A Little Something on the Side

 I learn a lot from the funnies page in the newspaper. I'm a puzzle aficionado, and start every day by reading the paper front to back, and then working all the puzzles. This is not quite the time consuming activity it use to be a few years go, when the daily paper actually had news in it. But at least the puzzles get my brain revved up for the day. One of my favorite puzzles is the Jumble, which consists of an anagram of a quotation from a well-known person. Not long ago I deciphered a quotation by Truman Capote which as a writer, I found quite insightful. It was as follows:

Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade, just as painting does, or music.

Perspective is a sense of depth. It's a way to show things in their true relationship to one another, a way to make them seem real.

The characters who people a novel are what the majority of readers care about the most. Action and suspense and an intricate plot are all fantastic, but if we aren't invested in the characters, we don't much care if they get it all worked out, or if they escape the danger, or figure out who did the deed. And if the author can create a series with true and appealing characters, then the reader will want to read the next installment, and the next.

So, your characters are involved in the intricacies of the plot. The sleuth has to find out who committed the crime, or who is chasing him, and why. The red herring suspects have to prove they didn't do it. The killer has to throw the hunters off his trail. But if the characters only exist to serve the plot, so what? If instead, the plot exists to reveal the characters ... now you're talking.

What does this have to do with perspective, you ask? Well, Have a seat, for I'm about to tell you.

A side story exists in a novel for the sole purpose of adding depth. It's through a side story that the reader discovers why the sleuth is like she is. Why is she so obsessive about unravelling the crime, even though she's been removed from the case, or fired by the client, or threatened with death if she perseveres? Could it be because the victim so reminds her of her own mother, who was also a battered woman? We find this out not because the author simply tells us, but because the sleuth goes home after a long day of detecting, and her mother is there, fixing dinner. We discover through successive scenes, actions and conversations, that her mother is physically and psychologically damaged from years of abuse. Perhaps Mom is agoraphobic. Perhaps she finally shot her abuser and spent time in prison. Perhaps the sleuth was ten years old when this happened, and to this day is riddled with guilt that she wasn't able to help her mother at the time.

None of this has to do with the major plot line, which concerns the discovery in an alley of a murdered woman whose body shows signs of years of trauma. Was she perhaps a professional show-jump rider, or a downhill skier? A roller derby skater?  Or maybe she was a battered woman. Our sleuth can't help her now, just as she couldn't help her mother. But maybe she can show the poor woman justice.

The side story has given the sleuth a life apart from her job. Now the reader knows her as a person, and we hope, cares abut her and is rooting for her to succeed.

My New Dog - Seven Years in a Cage

 My dog Scout, a fourteen-year-old Shiba Inu, seemed as though he was getting close to the end. Severe bronchitis, treated with steroids that caused digestive issues while stoking his appetite, made him gain a lot of weight, which aggravated his arthritic hips. Poor guy could barely walk in between his coughing fits. The impending grief of losing such a dear companion prompted my girlfriend to look for a second dog. She wanted another Shiba Inu, which she found through a dog rescue agency. Shibas are amazing dogs and it made me wonder who would get such a creature and then put it up for adoption? Or to any dog, actually.

 

So we found our new pooch, a cream Shiba Inu with the very un-dog name of Dirk. Though fully grown and physically healthy looking, he's got significant developmental issues. Easily frightened, any loud noise or sudden movement will make him shy away. Being outside really spooks him. Going for walks, which dogs should love, is a challenge.

He's the product of a puppy mill and the neglect he suffered makes me tear up thinking about it. He was kept caged for seven years, and once separated from his mother, never had a chance to play with others, in effect, learn how to be a dog. What he wanted was affection and no one gave it to him. 

We've had Dirk now for almost a month. In his youth, Scout was fiercely territorial, and he's mellowed some, enough for him and Dirk to get along. They haven't yet bonded but do pal around a bit, and we think that's why Scout's health has improved. Though he still can't jump, letting Dirk claim the sofa. 

What does this dog story have to do with Type M for Murder?

To show how childhood can indelibly affect your life.

I recently finished Truman Capote's masterpiece of crime nonfiction, In Cold Blood. He leads us through the details of a horrific mass-murder, which at the time, shocked the country. Sadly, since then, the body count of that slaughter has been eclipsed several times. The book laid out that what drove these perpetrators, like others who've committed similar heinous acts, didn't suddenly happen. The two killers were products of much childhood abuse, which they internalized and then expressed in acts of rising threats and violence until they were able to frame the murders as justified given their objective: getting rid of witnesses to cover up a robbery.

But such reactions to childhood trauma are not universal. I know people who reacted to abuse and domestic violence by going the other way, striving to be wholesome, sane, and kind. 

Not all crime stories need be dense examinations of human psychology but understanding human nature helps write more compelling villains...and heroes.

 

Scout and Dirk.

Writing or Typing?

I read an interesting quote once by a poet that went something like this: I write 23 hours a day, I type for one. It indicated that the poet spends a lot of time in her head. Similarly, Truman Capote once said of Jack Kerouac’s work, That’s not writing, that’s typing.

Typing vs. Writing is a concept I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. No, no one said to me what Capote said of Kerouac; not yet, anyway. But I do know myself: when I get in trouble on the page, I’m overwriting. 

I once believed overwriting came from over-thinking. I don’t believe that anymore. I believe overwriting comes from not thinking enough. I’ve turned to journaling –– thinking through my plot in my notepad. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, nor should it have taken me this long to figure out. In my classroom, students must free-write in a notebook, never on a computer, because we know they digest the material better when writing longhand. Why it took me until age 51 to take my own advice is a conversation for another day (or post).

But now I’m much more likely to slow down or even stop writing and return to my journal. I’m not working from an outline. The journal is where I think things through, where I make realizations, where I solve the puzzle I’ve created. In short, it’s where I trouble-shoot. It saves me from writing scenes (or as many as I usually write) that will never see the light of day in a final draft. It’s also a place where I can make plot decisions. This is key for me. In the journal, I’m making deductions and figuring out why and how things have happened to date. For a “pantser” (someone who writes best by the seat of his pants), the journal provides a safety net.

It takes me away from the keyboard and, if I’m being honest, slows me down. But both of those are good things. We’ve all spent too much time in front of our computer screens these past 18 months; and slowing down to speed the novel up, is a trade I’m willing to make.