Silver James

This is Adidas. Around these parts, we call her Deeders. Stupid Cat. Damn Cat. And Queen. Okay. That last one is what she insists the boys call her. ALL the boys–two and four-legged.

She has hidey-holes all over the house and is quite adept at disappearing when I’m looking for her–like when one of the boys gets the garage door open and it’s some time before I realize it. She’s a cat. She doesn’t come when she’s called. So I go looking because heaven forbid the critter be left in a chilly garage for any length of time.

Adidas never comes when she’s called. The day I found her, I’d heard her mewling for three days already. When I’d step out on the front porch to get the mail, I could hear these pitiful cries. I’d call, the cries would stop. I’d wait and look but nothing. Until the next time I’d come out to get mail. I finally put on long sleeves and gloves to go poking in the holly hedge where the noises seemed to emanate from. I finally located her cute little kitten self in the base of the bushy evergreen tree at the corner of the house. I got her out and she’s been here ever since.

So…yesterday, I decided to photograph the silver and stone heart Lawyer Guy bought me for my birthday. I didn’t even get the camera focused before Deeders arrived and took over the photo shoot. And the necklace. Yes, she’s wearing it. *rolls eyes*

What does this have to do with writing? A lot, actually. Plots and characters and readers are like cats. They have places to hide you can’t find, they never come when they’re called, and you have to entice them out with something shiny.

I’ve dealt with my share of sulky characters. When they’ve taunted me enough, they usually settle down and cooperate. Plots? Plots I have to chase down, running through the house, calling it’s name, and hoping it didn’t slip into the cold garage, to curl up shivering until I can find it and turn up the heat. Readers? I’m not sure I–or any other author–will ever figure out readers. That means I simply need to write a story I want to read, put it out like cream on the back step, and hope readers come by for a taste and then decide to stick around for the whole meal.

I’m not doing that last part right yet. It comes down to “I can write” or “I can sort of market while I write” or “I can market.” If any of you have suggestions, I’m all ears! (Okay, eyes since this in text. 😉 ) This will be an on-going topic around here as I wander through the house trying to find all of Deeders’ hiding places.

PS – You can click on the photo and get a bigger version.