Cathryn Louis, Author of Contemporary Fiction

I can’t write. I finally have to admit that I’ve hit a barrier. Not writer’s block, more like a bottomless depth of feeling; too many sadnesses and not enough words for expressing them. Memorial Day memories, the destruction of the Gulf Coast shoreline, an unexpected passing, betrayals. I find myself lost in a bayou of emotions, each path turning back in on itself rather than leading me out. But it is a bayou and I am a Louisiana girl. Even though there are false paths and those that constantly shift, I should be able to find my way out. Even when it gets messy. Real Louisiana bayous may become just memories of existence thanks to the Botanicus Petrificus (a nod here to JKR – petrificus totalus) that threatens on the horizon. Now I wonder – was it a caveman drilling accident that caused the tar pits?

Since the paths lead me everywhere but out, I may as well examine this emotional environment. How did I get here? I was trying to write a tragedy. I opened my heart up to feeling the pain and grief as I wrote. Unexpectedly, I became very attuned to the tragedies around me – past, present and future. Yes – future. Just think about it – as bad as the Gulf situation is now, the future looks absolutely devastating. Nature took thousands – maybe millions of years to create the intricate tapestries of the Louisiana wetlands. One selfish bureaucrat in a self-serving corporation made a decision that could end it all. The number of prior selfish, self-serving decisions that allowed him to be in that position only took place within the last decade or two (a nod here to Barbara Boxer, Rachel Maddow). It’s unconscionable. It’s criminal. A fitting punishment? Confiscate their profit every year until the Gulf is at least as it was before the mess they created. Even doing that is not nearly as bad as the punishment they have inflicted on the Gulf and its residents. My imagination is in overdrive trying to think up a punishment as bad as that. Maybe top management should be forced to leave their jobs and try to eke out a living in the environment that they have ruined. Even that won’t be as bad as it should be. Louisiana folks are generous and loving; many can’t stand to see anyone suffer. They will probably pitch in and help them. don’t you know?

Following that path has led me back here, where I started. How about another? Memorial Day. Brings back bittersweet memories of my Dad. He did not die in combat, but he did serve honorably and proudly. My memories of him are as a truly absent-minded professor. He spent decades preparing students for their professions. To my six year old mind, the ‘CBI Theater’ meant the movies. When I finally got the courage to ask my Dad why he spent the war at the movies, I got a history lesson on that part of WWII – after he’d finished laughing. It took a while – for him to stop laughing, not the lesson. My dad was my rock in a stormy sea. The Rock of Gibraltar. I took all kinds of chances – good ones, stupid ones, ones that I cringe to think about. Not once did I think of falling or failing – all because I had my rock. Now a tsunami is coming in – and I’m rockless. Not even a buoy. Looks like I’d better swim for it – and fast. Or – maybe I should be my own rock. There’s an idea. What if I’m not ready? Hell – I’d better be. It’s now or never.

Now I’m on one last path, where I must face the unexpected passing of a beloved aunt. The story isn’t mine to tell, but there’s grief that is mine to feel – deeply.

Now I’m wandering through a mire of minor betrayals – people gone missing; being damned by faint praise. I know that I shouldn’t give either of these things the honor of being the last straw. At least having family and friends near helps to lighten the disappointment.

Two days later:
In spite of all, I tried to master the bayou. To learn it’s paths and shifts so that I could make my way out. It took me a while to figure out that the way out is up – gotta make myself a rock big enough to be seen from anywhere down here among the moss covered willows. Then I climbed the rock, high into the clouds. Finally!  The sun.

Filed under: Essays by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « bayou - Louisiana - pain - sadness - tragedy »
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It’s a tragedy. Seriously. I have to write one. For a character that I’ve grown to love. The character has to die. I created someone, gave him an identity, a personality – and now I have to kill him off. I tweeted about it a while ago, and I’m still dragging my feet, looking for any way to save him. He could have been a hero, but he has to die – in a brutal and shocking way. Otherwise, there isn’t a big enough catalyst for the rest of the book.

#!#@!!%#@!

I’ve never written a tragedy. Quite honestly, with only one novel done, there’s a lot I haven’t written. ROFCOL… Tragedies make me cry. Good thing I’m not using paper and ink – I’m having a hard enough time keeping the keyboard dry.

Everybody knows that a tragedy affects every character and changes the course of events. After it happens, no one goes on their merry way. So for the tragedy to be a believable read, it has to have been so written. Therein lies my problem. I don’t like to dwell on sadness and grief so I want to jot it down and keep going. But I can’t. I have to honor the character and readers by exploring every consequence of the character’s death.

Sigh… Better make a Kleenex run.

Filed under: OnWriting by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « storycraft - tragedy - wip »
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Perfecting the craft. Before I wrote Sunrise on the Pier, I didn’t understand what that meant. Now I get that becoming a writer is like starting off on a journey that has no direction and no end. The journey will go wherever and as far as each writer is willing to take it. Scary! …but I’m lovin’ it. 🙂 The starting point isn’t important. How lessons are learned isn’t important. It’s only important that the lessons provide guidance in perfecting the craft. I now see that improvement in the craft of writing is how I get from one point along the road to the next. Woo hoo – happy dance!

So what is the craft of writing? Every writer wants to put something down on paper that inspires readers to choose their work. ‘The craft’ is how we do that. But what exactly is ‘the craft’? Unfortunately (and I know you saw this coming) there is no wrong way or right way to write. Everyone’s style is different – so ‘the craft’ is different for everyone. That’s how I see it anyway. All that matters is that the finished work is compelling and gives readers a fulfilling experience. It seems to me that every writer’s craft is a work in progress. ‘The craft’ improves as we apply the lessons we learn.

What’s ‘the craft’ in my case? Not sure – there’s only one novel to go by. But that said – I’m making a conscious effort to review everything I did the last time, and see how I can improve on it this time. For example, in Sunrise on the Pier, I wanted everything to be perfect – all at once! So each time I wrote a scene, I rewrote and rewrote until I was sure (more or less) it was the best I could do. 🙂 Then on to the next. Unfortunately for me. that’s not how the stories unfold in my brain. Sometimes I got disjointed ideas – wouldn’t it be great if Gabrielle rode back to the city with Jarin or – gee let’s add Chase as a character instead of just being referred to in conversation. #@*!%%! So then I had to go back and layer those ideas in across several scenes – or in the case of Chase – the whole story! OMG WTF!!! Rewriting and rewriting again. I may have been able to make the story more compelling if I hadn’t had to rewrite so much. Lesson well learned. 🙂

Also last time, I blocked out every scene I thought I would write – and used only about a quarter of them! That’s because as I wrote, the story went it’s own way – and I decided not to force the scenes that didn’t belong. This time, I only blocked out the scenes that give me rough guidance. There’s a lot of missing story between the them. That’s ok for me – because I know now that my stories change in my head and the scenes shift as I write. This time, I’m a bit more aware of how I think. Also this time, my entire first draft is going to be free form. Narrative, dialogue, whatever works to get the story on paper. Now when a new idea comes up, I add a sentence or a conversation. At worst, I’m only rewriting sentences or conversations. This isn’t a first draft I can show to anybody, but it helps me complete the story. I’m sure more ideas will come up as I write. I’m hoping that this time, since I’ll have a fully formed first draft the ideas will mostly feed forward as I rewrite. Last time, they all fed backward. Let’s see what happens and what I learn this time. In any case, I’ll be another novel further along the journey…and then there will be the next!

What do you think – what is ‘the craft’ to you?

Filed under: OnWriting by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « rewriting - storycraft »
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Marina Cove, the largest of the coves, has – as we know – the marina used by the residents of all the coves. Narrow lanes snake through the forested slope above the cove, where some of the first settlers built their homes. These homes – or “cottages” as they are now called, have become the summer homes of their descendents. The first settlers also built retaining walls to shore up the soil on which the town was built, as well as the edges of the cove. Later before the governing fathers prohibited the practice, homes were built on the arms of the cove. It was one of these that Gabrielle stood in front of as she looked out toward Skye Pointe.

The features of Marina Cove that are a part of the story in the next novel (I’ll just call it SP2) are its northern and southern tombolos. The retaining walls on the north arm of the cove unfortunately have the side effect of starving the northern tombolo. Fifteen years before the events in Sunrise on the Pier and most of the events in SP2, the tombolo finally crumbled and all that is left is a tiny island that gets smaller every year and will eventually disappear. The southern tombolo is fed by the erosion of the land mass south of the cove and is stable.

The town itself is built along three parallel streets. The buildings on those streets are situated one above the other such that from the piers, it appears that there is only one street with multi-story buildings. The rays of the sunrise hit the east facing windows of the buildings, and are then reflected to the west facing windows of the buildings on the next lower street. The rays are then reflected and refracted back and forth among the windows, creating the phenomenon that the hero electrified in his painting, Sunrise on the Pier.

Filed under: OnWriting, SkyePointe by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « backstory - worldbuilding »
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In Chapter ‘In Or Out?’ of Sunrise On The Pier, Gabrielle stands on the post and rail fence and sees only four coves. How can that be when there are five coves at Skye Pointe?

From her perspective, she sees past Marina Cove to Coral Cove, Jasmine Cove, De La Croix Island and Keeper’s Cove. In the distance, De La Croix Island appears to be the southern tip of Keeper’s Cove. Instead, it is actually a barrier island that blocks Hidden Cove from view – unless the perspective is due east.

Filed under: OnWriting, SkyePointe by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « backstory - worldbuilding »
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There are no words.

Filed under: ILoveLA by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « Louisiana »
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I’m starting to work on a new novel. First for me is storyboarding. Last time, it helped me learn who the characters are and understand their motivations. Also last time, the final story was nothing like the set of scenes I started with. For me, the storyboard seems to be the seed that germinates, growing who knows what as the final story. For this new novel, I find I need more backstory to get the scenes to flow. Its setting also involves ‘aspects’ of Skye Pointe. ‘Aspects’ is in quotes because I don’t yet know what that means. So, backstory first!

What do I know about Skye Point? First, it’s a fictitious coastal community. For the stories I write, it is situated somewhere in the Mid Atlantic United States. Geographically, it occupies the first two of a series of densely forested, gently sloped plateaus that extend from the coast all the way to the foothills of the northern Appalachian Mountains. I don’t know that such an area really exists. But it doesn’t have to – this is fiction! :). Skye Pointe’s most prominent feature is the crescent-shaped promontory north of the five coves, home to three lighthouses.

Why five coves? I don’t know. Maybe to give me a large enough area to keep writing novels about. Why three lighthouses? No clue, except that’s the way I see it in my head. The largest of the lighthouses, Skye Light, is the only one visible from the cove side of the promontory. It is the largest lighthouse and sits at the highest elevation of the promontory. The other two lighthouses, Sea Light and Harbor Light, are at progressively lower elevations as they guide incoming ships away from the coves and into the Port Leighton harbor.

Why ‘Light’ and not ‘Lighthouse’? I don’t know that either. Maybe it will become clear later on. I’m not even sure that the names – except for Skye Light – will stay the same. I like Harbor Light, but I think Sea Light is kind of weak. We’ll see what happens to it. How about Guiding Light? Oh right – that used to be a soap opera. 🙂

Filed under: OnWriting, SkyePointe by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « backstory - skye pointe - worldbuilding »
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Some of the characters from my first book are rattling around in my brain clamoring for novels of their own. Unbidden, thoughts for a fantasy trilogy series have popped into my head and are now competing for my attention. (Freudian slip? I mis-spelled ‘popped’ as ‘pooped’). If that’s not enough – there are random scenes floating around. Here’s one of them.
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Photo Credit: Augusto Cabral, Dreamstime.com

A batter stands at the plate. He’s facing a pitcher that he always gets the best of. He has studied the pitcher’s every move and consistently beats him in their face-offs. He knows the speed of his fast ball; the speed and trajectory of his curve ball. He isn’t fooled by his changeups. The batter lowers himself into his stance, brandishes his bat, and gets ready to kick the pitcher’s ass yet again.

The pitcher is on the mound, facing the batter that always gets the best of him. No matter what he throws, the batter has his number and gets to base or worse – drives a homerun. He had studied the batter and still had not solved the mystery of his success. Today though, he has a surprise. He’s been working on a knuckle ball slider. Difficult to master; hard to control. Outside his comfort zone. Something new and unexpected. He eyes the batter and sees that he is ready – grinning menacingly, comfortably. He is clearly expecting the at-bat to go the way they always have.

The pitcher throws his fastball. His first pitch is always fastest and the batter invariably fouls it off. As he did this time. Now – the slider or the curve? He’s never pitched the batter two fast balls in a row, hesitant because of his speed statistics and that a curve or changeup was not his best third pitch. Today, he has another option. He is edgy, but makes the hard decision. Knowing it would make or break him, he throws another fastball. The batter, looking slightly surprised, swings hard – and fouls it off. The pitcher relaxes. That was close.

The batter lowers himself back into his stance, sure that the pitcher is his. Two fast balls in a row. His next fast ball will most certainly be slower. If he throws a curve or a changeup, he won’t have the control to get it over the plate. The batter’s specialty is low ball hitting. He smiles in anticipation of an easy victory, watching the pitcher wind up and throw. Ah – a curve.

The batter watches the trajectory of the ball and swings at exactly the right moment in it’s flight – except that the ball drops a good two inches below his bat and sails across the plate. The umpire yells him out. What the hell was that? The old dog got himself a new pitch. He glares at the pitcher, a grudging new respect in his eyes. Son of a bitch.

The pitcher trots off the mound after the out – the last of the inning; the last of the game. I got him. Today. For the first time. His team rushes him from the bullpen. He whoops and runs toward them, throwing his cap in the air. Tomorrow’s a different story, but he’s in this story for now.

Filed under: Flashes by Cathryn Louis
Tags: « baseball - flash - stories »
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I’m using that last post as the first line of a novel I’m writing. The character finds herself in a situation where she has to laugh to keep from crying. I’m sure many of us have been there time and again. Unfortunately for her, it’s a recurring situation. She’ll handle it though. But how? 🙂 🙂

Filed under: Uncategorized by Cathryn Louis
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From my overworked brain –

Life is hilarious, if you have a sense of humor.
Otherwise, it’s damn depressing.

Filed under: Uncategorized by Cathryn Louis
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