Frankie Bailey, John Corrigan, Barbara Fradkin, Donis Casey, Charlotte Hinger, Mario Acevedo, Shelley Burbank, Sybil Johnson, Thomas Kies, Catherine Dilts, and Steve Pease — always ready to Type M for MURDER.
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In these most novel of times, everyone has had to face new realities and new ways of doing things. Hell! We have had to come up with less than new ways of living our lives. The pandemic shutdown has locked us all in cages, nice ones if you enjoy your living quarters, but cages nonetheless.
One seemingly good offshoot of this is time. Even if you’re lucky enough to have a job where you can work from home, everyone should have more time to do things that they normally wouldn’t. If you’re unfortunately not working, well all you do have on your hands is time.
But something is going wrong.
I was speaking with a musician-friend yesterday. He was lamenting that even with hours on his hands every day, he wasn’t getting much done. Sure, he was practising a lot, but he had other musical goals (recording, arranging new pieces, learning a new recording program he’d bought, but somehow he never got around to these things in any meaningful way. “I feel completely stalled.”
That really resonated with me. I, too, seem to be spinning my tires more than would expect. Part of that is due to the curse of the internet. Even though it’s like watching a slow-moving car crash, I can’t resist reading about current events on various platforms. It’s appalling and fascinating at the same time. Like being in the middle of a great novel, I’m constantly thinking, How is this all going to end? At least we don’t have a TV…
That’s my main time-waster, but there are others. We have bird feeders right outside our back door and I can easily spend a half-hour dawdling over a cup of coffee and watching our guests — especially since a pair of Baltimore orioles arrived last week. There’s also another male hanging around, so there’s lots of chivying going on. (Birds can be really quite nasty to each other.)
You get the picture on how much time can be wasted during the day. I’m sure many of you have similar stories to tell.
So this morning I woke up and vowed that I was not going to allow myself to keep being distracted, keep myself on a schedule and actually accomplish the things I want to accomplish — and above all, not waste so much time!
First off, make a list. Always make a list when you wish to Get Things Done (that’s my mom talking).
Here’s today’s list:
Write Type M post: 1 hour
Take birthday present over to our granddaughter (she’s 4 today!): 2 hours
Practise! : 1.5 hours
Record 2 flute pieces for darling wife’s students: .5 hours
Change water in fish tank: 20 minutes
Make dinner (ratatouille): 1.25 hours
Finish song arrangement and print parts while waiting for dinner to cook: 2 hours
Get the picture? You don’t see anything on there about writing, do you? This is how all my days seem to go. Sure, it does take more time whenever you have to go out to the store. It’s not currently a matter of bopping our to the , grabbing what you need and arriving back home in under half-an-hour. It just doesn’t happen.
Something’s got to change or I won’t be able to call myself a writer anymore.
Starting today, I have a timer at my desk and I’m going to use it. Need to ? I set the timer for my budgeted time and when it goes off, I stop cold and move on to something else.
In my creative writing class that I was teaching for our local college, cut short by the pandemic, I stressed the value of ratcheting up tension as your book progresses.
Well, welcome to the real world, where the tension is rising nearly every day.
On Friday, the governor of Michigan shut down the Capitol in Lansing in fear of armed protesters. For the past week, lawmakers have been debating how to safely enable lawmakers to work and vote in session while the state’s laws allow people to bring firearms into the capitol building. The debate grew in intensity as some lawmakers read about threats to the governor’s life on social media, which were published in the Detroit Metro Times.
There’s a tense video on YouTube filmed by a female customer in a Trader Joe’s, arguing with a young worker who was trying to enforce company policy by asked the woman to wear a face mask. The discussion grew heated, the young man called the police, who never showed up, and the woman finally left. When she did, the other customers in the store applauded.
A Target employee in California ended up with a broken arm as she helped escort two customers who also refused to wear masks.
In Pennsylvania, a female convenience store clerk refused to sell a man who refused to wear a mask a pack of cigars. He punched three times in the face.
In Texas, a man was told he couldn’t ride a public bus if he didn’t put on a face mask. He shot another passenger who ended up in the hospital and the gunman was arrested.
Then in Flint, Michigan, a security guard outside a dollar story insisted that a customer wear a face mask. The guard was shot and killed.
On a much lesser note, but still ugly, I was in line at our Food Lion, wearing a mask. As the lady behind the counter checked me out and I place my groceries in my cart, I turned to put my credit card in the machine to pay. I saw a man and woman standing right next to me, neither of whom were wearing masks. I politely asked the man to please step back. In a loud belligerent voice, he said, “Where do you want me to go? The back of the store?”
Wanting to defuse the situation, I didn’t tell him where I really wanted him to go.
The poor clerk smiled sadly and told me, “Have a nice day, honey.
I’m working from home and in my spare time, I’m working on edits for my fourth mystery, Shadow Hill. But it’s difficult not to fall down an internet rabbit hole when an alert pops up on my phone letting me know when some new kernel of news has arrived. Usually it’s bad news.
It’s not productive. At some point I just switch it all off and lose myself in my work. It’s a little like a movie or a book where the tension has nearly peaked.
So my advice is that when the world serves you more tension than you think you can handle, turn it off, go for a walk or open your work in progress and lose yourself in that.
It suddenly dawned on me (Donis) that it's time for my Type M entry. I'm amazed I remembered, because as far as I know, the date is Thronday, Maprilune the twenty-oneteenth. I was wondering whether to muse on the pandemic yet again. Have we all heard enough? Then I read Barbara Fradkin's excellent entry, below. "As artists, we document the emotional reality of our times," she said, and I couldn't agree more. The great Barbara Kingsolver notes that “a novel works its magic by putting a reader inside another person’s life ... The power of fiction is to create empathy.” As an example, she says that a newspaper will give you the facts of a situation, say a plane crash, but a novel will show you just how it felt to be one of those hundreds of people who were killed in the crash.
We will convey to future generations what it felt like to live through this pandemic. Many times I've been reminded of the absolute indispensability of nurses at times like this. Doctors may get all the glory, but it's nurses who really do the work, especially when science doesn't know the answer and tender loving care is all that keeps people alive. That's the way it was during the 1918 pandemic and that's the way it is now. In 1918 there was a war going on and the government censored the pandemic news because nothing could be allowed to interfere with war production. There was no cure, anyway. No one knew why this strain of flu was so bad. A person could be well in the morning and dead by sundown. The great heroes of that time were the Red Cross volunteer nurses. When I did the research for The Return of the Raven Mocker, my historical mystery set in Oklahoma during the pandemic, I didn't have to make up any stories about the heroism of the women who took on the job of helping the sick. I just used the stories I read about in the papers and heard from family members who lived through it. Here's an excerpt from the book:
“There are fifteen of us left,” Martha said, as she showed the doctor around the makeshift command post. “Eight other volunteers have either come down with the flu themselves or decided they don’t want to risk it. We all meet up here at dawn and make our plans for the day. Usually somebody stays here at the school to make soup and deliver messages. We have tried to let folks know that they should telephone here or send a message if they need help. We have access to a telephone in the school office. We divide up house calls. We go to anybody who asks for us, but lately a couple of us will ride or walk up and down the streets looking for a red ‘X’ on the doors. That is the signal the town council decided that everyone should use to let folks know that there is influenza in the house.” "What do your nurses do for their patients when they call on them, Mrs. McCoy?” “Whatever we can. Try to see that they are clean and fed, that the house is clean and the air in the sick room is not too warm or too stale. I carry aspirin in my kit, and menthol rub, and lemons, when I can get them. My mother and some other ladies in the area make useful tonics and medicines for fever, the cough, nausea, and for diarrhea. Sometimes the best thing we can do is stay with the patients for a while, especially folks who have nobody else to look after them.” “How many in the vicinity have died?” Hattie and Martha exchanged a glance. Often when they knocked at houses with the sign, no one would come to the door. Sometimes someone inside would yell at her through the door, or gesture to her from behind a closed window. Go away. We’re better. Don’t bring more illness to this house. Other times no one would come to the door because no one could. Martha could tell the difference by the smell. Her nose had become acutely sensitive to the odor of sickness. In that case she would simply open the door and walk in, praying that she would find everyone ill but still alive. She wasn’t always so lucky. On the day that she and Cousin Hattie revved up Scott’s touring car and made the circuit of nearby farms, they found that both Fosters and their five children had all succumbed during the night. The women wrapped the bodies in blankets, dragged them into the parlor, and laid them on the floor in a row for the convenience of the gravediggers. Then they filled a washtub with well water, washed themselves with carbolic soap as best as they could, took another dose of garlic honey, and drove to the next farm. “I don’t believe any of us have wanted to take a count. There have been several,” Martha said.
If they lived through it, the women (and it was mostly women then) who voluntarily put themselves in danger in 1918 suffered shell-shock afterwards just like soldiers who had done battle. So here it is 2020 and we're living through our own version of a little-understood plague. Screw the politicians and protestors. We know who the real heroes are here.
For weeks now, our Type M blog posts have circled around the central player in our lives - the pandemic. We have talked about the inability to write, the question of whether to include the pandemic in our stories, the lament over lost opportunities to celebrate and promote our books, and the ups and downs of our moods. As I tried to figure out what to say today, I thought "Can anyone stand one more blog about the damn pandemic?" Are we sick of it? Do we want our lives back? Can't we at least pretend things will go back to normal?
Then I realized this is our job. As artists we document the emotional reality of our times. Economists will talk about job losses, stock market rollercoasters, and accumulating debt. Scientists will talk about advances in virology and herd immunity, epidemiologists about infection curves and deaths per million, etc. Social scientists will analyze lockdown fatigue, crowd contagion, and the delicate balance of maintaining public cooperation. Ecologists will describe the return of the animals and the blue of the sky.
All important for the historical record. We are living through possibly the most significant global event in a century, in terms of its scope and impact on every single person (and indeed on nature and the planet). Other crises have had a more drastic effect on specific parts of the world, such as the world wars, the Holocaust, and the Khmer Rouge. And even then, much of normal life went on in the streets and towns. But this crisis is against a single enemy worldwide, and has changed almost every aspect of our daily lives, from hugging our families to trying to buy yeast.
People's experiences and reactions are all over the map, and as several posts have already pointed out, they change from day to day and evolve over time. Artists have always been a mirror to our inner life. Psychologists and other mental health researchers are going to dissect our adjustment and struggles minutely. They are going to subject us to surveys and statistical analyses and possibly even experimental re-enactments. All this is going to be very valuable for future planning, but trust me, as someone who worked in that field for years, it's going to be dry as dust. It will not bring to life the essence of being alone on Mother's Day, staring at your one-year old grandson trying to eat the phone his parents are using for Zoom. It will not capture the sound of your silent wail. Nor the hummingbird restlessness you feel some days after listening to too much news. Shall I bake cupcakes? Watch Netflix? Or even, horrors, wash the floors?
The blogs, poems, paintings, and short isolation videos that artists are producing all over the world will serve as a record of our times, a mirror of our feelings and thoughts at the moment we go through them. And any books that come out of it, whether about the pandemic or not, will be a testament to these times. So feel free to create and to put it out there, to be shared online across the world. Someone will be listening, and equally important, history will be listening.
I’ve got some things on today that will prevent me from writing a post this week — in fact, I should have posted this early since I knew what would be going on.
Anyway, I will be back with more deathless prose next week, full of cogent thinking and sparkling ideas. Ha!
Having your life so suddenly constricted has been a curious and, in an abstract sort of way, interesting experience. Before I say anything else, I need to declare my privilege - I have a comfortable home, a nice garden, endlessly helpful neighbors, a supportive family and a husband whom, even after almost fifty years I actually like.
So when I say that some of the results of lockdown are beneficial, I'm all too aware that this doesn't apply to everyone. And certainly, for the first two or three weeks I was to some degree in shock, finding it hard to concentrate or settle to anything. There was a frantic scrabble to arrange the practicalities of life and all I could think about was whether we would have milk, or butter or eggs. Toilet rolls, not so much.
It struck me this was similar to the pattern in some of my books where the character has been hit unexpectedly by tragic life events - a murder, say. There is the
initial shock of bereavement, then the hectic pace of practical
arrangements and investigations before the emptiness and the slow adjustment to life as it has to be in
future. I will have more insight into that in the future.
But as a wise friend of mine once said, 'You cannot sustain crisis.' However hard something is at first, sooner or later the rhythm of life reasserts itself. I'm back to working my normal hours again and slowly the book is taking shape. The hours I would have spent on traveling, entertaining, shopping and socialising are empty now.
The weather here, for a Scottish summer, has been amazing - weeks and weeks that have been dry and sunny. As I sat in the garden watching leaves unfurl and new flowers appear every day for, I think, pretty much the first time in a busy life, I felt time slow to a crawl.
I've never been much of a one for personal introspection. I've never forgotten what my mother said when I was an angst-ridden teenager, 'If you spend your time looking inwards, you'll find it's like peeling an onion - when you take off the last layer there's nothing left.' I've found it good advice, but
there has been something very soothing about having the time to let thoughts unfold like the leaves.
It has helped to keep me cheerful - mainly. Though today is a bit hard: as I write this, I
should have been in London rehearsing for a scratch performance of the
Mozart Requiem in the Royal Albert Hall. ( small sob.)
Colorado is now in a "partial reopening." I don't have the slightest idea what to do. The prohibitions have been in place just long enough to scare the hell out of me and change my behavior.
My state of mind isn't helped much by the dire news accounts of angry customers shooting clerks trying to enforce their company's mask policy.
I've convinced that we will never return to the "old" normal. We certainly didn't after 9/11. It was a whole new ball game. We learned to accept tightened security measures and inspections. The "new normal" back then became policing children's safety at school and an enormous increase in people carrying guns. We were forced to absorb one mass shooting after another. Our country continued to function under the new rules. We became suspicious and vigilant. We also became more anxious.
As is the case with most writers, self-isolation isn't as hard on me as it for people with extroverted personalities, although last Monday I went back to the regular routines that have always served me well. It was time to stop lying around.
Nevertheless, I'm feeling very vulnerable. I'm diabetic and if my miserable allergic responses to spring are any indication, I certainly have a compromised immune system. My age doesn't help ether.
This week I wrestled with melancholy. I was struck by our blogmaster, Rich Blechta's post. He said that nearly every musician was unemployed. I was stricken with the awareness that I couldn't go to Rocky Grass this year. It won't be happening! I recalled all the dances I've attended--the joy of music and concerts. Even if the events take place, I won't feel safe attending venues with large groups of people.
God speed to all the scientists who are struggling to develop a vaccine.
2020 marks 90 years since Nancy Drew’s first appearance and she doesn’t show any sign of stopping. (Okay, well, there is the graphic novel, Nancy Drew & The Hardy Boys: The Death of Nancy Drew, but we’ll talk about that later.)
Being a big fan of Ms. Drew, I decided to read her debut novel, The Secret of the Old Clock, in both its original 1930 version and the revised 1959 version, the one I remember reading when I was a kid. And, of course, I had to analyze the differences because, well, I love doing stuff like that. Some of you may remember a previous post here on Type M where I analyzed the differences between the original and revised versions of The Clue of the Leaning Chimney. You can find that here.
This analytical exercise suits me right now. It calms me down, brings a smile to my face and keeps me sane in this corona virus world we live in. So here we go...
First the statistics. The 1930 version is 25 chapters and 210 pages long. The 1959 version is 20 chapters and 180 pages.
In all of the original versions, Nancy is 16 years old and, apparently, has finished school. She runs the household for her father and occasionally does errands for him. They have a maid, Hannah, but Nancy’s the one in charge. “On the death of her mother six years before, she had taken the entire management of the establishment.” Quite a feat since Nancy was 10 years old at the time!
In the newer versions, she’s 18 and has finished high school. Hannah has been upgraded to housekeeper. She runs the household so Nancy is free as a bird to do her sleuthing.
I’ve always thought that River Heights, the town where Nancy lives, is in the mid-west somewhere though I don’t remember ever seeing that in the newer books. But in the 1930 book, Nancy is “a true daughter of the Middle West” and takes great pride “in the fertility of her State and saw beauty in a crop of waving green corn as well as in the rolling hills and the expanse of prairie land.” Sounds like the mid-west to me! But then they mention the Muskoka River, which seems to be a river in Canada, so maybe she’s been a Canadian all this time and I never knew!
The story line in both books is basically the same: Josiah Crowley dies leaving a will that gives all of his considerable fortune to a really, really annoying and undeserving family, the Tophams. But there are reports he drew up a new will when he died, naming far more deserving people as his heirs, and hid it somewhere. (Could it be in an old clock, perchance?) Nancy, of course, finds the will and the more deserving people get life-saving money. On a side note, Josiah Crowley’s wife in the 1930 version was said to have died in the 1918 flu epidemic. Seems rather timely given the current state of the world.
There are quite a few differences between the books. The 1930 version starts with Nancy talking to her father about the Tophams and saying what a shame it was that they inherited a lot of money. The 1959 version starts with Nancy driving her dark blue convertible along a road and witnessing a child fall off a wall. She, of course, stops and saves her. That’s how she meets the Turner sisters who are a couple of the deserving people who should have inherited. The topic of the will is brought up here. It also introduces the storyline involving thieves who steal silver and what not from unsuspecting people. She’ll meet up later with them when they’re stealing furniture etc. from deserted summer homes on Moon Lake. We don’t find out about the thieves in the 1930 version until Nancy meets up with them at the Topham’s summer cottage.
In the original version, Nancy doesn’t save a child. There’s not even a child in the story. She also doesn’t save a dog like she does in the 1959 version. Not sure why they added those bits, but maybe they just wanted to immediately portray her as a good person, hence the saving of the child in the first scene and the dog later.
They made a few other changes to Nancy’s personality. Later in the story, Nancy is in possession of the old clock mentioned in the title. She got it out of the moving van of the thieves. In the 1930 version she hides this fact from the police while in the 1959 version she fesses up. Also, in the 1930 version she doesn’t mention to her father the real reason she wants to go to a camp on Moon Lake (sleuthing!), but she's aboveboard in the 1959 version. I suppose they didn't want to give young girls any bad ideas. She'd become a role model by then, after all.
There might be a few differences in her personality between the editions, but she’s still capable of changing her own tire and fixing a boat engine in both books.
But, I don’t know what it is about having Nancy drive her car. In the older books no man suggests he should drive her car, they just hop in the passenger seat and away Nancy goes. But, in the 1959 book, a police officer offers to drive. At least he doesn’t insist. It’s not quite as bad as “The Clue of the Leaning Chimney” where Ned drives her car pretty much every time they drive somewhere together. Yes, people, Nancy can drive!
Another difference between the versions was in the profession of one of the young women. In the 1930 version, she keeps chickens and wants to expand to having a chicken farm, but needs money to do that. In the 1959 version she has a lovely voice and wants to be a singer, but needs money for lessons. An interesting change in story line.
There are some other differences that are probably because the story is moved to a different time period.
The woman in the book who is described as older is over 80 in the newer version instead of being over 70.
A $100 bill is used in 1959 instead of a $20 bill
The caretaker of a house on Moon Lake in 1930 is black (not described that way, btw) and is just described as elderly in the newer version. Here is one place where I think the story was much improved. The way the caretaker in the 1930 version was portrayed and gotten out of the way by the thieves was quite racist. The way they got him out of the way in the 1959 version was much more believable.
There’s a shootout between the police and the thieves in the 1930 version that Nancy witnesses! (Hard not to think of the potential for our heroine getting shot.) No guns in the 1959 version, thank goodness.
Procedures for how they get access to a safe deposit box are different and more detailed.
So those are my thoughts on the differences in The Secret of the Old Clock.
While I was immersed in the books, I did some googling and discovered a couple interesting things. First, there’s a Nancy Drew Mystery Podcast hosted by two women, one who read Nancy as a kid, one who didn’t. I listened to their thoughts on the Old Clock, which was quite fun. They only read the 1959 version. I wonder what they would have thought if they’d read the original as well. You can learn more about the podcast here: https://nancysmysterypod.podbean.com/
At the end of the podcast, they played the song “Nancy Drew” by Kathy Johnson. (With her permission.) It’s quite fun and catchy. I may start singing it around the house! You can listen to it here:
The other thing I discovered was this graphic novel Nancy Drew & The Hardy Boys: The Death of Nancy Drew. Apparently, Nancy is killed and the Hardy Boys investigate her murder! No, say it isn’t so! That’s all I know about it. For all I know, Nancy faked her death and is helping the boys investigate the mob or something.
Still, there’s a bit of controversy about this graphic novel. They’ve been accused of comic “fridging”. This is where a female character is injured, raped, killed or depowered, used as a plot device to move a male character’s story forward. That’s putting a female character “into a refrigerator”. Hadn’t heard of that one before. Probably because I’m not into graphic novels at all. Thought it very interesting though.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my Nancy Drew musings. Now, I think I’ll learn the words to that Nancy Drew song.
Over the years I’ve become more and more aware of this defect. There has been many a conversation that I’ve totally dominated. It’s not done out of conceit or an I_don’t-care-a-fig-about-you attitude. I just get on a topic and roll with it. Afterwards I kick myself in the behind for being a social jerk.
But I’m trying to do better, honest I am!
If there’s one good thing that’s happened to me during this time of pandemic, it’s that I’ve had the chance to really hone my listening skills, to learn to step back and let other people lead a conversation.
Why has this happened? It’s all due to video conferencing software.
No matter the platform, be it FaceTime, Skype, Zoom, Google Meet, Houseparty — I could go on but you get the picture, I’m sure — the way they all work is only one person at a time can speak. When multiple speak, everything becomes incomprehensible as the software struggles to handle multiple feeds when it can only handle one at a time. If you’ve been on one of these, you know what I mean. It just doesn’t work.
Over the past two months, I’ve taken part in professional meetings, get-togethers with colleagues and friends, and conversations with my family. There has even been a birthday party.
For some reason, I find myself pulling back on all these occasions and only contributing a comment or statement here and there. On occasion people have asked me if anything is wrong or if something isbothering me. (I guess my listening continence looks rather dour.)
It’s only that I’m listening, really concentrating on what’s being said and who is saying it and how. Maybe I feel a bit as if I’m on the outside looking in. I don’t know.
But it has been illuminating.
I find it interesting to observe how idiosyncratically everyone speaks. They have a consistent rhythm if you will to how they express themselves. Taking it a step further, I’ve found myself thinking, How would I craft dialogue for this person?
Anyone who writes well knows that dialogue taken down verbatim seldom works well on the printed page. People don’t speak in full sentences, and those sentences will often jump the track and take a completely different direction — sometimes multiple times. (I’m thinking of a certain world leader here.) It can often lead to confusion for the reader.
If I were trying to write that down to include it in a novel, I’d have to alter it in order to try to make everything comprehensible to a reader.
People also ramble when they speak — heaven knows I suffer from this affliction — and so judicious pruning is often required or the writer risks readers losing interest, the “get-on-with-it” syndrome is what I call this.
So if you’re on a video conference with me and I’m just sitting there not moving, seldom speaking, and with a dour expression on my face, just know that what I’m doing is re-writing what you’re saying so that it would make good dialogue in a novel.
Not that I would ever actually use something like that!
Bad boys and bad girls…why do we like them so much?
During this time of quarantine, my wife and I are binging on shows we’ve found on both Hulu and Netflix. We just finished season three of Ozark and we’re in the middle of season two of Killing Eve.
Both have antiheroes who are the lead characters.
In Ozark, the program focuses on a married couple who are laundering money for a drug cartel. They started out as nearly normal in episode one of the first season, but as the program progresses, the fall deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. In order to save their lives, they had to break the law. But as the show unfolds, they’re clearly outstanding at what they do and, to a degree, are enjoying it.
In Killing Eve, the show is about an MI6 operative who is chasing down an international assassin. While Eve, the operative, is interesting, it’s Villanelle, the killer, who is endlessly fascinating. Villanelle has a childish quality and is a charming psychopath.
Then again, so was Ted Bundy.
Tony Soprano from the HBO series The Sopranos. Walter White from Breaking Bad. Don Draper from Mad Men. All antiheroes.
A few literary antiheroes? Jay Gatsby, Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Tom Ripley, Lestat de Lioncourt from Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles.
How about James Bond? He’s an assassin with a license to kill, drinks heavily, likes to gamble, and is an incessant womanizer.
What about anti eroes draws us to them? I think it’s their depth of character. I’ve written that a protagonist can’t be too perfect or they’re deadly dull. They have to have flaws to make them human.
For an anti hero those flaws are much more pronounced. And in many cases, becoming an anti hero was the result of a noble cause. Walter White in Breaking Bad learns he has terminal lung cancer and wants to leave a financial legacy for his family so he turns to cooking meth and selling it. And he becomes damned good at it. And through the course of the show, devolves more and more into a monster.
So, an antihero should be good at what they do. Don Draper was an awesome ad guy. Tony Soprano would do most anything for his family and he was adept at staying one step ahead of his enemies.
In all of their cases, they can rationalize their bad behavior because they think they’re doing it for a good reason.
And when I talked about depth of character it can also mean being colorful. Of the two female lead characters in Killing Eve, the MI6 operative starts as a boring but likable protagonist. As she chases her killer quarry, her behavior becomes more and more questionable and I’ve found that she's becoming more interesting. More like the assassin.
The second lead in that series, Villanelle, started as a colorful character and never lets up. When she kills a target, it’s macabre theater.
In the end, we're fascinated with antiheroes because they’re damned entertaining.
Just as a side note, years ago I wrote a thriller where the lead character was an antihero. He worked as a bartender in a strip club, was dating one of the strippers, and in his spare time he was a con artist. One of his cons gets him in trouble the Mob and he and his girlfriend have to go on the run.
I never found an agent for the book and it was never published.
However, the agent I’m working with now told me that she recalled reading the first fifty pages of the book when I'd submitted it to her. Then she said that the reason her agency didn’t take it on was that she immediately didn’t like the lead character.
Writing anti heroes is a tricky business. So, who is your favorite antihero?
I used a balled up piece of aluminum foil to clean a casserole dish after I burned what I was baking. As I was rising my sparking clean dish, I thought of this character who was known for unconventional solutions to problems at hand.
I'll hum while the theme music of this game show plays and you think.
Did you get it?
The character is "MacGyver", and the game show is Jeopardy.
I really did use that ball of Reynolds Wrap to clean my oven-ready casserole dish. As I was cleaning I couldn't remember the magazine that had offered me "10 clever ways to use aluminum foil." What I did remember was MacGyver. I felt really clever when the mess cleaned right up -- clever because I had remembered -- and I thought again about my long list of things I'd like to know how to do.
Never having been a Girl Scout, I have a small collection of those hardcover books for children with the instructions on how to do things like start a fire without matches or find your way in the woods. I also have a go-to book for adults -- The US Army Survival Manual. In fact, my protagonist, Lizzie Stuart, has read the Army's guide to surviving in challenging situations. She is engaged to a man who was an Army Ranger, a military police officer, and a homicide detective. He also has a master's degree in criminal justice and FBI training. Lizzie likes people who know how to do things. She finally learned how to swim because he does and she thought it was time she overcame her fear of the water. And wouldn't you know that at some point that knowledge would come in handy. Two books later, after mentioning in that book in the next that she was taking swimming classes, she found herself in danger of a watery death. She wasn't ready for the Olympics, but she was able to do what she needed to do..
But I started this post intending to write about iconic characters like MacGyver or Sherlock Holmes or Adrian Monk. Characters who are so unique or groundbreaking that if you mention their name that's sufficient to explain what you mean. For example, I can say to a friend of mine that I had a "Monk moment" when I dropped something on my kitchen floor and she knows exactly why I threw out my expensive steak instead of rinsing it off and cooking it.
I don't know about you, but I would love to have a character like the one whose name comes to mind when someone says, "I went down the rabbit hole." I still go down that rabbit hole with Alice. That book was one of the inspirations for my near-future police procedural, The Red Queen Dies.
Who makes your list of iconic characters? Alice was the only female character I mentioned, but there are others. However, I have to get to work. My notifications are popping up.
Here's a list of some of the things I've resolved to do during the quarantine:
Make pancakes.
Learn Italian.
Get back to my drawing and guitar/piano playing.
Start another book.
Have I done any of those? Well, yes, all of them. Kind of, in a desultory way. Just don't ask about housecleaning.
I find it fascinating to read the entries that my blogmates and other writers share about their time in lockdown. I have to admit that I feel better about my own lack of progress on … anything … when I see that others are struggling as well. It didn't help me feel better about myself when I watched a Poisoned Pen Bookstore Facebook video interview with author Jenn McKinlay this morning. She was touting the release of her twelfth cupcake shop mystery, Pumpkin Spice Peril. This is like, her 40th book in the past decade, and they're all good. Jenn has two teenaged sons and a husband and more energy than anyone has a right to have and manages three, four, five books a year, most reaching the NYT bestseller list.
As for me, not so much. I've recently finished writing a book, Valentino Will Die, the second in the Adventures of Bianca Dangereuse series. Sadly, it was originally scheduled to come out in November 2020, but I was recently notified that the publication date has been pushed back to February 2021. I’m disappointed, but by that time, I hope I’ll have the third book ready to go, so maybe there won’t be such a gap between books. We'll see. I usually have a period of complete blankness after I finish a book, and this hang-fire period of corona virus quarantine doesn't help my thinking processes. I’m pretty pleased by the way Valentino turned out, so I hope you’ll like it, Dear Reader. In the interim, I’m cogitating about starting another Alafair Tucker mystery. Wish me luck in coming up with a great story idea. These days I feel lucky if I manage to get out of bed before ten.
There was a starred review in the April 15 Booklist for the audio version of the first Bianca Dangereuse tale, The Wrong Girl, read by the talented Romy Nordlinger! Here’s an excerpt of the review:
“Nordlinger easily depicts lecherous cads and despicable older men and fluidly differentiates between the female leads: a childlike, inexperienced 17-year-old; a spoiled, privileged, but big-hearted star; and a stabilizing, practical assistant with a bare hint of a Southern Black accent. More impressively, she subtly shows each woman’s voice variations over time, reflecting in phrasings and darkening tonalities their changes in attitudes and expectations, as well as discoveries of unexpected capabilities and strengths as Blanche/Bianca’s life unfolds—leaving readers impatient for the sequel.”
Stay safe, read lots of books, and wash your hands.
Recent posts (including my own) have noted that the pandemic has changed our work as writers in many ways. For many of us, our concentration and focus are shot. We find ourselves easily distracted and sidetracked by Facebook and email alerts, news bulletins hovering just behind our manuscript, and a general feeling of restless malaise that drives us to the fridge or the window several times an hour.
We also wrestle with whether to include the pandemic and its aftermath in our work in progress, which will likely come out in 18 - 24 months. It is difficult to pretend the huge upheaval we are living through did not exist. But it's also difficult to know what the world will look like by then, so we are trying to imagine and write about a world that is still out of sight. In addition, will the concerns and struggles of our characters – indeed the central drama of the book – seem irrelevant and perhaps even trivial in the brave new world our future readers will be living in? Right now, as I write my novel, it certainly feels like that.
Or is it possible that reading a story that contains no reference to the pandemic, that transports us back to that flawed but normal world we used to know, will be a welcome relief? Who knows?
So I am proceeded at a snail's pace through my first draft, writing in fits and starts as I feel my way forward and avoid the mental distractions and sloth we have all been experiencing. As if that isn't difficult enough, I've encountered yet another problem with writing in the pandemic age. I am a realistic writer. I research as thoroughly as I can the locations and details I am writing about. The Internet is an extremely useful tool but it is no substitute for real-life location scouting and interviews with experts, etc. I am used to visiting locations, talking to locals, and walking though all the steps my characters take. I am used to going to the source to verify police, coroner, and scene of the crime procedures.
Researching my Alberta book, THE ANCIENT DEAD
I can't do much of that now. I wanted to visit the Ottawa courthouse not only to get the lay of the land but also to attend a trial and watch how the lawyer and police worked, what they wore, etc. None of that can happen now. I wanted to visit Ontario Provincial Police detachments in nearby rural communities and talk to the local staff on the ground about how they would respond to certain situations, how resources would be deployed, how they would liaise with the specialist teams, etc. I can phone, but a cold call in the middle of a pandemic will likely not garner much cooperation. First responders are probably busy and focussed on other (more important) things.
I wanted to stroll through the small villages, poke around for potential burial sites, and talk to people, but that too is now a challenge. In the old days, my questions would have roused curiosity and a good laugh, but now... Who knows what kind of feelings I might be treading on?
Rural village in my latest book
I managed to do some of the research before the writing began, but more questions always come up as the story evolves. So all I can do not is rely on Mr. Google and my imagination, make the stuff up, and hope I can fact-check before the final manuscript has to be submitted.
My final plan will be to apologize in the acknowledgements and blame the pandemic for all the things I got wrong. This too is an evolving story.
I’ve got more on the whole non-permission book piracy thing.
First off, I heard back from Linwood Barclay. I won’t share the exact email response he sent to my query — it’s rather tart and too-the-point — but I can say he found what I told him “outrageous” and he was going to contact them immediately.
Apparently he was more successful than I’ve been (in many ways!) because his novels that were on the site are now completely gone. Good for you, Linwood! You’re my new hero.
I’m going to find a friendly lawyer — since I play in a big band, the Advocats, that has several — to get a letter crafted that Internet Archive will be inclined to obey.
Now the Hidden Gems site is for helping authors get reviews of electronic ARCs (Advance Reading Copies) of their works. They charge for this service. If you wish to poke around the site, you will quickly see how it works. It seems that the focus in on individual authors to sign up for some easy self-promotion. It seems a bit pricey considering all the service provides is reviews, and obviously, you’d only want to use the good ones. Also anyone can review these ARCs, so they don’t carry the weight of a review by a professional (i.e.: paid) reviewer.
'We would be sorry if our wishes were gratified.' Aesop.
'Beware, my lord! Beware lest heaven hate you enough to hear your prayers!' (French novel, 1881)
'When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.' (Oscar Wilde).
We can't say they didn't warn us. Yet how many times did the words, 'I wish I had more time!' pass our lips? With an irony that the most sadistic satirist couldn't better, we've got our wish. Now we have time. Lots of it.
I can remember when I started writing I had so many demands on my time that I could write only in short snatches - a couple of hours, here and there, if I was lucky. A long, uninterrupted session with my new book was an almost unimaginable luxury.
When we went on holiday my treat was to be allowed to get up at six when no one else was allowed to come downstairs till nine. This was when we had a favourite French gite that we went to for years; it had a wonderful terasse looking out over a peaceful valley. It was chilly at that time with just the first light of dawn and I sat working with a rug over my lap as the bats went home to roost in the abri - Mmme la Voisine thought I was crazy, shaking her head as she handed fresh peaches over the wall. The valley would turn golden before me as the sun came up while the only interruptions as I scribbled as fast as I could to get the story out of my head and on to the laptop would be the calls of the golden orioles, the tree-creeper to watch on the ash in front of me and occasionally the kee of a Bonelli's eagle that would have me jumping up with my binoculars to see it as it regularly patrolled its patch.
Today, there's no reason why I shouldn't spend eight hours working on my new book. But I won't. Will you?
We all complain about stress, but psychologists tell us that a certain amount of stress is good for us. It's usually what prompts us to action and when it's removed we're at risk of that medieval mental illness, accidie, defined as spiritual or mental sloth.
'Granting our wish is one of fate's saddest jokes,' said James Russell Lowell.
I imagine a lot of you are like me, stuck in this lockdown with the passing time smearing into a blur. Here in Colorado I think we're into week six or is it seven...eight?
To cope with the anxiety of the quarantine and the virus and the economy, I've been channeling my thoughts into a cartoon series called Cats In Quarantine.
You can follow the daily offerings on my Twitter feed, my Facebook page, or on Instagram.
But this economic meltdown did present an opportunity, of sorts. Earlier this week, when oil dropped to less than a dollar a barrel, I got the great idea of making lots and lots of money. I'd buy the oil now when it's dirt cheap and hang onto it until after the economy opens up. People will start driving. Airlines will be flying. The economy will be moving again, literally. When that happens, then oil will shoot back up to $40, $50, $60 a barrel. Buy low. Sell high. I'd be rich. Not Jeff Bezos rich but further ahead than where I am now. Then a friend with experience as a professional trader explained to me using short sentences and small words the folly of my plan. As background, if you looked at my bank account and my standard of living you'd see that my financial acumen is on the shy side of dazzling. Turns out that oil is a commodity and when you buy oil, you are buying an actual quantity of oil. You can't hang on to that oil for long unless you take physical possession. Which is why you have dudes scheming to lease tankers brimming with cheap oil and holding on to them until the price is right. There are instruments such as oil options, oil futures, oil EFTs, and others, and my friend cautioned that the road to financial ruin is paved with guys and their visions of easy money. And to underscore how perilous gambling on the stock market can be, the Wall Street Journal ran a brief article where US Senators - a class of people you'd think would have their thumb well positioned on the pulse of the financial world - have a worse track record than the regular investor. So my plans for quick bucks went poof!
This morning I looked up all the details for Clay's Compromise of 1850. It has five parts. I forget what they are already. Also, I'm sure you will all be interested in the exact Latin translation of mea culpa. Did you know that it's really too early to plant canna bulbs?
Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 B.C. and not only made everyone in Rome mad, he left us with cute phrases such as "crossing the Rubicon," and "the die is cast." When contact makers ask for "power" on their on-line prescription form it doesn't match up with anything on the optometrists sheet.
Last week I finished a really hard book review about an academic book, When Sunflowers Bloomed Red. It was hard because the editor only allowed 150 words for a really complex book. I also joyfully jumped right into the edits for my very short novella. It took me one day.
And now. . .clearly I'm descending into some kind of Google craziness wherein it seems really, vitally, extremely important to look up something this very minute.
Oddly enough I have all kinds of essential household projects I could be doing. I want to go through all my files and papers before I die. I want to finish quilts for my grandchildren. And oh yeah, the photos. But I can't get motivated.
One of my very best and most admired writing friends once told me "writers who aren't writing are prey to a sort of free-form anxiety."
Little did she know that writers who swear they don't mind the coronavirus isolation are even more susceptible to Google Fever, and electronic consumption in general.
Is there anyone out there who is taking advantage of this social sequestering to complete all the tasks they have put off in the past?
I live and work at a New England boarding school. To say COVID-19 has impacted the school and my work in it would be a gross understatement. I’m charged with overseeing a dorm of 60 teenagers and an English department of 15 teachers. That means many, many face-to-face conversations, meetings, and classroom observations.
However, I write this post seated in a four-story brick dorm designed for 220 teenagers that now sits empty. Wondering the halls makes me feel like I’m in a scene from The Shining. Worse, students’ belongings remain in their rooms (they left for spring break unaware that they would not return). “Teaching” these days means talking into my computer via ZOOM from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. The sports fields are empty. The theater is dark. The library is locked. The faculty is sequestered at home. A post-apocalyptic experience.
And I must say that I feel blessed to be here. I can get outside, walk the dog for 30 minutes, and not see a soul.
All the while, I’m writing the final scenes of a new book. It is set at a boarding school (I know, don’t say it, at least I can claim to write what I know). How much of the current pandemic should be in the book? I’m one year and 450 pages into it. When I began writing it, boarding school life, at least parts of it, resembled the way it was three, four, even five decades ago. “Kid work,” that is, the social interactions we make time for –– checking on students, reading the nonverbal cues, the body language –– was done face-to-face. But when I start final revisions (fingers crossed, in a week or two), I absolutely will add references to the pandemic. It has changed the way we deliver instruction and has changed the culture within this small society. “Kid work” now is done via Zoom, via text message. And the new normal will continue to evolve.
Of course, the pandemic goes far beyond the tiny world in which I live and write. Societal changes are happening hourly. In a scene I just completed, my antagonist needed to enter a building undetected. He had to be incognito. It dawned on me that given a book’s publication timeline, i.e. sale to shelf (will we still have bookshelves post-COVID-19 or will Jeff Bezos simply send me a Kindle reading list?), I’m actually writing for the book to be read 12 to 18 month from now. Why not have the character wear an M95 mask, sunglasses, and a hoodie? A year from now, it probably won’t be striking to see someone wearing a mask on a New England city street.
The world in which my day-to-day life and work takes place has been upended by this coronavirus, and the fictional world I’m writing about has, too.
To write the pandemic into your book or not to write the pandemic into your book.
Cozies are my comfort food and my favorite kind of mystery. As you might guess, I’ve been reading a lot of them lately.
Most, if not all, cozies are series. I can’t think of a single cozy that was written as a standalone. Some series might be only two or three books long, while others can run to well over twenty. However long the series, there’s an unspoken contract to the reader about its content: no extreme violence, no sex scenes, the emphasis is on the investigation and, at the end, the killer is identified and brought to justice.
I’d like to add another one to this list: While a crime from a previous book in the series might be mentioned in a later book, the perpetrator and solution to that previous crime should not be revealed or even hinted at.
At least, that’s what I expect when I read a series. I think most cozy authors think the same way I do. Of course, this doesn’t matter as much if you read a series starting with the first book, but not everyone does that.
I admit to being one of those people who, for various reasons, reads a series out of order. Generally, I prefer to read from the beginning, but sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. I might get a free book at a conference or receive a book as a gift or buy a book because I like the title/story line/cover.
In my own Aurora Anderson series, I’ve tried to keep this in mind. I spend a fair amount of time thinking about what needs to be said to keep the reader oriented but, at the same time, not reveal too much, ruining the previous books for them. I want a reader to be able to pick up any of my books and enjoy the story even if they’ve never read the ones before it. There’s often a fine line between saying too little and revealing too much. I think I’ve largely been successful. At least reviews of my later books from readers who are new to the series tell me that.
But I’ve noticed in my recent reading that not all cozy writers seem to think the same way I do. I read one book that I think didn’t explain enough. A single line of explanation would have gotten rid of my confusion without giving anything away. I didn’t worry about it too much and kept on reading, ending up generally understanding the story. Still, I would have liked that sentence.
I read another series recently that had the opposite problem—revealing way too much. I don’t understand why the writer chose to reveal pretty much the entire plot of the previous books in the series including the killers. It wasn’t necessary to understand the characters or plot line of the book I was reading. Luckily, I actually had read the series from the beginning so it didn’t spoil anything for me. I still found it concerning and annoying that so much was revealed.
My appeal to cozy writers out there – please, please, please realize that not all readers read your series form the beginning and plan accordingly.
Here is the email I sent on April 15th in response to their original email that said “lending access has been disabled for the URL(s) identified”:
Good morning,
I'm sorry, but I just checked your website and all of the books listed below still seem to be available for lending. I did not try to download since I do not want to sign up to your site.
I would like my books completely removed from the website, please.
I look forward to your response.
Sincerely,
Rick Blechta
A short while later, I received this response:
Hello,
Thank you for your email. The ebook items were removed from National Emergency Library (no waitlists) and the Internet Archive's general library lending program (one user can check out a held copy at a time). They now are available only to blind and print-disabled patrons.
For such listings, blind and print-disabled patrons may access special electronic versions of the book that can be used with accessible software. The Treaty of Marrakesh outlines conditions under which book access may be expanded to the blind in signatory countries (the World Blind Union's take on that legislation and use rights for blind access is here). Users agree not to make copies or distribute materials (one option allows users to download scans and use them for a limited time with DRM to protect against copying). Our program to enable blind and print-disabled access has been in operation since 2010 (see our original press release).
Again, thank you for your email. If you have continuing objections or questions, please let us know.
--
The Internet Archive Team
Luckily I know some lawyers who put me on to others whose practices deal with this stuff. I was basically told that Internet Archive is definitely on the windy side of the law on this. However, if I wish to pursue this there is likely only one option: a lawsuit. There’s no way I have enough money to go through that. “Well, then you have to hope that one of the big publishers will take them on.”
So back I went to the Internet Archive site for further research. I looked up five very successful crime writers I know: Peter Robinson, Louise Penny, Ian Rankin, Michael Connelly and Linwood Barclay.
Not surprisingly, most of these authors’ novels are not on the website, just a scattered one here and there. Could this be because their publishers’ have dealt with this and IA complied because they know there are sufficient resources behind these requests that they risk being sued? I wonder…
There is one exception, however: Linwood Barclay. IA offers 12 of his novels. I’ve written to Linwood to ask a) if he knows about this, and b) if he has given his permission to offer the books, also what his thoughts might be.
Stay tuned. I am going to send IA one more request to remove my books completely. Hopefully I’ll also hear from Linwood in the meantime.
I’m facing two problems with my newest writing project.
One: Should I incorporate the pandemic into my plot? Should I make reference to it?
Two: What will life be like in a year from now?
I have a hunch that wearing masks will become ubiquitous, much like it always has been in Asia.
I also believe that shaking hands will become a thing of the past.
And once this is over, I’m guessing there will be a glut of office space that will become available. Companies will have proof that their employees can function quite nicely from home.
Teleconferencing has already become the new normal.
Will people be carrying around cards proving that they’ve either tested normal or tested that they have had the virus and have built up immunity? Will those people be the only ones who will be able to go to work, socialize in a bar, or dine in a restaurant?
I recently sent my latest book, Shadow Hill, to my publisher. Of course I’m always on pins and needles until I hear back from her. You’re hoping that your work is good, but in the back of your mind, you’re worried sick that they’ll think it’s trash. When I started writing Shadow Hill, it was easily a year ago. No one had even heard of Covid-19.
So, there is absolutely no mention of it in the manuscript. Not one word.
In the book, people shake hands, they have face to face meetings, they have drinks together, and they have sex.
In writing the new book, I hate to think that my protagonist might be forced to conduct her investigation and do an interview from her kitchen using Zoom. I’m not sure I can write an action scene where everyone is wearing a mask. And writing a sex scene between two people who haven’t been isolating for fourteen days? “No, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until they invent a vaccine.”
In the New York Times this morning, there’s a lengthy piece about what the next year or two may look like. It ranges from the mildly frightening to the downright horrifying.
So the big question is: what will be the effects on our writing?
Like everyone else, I've been trying to adjust to being home-bound. Yesterday, I tried my hand at making a mask so that I could go out. I needed to drop off my tax documents. The office I've been going to for two decades was about to close as it usually does on April 15 (even though this year the deadline is in July). If I had missed the person I've worked with for years I would have had to the branch office that was remaining open and work with someone there by email or phone. Since my person knows all about my writing deductions I opted to make a quick trip to give her what she needed.
What surprised me was how anxious I felt when I ventured out of the house after being on shutdown (here in New York) for four weeks. I have been having everything delivered -- and, yes, that really is a time-consuming process. Way too much time involved in trying to think about what you might want to eat two weeks from now because it takes five days to get a delivery slot. Also a problem to have to order veggies that quickly go bad if you don't cook with them first.
But going out yesterday reminded me that I need to get some fresh air. I need to step out the door and go for a walk at least every other day. I also need to get a routine in place. This afternoon, I ordered the supplies I need -- printer paper, files, storage boxes, and a larger shredder -- so that I can bring some order to my home office.
I'm alternating organizing with working. I have a proposal to get in, and I need to finish my book about gangster films. At the same time, I am teaching two classes online. That's a learning curve that I and a lot of other teachers are experiencing right now. I normally do hybrid courses, but now I need to do Power Point slides. I rarely do a complete Power Point presentations for my in-class lectures. So Monday and Tuesday I focus on classes. The rest of the week, I'm doing research and writing. I'm also attending Zoom meetings.
Of necessity, I've becoming more skillful in navigating virtual meetings. I'm learning how far to sit from the camera and to pay attention to what's on my desk. Or behind me. I realized in the middle of one meeting that my cat's litter box was visible on the screen. I use a litter deodorizer, and it's okay there (the only convenient place to have it out of the way). But anyone looking must have wondered. Anyone who saw this little dragon must have wondered about him, too.
I always wonder about what I can see of other people's rooms.
There is also the question of what to wear for a virtual meeting. With celebrities dressing down and showing us their unmade-up faces and just out of shower hair, everyone else seems to have followed the trend. But I still feel as if I should at least tidy up enough not scare people when my face pops up on the screen. I do have this hair thing going on. Like some other ill-advised people, a few days ago I decided to trim my own hair. Now, the gray is really showing. I can't decide how I feel about it. I've been seeing gray hairs since I was in my 20s, and I'm really tired of doing touch-ups every two or three weeks. Now that I'm house-bound I could see what I look like if I don't. Except for those Zoom meetings where other people are seeing my experiment.
I think I need a hat. Maybe I'll knit one with that beginner's knitting kit that I bought a couple of years ago and never time to use. Knit while I learning about French culture from a Kanopy course or taking a Master Class (now that I have a year's subscription). I could knit my hat while I'm learning how to make something really interesting for dinner.
Except I need to stay focused. I want to get back to my 1939 historical thriller. The delay has given me a few ideas. Although Sleuthfest was cancelled, I had a character-naming opportunity in the auction. The winner offered me two names to use. I decided to use both, pairing them with another couple whose names I had already offered to include. As soon as I thought of that, I could see the four of them chatting together on a train bound for New York City. They are discussing the World's Fair that both couples plan to attend. The sleeping car porter, my protagonist, is moving about in the background -- an echo of the scene in Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt. But instead of telling the two couples about the man who hasn't been seen since he boarded the train, my porter will be worrying about his own problems. The perfect set-up for a flashback. . .
So that's the news from here on my sofa. It's late and I should go to bed. Stay well, everyone.
It's interesting to see how everyone is handling their enforced isolation during this strange and unusual time. It seems that everyone is hanging fire, as we used to say, waiting to see what the future will bring. Will Rick's pirated books be taken down? Will John's daughter get to move to New York on time? I'm anxious for her. I especially enjoyed Tom's observations on heroes and villains and Barbara and Aline's entries on writing problems. Any writer will recognize the thoughts that go through one's head while creating a literary world and deciding how to write a contemporary novel set during the time of a pandemic. How much is enough? How much is too much?
Sibyl's entry on podcasts caught my eye, as well. I've been more aware of podcasts in the past few months, ever since my last novel, The Wrong Girl, came out, and for some reason I don't know (but appreciate) I've been asked to do several podcast interviews myself.
Like Charlotte, I'm quite an introvert, but it has been strange to totally cut myself off from the little outside human contact I had before the lockdown. Strange ... but I have to admit that I kind of like not having to deal with people. I didn't realize what a natural-born hermit I am. That worries me about myself. I do FaceTime, and it is fascinating to see the news and talk shows taking place through Zoom. I love seeing other people's living spaces (and the non-make-up, non-dressed up chats with friends are interesting too. )
One thing about living in Arizona at this time of year – the weather is gorgeous. The only problem is that my allergies have acted up so I can't stay outside for very long. I have gotten a lot of work done. This very day I finished the ARC edits of Valentino Will Die, the second installment in the Adventures of Bianca Dangereuse series, and sent it back to the publisher. The new book is supposed to come out in November. It's a brave new world, though, so who knows what will happen? No matter. I will go ahead and begin a new book because that's just what one does.
Everyone stay safe, and KEEP ME POSTED. I care about you people.
I am almost two thirds of the way through the first draft of my upcoming Inspector Green novel. The contract for this book was signed somewhere back in the mists of time. Possibly 2018. Pre-pandemic timelines are blurry. I started researching the topic in October 2019, began writing in January 2020, and by the time the pandemic really hit this country, I had written about half.
The book is due for release in November 2021 and my deadline to submit the final manuscript is October 2020. In normal times, that deadline is very manageable. The whole summer stretches ahead of me, with lots of time to sit on my dock at the cottage and get inspired. But these are not normal times. The first challenge was getting my creative brain to work. For weeks, I've been mesmerized by news headlines, Facebook links, and that addictive Johns Hopkins coronavirus tracker. Every morning I've tuned in to our Prime Minister delivering his daily update to the nation, followed by endless media commentary. At times it has felt as if I was standing on a small sliver of sand slowly being washed away by the ocean. My fictional world, whenever I tried to enter it, felt irrelevant and even meaningless despite the compelling human drama I was writing about. Mine was make-believe, while all around me gallant struggles were being fought and real lives lost.
I have begun to settle down and after weeks of forcing myself to stare at my draft, I've begun to inch forward again. Only to confront another problem; how to handle the pandemic. My books are set in real time and often against the backdrop of current events. When readers pick up my book in late 2021 or beyond, should they be reading about characters going about their lives in a world that is the same as pre-2020? It would feel jarring, and indeed, as I try to write about their daily activities, it feels jarring as well. Lots of hugging and handshakes, lots of gathering together in the squad room for briefings, no masks or worries about social distancing.
But by the time the book is available, eighteen months from now, I think the main pandemic will be over. There will be some return to normal activities. So thankfully I don't have to describe police trying to investigate in the midst of a lockdown. But what kind of world will we live in? What will be the changes to our behaviour and our feelings that will linger long after the virus is over? My characters will have all lived through the pandemic, and the effects and memories will still be very vivid. I don't expect us to "get over" the collective world trauma soon, and many parts of the economy such as travel, entertainment, and sports will still be decimated.
If I write a realistic story set in roughly the time the readers will be reading it - i.e. late 2021 - I can't ignore those realities. But at the moment I can only guess what the world will look like and how profoundly our lives will be changed. I've asked writers and readers what they would want to see in a novel like mine. Interestingly the opinions seem split between those who want me to ignore the pandemic (or set the book in 2019) because they don't want to read about it, and those who think it's important to have it as a backdrop, but judiciously sketched. No one wants to read a whole book about the pandemic (which is understandable at this point, nor do I want to write one).
I have concluded that, because that's the kind of story I write, I have to include the aftermath and fallout from the pandemic, but it will be in subtle touches. For one thing, I don't plan to change the overall plot of the story, and for another I have no idea what the world is going to look like. Will we all be wearing masks, or at least the paranoid among us? Will we have adopted the Namaste greeting or fist bump in larger numbers? Will we shy away from hugging acquaintances? Will half of us be broke and in danger of losing our homes? Will we value our relationships and our planet more than we used to?
These are all possible outcomes. And some of them may find their way into my book as I proceed with the draft. I can keep changing details as the pandemic situation evolves, and by the time the book is in final edits almost a year from now, I hope we have a clearer picture of our new reality. So in subsequent drafts and rewrites, I will be chasing a moving target and adjusting my subtle touches to whatever new realities I can imagine just out of sight. An interesting challenge that at least makes me feel my work is less irrelevant and meaningless.
I think every writer and reader is going to approach this differently (historical and fantasy writers are exempt from the question). I'd love to hear your opinions on how this world-altering experience is changing our approach to reading and writing.
Well, I sent my email in to Internet Archive and none of my books have been taken down from their website. I guess after this news broke, they were inundated by legal demands. I’m going to keep monitoring it over the coming days. I must say it’s disheartening that so far, no good.
Other than that, I’m keeping on keeping on. The weather has been pretty cold here in Toronto for the most part, and rainy as well on most days. Tonight we’re going to get snow flurries. Oh joy. But this is Canada and it is only April, so it’s not unprecedented. The threat of snow, though, is rather depressing.
I’ve got a question for everyone today: What is the book you’re reading right now and why?
Please share!
I’m reading one of the last Camillieri novels, The Overnight Kidnapper. I’ll be sorry when I get to the end of the line. This series is really quite exceptional.
So much of our time at the moment seems to be spent on quartermaster duties. We're not in the 'shielding' group but the government, and more importantly my family, have been insisting that we self-isolate as much as possible. Finding a supermarket delivery slot is a full-time job on its own, and then finding what isn't out of stock and planning for three weeks ahead when you've been used to trotting down to Sainsbury's (within Zimmer distance when the time comes) every two or three days is very distracting.
My family is always asking, 'What did you have to eat?' when someone's been out for a meal so perhaps we're over-interested in food any way. But can I ask you, how often do your characters eat? It worries me when they don't.
There was one particular book I read that had a great plot, very tense, and I was eagerly reading on until the woman with her three children fled to this wooden cabin for refuge. The backwoodsman welcomed them and they stayed there, but then there was absolutely no mention, for the rest of the book, of anyone actually eating anything and it totally distracted me. Presumably he went out and shot stuff, but there was no mention of cooking it, no mention of a vegetable garden (which actually seemed unlikely) or a visit to a local store. I was so bothered about those poor starving children that the rest of the book was wasted on me.
DI Marjory Fleming is famously a hopeless cook, but I do see to it that other people provide her with regular meals. DCI Kelso Strang is quite handy in the kitchen. DS Tam MacNee's pie-and-beans habit wasn't exactly healthy and DC Livvy Murray can't resist a doughnut. It's an important part of the character shorthand for me.
Perhaps it was Ratty's picnic in The Wind in the Willows that made me feel food was an essential element to any book. We know Ratty intimately after that first colddchickencoldtonguecoldhamcold
beefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwidgespottedmeatgingerbeer lemondesodawater...'
Late afternoon or evening I go for a walk. Usually along the Spring Creek bike trail. A couple of days ago I passed a group of neighbors who found a way to socialize at a distance. They took their lawn chairs to a large green common area and visited.
Now they would be wearing masks. But I think this is a very good idea. The lack of human contact is even getting to me and I'm extremely introverted.
This morning one of my friends from my knitting group came to my house to get some elastic. We both are making masks and I happen to have quite a bit of elastic on hand. I met her on the patio and wore gloves to hand her the plastic sack of material. We both wore masks and sat more than six feet apart. I was so happy to see her!
We talked for quite some time. This six member knitting group has been meeting at Barnes and Noble in Loveland for about ten years. Three of the members are expert knitters. It's also a confidential support group and a group of avid readers. We have never had a meeting that we didn't share information and opinions about books although it's not a formal book club.
We love meeting in B&N because we can leave our table and run to purchase the books other members are recommending. It's a busy happy group and I really miss it.
In fact, during this sad bizarre time, I've done a lot of thinking about activities I've always taken for granted. Our Diocese has done a marvelous job of producing on-line religious services, and I admire the work that has gone into the presentations. But Easter! Home alone?
I have a book to review and last week I finished a piece a publisher had requested. Beyond that, it's difficult to anticipate where the publishing industry is heading. It's always a mistake anyway to write to the market. The best plan always has been to write what you really want to write.
I'm reading like crazy, watching too much TV, and making masks.
By all accounts, this is predicted to be the worst week yet in the U.S. for Covid-19 deaths. Last night, before I went to bed, I turned on CNN for twenty minutes. The blame game was being played by the White House. The number of fatalities for the day in the U.S. hovered around 1,400. And, worse, I learned that 72% of those dying in the U.S. from this coronavirus are people of color. From the obvious lack of leadership to institutional racism, the news was bleak, to say the least.
So where does all of this leave us?
A friend, living and writing in New York City, wrote on Facebook that it’s like 9/11 but in slow motion. My daughter, in January, and ahead of her graduation from Kenyon College, accepted a position with a company in New York City. She turns 22 on Easter. Living in the City and working on Madison Avenue at age 22? We were all over the moon. Now, I have my Dad hat on: Start date is still June 8? Looking for an apartment and moving there when?
But I am one of the lucky ones (and, yes, I am knocking on wood as I write that sentence). My family is safe and, as of this writing, healthy. I am holed up with my wife and three daughters, all five of us working or studying virtually. We are reading a lot. My 19-year-old showed me that Instagram can be a useful tool and got us to make a family Tik Tok.
As I look to the future, I can only wonder about the aftermath. Three months? Six months? I heard yesterday, we will know where things stand from a medical standpoint in 18 months. People in my circles are reading more. That can’t be a bad thing. We are learning that technology can fill some spaces. Zoom doesn’t replace face-to-face interactions, but it’s better than email.
Still, I have friends who have lost loved ones. I know I will have more. Those people are not making Tik Toks, and they are not worried about getting their next Kindle download.
I’ve been hearing about podcasts for years, but never thought I’d listen to one. They just didn’t interest me. Even after reading Laura Oles’ guest post awhile back, I still wasn’t sure it was for me. But now, well, I never thought I’d say this, I’ve become semi-addicted to them. Not addicted-addicted because that would mean I would listen to every single podcast no matter what, but I have become fans of a few selected ones. I tend to listen to them while I’m cleaning or working on painting projects.
This all started when I got an opportunity to be interviewed by author Alexia Gordon on her podcast, The Cozy Corner with Alexia Gordon. I had done a podcast interview before for Destination Mystery but, other than listening to my own interview, I never listened to any of the other episodes.
This time I thought I should listen to some of the other interviews Alexia has done to get a feel for her interviewing style and the type of questions I might encounter. Plus, a number of the people she’s interviewed are either authors I know or ones whose books I’ve enjoyed.
Most podcasts are available on a number of different platforms, free with commercials. I have an iPod Touch so I just went searching on the podcast app and found The Cozy Corner and started listening. The podcasts are relatively short, 20 – 30 minutes or so each, so it was easy to squeeze them into my day. I found I enjoyed hearing authors talk about their books and their writing.
Then the History Channel started a HISTORY This Week podcast so I started listening to that one. This is where I found out about the Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919. The author of a book on the flood was interviewed so I got a copy and read it. It’s an extremely interesting book by Stephen Puleo called Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919. HISTORY This Week also recently did a podcast on the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1919, which I also found interesting.
Then I found Hollywood and Crime where I listened to a multi-episode series on the Black Dahlia and other horrific murders of women that occurred in Los Angeles in the late 1940s. That was an eye opener. I’d heard about the Black Dahlia, of course, but not the others.
Now, let’s get back to the podcast interview that started it all. It was recorded on March 7th before all of this craziness started using Zoom (audio only). I’d never heard of Zoom until that interview, now I see it mentioned everywhere as people shelter at home and use it to hold meetings and classes and generally connect with others.
The interview is available today (Wednesday 4/8) at 7 a.m. CDT. I’m always a bit nervous about being interviewed because sometimes my mind just goes blank or I think of a much better answer to a question long after the interview is over. And, of course, this time was one of those times where I thought of a much better answer or at least additional things I could have said.
My main character is a computer programmer so Alexia wanted to know if I’d made her one because I was trying to encourage young women to get into the field. (Or something like that. I don’t remember exactly how she worded it.)
Honestly, that question floored me because I never thought of any characters that I’ve created as having an impact beyond the story. Maybe I should think about that more. I made Rory a freelance programmer partly because I needed a job for her that would be flexible enough so she could do sleuthing during the day if needed and partly because I was a programmer for 20 years so I understand how she thinks. Plus anyone who writes code tends to be a little analytical so I figured that was a good attribute for an amateur sleuth. Then I think I blathered on about something for a while.
What I really should have added, but didn’t think of until later, is that when I chose my own major in college, I never really thought about whether it would be difficult or “appropriate” for me because I was a woman. I just did what I wanted to do. And, really, that’s what I think everyone should do when it comes to deciding a major or profession. Forget about gender stereotypes and go for it. I was fully aware that I was doing something that was a little unusual at the time. This was the late 70s when Computer Science degrees were still fairly new. In the class of 100 CS majors I was a part of there were 4 or 5 women. I just didn’t see why that should stop me.
So, that’s my story. That’s what I would have added if I’d thought of it.
What about you all? Does anybody listen to podcasts? Any listening suggestions?
One of the two publishers with which I work, Orca Publishing, sent out their usual newsletter to authors yesterday and the lead off article was something rather disturbing.
It seems a website called Internet Archive makes books available online at no charge, operating as sort of a lending library has some of my books. Right now, because of the coronavirus situation, they’ve made their entire collection available all the time. Normally, only one person can be reading a book at a time. Now, it’s wide open.
The issue is that they have not obtained permission for using these books in this way, nor paid any money for them. I found five of my books in the collection. Looking more closely, I found the books have all been bulk-scanned from print copies. Some of the books appear to have been originally part of a library collection – which is disturbing in itself – while others might have been donated by individuals.
At this time, all libraries are closed in most of Canada, and probably in the US and elsewhere. I haven’t checked with the Toronto Library to see if one can “withdraw” books using the internet, but certainly smaller libraries would be unlike to be able to offer this feature. Libraries have to work out a payment schedule with publishers for the use of e-books that does offer some recompense, but Internet Archive has not done this.
Which brings me to the conundrum. Should I just look the other way at the moment in order to help out people who cannot get fresh reading material, or should I contact Internet Archive right now, establish my right as the author of these works – and holder of the copyright – and demand they be removed or paid for in some way? (I know what the answer to that last part will be!)
I’ve done a lot of thinking about this overnight and cannot decide what to do.
