Venturing into the World

 As I read what my blogmates have written over the past months about venturing out into the world, I feel like the woodchuck who lives under the storage hut in my backyard. He (or perhaps she) pokes a head out of its tunnel to have a look around before emerging out into in my pocket-size but lushly green backyard. There is a grapevine that has been impossible to kill and that every summer intrudes across the low fence into my neighbor's yard. Despite being ripped out by a tree trimming company last year, it is back again and now climbing into a young tree nearby. While looking innocent, that grapevine can kill the tree. But it and the wild flowers around it provide the woodchuck and the rabbit family that live in my backyard with a place they can quickly shelter when I come into the backyard with my dog, Fergus. 

Not understanding the concept of leashes, they don't know that even when Fergus dashes into the yard, I have a firm hold on him. No woodchuck will be pursued into its tunnel or rabbit, squirrel, or chipmunk harassed on my watch. The birds are capable of fending for themselves, but they would all probably be safe even if Fergus were running free. He is a lover not a predator. In all likelihood, he would be front paws down, butt up in the air as he barked at a baby rabbit and waited for it to play. 

But unlike Penelope, the Maine Coon cat, with whom he lives and who alternates between indifference, mild interest, flirting as she brushes by him, stopping to sniff, and meowing in distress as she sits beside the kitchen door waiting to be let down in the basement -- her "cat cave" where she sleeps inside an old work table left by the family who once owed the house or up in a space in the ceiling or behind paint cans or a box of Christmas decorations. She would be more convincing about her need for a place to escape to if Fergus didn't help her out by chasing her to the door and then sitting down beside her to wait for me to let her out -- sometimes barking or scratching on the door with his larger paw so that I will come and open the door for her. 

Penelope, a rescue cat, would love to run out the front door when it is open. She once did in the middle of the night when I took Fergus out. As I searched for her with flashlight in hand, wondering if she would come in on her own if I dared leave the front door open, she ran back up the steps leading down to the street and up the walk and the front steps and back into the house. Penelope had found that venturing out at night in the dark was more freedom than she wanted. But she still waits by the door when Fergus and I go out, and I have learned to close the door from living room into foyer before opening the front door. I am thinking of getting a collar with her name and my telephone number in case she should ever manage to dash by me or someone else and get herself lost before she realizes she is out in a neighborhood where dogs are being walked -- and that we live several cross streets up the hill from an avenue with four lanes where traffic is rushing by.

Although I share Penelope's desire to explore, I feel rather like the woodchuck peeping out from under the storage hut. I have been going out every morning to take Fergus to daycare. I've been doing that for months. I return to pick him up in the afternoon after trying to get some work done. I'm now going to supermarkets and to pick up food. I've even had dinner out with a friend three or four times. I've gone to a mystery conference. Sometimes I wear a mask, sometimes I don't. I find myself matching my behavior to that of others in some settings. It seems -- oddly enough -- almost an accusation to wear a mask when no one else is wearing one. I feel as if I am suggesting the other people might be careless enough to be there if they are ill. But that makes no sense. They could well be contagious without no raging symptoms. When I am going to be in a busy place with lots of other people, I opt for the mask. 

But now -- in September -- I have my first airplane trip since the pandemic began. I am planning to take an international flight from Newark, New Jersey to Dublin, Ireland. After three days in Dublin, I am going to get on a smaller plane and fly over to Torquay for the International Agatha Christie Festival. 

https://www.iacf-uk.org/festival-2022

I am excited about finally being able to accept an invitation to do a presentation at the festival. I'm also excited about going to Ireland for the first time and having the opportunity to do some field research that I can use when I begin writing my 7th Lizzie Stuart.  Book 4 is about to be reissued by Speaking Volumes with a new cover. See below:

I am plotting the 6th book after a lapse of years. It seems a lovely bit of serendipity to be going to Torquay for the festival. My first Lizzie novel, Death's Favorite Child, was set in Cornwall, written during and after a vacation in St. Ives with a friend. In my book, Lizzie and her travel writer best friend Tess Alvarez were staying at the same sort of private hotel. When the young housekeeper, niece of the two sisters who were the proprietors, was murdered, Lizzie had her first crime to solve. The plot and the characters and even the murder weapon were inspired by Dame Agatha.

That first book was the one in which Lizzie met John Quinn, American homicide detective, who was visiting his former partner who had retired to St. Ives with his Scottish wife. Now, two years later in series time, Lizzie and Quinn are engaged and due to be married in Book 7. I anticipate they will be sidetracked from their honeymoon in Paris by a matter involving Quinn's late father (career military) and his Irish roots.

So, I'm venturing out and crossing my fingers that some new variant of Covid won't upset my plans. Even though I purchased travel insurance in case I have to cancel, I'm feeling optimistic. I hope I'll be able to take that flight to Ireland. Although I'm coming back in coach, I'm treating myself on the way over. A chat with my travel agent and a discount sale convinced me that I should splurge on an upgraded seat on my direct flight to Dublin. I'll be able to stretch out in my own little sleep pod. With only three days in Dublin, I want to enjoy every moment -- just in case I come home with Covid and need to go back into my hole.

Not Heaven, But a First Draft

 In one of his dramatic monologues Robert Browning's chararacter -- an aging artist with a faithless wife -- muses, "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,/ Or what's a heaven for?"

I went back to make sure I had the quote correct because as with many texts, something is often lost or distorted when it moves into cyberspace. And, it has been years since I last read Browning. Reading "Andrea del Sarto" again reminded me of one of the sources of my inspiration. Browning was so lodged in my literary subconscious that I used a play on his words in explaining what the acronym for my all-purpose communication device (an ORB) stood for in my near-future (now alternate history) police procedurals. When I was asked by several readers, I needed to come up with an answer that I myself didn't know. I backtracked in my "world-building" and discovered that ORB was derived from a quote by the creator of my world's cybernet. In a philosophical explanation of what he had created, he used the phrase "our reach beyond".

The reason I wanted to quote Browning is because I've signed up for NaNoWriMo. For those of you who don't recognize it, that acronym stands for National Novel Writing Month. It is a much acclaimed annual event that writers love because it gives us a chance to set goals and have the support of other writers who are doing the same thing. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month, the month of November. Here's the link if you'd like to know more.

https://nanowrimo.org/

What has struck me about signing up for NaNoWriMo again this year -- as I have done in the past -- is that my reach always exceed my grasp. If the challenge is to write 50,000 words, I try to write an entire book. This year, I want to finally get through the first draft of my historical thriller. I know that it will be around 95,000 words when I'm done. Being sane, I won't try to write 95,000 words in a month while carrying on with my other job -- teaching. But I have set myself the ridiculous goal of writing 75,000 words. 

Why? Well, because I have realized that I write best when I have a challenge. This year -- as opposed to last and the years before -- I am not only announcing my goal to finish my first draft. I am announcing the goal to people who I know and whose opinion I value. Not to say I don't want support from readers and other writers who I have never met. But I do even better when there is someone (preferably, as this year, groups of people that I know) who will ask how I'm doing. That makes me accountable. 

Being accountable worked for me with my first published book. Belonging to a writing group kept me at my keyboard for the several years while I was producing one version of my first Lizzie Stuart novel after another. But accountability really kicked in when I told my fellow writers -- only half-serious when I said it -- that I was going to take my main characters along with me on my vacation in England and write a book set in London and Cornwall. Having said it, I did my advance research and, during the week I was there, did field research and outlined the book. And then I came home, excited and fired up, and wrote the book. When an opportunity to submit to a new imprint came up, I had a book ready to send out. 

So, once again, I am going to play a psychological game with myself. Ignoring the 50,000 words of the challenge, I'm going to try to exceed my grasp. That will get me through a rough first draft. Then I will have a manuscript to revise and send off to my incredibly patient agent. 

If you're doing NaNoWriMo be sure to look me up. Even if we don't know each other yet, we can cheer each other on. 

And, thank you again, Robert Browning.

Type M Recipe Challenge

I know I said my November posts would be about doing NaNoWriMo. But I don't have anything else I want to say right now. I'll let you know how I did after it's over. Today, I want to accept Rick's challenge to share a recipe related to one of our books.

Here's the backstory for this recipe. My Lizzie Stuart mystery series is currently being reissued by Speaking Volumes. My original publisher was Overmountain Press, a small independent publisher specializing in Southern books. Overmountain added a mystery imprint called Silver Dagger, featuring Southern authors --  in my case a Southern-born author with a Southern-based character.

The Silver Dagger imprint was launched with a splash. The authors worked as a consortium, marketing together. We were asked to contribute a recipe related to our first book for a collection that  would be a giveaway. I turned to my good friend, Alice Green, for help. Alice was and still is the executive director of a community-based nonprofit. She is also an excellent cook. I asked her to come up for a recipe for "yummy balls".

In my first book in my Lizzie Stuart series, Death Favorite Child,

the victim has a peanut allergy. To satisfy her sweet tooth when she was a child, her aunt came up with a tasty treat that she called a "yummy ball". The dastardly killer substitutes ringer candy balls.

In the book, the about-to-be victim tells Lizzie what's in the yummy balls. Based on that description that I made up, Alice went into her kitchen and concocted a recipe. Her husband taste-tested several versions until she found the right combination. Yummy balls are so good that my publisher at the time served them at a holiday dinner.

I don't have to tell you (but I will) that you should not make or eat these if you have a peanut allergy. This is the version that did in my victim.

Alice's Yummy Balls

1 cup dark corn syrup
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup crunchy peanut butter
1 cup finely chopped salted peanuts
3/4 cup chopped dates
11/2 cup uncooked oatmeal
2 cups Rice Krispies

Combine corn syrup, brown sugar, honey, and butter. Bring mixture to a boil. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter until melted and smooth. Add peanuts, dates, oatmeal, and Rice Krispies and stir. Hand roll the mixture into balls about the size of a large walnut. Place in a dish. Keep refrigerated, but served at room temperature.

Another Voice

I should have known, but I didn't. A couple of days ago, I was editing some chapters. When I clicked "Review," I saw something I hadn't noticed before -- a big letter "A" and the words "Read Aloud Speech." I must have downloaded this at some point, but I had never seen it before. It isn't on my computer at work.

Curious, I clicked on the "A" and suddenly this male voice was reading my manuscript aloud.

Now, I haven't been completely oblivious to technology. I knew this was possible. But I didn't realize I had it, and that instead of spending hours reading my book aloud -- something I do with everything I write -- I can sit back and listen to my narrator read. This is going to save me precious time as I check my published Lizzie Stuart books against the last manuscript versions I can find of each. As I've mentioned the series is being reissued by a new publisher. I only have the ARC and edits for the last book in the series.

Discovering my narrator also means I can continue work on my nonfiction manuscript today even though I have a miserable cold. I need to save my voice because tomorrow I'm scheduled to offer a writing workshop at the public library.

Speaking of voices, I've been thinking about what Barbara and Donis said about characters in their posts this week. The workshop I'm teaching is about characters in mystery/detective fiction. It's a follow-up to the four-part course I offered this summer. Barbara, I will certainly quote your observation about characters: "I believe the greatest authenticity has to be in the realm of characters." And Donis, I love what you said about how the relationship between characters may change as they "reveal themselves." I'm going to send the workshop participants to Type M to read both posts.

Meanwhile, I'm going to go make myself another cup of tea with honey and lemon and try to get myself together.

If anyone else have thoughts about characters, please share. I can't write until I know some things about my characters -- at least some of their backstory. But I know pantsers who plunge in, discovering almost everything about their characters as they write. Thoughts?