While Writing Climaxes…

If you’ve ever written a climatic battle scene, you know how tense it can be.

The din–the clang of blade on blade, the war cries, the sweat and blood–overwhelms the imagination. I feel like I’m standing in the midst of it, dodging arrows and evading blows, while watching the narrator wield her knives against daunting opponents. Musical selections from soundtracks (from the Fields of Pelennor to Waterloo Station) feed the tension. Then, just as the narrator urges her weary limbs to block a death-blow and a plot twist of mythical and detrimental proportions is about to be unleashed, I hear it.

A thud.

A big thud. On the sliding glass door right behind me.

I nearly scream. My heart races. Part of me wonders if the enemy hordes from my imagination are coming after me. The other part reminds me that birds fly into the windows all the time.

I cautiously creep to peek outside and find this.

A squirrel. Hanging on the screen door.

It had never happened before and has not happened since. Of course, I’ve also moved past the climax for now, so who knows? Perhaps this mischievous creature is lying in wait until it hears my Climatic Playlist before it pounces again. Or perhaps it was only a very strange coincidence.

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4 responses to “While Writing Climaxes…

  • C.B. Wentworth

    That would freak me out, too! Maybe he was checking to see what all the noise was about!

    You know you’re writing something good when the scene has you completely immersed. The best writing happens when the world around us ceases to exist . . . except when a squirrel knocks on your door. Lol.

    I write at a bookstore a lot and more than once I’ve been jerked out of my story world when someone comes up to say hi. I now have the regulars and some of the employees trained to leave me alone when I’ve got my “writing face” on. Otherwise, they’ll be peeling me off the ceiling.

  • Anthony Lee Collins

    I had something similar happen once when reading. I was reading The Green Mile, and I was reading about an execution in the electric chair (not only an execution, but an execution that had gone pretty horribly wrong), and, just I was totally worked up (as Mr. King wanted me to be), I heard my bathroom ceiling fall in. I would have crawled under the bed and hid if there had been enough room.

  • Bryna

    That’s hilarious! I’m glad I’m not the only one who becomes that immersed. : )

    Anthony, I wonder if my squirrel had anything to do with the bathroom ceiling incident… Ha, ha!

  • An Unexpected Guest | The Everyday Epic

    […] know what sort of bird he was, but he was beautiful. After he bumped into the sliding glass door (which does happen occasionally), he sat on the porch for a few […]

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