Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Los Angeles Times Festival of Books 2018

Last Sunday, I attended the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books held at the main campus of the University of Southern California. That’s my alma mater so always fun for me to go back on campus. Lots more buildings than when I went to school there eons ago.

I signed at the Sisters in Crime/Los Angeles booth again this year. The weather was warm, but not overly so. Had a nice time talking to people who stopped by. I also met some Sisters from other chapters (San Diego and Colorado) who were also signing at the booth.

 New this year was something called Newstory Zone, Creative Telling Beyond The Book. It included this Vortex Immersion Media 360 Dome. “Newstory is all about telling stories in inspiring ways that move audiences by offering up new and life-altering perspectives.” That’s what I read online, anyway.

I did not enter the dome, but here’s a video I found on YouTube from the experience.

On the more ordinary side, there was the usual giant crossword puzzles and a place where you could write down what book changed your life. I don’t know if I can think of one book that changed my life. Maybe Nancy Drew. The husband suggested I put my first book down because, well, it did change my life.

Plus areas for YA, children, poetry...

We didn’t spend as long there as we have in the past. Lots to do preparing to go to Malice Domestic. That’s where I’m headed next. That pretty much ends my run of conventions and major events for the year. Phew! Then I can get down to writing Aurora #5, Ghosts of Painting Past. I think I’ll kill off a surfer in this one...

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

On a more sombre note

by Rick Blechta

I find myself very contemplative today after the tragedy that occurred in Toronto yesterday afternoon. Those of us who write crime fiction deal with violence and the aftermath of violence nearly every time we pick up our (literal or virtual) pens. But with us, it’s just “funning’ around.” I doubt if many of us have actually come across the body of a person whose life ended in murder. (I did once, but that’s a story for another day.)

What has hit home with me (as with many others in and around Toronto) is that I’ve walked that stretch of sidewalk many times over the years. We don’t live that far away, there’s a movie theatre we patronize, and in Mel Lastman Square there is an outdoor amphitheatre where I’ve performed several times with various groups over the years. Literally, I’ve stood right where one person was struck and killed yesterday. A fact like that really tends to make one feel very mortal.

Thank the Lord, this doesn’t appear to be a terrorist attack, just the random act of a troubled person. Because of the actions of a very brave and very well-trained police officer, the suspect was apprehended alive. He was obviously itching for “suicide by cop” if you’ve watched the video of his capture, but the cop resisted using deadly force to end the stand-off. As a result, we might get answers as to why this man did such a horrible thing — not that it’s going to change anything, but answers are always good.

I’m at a point right now in my novel-in-progress where a murder needs to occur.

I don’t think I’ll write about that today.

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Using Location. Or Not

By Vicki Delany

We’ve been talking a lot about location here at Type M lately.  I suspect that conversation was started when I discussed my recent trip to London to do on-the-spot research for the fifth Sherlock Holmes Bookshop Book (as yet untitled).

My fellow typists talked about the importance of visiting a place to write about it. Which is something I think is important, and very much like to do.

When I travel people always ask me if I’m going to use that place in one of my future books.

I’m just back from three weeks in Malaysia, and I can guarantee you it will never appear in one of my books.  Not only did I not give my writing a single thought while I was there (unlike many writers who insist they are ‘always’ working, I can and do shut the whole thing down for weeks at a time when I’m on the road) I have no interest in setting a book in Malaysia, or many of the other places 
I’ve been recently.  For one thing, I have no contacts in the police, nor any way of getting any. And even a book about a tourist who runs into trouble in xx spot, needs to know something about how the policing works.  Cozy mysteries generally speaking stick mighty close to home.  Even the trip to London in book 5 required some devious plotting on my part to get the cast of regular characters to tag along.

But I had a great time in Malaysia.  It was like three vacations in one. The jungles and wildlife of Borneo, the cities and culture and food of the Peninsula, and then a beach holiday at the end on Langkawi.

Hope you enjoy a few pictures.

Me and a leaf

Into the jungle on Borneo

An Orangutan in the wild

Sometimes the accommodation was rustic

And sometimes it was not

It rained a bit

My order of an iced  coffee

Loved the town of Melaka
Dinner time

Street art in George Town

Friday, April 20, 2018

Working from Strength

Something occurred to me last night as I was trying to work on several projects at the same time with one eye on my calendar and a to-do-list scribbled on a piece of paper. What I realized -- and should have long ago -- is that I do need that calendar that I had once thought of putting up on my office wall. I need an "at-a-glance" way of planning.

That brings me to the title of this post. My strength is visualizing. If I can "see" it, it falls into place. If I can see it, I can get it done. The tasks I get done on time and with minimal stress happen because I'm so concerned that they will go right that I sweat every step, consider every scenario, and take proactive and preventive action. I think of this as "worrying"and usually save it for only the "too big to fail" projects. But what didn't occur to me until last night is that what I was actually doing was making mind pictures. My strength is "creative visualization" (with a nod to how that phrase is usually used).

This means that I need to get the biggest 2018 calendar I can find and put it up on my wall. Then I need to overlay that calendar with my important dates, using colored pens and appropriate images. A calendar version of a "vision board" that I can see at a glance. Then I will put together my own notebook organizing system that allows me to step into each task and walk my way through the steps -- "mind mapping" as I go and get the steps down on paper.

This sounds like a lot of work. A distraction from getting things done. But when I thought about it, I realized that on the days that go really well, this is what I do. The night before or that morning, I think about what I need to get done and map each "stop" during the day and what I'll need to move from place to place and accomplish what I should. Using this method, I remember the check I'm going to need when I get to the bank and the recipe I should look at before going to the grocery store because I see myself in each place. I've also used this method to remember books I want to look for in the library. And I sail through that day, much more efficiently than when I start out with a to-do-list that I haven't rehearsed.

I also realized I need to walk my way through each writing project I'm working on. This is an improvement on my usual outlining process and much more fun. Rather than saving this step for the revising process, I need to do it now. Play through the character's bios, imagining each character going through his life up to that moment, and then watch the entire movie. When I've done that, I'll be ready to go back and outline. In fact, I suspect this will also work with the non-fiction book. I've been bogged down because I had so much material to weave into a discussion of 400 years of dress and appearance in American crime and justice. Get those images up on my wall and write about them.

This morning something else occurred to me. I'm writing this sitting at the desk in my office at my desktop computer. I've been using my laptop a lot because it's mobile. But I need to be at this computer. When I imagine myself as a writer, I don't see myself working on my laptop. I see myself at my desk -- hands free to move over a keyboard that doesn't distract me because I need to think about it.  Sitting at my desk, I can "see" myself in the long line of writers at their desks.

I'm on my way to the office store to buy my giant wall calendar and my big notebook for organizing. I'm going to pick up anything else that might help me to visualize my way through the rest of the year. I've got a lot to get done -- finish a non-fiction book, finish a historical thriller, write two short stories that I promised to do for anthologies, teach a four-week writing class in June and take part in library events related to an award I'm receiving, conferences to attend -- and a lot of life upkeep and home improvements things that need to be done. But I'm feeling calm. I may be stressed out again tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure stopping to see my day and "walk through it" and then mapping out the tasks I need to get done will help.

Does anyone else use visualization to sweat the small stuff?

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Keeping Up With the Times

I’ve started a new novel and am slogging along in the jungles of the first draft. When I’m trying to get a first draft to look like something and having a tough time of it (which is always), I often wonder why I put myself through it. But then if I didn’t have a first draft I wouldn’t have anything to revise. I much prefer doing revisions to writing the first draft of a novel. In my metaphorical little world, writing the first draft is a coarse, rough, sweaty process. You slap that gesso on the wall by the bucket load and slather on the background paint. It’s messy and hard and, for me, a daily act of will to accomplish. But rewriting takes skill. It requires a true eye, real delicacy and finesse to shape that big old expanse of plaster into a work of art.

With rewrites, you get to see the story change shape and, if you’re lucky and skilled enough, grow into something beautiful. Of course, there are those horrible moments when you realize that you’re going to have to lose a scene that you really liked, or that word of which you are so enamored because it no longer fits the picture. I think perhaps that’s when you know you’re a real writer, when you can cut good stuff for the greater good of the story.

I must comment about Barbara's post, below, about how a writer faces the end of her book. I totally relate to her fear of not being able to pull it off. It's really horrible to know exactly how you want it to come off and not be sure you have the chops to do it. I never quite achieve the brilliant, knock-your-socks-off triumph that I had envisioned, but I'm usually pleased enough in the end. I often don't know exactly how it's going to end, myself, until it does. Once I do finish a book, I love to go back over it and fiddle with it, changing a word here, a sentence there, like polishing a new-made piece of furniture. Pulling off a great ending requires not only skill, but insight and not a little luck!

And one last word about computers (see Rick’s cautionary entry, April 17, below). I’m about twenty years behind the times when it comes to technology. I wonder if the reason isn't because I have no kids to shame me into keeping up with the times. For those of us who attained majority before the advent of the computer age, it just ain’t fair. We aren’t stupid. But we grew up in a world that required a whole other set of skills.

I hate to sound like an old curmudgeon who goes on about how she used to live in a shoebox in the middle of the road and eat mud for supper when she was a child, but that’s not going to stop me. I write a historical series, but I don’t think the past was better than the present.  Far from it.  I’m not nostalgic for the past. I don’t rue the fact that the world is changing. That’s the way it is. But it does seem that I hardly recognize the planet I grew up on any more. I don’t value the things that most of society seems to value.

I expect this happens to everyone, and has since the beginning of time. I wonder sometimes about those souls who manage to live to be 100 or 110. How must they feel about the fact that everyone else who understood their world has entered the choir eternal? How must they feel when the very world they knew how to live in is gone, when they find themselves on what amounts to a different planet, and they are the only ones of their species left in existence?

Hmm, there’s a plot in there somewhere. And now I beg to be excused so that I can go back up all my work.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Leaping into the abyss

John's post of last Thursday struck a chord. For me, writing the end is one of the most challenging aspects of creating a novel. Some people struggle with the mushy middle - pacing, twists, how to fill 200 more exciting pages. However, for those of us who fly by the seat of our pants, figuring out how to end the book is what keeps us up at night and fuels many an argument on a solitary walk.

There are actually two parts to the end: the climax, when the hero solves the crime and catches the killer, and the denouement, where everything is explained and loose ends are tied up. Gone are the days of the sleuth gathering everyone in the library (or courtroom) and talking to one suspect to another until he reveals the killer. Nowadays, even in gentler cosy mysteries, readers expect some drama to keep them on the edge of their seats. The climax is usually an action scene that pits hero against villain.

When I write a novel, I don't know whodunnit, why, or how the hero is going to figure it out. I plow ahead from scene to scene, unrolling more twists and complications and putting more balls up in the air. About two-thirds of the way along, I start to panic. Enough complications and balls up in the air! How am I going to land this sucker? I need to keep the hero (and the readers) in the dark, chasing suspects and red herrings, until the last possible minute, when they have an epiphany and go after the right suspect. I also need to have them capture that suspect in a reasonably dramatic scene, to keep the excitement and suspense going to the final moment.

It's a very intricate, high-stakes dance that requires quite a few pieces to come together in exactly the right way. Sometimes I don't even know for sure who my villain is until the final climax, when I have an epiphany of my own. As in "Ahah! This is the perfect villain to pull the whole story together!" Oh, the stress of standing on the edge of the abyss, knowing the end of your novel waits on the other side but with no idea what it is and how you're going to get there. Or indeed whether there is another side.

Tying up loose ends actually plays a role in figuring out the climax. Loose ends are those dozens of balls I have thrown up in the air during the story. Each one of them is a question that need to be answered. Sometimes after days of pacing in front of the abyss, asking "What do I do now?", I list all those questions on a sheet of paper and stare at them, like pieces of a puzzle, asking how they can best fit together, do I need them all, and what if I do this instead of that. Usually out of all this hair-pulling and what if's, the kernel of a solution emerges. A key piece, around which I can start to fit the others.

Once I've written this hopefully spectacular climax, I breathe again. I have a book. Rewrites will focus it, sharpen it, and get rid of the inconsistencies and rough bits. But it works! After this, the denouement is a time to breathe again, to address most the questions as yet unanswered and to hint at the future. The hope is to leave the reader satisfied with the story rather than thinking "But what about...", but also intrigued enough by the characters and the lingering questions to pick up the next book. 

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

The thing about computers

by Rick Blechta

I read Aline’s post yesterday, and contrary to what she said about my anticipated response, I  felt only sympathy.

Computers remain a mystery to those of us who grew up in an age where these mystical machines filled whole rooms and the biggest job of a programmer was to produce punch cards, those mysterious things that told computers what they were supposed to do.

We now have mobile phones that can do everything those room-size computers did back in the Dark Ages. Think about that for a moment. Technology has advanced to the point that you can slip a formerly room-size machine into your pants pocket, and contrary to making out those very abstract punch cards, my 4-year-old grandson can operate our modern devices. More about this later.*

The thing we oldsters can’t seem to get through our antiquated skulls is that computers have been and always will be Very Complicated Machines. I’ve actually seen the computer code needed to operate (what we call) a simple word processing program. Suffice it to say, it is voluminous, and to the non-programmer, completely impenetrable. Seriously, do not even contemplate trying to understand how your computer program does what it does.

Most of the time our amazing machines cooperate and run splendidly, but like any complicated piece of machinery, things do break down over time.

During the course of my work life I’ve had to learn a number of complicated programs, things that can do really amazing things. There are music scoring programs (3 of those so far), music recording programs (2), graphic design programs (3), photography (1 — thank the Lord!), web design (2), word processing (4). Literally, the instruction manuals for these take up over a metre of shelf space in my office.

Being a musician, one thing that’s been pounded into my head is that you must understand your instrument. In the computer sense, that’s the software you’re using (plus how to do various things on the computer itself). Did I spend a lot of time learning all these programs? You bet! Far too many hours gone forever but it has been of benefit.

Most people don’t  bother to reallylearn more than the bare minimum needed to operate their software. Some don’t even bother doing that. They just learn by the seat of their pants.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #1: Spend time learning your software. Like, actually read the manual first. Don’t use it as a tool to bail yourself out. It pays off in the long run. Oh, and those tutorials actually can help!

The next thing to understand is that because computers are so complicated, there are many more opportunities for them to break down. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. With that in mind, you need to take steps to protect yourself and all your hard work. If it’s a good idea to run maintenance programs on a regular basis — do it! Don’t put it off, don’t ignore it. Your computer will eventually bite you in the patootie. Count on it! (And usually at exactly the wrong time.)

Your hard drive is the heart of your machine. Think of it as your memory. What happens if you lose your memory? You’re in real trouble. Plan on your hard drive breaking down. It. Will. Happen. How do you get out of this conundrum? Back up your files regularly. You cannot be too careful about this. Offsite back-up is the best. If you, say, back-up to a hard drive you bought that sits right next to your computer, what will you do if your house burns down, or somebody robs your house while you’re out? Bet you all the computer gear will disappear. If you have offsite back-up, all you need is to download files to your new computer or hard drive, and away you go. If you’re paranoid like me, you have both a spare hard drive and offsite back-up.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #2: Always plan for the worst when it comes to computers. They will break down and you must have offsite storage or you will lose your work — or risk having to pay thousands of dollars to get it back.

Because computers are complicated, unless you’re a heavy-duty, experienced technician, you’re probably going to be stumped on how to fix it. That’s why it’s so important to cultivate a working relationship with a good and reliable computer technician. Believe me, they can be life savers. At the very least, ask around and see if you have friends or relations who Know About Computers. They can often get you out of a tight spot, and direct you to further resources if they cannot help with your problem. And don’t discount those far younger than you. *Twelve-year-old computer genius’s do exist — and one might live just down the street from you.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #3: Know where to get help before you need it.

So go forth and work with your computers in happiness and contentment — and may your hard drives never fail!