Well, tomorrow I’ll be winging my way to Malice Domestic for a mini-reunion with several of the Cozy Chicks. Heather, Maggie, JB and I will in Arlington, VA for the supreme annual cozy mystery convention.
I always enjoy Malice (and if you’re attending, please come up and say hello), although this year I really feel guilty about the spent time away from the computer — and, yes, I’m also dreading the inevitable flight delays and lost luggage. Why, why do these things always happen to me? And when is someone going to do something about the outrageous, unscrupulous ways airlines treat us? — seriously.
Anyway, as I sit here anticipating all the things that are liable to go wrong on this trip (and then reminding myself of how I can then use them in a book), I thought I’d ask for everyone’s favorite traveling horror story.
So tell us about your road trip — or any trip — into Hell. What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you when you were on the move?
INCOMING MESSAGE
Where do your ideas come from?
That’s the million dollar question that readers ask so often. And I still can’t answer with any degree of lucidity. Even when I reread the stories I’ve written, I wonder where those tales came from, how the words got on the page. Did I really write them?
Eckhart Tolle, author of Living in the Now, says that inspiration absolutely does NOT come from thinking. According to him, true inspiration arrives from the gap between, from the stillness when we are totally in the present moment—not worrying about the future, not immersed in our past, not resisting what comes.
Heavy stuff that I’m struggling to understand, because I know he’s right. Here’s why.
Every time I try to force creativity by focusing my mind on the task, I enter into a battle with myself that I ultimately lose. Oh, sure, stuff gets on the page. But it’s garbage. It’s not coming from the part of me outside of rational thought. It’s coming from what I “think” the market is looking for, or what my agent can sell, or what I imagine will bring me increased respect from readers and other writers. I freeze up and it shows on the page.
Now that my third Yooper mystery, Murder Talks Turkey, has hit the bookshelves (check it out at my website www.debbakerbooks.com) and I’ve wrapped up revisions on the December release of doll collecting mystery number four, I’m between contracts for the first time in years. Am I scared? A while ago I would have said, you bet. Now? I’m loving it. This is an opportunity to do something fresh, new, exciting, different, something from my heart instead of my head.
So lately I’m attempting to free my mind from its limiting constraints and soar like the bird that will play a major role in my next proposal. But where and what are these magical gaps between thought? And once I find that place, will I recognize it? Can I stay there indefinitely or will I get only brief glimpses of possibilities that will elude me most of the time?
I have a clue. I’m pretty sure I know where this special place is, the gap where thought can’t exist to control my mind, because I’ve been there. It’s that special moment when I’m really into my story, actually living it with my characters, where it’s playing out, and I’m flowing along with the story totally immersed. My fingers on the keyboard have a life of their own. Time doesn’t exist. I’m gone from this world, sucked into a place where anything is possible.
You’ve been there, too, haven’t you?
But as a professional writer, can I afford to wander around waiting for my muse? Not really. I have to discover a way to jump start this creative part of me that is beyond my thinking mind. And the last way to do that is to “think” it into happening.
I’m finding that real inspiration sneaks up on me when I least expect it. When I’m driving my car, or in the shower. Strange places and times. But I have a tiny amount of say about when some of it happens.
My favorite way to free myself from the past and the future is by going for a walk. I’m big into walking, especially in places where nature coexists with humanity. There, I can clear my brain of all the mundane tasks that are constantly battering me for attention. I let it go at will, like the turkey vultures overhead. (really! They like the open spaces near my home).
My new project began as a “plot” to write a big book. My reasoning mind had plans to mold it based on what other successful authors were writing. I wanted to follow in their footsteps, pick up as many of their crumbs as possible.
Three chapters and the dreaded synopsis into my “big” book, it just wasn’t ringing true. What did I want to write if I could forget about all the external stuff like marketability? What to write? After throwing ideas around and discard each of them, I still didn’t know. But whatever it was, my goal to fit my writing into a slot, round peg in square hole, or whatever, wasn’t working. My mind sweated it out. Calculated thoughts that involved financial wisdom and an in-depth analysis of current trends were taking the fun right out the process.
More walks to clear my mind of destructive thinking. Searching for the gap. I continued to seek answers from my guru by listening to webcast classes with Tolle (www.oprah.com if you’re interested in watching any past classes led by Eckhart and Oprah). More walks.
I must have (and still must) looked like a mad woman stalking down the road, talking to myself, occasionally throwing a few comments toward the sky in case someone up there was listening in.
Then, finally, inspiration struck. Incoming messages dove in. And I knew those ideas weren’t coming from conscious thought. I felt excited, positively right on. I knew what I wanted to write. In fact, I had to write it.
Every day, I can’t wait to get to my story. The plot line isn’t cast in concrete. In fact, it morphs into something a little different every day. That’s okay. For me, insight comes slowly. It can’t be rushed. I’m changing, fine-tuning as I go and I refuse to let my rational mind establish a deadline for its completion. I’ve stopped worrying about the market and whether it will sell. I just know that I have to write it.
So tell me – have I descended into madness or risen to consciousness? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I might stop to ‘think’ about it.
Instead tell me -Where do you get your ideas?
Hey, folks—-Since I’m traveling today, I invited Berkley Prime Crime and Midnight Ink mystery author Deb Baker to be the Guest Author for my Tuesday spot this week. I’ve read her contribution and it’s great! I can’t wait to see what responses she’ll hear from you guys.
I’m continuing the topic of names today for two reasons:
1. Your answers were so interesting and revealing! Not too many people like the names they were given at birth, which their parents obviously did like. I find that fascinating.
2. I spent most of the day driving to and from and being in Niles, Michigan, for the Niles District Library’s Author’s Day. What an enjoyable day, too, but alas, I didn’t have time to prepare my normal blog topic.
So instead, I want to probe your brains just a bit more. If you could wipe the slate clean, what name would you give yourself and why?
Have a great week,
Kate
Thanks, JB, for the kind invite. I’m flattered to be here, and your timing couldn’t have been better.
I’m scheduled to moderate a panel at the Malice Domestic convention on “Cozy Up to These Sleuths: What Does a Cozy Make?”
My first thought when I got the notification about the panel was that the conference organizers had made a mistake. I could see how that could happen: My first book, due out in July, is titled Death of a Cozy Writer (to be followed by Death and the Lit Chick). What could be a more natural fit than to put me on a cozy panel, right?
But I decided not to point out the error of their ways: I realized that the fact that my first book (which my publisher has labeled “a medium-boiled cozy”) takes a lot of the conventions of the “cozy cozy” and pokes gentle fun at them makes it a good counterpoint to the softer-boiled books to be discussed on the panel.
For one thing, the cozy writer of my title is an absolute devil who loves nothing better than to stir up trouble, even as he pens his gentle Miss-Marple-type books. His reading public loves him, but no one who knows the man can stand him, beginning with his family.
As you might guess, I had a lot of fun with this. I think a lot of people do think authors are much the same as their protagonists. Not!
But making fun of the genre doesn’t mean I don’t love the genre: Cozies are nearly all I ever read. A list of some of my favorite authors holds a clue: Robert Barnard, Agatha Christie, Caroline Graham, Martha Grimes, P.D. James, Peter Lovesey, Barbara Vine. (Okay, a couple of these may be more edgy than cozy.) But these are the mystery authors I’ve read and reread over many years, and/or whose books I buy the second they hit the shelves.
And I consider that they all fall under the cozy umbrella to some extent. But we may have to stretch the definitions just a bit.
So, what do these writers have in common, apart from an absolute mastery of the English language, and a British setting? A subversive wit is the first thing that comes to mind. Nothing slapstick, very little physical comedy. But, again, their brilliant use of language makes most of these writers laugh-out-loud funny—their ability to describe people and situations, to weave words together in ways that surprise the reader into laughter.
None of them go in for graphic sex or violence, but a swear word may slip in here and there. The language (again, the language) that they have their characters use results in a realistic—and again, often very funny—depiction of how people really talk. They may be “cozy writers” but they won’t have a character say, “Oh, gosh darn it!” when that would be absurd for that particular character.
So to the question “What Does a Cozy Make?” I guess I have a few answers. I haven’t even gone into what makes a protagonist or his/her occupation “cozy,” but I see I’ve wandered on long enough. Maybe you can help me out. What, to you, does a cozy make? And who are the cozy authors you return to, again and again?
If you’ve ever been annoyed with a favorite cozy mystery author, then you’ll be glad that this week’s guest blogger G.M. Malliet is getting even on your behalf. Read more about this fantastic and highly-anticipated mystery:
“From deep in the heart of his eighteenth century English manor, millionaire Sir Adrian Beauclerk-Fisk writes mystery novels and torments his four spoiled children with threats of disinheritance. Tiring of this device, the portly patriarch decides to weave a malicious twist into his well-worn plot. Gathering them all together for a family dinner, he announces his latest blow – a secret elopement with the beautiful Violet… who was once suspected of murdering her husband.
Within hours, eldest son and appointed heir Ruthven is found cleaved to death by a medieval mace. Since Ruthven is generally hated, no one seems too surprised or upset – least of all his cold-blooded wife Lillian. When Detective Chief Inspector St. Just is brought in to investigate, he meets with a deadly calm that goes beyond the usual English reserve. And soon Sir Adrian himself is found slumped over his writing desk – an ornate knife thrust into his heart. Trapped amid leering gargoyles and stone walls, every member of the family is a likely suspect. Using a little Cornish brusqueness and brawn, can St. Just find the killer before the next-in-line to the family fortune ends up dead?”
Coming July 1st available now at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, and from the publisher.
Please visit http://gmmalliet.com for more details.
Spring is in full swing. The trees have flowered, the daffodils have come and gone, the hyacinth’s blooms are fading. Buds are emerging on the shrubs, the grass is greening…and I’m in no mood to garden.
My yard is, well, let’s use a Sharon Short term: Unfortunate. Last year’s drought really took its toll on the grass, so it’s looking like something out of Caddyshack – but gophers aren’t our issue.
The gardens all need weeding, mulching, and overall TLC. The sheer amount of work is overwhelming, which makes me keep putting it off. The longer I put it off (and I have *every* excuse) the more miserable it looks.
Plus, there are other things I want to do. (Besides write the book due June 1st.)
Why does spring bring out the nester in me? I’d like to find time for spring cleaning, and making over the garage, and finish my attic clean-out, and maybe peel the wallpaper from the front hall, and paint the front door, and do something with the front porch, and maybe lay some tile, and paint the living room, and the master bath, and…the list is never ending.
Time, however, is limited. As is budget. Picking and choosing projects is going to hard at best. I’m thinking about putting them into a hat… It might be the only way to decide which gets done first.
Do you have any spring projects planned?
~h
Well, first off, I need to apologize for going MIA the past couple of weeks. Usually I do my blogs a month ahead of schedule, but the last two months have been unreal as far as deadlines, gigs, and family obligations. Not only was there no chance to blog ahead of time, I literally couldn’t seem to wrangle a spare fifteen minutes to post when my day rolled around (which it kept doing with shocking frequency).
But I’m back with this month’s post on writing. One of our regular readers, Traci Kishbaugh wrote: Also, here’s a subject I’d love to see covered…A strong opening, a strong ending, but the middle of the story is mush. Anyone else have this problem? And if so what do you do about it?” I’m always interested in a writer’s opinion on this because this is my biggest problem. I can write and write until my brain literally stops. I always have a very strong opening and ending, but my middle is always mush.
Ah yes. The saga of the saggy middle. It’s a common problem for beginning writers, so don’t feel alone. Basically it comes down to plot and pacing. And let me start by reassuring you that having a terrific beginning and a dynamite ending is excellent! You’re already ahead of the game.
All right, let’s talk about tightening up that flabby middle. The easiest way to do it is an outline. Now, before you start making those I-hate-to-outline noises, let me reassure you that an outline need not be some big formal paper with bullet points and Roman numerals and headings and subheadings. Basically an outline is a kind of checklist. It consists of all the important scenes of your story — the scenes you know for sure you want to write in the order you want to write them. That sounds pretty simple, right?
It is pretty simple.
By listing out all the important scenes that you envision — and then putting them in a rough order — you make sure that your story has enough of the highs and lows, the crests and lulls of good storytelling. That’s called Pacing. It’s very important to how your story reads.
A story that is all rush, rush, rush is just as boring in its way as a story that is too much reflection and discussion. What you want is a balance of action scenes and scenes of reflection but — and this is very important — something interesting must be happening at all times.
An outline allows you to see at a glance if you’ve got too many scenes of your heroine sitting around thinking and not enough of her out there sleuthing. It allows you to see if all the romantic subplot is bunched into the final third of the book or if it’s taking you too long to get to the first murder. (Rule of thumb is try and kill someone by page 50 — you think I’m kidding, don’t you?)
An outline also gives you an opportunity to see if you’ve got enough going on in your story — if you’ve really got a story (and I think next month we’ll talk a bit about Plot) or whether you simply haven’t figured out enough scenes, enough interesting events, enough action — in short, an outline tells you right away if you’ve got enough Plot.
Now one reason why so many writers dread outlining is because it means sitting down and thinking your story through — all the way through from beginning to end — and that’s hard work. It’s much more fun just to start writing and see where it takes you. But very often where it takes you is off the road and into the woods — and then you spend hours wandering around in circles trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
Take it from me, the easiest way to avoid that saggy middle is to outline. Questions, comments? Bring ‘em on!
Okay. . .I spent the whole weekend finishing my income taxes, and they’re finally done. It was late Sunday evening by the time I finished the Federal taxes and forms. Since I was tired, I decided to do the simpler Colorado state tax form this morning. That way I could drop them in the mail today, Monday.
So this morning, I went through my tax folder, searching for the Colorado tax booklet that always arrives in the mail. I couldn’t find it. Looked everywhere. Don’t you hate that? Searching through drawers and files, convinced that whatever you’ve misplaced will suddenly “turn up?” It never does. And neither did the state tax forms.
So instead of finishing and copying files for my folder, I had to drive off to the state office and grab another booklet. Of couurse, that was after working out, a trip to the bank, a trip to the grocery, filling up the gas tank, mailing some bills, and four long-distance calls. And balancing my check book.
By that time, it was after eleven, and I was already late getting back to work on my current mystery in progress. And, I had to leave in late afternoon for a meeting in Denver. So, I got back to work, and let taxes wait until Tuesday morning.
So—tomorrow morning, April 15th, I’ll be finishing up the state tax forms then driving to the post office and joining that extremely long line that snakes around the post office mail boxes every April 15th. Usually I observe the line while driving by on the way between errands, feeling oh-so-smug that I’d already done MY taxes. So, there. But not this year.
So much for smug. How about you folks? Did you have to stay up late April 14th to finish yur taxes? Or were you an early bird?
Cute article in MORE magazine last month on how names cycle in and out. According to the article’s author, Linda Yellin, if your name is Debbie, Sandra, Barbara, Nancy — or Linda, you are pegging yourself as being “of a certain age.” Likewise, if your name is Jennifer, Heather, Melissa, and Kimberly, it’s a bet you were born in the 70s. Nowadays, you’re likely to be an Ashley, Sophia or Emily.
Why is that, do you think? Why do names change for women, yet for men you can always find Jims, Mikes, Roberts, Davids and Toms? And what ever happened to Ethyl, Ruth, Bertha, Lucille, Gertrude and Pearl? Why aren’t they around anymore?
I once asked my parents why they chose that particular name for me. My mother, sensing a conflict brewing, blamed it on my father, who claimed he didn’t remember why, being in the throes of a new-daddy daze. I used to wish they’d given me a dramatic name, like Emerald, or Wednesday, one that would really stand out in a crowd. At least they didn’t choose something really embarrassing. A friend of mine got the moniker Candace. Last name (honestly) Cane. Candy Cane. She got married as soon as she was legally allowed.
Going through puberty, I decided my name was dull and boring and would never attract a boy’s attention, so one year I changed the spelling, the next year I hyphenated my first and middle names, and finally dropped my first name altogether. I felt different with each new name, exotic somehow, and free to experiment with my personality. One semester it backfired on me, however. I’d decided to go with initials only and be a real rebel — except that my grades tanked, which got me grounded at home. No more initials after that.
Do you like your name? Have you ever wished you could change it? Did you go through a period in school when you altered the spelling, or started using your middle name? If you could change your first name to anything, what would it be?
Have a great week,
Kate, or Kayt, or maybe Kait, or, yes! Emerald Wednesday Collins