Outtakes 327

Grinch

By Cait Collins

I have a favorite Christmas story… How The Grinch Stole Christmas. You see, I have my Grinch moments. There are days when I want it all to go away. I don’t want to shop at the local stores, nor do I plan to spend hours on-line trying to find gifts for my nieces and nephews, especially now that most of them are teens and pre-teens. That’s why I go to the bank and get cash to give to the kids. At least I know money fits and it’s the right color.

Then there are the days when I get lucky and hit the mall and find everything I need. On those days I’m Cindy Lou Who. The characters in the Grinch’s story are so memorable. I can easily picture the Grinch, his dog, and Cindy Lou. I especially like the Grinch in his Santa suit. If I had to use one word to describe each one it would go something like this. Max-faithful. Cindy Lou Who-trusting. The Grinch-lost.

The Grinch may be lost and a little bitter at the beginning of the story, but he learns something about the season. Christmas is about hearts, and when he begins to understand that the season is about love, his own heart grows.

All the characters in our stories have the potential for growth and change. As the story develops, the reader should see the characters grow. The playboy becomes a faithful husband and father. A thief restores his ill-gotten gains to his victims. The ugly duckling becomes a swan. And the woman who has been physically and emotionally battered learns to love and be loved. It is the writer’s job to craft his characters so that their transformations are real and not shallow and cookie-cutter. After all, who would have thought the Grinch would go from zero to hero?

Outtakes 322

Seasons

By Cait Collins

I love the changing seasons. Spring gives the promise of birth and renewal. Blossoming flowers and budding trees give us hope for a brighter, warmer time. Summer’s brightness and warmth bring families and friends together to celebrate by the lake or the pool. Picnics and bike rides are popular activities. Crops planted in the spring grow to maturity.

Fall is my favorite season. The turning leaves paint the world with unspeakable beauty. The golden colors of the aspen and birch trees against white trunks reaching up to a cold blue sky take my breath away. Red, gold, and brown maple leaves fall gently to the ground. Every turn of the road reveals more beauty. The air is cooler and crisp fall scents of the harvest perfume the air.

Winter snows blanket the ground and we slip and slide on icy streets and sidewalks. Frigid air chases us indoors and we gather around the fire popping popcorn and telling stories while the world sleeps preparing for rebirth in the spring.

Writing a book or story follows the pattern of the seasons. Spring is the spark or beginning of the work. The author opens his mind to possibilities. He embraces this new-born idea and nurtures it.

As spring becomes summer, the work grows under the watchful eye of the creator. Characters mature and actions lead to reactions that are both good and bad. The climax is on the cooling horizon.

The work is completed and sold. The author settles in anticipating the harvest of sales. And then the resting time comes. It is a time to restore the mind and allow the body to recharge and while the seed of a new idea takes hold. A new flower blooms.

                   Outtakes 325 

                       Backlist

                     By Cait Collins 

​In past years, I’ve been afraid to read my favorite authors’ backlists. I was concerned that I would be disappointed. Recently I bought a Nora Robert’s release that I had been told was a new novel. Instead First Snow was a release of her books A Will and a Way (1986) and Local Hero (1987). While the stories are different from her more recent works, they are great reads. These older titles made me realize that an author must to grow with every release.

​I was first introduced to Nora Roberts as a romance writer, then later as a writer of romantic suspense. Later I discovered her witches, demons and ghosts. I’m still hooked. I have a feeling that Ms. Roberts grabbed at every opportunity. And that’s the point. We don’t grow unless we try.

​I prefer writing novels to writing short stories. But what’s wrong with writing a short story? It may be frustrating at times, yet it is worth the effort. Sadly we let the fear and frustration prevent us from achieving a new phase in our careers. And even though the first attempt might not be perfect, the next book or short story will be better. We will improve with each completed work. That’s the whole point of experimenting and rewriting. It makes our work better and more marketable. It gives us confidence in our talent and career path. If we only try we might one day have our own backlist.

Outtakes 324

Perfect Pet

By Cait Collins

I remember having pets as I was growing up, but I never really bonded with any of them. I didn’t take the time to go out and throw a ball with them and I didn’t chase them around the yard. You see I wasn’t much of an outdoor person and Mom didn’t allow pets in the house. So my relationship with our dogs was relegated to feeding and watering them. I’d also do the occasional hug. But I did not develop a friendship with one of the animals. When we lost them either by a transfer to another state or by death, I’d shed a tear, but I never really missed one of them

The heroine in my current story was critically injured in an earthquake. She was the lone survivor when a hut used for a schoolhouse collapses and traps her beneath the rubble. Her father finds a pure-bred German Sheppard to be her service dog. Muttley becomes more than her protector and soother of nerves and fears, he becomes her friend and confidant. She pours out her heart to him. She’s able to talk to him when humans seem to annoy and frustrate her. I envy that relationship. The trick for me will be developing the relationship between Muttley and Moira. Since I’ve not bonded with an animal, I’m going to have to figure out how to allow the relationship between woman and dog to gown until even the idea of a separation is unbearable.

One idea would be to get a dog. But I’m seldom home and that would be unfair to the dog. Besides, I would soon resent being awakened in the middle of the night to let my new pet go potty. I guess that makes me selfish, so I’ll really have to stretch to get the scenes right. I hope I’m up to the challenge.

Outtakes 323

Sound of Silence

By Cait Collins

Sometimes when I’m working on a scene I find myself asking “what does the character hear?” In The city it could be the sounds of traffic; horns honking, brakes squealing, the crunch of fenders meeting each other. Or it could be noise from a school playground or a football stadium. A farm carries the noises of the animals. But sometimes the most deafening sound is silence.

Moria, the heroine in my current story, desperately needs to silence the death rattles and moans from the victims of an 8.2 earthquake. Moria was trapped beneath the rubble of a small school building in a remote village in Afghanistan. She is the sole survivor. In the pitch black of her prison, silence reigns. And in the absence of sound, she is afraid no one is available to rescue her.

On her trip across Route 66 she stops at a section of the old road near Lexington, Illinois. As Moria and her service dog, Muttley, walk the trail, she hears not the agony of the other victims’ she hears the bird song, a gentle breeze whistling through the trees, and the whisper of the grass in the wind. Slowly, the healing noise replaces the agonizing sounds of the dying. The daylight fades and in the early shades of night she hears the silence. Not the terrifying nothing but the calm that follows the storm. And in the silence she reaches for the future. It is in the silence she hears her own voice and her thoughts. And in hearing she begins to mourn.

Outtakes 322

Seasons

By Cait Collins

I love the changing seasons. Spring gives the promise of birth and renewal. Blossoming flowers and budding trees give us hope for a brighter, warmer time. Summer’s brightness and warmth bring families and friends together to celebrate by the lake or the pool. Picnics and bike rides are popular activities. Crops planted in the spring grow to maturity.

Fall is my favorite season. The turning leaves paint the world with unspeakable beauty. The golden colors of the aspen and birch trees against white trunks reaching up to a cold blue sky take my breath away. Red, gold, and brown maple leaves fall gently to the ground. Every turn of the road reveals more beauty. The air is cooler and crisp fall scents of the harvest perfume the air.

Winter snows blanket the ground and we slip and slide on icy streets and sidewalks. Frigid air chases us indoors and we gather around the fire popping popcorn and telling stories while the world sleeps preparing for rebirth in the spring.

Writing a book or story follows the pattern of the seasons. Spring is the spark or beginning of the work. The author opens his mind to possibilities. He embraces this new-born idea and nurtures it.

As spring becomes summer, the work grows under the watchful eye of the creator. Characters mature and actions lead to reactions that are both good and bad. The climax is on the cooling horizon.

The work is completed and sold. The author settles in anticipating the harvest of sales. And then the resting time comes. It is a time to restore the mind and allow the body to recharge and while the seed of a new idea takes hold. A new flower blooms.

Outtakes 321

Frightening

By Cait Collins

Blood and gore. Slasher movies. Halloween One to whatever. Some find these movies frightening. But think back to the shower scene in PSYCHO. A black and white movie instead of Technicolor. The music. A knife stabbing down. The heroine cringing in the shower. The scene was so artfully filmed the mind took over and the viewer imagined he saw the knife strike a woman’s body.

The mind is far more powerful than blatant scenes. Alfred Hitchcock had the creative talent to scare the life out of me without the blood and gore. To this day, the movie THE BIRDS still terrifies me. The swarming birds hid the damage to the humans. The teacher died from being pecked to death, but we never saw the sightless eyes and ripped face.

The point is a well-crafted paragraph that builds a villain has more impact than the blow-by-blow vision of a killer’s actions. Give me a masterful book or a brilliant movie and I can imagine so much more than what I read or see.

Outtakes 320

Bump in the Night

By Cait Collins

It’s that time of the year when the ghosts and goblins are center stage. Witches, zombies, vampires, boogey men roam the streets. Television stations air scary movies and horror books are front and center in the books stores. I’m not a fan of the horror stuff. I don’t like being scared. And I don’t enjoy books and movies that keep me awake.

While I can take vampires and mummies, I have a real problem with living, breathing bad guys. I will never understand why I bought a copy of Helter Skelter by Curt Gentry and Vincent Bugliosi. Bugliosi was the prosecutor for the Manson trial and he knew the story of Manson’s family and crimes. That book terrified me. I couldn’t read it but I didn’t want to put it down. That doesn’t make much sense, but I’d read it until I was afraid to close my eyes. But the more Manson’s insanity was revealed, the more frightened I became. I finally shoved the book under the bed and never finished it.

This real killer was scarier than Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, and a zombie apocalypse could ever be simply because he is real. True monsters are more horrifying than fictional characters just because they are real and breathing. They can be the stranger you pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store. Maybe the monster could be a teacher, a doctor, or a cop. This kind of knowledge is enough to make me keep a baseball bat under my couch. I don’t like guns but I have no problems bashing skulls, breaking knees, or wrists. I just pray I never have to face my fear. I may talk big, but I don’t really know if I could take him or her out. It’s something I really don’t want to know.