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.