The Beginning of a Tale

Titles pop into my head. Then I carry them around in a portable compartment of my mind like a favorite rock found on the beach or in front of me on my path and placed in a pocket of my shirt or pants.

I worry them, and they worry me. I don’t mean I give them a negative feeling or interpretation. The titles and the stones are like question marks at the end of perfectly good sentences. These sentences stand on their own, yet something is coming next, and I don’t know what.

Sometimes the stone just feels good in my hand, similar to how the title “Daffodils in December” rings like a soft bell in my brain. The ‘D’ sounds are grounding; the imagery of the words describe a bright feeling in the dim days of winter. Where the stone promises a memory of the place it was found (a windswept day on the California Coast), this title gives me hope, almost a yearning, of something better to come. I play with it, roll it around in my head and look at it from all angles. While my thumb runs across the one ragged ridge of the rock, my mind keeps catching on the possibility of a story, probably more than one.

“But what is the story?” I ask myself. “Who needs to have daffodils bloom in their life? Why would it be important? What sign other than the visual of bright yellow on a grey day does someone need to see?”

Gradually a female character forms. In my bed under a pine ceiling, I stare at two knot holes. Another piece of the story falls into my mind. The holes remind me of the Cheshire Cat and its off-again-on-again smile. My main character’s turmoil develops substance, and two male characters take their places on either side of her and my queen-sized bed. They represent her dilemma.

It’s still a work in progress but coming along nicely, I think. The title did not get lost, although I have returned the stone to the general area where it was found. The story will eventually be published through my website, www.standinginbalance.com as a PDF download.

Working diligently on my novel series is so engrossing that tripping over a title makes me take a breath from the mind-challenges of carrying so many threads of story lines presented in The Sacred Bundle Series. I don’t mind following the novel characters anywhere they wish to go; that is, until they get into a spot they can’t possibly wiggle out of. At this time, I backtrack to see what signpost they missed. With a smaller project to distract me, I can lay my novel down, refresh my mind with an unconnected challenge, then return to The Sacred Bundle Series with a renewed slant on the lives and problems of Selena, Flyn, and Amach, and now Dreag.

Having a title to ponder gives me a beginning to wrap my imagination around. Plus I have a shorter path to its ending. There was a time when my short stories happened the other way: story first, title last. These  required full-on attention because the plot grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go until it was all written. Luckily they had to sit for a time for mellowing and so I could un-attach from them. Which left me to write more on The Series and return later for an editing process.

“Daffodils in December” has been a puzzle, and it is just about solved. I can tell because another title has jiggled my brain. “Blackberry Dreams” is dancing off stage, and, this time, a shell has found its way into my pocket and is nagging me into a story.