It Won't Work

 by Charlotte Hinger

Once in while someone comes to me (usually after a signing) saying they have the most wonderful story. They know I will just love it. They have a proposal for me. Because they are lots smarter then me. I will be oh so grateful. They will give me their idea. (For free, yet.) Then I can write the story and we will split the money.

At that point I usually have a brainstorm. Why don't I give them an idea and they can do the work and we'll split the money.

Even if the idea is terrific, to write a book requires an emotional connection. Your idea will rarely stir another writer to actually sit down and produce some work. There are obvious contradictions to this, of course. Some work very effectively as collaborative writers. And one of the greatest husband and wife teams I know are Michael and Kathy Gear. But that is an entirely different process.

A book is a difficult undertaking under the best of circumstances. It requires a tremendous investment of time and energy. The idea you have will be best written by you, because of the fire in your heart. The most common reason people don't proceed is they don't think they can. "I'm not a writer," they protest. "Really. I wouldn't know where to start."

Do you think we Type M'ers know where to start, just because we are published authors? Actually, no. You would think, after all these years. . . but no! I have always believed that there are wonderful writers out there who will never experience the joy of seeing their work published because they could not stand to bat their way through the fog. Because when writing doesn't come easily, they think they have no "natural" talent.

There have been several posts about ideas on Type M over the years. I've never understood where ideas come from. I'm the happiest when I've made some progress on a book and instead of being bombarded by ideas for books, stories, sewing projects, computer workarounds, because my mind switches to plot problems and stays there. Plotting might be hard, but it's more comfortable than the pre-book restlessness.

One of my best short stories developed when someone asked me what I was getting my granddaughter for Christmas. I said "that depends on what the other grandmother is buying." Loved the phrase"the other grandmother." No, "the other mother" would be even better. I liked the way it rolled off my tongue. Such an unlikely source for a workable idea. The story morphed into "Any Old Mother," and was selected for the MWA anthology, Blood on Their Hands.

I'm working a new Lottie Albright mystery. Off and on it's set in one of the seven natural wonders of Kansas: The Salt Mines. It's an amazing place. Soon I'll write more about this. 

In the meantime, write a book using your great idea. I promise your inner owl will fly to your aid.

Faraway? Nearby? Places

When I started the Lottie Albright series I fully intended to use fictitious names for places. Because we Kansans are a bit touchy and quick to see an insult where none is intended.

In fact, there's an old joke that someone asked where a man was from. He joked, "Kansas. Now laugh damn you."

Fully half of the counties in Kansas had vicious county seat fights during the organizational stage of development. Of course I couldn't use a real county name. That would just be asking for trouble. So my series is set in Carlton County Kansas. Smart choice. No county in Kansas was ever named Carlton. Some county names disappeared when districts merged.

The town in the series is Gateway City. I don't believe there was ever a Gateway City in Kansas. I was charmed by the headline in a newspaper in Sherman County that declared Goodland was the Gateway to everything important in the West. Sojourners were especially encouraged to stop in Goodland on their way to Denver.

I steered away from existing city names because of the ancient animosity between some of the towns. For instance, in the early 1900s, Goodland hired a rainmaker. But lo and behold, it rained on Colby. Goodland sued it's neighbor for stealing its rain.

Then I messed up. I thoughtlessly said the Fiene family's housekeeper came from Studley, Kansas. I needed that town because it was settled by Englishmen in the 1800s and I wanted Zola Hodson to have been trained in estate management by an English grandfather.

Studley was a lively community. Many of the men were "remittance men." This term was given to English second or third sons who would never inherit under the laws of primogeniture. Only the first sons were blessed with the land and property. Remittance men were paid an allowance and politely urged to get lost. The population of Studley did its best to recreate jolly old England. They rode to the hounds--substituting jack rabbits--and partook of high tea.

Other names crept into other various books. My last mystery, Fractured Families, begins in the strangest place in all Kansas--the Garden of Eden. It is a marvel of grass roots art. The joined sculptures surround a block and endorse a passionate populist political philosophy. No place in the United States can be substituted for the Garden of Eden.

My next book, Silent Sacrifices, contains a lot of information about the Kansas Salt Mines. As with the Garden of Eden, there simply can't be another name used for this powerful geological marvel. Plus, it's creepy. The ideal place for "strange things afoot."

I started out with pure intentions and kept places fictional, but in this state, facts are always stranger than fiction.

Making Do

Last Friday I drove back to Kansas to give a talk at the annual meeting of the Solomon Valley Highway 24 Alliance. It was nothing short of miraculous that the weather was unseasonably pleasant both in Colorado and Kansas.

I don't mind long drives. I listen to audiobooks written by writers I haven't had an opportunity to read. Flying is impossible when I take an assortment of books along. I always drive when I can make my destination in a day.

The growth of the Solomon Valley Alliance was very impressive. Once again I'm stunned by the energy and accomplishments of small rural communities. Budget cuts have about brought Kansas to its knees. Everything is do-it-yourself. We make the most of what we have. We make do.

Much to my delight I was awarded a special merit plaque for writing Nicodemus: Post-Reconstruction Politics and Racial Justice in Western Kansas. Additionally, I received an exquisite miniture copper windmill.

When people ask me where I live, I always say Kansas. My kids look at me funny because I've been in Colorado eight years now. But here's my story and I'm sticking to it: Colorado was once part of Kansas Territory. I don't care what these ignorant people call this state. I would never leave Kansas.

The next day I went to the Kansas Salt Mines. What an amazing trip. And yes, it has everything to do with my next mystery. The mines are 650 feet underground and the humidity and temperature are constant year round. The mines are where the negatives of Ben Hur, Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz and countless other films are kept. There are thousands of government documents stored in the mines.

There's nothing like on-the-spot research. The mines are not at all like I had imagined from on-line reading. There are so many tunnels, the ceilings are lower, and I still can't understand how the shape could be so perfectly rectangular.

The Salt Mines are a natural wonder. But in the make-the-most-of-what-you-have category, a wonderful lady who helped me with my book signing introduced herself as "the ball of twine in Cawker City."

Oh, you've never heard of this? Kansas has the world's largest ball of twine. People come from all over the world to see it. She said recently there was even a vistor from Mongolia.

But you would have to live there to understand this brand of humor. And who would have thought the ball of twine would become a leading tourist attraction.