Independence Day

original cover

 Tomorrow being the 4th of July has caused me to reflect upon all the many, many U.S. Independence Days I have enjoyed in the past. Like birthdays, most of the 4ths I have lived through blur together now, or are completely lost to memory, but one in particular stands out for me, and that is the Bicentennial.

Talk about a once-in-a-lifetime experience. (I suppose that a person could live through more than one centennial event, but could one remember both of them? That is the question.)

In 1976, I was newly married and living in Lubbock Texas. We went downtown on the day and joined the crowd for the Independence Day Parade. I love parades, anyway, to the extent that I almost always tear up when I hear the drums and first catch sight of the flag corps, and of course this parade was spectacular in that already-spectacular Texas fashion.

Fourth of July, Boynton OK, 1912

Several local businesses were giving away free cake and hotdogs. The crowd around the tables was rather like a monkey riot, what with people grabbing free food hand over fist, and Don ended up with one whole hot dog and one that had been ripped in half. Both were squashed, and just delicious.

This brings to mind other memorable anniversary dates. Many years ago, we returned to the Western Hemisphere on a Polish ocean liner, the Stefan Batory, after several months Europe. We sailed across the Atlantic and right up the Saint Laurence Seaway to Montreal and landed on Canada Day, July 1, for a wonderful welcome home.

Four days from today, on July 7, is the twentieth anniversary of the launch of my first novel, The Old Buzzard Had It Coming. The joy of the occasion was dampened by the fact that my mother, who had been instrumental in the research for the book, had just died a few months earlier. Besides, I was so nervous at my first book launch that I practically had an out-of-body experience. I’ve launched eleven other books since then, and I have to say that thus far it hasn’t gotten a whole lot easier.

By the way, you can read an excerpt from The Old Buzzard Had It Coming here. In fact, one can read excerpts from all my books as https://doniscasey.com

Happy Canada Day, summer's here!

 Happy Canada Day to my fellow Canucks! As Catherine noted yesterday (the actual Canada Day), summer has finally arrived. Up here in Canada, it has come with a vengeance. Wildfires, extraordinary heat waves, wild thunderstorms, and at least in my little corner of paradise in Ontario cottage country, an early and unprecedented invasion of bugs. The bane of cottage summer is not the blackly nor the mosquito, although both are irritating, but the deerfly and its larger, even more voracious cousin, the horsefly. But after this long, cold dark winter, it's a small price to pay for the joys of warmth, sun, swimming, kayaking, and dining on the deck.

A perfect evening

These past six months have been stressful in other ways. There are wars, political chaos, destructive tariffs, threats of annexation, and up in Canada here, an unexpected change of government, bringing with it both excitement and uncertainty. I have been far too glued to the news, starting each day wondering what horrors await. It has not been good for getting anything done, especially writing. But in the past ten days, I turned a page. I am spending most of it up at my cottage and mostly unplugged due to lack of wifi access. No more checking the news and wondering whether World War III has started. It's long, languid days in my Muskoka chair on the dock, reading, writing, swimming, watching the baby loons, ducks, otters, herons and other wildlife play in the lake. Therapy for a worried soul.

No room for my manuscript

I do my best writing in the summer during these unplugged days, sitting in my favourite chair on my dock. I am  working on the first draft of the latest Inspector Green novel, and since I write longhand, I don't get distracted by news and social media, etc. The only drawback to this method is the inability to research on the internet as I write, as Shelley described in her post, but it's a small price to pay for the pleasure. I also find it helps me stay in the story rather than breaking the momentum to look things up. The fact-checking can wait until later. 

Writer at work

Besides writing, I am doing more reading. I have always read a lot of Canadian books, partly to support my fellow Canucks but also because I like finding the hidden gems behind the big American and British blockbusters that take up most of the space in bookstores and media. So far this month I have read Finding Flora by Elinor Florence, where I met a caring and determined young woman braving the challenges of pioneer prairie life, and The Cost of  a Hostage by my friend Iona Whishaw, where I reunited with the warm and likeable cast in post-war rural British Columbia. Both were delightful and compelling. Next up is Home Fires Burn, by my friend Anthony Bidulka. I've enjoyed all Tony's books and expect to be charmed again.

All these books tackle quintessentially Canadian themes and settings. I usually like gritty, hard-edged stories, but after the turmoil of recent months, I am enjoying these gentler tales. 

Apology to Our Readers

 By Charlotte Hinger

 I owe followers of Type M an apology. I was jolted by a comment submitted by one of our most faithful readers. It was in response to Steve Pease's post, Is anyone reading this blog? 

This comment was from Anonymous:

 If you're talking about Type M for Murder, I definitely read it (and almost always enjoy it). Every day (or at least every day it appears). Sometimes I comment. Lately, these comments hardly ever appear, let alone get an answer, so I've no idea if they were received. A recurrent problem is that even the regular poster/contributors often don't blog on their assigned day. I fully understand, though. They're busy, they're tired, they're on vacation, they're ill, they forget.

Maybe the solution would be to have a larger reserve of guest bloggers to cover for these inevitabilities?

 I'm the moderator for Type M For Murder and have fallen down on the job. Here was my apology to Anonymous:

Anonymous--I owe you an apology. I'm moderating this web site and have fallen down on my duties. As a result of your post, I'll be much more conscientious in the future. Some other readers comments are wicked mean and they never get past me. I've been gone a lot and have struggled with some health issues. Nevertheless, that doesn't excuse deserting my post as I always travel with my laptop.

It's true that I have been plagued with a bewildering sequence of medical problems, but honestly, that isn't a legitimate excuse. This blog was begun in 2006 and during that time I imagine we've covered the waterfront in our catalog of illnesses and disabilities. Type M's original blogmaster, Rick Blechta, was my idol. He never missed a post! And often posted every week. Not only was he a wonderful writer, he had a day job, and played in a band. Rick surely had his share of life events during that time, but he never slacked off. 

I'm going to straighten up and get back to doing my best to emulate Rick. The fact is Type M has an impressive number of readers. We've had 3,095,477 views and last month alone 763,248. 

We are read!! We love to hear from you. 

New Directions

Catherine Dilts

It's finally feeling like summer. With the warmer weather, my attitude toward the writing and publishing life is warming up. I feel like I emerged from a cold, dry spell, although I have been writing constantly during this time.

So many authors seem to be going through small press woes. The trials and tribulations of losing small presses are hitting hard. Agents and editors retire. The market is flooded. Competition for the decreasing number of slots with the big publishing houses is stiff.

Along with many other traditionally published authors, I'm exploring self-publishing options. My first experiment is with my co-author and daughter, Merida Bass. We just released book one of a YA science fiction series. Written under the pen name Ann Belice, Frayed Dreams begins the Tapestry Tales series.

Merida's enthusiasm has given me a boost. She's also an artist. The image is of Ando the squirrel monkey perched on top of a Teens For Earth badge. She created the book cover, too. 

I did some research on self-publishing, and learned that many authors are paying large sums to have their work edited, put into the proper publishing formats, given ISBN numbers, having covers created, and on and on. The folks offering this assistance are called hybrid publishers. An article on Reedsy stated that the cost of self-publishing a book can be as much as $10,000. Or more.

There's nothing wrong with this, if you have the money to pay for services, and the understanding that you may not recoup your expenses. But we decided if we're self-pubbing, we're paying for as little as possible. Yes, the learning curve was intimidating. I might not have attempted it if my daughter didn't have the tech savvy and desire to do most of that side of it herself.

I haven't abandoned traditional publishing. I will have exciting news to announce about a short story sale, after I have the signed contract in hand. And I might consider traditional book publishing again.

Honestly though, I'm ready to see what I can do in this new world of publishing. Having complete control over my novels is appealing. With that control, will my access to market or my sales suffer? We'll see. 

I'm optimistic about new directions. 

Never Hurt a Dog

 by Thomas Kies

My wife has one rule for when I write.  I can kill as many people as I want in any gruesome way my imagination can conjure up. 

“Yes,” she said, “but you can never, ever hurt a dog.”

“But, sweetheart, it’s a wonderful way to show how despicable a villain can be.  Remember the first episode of House of Cards, when Kevin Spacey’s character, Frank Underwood, cradled a dog that he found in the middle of street after it was hit by a car?  We thought he’d comfort the poor pooch until help arrived.  But then, just when you least expected it, he snapped the dog’s neck with cold resolve, without an ounce of regret.  We knew right then and there, he was truly a bad guy.”

“That was disturbing,” she responded, closing her eyes as if trying to erase the memory.

Then I said, “And how about the John Wick series of movies?”

“What about it?”

“They all started when John Wick, content to retire from his life as an assassin, goes on a murderous rampage of vengeance when the son of a mobster kills his dog.  Without that, the entire franchise would never have gotten its start.”

She put her hands on her hips and sneered, “You know I’ve never seen one of those movies.  Much too violent. And now that you told me about the dog, those movies are dead to me.”

Why is it such an emotional no-no in fiction?  I think it’s because dogs represent unconditional loyalty and love.  Canines are dependent on humans and offer simple, pure, and predictable relationships. We think of them as both protectors and furballs that we need to protect. 

I’ve read that on a human scale; dogs have an intelligence level to toddlers.  They love to play, and they cuddle, and they have those sad eyes when they’re begging for a treat. Only the worst kind of villain can hurt a dog. 

This subject came up in discussion a few years ago at a mystery conference in Scottsdale, Arizona where Ian Rankin was the keynote speaker. He had never hurt a dog in any of his wonderful books, but there was one instance where a cat was murdered. 

He chuckled and said in his soft Scottish burr, “I never heard the end of it. People were genuinely pissed. You know I’ll never do that again.”

If anyone is in doubt as to the emotions that can be dredged up, I recall crying my eyes out when I read Old Yeller and then, like a true masochist, saw the movie.  They both end the same way.  Absolutely heartbreaking. 

So, in my mysteries, I’ve hacked up people with a samurai sword, buried them in a shallow grave in the woods, drowned victims by chaining them to the prongs of a giant forklift and dropping them into icy water, shot them, blew them up in fiery explosions, and suffocated them. 

My wife laughs that my imagination is such that she sleeps with one eye open.  But because I will always abide by that one rule, we will continue to stay married.  Never hurt a dog.  

By the way, the pup in the picture above is our girl, Annie.  She’s a sucker for tummy rubs. 

The Night I Cried Because The World Was Going To End

I was in elementary school during the height of the Cold War. My dad was in the Army Reserves and worked as a chemist at White Sands Missile Range. He'd bring home pamphlets about how to survive a nuclear attack and the aftermath of radioactive fallout. These pubs reinforced public service announcements I'd seen on TV where anonymous cartoon characters would seek shelter in the event of an "emergency," which we all knew meant Armageddon. Being a young geek interested in the military, I could identify delivery systems in the world's arsenal of nuclear weapons at the time like the Hercules, Honest John, Davy Crockett, Redstone, Thor, Jupiter, Snark, Poseidon, B-47, B-52, British Vulcan (the MacGuffin in 007's Thunderball), French Mirage IV, Soviet Tu-95 Bear. Movies like Fail Safe, On the Beach, Dr. Strangelove weighed heavy on my mind. It didn't help my anxieties to read illustrated books about the horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Did I fear WWIII? Hell, yes.

I was ten years old when I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by a loud siren. I knew that sound. It was the wail of the Civil Defense alarm and meant that atomic annihilation was imminent. Enemy missiles were on the way to destroy us. We were all going to die terrible deaths. I began to sob, gushing tears and snot. Why? Why?

After several frightful minutes, the wail faded and stopped. I waited for my parents to rush through the house and gather us kids, then take the family to a local Civil Defense shelter. I'd seen the yellow and black placards all over town but at the moment couldn't remember where any were. I expected to hear emergency vehicles, loud speakers advising the public what to do. And the commotion of people scrambling to safety. Chaos. Pandemonium.

Nothing. Only silence. What was going on? If there was no nuclear war, why had that siren gone off?

I later discovered that the city had installed the siren on top of the local fire station to summon volunteer firefighters they couldn't reach by phone. Learning this, I became embarrassed by my previous crying jag--the joke was on me--ha, ha. But no one ever explained how was I supposed to tell the difference between an alarm calling for volunteers and one announcing world destruction.

 This visceral fear of nuclear war remains with me. The scariest scene of The Day After occurred during a serene afternoon when the ground started to tremble. In the near distance, smoke erupted from blast doors popping open, then ICBMs emerged atop pillars of fire and smoke to begin their journey to obliterate cities on the the side of the planet. And similar missiles were on the way here. Within a half hour, tens of millions were going to die.

What activated this memory were the recent videos of Israel and Iran volleying missiles back and forth. Smoky arcs from rockets tearing upward across a blue sky. More ominously, swarms of warheads streaking through night clouds like meteors. Missiles launched from the middle of neighborhoods. Other missiles impacting into those same neighborhoods. And as this was happening--against the background shriek of sirens and boom, boom, boom--people were outside, on balconies, bridges, during weddings, cocktail parties, chatting, arms up with cell phones, recording the mayhem like it was a fireworks show. The saving grace to this bizarre spectacle was that the missiles carried high-explosive payloads and not nuclear weapons. This time.

 

Somewhere Between Love & Pain

A "Boonie" Rooster in Guam.

Hello, Shelley here.

As you Type M readers may know, I often complain about technology, social media, AI, and the interwebs in general. But the thing is, sometimes I LOVE Google. 

It’s not that I think all internet is bad. Because sometimes it’s awesome. Truly awesome. 

How the Internet is Awesome

For instance, I’ve been on a tear lately finishing up my novella.

I’m having so much fun with this story, especially one particular scene setting. Coastal Maine town. A beautiful Queen Anne house overlooking the ocean. Night of the Strawberry Moon (June’s full summer moon, around the time of the solstice). In this scene(s) I get to write about a fancy party, preppy coastal grandma types, and NYC publishing types dressed in sharp black fashions. 

This is how it goes: Tap, tap, tap on the keys. Scene playing behind my eyes as I’m writing. Oops, what’s that? I get an image. I want to verify said image, so I click open another tab on the laptop and open a search and type in my topic. 

Voila! 

(Do I skim the AI stuff at the top? Of course. Eyes can’t help it. But I always go to links listed below to verify because we know that AI bots hallucinate.)

I realized today that all these searches are fun and I should probably create some “socials” content to share with my readers. “See, readers, this is what writers do all day. They sit in their comfy pink-flamingo pajamas and look up things like how did the Kennedy family made its money after Prohibition and what exactly IS an Aubusson carpet, anyway?”

Here are some actual topics I’ve looked up the last two days:

Aubusson carpets, specifically do they make pink and blue ones? Sort of, but light browns and pinks might be more realistic. They are French. Good quality. I want some now. Sigh. 

Ceiling medallions. House of Antique Hardware. Egg & Dart style chosen for my scene. Not the fanciest, but sometimes it’s classier to show some restraint. It’s not Downton Abbey after all. 

Peonies, specifically companion planting. I HAVE peonies at my Maine house, but this is a fancy place on the coast that probably hired professional landscapers to pick the right mix of plants. Someone crushed a peony and left a short trail of petals across the lawn. Mentioned in the garden are sea roses, lavender, and fox gloves even though this is not a poison story. 

Kennedys. Did Joseph Kennedy really make money during Prohibition by bootlegging liquor? Probably not. So I mention it as a joke and then call out the truth that it’s just a myth. No need to get Kennedys mad at you when you are small, indie-pressed author. 

Mary Cassatt artwork. My sleuth’s client has a Cassatt hanging in her office. I wanted to know how much one might cost. I want one now. 

Six-over-six windows. I knew this but wanted to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Easy check. 

Florentine glass windows. Specifically, what can you see through them. Not much. Light and blurry movement I think will be okay. 

1920s office door with window. Very cool. I want one now. 

LBD for plump woman. Side character. Needed inspo for a “tiny” but realistic detail. 

Throw Up Emoji. Considered using this in a “text” in my manuscript but then realized it probably wouldn’t translate into formatting so why go there? I sorta want to go there. I might have to look up how to do it when I format this novella. 

If someone is knocked out with a head wound, what should you do? This is where I think the AI/Large Language Models are helpful. You can ask a question in regular language, not search optimized terms or whatever. But you have to go to the links to make sure the thing isn’t hallucinating. Also, I pretty much knew this, but again, wanted to make sure. 

Kodak Camera 1980s. I had one. I wanted to use it in my novella. I couldn’t remember what it was called. 

This is just a sampling. There’s more. Oh boy, there’s more. So here is my moment of gratitude for Google and the internet. I can’t even imagine how I would have written this without these quick references. Maybe I’d have had a set of encyclopedias? Or maybe my story would have been very different. Less exact. Maybe having all this info at our fingertips is changing the way stories are detailed? It might be interesting to look. I seem to recall that Stephen King used a lot of commercial brand names and such even in his early work. 

But what about Agatha Christie? (I just looked to make sure I was spelling her name right!) I think she probably looked up train time tables and things like that, but for setting details maybe she relied more on her powers of recall. 

Am I just getting a lazy brain? Hope you all have a good weekend. It’s my 33rd wedding anniversary today. We’ll be going out to dinner in Guam. Should be fun. 

—

Check out my latest PINK DANDELIONS newsletter with an essay on Romanticizing Your Life, which sounds way more Tik Toky than it is. It’s really some ideas for being in the moment and enjoying even the small, mundane parts of life because they are beautiful, or you can make them beautiful. Anyway, read the essay to get the whole gist. 

Books, Books and More Books!

 by Sybil Johnson

As you might guess, I love books. Always have, always will. I remember looking at a picture book of The Three Little Pigs in kindergarten and wishing I knew what all those markings on the page meant. I knew they were words and letters, but I couldn’t read them. It was very frustrating! (When I went to kindergarten in the 1960s, children learned their letters in kindergarten and learned how to read in first grade. Seems it’s a bit different now.)

My house is filled with books. My whole house is one giant TBR pile. The only rooms that don’t have books in them are the bathrooms. I pick up books when I’m traveling, get free ones at mystery conventions, pick up signed ones here and there, borrow some from friends and haunt libraries and bookstores. I also have a lot of unread books on my Kindle.

I definitely do not suffer from abibliophobia – the fear of running out of reading material.

I really, really need to read more of these books, especially the ebooks since, well, you never know when they might disappear off my Kindle.

I vowed that I wouldn’t buy any more books until I had made more of a dent in my stacks/bookcases... So, what did I do this past weekend? I bought some books at a local bookstore. I figure I’m helping to keep an independent bookstore in business. Yep, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Here are some of the books I’ve read recently that I thought were particularly good.

The Alaskan Blonde by James T. Bartlett. This is a true crime book I picked up at Bouchercon where James kindly signed it for me. It’s well-written, well-researched and well-put together.

Bell, Book and Corpses by T.C. LoTempio. This is part of the Nick & Nora mysteries. Nick is a cat. Nora Charles inherited a sandwich shop from her mother and now runs it in a town in Northern California. She is a former investigative reporter who now writes pieces on crime for a magazine. This is book 7 in a really great series. This one was set around Halloween.I love cozies set around that time of year.

MacDeath by Cindy Brown, book 1 in the Ivy Meadows mysteries. Ivy is an actress in Phoenix and is training to be a PI. I made my way through the first three books in this series. I bought them in eformat ages ago. I am embarrassed at how long ago it was so, yeah, not going to mention it. Really enjoyed all of them. Number 2: The Sound of Murder. Number 3: Oliver Twisted. There are 3 more I don’t have on my Kindle, but I’ve mentally earmarked them to read in the future.

Son of Prophecy: The Rise of Henry Tudor by Nathen Amin. I’ve read a lot about the Tudors, but have to admit I didn’t really know much about Henry VII. I’m not particularly fond of him. I’ve read more about his son, the VIII, you know the one with all the wives. Very interesting read.

What have you been reading lately? Are you making progress on your TBR pile?

 # 

Remember how I wrote a post on creating characters a couple weeks ago? I saw this post on the Kill Zone blog by Elain Viets. Here’s her take on creating characters: https://killzoneblog.com/2025/06/building-character.html

I anyone reading this blog?

    I have sponsored blogs on personal web sites. I've responded regularly to blogs like Quora. The web page stats usually said dozens of people were subscribed, but almost no one ever left a question or a comment.

    This blog could be very useful to readers, fans and beginning writers. The bloggers here have wide experience, as writers, as readers themselves and as human beings with amazing life experiences. We are a willing resource, a tappable resource. Why don't we regularly see questions and comments on our Posts?  Are we not writing about what you are interested in? Have you ever said anything in a comment?  

    I respond to questions. They are mental spark plugs for me. I blog only once every other Sunday. Even so, dreaming up a topic can be seriously hard sometimes. Your head is involved in a project, your house and family, or society's bad manners, and your head is absorbed in that life trivia. I welcome questions!

    First, it means you read my stuff. Writers like that. Did you understand my point? Was my logic faulty? Are my assumptions and prejudices showing?  Let's discuss.

    Second, I like to talk writing, mystery and SF, but anything is fair game. I have some interesting (I think) life background and I use it in my writing. We can talk about where my ideas came from. Are you trying to write, but having trouble gaining momentum? We've been there. We've struggled with trying to submit and sell our stories. We've had to find markets, struggled with learning How To Submit. We didn't know our options, until other writers, in message groups, newsletters and blogs like this, mentioned something that made all the difference. Writers should be tapping into the authors here.

    Writers almost always want to hear from people who read their stories. Almost, allowing for the occasional troll. I was surprised by a reader in England who was fascinated by a secondary character in a one-off mystery story that was published there. I knew the character was a good one, with lots of life experience, but that written story was about the main character. It was intended as a single story, but now I'm working on a sequel centered on that secondary character, and two other story ideas have popped up, to be written later.  All because a reader saw something in a character and mentioned it to me. I'm glad she did. I like that character and her story is turning out to be quite interesting.

Parents

 Dad and Mom and Me

Donis here. May and June always put me in mind of my parents, both of whom are gone now. Both Fathers' Day and Memorial Day bring my father to mind. He was 19 years old in 1942, a gung-ho small town boy from Boynton, Oklahoma, who enlisted as a Marine after Pearl Harbor. He was an anti-aircraft gunner, present at some of the more infamous battles of the Pacific – Saipan, Tinian, the Marianas. He never talked about it much, but my sibs and I all played with his kit as children and learned the Marine hymn as soon as we could form words and carry a tune. He was a great, fun, hands-on dad, who died too early at age 44, when I was 19 and my youngest sibling was 18 months old.

Then of course, there's Mother's Day. I'm like many people in that my mother drove me crazy but I loved her to distraction. She was widowed at 39 and raised her younger kids all by herself. She's the source of many of the tales I use in my books. Her help with my first Alafair Tucker novel, The Old Buzzard Had it Coming, was invaluable and I dedicated the book to her. She did read the book in manuscript, but she died a few month before it came out, which really took the shine off.

My parents were very young when I came along, and I believe that I was something of a practice child for them. But they seemed to enjoy themselves with me and decided to carry on (you're welcome, siblings). As the years went by and the family grew, they both became expert child wranglers, especially my mother. Her attitude toward her little kids informs the character of Alafair, who is the mother of ten children. It's a good thing I had such an example to draw on when I wrote my Alafair books, because I have no children of my own.

However, here is an experience to which all can relate. Once upon a time, while in a grocery store, I saw a woman being terrorized by her small child. "Johnny," she kept pleading, "don't do that. Don't touch that. Be quiet." And did little Johnny listen to his mother? He did not. My thought on observing this pitiful scene was this – my mother would have jerked my arm out of its socket if I had behaved like that in public.

It used to be that people learned to parent by observing their own parents and grandparents and practising on their many younger siblings, nieces, and nephews. By the time a person grew up, he or she was already a skilled child caregiver. It's not as easy for young parents any more. People don't grow up in big family groups like they did in Alafair's day. As for me, I have younger siblings and observed expert parenting first hand. I was also an elementary school teacher for while, which enlightened me, as well.

It's true, though, that it's easier for me to romanticize parenting, having never had to do it day in and day out – forever. (I was going to say 'for eighteen years', but even I know better than that.) Someone asked C.S.Lewis how he could write so well for children, not having any himself. "I was a child, once," he replied. So was I. I have also witnessed first hand some pretty skilled parenting in my day.

A Sure Cure for Burnout

by Catherine Dilts

What do you do when you realize your creative energy is fizzling, not sizzling? Road Trip!

My husband snagged tickets to the Antiques Roadshow. We watch the show regularly. In true Roadshow style, the program is filmed in different locations each episode. We missed out on one closer to home. The only solution was to take a road trip to Salt Lake City.

Worth a little more than the frame, our beautiful deer painting didn't make the cut to appear on the show.

I was reluctant about being pulled away from work. When you're self-employed, you have the worst boss possible: yourself. But it turned out to be the perfect time to take a break. The date snuck up on us, as if we didn't have multiple calendars and reminders. Boom! Suddenly we were throwing clothes into suitcases and leaving town.

The Antiques Roadshow venue was the Red Butte Garden & Arboretum, which is worth a trip all by itself. Early June, the roses were still in bloom.

I was amazed at how well the appraising was organized. Each attendee is allowed to bring two items. First, we were sent to a “triage” tent, where we were told which items needed to go to which appraiser tent. Then we went to the appropriate tents to have a professional evaluate our treasures.

My great-grandfather’s journal would have been worth more if the bank robbery he described had been famous. My grandfather’s Great War book was too specific to the soldiers from one county in South Dakota. Both were candidates for donation to an historical society, but they’ll stay in the family as long as my offspring have an interest in family history.

My husband dragged our giant abstract deer original art all the way to Utah, only to learn it’s not worth much more than the frame it’s in. And another signed pen and ink print by a famous artist wasn’t worth as much as his more popular paintings.

It’s a good thing we went because we’re fans of the show, and not in expectation of learning we had items of great value. We had a blast being behind the scenes. We lingered around backstage to watch people being selected for the televised spots. We’ll be watching next year to see if we recognize people and treasures we saw filmed.

It turned into a whirlwind trip, with the addition of a visit to the Utah Museum of Natural History. The next day, we drove to Goblin Valley for a short hike. Our final stop was Arches National Park. We hiked two different trails, for a total of about eight miles.

Before heading out on our brief trip, I was struggling with a case of burnout. Seeing new scenery, meeting interesting people, getting into the great outdoors, and breaking routine all conspired to hit my reset button. The wiring in your brain seems to need a hard shutdown on occasion. Flip off the switches, wait a few beats, then turn on the juice again.

During the trip, a novel, or possibly a trilogy, idea that has been nagging at me for a while finally solidified. I also hit upon a short story idea. Both are in the beginning development phases. Upon our return to town, I felt more clear about the projects that need immediate attention. 

A.I.--the Digital Poltergeist

 by Thomas Kies

Last week Artificial Intelligence snuck like a digital poltergeist into our writing critique group. 

About eight of us have been meeting every Tuesday for months and I’ve enjoyed it tremendously.  The group helped me finish my last manuscript.

Most of the participants are former students of mine and their writing skills continue to grow.  Many of them are working on novels of their own and every week I look forward to hearing the next chapter of their book. They work hard on their craft and take it seriously.

Recently, we accepted a new member to our group. For the sake of propriety, let’s call her Mary.  She’s retired, pleasant, and she self-published a novel a few years ago.  It is a harrowing tale about a young girl who is abused and shuttled from one foster family to another. Mary was interested in joining our group because she wanted to rewrite her novel.  She felt it needed to be “fleshed out”, details added and include more scene and character descriptions.  

All in all, she wants to make it a better book.  We enthusiastically welcomed her into our group.

Last week, she read a chapter from her book that had been reworked.  We were all impressed with the level of detail and descriptions that she used, and we told her so.

That’s when she dropped the bomb.  She was using something called Claude AI.  I looked it up and it does much the same as the other A.I. platforms, including “write, edit, and create content”.

Many in the group, including me, were incensed.  I inherently despise A.I.  We work hard at our craft.  We feel that letting A.I. do our writing is not writing at all, but cheating. 

We had a few dissenters and an interesting debate ensued. One of our members said, “She’s planning to self-publish again.  She’s enjoying herself. What’s the harm?”

Another argued, “What’s the difference between using A.I. in writing and using CGI in movies? Do you use Spellcheck or the Thesaurus on your computer? Isn’t this just an extension of that?”

Mary worried that we were going to kick her out of the group, which none of wanted to do.

But it leads me to a conundrum.   Knowing that Mary is using A.I., and that platform is essentially “stealing” word combinations and phrases from other published writers, including myself, how is this different from plagiarism?

And how do we offer criticism and support knowing what Mary is reading isn’t completely her own work?  

My contention is if you’re going to let A.I. do your writing, what’s the point of doing it at all?

Since this came up, I’ve read a lot of arguments, both for and against the use of A.I. in creative writing.  Some argue that it is no different than using Autocorrect or Grammerly, or for that matter, a pen or pencil. 

Others argue that it is, indeed, plagiarizing other writers since what A.I. is giving the user isn’t something new and creative, but something that someone else has already written.  

I know that moving forward, I’m afraid that I won’t be much help to Mary. I am concerned that as A.I. moves further into our daily lives, how that will affect the creative process.  I know some argue it makes it better.  

I liken it a little bit to a handheld calculator.  Since their widespread availability, my math skills have gone straight to hell because I don’t use them anymore.  I rely on that tiny machine.  

Will that happen to creativity?  Will we become so lazy and reliant upon computer chips, that the human soul that is inherent in good writing is subsumed by artificial intelligence?

Or am I being a pain in the ass and should let it go, as someone argued, “She’s enjoying herself. What’s the harm?”

Get Your Focus On

Life is distracting.

There are the two-hundred television streaming options.

There are the 51 million YouTube channels. (not hyperbole. I looked it up!)

There are also 75-thousand Substack newsletters.

Emails. Text messages. Social media doomscrolling you perhaps engage in at two in the morning when your cortisol levels don’t let you sleep.

How can we gather all this chatter, rustle it into a pen, and keep the restless herd/horde contained while we focus on our daily goals?

Focus is not the same thing as concentration. Focus is deciding where to put your attention. Concentration is more difficult because it requires sustained focus. All of us have trouble focusing sometimes. For some, this is more clinical. For others, it’s less clinical and more habit. In our hyper-online world, we are becoming more distracted. There’s just so much to absorb.

It’s NOT our fault!

Okay, well, it might not be our fault in that we didn’t create these algorithms and the tech saturated world we are forced to navigate, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to take responsibility and work on reclaiming our focus.

We can do this. But how? Here are some ideas off the top of my head.

• Go offline more hours every day. This means turning off your phone or putting it in the other room. If you are working on your computer, only open the files on which you are working. If you MUST look up something online, do it quickly and shut the tab down, and whatever you do, do not follow a link trail.

• Only watch TV or YouTube for a specific number of minutes per day and only at certain times during the day/evening. You decide. Stick to it.

• Create a to-do list, not too many items, and check items off as you finish them. So satisfying!

• Meditate. Meditation trains your brain to focus by allowing you to practice pulling your attention back to your mantra or breathing or guide’s voice or sound (chimes, anyone?)

• Review your goals often. Reviewing goals leads to motivation, and motivation leads to focus.

• Reward yourself. Did you choose to deep clean the noxious refrigerator instead of binge-watching a favorite streamer? Did you log into Novlr and meet or surpass your word goal for the day? Reward yourself. I’m not talking ice-cream or chocolate (though these are fabulous and delicious!) so much as giving yourself a mental pat on the back. Sit back and experience the feeling of accomplishment. Tomorrow, remember how good this felt when you have to make that choice again.

• Self-talk. Tell yourself you care more about completing your task and give yourself all the reasons WHY. Why is this task important to you? What’s at stake?

• Make it a habit. Whatever it is you are working on, make it a habit. Habits create less resistance. It’s the difference between zig-zagging around potholes in a back road that hasn’t been maintained for five years and skimming along a smooth highway upgraded with Build Back Better funding. It can be hard to build a habit but well worth it.

• You’ll get stronger with practice.

I’m one who finds it easy to procrastinate & find a million other little things to do than write, but because I have a pretty strong “why” when it comes to my writing, I want to change that. I’m working on building my focus at the same time I’m working to build my muscles. If I want to increase my muscle mass, I need to bring focus to my workout and make working out a priority. If I want to build my book list, I need to bring focus to my work in progress, sitting my butt down at my desk and getting my fingers tap-tapping on the keys.

Sunday, I wrote 4,000 words. Yesterday, 2,000. Today, I’ve got 600 so far. It’s a little harder today. I took some time out to write this blog post.

Darn. I lost focus.

_____

This essay was first published on my online writing journal Shelley's Journal, on June 10. Click the link to see it there and read others like it. I don't always repub, but this one I thought would be interesting to my fellow writers and to everyone, writers and readers alike, who feel distracted and unfocused. Hang in there. We're all struggling. We can DO this! SRB

Creating Characters

 by Sybil Johnson

Creating characters for stories is both fun and challenging. I worry sometimes that the ones I’ve created are too much alike, that readers won’t be able to distinguish between them. Or find them boring or unbelievable or...

I’m always thinking about different ways to create characters that will produce different personalities. These 2 books have been helpful to me: Getting Into Character by Brandilyn Collins and Creating Characters by Dwight V. Swain. They’ve both been around awhile. I still find them helpful. They are definitely worth reading.

 

In my books, I have a theme for each story. In my latest, Brush Up On Murder, love is the theme since it’s set around Valentine’s Day. I created characters who show love in different ways. The love might be for a parent, child, friend, a romantic partner, the world in general. How far would they go for that loved one? How do they express this love? I hope by doing this the characters are different enough and they make the story interesting. I also do mini bios when I have a feel for the character to delve more deeply into their personality. For my short stories, I do mini bios.

I’ve been thinking about other methods for creating characters. Here are a couple: 

Using characteristics of animals: I’ve often heard people describing others as being like an animal. He’s a dog, she’s a cat... I think that would be interesting to use to create characters. 

Me? I’m a cat for sure. I consider myself to be independent. I don’t mind spending time alone. I can entertain myself. I do like to socialize, though, just not a huge amount. I’m an observer. Our cats, when we had them, did a lot of looking out windows, observing the world. Okay, they were probably looking for birds or squirrels, but they were still observing. I’m generally easygoing, but I do have my limits. I remember our vet describing cats as animals that will let you do things for a bit but, once their limit is hit, the hissing starts and the claws come out. That pretty much describes me.

Using astrology: I don’t mean you need to figure out when a character was born and cast their horoscope. Though, hey, if that’s what you want to do, go for it. I mean reading an astrology book that describes the personality characteristics of different signs and using them to create characters. You get some opposing signs involved, you’ll probably have conflict.

I’ve not used either approach yet, but I keep on thinking they would be interesting.

For the writers out there, how do you go about creating characters? What is your process?

Sorting the Sites

 by Charlotte Hinger

Barbara Fradkin a long time of Type M' recently shared all of her frustrations with social media in a post entitled Social Media Self Destructionn. She captured my feelings so accurately that I can't help drawing attention to all that she said. Right now I'm sorting through a number of sites to decide which ones I want to continue and which I should abandon. 

My feelings about all the sites go back and forth. For some time now, I've turned away from Facebook because I'm tired of all the ads and promotions. Also, I'm acutely aware of the all the danger involved with constant internet activity. I don't like the idea of marketing companies combing these sites for data. 

I've never exactly set the world on fire when it comes to social media usage. I now actively dislike some of the sites I previously used. I liked the concept behind Twitter. But because I am still grief-stricken over some the cuts Elon Musk made to government programs, I cancelled my account when he bought Twitter and renamed it "X". 

As to Instagram, I honor the requests of family members who don't want their pictures plastered all over the internet. In fact one granddaughter has specifically asked that her child's face not appear on Facebook or anywhere else.

 I'm not a great photographer. In fact, I'm usually late when it come to taking pictures. No one oohs and ahhs over my photographs. That said, I'm extremely grateful for the camera function built into my iPhone. Coupled with editing software, most of my photos at least provide a record of moments I would like preserved. Nevertheless, there is little point in my continuing with Instagram. 

I'm on LinkedIn and appreciate the connections it provides. I love reading all the business news and the career opportunities posted. I love it when a friend has a new book coming out or has received a promotion. 

As an example of sites I find frustrating, this morning I tried to find out what had become of a daily podcast I enjoy. Some of the links were vicious diatribes about this recording. There is no excuse for this violent rhetoric and the filthy language used to refer to it. The offending site? One that contains the Morning Office recording of a daily rituals used by Episcopalians world side. I can assure you, there's nothing there that would justify this profane commentary. 

I adore YouTube. I don't know how I managed without it. As a life-long knitter and seamstress, I'm crazy about all the videos and demonstrations. I look up everything: how to fix my garage door opener, how to hem jeans using the original hem, how to MIR and MIL in knitting. I wish I had kept track of all the ways this site has rescued me. 

As to Facebook--it stays. The truth is, I miss it. I especially miss hearing about all my friends in Hoxie, Kansas. 

Now that I've pared down my list, I'm going to visit them regularly. It helped to go through this soul-searching analysis. The next step will be to become a faithful visitor of the sites that made the cut. 

Have you ever been to a murder?

   Type M For Murder, right? So let's talk about one, a real life experience that looked like a murder but that turned out to be a natural death. A DFO as they term it. Done Fell Over.

   This is a true story. 

   I was in a ride-along with an El Paso County Sheriff. I was taking the Sheriff's Citizens' Academy. We had presentations from K9, patrol, detectives, the jail, civil affairs, the 911 Center etc. And ride-alongs with an on-duty Deputy. If you are writing a story involving crime, the Police will be involved to some level. You can only benefit from learning, relatively painlessly, from your local PD or SD (police or sheriff's departments) over four to eight sessions. We shot electronic guns on the tactical simulator, very stressing. K9 was Very Impressive. You do not want to run from these dogs. All voting adults should take these courses.  I've been to CAs at five different organizations. 

   I met my Deputy at the substation and sat in the right seat as we patrolled his assigned area. We stopped a few people for burned out taillights and stoplights. It was also a way to casually find people with open warrants. People with warrants, often from missing court dates or parole officer appointments, might not be interested in their brake light bulbs. When the cops stop you for a traffic offense, they are checking you for open warrants.

   We met a sedan with four Japanese men in their sedan, totally lost, with no English skills. We got them back on the highway, north to Denver.

   Then we got a call to go to a residence. A neighbor reported the front door to a house was wide open. It was October, 6 pm, and there was snow on the ground. Doors should be closed. The split-level house was on a dead-end circle. The door was open, lights on upstairs and in the rear of the main floor. There was an old truck in the driveway. It still had snow on the hood, and there were no tire tracks in the snow. Obviously, it had not moved tonight. There were recent tire tracks in the snow on the other half of the driveway, barely up the driveway, shoe prints in the snow. I think a taxi or another car dropped someone off, or a visitor could have parked and the passenger got out. There were no return footprints.

   No one responded to shouts from the open door. A small dog was leashed in the kitchen next to a water bowl and an overflowing bowl of kibbles. The officer drew his weapon and flashlight and began to search the house, all relayed to his Sergeant via radio. The lower floor was dark. A room up was lit, so we went up. I stayed back.

   A large, overweight man lay crumpled halfway down the hallway, partially in the doorway to what looked like his TV room. His right arm was stretched into the room. In the middle of the floor was a 9mm Beretta pistol. TV and lamp next to the couch were on. No blood apparent, but the solid way he was lying on the floor may have trapped the bleeding from a chest wound. The Deputy tried to find a pulse. Nothing. He called it in and suggested it might be the end result of a gunfight or a suicide.

   In short, a detective and the coroner showed up. No wounds on the body. Many pills in the kitchen. The big man was unwell. We discovered he had been drinking, against Doctor's orders, and was driven home by a friend. We think he made a decision to end his life. He left the dog ample food and water, left the door open, but the dog was leashed. While he was preparing, his anxiety triggered heart failure and he died very quickly. DFO solved.

   I recommend a ride-along. Very educational. The details back up my Criminal Justice investigative classes with real experience. And the details work their way into my stories.