The Serendipity Genie

 Donis here, happy to announce that we just bought a new car. It's the first new car we've bought in 20 years. We decided we'd better do it now while the getting is good. It's a Subaru, which brand we've never before owned. I've always liked the look of Subarus, but never particularly noticed them on the road - until now, when it seems that Subarus are everywhere I look. Interesting how just paying attention changes one's reality.

Ever notice how ideas get into the ether and suddenly everyone has the same thought at once? Is it like a virus, spread by physical contact but no one knows where it first began? Or is there a more mystical source? I'm sure it's something infinitely more prosaic than Muses or an Oversoul, but what the heck, I like that idea better than just mental epidemiology.

A couple of weeks ago I decided that I could use a switch-up in my writing life and thought I'd try doing some short stories again. I say "again" because for many years, short stories and poems were all I wrote. Then when I began writing novels in the '90s, I quit writing shorter pieces altogether. When I sat down again to write my first short story in decades, I discovered that my short-form muscles need building up. If you practice the instrument for years, you're in danger of forgetting how to play. Fortunately, there seems to be some sort of muscle memory going on, and it is coming back to me.

Having tapped into that long-buried well after all this time seems to have dredged up the serendipity genie, too. Last week I dug into the chest at the end of my bed, looking for something unrelated to writing, and came across a box containing scores of sort stories I wrote over forty years ago. I had completely forgotten they existed. It took me several days to re-read them all. Many were unfinished. Most were pleasant diversions. Some were embarrassing. A few were surprisingly good. But what impressed me most about all these stories is that I never tried to get any of them published. I had written every one of them for the sheer joy of it, with no thought of monetary reward. 

It's like Virginia Woolfe said: "Writing is like sex. First you do it for love; then you do it for your friends; finally you do it for money."

In praise of launches

 In the past two weeks, I released SHIPWRECKED SOULS, my latest Inspector Green mystery, with two launches, one in Toronto and one in Ottawa. I have been doing launches for my books, sometimes alone and sometimes with another writer, for over twenty-five years, and I have never tired of them. The, launches serve four purposes.

First, they are a reward to myself,  the culmination of all the hard, lonely work that comes with writing a novel. Secondly, they are a marketing tool. As I described in a previous post on Type M, I promote the launch on my social media platforms for a few weeks before the event. In my case, that's Facebook and Instagram, both of which are public. I use those two platforms because I am too long in the tooth to get excited about TikTok and Threads and other newer platforms, because I have built up a friendship base on them over the years, and thirdly, I believe the people who might enjoy my books tend to use those platforms. This may be a wrong assumption, based on the fact I find them alien and annoying, but a writer can only do so many things. 

As the launch dates approach, I also send out specific invites to my email contacts and to my Facebook friends via the Facebook event feature. Unfortunately the Facebook invites are sent to Facebook Messenger, which not everyone actually looks at. But you do what you can. The purpose of doing all this launch promotion is not just to invite people to the party but also to announce the publication of the book.

At the Ottawa launch, Robin Harlick interviewed me. 

The third reason I have launches is to give me a chance to meet readers. It's wonderful to see old friends, family, and devoted readers who have become friends. Everyone is united in their affection for Inspector Green, and that's a very heartwarming feeling. In our darkest hours, writers often wonder why we do this job, and this reminds us. Readers buoy us up.

The fourth, and least important, reason for holding a launch is to sell books. I'm a traditionally published author; I don't make much money on each sale, so the amount I actually take home is fairly small. But it builds my relationship with the bookseller, in this case Perfect Books, and supports their store. 

The Toronto and Ottawa launches are different. I live in Ottawa and the Inspector Green series is set here. I have lots of friends and family here as well as readers, so I make it a real party. This year, after years of online events due to Covid, I booked a pub (Irene's Pub, which is very supportive of the arts), ordered some food platters, and arranged for a friend's band to play soft background jazz. There's always a few moments of panic beforehand. What if I throw a party and no one comes? It's a leap of faith that always seems to work out.

Toronto launch

Toronto is a more challenging market. The city is bigger and getting around it is difficult, I haven't as many contacts there, and if I  booked a pub in this case it might well be "what if I threw a party and no one came?" There's nothing more demoralizing than an empty party room. However, Toronto does have a wonderful mystery bookstore, Sleuth of Baker Street, which is very supportive of authors and author events. It's a smaller, more intimate setting surrounding by shelves of books, and it allows for an informal gathering of friends. 

In both these launches, I am so appreciative of the readers and friends who do come to celebrate with me. Being an introvert, I don't throw a lot of parties, but these launches are highlights! 

Balance

Catherine Dilts

When I retired from the corporate office job recently, I envisioned sitting at my computer for eight hours a day, churning out fiction manuscripts at a frenetic pace.

Even though I knew better.

During my day job years, I wrote some of my published stories in fifteen-minute increments with time seized out of a busy schedule. Like many writers, the flashes of brilliance I had during work hours had to be jotted down surreptitiously, for later development. Not exactly satisfying, this process felt like piecing together scraps to make a quilt.

When off the clock, I might have the luxury of six to eight hours to focus on a project. A few writing marathons went even longer. I wrote on Sundays, and even used holidays to write fiction. I participated in NaNoWriMo several times. To get 50,000 words slammed down in a month, you have to plant your rear on a chair and work long hours.

When I went to my doctor with a shoulder complaint a few years ago, I did the math. Between the day job and writing fiction, I was frequently at the computer twelve hours a day. Not every day. But often enough. That kind of workload is not sustainable. Physically. Excessively long writing sessions resulted in a couple stints with physical therapy.

When I no longer had a day job whittling away my time, I slid to the opposite extreme a few times. Briefly. I am at heart a workaholic. These forays into slackerdom didn’t last long.

Realizing I can go to either extreme, I keep a timesheet for my writing. And a fitness schedule for my walking and running. Both need to happen, or else everything starts to break down. Both require consistency. Both work and fitness activities also require breaks. Recovery days.

Saturday the weather finally cleared up enough for an outdoor walk. My husband and I enjoyed the fresh air, sunshine, and birds. The small brown birds were chirping with delight to bask in warm sun after a long cold spell. I almost felt like chirping, too.

Taking breaks from writing is necessary. Breaks offer a refreshing change of pace that often inspires a new story. On the flip side, inspiration is nothing without work to give it form. It’s all about balancing work and play, diligence and rest.

How do you balance the demands and delights in your life?

Real-life Breaking Bad

We love our crime stories but at a distance. Criminals are fascinating as long as they get no closer than Netflix, a podcast, or the pages of a book. Then life brings the crime up close and personal. 

My sister Sylvia and her spouse Janet were in Las Cruces, NM, visiting my 83-yo aunt Angelica. When returning to my aunt's home after completing mid-morning errands they saw that her car had been stolen. The fact it was missing was the first clue, then the evidence of broken glass, unusual tire prints on the lawn, and skid marks on the driveway. Sylvia immediately called the police. Astonishingly, within a half-hour, the car was found, missing its license plates and coated with black paint so fresh it was still wet. Six police cars and a K9 unit converged at the Coachlight Inn Motel and RV Park near I-10 and Motel Blvd. To see what kind of a place it is, check out the Yelp reviews. The motel is a hangout for criminals and drug trafficking and so the cops get kudos for connecting the dots in a hurry.

My aunt lives in the house on Kay Lane she had inherited from my parents. I lived there from the time I was ten and until I graduated from college. We lived at that address because an outbreak of meningitis in my old neighborhood had killed several children and left my sister mentally disabled. When my mother noticed that the victims were all Mexican, she insisted that we move to the white part of town because the government would have never allowed such a disease to rage through the Caucasian community. At the time, the neighborhood was middle-class, a lot of government workers and contractors. A neighbor up the street was a lawyer who drove a big shiny Cadillac. 

Now the area looks like Detroit in the desert. Plenty of broken windows covered with cardboard or scraps of plywood. Abandoned appliances. When the neighborhood was first designed in the early 1960s, grassy lawns and mulberry trees were the norm. To conserve water, the city now insists on xeriscaping, which means the forlorn lots are surrounded by dusty patches. 

Attracted by the commotion at my aunt's house, neighbors told my sister that the vicinity is known as a "weed and seed," a local colloquialism meaning the area is where the city dumps people with behavioral issues--i.e., drugs and criminal acts. Thefts and break-ins are common. We suspect the thieves cased my aunt's house, targeting her car because it was an easy model to steal and seeing when she had left, jumped at the opportunity. My sister noted that the details of the crime--New Mexico, drugs, GTA, sketchy-ass lowlives operating out of a sketchy-ass motel--made the experience like an episode of Breaking Bad.

As you can expect, my aunt was shaken by the ordeal. When she saw what these crooks had done to her car--broken window, busted ignition and steering column, ransacked interior, rasquache paint job--she began to cry. Her sense of security vanished, replaced by fear and paranoia. She can't simply move away. Selling the house in that depressed neighborhood would be challenge, plus she got a notice from her home insurance that because of squatters, they would suspend coverage if the premises was left unoccupied. 

Yes, life is much better when crime keeps its distance.

Creativity & Manifesting Your Dreams

    

Today, I’m going to share some excerpts from a recent essay I sent with my newsletter, PINK DANDELIONS. Not because I don’t want to write something specific for Type M, but because this is what I’m thinking about this week and anything new I tried to write would probably just rehash all this anyway. 

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower 

Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees 

Is my destroyer. 

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose 

My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. 

 –Dylan Thomas Lately 

I’ve been thinking about what I call “the creative energy of the universe,” what it is, how it operates without and within us, whether it’s simply a phrase to explain the inexplicable–OUR inexplicable–drive to create, thrive, succeed, manifest, or if it is actually somewhere, substantive, other, extra, above. 

    Can we find ways to connect with it or tap into it or use the force, I wonder? Or is it simply a concept? A wordy way to explain an ephemeral feeling that there must be something out there besides ourselves, or something within ourselves beyond flesh? Or both? 

     I believe in manifestation–tapping into the creative energy to make things happen as you want them to. Manifestation is inspiration (one kind of energy) plus action (a different kind of energy). If you set your sights on an accomplishment and take actions to help yourself as best you can, you end up accomplishing your goal, often through circumstances you couldn’t predict.

    That doesn’t mean something magical happened in the sense that saying a prayer or casting a spell made it happen just POOF! Prayers and spells are ways we focus our intentions. If we focus our intentions, we make certain choices in our actions. Our actions cause reactions, often leading to what we envisioned. 

     It’s kind of simple, really. 

    One thing I’m pretty sure of: You can’t really manifest if you don’t know what you want. 

     Now that I’ve accomplished the goal of becoming a published author, I’m not sure what I want. I have a dollar amount in mind for earnings. It’s modest. I don’t want to be famous, but I do want a loyal readership for whom I can create beautiful, entertaining, and uplifting stories. Also a modest number. What I don’t know is how I want to move toward these goals. 

     Traditional publishing? Indie publishing? Selling on Amazon? Selling from my own online shop? Creating a Patreon? Getting an agent? 

     It’s hard to envision the path forward. I’m in a holding pattern. I’m confused. I’m uncertain. I’m a pool a stagnant water. The force isn’t blasting against my roots or driving the flower of creativity through the green stem. 

     Here are some steps I’m going to use to move forward. 

     First, I’m going to get into a regular exercise, meditation, and journaling routine. Eating fewer carbs–especially sugar and pasta–usually helps with any brain fog I’m experiencing. 

     Second, using journaling and visualization and a vision board, I will figure out what I want my personal life and career to look like by this time next year, the year after, and five years from now. If you don’t know where you want to go, you will end up somewhere you probably don’t want to be. This step is crucial. 

     Third, with these outcomes in mind, I will think up definite steps to take and will work toward them every day. Calendar journals work well for this step. 

     Fourth, I will celebrate milestones and actions taken. 

     With some concrete inspiration and goals plus action steps to take, I believe I can create the creative literary and personal life I imagine. Maybe these steps will inspire you as well. Remember, creativity comes in many forms: art, home decor, cooking, writing. You can even see your LIFE as a work of art, one you create every day, each day a brushstroke on the canvas.

Friendships & Book Recommendations

One of the many things I have long enjoyed about the crime-writing community is the friendships I have made.

My first publishing contract was with the University Press of New England, and the advance was bad (never ask a novelist to calculate their hourly rate for a book), so I asked UPNE to pay for me to attend a mystery conference each year for the duration of a three-book contract. I attended Bouchercon. It was a wonderful experience. I met heroes, contemporaries, best-sellers, fledglings (like me), and most importantly people who loved books and the crime genre.

Three years ago, I moved to Michigan for my day job, leaving New England and the writing community there behind.

This is where things get interesting. In August, I was reading a back issue of Edgar Award magazine, came across an article on Andrew Gulli, managing editor at The Strand. He had accepted an article I wrote a couple years back. And, lo and behold, he lives in Michigan. I reached out. We had dinner, and in passing I asked for a book recommendation. “Something interesting. Something I can’t get at a Barnes & Noble,” I said.

“The Beast Must Die,” he said.

I ordered the book by Nicholas Blake on Amazon (yes, I probably could have ordered it on B&N, I know) while we ate.

I’m only ankle-deep into The Beast Must Die, and it’s good. But that’s not the point. The point, dear Type-Mers, is that friendships in the crime writing/reading community run deep.

I hope you have (or soon will have) similar experiences.

Now, I’m going back to my book so I can give Andrew my review at our next dinner.

Agoura Hills Library Event - Spring Into Mystery

 by Sybil Johnson

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of participating in an author event with Ellen Byron and Marjorie McCown at the Agoura Hills Library here in Los Angeles County. This was put together by Sisters in Crime, Los Angeles. The library is the new home of once-a-month events put together by the chapter. Events are held every 3rd Saturday of the month. 

Ellen Byron, Marjorie McCown and me holding up our books

I’d never been to that library before. It’s a really nice one. The space we had was cozy, which seems appropriate since we all write traditional/cozy mysteries. We had fun answering questions and discussing writing. Peggy Rothschild was our moderator. She did a wonderful job. She came up with lots of interesting questions for us. 

Ellen Byron, Marjorie McCown, me and our moderator, Peggy Rothschild

 

We had an appreciative audience who had their own questions. It was a fun discussion. Ellen and Marjorie both worked in the entertainment industry so they had some stories!

I managed to read from my book. I don’t think I bored people too much. They clapped and didn’t appear to be yawning during the 3 minutes I read.

We all had a fun time. I really missed doing events like this, especially ones in libraries since I really love them!

 

A Tough Task

 by Steve Pease/Michael Chandos

   My father died last year just after his 103rd birthday. I inherited all his "stuff". He was a career Air Force pilot, starting in 1939 and WW2, and retiring in 1968. His first operational airplane was a P-36, essentially a pre P-40 of Flying Tigers fame. His last was the supersonic F-102.  If you understand military aircraft, you understand the incredible range that represents.

   Fortunately, in the last decade of his life, he worked at slimming down his possessions. Still, there were things I didn't understand. A grandfather clock and two 200 year old restorable clocks. His hunting clothes. Photo albums filled with black and whites of people and places I didn't recognize. Two leather satchels and many boxes filled with the paperwork from a 29-year career. And all the years after. Things that were important to him.

   I offered anything and everything to my two younger brothers. They took a few things, but I still have all the boxes, dozens of framed photos and art, and records of relatives that I never met and who are strangers to me. There was a box from his mother, an Italian who immigrated to the US around the turn of the century. The turn of the previous century. There are letters in Italian, written in a beautiful hand script no one raised with computers will ever replicate. And family group photos.

   I can't keep it all. With respect, I boxed a lot of it up for the trash. (My heart jumps a little as I type that.) Goodwill didn't want it. I have dozens of framed art. Some of the art might be valuable, but some of it is a relative's very amateur painting. Memorabilia and photos from his career. I have his Air Force Mess Dress with medals and six uniform jackets. And that box of Italian memories. They must go or ? this year. Tough decisions ahead, again.

   As I swivel around in my writing chair, I contemplate. My writing "Lab" has two walls, floor to ceiling bookcases of books, mysteries, science fiction, literature, non-fiction writing books and general reference. Another wall has two tall Lawyer's bookcases of Sherlock Holmes. Books on my second career as a private investigator. Books from my fantasy career in theater and film. Coffee cups, photos, movie posters and stacks of books, papers, magazines. My Stuff.

   My father wouldn't know what to do with my stuff. My kids understand, but they aren't into piles of things. Their generation is minimalist. The grandchildren are too young to have an opinion yet, other than it's Grandpa's stuff.

   I'm a selling writer, but I don't think the University of Texas-Austin will accept the donation of my writings. That destination is reserved for the likes of Dashiell Hammett.

   As I cruise thru the seventh decade of my life, I contemplate. Will whoever handles my stuff be kind to it? Will they recognize what is valuable and what is precious? (Not necessarily the same thing) Do I leave them a memo?

   

A Little Something on the Side

 I learn a lot from the funnies page in the newspaper. I'm a puzzle aficionado, and start every day by reading the paper front to back, and then working all the puzzles. This is not quite the time consuming activity it use to be a few years go, when the daily paper actually had news in it. But at least the puzzles get my brain revved up for the day. One of my favorite puzzles is the Jumble, which consists of an anagram of a quotation from a well-known person. Not long ago I deciphered a quotation by Truman Capote which as a writer, I found quite insightful. It was as follows:

Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade, just as painting does, or music.

Perspective is a sense of depth. It's a way to show things in their true relationship to one another, a way to make them seem real.

The characters who people a novel are what the majority of readers care about the most. Action and suspense and an intricate plot are all fantastic, but if we aren't invested in the characters, we don't much care if they get it all worked out, or if they escape the danger, or figure out who did the deed. And if the author can create a series with true and appealing characters, then the reader will want to read the next installment, and the next.

So, your characters are involved in the intricacies of the plot. The sleuth has to find out who committed the crime, or who is chasing him, and why. The red herring suspects have to prove they didn't do it. The killer has to throw the hunters off his trail. But if the characters only exist to serve the plot, so what? If instead, the plot exists to reveal the characters ... now you're talking.

What does this have to do with perspective, you ask? Well, Have a seat, for I'm about to tell you.

A side story exists in a novel for the sole purpose of adding depth. It's through a side story that the reader discovers why the sleuth is like she is. Why is she so obsessive about unravelling the crime, even though she's been removed from the case, or fired by the client, or threatened with death if she perseveres? Could it be because the victim so reminds her of her own mother, who was also a battered woman? We find this out not because the author simply tells us, but because the sleuth goes home after a long day of detecting, and her mother is there, fixing dinner. We discover through successive scenes, actions and conversations, that her mother is physically and psychologically damaged from years of abuse. Perhaps Mom is agoraphobic. Perhaps she finally shot her abuser and spent time in prison. Perhaps the sleuth was ten years old when this happened, and to this day is riddled with guilt that she wasn't able to help her mother at the time.

None of this has to do with the major plot line, which concerns the discovery in an alley of a murdered woman whose body shows signs of years of trauma. Was she perhaps a professional show-jump rider, or a downhill skier? A roller derby skater?  Or maybe she was a battered woman. Our sleuth can't help her now, just as she couldn't help her mother. But maybe she can show the poor woman justice.

The side story has given the sleuth a life apart from her job. Now the reader knows her as a person, and we hope, cares abut her and is rooting for her to succeed.

So? When your critique partner cracks the whip on overused words.

Catherine Dilts

I’ve been in critique groups large and small over the years. Currently, one writer and I exchange manuscripts once a month. Beth lives way up the pass, and I’m in the middle of the "big city". She and I meet via Zoom calls. I am happy with the arrangement.

During a recent meeting, Beth advised me to do a very specific search. She suggested I check how many times I used the word “so” at the beginning of a sentence. Mostly in dialogue.

I found that an amusing request, but Beth is typically correct in her assessments of my writing. I did the search. I was horrified to realize my characters use “so” like other people have nervous tics. Remember the old Valley Girl stereotype of young women using the word “like” as a filler word, similar to a speaker repeating “um” in ridiculous quantities? Yes, like it was totally like that.

On one page, I used “so” at the beginning of sentences five times. I did believe “so” was justified at the beginning of a few sentences in the manuscript. I left those. But most were trimmed off with no ill effect to the meaning of the sentence.

Once Beth pointed that out to me, I became hyper aware of “so.” Hopefully not to the exclusion of the overuse of other words.

What should writers watch for in their work? “Really” and “very” are typically mentioned. Here’s a longer list: https://www.writeacademy.com/blog/how-to-identify-and-cut-your-crutch-words/

Whether it’s on an overused word list or not, if you notice a particular word repeated on a page, or worse, in a paragraph, it might be time to do a word search of your manuscript.

We don’t rely solely on each other’s evaluations. I also have Beta readers who review my work, and so does Beth. Fresh eyes are always welcome. Even the best critiquers can miss typos, choreography errors, or inconsistencies.

I have heard tales about other critique groups that continue unbroken for decades. My own experience has been that situations change. People move, or lose interest in writing. Feathers get ruffled. Personalities clash. Writers may simply find better feedback in genre-specific groups.

Beth and I have stuck together on this writing journey for well over a decade now, but in different critiquing iterations every few years. We share not-so-fond reminisces of some former critique partners. Others I learned a lot from, through their kind instruction.

Can you call a two-person critique group a “group”? I do, out of habit. Will we ever admit new members? Doubtful at this time. Critiquing, and being critiqued, requires trust. When you have hit upon good chemistry with another writer, it’s best to stay the course.

And if your critique buddy suggests you do a search for a particular word choice or phrase, do it! 

No Conflict, No Story

 By Thomas Kies

Syd Field, author of Screenplay: The Foundations of Screen Writing, said, “All drama is conflict. Without conflict, you have no action; without action, you have no character; without character, you have no story; and without story, you have no screenplay.”

On the other hand, Ursula Le Guin claimed that not every story needs to revolve around conflict, advocating for the importance of other human experiences like connection, growth, and understanding. 

I happen to agree with Mr. Field.  Even stories about connection, growth and understanding stem from conflict. 

What types are there?

Man (or Woman) against Self. In my mystery series, the protagonist, Geneva Chase is an alcoholic. She also suffers from body dysmorphia and depression that leads to self-defeating actions.  The very fact that she succeeds at what she sets out to do (while being a smartass and snarky at the same time) is what makes her relatable.  I believe that most of us have inner demons that create conflict.  Have any doubts?  Wouldn’t you like that piece of chocolate you’ve hidden away in your drawer right about now?

Good against Evil.  This is the straightforward Good Guy versus Bad Guy scenario.  Superman versus Lex Luthor, Sherlock Holmes versus Dr. Moriarty, Luke Skywalker versus Darth Vader.  In real life, this might be more relatable if it’s you versus your boss at work…or you versus the insurance company…or you versus the cable company.  You get the picture.  It’s still good against evil. 

Man (or Woman) against Nature.  This is where your protagonist struggles against storms, earthquakes, animals, revived dinosaurs, or surviving in the Andes Mountains after a plane crash as in the movie “Society of the Snow”.  With climate change becoming more of a factor in our lives, we see this in real life with increasing intensity of hurricanes, wildfires, droughts, floods, and snowstorms.  Oh wait…they don’t want us to talk about climate change anymore, do they? That seems to be a bit of conflict with nature.

Man (or Woman) against Society.  Examples in literature are Orwell’s 1984 and Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Examples in real life…well, just watch the news.  

Man (or Woman) against Technology.  A literary example of this is Asimov’s I, Robot.  An example of a movie is M3GAN.  With technology accelerating so quickly, it’s difficult to use in your writing.  By the time you’re published, your premise might be obsolete.   I’ll have to check with AI to make sure I’m right about this. 

Man (or Woman) against the Supernatural.  Vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts…oh my. So many examples here.  Wait…what was that sound in the attic?

It really doesn’t matter what your genre is, conflict will be part of it.  Crime novel….will the cop catch the murderer before he kills again?  Romance…will the boy get the girl?  Historical fiction…will we win World War II?  

As Syd Field stated, without conflict, you really don’t have a story. I’m teaching another Creative Writing class and last week I gave a prompt to write a scene of about 500 words dealing with conflict.  I’m eager to hear how they did.  They’ll be reading their work in tonight’s class. 

Heck, just giving them the assignment, I gave them conflict to deal with. 

Writing in a New Place

View from the road in Hagåtña, Guam

Greetings from Guam!

After nearly a month on the island of Guam, my hubby and I are in our own apartment. Our household goods haven't arrived yet, but we've successfully hooked up with a local internet provider. 

I have no excuse for not jumping into my writing projects.

New Project Set in Guam

One project I'm excited to begin is a women's fiction novella series set on Guam. The idea is to share what I'm experiencing through a fictional character named Stephanie Smart, a literary writer whose star has begun to fade at the same time she experiences a personal drama. She decides to move to Guam and get away from all the mess of her former life. She meets a man who says he's there on international business, but is he hiding something? Most likely. Because I can't seem to not include intrigue in my fiction these days. 

I'm really looking forward to getting into this. 

So why am I procrastinating?

The Procrastination Monster

That's always the question, isn't it? We've all been there. We have something we want to begin or finish, but tugging on our arm is The Distraction Monster, dragging us from our task, hanging on our hands like a cranky, demanding three-year old at the water park. 

"Go over there!"

"I'm hungry!" 

"I'm thirsty!" 

"I want to have fun!" 

"I don't wanna sit down quietly!"

"No! No! No!" 

Are you picturing a little red-haired hellion throwing herself to the ground and throwing a tantrum? Kicking her ratty, untied tennis sneakers, face screwed up, crocodile tears hiding the sneaky look in her eyes? That's the Distraction Monster. 

(Where's my Catherine Zeta Jones Reclining on a Fainting Couch and Smoking a Cigarette While Drinking a Martini Muse when I need her? She's reclining. And unconcerned. Unhelpful at this moment. She leaves ME to deal with the procrastination hellion. "I'll be here when you take care of that brat," she says, her voice a nonchalant and smoky purr.)

Procrastination is a brat. It's immature. It does not want to take responsibility. The key is to show it you're the adult in the room. Ignore its excuses. Send it to sit in the corner, face to the wall. Put it to bed with the shades pulled, a snuggy blanket around it. Whatever you have to do to move forward. 

Multiple Projects

Procrastination Monster with a sly smile, batting her eyelashes at me innocently while I give her a stern talking to and interrupting me: "But I need to finish this one first! You said so. Remember? Huh? Huh? You did!" 

I've never been good at juggling multiple writing projects. How about you? 

I prefer to finish one, start the next. However, I'm hoping to try a new strategy while we are abroad for the next several years, and there is no reason for me NOT to begin writing Steph's story. 

So if I have the internet, my trusty Chromebook, a good idea and notes, what's holding me back? Besides the usual procrastination, I really want to complete a half-typed short story about my female P.I. Olivia Lively. I did finish it, by hand, back in June. Those pages are somewhere on the Pacific Ocean with the rest of my stuff, and for the life of me I can't remember the middle part of the story. 

I know the beginning. I know the end. I can't remember what happened in the middle because I rewrote that thing three times before I got it right, sometime around 3:30 a.m. one night at my parents' house in Maine, where I was writing in a notebook because I had no internet service. After finally catching that wave, I rode that story all the way to THE END, but darned if I can remember how I got there. 

Was the cousin important? Did she go next door? How did she get to the [spoiler] at the end to uncover the truth? 

Have you ever had to recreate a story you finished? Because you lost the pages or the computer crashed or something similar? 

I just need to sit down at my computer and think up some new middle for the short story and start typing. Something will come to me, right? 

Meanwhile, I'm keeping an online journal about my Guam experiences and writing on ShelleyBurbank.com several days a week if you are interested in reading more often about my adventures overseas.

Gun Beach, Tumon Bay

[Of course, now I want to try to draw some illustrations of The Procrastination Monster and my Muse. Which is, of course, MORE procrastination. Sigh. I'll leave you with this drawing that represents my seeker self, looking for meaning and answers and creativity and joy in crazy times. Maybe next post I'll have the Procrastination Monster and the Muse to amuse you. And hopefully news on a completed short story.]

Happy reading and writing this week, my friends! 

Cheers, 

Shelley

In Person Events

 by Sybil Johnson

I enjoy doing in person events, whether it’s mystery conventions or signing at the Sisters in Crime Los Angeles booth at the LA Times Festival of Books or bookstore events or library events... It’s fun to talk about my books and mingle with other readers and authors.

The only thing I don’t like to do is read from one of my books. I’m bad at it. Really bad. But if I have to do it, I will. Just don’t look forward to it.

I haven’t done a lot of events since Covid. I do try to sign at the FOB, though I won’t be able to do that this year since it’s the same weekend as Malice Domestic. Malice is my favorite conference so it takes precedence. I’m all signed up for that and raring to go. The last event I did was a Mystery Ink bookstore event with Jennifer J. Chow last year. We had a lot of fun. The questions were interesting and I enjoyed hanging out with Jennifer. 

I have an event coming up on Saturday, February 15th at the Agoura Hills Library, which I very much am looking forward to. It’s a panel with Ellen Byron and Marjorie McCown, both great writers and fun people. They’ve both worked in the film industry so they have a lot of interesting stories to tell.

This event was set up by Sisters in Crime, Los Angeles. Apparently, the space we have has limited seating so people have to sign up in advance. 

Spring Into Mystery with Sisters in Crime Los Angeles
Sat Feb 15, 2025, 1-2:30 pm
Agoura Hills Library
29901 Ladyface Ct.
Agoura Hills, CA 

 For more information on the event and to reserve a space: https://visit.lacountylibrary.org/event/12859866

This past Sunday I attended a SinC/LA meeting where the featured speaker was Walter Mosley. It was very interesting and entertaining. You can watch the recording of it on YouTube free.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=APFHavZtRNON2dv0&v=HSudRer2KeE&feature=youtu.be 

Have you all gotten back to participating in or attending in-person events? Are there any kinds of events you particularly like?

Slow start

by Charlotte Hinger

My shiny New York began with the best of intentions then got off to a dismal start. A case of cellulitis landed me in the hospital for IV antibiotics. It was followed by a reaction to oral antibiotics that I overcame just in time to be plummetted into my usual seasonal allergies.

What allergies? In January? When there's no pollen? Yes indeed. There's a quickening among all the bushes and trees. Go outside and see for yourself. All the little twigs start growing tiny little buds. Actually, apart from my sinuses, it's quite exciting. It's an irrevocable promise that there will be a spring. All we have to do is wait out the winter.

What I do best, is lying around reading books and eating popcorn. But it's not a sustainable life plan, It leads to muscle and mental deterioration.

Today I took myself in hand, vowed to overcome my tendency toward sloth and got back on track. I slipped into my morning routine. I reread the mystery I'm working on and made some progress on the next chapter.

I had a problem. One of the characters--a child--was out of whack. He was saying things that didn't ring true. That's where had I left off before I got sick. I didn't have a single bright idea for fixing this when I sat down. But it came to me after I started writing.

I've been writing for a long time and I still can't explain the writing process. Words come. They always do. Sometimes I think the only part of my body that knows what to do next are my fingers. The brain has nothing to do with it. When the fingers start moving, whether it's pushing a pencil or hacking away at a computer, words come.

My health problem was minor and easily treated. I'm in awe of the writers who have triumphed over overwhelming physical and emotional setbacks.

Stephen King was hit by a car in 1999 and suffered horrible injuries. He had a collapsed lung, broken ribs, a severe head injury, a broken hip, and a totally shattered right leg. His millions of fans worried that he would never write again. He did. In fact he's published book after book since then.

Louise Penny did not believe she could ever write again after she lost her husband. In one of the afterwords of her first novel written after Michael's death, she had a moving account of how it happened. Her typewriter still sat on the table and she passed it every day. One day she simply typed Armande Gamache. She couldn't help herself. The next day she typed one more word. Another the next day. Then she began writing again in earnest.

We are writers! If you think you are not, the fact you read writing blogs tells me you are. So begin. Sit down and just do it. Trust your fingers.

The fingers know.