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**Adair V’s SCRIM is the seventh in a never-ending series called
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION where the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC)
focuses on one specific excerpt from a fiction genre and how that fiction
writer wrote that specific excerpt. All INSIDE
THE EMOTION OF FICTION links are at the end of this piece.
Current working title:
Scrim As the story evolved, each of the siblings emerged with their own voices,
and it seemed wrong that the sisters were mediated by this secondary
“appellation”. As I was writing, the California coastal fog (Below Right. Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only) became a character
in its own right.
And since photography plays a big role in the story, there
are a lot of images that recede in the distance or appear in the dark room. In
the same way, the real meaning of much of the action is effaced, obscured,
veiled and then suddenly revealed. I like the idea of a title that captures the
tension between opacity and transparency.
It’s extremely likely
I will expand the title. It will come to me at some point and then seem like it
couldn’t be anything else.
Fiction genre? Ex science fiction, short story, fantasy,
novella, romance, drama, crime, plays, flash fiction, historical, comedy,
etc? And how many pages long? Literary fiction. Around 280 pages.
Has this been published? And it is
totally fine if the answer is no. If
yes, what publisher and what publication date? Publisher? This is still a work in progress.
What is the date you began writing this
piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of
fiction? In June 2018, I was coming to the end of a
manuscript I’d spent more than five years writing. It always makes me nervous
to be ‘without a project’. My mind began to drift towards this fragment of an
idea I have long nurtured: to tell a story of what it was like growing up in
southern California in the 1970s, where money and drugs were too accessible and
where young girls were unprepared for what was expected of their bodies. I spent three weeks creating the characters,
outlining the story, capturing the voices. Before I knew it, I had written
30,000 words. (Above Right: Vintage photo of young teenager in Venice Beach, California during the 1970s. Fair Use) 
I think writing a
novel is like creating a painting. First, you put down a few lines just to
create the overall shape. Next, you determine the features that are going to be
emphasized, decide on the tone, and begin to shade. After a lot of this, it’s
time to add the color and poetic brushstrokes. (Left: Lesser Ury's painting Woman Writing 1898. Public Domain)
For example, I have a
plot that is completely outlined. When a character enters the room, I know
exactly where everything is, where she goes, where she drops her school books,
how she needs to skirt the dining room table to get to the kitchen. But this is
just for me as the writer and doesn’t really matter to the reader. It is part
of the scaffolding of the story. So, once I have all of this established, I go
back and essentially write over what’s there. I take out what I call “the stage
directions” and replace it with more descriptive language, more psychological
motivation, more interiority.
Where did you do most of your writing for
this fiction work? And please describe
in detail. And can you please include a
photo? I have a big, wonderful, overstuffed sofa and a
mosaic coffee table I made myself. It’s large and sturdy, with plenty of room
for my tea pot, candle, notebooks, and art supplies (and cat!). Most of the
time, I sit back on the sofa with my computer on my lap, my legs stretched out
on the table, and I tap away. (Below: Copyright permission granted by Adair V for this CRC Blog Post Only)
If I get stuck, I
sketch or paint a watercolor or create a collage. Of course, I often scour the
Internet for interesting photos, which is a distraction I try to make
inspiring. Since I’m writing about the place I grew up in, I look on Google
Earth to reacquaint myself with the town or to discover how things have
changed. (Right: Collage attributed to and copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only)
I currently live in
downtown Portland, a lively city where it’s a hassle to own a car (so I don’t).
This means I do a lot of walking every day. I find this is useful ‘imagination
time’ and consider it to be part of my writing practice. (Below: City of Portland, and the place where Adair walks, a few miles from her home. Copyright attribution and permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only)
What were your writing habits while
writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write
in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? I follow the Hemingway (Left: Public Domain) rule: I write around 1000 words every day and stop
writing while I still have something to say. That way, when I start the next
day, I have a place to begin, and often the story has been writing itself in
the deep recesses of my brain while I run errands, make dinner, or sleep. I
find a word count quota to be a good way to keep momentum. A thousand words
isn’t a lot. If you do just that much every day, then you can have the first
draft of a novel in two or three months.
I utilize an array of
methods and stick with whatever’s working. It it’s writing in a notebook,
that’s what I do. If it’s writing on my computer with news on in the
background, I do that. When something stops working, I switch it up. There are
a few cafes I go to when I find being at home too distracting. This particular
book has been pretty easy, since I’ve been thinking about it for so long. I
spent three weeks ferociously writing an outline. Now I’m taking my second
pass, writing with more deliberation and creating more interiority for each of
the main voices. (Above Right: Adair's writing space. Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only)
I’m inspired by art,
and when I begin a project I often create a notebook filled with images that
inspire me. Because this book is set in a real time and place, I’ve done a lot
of research and printed out photos of the way Dana Point looked in the 1970s. I
have a general idea of how I want my characters to look. When I come across
pictures that resemble my ideas for each of them, I cut them out from magazines
or print them if I’ve found them online. (Below: Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only)
For example, I had
this idea that I wanted Veda to have classically beautiful features even though
she is a naive 15-year old beach girl. I saw a painting by William
Bouguereau (Below Left), a 19th Century
French painter, of a beautiful young woman, (Bouguereau's Aphrodite) and I thought it was exactly how I
wanted Veda to look. If I ever get stuck, I look at the pictures I’ve collected
and usually the words begin to flow.
Because two of my
characters are photographers, and photography is the way Veda is seduced, I
have researched the subject quite a bit. Two of my favorite photographers have
helped shape how I imagine the different aesthetics of Marcus and Veda.
Bill Henson’s dark
style (Above: Fair Use) is how I imagine Marcus’s work, perfect for a man trying to seduce a
15-year old girl. And Veda’s style is in the manner of Francesca Woodman (Below: Public Domain), light
but with something emotional about it.
Please include excerpt and include page
numbers as reference. The excerpt can be
as short or as long as you prefer.
[Page 79] Time slowed. It
became something she found new ways to measure. It wasn’t only the ticking of
her watch when she pressed it against her ear, counting out the seconds since
it happened. It was a tangible thing she could see and smell and taste as she
recalled what was now between them. That first night, after her shower, she
wiped the steam from the mirror with her hand and watched her naked image
emerge in the glass. The time it took for this newly-made person to appear
before her became a way to measure the hour that had just passed. She trailed a
finger across her forehead, along her jawline to her chin, then to her neck,
down her sternum, across her abdomen and further down too. Just like he did. A
long slow caress, its own languorous unit. When she closed her eyes, she could
smell his aftershave, the sweetness of the wine on his breath, and something
else, something animal. Sweat maybe, but not the sweat of heat and exercise.
The sweat of sex. All of this in the time it took to fill her lungs. And then,
letting go, the air passing from inside her body into the steamy room, blending
with the wet air, swirling around her, fogging the mirror again and obscuring
her new body, reminding her in that moment of the secret she must keep.
And now, there would be two
weeks when she wouldn’t see him. School was out and there were holiday plans
that would keep them apart. She later thought this break created a longing that
shoved aside any possible misgivings. In that time, she didn’t think about what
would happen next between them, only that she loved him. This feeling bloomed
inside her. His eyes on her, his fingertips as they danced across her skin, his
deep kisses, the tender words he breathed into her neck, the emotion in his
face as he moved inside her, the thrill of all that overwhelmed her.
She hugged herself. She was now a woman.
In front of the mirror again, she grinned at her reflection, leaned in
and kissed the upturned lips. Was this what he saw when he kissed her? Dark
brows. Long neck. Eyes half closed.
It had been inevitable. Inevitable. The syllables formed a refrain, a
beat that thrummed through her many times a day. All the weeks they had spent
together, the glances, the closeness in the dark room, that first kiss,
accidental touches, each leading to what had just happened. She marveled that
lying there with him could feel familiar. How could it be natural to feel his
naked limbs entwined with hers? Natural when he rested a hand on her breast, on
her thigh? How could it seem normal for him to stalk naked across the studio
and return with a glass of water? She had never seen a man naked. He held her
in his arms and put the glass to her lips, tipped it just so to help her drink.
It had spilled a little and they laughed, and then he had licked the dripping
water from her breast. He made love to her a second time then, less urgently,
with practiced touches, his curiosity apparent. Like an explorer, she thought
afterward.
Having a secret of this magnitude placed a veil between her and the
world. She rode home that first evening, her hair flying behind her, heart
beating wildly as she pedaled up the long hill, filled with the idea that
something significant to her life had just happened. She wasn’t the same Veda
anymore. The fatherless girl alone on the beach, the good girl who went to
school and paid attention and always turned in her homework, the forgotten
middle child in her sad, damaged family, that girl seemed far away to her now.
Marcus loved her and she loved him. That was all that mattered.
She spent the first week of the Christmas
vacation with Dale in San Diego, and Marcus was away for the second. Two weeks
when she wouldn’t see him.
Other works you have published? I have worked as a writer for over fifteen years, publishing articles,
reviews, short stories, and essays regularly.
Anything you would like to add? I would just encourage anyone interested in writing not to be afraid to
get your work out in the world. Submit to journals, enter competitions, look
for opportunities. And don’t be discouraged by rejections. They are a badge of
honor. Every single successful writer has had a share of rejections. It’s just
that they stuck with it when others gave up. (I say this as much to myself as
to anyone else!) (Right: Adair Valerez in 2011. Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only) 
After living in New
York City and traveling the world, Adair moved to Australia in the late 1990s,
where she established a writing career. She’s recently settled in Portland,
Oregon (attributed to Adair Valerez. Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only), one of the most lively literary cities in the USA.
Adair authored a column
for Arts Hub called “The Write Style” on
what an emerging writer can learn from avid reading.
She also won a number of awards and residencies. Her short story “One Hundred Points” won the One Book, Many Brisbanes competition, which led to other short fiction publications. She was a Varuna resident in 2010 and was recently awarded a 2018 Oregon Literary Fellowship for Fiction.
She also won a number of awards and residencies. Her short story “One Hundred Points” won the One Book, Many Brisbanes competition, which led to other short fiction publications. She was a Varuna resident in 2010 and was recently awarded a 2018 Oregon Literary Fellowship for Fiction.
In addition to Scrim,
Adair is currently working on Quantum Entanglements, a memoir about love and illness.
https://adairv.com/blog/ (Adair Valerez. Copyright permission granted by Adair Valerez for this CRC Blog Post Only)
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
001 11 15 2018 Nathaniel Kaine’s
Thriller Novel
John
Hunter – The Veteran
002 11 18 2018 Ed Protzzel’s
Futuristic/Mystery/Thriller
The
Antiquities Dealer
003 11 23 2018 Janice Seagraves’s
Science Fiction
Romance
Exodus
Arcon
004 11 29 2018 Christian Fennell’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
The
Fiddler in the Night
005 12 02 2018 Jessica Mathews’s
Adult
Paranormal Romance
Death
Adjacent
006 12 04 2018 Robin Jansen’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
Ruby the
Indomitable
007 12 12 2018
Adair Valerez’s
Literary Fiction Novel
Literary Fiction Novel
Scrim
