How the Sausage is Made

 I read Tom's entry about letting your newly-finished MS rest, below, with great sympathy and understanding. Mainly because I am doing the exact same thing right now. I've been writing on a new book, a stand-alone, I think, for over a year. For me, at least, it takes a long time to really get to know a brand new set of characters, a new setting, a new time period. I used every minute it took.

As I was writing this tome the story was wandering around in the wilderness, looking for the path to take it to the end. Every two weeks I would submit 20 pages to my critique group, and I almost always got positive feedback on the direction of the tale, my style, etc. As I wrote, I kept tweaking the plot. The direction kept changing, sometimes subtly, sometimes with a screeching u-turn. As I approached the climax, the end did not quite match the beginning any more. I knew there was some major rewriting in store.

Then the day came that I submitted the final pages - the reveal, the denouement. And my group hated it. Part of the problem was that for the past year, I've been submitting 20 pages ever 2 weeks. the group didn't remember many of the clues I'd dropped early on. The rest of the problem was that over that long year, I overthought everything and ended up with a much too convoluted reveal.

So. Time to let the story rest for a few weeks.

For me, this is how the sausage is made. It happens to me a lot, though not usually in such spectacular fashion. My first draft beginnings very often don't match the ends, because I keep getting brilliant ideas as I write. Or more properly, my characters get brilliant ideas and won't do what I thought they ought to do.

In any event. The story is resting and ripening in a drawer, and I've been sharpening my knives in anticipation of killing a lot of darlings in the MS. As the theatre manager character says in the movie Shakespeare in Love, it'll turn out fine. I don't know how. It's a miracle.

Since this is my last entry before Christmas, let me wish you Dear Readers a very happy Holiday Season, and may the upcoming year bring you blessings. (Please!) And here's a photo of our lovely tree for your enjoyment.

 

Encouraging Your Muse

 Catherine Dilts

Waiting passively for “the muse” to whisper in your ear is like sitting in a dark room waiting for someone to turn on the lights. There’s a point at which you need to stand up, walk across the room, and flip on the light switch.

There are periods when writing fiction can feel like slogging through a murky bog. Other times, the ideas rush like a clear mountain stream drawn downhill by gravity. There’s an undeniable ebb and flow to creativity.

What happens when a writer has gone days, weeks, or months without a visit from their muse?

Creativity can’t be forced, you might say. To which I counter: people do all kinds of things to trick their brains into being in the right state to perform various tasks. I recall finding my younger daughter sitting in her room with a text book and a candle. She explained that she was training herself to be focused to study whenever that scented candle was burning.

Ah, a physical cue. Like brewing coffee in the morning as you get ready for work. The smell of the coffee, even more than the caffeine, is a signal for your brain to switch gears.

Routines and triggers can cause you to anticipate an activity, but can they make you feel creative? Yes. I believe you can trick your muse into showing up, just as you can steer your brain, if you consistently use the same techniques.

All of the techniques. Because your brain is a crafty creature, and dull routine can sap creativity. So change things up.

Routine: Yes, I just said dull routine can sap creativity. But a routine is essential for convincing your brain that it’s that time of day. Time to write! Use scent, sound, and scenery cues. Like my daughter’s scented candle, smell is a powerful trigger. Some authors need the sounds of a coffee shop, while others need noise-cancelling headsets, or certain types of music. While writing an as-yet unpublished novel, I played late sixties to early seventies music constantly, to set my mind in the time period. 

Confidence: Believe in yourself, your message, and your skillset. There’s no greater drag on creativity than self-doubt. If you falter, “fake it ‘til you make it.”

Keep going: When you think you’re stuck, or become bored with a project, push just a little bit longer. You might make it past that speed bump and get rolling again.

Step away: The polar opposite of the above advice? Not exactly. The step away technique doesn’t simply mean quit writing. Work on a different story, writing-related social media, promotion, or research.

Touch grass: the youngsters use this phrase to mean “step away from your electronics.” Get off social media, peel your face off your computer/TV/phone screen, and go outdoors. Sunshine and fresh air have wonderful healing properties. Get grounded in nature. Or focus on a different type of creativity. Crocheting, painting, tying flies, or cooking, like making a batch of my annual gingerbread dinosaur cookies shown in the photo above.

Lately, I’ve been experiencing an upswing in creativity and energy. I know this feeling isn’t permanent. There will be times when my desire to hammer away on my keyboard flags. This time of year, there’s no grass to touch. But if I hit a slump, maybe I can touch snow to jumpstart my creativity.

Let That WIP Rest

 When I was in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think.  It’s either that or watch a ton of FRIENDS reruns.

Before going to the Galapagos, I’d sent a manuscript to my agent to read.  When I hit the send button, I thought it was a pretty good story. But as I said, while recuperating, I had a chance to think about it and knew that I was wrong. 

I could make that sucker better.

I needed to let the manuscript rest first, and then go back and look at it, rewrite it…reedit it.  

What do I mean when I say, “Let it rest?”  I mean put that story in a drawer and leave it alone for a few weeks or even longer.  Take some time to read books, visit friends, travel, or maybe even start a new project.  

Then revisit your Work in Progress.  You’ll see it with fresh eyes, getting a new perspective. You’ll be better able to spot plot holes, character inconsistencies, and other issues you may have missed. You’ll come back to your manuscript with a more objective and critical mindset.

It’ll help you gain clarity on both your story and your characters.  It may help you find new ideas or answers to problems that you couldn’t see before.  

Coming back to your Work in Progress will help you polish your manuscript. It’ll also give you a chance to renew your creative juices.  

Guaranteed, it will help you catch a ton of typos.  

As luck would have it, my agent hadn’t had a chance to read the manuscript, and I asked her not to.  Not until I had a chance to take another look at it.

By spending time reediting the work, I’m able to put more “flesh on the bones’ of the characters I’ve written.  You want them to be as three dimensional as you can possibly make them. 

I hope to be finished with the edits before the end of the month and get the manuscript back into my agent’s hands by the first of the year.  I think it will be a much better product.  I've even retitled it. Fingers crossed, we can find it a home.

Creative Longings

By Shelley Burbank

I was chatting with an artist friend of mine, Sharon, about creativity.* Sharon once wrote a novel. She always wanted to be a writer, or thought she did. She’s very talented. She can write a beautiful sentence, build a story, and conjure characters from thin air.  

Writing, however, made her unhappy. By her own account, writing took her to dark places, made her miserable. Dealing with the publishing landscape multiplied that misery by a hundred-fold. After much soul searching, Sharon realized she and writing needed to break up. Instead, she turned back to her first love, art. It is as if the sun burst forth from the clouds.

Since taking up sketching, painting, and other visual art again (plus interior design, to boot), she’s light, happy, fulfilled, and practically blazing with joy. It’s been wondrous to behold. 

Here’s a not-so-secret secret: I wish I could draw. Draw, paint, all kinds of visual art. I’ve practiced. I can sometimes do a passable facsimile of the thing, but drawing doesn’t come naturally. The urge to create something in visual media comes naturally. The act–the muscle memory and the eye–not so much. (Collage is satisfying, and I’ll do that for myself when the mood strikes. For my own enjoyment.) 

I love illustrated books and stories. I envision these illustrations and want them for my stories and think I want to make them. If I’m being totally honest, though, I think what I really want is the finished product. I’m not that interested in the process, and we all know that process is the good part when the art’s real inside. When the art’s part of you. 

An illustration by me

Today I told Sharon, “I’m jealous of artists. But I remind myself I can enjoy it without having to DO it.”

“That’s where I’ve gotten to with writing!”

“Why do I think I have to DO everything????”

“Girl, if I had that answer for myself, I’d share. We both have the ‘I bet I could do that’ gene.”

“Right,” I said. “I bet creative people just get urges to create. Maybe it’s that simple. So do the one you’re best at. Support the rest.”

That last bit hit me, even as I typed it. Creative people are often drawn to multiple disciplines, hobbies, arts. Piano lessons in grades 1-5 taught me I’d never be a musician, even though I enjoyed playing my favorite songs well into my college years. Sometimes I suspect I’d be good at sculpture. Or pottery. Or weaving. But I’m old and wise enough now to know that’s ridiculous. 

I learned to knit and tried spinning yarn for a while, loving the idea of fiber art. I had fun playing around with the spinning wheel and drop spindle, looking at fiber art magazines, day-dreaming about natural dye processes. I carded, rolled, spun yarn, and knit a scarf from mohair roving…

Reader, it didn’t stick. 

My one true passion has always been books and writing. Writing is where I’ve put my energy and my ten-thousand hours. Writing is my art form. 

I can appreciate all the arts. I can listen to Mozart’s Queen of the Night aria and sing it at the top of my lungs in the car all alone, but I’ll never sing opera in public. I love theater, but find me in the audience on opening night clapping my hands off. I’ll pick out beautiful handspun yarn at the Fryeburg Fair and admire the woman spinning directly from her angora bunny in the corner. I’ll follow visual artists on social media and sigh with admiration over the designs, but my collages and art journals will be for myself and for sharing on social media as amateur-at-best pieces, not for professional purposes. I’ll buy hand-thrown pottery, art prints, handmade quilts, and fabulously concocted desserts. Yes, my heart will ache a little to do all these things, but I can resist.   

I don’t have to do it all. Writing is my medium. I can support the rest.

_________

* Names of people in my essays are changed and sometimes the characters are amalgams. The conversations are real. 

Head Scratching

I sold my first book when I was in my twenties, which seems like a lifetime ago. That makes sense since the publishing industry ages in dog years. It was 1999. I wrote a cover letter, submitted to the University Press of New England (I was a teacher and thought selling a novel to a university press would be a feather in my academic cap). I received a letter back requesting the manuscript, and then negotiated (who am I kidding? I took what was offered) the contract myself (getting them to kick in to fly me to Bouchercon each year) and wrote five books in my first series for UPNE. Having “proven myself,” an agent took me on and sold my next series. Pretty typical.

(Photo: Corrigan Family Curling Excursion)  

That was then. This is now.

So much has changed. There are a variety of avenues one can traverse to publication now: self-publishing, hybrid publishing (different from vanity; the author shares production costs for higher royalties and retaining more rights than is typical with a traditional contract), traditional publishing with the “big five,” and traditional publishing with small houses.

Financially, the landscape has gotten confusing. It’s harder than ever to break in with a major house, which, of course, pays the largest advances. Many small publishers stopped giving advances at all but in a perfect world they still treat you like family. And hybrid publishing, if you can afford it and can hustle, might end up paying more than the other options.

Everyone seems to have a story or an opinion on the best route forward. I’d love to hear from the Type M community on all of this.

Rereading Your Past AKA I Wrote That?

 by Sybil Johnson

While I’m proud of all the stories I’ve written over the years, I’m not fond of rereading them. Whether it’s a short story or a novel, I cringe every time I think about it. The older the story is the more resistant I become to reading it.

I don’t even like listening to an audio version of my books. The first 3 in my Aurora Anderson series are available in audio format and have been for a while now. I’ve only listened to the first one, Fatal Brushstroke, on a driving trip up the West Coast. I even found myself gasping once and briefly wondering what would happen next! Yes, I really wrote the book. I had to laugh at myself. In my defense, I’d written a couple books in the series since then and pretty much as soon as I start on a new book, I’ve forgotten what happened in the previous one. Even though the narrator did a fine job, I don’t think I can bring myself to listen to the other two.

I have no problem rereading and rereading and rereading a story that I’m currently working on. I rather enjoy editing it. But, once it’s been published somewhere, I have no desire to read it again. There has to be a good reason for it.

I’m not sure why this is, but I suspect it’s a case of what if. What if I reread it and the writing is just awful? What if the plot is bad? What if the characters aren’t interesting? I suspect it can’t be that bad since someone else liked it enough to publish it, but these thoughts still go through my head. 

Recently, I found the need to reread a couple of short stories that were published in Mysteryical-e in 2009 (“Cemetery Plot”) and 2011 (“Some Like It Raw”) These stories were published several years before my first book came out. I’m currently working on a short story that featured the same characters. I remembered them reasonably well, but I couldn’t remember all of the details.

So I braced myself and started reading. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the stories. I’m sure they could be improved, but I was happy with the versions that were published.

Felix, my first crochet project. Not perfect, but I'm still proud of him.

 

I find it much easier to forgive mistakes in my craft projects. I don’t have this same reaction to what I’ve painted or crocheted or embroidered or macramed... I know I did the best I could at the time and am proud of the result. I’m striving to feel that way about my writing.

What about you? Do you cringe at the thought of rereading something you’ve written? Do you think there’s value in rereading an old story to see what could be improved?

Is snow a blessing

 by Steve Pease writing as Michael Chandos

     My To-Do list is huge. I have house tasks, cars, lawn, filing, all the stuff that occupies life. The weather is bad. What to do, what to do.

     My Writing To-Do list is also huge. I'm a former intelligence officer and private investigator. I like facts, analysis, photos, and articles on subjects that "one-day" might be relevant. I have videos from Youtube about point of view, plotting, pace, marketing, idea generation, various plot structures, and the Hero Cycle. Since I also write hard-ish science fiction, I have articles on warp theories, dark energy, gravity, and trajectories to Mars. I have materials on the courts, the police and Private Eyes. You can never tell when that article about hollowing out asteroids to use as a generation ship might suggest a story.

     I have terabytes of photos of gnarly urban buildings and alleys, futuristic cities and alleys. and Spaceships. The astro engineer in me loves spaceships. Photos of interesting faces. men with the scars of life written in every line, women with piercing eyes, clothing, transportation, house and office interiors, airports and spaceports.

     I saved many photos from the online archives of the now-defunct Herald Examiner newspaper in LA. The murder mystery novel I'm working on takes place in 1963. The archives are full of photos from the newspaper from the 50s and 60s. The Examiner never shied away from a lurid story, a nasty murder, a dock worker riot, or Zoot Suiters. I captured hundreds. My 1963 novel, "Shade of Brown", is located in real places with, I hope, genuine descriptions of 1963 LA, thanks to these photographs.

     One of my best resources are my ten years of private investigation case files. Rest assured I don't use real names and places. People treat each other horribly. If you like the noir films post-WW2, you'll appreciate these real-life happenings. Obsessives, liars, cheaters, back-stabbers. A 70 yo woman in obsessive love with a guy in jail in Kansas who is selling her home to bail him out of jail. My research showed him to be a multiple-State felon, a liar and cheater since he was twelve, convicted of robbery in two States, convicted on a confidence game in Texas with open warrants there still. Her grown children were in a panic. I gave them his background papers. She didn't believe them, sold the house, disappeared. 

     That's what I'm doing this week. Organizing, filing, and changing file names to reflect the actual content. This stuff is all gold, IF I can find it when I need it. It is 16 degrees out, 6 inches of snow today, a week of high 30s to come. No open story deadlines. No better time to straighten out a few things.

Grateful

My husband just made a delicious batch of molasses bread. I love it. It makes the whole day better.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I’m more grateful for small things these days than I used to be. I used to have big expectations and was disappointed when they didn’t materialize. I’m seldom disappointed by anything now, since I no longer have expectations. Is this a bad thing?

For forty years, a swami lived in a cave high in the Himalayas, seeking enlightenment. For forty years he sat meditating in complete isolation, naked except for a blanket, never seeing another living soul, eating only rice and drinking plain water.

When the forty years were over, the swami’s mind was as clear and still as a mountain lake, at peace at last. “I have achieved enlightenment,” he said to himself. He decided to come down off the mountain and attend the Maha Kumbh Mela, the great Hindu pilgrimage to the Ganges, which only occurs once every 144 years.

The crowd was so great that the swami was caught in the tide of humanity and swept along as though he had fallen in a river. The noise deafened him, the colors blinded him, the press of people took his breath away, but he was at peace. Until a beggar stepped on his foot and he yelled, “OW, get the #$%*& off my foot, you *%^@_!”

Richard Alpert, better known as Ram Dass, spiritual seeker, teacher, and author of Be Here Now, suffered a stroke in 1997 that nearly killed him and left him barely able to speak. He reports that when the stroke happened and he realized that he was probably dying, his entire lifetime of faith and understanding flew out the window and he became a whimpering coward. What courage it takes to be able to admit something like that.

I think of both those stories often, especially when someone tries to convince me of the rightness of his philosophy. Or when I think I have it all figured out myself.

I used to know stuff, but no more. In fact, in most ways I used to be a better person than I am now. I used to have prescient dreams. I meditated. I played music, painted, and believed things. I read everything and wrote what I wanted. I loved and had passion, and even when I was sad, and afraid, and grief stricken — and I often was — I was basically a cheerful little person.

Now I know nothing, nor do I understand anything. Yet I’m not pessimistic,or optimistic either. It’s more like I am whatever tide or emotion or event is happening in this moment.

And this moment I am very happy for molasses bread.

Shy authors and the promotional game

 Catherine's post on Persistence, and the struggle of introverted authors to toot our own horn, made me smile. How I can relate! It's twenty-five years since my first book came out, but with 21 (soon to be 22 books out), I still have to force myself not only to praise my own work on social media and at parties but also to initiate conversations with (AKA waylay) perfect strangers in mall bookstores and public events. I'm proud of my work. I think I've written some pretty good books, which have even been nominated for awards over the years. But I absolutely suck at saying that. As a psychologist, I was much more adept at listening than talking and much better at letting the other person lead the conversation where they wanted it to go. But no doubt I chose that profession in part because it fit my introverted style.

I've gotten better at this socializing and promoting business over the years and have developed some "patter" I can trot out. In structured situations like doing presentations, interviews, and panels, I am now at ease, but in unstructured conversational settings, it still does not come easily. Yesterday evening I attended the annual Christmas dinner of Capital Crime Writers, a local Ottawa crime writers association founded over thirty-five years ago and still going strong. I was one of the earliest members, one of twelve, none of whom were published (yet) but we wanted to learn the craft and support one another. Over the years members came and went, but the organization grew and many of us went on to successful publishing careers. I remember one of the earliest dinners I attended. I don't recall whether I'd had any short stories out by then, but one of the members had had two works published. They might have been screenplays. The only thing I remember was that I was in awe of her and shy to talk to her. Who was I, after all, to presume to occupy her time! 

Good grief.

My debut baby, Sept 2000

The organization has quite a few published authors now, especially with the recent increase in indie publishing and micro-presses, but at last night's dinner I was one of the longest-published and most recognized authors there. The shoe felt as if it was on the other foot! I wondered if some of the new and aspiring writers would be reluctant to approach me or wait for me to talk first? That turned out not to be the case, but it was a relief not to have to worry about promotion or exposure. I had no pitch to sell, no bookmarks to offer. I could relax and enjoy the dinner and the chance to connect with old friends, commiserate about the book industry, and enjoy the book talk. But I remember that shy little me who didn't know what to say to a real published author and now that I experience it from the other side, I realize it was all in my head.

The glass of wine was nice too.

Persistence

 Catherine Dilts

In the day job from which I recently retired, I outlasted many employees who had much more flash and verve. Merely showing up and doing the work contributed to my longevity at the company.

So far, my writing career seems destined for more of the same. Persistence. Refusing to give up despite obstacles and difficulties. There’s no glitz or glamour involved. Just plain hard work. The path to becoming a published author wasn’t easy.

In the 1985 dark comedy movie Better Off Dead, starring John Cusack, the main character persistently pursues attempting suicide. I saw it years ago, before exposure to real-life tragedy made this theme not funny to me in the least, so this is not a recommendation to watch the movie. The reason I mention it is due to a persistent paperboy that serves as a running gag.

The kid pursues the main character through ridiculous scenarios, demanding he pay the two dollars owed for newspaper delivery. This boy is not going to give up until he receives what is due.

I could never see myself in that paperboy’s role. I struggle with promoting myself as an author. I don’t want to be that annoying person, chasing down strangers at parties or popping up incessantly on social media, demanding attention. Becoming a running gag.

However, if you don’t let people know you wrote a book, you’re robbing them of the opportunity to support your creative endeavor (I realize how silly that sounds). My husband has prodded me out of my shell. He introduces me as his author wife, then suggests I give them my promotional book mark, which they can’t refuse without being rude.

Yes, I am that shy. When I do push myself to mention my work to strangers, I get one of four reactions.

1)     The blank stare. Perhaps a nod and a bland “that’s interesting.” But no reaction encouraging further conversation. Awkward.

2)   The negative Nellie. “I don’t read books that aren’t true.” Yes, someone said that to me, in a snide tone, instead of an apologetic, “I only read non-fiction.” People can be adept at crushing your dream with a facial expression or cutting words. This type of human is inspiration for sweet revenge. My first short story sale was based on fictionally murdering this person.

3)      The I’ve Got A Story To Tell, Too. You mention you’re an author. Two things can happen. Either this opens wide the floodgate to a dissertation on their career or hobby, all shared without taking a single breath, or expressing a shred of curiosity about your writing. A conversation is supposed to have reciprocity, right? Or, the absolute worst happens when they say, “I have a great idea for a book,” which segues into variations on, “You can write my book for me.” Implying you can't possibly have an idea interesting enough upon which to base an entire novel. But they're willing to share their brilliant inspiration.

4)      The enthusiastic fan. This person smiles and asks questions. What type of fiction do you write? They might mention their own favorite author or genre. They patiently listen to your log line or blurb. And they promise to purchase your book or request it at the library. Whether they eventually do or not hardly matters. In this moment, the fan is a shining angel to the struggling author.

Ironically, my experience as an introverted author attempting to toot my own horn has made me a better listener. I feel for people who just need an audience, for whatever brief space of time. Honestly, wouldn’t the world be a better place if we all exhibited a little more conversational patience? Less me me me and more how is your life going?

But back to promotion, in most ways the antithesis of listening.

The rejections don’t bother me. Much. I recall the story told by a famous author during a writing conference (of course I don’t recall who) going into a bookstore and offering to sign copies of their recent release. The shop attendant gleefully brought out a stack of books – by a different author. Oops.

Whether a famous bestseller or their polar opposite, all authors struggle with achieving recognition for their work. The only thing you really have control over is to keep writing. Do what you love. Be persistent.

AWOL

  I’m afraid I haven’t contributed to our Type M for Murder blogs in much too long.  My initial excuse was a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Galapagos Islands.  That alone will be its own blog somewhere down the line.  While I was aboard the National Geographic ship exploring and hiking the volcanic islands with my wife, I was making notes about a locked door murder.  

It’s a delicious location for a fictional homicide. 

Before flying to the Galapagos, we spent a day exploring Quito, Ecuador.  It’s a colorful, beautiful country.  That in itself is worth a story. 

It was on our trip back, on crowded planes out of Ecuador and Miami that something happened. Something snuck up on me.  Arriving in Raleigh, where we spent the night before driving back to the coast of North Carolina where we live, I developed a cough. 

Worried that I might have contracted something exotic, I saw my health care provider the next day.  Tests came back.  I had bronchitis caused by a rhinovirus…a cold. Heck, that shouldn’t be a problem.  I took the medicine prescribed.

But it got worse.

Here’s where I made a mistake.  I didn’t realize it, but it had gotten so bad that I was suffering from hypoxia, a lack of oxygen.  I thought I was getting better.  I didn’t realize how sick I was getting.  By the time I saw my health care provider again, my oxygen level was at 79 percent.  

They called the EMTs and rushed my butt into the ER. When I got there, my heartbeat was irregular, struggling to find oxygen to send to the rest of my body.  They brought in the crash cart.

One of the people working on me in the ER said, “The crash cart must have scared him.  His heart returned to a normal rhythm.”

At least that’s what I thought I heard.  

I spent the next seven hours undergoing tests and being pumped with oxygen.  The diagnosis was double pneumonia.  Then I spent two days in critical care and five more recuperating slowly in the hospital.  

So, I’m home, thirteen pounds lighter and moving slowly.  But I went to my first writing critique group last Monday.  The first in over a month and I’m going to the grocery store and running errands on my own, so…progress.  

I’m re-editing a manuscript that I’d finished before our Galapagos trip.  While in the hospital, I had some time to think about a lot of things, including my mortality.  This has given me a new perspective and I want to use it to make my manuscript better.  

It’s a chance to look at a lot things with fresh eyes. 

Please accept my apologies for being AWOL and I look forward to joining our Type M family again, hopefully on a more regular schedule.  

Black Friday Thoughts

Margaret Mitchell at work

Several years ago, a plot for a short, Black Friday story popped into my head. I don’t write horror or Die Hard type action fiction, but we don’t actually get a say in what ideas coalesce out of the amino acids of the ol’ mind soup. This idea was something like: An innocent bystander witnesses a murder in the parking lot of a mall on Black Friday and spends the next ten or fifteen pages (or 100 if it turned out to be a novella) running from the killer in the mall. In other words, lots of opportunities for me to play up the entire Black Friday madness and mall culture in general. 

I never wrote the story. 

I did write a note on a scrap of paper and stuck it in this old stationery box with all my other (as yet) unwritten story and book ideas. Periodically–okay probably every day-after-Thanksgiving–I remember this story and consider working it up into a first draft. But I don’t. It’s just not my jam. I seriously doubt this is a story I’ll ever create. If you want to try, go for it!

(Maybe someone has written a similar story by now. If you know of one, let me know in the comments. I’d actually like to read it. I just don’t want to write it.) 

Last night, after a lovely Thanksgiving Day, I watched the Netflix Top 10 movie, Buy Now: The Shopping Conspiracy. This documentary was styled as an ironic AI-generated webinar for wannabe corporate executives looking to increase sales at any cost interspersed with interviews of former corporate sales gurus who now advocate changing our growth economy into a sustainable economy. Watch it here: https://www.netflix.com/title/81554996

Obviously, the timing matters. Between Black Friday and Christmas Eve, we are encouraged to buy, buy, BUY! In the movie, we are shown mountains of clothing washing up on third-world shores; plastic found in the guts of ocean fish; giant piles of discarded electronics. We are literally killing ourselves and the planet along with us in our capitalist zeal. Hey, I understand capitalism is the best we’ve come up with so far, but really? Isn’t it time for a new plan?

As I sat there, horrified but not exactly surprised, I started thinking about books. I thought about a recent article published in The Bookseller entitled “New publisher Spines aim to ‘disrupt’ industry by using AI to publish 8,000 books in 2025 alone.” See: https://www.thebookseller.com/news/new-publisher-spines-aims-to-disrupt-industry-by-using-ai-to-publish-8000-books-in-2025-alone

It’s beginning, friends. The AI disruption of our industry. In a market already flooded with books, here comes a tsunami of AI-generated content. Many of these will be ebooks, but plenty will be print, likely POD. I suppose this is better than printing and warehousing and then destroying the copies that fail to sell, but still. I began to wonder about the lifespan of today’s literary “products.” Are these cheaply produced POD books saved, treasured, passed along to younger generations? Or are they consumed and thrown away like last season’s sweatshop garment? 

For years, many indie (self) publishing gurus advocated quickly writing and releasing books to gain market share, surfing the Amazon algorithm to financial “success.” Perhaps the best-known of these strategies, The 20 Books to 50 K method, encourages a “high volume, low price” strategy. Pump out those books as fast as you can in hopes of establishing a backlist and making a living. Fine. Good. It works, or at least, it did. 

But what happens when EVERYONE does it? 

If we think of books as products, like widgets, how valuable are the widgets when everyone’s pumping out widgets? And where are all the widgets going once they are sold? 

Hey, I get it. I’ve published a couple of books. I’d like to publish some more. It would be nice to think I could make a living at this writing thing. Also, I’m not a fast writer. The thought of writing a book in twelve days turns me cold. I admit, I’m predisposed to disdain this mindset. Because I doubt I could do it even if I wanted to. So, yeah, this entire essay might just be a bit self-serving. But hear me out. 

I think it’s worth it for us in the publishing industry to consider sustainability. How much electricity is consumed with our Kindles and ebooks? How many trees are turned into paper? Where do the books end up? In a landfill? Burned? Adding to the carbon load? What happens when AI companies like Spines begin releasing 8,000 titles into the market per year? What happens when 100 similar companies spring into being? 

Will writing and publishing 20, even 40 books work in that market? Is our ambition worth the cost to the planet? What could we writers do to create a manageable, sustainable, and profitable-for-more-with-less market?

I visited Atlanta last week. The Margaret Mitchell museum, housed in the apartment where the author wrote Gone With the Wind, finally reopened after a remodel that started in 2020. Mitchell made a name for herself with ONE book. One. Yes, the book is problematic (and the museum does a good job pointing this out), but we can’t deny that GWTW made a giant splash and continues to be one of the best-selling novels of all time. 

The desk where Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone With the Wind

One book. Could what worked for Mitchell  work for us? What if we all slowed our roll? What if lower supply led to greater demand and prices? 

What if we created readership thirst? 

Maybe we should consider writing fewer books. Maybe we make designer books instead of fast-fashion books. Maybe we leave the silly Black Friday stories in the idea box and instead create books with substance and staying power. 

Just a thought. 

What do you think? As readers? As writers? I’m sure this may have touched some nerves. Let me have it. 

—--

Check out my Substack and sign up for my newsletter. https://shelleyburbank.substack.com/ 

Words of the Year 2024

 by Sybil Johnson

It’s that time of the year again. No, I don’t mean Thanksgiving, though it is tomorrow. I’m busy prepping for that. 

No, I mean the time when the words of the year start rolling in. Here’s what’s going on so far.

• Merriam-Webster, an American dictionary, has been selecting a woty since 2003 when it chose democracy. They choose based on which words were most frequently looked up on their website. No “word” yet on what the 2024 woty is.

• Collins, a British dictionary, has been selecting a woty since 2013 when it chose geek. 

Its 2024 word of the year is brat which is defined as someone who is "characterized by a confident, independent, and hedonistic attitude". This, apparently, is newly defined for 2024 and inspired by the Charli XCX album by that same name.

Don’t know who Charli XCX is, but apparently among the young’uns (at least in the UK) it’s one of the most talked about words for 2024. 

Other words that were finalists: 

delulu, meaning to be "utterly mistaken or unrealistic in one's ideas or expectations" I guess this comes from delusional. 

looksmaxxing, a word commonly used in online male communities that refers to "attempting to maximize the attractiveness of one's physical appearance" 

rawdogging, the growing travel trend where passengers abstain from in-flight entertainment and other travel perks. That means no movies, no music, no snacks, no napping!, no using a phone. So you just stare at the seat in front of you. Yeah, not going to do that. 

yapping, which means talking at length about things that don't really matter that much. I think people have been doing this for a long, long time.

 supermajority, a political term that became popular around the UK general election in July.

• Cambridge, another British dictionary, has been choosing its words of the year since 2015 when they picked austerity. 

The 2024 word of the year is manifest. According to the British dictionary, it refers to the practice of using “methods such as visualization and affirmation to help you imagine achieving something you want, in the belief that doing so will make it more likely to happen,” 

I feel like people have been talking about manifesting things for a very long time, particularly celebrities, including Dua Lipa and Simone Biles this past year. 

Maybe we should all try to manifest a more peaceful, positive world.

• Macquarie, an Australian dictionary, has been choosing a woty since 2006 when it picked muffin top. The 2024 word is enshittification. This was also the American Dialect Society’s word of the year for 2023. Macquarie defines it as “The gradual deterioration of a service or product brought about by a reduction in the quality of service provided, especially of an online platform, and as a consequence of profit-seeking."

•  Oxford, another British dictionary, has been choosing a woty since 2004 when it picked chav, which I have never heard of. According to the dictionary it means “a young person of a type characterized by coarse and brash behavior (with connotations of low social status).” 

Apparently, they haven’t announced the 2024 woty yet, but brain rot is one of the finalists. It’s a supposed decline in a person's mental or intellectual state, often attributed to consuming too much trivial or unchallenging content, especially online.

Among the other finalists are: 

dynamic pricing: Varying the price of a product or service to reflect market conditions. Anyone who goes to Disneyland and other theme parks these days knows this one.

romantasy: A genre of fiction that combines elements of romance and fantasy, often with themes of magic, adventure, or the supernatural. I have heard this used a lot this past year.

slop: Art, writing, or other content created using artificial intelligence, and shared online in an indiscriminate or intrusive way 

Voting closes on November 28th.

• The American Dialect Society has been choosing a woty since 1990 when it chose bushlips, referring to insincere political rhetoric. It comes from President Bush’s speech about reading his lips and no new taxes. The society doesn’t choose its word until January. They are open for nominations.

• dictionary.com has been choosing since 2010 when it picked change. It’s 2024 woty is demure. They analyzed things like news headlines and social media to see what words were trending. Demure, apparently, had a 1200% increase in usage over the last year! Can’t say I’ve used it. According to the article linked above, demure now means “ refined and sophisticated appearance or behavior in various contexts, such as at work or on a plane.”

That’s what’s going on so far. Your challenge is to try using some of these words in a sentence! 

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

On Epilogues

By Charlotte Hinger

 In this blog I've complained about novels that have a beginning, a middle, and a middle. That's it! No end in sight. My husband once said he thought the author simply got tired of writing. It's a common enough phenomenon in literary short stories. 

Such tail-less tales are frequently published in a magazine I'm too cowardly to name. It specializes in absolutely exquisite writing that goes absolutely nowhere. 

Apparently a lot of editors feel the same way. Gotta end the book, they say. So, the writer comes up with an epilogue. 

Epilogues should not be necessary. The strongest books conclude the narrative in the last chapter. Stick to the story you are telling. It's not necessary to know what happened to your characters fifteen years in the future. 

Readers, as well as people in the real world, like to be present at important events. We want to be present at a wedding. One of the best ending chapters I've read lately is contained in Margaret Miszushima's latest book, Gathering Mist. Not only does it tie up a plot complication that has continued throughout her series, it's a terrific finale to this particular book. We are gloriously present at this wonderful wedding. An epilogue statement such as "fifteen years later, they were still happily married . .." would have paled in comparason.

There's a sure test for using a prologue. It should precede the primary narrative. If it could be a scene in the book, don't use a prologue. The same advice applies to an epilogue. If the conclusion could be covered in the last chapter, do that. Conclusions are hard to write. They are nearly as difficult as a first chapter.

Prologues should never jar the reader. I recently read a beautifully written novel that included an epilogue. It ruined the book. The voice used for the ending was different from the one used for the body of the book. It was simple and childlike. Along the lines of "Jack threw the ball." Only these sentences read like "Jim went to prison for a long time." "His wife got a divorce and married someone else." "His children suffered."

The main thing to remember about epilogues is they don't compensate for a weak ending or lazy writing. 

Watching People

 By Steve Pease / Michael Chandos

   Our stories are about people. Not about the setting, the action, or the clues, but about the people living in the setting and involved in the action and creating the clues. About how the story affects them, and forces them to make desperate choices and bad decisions. Makes them consider Murder as a viable solution to their problems. The story is about how the plot, clues, circumstances and twists affect the characters.

    Lee Child said "My books aren't about the detectives working on the crime, but the crime working on the detectives."

   Watch people. Are you waiting in the airport for your connecting flight, hours away? In the grocery store? The clinic? Look at your fellow "waiters". How is their day treating them? Does a romantic rejection twenty years ago still affect them? Has it made them cynical and bitter? What's their financial status? What are the little traits and clues that define who they are, to your mind's eye at least?

   What do their clothes suggest? Look at their shoes. They may be wearing a comfy traveling outfit, be in going-shopping utility clothes, or new and colorful holiday clothes, but their shoes remain. Are they worn, dirty, new, shiny?  Does the shoe style fit the rest of their clothing? Are they from around here?

   What does their behavior suggest? Are they engaging with their surroundings, or are they shielding themselves from it? Why? What are the possibilities? Does that make them look "evil"? Did they catch you staring at them? What was their reaction?

   You will be training your eye to assess people, to identify key indicators of what they do and who they are. Are you nervous about being judgemental? Who cares? This training game is just for you, the writer. Our fictional stories are just fantasies, to quote A. Conan Doyle. It's not important to be accurate to reality. It is important to be consistent to your fictional reality. When a character enters your story, you'll be able to describe one or two things that will immediately convince your reader of who the character is. Be a Sherlock.

   Or not. This is an opportunity to deceive the reader, too, to build suspense with ill-fitting appearances and behaviors.

I stuck this patch on my sling bag.

In Memory

Friday I attended the Celebration of Life for Christine T. Jorgensen (1941-2024). I met Christine during my first Colorado Gold conference in 1994. She was incredibly gracious, poised, and welcoming to a wannabe writer like me. Christine was one of the founders of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and its first president. Over the course of her writing career, she published seven mystery novels.

 

I didn't know her very well and it was both enlightening and inspiring to hear anecdotes of a full life from her husband, children, and friends. An interesting writerly detail was that she had a thirst for cocktails and could hold her own when it came time to partake in the booze. Christine was born September 12, 1941, in Champagne, Illinois. With the start of WW2, her father was called up, serving later in the Philippine campaign, and the family moved to southern California to be closer to him before he shipped out. After college, Christine worked in family and child support services in Chicago and Denver. A voracious reader, she was drawn to writing, initially trying her hand with romance novels until her critique group noted that a romance story does not typically have a murder. Even if it did, seven dead bodies in one book were too many for the genre. With that advice, Christine turned her attention to murder mysteries, eventually penning five in the Stella the Stargazer series, followed by two stand-alones. Any one of us would be lucky to be so fondly remembered.

To read her obituary, click here Christine T. Jorgensen.

Rewrite Time

 I've finally finished the first draft of my new book, and have begun the rewrite. We've all heard many times that writing is rewriting, and anyone who's ever scribbled a page knows it's true. At least I've never met a literary Mozart, whose first draft is so perfect that it doesn't need any alteration. In fact, most authors I know, even very well known and accomplished authors, think of their first drafts as something too embarrassing to be seen by anyone. It's the rewriting that makes the book. If I may repeat something I've written here before – and never let it be said I missed an opportunity to repeat myself – you have to have that block of marble before you can carve out a statue of David.

Rewriting is the fun part, as well. The first draft is eked out of you like bone arrow, but with the rewrites, you have something to play with, to refine, to remodel, to put makeup on and make beautiful. I've begun rereading and adjusting, making sure the beginning matches the end. After the first draft, my beginnings never do match the end, for somewhere in the middle of the writing, I changed my mind about this character, or this action, or this story line. And I didn't waste time by going back to the beginning and fixing it to fit my new vision. No, no, that way lies madness. I can get (and have gotten) caught up in an endless merry-go-round of fixes and never reach the end of a first draft. I just keep going until the MS was done, with every confidence that I can repair all the inconsistencies in the next draft.

As I reread the story, it's interesting to see how it all turned out, to remember what I originally had in mind and see how the tale changed as I moved through it. Questions come up as I put all my ducks in a row. Here is one I always struggle with: how much explanation is too much?

For instance, there is what looks like a coincidence in one scene of the new book. Coincidences do happen in life, but you've got to be very careful about putting one in a mystery story, lest the action seem contrived. And yet, when I set about to explain how this coincidence came about, I didn't like it. Too much exposition and not enough action.

Do others of you writers out there struggle to find a balance between making it real and making it exciting, or romantic, or terrifying, or however you want it to turn out?

I've read and loved many books that elide over illogical plot points. Some best-sellers, too. As long as I like the story and the characters, I don't really demand existential reality in my reading. Yet I don't like holes in the plot big enough to drive a truck through. They take me out of the story. Have I done that, or shall I let my coincidence stand and devil take the hindmost? I'll have to let my pre-readers tell me what they think.

A novel way to connect with readers

 This is a very quick post because I am already late with it and many other things need to be done. But I want to report on a very interesting a successful experiment that a group of local Ottawa authors tried yesterday. 

The first ever Ottawa Christmas Book Fair. It was the brainchild of enterprising Ottawa author Peggy Blair who pitched the idea in September and within a couple of days eight of us had signed on. Besides Peggy, there were Mary Jane Maffini, Brenda Chapman, Mike Martin, Amy Tector, Don Butler and John Delacourt. We rented a hall at a local legion for five hours and developed promotional activities like appearances on local radio and TV, write-ups in community newspapers and newsletters, and posted this poster all over time. With that many people, there were lots of imaginative ideas and useful contacts.

On the day of the event, we set up tables and decorated them in holiday themes. Each of us had our own table  and managed our own sales. We had baked or purchased goodies for a treats table, advertised the cash bar at the legion, and now we settled in to wait. We had no idea what to expect. Would anyone come? It's a work day and already getting dark by 4 pm.

They came! We were flooded with readers who'd come specifically to buy mysteries and each of us was kept on our feet and meeting readers for over three hours straight. I have no idea how many people came although Peggy estimated 150. I have no idea how many books I sold, but readers were leaving with armloads of books. I didn't even have time to eat anything nor visit my fellow authors to check out their books. By the end, we were all exhausted but so relieved and happy that it had gone so well.

Will we do it again? Absolutely. And plans are already underway for other collaborative, mystery-focussed events. So stay tuned.

I Hired a PI - the conclusion

 By Catherine Dilts

My previous post on Type M for Murder (11/5/24) described the events that led to hiring a real-life private investigator. Quick recap – when my father passed, we needed to find his estranged step-son (let’s call him James, to protect his obviously highly treasure privacy), who was included in the will.

June 25 - First contact from me: “Hello Steve, I mentioned to you that my family is trying to locate my deceased father's stepson. I was under the impression the amount of money we were inheriting was not worth hiring someone to track him down. Now my brother says we really need to find James, because the inheritance is too much to stick in a sock drawer in the event the guy resurfaces. My question to you - is it possible to hire you to locate a missing person? What's the process and estimated cost?”

We wouldn’t have required a PI if there hadn’t been paranoia and suspicion on both ends of our search. I was concerned about contacting the wrong people with a “you’ve inherited money” message. James was reluctant about replying to the promise of money if he would confirm his identity.

Steve Pease, aka author Michael Chandos, is also a Type M for Murder contributor. As a licensed private investigator, Steve knows plenty about finding people. But first, the bad news: Steve was retiring from the PI business. Followed by the good news: Steve was willing to take a look.

June 25 - Steve replied, “depending on how much you know about James, birth date, locations of things, any previous contacts, maybe I can find him… Do you have photos, SSAN, former locations?... What do you know about him? Does he know who his father was? Does he want to be found? Things like that….”

James had distanced himself from family, including the one person I hoped knew where he was: his aunt. She hadn’t heard from him in over two years. My brother’s law office paralegal had cobbled together a little info. I gathered what I had learned with my amateur sleuthing. We were thin on data.

After a call to my brother, we realized we knew pathetically little about this guy who was part of our family. I felt guilty I hadn’t made more of an effort to connect with him. But we were adults when our father and James’ mother married. James had been an unruly teen in high school. There just hadn’t been the time, or I suppose the desire, to forge relationships.

June 28 - I couldn’t decipher whether Steve was frustrated or amused when he emailed, “Literally ANYTHING you can remember, from all the basic history, and then any tidbit of content, places, other people that may know him. Circumstances - how did you lose him?” 

As a writer, I love stories. And the contorted family history made for a story I could tell. After wrenching the memories from my reluctant brain, I typed up a page of everything I knew about James, my father and his wife, and the estrangement.

July 1 - “Hi Steve, This might be a little rambling, but I put together what I have. I can try to dig for more info if this isn't helpful. It should be highly entertaining, though.”

July 3 - To which Steve responded, “This is a great model for a Southern Murder Mystery potboiler.”

James’ mother was a Louisiana girl who desperately craved to be a Southern Belle. My father was a Midwestern guy thrilled to attract the attention of a much younger woman. When James came out of the closet, although my father accepted him, his own mother cut him out of her life.

July 12 – Over two weeks into the investigation, Steve attended a PI seminar. He presented our missing step-brother case for a brief group discussion. Steve told me we needed hard data, like James’ Social Security number. I began to worry we’d be unable to locate James.

Steve sounded less optimistic, too. “Maybe James is no longer in Colorado. I did not find him on any prison inmate listings.”

That is how little I knew my step-brother. I had entertained the idea he might be in jail. Or living under a bridge.

July 13 - Steve sent me this. “He either moved or did a serious drop-out.” Again, Steve requested James’ exact birth date and social security number.

Later that same day, James responded to an email from Steve. At the same email address my brother had used to contact him. Coming from Steve Pease of Glass Key Investigations LLC must have convinced James the attempt to contact him was legit.

Steve asked James to provide some details to prove he was actually our James. The info was not in my father’s online obituary. Only family knew this stuff. Yes, this James definitely was the right guy.

After confirming my brother was able to make contact with James, Steve closed our case. He sent us a report on his methodology and the results of the search. James really didn’t want to be found, but now he seems happy to be in contact with his step-siblings, on his own terms.

July 14 - “We are lucky a simple route found him,” Steve reported. “I queried top level county databases and the Colorado Secretary of State's databases, and was about to dig deeper. This email contact was lucky and it eliminates the lengthier inquiry, and it is cheaper.” 

My family is all about cheap. So, a happy ending? A family healed? Sort of. We’ve reached out to James. He knows our email addys. It’s on him if he wants to try to establish relationships at this late date.

If you need to hire a PI to find your own missing relative, here’s what I learned. Life is not a Hallmark movie. The best ending might be simply to acknowledge everyone is alive and not in jail. Another lesson learned – keep track of people. Don’t let them fall off the grid entirely. Otherwise, you might end up paying a PI to dig up info you could have known all along.