Authors all around me at conferences, chapter meetings, and online forums talk about their clear-cut plotting process. After writing romance novels for eight years and despite my publishing credits, I still don’t have my organizational ducks in a row. I’m one of those people who thrive in chaos. The state of my office and whatever flat surface in other parts of the house I choose to randomly commandeer makes my tidy husband cringe. Even spiders flee.
I start out with a notebook. An innocent, unsuspecting, college-rule spiral. Despite the thirteen years I spent under teachers’ admonitions to color in between the lines and write eligibly between them, my muse overcomes me. You see, if it wasn’t for her, I might have a chance at mild organizational skills. She is the real culprit, and when she takes over and the ideas start coloring the notebook page in blue or black ink, she goes bonkers! I may start out writing on the top line in readable script, but by the end of the brainstorm session, I flip back through the pages and find margins filled, tiny cursive text circling the words packed into the center of the page. Some of it is readable, but the part in shorthand looks like an ancient form of Arabic no Robert Langdon for hire however brilliant, appealing, or well-versed would have any chance of deciphering.
