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THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2017
Erick Bengel | Features Editor
ebengel@dailyastorian.com
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LIFE WITHOUT
A DEADLINE
Courtesy
Muriel
Jensen
CONTACT US
An Astoria romance novelist puts down her pen
to early 19th century penmanship. Aaagghh! Another
belated thank-you to the sensitivity of all the knowledge-
able students of history in Astoria who knew better and
never pointed out my major error.
By MURIEL JENSEN
For The Daily Astorian
I
am free. Really. Free!
No, I haven’t been imprisoned, although
living in the recliner while I healed from
knee-replacement surgery was a sort of
jail. We had lots of visitors, though,
and, thanks to friends and neighbors, more
food than Safeway. So, all in all, not a bad
few weeks.
When physical therapists started visiting,
they were sweet, charming, and encourag-
ing, but when I had to fl ex and bend a knee
that had had rude things done to it, I hated
to see them coming. They literally got me
to the point of screaming, then patted me
on the back, clucked over me and told me
fi rmly, “Now do that ten more times.”
I went to the hospital for physical ther-
apy about a month later. Same kind of peo-
ple. Handsome or cute, kind and caring, but
with zero concern for the fact that I was turning
purple and writhing on the fl oor.
As though that wasn’t enough torture, I had to
rewrite and read page proofs on my August book. I
hated that even more than I usually do.
But, I was soon walking the dog, going to town and
blown away by the fact that my right knee was no lon-
ger a source of pain. Physical Therapy does know what
they’re doing. I’ve lost about 5 percent fl exibility, but I’m
fi ne with it. I doubt I’ll be dancing the Hopak anytime
soon, anyway.
And, for the fi rst time since fall of 1983, I’m not on a
deadline because I’ve decided to retire. Writing romance
novels has been a wonderful career, but more charac-
ter-building than ego-building. A real plus was being able
to set my own work schedule, or as Jean Auel (“Clan
of the Cave Bear”) loved to say, “Working for yourself
means only that you can decide which 18 hours of the day
you want to write.”
I’ve worked long, lazy days on the porch in the sum-
mer, long, cozy days in my toasty offi ce in the winter,
but for every workday that fi t comfortably into my life’s
schedule, many of them did not.
I’ve written in doctors’ and hospital waiting rooms,
with baseball or football games blaring in the next room,
or in the middle of the night because it’s quiet. I’m not
saying that’s harder than anyone else’s 9-to-5, just that the
pressure to get the day’s quota done to meet the terms of a
contract is there all day long — or all night long.
Going off script
And characters seldom perform according to the out-
line you provide an editor to sell a book.
The best and worst that can happen to a writer is that
characters take on a life of their own. Even for an experi-
enced novelist, a certain panic takes place when hero and
heroine go off script because it’s never certain if you’re
experiencing creative genius or lack of discipline.
Either way, you could end up having to delete a week’s
writing to take another run at it when the departure doesn’t
In a rare, wonderful place
Muriel Jensen
work. And that small failure underlies the new effort and
challenges your confi dence. Creativity is such a fragile
thing.
When things go well and you discover connections
you didn’t realize were there and the plot comes together
— never seamlessly, but like an irregular patchwork that
somehow makes a pleasing pattern — there are still a hun-
dred little details about the plot to track down. Weirdly,
they do their best to hide from you, but a reader some-
where will know that detail and not hesitate to call you
out on it.
Before we could look up everything on Google, the
detail search required at least a week spent in the Astoria
Library. (Belated thanks to Bruce Berney, a former librar-
ian, who always hovered around me to offer assistance.)
Following that is the tedious reading and rereading in
search of typos, grammatical errors and stupid mistakes
that somehow escaped attention. Such a mistake hap-
pened to me with my fi rst book, “Winter’s Bounty” —
unfortunately, after publication.
I named the small-town setting after Meriwether Lew-
is’s dog, Seaman. Only, in my book, his name is Scan-
non. That’s because, in my diligence to get my facts right,
I went to Fort Clatsop. Seaman appears on the compa-
ny’s roster, but the handwriting had a tendency to close
the loops on the Es and widen the Ms, so that “Seaman”
looked to me like “Scannon.” I trusted myself because
I’d gone to the source without giving a second thought
In honor of my new freedom, I have a teal
streak in my hair. I considered the pros and
cons of such a move at my age and was on
the fence.
But a dear friend, always eager to provide
comfort and support whatever the occasion,
said fi rmly, “Do it!” So I did. I bask in the
praise of those who claim to love it, and
shrug off the occasional “What were you
thinking?!”
Also, in my new freedom, I’ve begun
the great purge of 659 15th St. — two fl oors
and a basement of 800 square feet each. Not
an enormous house, but we’ve been here 41
years, and I’ve dreamed for so long of having
the time to do this.
There is some archaeology involved. In
boxes I haven’t opened since our fi rst move
from L.A. to McMinnville in 1972, I found all
kinds of kitchen things we’d received for our wed-
ding. Remember serving platters in olive green and har-
vest gold? Fondue forks and chip-and-dip bowls? Sword-
shaped appetizer picks and a giant drip-style 30-cup
coffeemaker? We have them all.
I bought plastic totes for what I’m saving, leaf bags for
what I’m throwing away, and cleared a spot to put things
I’m saving for some future front-porch sale. In the mean-
time, I’m in a rare and wonderful place in my life with
time to slow down and enjoy the simplicity of every day.
We have a dining room window with a wonder-
ful view of the Columbia River, and I can stop to watch
the ships or birds, or see what Greg Newenhof is up to
with the Flavel mansion next door, and my conscience
isn’t saying, “You should be writing.” I can walk Claire,
a Westie mix with murderous tendencies, and go a few
extra blocks because she’s having such a good time, and
be relaxed about it because I don’t have to write ten pages
that day. I can sit on the porch with someone else’s book
instead of my laptop and not worry about how much time
I’m taking because it doesn’t matter — I’m free!
The period in my life when I was work-obsessed
was such an exciting time for me. Now that I have to be
home-obsessed, I’m fi ne with it. I will always be a writer,
even if I’m not writing, and nothing seems to turn off
the “that-would-make-a great-story factor,” but I love the
knowledge that every day is mine.
It’s possible this course I’ve taken will change one
day, but for now, I’m hearing music in my head rather
than words. It’s Louis Armstrong, singing “What a Won-
derful World.”
Jensen has written for Harlequin since 1984. She’s
published 93 books in the American Romance line, Super-
romance and Harlequin Historicals. She lives in Astoria
with her husband, Ron, a Westie mix named Claire, and
a pair of Tabby cats. She has three children, nine grand-
children, and the great-grands are still coming.