Old Books

 by Charlotte Hinger

Today I downloaded Captains and Kings by Taylor Caldwell. I can't pinpoint what made want to re-read this old old book. I read so many books that are less than memorable. I would like to pinpoint the reasons why so many of these ancient books have stuck with me. In the case of Caldwell, her characters were so vivid.

Thanks to Amazon it's easy to track down these old books that I've remembered for a lifetime. I still own a lot of them. My interest is more than a nostalgia kick, although I am a nostalgic person. This obsession was stirred up by my whimsical treacherous muse who pointed out that I needed to improve characterization.

The books I especially admire were mostly commercial successes, but that not why they stuck with me. I loved the central character in each one. But beyond that, these characters had a huge heart-wrenching problem worth wresting with.

For that matter, it seems to me the old writing books had a lot more information than the manuals I pick up today. I'm re-reading Maren Elwood's Characters Make Your Story. It's outstanding. It's tough reading and I don't think I understood some of her points until I had written several books.

Elwood insists that characters come from within. Spinning them from thin air doesn't work. You can give a man a quirky car, some semi-handsome physical attributes, a few snarly snappy lines and he will still seem like everyone else's cardboard cut-outs. Ditto for Too Stupid To Live Heroines. You know. The ones who never call for back-up. Or run around saying, "Oh I'll show him!"

Here is a just of a few of these old, old books I'll re-read and why:

Green Dolphin Street--Elizabeth Goudge. It's my all-time favorite whose theme touches a spiritual chord within me. Goudge, has the ability to make unlovable multi-dimensional characters profoundly lovable.

Love Let Me Not Hunger--Paul Gallico. This is a hauntingly beautiful insight into the cloistered world of the circus. Who knew that this society fostered it's own royalty? What I remembered forever and forever was Mr. Albert, the animal trainer. How did Gallico so vividly create such a noble humble old man whose personal story broke my heart?

A Distant Trumpet--by Paul Horgan. A historical novel telling about the Indian wars and the relentless campaign to hunt down the Apaches. And for years, whenever we moved to another town, another library, or even when I was visiting relations, I went to their library to look up General Alexander Upton Quade. I couldn't believe he wasn't real. After forty years went by, I found out this character was based on the autobiography and writings of General George Crook. Horgan told the‎ story from the Indians' point of view as well as the soldiers'.

Not As a Stranger--Morton Thompson. One of the great all-time medical novels. Not only was it informative, I had such hopes for the protagonist. He was destined to be one of the all-time great doctors.

Five Smooth Stones--Ann Fairbairn. One of the great social novels and one of the few that delved into subtle Northern racism. This was published in 1966 when the Civil Rights Movement was roiling America.

Rebecca--Daphne du Maurier. Need I say more? One of the great classic mysteries, which was the forerunner of the gothic novels. At one time I couldn't get enough of them.

There are some common denominators to all the books I've mentioned. They all have great plots. Every single author is a masterful story-teller. And for some reason they are all l-o-n-g.

Will these books still resonate with me forty years later? Will I still have the same insight? Stay tuned.

Haunted by Books

 by Charlotte Hinger

During the Covid lockdown, I reread some of my all-time favorite books. I was curious, too, as to why they were memorable and so many I've read recently aren't.

Thanks to Amazon it's easy to track down these old books that I've remembered for a lifetime. I still own a lot of them. My interest is more than a nostalgia kick, although I am a nostalgic person. This obsession was stirred up by my whimsical treacherous muse who pointed out that great books depend on great characters.

The books I especially admire were mostly commercial successes, but that was not why they stuck with me. I loved the central character in each one. Also, these characters had a huge heart-wrenching problem worth wresting with.

For that matter, it seems to me the old writing books had a lot more information than the manuals I pick up today. I'm re-reading Maren Elwood's Characters Make Your Story. It's outstanding. It's tough reading and I don't think I understood some of her points until I had written several books.

Elwood insists that characters come from within. Spinning them from thin air doesn't work. You can give a man a quirky car, some semi-handsome physical attributes, a few snarly snappy lines and he will still seem like everyone else's cardboard cut-outs. Ditto for Too Stupid To Live Heroines. You know. The ones who never call for back-up. Or run around saying, "Oh I'll show him!"

Here is a just of a few of these old, old books I'll re-read and why:

Green Dolphin Street--Elizabeth Goudge. It's my all-time favorite whose theme touches a spiritual chord within me. Goudge, has the ability to make unlovable multi-dimensional characters profoundly lovable.

Love Let Me Not Hunger--Paul Gallico. This is a hauntingly beautiful insight into the cloistered world of the circus. Who knew that this society fostered it's own royalty? What I remembered forever and forever was Mr. Albert, the animal trainer. How did Gallico so vividly create such a noble humble old man whose personal story broke my heart?

A Distant Trumpet--by Paul Horgan. A historical novel telling about the Indian wars and the relentless campaign to hunt down the Apaches. And for years, whenever we moved to another town, another library, or even when I was visiting relations, I went to the their library to look up General Alexander Upton Quade. I couldn't believe he wasn't real. After forty years went by, I found out this character was based on the autobiography and writings of General George Crook. Horgan told the‎ story from the Indians' point of view as well as the soldiers'.

Not As a Stranger--Morton Thompson. One of the great all-time medical novels. Not only was it informative, I had such hopes for the protagonist. He was destined to be one of the all-time great doctors.

Five Smooth Stones--Ann Fairbairn. One of the great social novels and one of the few that delved into subtle Northern racism. This was published in 1966 when the Civil Rights Movement was roiling America.

Rebecca--Daphne du Maurier. Need I say more? One of the great classic mysteries, which was the forerunner of the gothic novels. At one time I couldn't get enough of them.

There are some common denominators to all the books I've mentioned. In addition to great characters, they all have great plots. Every single author is a masterful story-teller. And for some reason they are all l-o-n-g.

Will these books still resonate with me forty years later? Of course I won't have forty years, but never mind.

Yeah, I Wanted To Be A Novelist!

I was going to do a riff on Labor Day, but I just reread Donis Casey’s excellent piece that she posted on Thursday titled “So You Want To Be A Novelist”.   She does a good job at capturing the difficulties, the terror, the stress, and the pain that sometimes goes along with being a writer.

But yes, I’ve always wanted to be a novelist.  All my life. And, yes, there is a downside that includes hundreds and hundreds of hours spent alone in front of your laptop, your only company being the characters in your head.  The only conversations you have are the ones you make up. The only life you have are the adventures in your imagination.

It can lonely.  Luckily for me, I can take a break, go downstairs and hug my wife and pet my dog.

Obviously, there’s an upside. The joy when your editor finally signs off on your novel.  The thrill of seeing the cover of your new book.  The kick of opening up a box and seeing a dozen copies of your new mystery about to be released.

I love it when I’m out of taking a walk and someone comes up to me and asks, “Hey, are you the writer?”  Or, going into the grocery store and having a neighbor tell me how much they loved my last book.  Or, getting my haircut and see a set of my books on the shelf.

Before I was published, I’d go to book conferences and sit in the audience and listen to panels of authors talk about writing and publishing and crime. I wanted to be on those panels.

And now I am…at least I was until the damned pandemic.

Certainly, there’s a lot of work involved with writing a novel. But I love thinking about how my characters come to life in the minds of my readers, how they are captivated by stories I create, how invested they get in the plots.  I smile when someone tells me that they couldn’t put down my latest novel. And, I love doing book signings, book events, and talking to book clubs.

And I love it when my agent sends me a royalty check.  I once heard that only about 250 writers in the world can make a real living writing novels.  I’m not one of them.  But I get paid to write books.  That makes me a professional novelist and there’s a certain pride I can take in saying that.

I’ll close by paraphrasing a writer friend of mine, Jeffrey Siger.  He said, “Writing is a hard way to make a living, but it’s a great way to make a life.”

Now, a quick riff on Labor Day:

At the height of the Industrial Revolution in the United States in the late 1880s, the average American worked 12 hour days, seven days a week, just to make a meager living.  Children as young as 6 toiled in factories, farms, mills, and mines making even less than their adult counterparts.  Conditions were miserable.

As manufacturing overtook agriculture as the primary source of jobs, unions came into being.  As a result, organized strikes and protests erupted demanding better pay and fewer hours. On September 5, 1882, 10,000 workers took unpaid time off to march from City Hall to Union Square in New York City, making it the first Labor Day Parade. It was from this that a “workingmen’s holiday” celebrated on the first Monday of September began to take form.

On May 11, 1894 employees of the Pullman Palace Car Company in Chicago went on strike to protest wage cuts and the termination of union representatives. On June 26, the American Railroad Union called for a boycott of all Pullman railway cars, in effect shutting down nationwide railway traffic. The federal government dispatched troops to Chicago to break the Pullman strike.  The result was a wave of riots resulting in the deaths of more than a dozen workers.

Congress attempted to ease the massive unrest and attempted to repair ties with American workers by passing an act making Labor Day a legal holiday. President Grover Cleveland signed it into law on June 28, 1894.

So, will I be celebrating Labor Day and taking a day off?  Nah, writer’s gotta’ write.

Stay safe, stay healthy.

Seen, Scene, Sawed

Oh my scene! My lovely perfect scene. Cut to ribbons. The best writing I've ever done. But the fact is, this lovely scene didn't belong in my book. That's why rewriting it didn't work.

My character had changed. He would never, never do what this scene required him to do. It's very upsetting. But when I took a cold hard look at the manuscript, I realized my motivation was to work in an interesting bit of history. That's never a good idea.

There's an intellectual component to writing that complements creativity. I usually enjoy this second phase because all the characters have shown up by then and I know what they are like. They've auditioned and made the cut. Rarely do I throw someone out of a book. In fact, I don't like to eliminate whole scenes either.

But once in a while I have to cry "uncle" and just admit that a scene doesn't belong. Something went wrong.

There are many reasons why scenes fall flat. My first clue is that I keep trying to make it fit and it simply doesn't work. Rather than tossing the whole thing out, sometimes it's a matter of rewriting it in a different character's point of view. This can't be done in my Lottie Albright books because the series is in first person. All of my historical novels are in multiple third person so that format is easier.

Sometimes scenes are simply in the wrong place. The plot flow is interrupted when this happen. Or perhaps a scene would be best presented as a wee bit of back story. Whole flashbacks generally aren't used in modern mystery. Just a hint of the reason for a conflict can be used effectively in the sequel to a scene.

I've done a lot of cutting on the manuscript I'm working on right now. Sadly, a lot of it comes from not from scenes, but eliminating sloppy writing and passive usage. When did I finally understand the importance of active voice? I knew about passive usage with my brain, but not my gut.

There is so much to learn about the craft of writing. I'm in awe of the masters who command language and create scenes so vivid I'm whisked away to another world.

Writers and Multiple Personalities

My wife is not shy about giving me her opinion or ideas.  So when I asked her what she thought I might write about for this week’s blog, naturally, she had some thoughts.

“I took a photograph of your coffee cup that you leave in the sink every morning before you go to work.”

That’s your idea?

She smiled.  “In that moment that you put it there, you’re changing from one persona to another.  Here at home, you’re the writer.  When you walk out that door, you’re the president of the county’s Chamber of Commerce.”

There’s a little of that, I think.  Inwardly, I’m the writer all the time.  I’m constantly thinking of plot twists and dialogue and descriptions of characters.  But, certainly, in my office, my attention is prioritized to helping new businesses, improve the quality of life, working with the public school foundation, economic growth,  job creation, as well as much more.

To some degree, my wife is correct, however (although don’t tell her I admitted that).  I think writers have to have many personalities.  After all, in our books, we’re many people.

An old high school friend wrote to me last week telling me about a relative who has five distinctive personalities.  It’s created a life time of problems for their family.  Real life multiple personality disorder is serious stuff.

Of course I don't have the actual disorder, I think.  But writers have to be able to put on and take off multiple personalities.  We have to be able to think like our characters, talk like them, and act like them.

We are the good guys and the bad guys.

I’d like to think I can be as heroic, although less flawed, as my kick-ass heroine, Geneva Chase.

But obviously, I’m also the bad guy, because I’ve created him…or in my case, often many.  Where does that come from?  Is there a perverse, dark, evil person hiding in dark recesses of my psyche?

My editor sent me an email last week and this is how she described me after rereading Graveyard Bay, “such a warm cheerful persona covering up a dire, dreadful, bloodthirsty writer.”

Multiple personalities.

And as a writer, I hear voices, all the time.  Characters chatting away in my head while I drive to the grocery store, or as I walk down to the beach.  Thank heavens they go away while I’m in my work office.

They always come back, though, when I’m in my home office over our garage.

Multiple personalities that are the writer’s creations live and breathe in our books.  That’s why when we get a nasty review, and we do get them, it stings so much.  Our books are our world that we created out of nothing more than our imagination and experiences.

While I’m writing, characters that I’ve created often take on a life of their own.  They design their own plot twists or dialogue.  Often in directions that I didn’t originally see coming.

Crazy?

I’ve actually grieved after I’ve killed some characters in my books.  In my first book, Random Road, one of the main characters dies unexpectedly.  A neighbor of ours came up to me one day when I was walking the dog and said, “I’m really pissed off at your for killing that character off.”

I took it as a compliment.  That character was as real to her as he was to me.

Miraculously, while writing and imagining multiple personalities, we can snap back in a single moment and be ourselves again.

Or can we?

www.thomaskiesauthor.com

Characters and Their Lives

I'm finally coming up for air after spending the week racing ahead of a deadline. I've been thinking about the questions about characters my blog mates have asked this week. I have to admit that I am always more interested in the characters in a book or short story than in the details of plot. Not that I don't notice when the plot is weak or lackluster or ridiculous. But if the characters are intriguing and thought-provoking, I will read on and even pick up another book by the same author to find out what is happening with them. On the other hand, no matter how clever the plotting, if the characters are irritating, two-dimensional, or clueless (in both senses of the word), I am not likely to look for another book about them.

I, too, have had that question about how I avoid getting my two protagonists, Lizzie Stuart and Hannah McCabe, mixed up when I'm writing. I don't have that problem because I've written much more about Lizzie than about Hannah. I know Lizzie so well that I would recognize her if she came to life and walked into a room. I am in her head because she is a first-person narrator. She does

occasionally surprise me because she is changing as her life changes. But I can hear her voice. We also share a way of thinking about how to go about being a sleuth because we both do research in the archives and in old newspapers. In contrast, Hannah is "McCabe" in the books. She is the protagonist in the two books I've written so far, but the books are police procedurals. I write in third person, and sometimes from the point of view of other characters.

That brings me to the question about having characters from different series share the stage. I've been thinking about that because I did a radio interview recently and the host asked me a fun question -- one that only a mystery writer (or reader) would love and that I had never been asked. It was, if you were murdered (God forbid!) what fictional character would you like to investigate. My immediate response was Adrian Monk. Then I added Lt. Columbo. I'm sure there are other sleuths who could be as effective and would draw on all the latest in forensics, but as I lingered, waiting to be freed to travel on by having my crime solved, I would be able to enjoy watching those two investigate. Still, as soon as I said I'd like to have both of them work on my case, I started to think of what would happen with their very different styles.

I have thought about bringing my two female protagonists together in a story. I could have McCabe call Lizzie in Virginia to ask her about something. Or Lizzie, who attended graduate school in Albany, could come back for a conference or an award or stop in as she's in the area. I would love to hear a conversation between them. But, I'm sure McCabe would find it much easier to work with John Quinn, Lizzie's former homicide detective fiance. Quinn and McCabe would be on the same page and talk the same language. Not to say that they would be in complete agreement, but they would share the "cop thing." But the problem about trying to bring these characters together is that they don't exist in the same space. Lizzie is in the year 2004 right now, in the recent past of "our" world. McCabe is in 2020, in a world that is much like our own, but has an alternate history/timeline. The series that began as near-future will soon be in the present because the first book is set in October 2019.

The idea of bringing Lizzie and Hannah together is intriguing because they have an overlapping plot. This plot -- stretching over decades -- includes Jo Radcliffe, a character who has appeared only in a short story I have in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Jo lives in a village in upstate New York. She is in 1946, a former Army nurse, and she has a secret. Her life, overlaps with Lizzie's and her legacy affects McCabe. I once did a chart with all of the characters on a timeline. I've even played with having one of them provide the frame for my 1939 historical thriller that references these connections. But I'm still pondering. I don't know if I can pull it off. It might be safer to keep the secret that links them all to myself. But I'm thinking. . .

Babies and developing characters

This past weekend, my wife and I flew to Kentucky, to visit my family and my new grandchildren, twins Thomas and Caroline. We were both over the moon to be able to hold the little ones and watch their little personalities start to shine through.

On our last day in Kentucky, I was driving to a local Outlet Shopping Mall (it’s not all playing with the kiddos), I mentioned to Cindy that I needed to do a blog for Type M for Murder for Monday and I didn’t have a clue what I was going to write about. She suggested that I talk a little bit about character development.

She suggested that creating characters is a little like babies growing up. They start out as tiny blank slates, but instead of looking vaguely like a tiny Winston Churchill, our developing characters often start as people we know.

Babies, as they grow, take on their own personality, adopting traits of their parents, traits of their extended families, their friends, their teachers, and others that they emulate, knowingly or not. Our characters grow out of the back stories we give them.

Thomas and Caroline, fraternal twins, already seem to have two distinct personalities, even at five months. Thomas is quiet, observant, physical, sometimes wriggling out a short, loud temper tantrum. But he’s also curious, loves to interact with his toys, and loves to snuggle. So far, he’s the introvert.

Caroline is a verbal chatterbox (as much as a five month old can be), loves to smile, loves to be held and also loves to snuggle. She’s the obvious extrovert.

What amazed me was the way they reached for each other as they lay on their backs on a blanket on the floor. Did they already have a telepathic connection?

As I create my characters, they don’t emerge from my imagination as fully formed individuals. They are often based on people that I know or have met but with a Thomas Kies slant. I’ll give an example. One of my favorite recurring characters in the Geneva Chase series is Frank Mancini. Frank is a successful estate attorney, very attractive, bright, funny, athletic, and, according Geneva Chase, dynamite in the sack.

Frank’s flaws? He’s egocentric, a cad, and a serial adulterer. He’s married but that doesn’t get in his way.

The actual person I based Frank on is physically very similar. He’s also intelligent and funny. But my friend is fiercely devoted to his wife and a really nice guy. I’ll never tell him that Frank Mancini is his evil doppelganger.

I’ve found that character development, much like in real life, comes over time. People develop and change within the arc of the story. Sometimes they change in good ways, sometimes in bad. But change is a constant, nothing stays the same.

Because I’m writing this from a hotel room while my wife is out shopping, this blog is purposely short. I’d better put my computer away, drive out to the Outlet Shops, and pick up Cindy before her charge card goes up in flames.

Post script…when I picked Cindy up at the Outlet Mall, she hadn’t purchased a thing. That’s not how I would have written that at all.

Post post script... a good suggested writing exercise—while waiting for your flight, describe the people you see and create an interesting back story for them. What is their profession? What is their romantic status? Where are they flying to and why?

Exercise advice, don’t stare too long. You could find out more about their personality than you really want to.

Twins, the Holiday, and Pushing Laundry Up the Steps

I’d like to start out this blog with holiday news on the family front.  My daughter, Jessica, and her husband, Josh, have struggled for years to have a baby.  In the end, they went in-vitro and discovered that they were going to have twins.  An ultrasound told them that the kiddos were a boy and a girl.  Due date scheduled for the middle of January.

My oldest son, Tom, and his wife, Gillian, have two sons (my grandsons) Henry, twelve, and Jake, ten, whom I adore.  They’re smart, athletic, and funny as hell. Tom and Gillian are wonderful parents and it shows in their kids.

But we doubled the amount of grandkids around here when my daughter went into early labor last week and delivered Caroline Elise, 4lb 9 oz, and Thomas Frederick, 4lb 8 oz, 22 minutes later.  Both children are doing well but they will be in the NICU while they finish “cooking”.

I got the call after midnight from my son-in-law about the delivery.  When I heard they’d named the boy ‘Thomas’, I sat down at the kitchen table with a scotch in my hand and tears in my eyes.

And I about lost it when I heard the girl was named ‘Caroline’.

A little back story: I was a single dad from the time my daughter was thirteen. Jessica and I learned a lot together.  I didn’t know anything about shopping for groceries or cooking, but Jess and I learned it together.  Now, I love cooking.  I make mention of that in an earlier blog.  It’s really the main reason Cindy married me.  I do all the cooking.

In my first Geneva Chase book, Random Road, I introduce Kevin Bell, Geneva’s love interest.  He’s a single dad raising a thirteen year old girl named Caroline.  I had written Caroline with my own daughter in mind.

And now Caroline is real.

Switching gears:
Two days ago, Frankie Y. Bailey wrote an excellent blog about how she imagined her characters would spend their holiday. 

In Graveyard Bay, scheduled for release in July of 2019, the novel takes place the week before Christmas. I can’t say a whole lot about how Geneva Chase, Caroline Bell, and Mike Dillon spend their holiday, but if you’ve read the first twobooks in the series, you know it isn’t all decorations, sugar plum fairies, and boughs of holly.  It’s more guns, murder, whips and chains.

Good holiday fun.

The time of year that I begin writing a book has been the time of year the story takes place. In Random Road the story is told in the heat of July.  That worked for me on a number of levels.  A lot of the action takes place outside but the hottest scenes are in the bedroom.  Summer was perfect, plus that’s when I wrote the opening scene.

The second book, Darkness Lane, takes place prior to Halloween.  I love that time of year.  It’s autumn, the trees are resplendent, there’s a bite in the air, and it’s spooky.  Scenes in that book unfold in a dark forest, an old theater, and a haunted house.

Establishing the time of year and the location gives me the opportunity to afford the reader details that help make the book more real.  I use sounds, sights, and most importantly, scents in my descriptions. Holiday time has such wonderful scents—Christmas trees, baking cookies, cinnamon, roasting chestnuts (especially in New York).

Some smells are nearly universal in how they trigger memories.  For example, the holiday scents I mentioned in the prior paragraph.  The smells of a pizzeria—garlic, tomatoes, peppers.  The scents of a walk through a forest in autumn—decomposing leaves, damp earth, the smoke from wood fires in distant fireplaces. All of them are relatable to readers.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough.  I’m heading out to buy last minute presents.  But before that, I’m checking out photos of the kiddos again.

One last thing, I’ll leave you with a Facebook post by my son about Jake and Henry:


After comparing the 10 year old to Sisyphus as he was pushing two baskets of clothes up the stairs one step at a time, he gets to the top and says to his brother, "help me, I'm dying"

His brother, like the rest of the family, well schooled in the nihilistic fact that our long trek towards death begins the moment we're born, responds, "we all are."

I've raised them well.

Cheers and Happy Holiday.