It's a Miracle

 Donis here. I've just started a three month gig as Writer in Residence at the Glendale, AZ, Public Library, and the work on my latest manuscript has suffered a bit as I try to get things started and keep everything in order. This very day (Thursday Sept. 12), I'll be teaching a class on world building, and since I haven't done an in-person class since the pandemic, I've been spending the last week or so polishing up my presentation skills.

I'm getting to the end of my first MS draft, and am very anxious to finish. But there are only so many hours in the day. How, oh how, am I going to get everything done in good order and have it all look like something?

In the movie Shakespeare in Love, whenever things look absolutely hopeless, the theater owner, played by Geoffrey Rush, tells a concerned investor that "everything will turn out all right."

"But how?" asks the worried investor?

"I have no idea," replies the theater owner. "It just always does. It's a miracle."

This is the way writing is for me, at least up to a point. I don't outline the story before I begin. Usually start out with a juicy idea for a murder. For a couple of days thereafter, I ponder on what interesting and unlikely person may have committed this murder. Then I think about the setting and which characters will be involved. I so some research on what was happening in that place at that time, which usually gives me some really interesting story elements.

Then I sit down at the computer and go, go, go, from the beginning to the end. I never end up where I thought I would. I never go in the direction I planned. The story goes where it will and the characters behave however they darn well please. I have been known to be reading on the screen the words my flying fingers are typing and exclaim, "Holy crap!", because I had no idea that was going to happen before it did. Sometimes I get lost and am unable to figure out where I'm going or how I got there. Often I get horribly stuck. But I keep typing, even if I'm spending days typing nothing but drivel, because suddenly I realize that the drivel has given way to deathless prose, and I pound my forehead on the desk, because I don't have a clue how I did it. Then one day I come to the end, and lo and behold, I have a book. I put it away for a few days because at this point I've completely lost any objectivity about the thing whatsoever.

Then, I take it out and look at it with fresh eyes and say, "damn, this isn't bad!" Once again, everything turned out all right. I have no idea how. It just always does. It's a miracle.

The shifting season

 Labour Day weekend has been an annual turning point all my life. First as a child, when I had to give up carefree summer play, either on the city streets or at the cottage we rented. The rigours (and boredom) of school beckoned. Then later as a university student. It seems I spent endless years at university at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. Ten years, to be exact. After I finally entered gainful employment, it was as a consulting psychologist to a school board. Although we worked part of the summer, without the demands of schools, parents, students, and staff, the pace was relaxed. On the Tuesday morning after Labour Day, however, we hit the ground running, and ran non-stop until the end of June.

I've been retired from "gainful employment" for some time now, so the months of the year, and indeed the days of the week, don't matter much, but I still find myself gearing up to start anew in early September. Mentally brushing off the pleasant languor  that settles in the summer as I spend most of it at my lakeside cottage. I read, I kayak, swim, and paddleboard; I enjoy friends and family; I sit on the dock to watch the sunset and listen to the loons; and I soak up the sun (although to call this summer's weather unpredictable is charitable). But once the calendar flips to September, I find myself mentally squaring my shoulders and saying "Right. Now what's next?" 

I can't spend the autumn in idle self-indulgence. My next book isn't due out until January 2025, and there's almost nothing for me to do about it for several months. I can slowly start thinking about book launches, signings and readings, and wondering what conferences, if any, I should register for. But nothing is urgent yet and I feel a need to do something new. January 2025 will mark twenty-five years since I published my first Inspector Green novel. In that time, I've published twenty-two books.  For twenty-five years I've been talking to book clubs, sitting in mall bookstores, and networking with librarians and booksellers. Beloved bookstores have closed, librarians have retired or changed jobs, reviewers have been axed, and many of my contacts have changed so many times I can't keep track. Sometimes it feels futile. Gone is that feeling of being thrilled to sell fifteen books at a store signing, that feeling that I'm on my way to fame and fortune. 

If I sound cynical, I'm not. Just wiser. I do love meeting readers and fellow book lovers. I love book clubs. I have an enthusiastic readership and I get respectable reviews. I've won awards and been nominated for even more. My publisher has been supportive since the beginning. But I am a mid-list author. I'm always happy when a new reader finds me, but I'm realistic that I have a comfortable place, not on the front table of the bookstore, but in the mystery shelves at the back. In respectable numbers, but not screaming for attention. I will do the launches and signings and social media blitzes when the time comes, but right now, with the arrival of September, I am saying "Now what?" 

I have an idea, but won't mention it until I've started to explore it a bit more. Meanwhile, within the next month or so, the review galleys for Shipwrecked Souls will be available for those interested, and probably pre-orders as well. So stay tuned.

Preparation

by Catherine Dilts 

Gardening and fiction writing both begin with a dream. In writing, it’s the spark of a story idea. In gardening, the dream is often born in the depths of winter, with a yearning for warm days and neat rows of green things. For either of these dreams to come true, you have to prepare.

What might sound surprising is that the preparation phase in gardening is not about seeds and plants. Not quite yet. Before ever putting a shovel in the ground, you plot out a garden. Measure your gardening space. How much room do you have? How many plants can you grow in that space? What variety will produce the number of tomatoes you hope to harvest? Will you really pick and use cilantro or dill? A certain amount of planning is prudent.

Fiction writing requires preparation, too. Writers have likely heard of the Panster versus Plotter techniques. Pantsers start on page one and just write, letting the story flow under its own steam. Plotters outline their story, like a driver marking their route to a destination on a map.

I have learned through trial and error that I need to outline heavily. Otherwise, I write myself into a corner. I spend hours returning to the beginning of the story to install the clues and red herrings needed in a good mystery. Outlining helps me avoid that.

Most writers aren’t 100% a Pantser or Plotter. Every Pantser I’ve talked to does have, at bare minimum, an idea of where the story is going. And although I tediously outline my stories from beginning to end, they frequently diverge from that carefully crafted path, taking a surprising and unplanned route.

Preparation to plant a garden or write a story can be agonizing for me. But tossing a handful of random seeds onto the ground will be unlikely to produce the vegetables I want. Likewise, throwing words onto my computer in any kind of order usually results in an unreadable mess.

Once the preparation is complete, and I have a map for the garden or the story, the next part of the work starts. Now the real fun begins.

(Note on photo: With preparation, I was able to start a second crop of lettuce in late August after harvesting zucchini.)

Farewell Mystery Magazine

 by Sybil Johnson

I've been writing a fair number of short stories recently so I've once again become aware of what markets I can submit them to. A lot of the places that have either published my work or that I've submitted to before have since folded. Among them are Spinetingler Magazine and Mysterical-E. Though I've seen nothing that officially says the latter is gone, the last issue was in 2022 so I'm assuming the market is dead

The latest casualty is Mystery Magazine, formerly Mystery Weekly, a Canadian publication that was available in both print and e-formats.

I was just thinking I'd submit something to them since they have a good reputation. Unfortunately, I won't get that opportunity.

According to their website: “Due to the subscription challenges we've faced following the closure of Kindle Newsstand, Mystery Magazine will cease publication with September 2024 being our final issue.” You can read the rest of the announcement here.

This makes me very sad. There seem to be fewer and fewer avenues for short mystery fiction that actually pay. Mystery Magazine was one of them. There’s AQMM and EQMM, of course, but they are harder to get published in. Still, I submit to them just in case they find something I’ve written interesting enough to want to publish it.

Anthologies exist as well. I’ve submitted to some of those, but haven’t had any luck until recently. My story, “Fatal Return”, will be in the Sisters in Crime/Los Angeles anthology, Angel City Beat, which should be out at the end of the year.

I really enjoyed reading the stories in Mystery Magazine. Lots of good stuff in there.

Farewell, Mystery Magazine. You will be missed.

When Writers Don't Have a Clue

 by Charlotte Hinger

I was intrigued with Thomas's discussion of viewpoints. My Lottie Albright delves into old murders which causes new murders. It's not really a cold case series, as it focuses on the present day murder. Thus it technically morphs into a suspense. Will my historian/undersheriff figure out who did it back then in time to prevent becoming the victim on the next page?

In some ways, a straight cold case would be easier to present because the Lottie Albright series is told in present day first person. I can't use flashbacks and have to depend on the back story emerging through historical investigation techniques.

My most dependable tool has always been microfilmed newspapers. The Kansas State Historical Society was founded in 1875. They have one of the world's most comprehensive collection of newspapers. All the papers are on microfilm and many are on-line through Chronicling America http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/newspapers/#Kansas. Instructions for obtaining microfilmed Kansas papers can be found at http://www.kshs.org/p/newspapers-in-kansas/11528.

Since Lottie doesn't have access to the villain's mind the plot depends on her ability to connect the dots. Nothing is more valuable in both academic investigation and mystery plotting than knowing something is just not quite right. In other words, reading between the lines. Because usually newspaper items are objective.

Here's an example of what I mean by not quite right. An announcement in the 1950s local news item: "Lonnie Balfour and family will be moving to the Balfour homestead later this month. He will take over the extensive farming operation of his late father." Lottie thinks that's funny. Lonnie was a CPA and the second son. The oldest son, Jeff, was the obvious heir. He was a farmer. Was there tension over this? This leads her to the recorded deed and even more newspapers and death certificates. Aha! Lonnie died in a mysterious accident. His descendants are alive today. And so it goes. Diaries, letters, voting records, notes from organizations, and yearbooks have their own testimony.

Was one child consistently on the honor role and in every activity under the sun? And another in the same family barely mentioned in the high school newspaper or not a participate in any groups according to the yearbook? Why? With persistence, it easy to find this out.

It's easy to really keep the plot hopping through the protagonist's questions as long as the writer resists the temptation to inject a massive dose of history and cultural details. For instance, old newspapers show group pictures of students at events. The debate team is especially well-groomed, except for one member. Why was there no one looking out for this kid? Had his parents ever come to one of his debates?\

This series is written in first person. My historical novels are always limited omnicience and shifting third person. In a future post I'll try to explain all the pitfalls of limited omnicience and why I just jump right in anyway.

Being able to enter the mind of the first person protagonist is quite a lot of fun, because one can make this amazing sleuth really smart, not at all like the bumbling novelist who hasn't got a clue.