A Joyful Surprise

 My first live event since the Covid shutdown was at Fort Morgan, Colorado, a town with a population of about 1l,500. There were over 130 persons there at a beautifully organized luncheon. Tables of eight were laid with exquisite china and hand-lettered name plates. 

The organization hosting this was the Philanthropic Educational Organization (PEO) I couldn't have been more surprised by the attendance. I sold every book I brought, including the four copies of my academic book. I always overpack, so I this outing was easily my biggest money-making talk.

I'm not only a weird combination of pantser/plotter in my writing methods, that's my approach to talks also. All of my books, whether mysteries or historical novels, have a non-fiction element that serve as the foundation of my presentation. My knowledge of African American history is embarrassingly narrow. Believe me, in a general sense, I don't know anything. 

I focus on the experiences of Blacks in Kansas--and the Great Plains and Nicodemus, Kansas in particular. However, I know a lot about that particular subject. 

Sandra Dallas, a great and prolific Colorado writer, once said she didn't understand the writing process. I loved that comment. I don't understand it either. Since I slither back and forth between genres and fiction and non-fiction, it's easier to explain the non-fiction process. Academic non-fiction is analytical and miserably tedious. Fiction is a magical process, and I don't know what I mean by that.

I can't explain how I intuit the approach to take in talks. My content to this lovely group of women was focused on history. There was a spark of attentiveness from the very beginning. Another time I might switch immediately to crafting mysteries and some publishing experiences. 

I speak for about thirty minutes and then call for questions. When the talk has been focused on history, I have to keep myself severely reined in or I will talk for another thirty minutes on a subject raised in a question.

Before a meeting starts, I ask the person organizing the event for a volunteer to help with money at the table where I will be signing. This is essential. People will only wait so long to get a book signed. It the process drags out while an author is making change, etc., they will leave. 

I'm hard of hearing and a group of voices creating background noise makes the situation worse. Also, events are invariably held in a bad acoustical environment. Usually the venue has high ceilings and and smooth floors. I've started carrying little sticky notes with me and ask people to write out the name they want used for the autograph. It's amazing how many ways there are to spell common names. 

In this discouraging environment it's easy to forget that good things happen. Books are written. Books are read. And they last forever. 

Getting by with a little help from my friends & my murder book

The summer has come and (nearly) gone, as of this writing, and it was a whirlwind. In July, I founded and directed a summer writing institute for teenage writers. Actually, July was the easy part, the culmination of 13 months spent planning, designing, and recruiting both faculty and students, and I have Type M’s Frankie, Tom, and Barbara to thank for serving as three of my seven visiting artists.

So now, as the fall launches a new school year, and I prepare to do it all over again, I’ve also hit the second half of the novel I’m writing. This is where things get hard. I’m 45,000 words in, the story line has taken a rough shape, and it’s time to get serious about plotting and tying up loose ends. It was interesting to hear all three of my Type M friends speak about writing, about plotting in particular. Most are “pantsers,” writing, as they say, “by the seat of their pants,” not knowing where their book will go.

Elmore Leonard said he spent the first hundred papes getting to know the characters. I love writing the first hundred pages. Now, as I approach page two hundred, I recently returned to my personal “murder book,” the notebook where I write character sketches, plot ideas, and questions I have about the manuscript on which I’m working. It’s literally my murder book.

I read again this week (in a Mystery Writers of America publication honoring him) about Jeffrey Deaver’s hundred (or more)-page outlines. I wish –– I REALLY wish –– my brain worked that way. My murder book is as close as I get, and, believe me, I’ve tried to outline. The story, it seems, always has other ideas (or my subconscious does and those only appear when I really turn everything off and sit down at the desk).

The other day, I sat for six hours at a picnic bench in a loud water park as my 12-year-old daughter Keeley and her friend went up and down crazy slides, ball-point pen out, murder book open, and filled seven pages, creating would-be plot points and coming up with what (hopefully) is a surprise ending (one I didn’t see coming when I began the book).

So as I head into the fall, the murder book will remain open, allowing me to finish the work in progress while another year begins, and I get to do it all over again.

Writing Short Stories

 

I think of myself as more of a writer of novels than short stories. I find books easier to plot. I’m pretty much a plantser (cross between plotter and pantser) when I’m writing a book, but I transform into a full-fledged plotter for short stories. I just have to understand in fairly great detail where I’m going with a short story before I can start writing it.

I’ve written half a dozen short stories over the years, all crime related, all of them eventually published online, but haven’t attempted one in many years. I know other writers who can work on a novel and a short story at the same time, but that’s not me. I’m a slow writer when it comes to books and an even slower one for a short story. Or so it seems.

I recently decided to try my hand once again at writing a short story or two when I saw a call for submissions to a Malice Domestic anthology. It took me quite awhile to come up with characters and a plot, but I managed to finish it the other day. So I’m doing my Snoopy happy dance in my head.

When I first started writing short stories years ago, I read a lot of how-to books on writing them, though I don’t recall finding one that specifically addressed crime/mystery stories. If anyone knows of one, let me know. My favorite of these books is Jack Bickham’s Writing the Short Story from 1998. I still reference it on occasion.

I think one of the best ways to learn how to write a short story is to take one that is similar to the kind you want to write and analyze it. I enjoy picking apart a story and seeing what makes it tick. For some reason, analyzing things makes me feel calm. I know, I’m a bit odd.

My advice for anyone who wants to write anything is to read, read, read the kind of books or stories that you want to write, then analyze some that you think are particularly well done. You’ll learn a lot by doing both. Then, of course, just keep on writing and submitting and writing and submitting...

Back from holidays!

By Rick Blechta

So for the past two Tuesdays we were out and about in the world, specifically on a trip to the US to visit family we hadn’t seen in nearly 20 months. With a 91-year-old MIL and a brother who’s recovering from a severe illness (not Covid), it was high time to make the trip.

I’m not going to beat this horse for long, but I do want to say we were shocked when we drove across the border near Buffalo, NY. We got through in 4 minutes, a new record for that chore. The border person asked three questions: “What is the reason for your visit,”, “And where are you going,” “How long are you staying?” Since we were entering using our US passports, these questions were out of line — but it’s not a good policy to point that out. I’m sure you noticed there was nothing about Covid, a question about how we were feeling or if we’ve been vaccinated. We drove away shaking our heads at the bizarreness of what had just happened. It was as if Covid didn’t exist.

Returning to Canada was just the opposite. We had to pre-register online for our crossing, supplying proof of our two vaccinations, presenting a negative Covid test result no more than 72 hours old, and then having to take an additional test which, if it proved negative, would allow us to avoid quarantining for 14 days.

I was so sad to read in Tom’s post yesterday that Bouchercon is again cancelled for this year because of Covid. It was also sobering to read of his, well, lack of enthusiasm for the launch of his new novel. That does not mean he’s unenthusiastic about the novel, just the launch. No matter how many you’ve had published, the launch of a new book is always a joyous occasion. Tom sounded, well, melancholy about it.

What are we poor authors to do? It’s hard to promote a novel when you can’t easily get out in public, and let’s face it, book promotion via social media is hit and miss at best.

What can readers do to support authors whose works you enjoy? Just what we’ve always done: buy books. I’m starting with Tom’s latest which I’m buying — from a brick and mortar store — just as soon as I post this.

But things will never get better until everyone stops pretending that Covid 19 doesn’t exist and does something about it.

Launch Date

Tomorrow, my fourth book Shadow Hill is officially released.  I’m having a book launch party on the patio of one of my favorite restaurants here on the coast called Floyd’s 1921 Restaurant.  It’s an outside venue which has become an important factor now that the Delta Variant of Covid is raging through the unvaccinated public.  

Sadly, only about 35% of the population here in our coastal county has been vaccinated and the number of illnesses and hospitalizations are spiking. 

So, I’m writing about good news/bad news.  

A book launch is always good news but why are they always on Tuesdays?  I’ve Googled it to death and no one has a solid answer.  One theory is that Tuesday is the slowest sales day.  That really doesn’t make sense to me, but there it is.

Another theory is that all the new books launching on that particular week are out on the same day, there’s less of a cost for distributors.  But why Tuesday?  Why not Wednesday?

Yet a third theory is that if the book sells really well early on, that gives a bookstore an opportunity to order more before the weekend.

The real reason?  They’ve just always done it that way.   

In the past, a book launch date was just that, the  first day you can buy the book.  But for Shadow Hill, that didn’t seem to be the case.  For the last month, Amazon has been shipping them out as quickly as the orders come in.  Barnes & Noble was shipping and selling at the beginning of August.  Other bookstores had them on sale as well.

Am I complaining?  Absolutely not.  Sell those books as fast as you can.

Anyway you look at it, launching the book is really good news.

What’s the bad news?  The Delta Variant of Covid is raging through the unvaccinated public.  Just this past week we heard that Bouchercon 2021 in New Orleans was cancelled.  It didn’t come as a surprise. If you have any kind of presence on social media and you’re friends with other writers, they were dropping out one at a time.

I’d been asked to be on a panel and to moderate a second.  I reached out to the five panelists last week to introduce myself and immediately, three of them told me they had cancelled.  

With New Orleans being one of the cities with the highest infections rate, it made sense for the conference organizers to make the painful decision to cancel.  They offered to refund my registration fee or I could donate it back to them.

I know they have expenses to cover so I didn’t hesitate to donate it to them

Tomorrow, I’m raising a glass with my friends, signing some books, and eating the outstanding appetizers that Floyd’s will be serving.  And for the rest of today, I’m looking over a manuscript due to be released in 2022 that has been marked up by my editor.  

Cheers.  

Thoughts about Process

 Frankie here. Charlotte's post last Friday about tenacity and her writing process made me think once again about "getting to finish" with my various works in progress.

My puppy Fergus has been at home from  doggie daycare all week as he finishes a course of antibiotics for a virus. Although I sometimes wonder if it is extravagant to spend money to send him to daycare, the past week has convinced me once again that it is worth it. Daycare is important to his socialization, and -- as important -- having him out of the house allows me to get work done. If all goes well, I'll at least earn enough to keep dog and cat in kibble and treats for a year or two.

While preparing for a Sisters in Crime National webinar I did on Wednesday, I had an opportunity to think about what always works for me. The one aspect of my process that I can always rely on is -- wait for it! -- research. Doing research gets me started, helps me push on through the muddled middle, and gets me across the finish line. 

Sometimes what I call research is no more than reading a newspaper and looking for articles that jump out at me. I keep a notebook at hand to jot down ideas inspired by the articles. When I'm stuck I flip though my notebook. I also keep a digital file. 

Today I was in my digital file and came across this note I made to myself about my 6th Lizzie Stuart novel. I'm still in the early stages of writing the first draft, but I've been keeping plot notes for months. This note is from an early synopsis. I wrote it when my working title was Nothing As Planned.  

It’s a month after the events in “In Her Fashion”. Lizzie has been reading about expatriates and that has brought her to Albert Einstein. She is reading a book about his struggle to complete his theory of relativity. She is fascinated by his effort to break through his block and his discovery of the solution while reading patent applications and then his boldness in challenging Newton’s theory.

"In Her Fashion" is a Lizzie short story that was published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine.  

 https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/eqmm/episodes/2014-06-27T06_59_34-07_00

The story was complete in itself, but a month later, Lizzie is still thinking about the people who were involved. The thing is I have no idea why I thought Einstein would be relevant to what happens in the novel. Lizzie is driving home when she sees a woman trying to change her flat tire. She stops to make sure she is okay. Later, she learns the woman is missing. The current working title of the book is A Rainy Night in Gallagher. 

But -- whatever I was reading -- I found something that I thought would be useful about Albert Einstein and his patent application. With luck it was a brilliant idea that I forgot. I'm going to have to find that article again. 

Meanwhile, Fergus is playing with his stuffed lamb. There is a hole in its belly, and Fergus has strewed white cotton from kitchen to dining room to living room. But, at least, it's something I can sweep up. I'm ignoring and trying to get a little more done before I call it a day.

 

Flash! Humankind Getting Stupider

Donis here. A few years ago, a study published in the journal Trends in Genetics postulated that once humans started living in dense agricultural settlements several millennia ago, we lost the evolutionary pressure to be smart. In other words, people are getting stupider*. The study author, Gerald Crabtree of Stanford University, wrote in the article that, "A hunter-gatherer who did not correctly conceive a solution to providing food or shelter probably died, along with his/her progeny, whereas a modern Wall Street executive that made a similar conceptual mistake would receive a substantial bonus and be a more attractive mate. Clearly, extreme selection is a thing of the past." 

 The ancient Celts disapproved of writing. They believed that it spoiled the memory. An educated person spent a lifetime memorizing lore and stories to word-for-word perfection. A modern person would consider a bard's memory nothing short of miraculous.

Somehow I don't think Crabtree's revelation is a surprise to any of you Dear Readers, given the current intellectual state of our great nation, wherein ostensibly normal people with what we would hope is an equally normal desire for self-preservation would rather die than admit they are wrong about ... well, anything. This anti-intellectualism has been going on for some time. I am reminded of something Earlene Fowler said to me a couple of years ago: "First there was e-mail, then Facebook, then Twitter. Now there's Pinterest for those who can't be bothered to use words at all."

The fact that after a year and a half of semi-isolation has turned my brains to mush has caused me to ponder this stupidity hypothesis. I am trying to get a handle on a new manuscript but thus far it's only an enormous tangle of words that is full of jewels stuck in a big pile of you know what. I've worked so long and hard on it. Why isn't it as fantastic as it ought to be? I know where I want to end up, but I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to get there. Sometimes I feel frightened, and wonder if I still have it in me. Will I find my way out of this maze? Am I getting stupider?

I try to comfort myself with the thought that I get this feeling with every book I write. And I'm not the only one. We’ve all heard many times that writing is rewriting, and anyone who’s ever scribbled a page knows that’s true. At least I’ve never met a literary Mozart, whose first draft is so perfect that it doesn’t need any alteration. In fact, most authors I know, even very well known and accomplished authors, think of their first drafts as something too embarrassing to be seen by anyone. It’s the rewriting that makes the book. If I may repeat something I’ve said here before - and never let it be said that I missed an opportunity to repeat myself - you have to have that block of marble before you can carve out a statue of David. Well, right now I'm sitting on a huge block of marble. I just hope I'm still smart enough to chisel a David out of it.

_____________

*All right, I know the correct phrase is 'more stupid'.  But 'stupider' is funnier.

 

The Olympian in each of us

 Here it is, August. Where has the time flown? In my last post, I talked about the distractions caused by summer visitors and the recent release from covid restrictions, resulting in almost no work being done on my current novel. Since then, several blog mates have described their unique methods for imposing self-discipline and "getting 'er done" as the locals say, even when it's the the last thing you want to do. 

I am having a temporary lull in visitors at the moment and should have time to make serious headway on my manuscript. However, suddenly I needed a new computer, and with that comes the search followed by the usual hair-tearing frustrations of getting all the apps and software to work properly (or even install). Trying to find the right passwords, remember user names, configure things so they make sense. Precious days lost. But now my new version of MS Word is working, my manuscript is loaded, and I have caught up on transcribing my longhand scribbled pages onto the computer. Time to move forward!

Reworking and reworking

And then along came the Olympics. I started off slowly, not knowing many of the athletes and not caring much. I watched a few swim races as a way to unwind at the end of the day. Slowly started to learn names, slowly started to care. So now I am spending more time watching than I should and listening to athletes' stories, their training regimes, their ups and downs. Meanhwhile, my manuscript languishes.

There is, however, a writing lesson in all this. And that is about trying, trying, trying, always aiming to do better. Falling down and picking yourself up. Losing a race, missing a medal, taking time to grieve and then doubling down on the effort to win next time. 

No one gets to the top of the podium by taking the easy way out, by accepting mediocrity, by throwing in the towel at the first roadblock. Elite athletes believe in themselves, but none of them feels entitled to be on the podium. Hard work, disciplined practice and dedication, and endless hours of trying to do better is what put them on the podium. Most of an athlete's life is heartbreak, pain, and sacrifice, and yet they don't give up.

Sound familiar? There are, of course, writers who rest on their laurels and who feel entitled to be on the bestseller's list even when they punch out a mediocre book. But for most of us, the road to publishing success, however modest that success may be, is littered with failed efforts, rejection letters, brutal reviews, and years of practicing and learning to write better. Each manuscript undergoes a slow transformation from scribbled mess to polished gem by working, reworking, and reworking some more.

Best Novel from Crime Writers of Canada

Some beginning writers try to hurry the process. They punch out a story, think it's perfect as is, and send it out to agents and publishers. The inevitable rejection letters either make them throw the story in the trash, give up writing altogether, or decide the professionals don't know what they're talking about. Rather than asking themselves the obvious question - how can I make it better? They dispute and reject suggestions from editors or beta readers, rather than asking - do they have a point?

Self-publishing has been a boone for many writers who, either by choice or by necessity, have opted to take control of their publishing career, but in my opinion, it is a double-edged sword. It allows some manuscripts to be rushed into print before they are the very best they can be. Being forced to pick yourself up after a brutal critique, or try again after a rejection letter, almost always results in a better book. Writers who succeed have persevered through rejection and criticism, through self-doubt and failure. They believe in themselves and the story they are telling. They always ask the question how can I make it better?

So all these hours of Olympics have been worth something. The athletes have inspired me and re-energized me to get back to work, to aim higher, to make this story the best it can be. Now, if i could only find time to write! 

Market Forces

Howdy all - Douglas Skelton comin' at ya from the sunlit uplands of the UK, specifically Scotland.

Publication week is usually an exciting time for an author. I say usually because there may be some out there who no longer feel such a publication day thrill.

Me? I find the idea that something I have laboured, sweated, cursed over has escaped the confines of the publishing halfway house that is the space between me typing The End and finally breathing the air conditioned air of the bookstores.

Apologies for what seems like self promotion but as this isn't available in the USA yet, my conscience is clear. Well, clearish. 

I wrote A RATTLE OF BONES while we were still in the clenched teeth of lockdown here in the UK - last summer to be precise - and I've written two more since then. That makes it very difficult when discussing the imminent release because, frankly, I have trouble recalling with any degree of accuracy some elements - like character names - of what I wrote back then. Even when writing I have to note them down because it wouldn't be the first time I changed a character's name midway, leading to extreme perplexion at the editing stage. Who on earth is Mr X? And why does he seem to talk like Mr Y? 

Yes, I could have a read at it but there's nothing more spirit-sapping than revisiting my own work. I always feel I could have done better and it's too late to change it.

Anyway. 

A new one is out there, free at last to run through the sunbeam-dappled forests of readers' imaginations.

Or something. Not sure where I'm going with all this imagery. I think the fine weather we've had here has addled me. In Scotland, fine weather means it hasn't rained.

Of course, the pandemic continues to throw a mask over most live events so there will be no bookshop launch or appearances, no library talks, and even festival events remain up in the air (though organisers are hopeful). I may, however, visit said bookstores, signing pen in hand to deface copies with any scribble. Some of them may even by my own!

I miss performing, which is strange because the real me is very much a solitary person. At social occasions I am the one in the corner doing his best to merge into the wallpaper.

And yet, some strange alchemy transforms me when I am asked to perform. Gone is the quiet, shy, self-effacing introvert and in his place is a wisecracking extrovert who has sung, danced and even donned wigs in pursuit of sales. It's like Jekyll and Hyde. And I'm not certain which is which.

I have recorded some interviews relating to the new book. I think I got away with them.

But the book is out there now, on shelves, hopefully flying from them so fast you can hear the Doppler effect. Come Thursday - the official publication date - it will drop into Kindles.

Will people like it? 

I hope so.

Will people be fooled by any narrative sleight-of-hand? 

I really hope so.

Will I remember my character names? 

What character names?

Out of Season

 

I have this silly morning glory plant that thinks it's a perennial. It's not. It's an annual. It thinks it's purple, too, instead of the usual bright blue. But there it is. Against all reason and the laws of nature. I'm amazed and I love this tenacious little rebel.  

This glorious little flower and Barbara's post put in mind of writing out of season and under trying circumstances. I have no idea how I managed to write when I had little children and a truck-driving husband who was gone a lot. After Don bought the truckline, everything was easier. Our joke was that after we were married twenty years we decided to try living together. 

Becoming a writer requires a great deal of tenacity. I think that's why I developed a quota system: five pages a day, five days a week. As I grew more successful the challenges of raising kids were replaced by the reality of 21st century marketing demands. There is always something that threatens to sabotage my writing. Email is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. 

Looking back, I don't know how I survived without Google. It's a pleasure to find quick answers to research questions. I used to rely on interlibrary loan. It involved lengthy delays and when a precious book arrived I would get suckered in to reading the whole thing. I read a whole book on fitting horse collars just to get one paragraph right for Come Spring.  

My microfilm collection is extensive. I use it to write academic stuff. I even have my own microfilm reader. It's not a printer, so I have to take some reels to our university library to print out hard copy. 

One of the biggest traps of becoming serious about writing is insisting on writing under ideal conditions. It simply has never happened for me. I would love to say I always write in the same place, at the same time every day, but in fact the only thing that's stable is my output.

For me, the quota system works for first drafts. Barbara and I both do a first draft in longhand. When I transfer this to the computer, the requirements are different. I type in a chapter a day, try to incorporate my notes, and straighten out plot issues. 

I have a peculiar method of outlining after I've written a chapter in longhand. I type a summary of the chapter with the setting at the top, the page span, and most important, the chain of events.

Ah, that chain of events. If nothing is actually happening in this summary, nothing is happening in the novel. It's deadly dull.  

This outline is printed on pink paper. Pink for promise. I tack each chapter on a cork strip. The pages are then replaced with yellow ones, because the light is beginning to dawn and I try to fix the mess. When these pages are replaced with blue ones, it means I'm going after language. This manuscript is now true blue. As good as I can do. 

Like my little morning glory it's my own way of doing things. Despite all logic or reasoning. 

Mystery Writers Who Host Podcasts

 

Back in April of last year I wrote about how I’d discovered podcasts. Since then, I swear the podcast world has exploded. Or maybe I’m just more aware of them. I listen to a number of them on a fairly regular basis. Today I’m going to talk about ones hosted by authors. This is, by no means, a complete list. These are the ones I’ve found over the last year, either because I was a guest on them, or I heard about through the grapevine.

Behind The Page: The Eli Marks Podcast – author John Gaspard, who writes the Eli Marks mysteries featuring a magician, hosts this one with Jim Cunningham. This season they’re focusing on “The Ambitious Card”, the first book in the series. Each episode consists of interviews with people involved in the world of magic followed by Jim reading a chapter of the book. Interviewees have included Dick Cavett, Suzanne the Magician, the Amazing Kreskin as well as lots of others. It’s an interesting podcast and, even though I’ve already read the book, I’ve enjoyed listening to it. Show notes for each episode include a lot of additional material like pointers to YouTube videos of magicians performing and other links related to the episode. It’s a great way to learn more about the magic world and sample the Eli Marks books, which are all great, by the way.

Criminal Mischief: The Art and Science of Crime Fiction – DP Lyle, MD, is a physician and an award winning author who writes the Jake Longly series as well as books on Forensics for fiction writers. From this podcast, I’ve learned about identifying skeletal remains, carbon monoxide poisoning, toxicology and a number of other interesting things.

The Cozy Corner with Alexia Gordon – In this podcast, Alexia, “a physician by day, crime novelist by night” interviews authors of cozy and traditional mysteries. She writes the Gethsemane Brown mysteries. She does a nice job interviewing people. I’ve appeared on the podcast and really enjoyed our conversation.

Cozy Ink Podcast – Leah Bailey hosts this one. She interviews cozy authors as well. Yes, I’ve appeared on this one, but I also enjoy listening to interviews with other authors. As with Alexia’s podcast, I’ve learned about a number of books that I didn’t know existed and have enjoyed reading. 

Destination Mystery – Host Laura Brennan interviews mystery authors of all kinds. Yes, I appeared on this one in 2018. The last episode I see was in March 2020 when she interviewed Jennifer J. Chow. All of the interviews are worth listening to.

These last two aren’t podcasts hosted by authors, but authors appear on them reading their short stories. I’m talking about Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine’s Fiction Podcast and Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine’s Podcast.

I’m sure there are a lot of other podcasts out there hosted by mystery authors. Please, tell me about them. I’ll add them to my listening list.

A public service announcement!

by Rick Blechta 

I will be on vacation this week and next.

See everyone on July 10th -- with holiday photos!

Stay well.

Believable Behavior

 If you’re going to be a writer, I believe you need to be a keen observer of your surroundings.  I’m not just talking about places and things and the appearance of people (who eventually become characters in your stories), but human behavior. 

Like when you give a book talk, you read the room.  Last Thursday night, I gave a talk to one of our many regional Rotary Clubs. This one was small in number, about twenty, the majority the audience being senior citizens.  

Most of the time, I lead with a joke that, if you haven’t heard it before, rocks the room.  Studying the faces last night, I knew that joke would fall flat on its backside. Instead, I launched with a self-depreciating description on my agonizingly long journey to being published.  

They thought that was pretty funny.   Okay, with this crowd, my pain was their comedy.

As I was speaking, I watched their faces to see if they were remaining engaged or if I was boring them into catatonia.  I’m pretty certain I did well because when I finished, they hit me with a flurry of excellent questions. 

One of them was the question I get most often, Is it hard to write in the first-person as a woman?” 

Yes it is.  I never planned to write more than one book that featured Geneva Chase.  It involves a ton of research, most of it online, of course.  When you’re writing mysteries, you look up everything from poisons to guns to escort services to muscle cars.

When writing about Geneva Chase, I also look up hairstyles and cosmetics, as well as women’s shoes and clothing.

You know how once you’ve looked something up online you receive an onslaught of related ads?  When I do my research, my computer screen is festival of weirdness. 

But I also listen to the way women talk and walk and how they act.  It’s a fine line between being observant and being creepy. 

So, let’s pivot for a moment, and talk about irrational behaviors.  When I’m writing, I try to describe behavior that’s believable.  The last thing you want is your readers to shake their heads and say, “That would never happen.”

And yet, we see irrational behavior all the time.  Most recently, people who refuse to get the Covid vaccine. Full disclosure, my wife and I jumped all over it when we had a chance to get the shot.  I was certain that everyone else would as well.  I was so certain, that I have my hotel booked and my airline ticket purchased to head to New Orleans for Bouchercon in late August.

Now, because there’s still a fairly high percentage of people refusing to be vaccinated, I’m having second thoughts.  The folks from Bouchercon sent an email to all participants that to be safe, the Mayor of New Orleans is asking people to mask up when they’re inside because of the increase in cases of variant infections, a danger in particular to those who are unvaccinated. 

The most basic human behavior is self-preservation and the safekeeping of those most close to you.  

I guess you could call this kind of irrational behavior a plot twist, but its one that strains believability. 

Mama Was Right

Like my blogmates and all of you, I've been trying to carry on in this new pandemic world. Yesterday I finally admitted something that even adults hate to admit -- "Mama was right."

 Okay, there it is. I said it. She was right when she said, "There will be days like this one." Meaning some days -- even some months and some years -- are going to suck big time. You gotta expect that, and when it happens you gotta find a way through it. Okay, the past 18 months have proven her right about that. Most of the time I resisted curling up under the covers and whimpering. 

Mama was right about getting something I had to do and doing it. Keeping the puppy I decided to get from destroying the house helped to focus my attention elsewhere. Mama was also right when she said I should eat healthy food, get outside and get some fresh air, and not sit there at my desk all day. She was even right when she said I should go to bed and get some sleep instead of staying up reading or watching old movies half the night.

 I've always complained about getting up early. I've done that since the first day of first grade, and I've designed my adult life so that I've been able to avoid getting up early most days. One of the perks of teaching at a university is that eventually, as you move up the academic ladder, you gain some control over when you teach your classes. Mine are in the afternoon. So, prior to the pandemic, I was staying up late because (a) I thought I was a "night person"; (b) I've always gone to bed late because I thought I couldn't sleep if I went to bed early; and (c) I had planned my life so that I was doing my writing in the evening and after midnight. But it turns out that I may be more my mama's daughter than I thought. 

When I was a child, I used to wake up even earlier than I needed to because my parents were up and chatting cheerfully as they made breakfast and got ready to leave for work. Who could possibly be cheerful when it was still dark outside in winter and barely dawn even in summer? It turns out, there's a lot to be said for waking up at dawn and getting up and getting the day started.

I only discovered this when I finally admitted that if I was going to completely housebreak my 8 month-old puppy (who was still having "accidents"), we both needed to be on a schedule. It wasn't his fault, it was mine. So, on this new schedule, he has to go out last thing at night and first thing when he wakes up. At night, I have to take him out before he tucks himself into his bed or try to get him up to go out when all he wants to do is sleep. To make this schedule easier on both of us, I've started going to bed when he is ready. 

In fact, it's becoming the new norm for our little pack -- including the cat who naps most of the day except when she is following me around -- to be in bed, lights out, before midnight. And awake at dawn and up and moving.

So mama get's another "I told you so".  On the days when I've had a good night's sleep and gotten outside at dawn and taken the dog for a walk in the evening after his day at doggie daycare, I feel better. I feel even healthier when I take my vitamins and eat my veggies and some protein. I'm not as grouchy, and I remember to smile and make friendly conversation.

And this has to do with writing because on days when I not tired and hungry and disgruntled, I'm actually getting a lot more done. When I get to bed early and sleep well, I actually dream again -- not pandemic nightmares, but instead the kinds of dreams I used to have, related to the books I'm working on.

 Last Saturday, up early, I put the dog in the car and we drove out to a suburban park to have a walk along one of the rambling paths. As we walked, I had an opportunity to observe the responses he elicited when he greeted the people we met as if each were a long, lost relative. Happy leap toward them, tail wagging, up on back paws if they reached down to pet him. Those animal-human interactions illustrated a social science concept I had been reading about -- and my well-rested brain went "click" and I finally had the last chapter of the book I've been working on about dress and appearance. I did a mental happy dance. Puppy and I trotted over to the farmer's market and bought blueberries and healthy dog treats. I also bought a mini coconut butter rum cake. But when we got home, I had only one slice before texting to offer the other half to a friend. I put the rest of my half into a freezer bag, and it is still there in the refrigerator, waiting for another occasion to celebrate. Mama would approve.

 And she would nod when I admitted that my healthy life hacks -- including mopping the kitchen floor more often -- are making me a better and more productive writer.

How I've Learned That Newton's Three Laws of Motion Perfectly Apply to Writing a Book During a Pandemic

 I (Donis)  actually went out to lunch with a friend last week (!) and we spent a great deal of time discussing how this pandemic has simply screwed up EVERYTHING. And I do mean everything. One of my husband’s doctors ordered a lithotripsy, a minor medical procedure, for him a couple of months ago, and husband dutifully got all the clearances from his primary doctor and his cardiologist, all the blood tests and x-rays ... forty days ago! We have not heard anything about when the procedure is supposed to happen. He called the doctor’s office a dozen times (I swear I am not making this up) and they never called back until he threatened to come down there and sit in the office until he got some answers. Which he did - and of course while he was gone, the nurse finally called our home number and I talked to her. Turns out the doctor is having trouble getting an OR scheduled for lithotripsy at any of the hospitals where he has privileges. Seems non-emergency procedures are so backed up at local hospitals because of the pandemic that it’s taking weeks and weeks to get anything scheduled. They could have at least kept us informed about what’s going on (grumble grumble). 

As for my pandemic-era writing, don’t even ask. There are days that I spend an hour starting at the screen and produce nothing. When that happens, it causes me great agony and despair that I can’t whip up the wherewithal to do what needs to be done. On such days I sit at my desk for an hour staring at a pad of paper, or at the computer with my fingers poised over the keyboard, and … nothing. It’s not even that I can’t think of anything to write. I am always writing in my head, and have done for as far back as I can remember.

I have author friends who have full time jobs and small children and broken arms and still manage to pound out two books a year. And one of the main tenets of writing that I propound when I teach a class is that it doesn’t matter whether you feel like it or not, you just do it. 

My writing regimen has become a perfect illustration of Newton’s three laws of motion.

Inertia: An object at rest remains at rest, and an object in motion remains in motion at constant speed and in a straight line unless acted on by an unbalanced force. i.e. if you write every day, your momentum will keep you writing. If something happens to make you stop and you miss a day, or two, or however many, you tend to remain at rest and its very hard to get started again.

Force: The acceleration of an object depends on the mass of the object and the amount of force applied. i.e. the bigger your manuscript grows, the easier it is to write on it, at least for me. It’s like a snowball gaining speed as it goes downhill.

Action and Reaction: Whenever one object exerts a force on another object, the second object exerts an equal and opposite on the first. i.e. the harder you work on the MS, the faster it speeds toward completion, like firing up a jet engine to make the plane take off.

Right now I’m slowly gaining speed (Law 2) However, half an hour ago we found out that the lithotripsy is scheduled for Monday, and considering the state of my pandemic-era will power, I fear I’m about to be acted upon by an unbalanced force and fall back into a state of inertia.

Summertime non-post

This is going to be one short post, because I have no time to think of anything intelligent to say about writing life. It's July, it's hot out, and Covid restrictions have recently been lifted in Ontario, allowing us all to finally bust out of our prison cells and go to stores, restaurant patios and family gatherings. Since my last post, I have acquired a new car, tried to ready my old one for sale, and spent ten days at my cottage with two of my children and their families, each family with a toddler. Does anyone get any writing, or indeed much coherent thinking, done with a two year old and three year old (who has given up her nap) to play with? In between shopping, cooking, eating, and washing up, we have had lots of fun, but there's been little spare time to check emails, let alone get any writing done for this blog or my current novel. 

My spiffy new car

Not that I'd have it any other way.

My current novel is in shambles. I am writing in fits and starts, with so many gaps between sessions that I can't remember where I am, what's happened earlier, and where I might be going. I write my first drafts longhand, and I have not had time to type out and print out what I've written, so I have nothing but scribbled pages to refer to. At the moment I am stealing moments of writing time during the children's nap (when they nap) and I am reminded that this is how I wrote much of my doctoral dissertation decades ago. Much of the rest of that was written once I had put my children to bed. Nowadays, however, I can barely type a whole sentence by that hour of the night. No wonder I can't seem to get any momentum going!

My favourite writing spot

But I know there will be time for writing, when they are all gone home, the cottage is quiet again, and I sink back into my familiar, mundane routine. 

But for now, I'm going to bed, because the house will be alive and hopping in a little more than six hours. 

Three things that bug me

By Rick Blechta

I guess that I’ve just been in a grumpy mood lately, but there are a lot of little things that I am finding irritating. I’m going to deal today with a few that involve words so I’m at least doing something that fulfills the mandate of Type M.

Maybe it’s just around Toronto, but I strongly suspect this is happening everywhere. Real estate is now sold by “teams.”

We drove north of Toronto for a brain-clearing walk in the woods yesterday. On the way we passed through an area that is rapidly being developed. All over the place were “for sale” signs and billboards that was being represented by teams. There is a lead name and then the t-word, as in “The Joe Blow Team.” I guess the reasoning is, that since Joe is very successful and well known for his real estate-selling skills, but they want to let you know that you may not be dealing with him, but one of his team members which is laudable. However, it strikes me as being overly precious.

While we’re on that subject, people who work in stores are now “team members” too. Either that or they’re “sales associates.” Want to work for any chain store or restaurant? You now are applying to become a team member. I guess being a team member or a sales associate is to make bottom-level employees feel more important, empowered, and valued — even if they’re still only being paid minimum wage. It’s all window dressing. Some bright boy or girl came up with this idea and every business has now jumped on the band wagon. Nothing has changed, of course, except the employees’ designation. Is anyone being fooled?

My last focus of complaint today is the one that really drives me nuts. Ever noticed how everything is now “curated?” The worst example I’ve seen of this was on a downtown Toronto convenience store that’s part of a chi-chi boutique hotel. They had a sign in the window trumpeting the fact that sold “a beautifully curated selection of convenience items.” I always thought that museums had the corner on curation. Now the guy who orders chips and pop in your local corner store has become a “curator.” It’s probably the most precious new phrase that’s crept into our vocabulary.

Do you have any current phrases that are bugging you? Let us all know. Come on, don’t hold back. We want to know!

Matching the music to the mood

(Image courtesy of Pixabay)

I was at a loss over what to write this week but then, while staring at that little cursor winking as if daring me to come ahead and try my best, my playlist switched to one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful pieces of music ever created for celluloid.

For some reason, Michael Kamen's theme to the TV mini series 'Band of Brothers' affects me deeply. In fact, there is a track on the album in which the voices of his daughter Zoe and singer Maire Brennan accompany the main theme and...well...I'm not saying I was moved to tears, I am from Glasgow, but there was definitely something in my eye.

Some authors don't like music as they write, some can't listen to anything with lyrics but I am one of those scribblers who uses it to assist in the writing process. I will even go to the length of selecting exactly what type of music depending on what I am writing.

Band of Brothers has been on the playlist while putting some finishing touches to an historical thriller I am writing on spec (publishers - please contact my agent!)

Unlike the series, the book is not set during World War 2 but the tone of Kamen's music is just right for the events in my story.

I also listened to the music of Fernando Velasquez, particularly his score for A Monster Calls, and Roque Banos' Alatriste.

You may have guessed that it is predominantly film and tv music I use because that is my preferred genre and I can become very evangelistic about it. I have been listening to it since I was no higher than the on/off switch on the record player but, more importantly, it covers such a wide variety of styles and approaches that I can find any mood accompaniement I want. I insist the people working in the field are among the most talented composers today because they can turn their hand to virtually anything.

I find that selecting the correct sound, or even composer if they have a distinctive style (John Barry springs to mind here), helps me hit the right tone or pace for whatever I'm writing.

Thunder Bay, my first Rebecca Connolly book, was written to John Williams' scores for The Fury and Jane Eyre as well as - poseur alert! - Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead, which was kind of on the nose given the subject matter but its sense of dark mystery was just right.

The next two in the series, The Blood is Still and A Rattle of Bones, were predominantly soundtracked by Bear McCreary's work for the TV series Outlander. The storylines of both books hark back to events surrounding the 1745 Rising in Scotland so it seemed apposite.

Debbie Wiseman and Rachel Portman were my go to composers for the fourth book, Where Demons Hide, due out in the UK next year. The tone of this one is somewhat lighter and they had just the right touch, tinged with a bit of darkness, that I needed. I also used The Dead Zone - Michael Kamen again - and The Changeling by Ken Wannberg, Howard Blake and Rick Wilkins.

My favourite composer is Jerry Goldsmith and every one of the titles above was written to something from his extensive backlist. Whatever I need - fast-paced, exciting, moving, eerie, romantic - I'll find something that fits the bill. (And as if on cue, one of his tracks - The Edge - began playing as I wrote this paragraph. Movie moment right there).

It has to be admitted that people do tend to zone out when I bang on about the subject. In fact, there will be people who perhaps have clicked away before now. I get that, I totally do. I'm like that when people talk about sport (any sport). Not sport movies, of course, because I love them. I know - go figure.

I told you I was evangelistic on the subject, even to the extent of doing a weekly radio show for a hospital radio station in Glasgow (Radio schedulers, please note - I am available to do it professionally!)

If you are interested, it's on Southern Sound every Saturday at 4pm UK time. 

Community

I’m always amazed at the sense of community I feel when I engage with other mystery writers (or writers from other genres, for that matter). This week is no exception.

I’m launching a young writers program, a summer institute for teens. Getting this program off the ground and airborne during a global pandemic hasn’t been easy, and I have lots of people to thank, among them –– my Type M colleagues.

When I put out the call for guest speakers, Rick, Frankie, Tom, and Barbara (and others) immediately offered to help out and support young writers. I wish to thank them all publicly, but also to continue a thought shared by my agent, Julia Lord, who led off the speaker series. When asked what she enjoys about her job, she immediately spoke of this sense of community, telling our young writers how she took a risk by leaving film to enter the literary field in 1985 and finding help in so many unexpected places. Hers was a story of fellowship.

I like uplifting stories, especially when I’m hoping to get young writers to pursue the literary arts. I know –– anyone reading this post knows –– the publishing business is fickle, bottom-dollar-driven and requires relentless tenacity. But within it, there are great stories to read and tell, and even better people.

In A Relationship With My Air Conditioner

 

You may have noticed, at least I hope you did, that I missed my post two weeks ago. I was out of town for the first time in a year and a half. For my first trip outside of Los Angeles County where did I choose to go? Seattle, which experienced record high temperatures while I was there. On the hottest day it was 110-115 degrees F depending on where you were in the area. That is not, let me repeat NOT, normal for the area at any time of year. A couple lanes of I-5 had to be shut down because the pavement buckled. It took a few hours to straighten that out. 

Mt. Rainier

It was incredibly hot in my mother’s house. We played games like taking an indoor thermometer around various parts of the house and seeing which room was the hottest. One of the upstairs rooms won at 105 degrees F. That wasn’t even on the hottest day. We pretty much didn’t want to know what it was on that day. We also visited various stores, noting which ones had the best air conditioning. Big Lots and JoAnn were the clear winners here.

I was going to put candy outside and see how long it took to melt, but I was just too hot to care. Besides, the local news did a number of experiments for us. They noted how long it took shredded cheese, an ice cream sandwich and various other things like that to melt. I believe it was 90 minutes, longer than I expected. They also tried baking chocolate chip cookies on a tray on the dashboard of a car. That was a several hour project, but was reasonably successful.

Fans and portable air conditioners were pretty much nowhere to be found. Luckily, my mother had one of those units you put in a window so that kept one room of the house down to a mere 80 degrees during the day. Needless, to say, we didn’t do much outside except in the early morning. One of the items we saw on Facebook was someone from the area declaring they were in a relationship with their air conditioner. Hence, the title of this post.

I’m still glad I made the trip. We were there for my mom’s 99th birthday and had a very nice visit. Just wish it hadn’t been quite so hot. The mountain was out for almost the entire week we were there. That’s Mt. Rainier for those who don’t know what that phrase means. It’s 66 miles from Kent, where I was, but is visible from there something like 90 days a year. Couldn’t find the statistic, but that’s in the ball park.

We flew from LAX to Sea-Tac, which was an interesting experience. I was a little nervous about getting on a plane. Didn’t need to show proof of vaccination or get a COVID test. Every seat was taken and everyone had to wear a mask for the entire trip as well as in the airport. That turned out to be not as bad as I expected. It was a pleasant flight both ways. On the trip back to LAX, Los Angeles required that we fill out an online form basically acknowledging L.A.’s rules once we got home. When they first started that, it was to make sure that people knew there was a 14-day self-quarantine period. But, when we flew, that quarantine period had gone away and we just acknowledged that, since we were both fully vaccinated, that we would monitor ourselves for symptoms.

California had fully opened when we left, which meant that all restaurants could be at full capacity and vaccinated people didn’t need to wear masks inside or outside except on public transportation. Washington state didn’t fully open until the day we left there, but they were pretty open when we were there. I admit it felt a little odd not wearing a mask in a store, but somehow not as odd as if I’d been in my home state.

All in all, it was a great trip. I’m glad we went, but I’m very glad to get back to more reasonable temperatures. 

 

In other news, for those of you who are attending More Than Malice, I’ll be participating in the author speed-dating event on Thursday, July 15, 4 pm Pacific/7pm Eastern. The event lasts an hour. I don’t know exactly where I’ll be in the lineup, but I’ll have 1 minute to tell everyone about my books. I’ve done this in person, which is incredibly tiring because you’re basically doing your spiel in a noisy, crowded room 20 times. This seems easier. Just hoping the internet gods smile kindly on my connection.