Saturday, May 19, 2012

WHERE IS THE STORY?

I'm rewriting an old unfinished novel called THE PAINTED SUN.

What I usually do, when I start a novel, is begin with the voice of a narrator in my head, or an image, or a character, without knowing where I am going. It's a matter of exploration, following the characters, letting the voice lead the way. But sometimes, too often, no story emerges.

With "The Painted Sun," I started with a man in real life, a guy who lived across the way in back, on the next street. I could see him from my deck, over the tops of two garages. He looked about 60, and was lean and muscular, unusually fit for a man his age. No fat on him.

Gray hair, a thick mat of curly hair on his chest. He would come out onto his second-floor balcony and look around, shirt off, like a man who was under house arrest, or waiting for something, or someone. He wore well-cut gray slacks. Not a bum.

He never seemed to go anywhere, and I never saw anyone come to visit him. So of course my fantasy was that he was a retired hit-man waiting for his next job.

I didn't want to meet him, didn't want to know anything about his real life. It would spoil my fantasy.

So anyway, as novels do, this character evolved into an old horse trainer from Kansas, who was looking for his daughter who had run away ten years ago, when she was 16.

I followed the character and I guess you could say he led me astray. He comes to L.A. and meets a young woman who moves in next door. Her boyfriend beats her up and my guy rescues her and leaves the boyfriend with a broken arm.

What did this have to do with the daughter? Well, nothing. An interesting beginning, but leading nowhere. There was no story. He finds out the daughter went to Mexico with a rich racehorse owner who lives on a big ranch. Here I used a true story, told me by a friend, about an American girl who lives a racy and risky life on a big rancho.

But this novel of mine wasn't working. I wrote about 200 pages and found myself down a dead-end street with no action in sight. No consequences. No causal chain. No theme. What was this novel about? Who the hell knew?

I still like the main characters, so I'm trying to stir up a new pot of stew and see if I can create a situation or story problem or dilemma that will come alive again and lead me somewhere interesting.

I have some ideas, and I have the feeling these characters are out there somewhere, and they are breathing, and waiting, chomping at the bit, waiting for the story to come along and sweep them away. Waiting for their next job.

Kind of like that old man on the balcony.

Wish me luck.

-- Roger

Copyright © 2012, Roger R. Angle

2 comments:

Joy said...

Have you ever tried writing women?

Roger R. Angle said...

Yes. One of the three main characters of my literary thriller, "The Disappearance of Maggie Collins," was a woman. I was having trouble at first, and then someone in my writing group suggested just writing her as a person, and that worked. Why?