The Discomfort Zone - Stepping Outside Your Box

The Discomfort Zone.

I love the title for this blog chain. (Kudos to Victor Travison for the brilliant suggestion!) To me, it expresses perfectly the “edge” that all writers need to balance on to be really good. Writing is just like rock climbing or water skiing – you can't be satisfied with good enough. A rock climber who learns to scale the glacial deposit in his backyard isn't going to stop there: he'll head for the Grand Canyon next. A water skiier who learns to cut wake isn't going to stop: she'll grab a single ski and try that.

Writers are the same way – or at least we should be. Just like in sports, we need to push ourselves. Try something new. Dare the unknown.

And, like all new things, it's a little scary. A little uncomfortable. It's the Discomfort Zone.

I've been labeled as an adrenaline junkie, a risk-taker, and a crazy fool (in no particular order). I like risk. I like the element of fear, the uncertainty of the unknown, the tingle of adrenaline. I'm also a sucker for punishment. The result? I spend a heck of a lot of time in the Discomfort Zone. :)

Every time I get comfortable with writing one genre, or one style, or one character, I want to try something new. My launch pad for writing usually is historical with a slight literary slant: from there I ricochet off in all directions. A few of my “projects” are:

The Hanging Tree – historical/mystery. I wrote this two years ago and at the time it felt quite brave to combine a Western and a mystery. Now it's the norm... but it was my first excursion into the DZ.

SS-5 – historical/suspense. This is probably my single biggest jaunt into the DZ. It was my first suspense novel. The suspense wasn't scary – but writing the main character was! (for Myers-Brigg people, he was an ESTP and I am an INFJ. Scary.)

A Forbidden Homeland – fantasy/thriller. Almost-completed-but-not-quite, this second 2009 NaNo novel jumped WAY out of my comfort zone! First stab at fantasy (a genre I swore I'd never write – haha) and also first stab at thriller. It's a dark novel about a people driven to extinction, sheltering in the shadows of the City of their oppressors. And it's about the man who leads the final fight for freedom... and the woman of the enemy who is his only ally and most dangerous enemy. Oh yeah. Who says the Discomfort Zone isn't fun!

Stranger's Eyes – thriller. This is my latest project, and it's comparable to wing-walking for me. Not only is the novel told only from a male POV, but it's straight thriller, and it's contemporary. Rob is an ordinary guy; nine-to-five job, football on the weekends. The center of his life is his young wife, Kay. But when his wife appears to lose her mind and assassins are breaking down their door, Rob has to become anything but ordinary in a race to stop a black op takeover. At stake is the future of the USA – and Kay's life.

And if that isn't enough to prove I've won my Crazy Writer badge, I'm also dibbling with an as-yet-untitled novel, which is sort of a parody/satire of fairy tales and classic detective stories. Leonie is a maid-of-waiting in the castle of King Percival. Ordinary serving girl by day, at night she writes the murder mystery novels that are sweeping the kingdom. No one knows who writes them – but when the Prince hosts a ball and one of the guests turns up floating in the goldfish pond, the author is top on the kingdom's wanted list – and Leonie's little hobby turns quite literally into a matter of life and death. This one is incredibly fun to write and it's so different from anything I've ever written – it's been a blast. Once again proof that being in Discomfort can be fun. :)

And now I've run out of time and space and therefore shall stop. Your turn – tell me about your excursions into the Discomfort Zone! When you're done, don't forget to check out the other posts in this blog chain!

Ruth Rockafield -- July 1

Nina Rose -- July 4

Edward Lewis -- July 6

Tracy Kraus -- July 7

Kat Connolly -- July 8

Linda Yezak -- July 9

Lynn Mosher -- July 10

Nona King -- July 11

Victor Travison -- July 14

Janalyn Voigt -- July 15

Adam Collings -- July 17

Liberty Speidel -- July 19

Chris Solaas -- July 27

Suzanne Hartmann -- July 30

Candid Camera: A Look At Character

I think I'm addicted to something. A new something, I mean. Blog chains, in general and particular. Here I am again taking part in an AW blog chain, topic of which endeavor is Character. Specifically, a scene which perfectly captures the essence of your character.

So last night I got out my “camera” and went hunting for a candid snapshot. After wandering through four of my novels and dozens of characters, I finally settled on this scene from my novel SS-5. (For those of you new to my blog, that's 2009's NaNo novel, my first excursion into YA, thriller, and suspense. Details here: http://frontnotes.blogspot.com/2009/10/historical-note-teenage-spies.html )

SS-5 is based on the true story of five Dutch teenagers (four boys and a girl) who, when the Nazis took control of Holland, banded together to fight back. At this point in the novel, the boys have been assimilated into the real Resistance, and are actively involved in deadly espionage. The pressure and danger is forcing them into a maturity far beyond their age, and it's ripping apart the bond of friendship between the five.

Affected most is Charlotte, who is forbidden to take part because of being female. She's forced to watch as her friends are destroyed, and is tormented by the ferocious need to take part in the fight.

The scene should be self-explanatory. Thoughts and critical feedback would be awesome!

*********

Charlotte sat in her room, drawing with fierce strokes the figure of a girl in armor. A girl, standing on a hill, armies sprawled shining out below her. She held up the flag of victory, and from open mouths all around poured grateful accolades. But there was no triumph in the girl's eyes, just a sort of sad relief.

Had Joan the Maid, centuries ago in France, wondered if she could ever succeed? In those days when everyone said she was mad, had she known that her cause was true?

Charlotte wondered.

After a moment, she laid down her pencil and pushed up the sleeve of her sweater to look at her watch. Piet had leaned toward her for a moment during dinner, whispered “Meeting tonight at six” and then turned back to his carrots before anyone saw.

Ten minutes yet before she had to leave.

She hadn't been in school today; she'd been with her mother, a few blocks away, with two terrified children huddled in a cellar. The Gestapo had broke down their door the night before, hauling their parents and older brother away. The two children, both girls younger than six, had huddled under their bed and managed to escape detection.

“Jews?” Charlotte had whispered when her mother told her.

“No.” Lorrie Skyyjer's face was grim. “The father had helped in printing and distributing pamphlets about the Allies' progress in the war. He was the man who brought paper, only that. But it was enough. Someone saw, reported, and the Gestapo came.”

A neighbor had found the children. They refused to come from under the bed, even when Charlotte and her mother came. They stared at something only they could see, and, arms twined together, refused to move.

Finally they had to be pulled out, separately since their combined weight was too much. Charlotte didn't think she'd ever forget their screams.

And here she sat, on her feather bed, in her warm house, wearing good, solid, even pretty clothes, with a full stomach. Safe. Secure. Out of danger.

While all around her people lost their lives fighting back.

Charlotte traced the figure on her easel with the tip of her pencil. “What would you do, Joan? What did you do? Did you sit safe at home and wait for your brothers, your best friends, to die?”

History proclaimed the answer.

And also the price Joan had paid.

Restless, Charlotte got up, pacing her room, until she gave it up, tugged a scarf over her flame of hair, and hurried out into the night.

The farmhouse was dark and empty, the barns likewise. The truck wasn't in the yard; obviously Farmer Smit, Jan and Piet hadn't arrived back yet.

She slipped through the darkness to the kiln, and swung the secret door open in the dark. From below she saw the flicker of candlelight. “Hello?”

“Charlotte?” She caught the owl-like glow of Jos's glasses. “Where is everyone?”

Charlotte's feet thudded down the earthen steps. “The boys aren't back yet. Isn't Hendrik here?”

“He's not coming.” Jos slid over on the rug, making a place for her to sit. “I've been here hours alone. I'm glad you're here.”

Startled, Charlotte glanced over to see if he was joking. But beneath his glasses, she saw not the twinkle of mischief, but the glitter of tears. “Jos. What's wrong?”

He shook his head. Nothing.

She turned him so he faced her. “Jos. What happened?”

His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “Remember the flour mill?” His voice was only a whisper. “The flour mill that was being converted into an munitions factory that we blew up?”

She nodded.

“I went along because I was small, and good with chemicals and fire. But Farmer Smit made sure no one knew my name or who I was. It was safer that way, he said. So I was the one who destroyed the mill, along with them.”

He paused. “The day before yesterday the Gestapo caught one of the people involved. They tortured him until he gave names. The Gestapo caught every one of the people involved in that mill, and twelve more who had nothing to do with it. Thirty people shot, Charlotte. Thirty people dead because of me.”

“Oh, Jos.” Emotion surged through Charlotte, smothering her. Jos took his glasses off, rubbing them with his handkerchief. In his eyes she saw the pain and the agony of guilt.

He's just twelve. Oh God, he's just a kid. He can't be responsible for thirty people's deaths.

Her hands twitched, ready to pull him into an embrace, hold him tight. Tell him it would be all right.

But somehow she knew it had gone beyond that.

“If only someone had known,” Jos said dully. “The first man they captured was in prison for a week before he talked. If someone had been inside, someone who could warn the others, then no one would have had to die.”

His words mingled in Charlotte's mind with words she'd heard Farmer Smit say.

“We need someone on the inside. Someone to find out what the Germans are going to do. But we can't ask anyone to risk their lives to that extent.”

And in that moment, Charlotte knew what she had to do.

Her mouth went dry, just thinking about it. Her father...everyone...

Bitter fear and sweet relief clashed in her mouth.

She knew what she had to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks so much for reading! If you liked this post, follow these links to read more excerpts by these talented bloggers!

LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com and direct link to her post

FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post

Collectonian: http://collectonian.livejournal.com and direct link to her post

Aimee Laine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog and direct link to her post

AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post

Lyra Jean: http://lyratorres.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post

Aheïla: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post

ArcticFox: http://picaresqueblog.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post

Fokker Aeroplanbau: http://rightfarright.blogspot.com/ and direct link to his post

Alpha Echo: http://writersramblings81.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post

xcomplex: http://arielemerald.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post

CScottMorris: http://cscottmorrisbooks.com/ and direct link to his post

egoodlett: http://wordlarceny.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post

Lilain: http://abigailschmidt.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post

defyalllogic: http://tavialewis.com/hyperbolicallyspeaking/ and direct link to her post

*RomanceWriter*: http://www.staceyespino.blogspot.com and direct link to her post

IrishAnnie: http://superpenpower.blogspot.com and direct link to her post

Anarchicq: http://anarchicq.com/

littlebear91: http://blog.littlebearz.com

hillaryjacques: www.hillaryjacques.blogspot.com

Proach: http://desstories.blogspot.com

Pages From Jan's Diary

After all the interest shown in the SS-5 story, I've decided to post excerpts from the actual diary for you all to read! As my writing journey continues, I may also post excerpts from the novel, showing how I'm taking the diary and converting it to fiction... but for the present we'll stick with fact! Here are the first four entries in Jan Jonkheer's diary.

(if you like this idea and want to read more of the diary, let me know and I'll post more!)


MAY 9, 1940

This is the first diary I have ever had, and I am itching to write in it. It also has a lock and key.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and it is a present from my parents. It was given to me yesterday, because my father, who is a doctor, was called up to join the army. But I am sure that this mobilization is another false alarm, because Hitler has promised faithfully not to invade Holland. So we expect Father to get leave to spend my birthday as we planned it.

I will be fourteen tomorrow, and my four best school friends, Piet and Charlotte, the "carrot twins," because of their fiery hair, and Hendrik and Jos are joining Father, Mother, and me.

We live in a suburb of Amsterdam. We will begin my birthday celebration with a tour of the city by boat, gliding through the famous grachten [canals]. (This is really to please Charlotte.)

Then we will go to the Rijksmuseum, which is our National Gallery. It makes me proud to be Dutch, when I look at the paintings by Frans Hals, San Steen, Vermeer, and especially Rembrandt. I am going to buy a copy of his best-known work The Night Watch. Then we will have lunch at Zandvoort aan Zee. I like this seaside resort.

In the evening we are going to Haarlem, because there is to be an organ recital in Saint Bavo Church. We are all fond of music, and I love this organ, which is one of the most famous in the world. It has three keyboards, sixty-eight registers, and five thousand pipes. It was built in 1738, and my father tells me that Mozart and Handel played on it. It must have been wonderful to hear the play­ing of such famous musicians, and I get a tremendous feeling of peace and happiness whenever I hear it.

The weatherman says it is going to be fine tomorrow. Hurray!

*********************************************


MAY 10

Mother awoke me this morning. One look at her serious face, and I knew that something was wrong. She kissed me and said, “Happy Birthday," but it was so unlike my mother, who is a very jolly person. This morning it was all very sad.

I could now hear distant thuds. "What is it?" I asked.

“The Germans have invaded Holland. I pray for Father, and for our poor country."

I washed and dressed very quickly, and went down into the street. Everybody had a different story to tell. Schiphol airport was on fire, but some soldiers - they were fifth columnists in Dutch uniforms, I learned later - said that we were doing well and beating back the Germans.

*********************************************


MAY 11 , 12, 13

These have been chaotic days. The Queen has moved from her house Hrris ten Bosch into the palace in the center of The Hague. No news about Father. We are worried.

*********************************************


MAY 14

We leave been told that the Queen has decided to leave the country. A British destroyer took her to England yesterday, where she has been joined by her Cabinet.

For a moment it looked like desertion, but, as my mother explained to me, the struggle against Hitler will be carried on from there, and from here, I hope.

Still no news about Father.