Winging it

My first inclination was to entitle this post Wanging it because I like to replace i’s with a’s to convey a Missouri accent.  Didn’t so much fly with the word wing, that’s another post, probably best written by Avery’s best friend Jason Erickson.

The uh, winging it I’m referring to is writing related, of course.  I got a ton of work done on Day of Sacrifice yesterday and I had to giggle at myself for writing a story that has so much witchcraft and religion and world building involved in it.  How the hell did I get here?  I didn’t even try to be Goth in high school.  I had no idea that paranormal and urban fantasy were not the same thing until a year ago.  I’ve read one Stephen King novel, Pet Semetary, when I babysat for these people up the street growing up and forever had to run the half a block home that had no street light because that book scared the crap out of me.  Never read Anne Rice.  As sci-fi romance as I ever got was The Time Traveler’s Wife.  I mean, did you catch that  I used the phrase world building? 

I’m Jennifer Weiner’s target demographic.  Elinor Lipman.  Bridget Jones’ mf-ing Diary coulda been mine.  I worship Laurie Notaro.  That chick, the one I used to be before I decided to write a YA novel about a girl with some sort of, I don’t know, power, knew nothing of THE CAPITALIZATION OF IMPORTANT NAMES.  Now I’ve written a story with Guardians and Sacrifices.  There are rites and rituals and ceremonial objects.  People transport.

What I’m getting at with the winging it is, I have no idea what I’m talking about.  The most research I’ve done is asking my Tweeps on Twitter what the name for a male witch is. (For the record, warlock is offensive and wizard is not right.  A male witch is a male witch.)  Another thing I’m not doing, however, is mocking anyone who does know about all of this majickal, mystical, supernatural stuff.  I’d like to cut a deal, I’ll try not to offend, if you don’t pick me apart for making up names for things. In my world, some containers are called a potion kegs, okay? I figure it could be worse, I could have called them plastic mini-cauldrons.

I hope you all have a pleasant Monday.  I’ve got to get back to my Guardian Angel, Julian, who is about to be threatened with wang removal.  Kidding.  Don’t get your ceremonial robes in a bunch.