food… glorious, sumptuous food

"It’s gumbo weather."

If you hear that in south Louisiana, you know two things: it’s probably late into the football season and we’ve just recently had a "cold snap," which means we’ve finally had nights that dip into the 40s. It also means that a whole lot of natives just broke out the skillets (the better to make the roux), and green onions, shrimp and a ton of spices.

There are a wide variety of gumbos–most use a chicken stock as part of the base and add on from there. Shrimp and okra, sausage and chicken, the general throw-everything-in-the-pot seafood. Its stock is typically thinner than a stew and thicker than a soup, served over rice, and served with a condiment called filet (ground sassafras). (One tiny 1/4 teaspoonful per bowl is usually enough.)

Now, if your gumbo gravy is red, then you’ve got some other influences going on in there which are not south Louisiana; if there are hard boiled eggs in there, absorbing the gravy, then you’re probably eating gumbo in the Lafayette / Lake Charles area. [North Louisiana gumbo tends to be thinner and lighter as well.] [My husband completely freaked out the first time he fished an egg out of the gumbo pot. I think he thought he’d married into a bunch of crazy people. He was born in Alabama. We make allowances.]

When we’re developing characters and place in our stories, there’s one often-forgotten sensory experience left unexplored: tastes. But it’s one powerful connector to place, to the unique aspects of that place, which can orient a character there faster and more firmly than any mountain of prosaic description of landscape could ever manage.

For example, I know if someone mentioned crawfish etouffee,
[pronounced eh-too-fey] and its particular blend of spice, that they are familiar with south Louisiana.

I’m not sure if they’re familiar with the fact that one of our main crops is rice (which is one of the reasons why it’s so prevalent in many of our dishes), but if they can describe the particular creamy-roux-based taste, with a touch of tomato mixed with onions and butter, generally heavy cream (this is not cooking for the diet conscious), then I feel like they’ve captured a sense of the place. If, however, someone mentions boudin [boo-dan–that ‘n’ is barely pronounced, then I know they’re a bit more familiar with south Louisiana heritage. (Boudin is one of those foods, like sausage, where you really just do not want to go looking all that carefully at the ingredients, if you’re queasy about that sort of thing. It’s a finely chopped meat/uh, other stuff/rice/spice combination which is then stored in sausage casings. Think "spicy spicy spicy "dirty rice" and you’ll have some idea. A lot of field hands and hunters / trappers would take a string of boudin links with them out in the field–cutting off a link and squeezing out the rice combination to eat as they worked or hunted. Made for easy transportation of food. I’ve seen people who beg for hot Thai food tear up over boudin, if it’s made well.)

We have other regional foods that are, perhaps, better known nationally: the spicy rice/meat combination we call jambalaya.

The common "po boy" which I understand has variations elsewhere as the "hoagie" or the "sub":

A local favorite, blackened redfish, which pretty much disappeared when the fish were over harvested and the state stepped in to mandate maximums:

(I’m not 100% sure that’s redfish in the photo, but it was the best representation of what truly "blackened" means… those spices have been seared onto the fish, the fish is not at all burned.)

I know we commonly have beignets [bin-yays] here:

Whereas, elsewhere in the country, they might call them sopapillas:

Long before there was a Starbucks in south Louisiana, their coffee cropped up in places in fiction I’d read. (I honestly had no clue at first what a Starbucks was. The preferred coffee here is Community, usually Dark Roast, which will stand up and bitch slap you, it is so strong.) I’ve gotten a tremendous sense about who that character is from whether they cook mac and cheese from a box or a five course (possibly poisoned, if it’s a murder mystery) Italian meal. Or a fine, flaky dessert called baklava:

I don’t necessarily want a description of every meal–or even many meals, especially in thrillers or mysteries where too much description could slow the killer pace, but people eat and drink and noting regional favorites gives added… uh, flavor (sorry), to the work. Does the character know their way around a kitchen? or have they stockpiled take out menus (and if so, is their favorite Chinese? Thai? Italian? Russian? Do Russians have take out menus?) (I am now suddenly realizing that Bobbie Faye’s boss, who owns the Ce Ce’s Cajun Outfitter and Feng Shui Emporium will now also have to open a Russian-styled "home cooking" place because, well, she’s Ce Ce. And a little crazy.)

So what’s normally cooking in your area? Tell me about your regional favorites, especially the local variations on them. And is anyone else a Top Chef fanatic? Bueller? Bueller? hello?

(ps… happy birthday to my oldest son, Luke!)

What makes a great climax?

by Alexandra Sokoloff

Come on, admit it, one of the great things about being writers is that we get paid for them.

Brett talked about beginnings this week – so I thought I’d bookend it.

I was watching “The Making of Jaws” the other night. I swear, DVD bonus features are the best thing that EVER happened for writers and film students. No one needs film school anymore – just watch the commentaries on DVDs. (That’s something you’re not going to be able to experience the same way when everything goes to streaming video – could be a big problem, there…)

Peter Benchley, the author and co-screenwriter, was talking about the ending of the film. He said that from the beginning of production Spielberg had been ragging on him about the ending – he said it was too much of a downer. For one thing, the visual wasn’t right – if you’ll recall the book, once Sheriff Brody has killed the shark (NOT by blowing it up), the creature spirals slowly down to the bottom of the sea.

Spielberg found that emotionally unsatisfying. He wanted something bigger, something exciting, something that would have audiences on their feet and cheering. He proposed the oxygen tank – that Brody would first shove a tank of compressed air into the shark’s mouth, and then fire at it until he hit the tank and the shark went up in a gigantic explosion. Benchley argued that it was completely absurd – no one would ever believe that could happen. Spielberg countered that he had taken the audience on the journey all this time – we were with the characters every step of the way. The audience would trust him if he did it right.

And it is a wildly implausible scene, but you go with it. That shark has just eaten Quint, whom we have implausibly come to love (through the male bonding and then that incredible revelation of his experience being one of the crew of the wrecked submarine that were eaten one by one by sharks). And when Brody, clinging to the mast of the almost entirely submerged boat – aims one last time and hits that shark, and it explodes in water, flesh and blood – it is an AMAZING catharsis.

Topped only by the sudden surfacing of the beloved Richard Dreyfuss character, who has, after all, survived. (in the book he died – but was far less of a good guy.) The effect is pure elation.

Spielberg paid that movie off with an emotional exhilaration rarely experienced in a story. Those characters EARNED that ending, and the audience did, too, for surviving the whole brutal experience with them. Brilliant filmmaker that he is, Spielberg understood that. The emotion had to be there, or he would have failed his audience.

This is a good lesson, I think: above all, in an ending, the reader/audience has to CARE. A good ending has an emotional payoff, and it has to be proportionate to what the character AND the reader/audience has experienced.

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE is another terrific example of emotional exhilaration in the end. Once George Bailey has seen what would have happened to his little town if he had never been born, and he decides he wants to live and realizes he IS alive again, the pleasures just keep coming and coming and coming. It is as much a relief for us as for George, to see him running through town, seeing all his old friends and familiar places restored. And then to see the whole town gathering at his house to help him, one character after another appearing to lend money, Violet deciding to stay in town, his old friend wiring him a promise of as much money as he needs – the whole thing makes the audience glad to be alive, too. They feel, as George does, that the little things you do every day DO count.

So underneath everything you’re struggling to pull together in an ending, remember to step back and identify what you want your reader or audience to FEEL.

Another important component in an ending is a sense of inevitability – that it was always going to come down to this. Sheriff Brody does everything he can possibly do to avoid being on the water with that shark. He’s afraid of the water, he’s a city-bred cop, he’s an outsider in the town – he’s the least likely person to be able to deal with this gigantic creature of the sea. He enlists not one but two vastly different “experts from afar”, the oceanographer Hooper and the crusty sea captain Quint, to handle it for him. But deep down we know from the start, almost BECAUSE of his fear and his unsuitability for the task, that in the final battle it will be Sheriff Brody, alone, mano a mano with that shark. And he kills it with his own particular skill set – he’s a cop, and one thing he knows is guns. It’s unlikely as hell, but we buy it, because in crisis we all resort to what we know.

And it’s always a huge emotional payoff when a reluctant hero steps up to the plate.

It may seem completely obvious to say so, but no matter how many allies accompany the hero/ine into the final battle, the ultimate confrontation is almost always between the hero/ine and the main antagonist, alone. By all means let the allies have their own personal battles and resolutions within battle – that can really build the suspense and excitement of a climactic sequence. But don’t take that final victory out of the hands of your hero/ine or the story will fall flat.

Also, there is very often a moment when the hero/ine will realize that s/he and the antagonist are mirror images of each other. And/or the antagonist may provide a revelation at the moment of confrontation that nearly destroys the hero/ine… yet ultimately makes him or her stronger. (Think “I am your father” in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK)

The battle is also a chance to pay off all your setups and plants. Very often you will have set up a weakness for your hero/ine. That weakness that has caused him or her to fail repeatedly in previous tests, and in the battle he hero/ine’s great weakness will be tested.

PLACE is a hugely important element of an ending. Great stories usually, if not almost always, end in a location that has thematic and symbolic meaning. Here, once again, creating a visual and thematic image system for your story will serve you well, as will thinking in terms of SETPIECES (as we’ve talked about before) Obviously the climax should be the biggest setpiece sequence of all. In SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, Clarice must go down into the labyrinth to battle the monster and save the captured princess. In JAWS, the Sheriff must confront the shark on his own and at sea (and on a sinking boat!). In THE WIZARD OF OZ, Dorothy confronts the witch in her own castle. In RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, Indy must infiltrate the Nazi bunker. In PSYCHO, the hero confronts Tony Perkins in his basement – with the corpse of “Mother” looking on. (Basements are a very popular setting for thriller climaxes… that labyrinth effect, and the fact that “basement issues” are our worst fears and weaknesses).

And yes, there’s a pattern, here – the hero/ine very often has to battle the villain/opponent on his/her own turf.

A great, emotionally effective technique within battle is to have the hero/ine lose the battle to win the war. AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN did this beautifully in the final obstacle course scene, where the arrogant trainee Zack Mayo, who has always been out only for himself, sacrifices his own chance to graduate first in his class to help a classmate over the wall and complete the course, thus overcoming his own flaw of selfishness and demonstrating himself to be true officer material.

Another technique to build a bigger, more satisfying climax is is to have the allies get THEIR desires, too – as in THE WIZARD OF OZ.

And a particularly effective emotional technique is to have the antagonist ma have a character change in the end of the story. KRAMER VS. KRAMER did this exceptionally well, with the mother seeing that her husband has become a great father and deciding to allow him custody of their son, even though the courts have granted custody to her. It’s a far greater win than if the father had simply beaten her. Everyone has changed for the better.

Because CHANGE may just be the most effective and emotionally satisfying ending of all. Nothing beats having both Rick and Captain Renault rise above their cynical and selfish instincts and go off together to fight for a greater good. So bringing it back to the beginning – one of the most important things you can design in setting up your protagonist is where s/he starts in the beginning, and how much s/he has changed in the end.

I bet you all can guess the question for today! What are your favorite endings of screen and page, and what makes them great?

Previous articles on Story Structure:

What’s Your Premise?

Story Structure 101 – The Index Card Method

Screenwriting – The Craft

Elements of Act One

Elements of Act Two

Creating Suspense:

Elements of Act Two, Part Two:

Sweet Dreams… NOT!

by JT Ellison

I had a familiar dream this week – one that’s really a recurring nightmare. I’m at the beach, in Florida, and the waves are just overwhelmingly big – fifteen footers. I’m out on my board, struggling to keep it from getting away and allowing my leash drag me under. When they break, I dive in early, and it feels like I’m underwater for a very long time before I break the surface. They come in so quickly that I’m swept under over and over, and it’s kind of fun, until I see the big one in the distance. I’m suddenly out of the water, on the boardwalk, watching this massive wall of water coming toward me. I never know for sure if I’m far enough away, but ultimately the water comes within a few feet of me, then spills away.

I’ve had this dream so often that I can manipulate it while I’m in it, adjusting the length of time I think the big waves are fun, moving to various points up and down a two-mile stretch of beach. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m going to make the boardwalk in time, other nights the waves are smaller, more manageable.

I had the dream Monday night, and on Tuesday, I saw this story. Now, talk about freaky coincidences. I’m dreaming about tidal waves while one is hitting Maine. And it’s totally unexplained? That’s the big problem in my dream, there’s absolutely no reason for these waves to be so damn big! And it’s happened before – many times, really. So my dream is based in reality, which makes me a little nervous. Because my dreams? They have a tendency to come true.

My mom used to dream about tidal waves in her childhood beach destination, and one eventually came in to Sea Isle City, New Jersey in the form of a hurricane that wiped out a lot of the area. Kind of creepy that I’ve inherited her nightmare, huh?

About two months ago, right before I was due to turn in EDGE OF BLACK, I had an airplane crash dream. I’ve never, ever dreamt about plane crashes before. I started flying when I was an infant, had a frequent flier card when I was a teenager, and eventually ended up working for a sub-contractor to the FAA. I LOVE airplanes. I LOVE flying. So I was especially freaked out by the dream. We were over a city and banking right, then just started going down amid the skyscrapers. Happily, at the last minute we pulled up and skimmed the ground, and I woke up. I had a second one two weeks ago. This time it was a Lear jet, we were flying over a ski resort and went down at the top, skidding our way down the treacherous slopes in a ridiculous parody of Lear jet giant slalom.

It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to recognize these are anxiety dreams. I started having them when I was a little girl. For my fifth birthday, my parents took me to Blinky’s Fun Club, a television show in Denver starring Blinky the Clown. Being utterly scared by the knowledge that I was on television, I did what any intelligent child who has self-preservation in mind would do – I picked my nose. Blinky "Bastard Son of Satan’s Spawn" the Clown popped up (clowns have a tendency to do that, pop out of nowhere) and YELLED at me. Cue crying, screaming, begging, and a lifelong fear of clowns.

The jerk also cemented my original anxiety dream – I’m sitting in a darkened television studio and hear a slithering, scaly crawling. I turn and come face to face with a giant stuffed purple snake with massive green polka dots, who looks at me with it’s slitted eyes then undulates away through the studio. I still have that dream. And it freaks me out every time.

I’ve never had the typical naked at school type of dream. Mine have to have some random element of creativity to them, at least. I dream in color, and they’re so damn real. I’ve been known to wake up furious at Randy and snarl at him for a day because he’s cheated on me or left me.

But the worst are the serial killer dreams. And I have those a lot. Whether it’s knives and chasing, or just locking eyes with someone who I realize means me harm, I wake up breathless and panicked. I get up, lock the bedroom door and try to think about other things so I can go back to sleep. Because I can wake up from a dream, get up in the middle of the night, walk around, shake it off, go back to sleep and pick up where I left off. It’s not a nice talent.

It’s funny, the purple snake dream can be just as menacing as being chased by a serial killer.

There’s not much I can do to alter the way my subconscious works through my issues. I’m a dreamer, in every sense of the word. Hell, I dreamed the entire plot of ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS, start to finish. Man, I wish I could do that more often. I’m not an edgy kind of person during the daylight hours. It’s when darkness falls that I get jumpy. I just don’t know what the night will bring.

So what about you? Do you have anxiety dreams? Are they straightforward, or kooky? And do you have recurring dreams? What’s your trademark nightmare?

Wine of the Week: 2006 Michaud "3" Chalone Red Blend

UPDATE: Wanna see what my waves look like? Click here and read this.

It’s Only The Beginning

by Brett Battles

I don’t remember exactly when I started THE CLEANER. And with THE DECEIVED, I know it was the summer of 2006, but that’s only because I had turned in the first 50 pages with my proposal to my editor then. My third novel, SHADOW OF BETRAYAL, was started much in the same way in the summer of 2007. And for my next novel (we’ll call it Quinn 4 – or simply Q4 – since there’s no title yet) I also wrote a few chapters just this July to get my publisher on board.

But in the months since I sent those pages off, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the new book. And as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve also taken a recent trip to the UK and Paris to do location research. Because of all this, the way the book starts has been morphing in my mind. I no longer think what I wrote this summer is the way for the book to begin.

The reason this is pertinent to my post today is because I made a plan several weeks ago to get Q4 going on November 5th. Why the 5th? One, because it would be enough after my return from Europe that I shouldn’t be effected by jet lag any longer, but mainly because it was the day after election here in the States, and I knew it would be stupid to start before that was over.

So now I’ve begun. And I can truly point to the 5th of November as the day when Q4 began. (Okay…for you purists, of course it began the first day I started thinking about it, but I’m talking about real words on paper, most of which will – hopefully – make the final cut!)

Beginnings are exciting to me. It’s not like I’m staring at a blank page wondering what to write. I’m jazzed up, ready to dive in, and usually within a few days I will have made excellent progress…it’s later, around page 80 that I might waver a bit, but for the beginning? Golden.

And since I’m writing a series, it’s like coming home. I want to see what my characters are doing now. I want to find out how they get into and out of what ever adventure they are barreling toward. And, most importantly, I want to see how their lives have changed. See, it’s the over-story, the personal tale of Quinn and Orlando and Nate’s lives which stretches over the whole series that truly interests me. It is the story within the story. One that is told in increments from book to book. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I have ideas, but often my characters have ideas which deviate from where I was going to take them.

So I sit here at the beginning again. Ready to go, and excited to see what happens next. The only think I know for sure is that in the course of the next several months, I’ll be learning more and more about Quinn’s world. And I can’t think of a better way of spending the time.

So let’s talk beginnings. We all know they are important. They make or break a good thriller or mystery. If you don’t get your reader right away, they’ll put your book down and never pick it up again…well, accept to take it to the used bookstore. So let’s get your thoughts…writer’s do you enjoy writing beginnings? If so, why? If not, why not? And reader’s, what are you looking for when you crack open a book and start reading?

Song of the day: THE BEGINNING by Seal (fooled you didn’t I? Thought I was going to choose Chicago’s ONLY THE BEGINNING, didn’t you?)

The Morning After

by Robert Gregory Browne

Of course, it would fall upon me to write this piece today of all days. The morning after. So I’m going to try to keep it brief.

I’m actually writing this on Monday, so I have no idea how the election will turn out.

But whatever the outcome, some of us here will be elated this morning, while others will be extremely bummed — unless of course we’re all dealing with lawyers and vote counts and an election that drags on longer than the primaries did (please, Lord, let’s not see that happen). In that case, we’ll all be upset.

So, for those of you feeling a little depressed, I have some unsolicited advice for you.

When I was a kid, there were two things I could count on when I was down in the doldrums. When a girl rejected me (I know, I know, hard to believe) or my world just seemed to be falling apart in general, I could always turn to these two things to help me escape — if only for a few moments:

1. My music.

2. My books.

There is nothing more calming to me, than picking up the guitar and working out my troubles with a new chord progression or melody. Playing guitar is generally a very private thing for me now, but it always manages to help me escape whatever is weighing on my mind at the moment. Somewhere in the middle of a song, I’ll find myself lost in the music and the relief is sweet.

Reading a great book does not offer me quite the same relief, but it certainly does help me forget for awhile. It’s well known that during bad times, people often seek solace in entertainment, and only a book can take you into that world of shared imagination — yours and the author’s. Books offer a prolonged escape that, in my opinion, has yet to be matched by any other form of entertainment.

So, that’s my advice. If only for a short time, turn off your TV, quit watching the pundits wax poetic or moan or complain, then pick up your guitar or whatever instrument you play. If you don’t play one, listen to your favorite album from start to finish. Or find that book you’ve always been wanting to read and lose yourself in its pages.

There’s nothing wrong with getting away for awhile. Let all the b.s. go and get that needed relief, then come back to the world feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever troubles are facing you.

And take your time. Healing isn’t easy.

Do your looks matter as an author?

by Tess Gerritsen

Recently I received the following question from a writer:

My debut novel will be coming out soon from a major publisher and I’m traveling to New York to meet my editor for the very first time. Here is where I get worried. How much will my looks factor in with regard to how marketable my book is considered to be? My book is fiction; I know I don’t need a platform in the way that non-fic does. I also know that novelists aren’t likely to be put on TV, so TV-looks shouldn’t be necessary, right?

I’m clean, healthy, strong, and I have a pretty face. I’m also overweight and nearly forty. No matter how nicely I dress and how subtly and gracefully I do my makeup, I am, at heart, frumpy. Should I be concerned how this may affect my editor’s view of me as a writer to promote?

I would like to answer that one’s looks don’t matter one iota, but then I wouldn’t be entirely honest. Because, I’m sorry to say, studies seem to show that looks do make a difference when it comes to one’s career. Attractive (and tall) people are more likely to be popular, to earn more money, and to be promoted more quickly at their jobs. It’s one of those unfortunate facts of life, and even though we may rail at the unfairness of it, there seems to be little we can do to change it. Like books, human beings are too often judged by their covers. The short guy and the homely gal have to work far, far harder to prove their competence — even if they’re rocket scientists.

So to a certain extent, the writer’s concerns are grounded in reality. When we see that some gorgeous author is being well-promoted, we have a sneaking suspicion — perhaps well-founded — that she got all that attention because of her looks. I remember seeing photos of Sebastian Junger (THE PERFECT STORM) being plastered all over magazines, and thinking that no matter how good (or bad) his book might be, he was one darn good-looking man. A bookseller told me that the line of women who showed up at Junger’s booksigning stretched around the block. "I’m sure they came in because of that photo," she said, pointing to the giant bookstore poster featuring Junger’s drop-dead handsome face. "Because I’m damn sure most of them couldn’t care less about meteorology."

But gorgeous authors, like gorgeous people in general, are the exception. The vast majority of writers are simply average looking. When I attend writers’ conferences, and I look around the people gathered at the cocktail parties, I don’t see Hollywood-level glamor. I see gray hair and bald heads. I see faces that have never been touched by a plastic surgeon. And I see a lot of people who could stand to lose a few pounds. (When you’re parked in a chair eight hours a day, and the refrigerator is just a short walk down the hallway, weight gain is an occupational hazard.) Yet many of those average-looking people are powerhouse authors. Check out the photos of authors who are regulars on the New York Times bestseller list. Very few of them would turn your head if you saw them on the street. And some of them are downright homely. Never forget that V.C. Andrews became a mega-bestselling horror author despite the fact she was chronically ill and bedridden for her entire career.

Good looks never hurt, of course. If you’re a debut author, being gorgeous may get you a bit more attention from visual media like TV and glamor mags– you know, those shallow folks who care more about eye candy than gravitas. But after the first book, your looks become less and less relevant, because something far more important takes center stage: the quality of your writing — and your sales. If your books (and sales) suck, no publisher cares how gorgeous you are.

Which is why we writers are lucky to be in this profession. It’s one of the few jobs in which one is allowed to grow old without consequences, as long as we can turn out a quality product. Aging actresses find their roles drying up. Businessmen who turn 65 find themselves shoved aside by energetic young up-and-comers. But we writers can potentially keep writing books into our eighties. Our readers won’t care, as long as they keep loving our stories. We can even hide ourselves from the public if we so choose, as VC Andrews did all those years ago. Or we can slap a decades-old author photo on our book jackets and remain eternally ageless, as Dear Abby did for decades.

So here, in the end, is how I answered that writer’s question. I told her to give herself a little lift in spirits with a new haircut and a nice new outfit. Beyond that, I told her not to obsess over her looks and instead focus on writing a really terrific second book. Because that’s all the editor really cares about: whether a writer can turn out a great next book, and a next, and a next. Editors want an author with the potential for a long career. They want an author who’s reliable and pleasant. They want an author who can write.

No matter what she looks like.

When I grow up . . .

by Pari

The last few months have been rough. I’ve lost long-time friends and acquaintances who felt like friends. Everywhere I turned there was death. Now the obits and eulogies have been written and spoken. The candles have been lit, the sungs sung.

What’s left?

The lessons of a life. That’s what.

Years ago when I was a mere pup of 28, I went to a funeral of a co-worker. Patty Kuswa died in a single car rollover between Albuquerque and Santa Fe. She was in her 40s. We were all stunned. She was at work one day, the next morning she was dead. Her funeral was astounding. The church was filled; people who couldn’t find seats inside waited in the rain to express their condolences to her parents, husband and young sons. Patty had touched hundreds of people in our community, in several completely different sectors.

Patty wasn’t famous; she was just a damn fine human being. That’s all.

Tony Hillerman was, too. He managed never to lose his humility or his humanity. For most of us, that would’ve been a challenge. But Tony soared in this most competitive field and still, somehow, seemed like a regular guy.

For a week, I’ve been reading accounts from published and unpublished writers, from readers, about how he encouraged them to keep going, how he made everyone feel like an equal. He had a wonderful we’re-all-in-this-together attitude and it was a balm for each person he met.

Someone — either an agent or an editor — dubbed Tony as a "blurb slut." It’s true. He was. Just about any author who asked got one because Tony was all about lifting writers up. He’d give out the name and contact info of his agent to anyone who asked, too. He’d talk about writing, the craft, the business — anything — if you asked. And sometimes when you didn’t.

Frankly, Tony was the most generous writer I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine how many people wanted a piece of him, how many favors they asked of him. From what I saw, no matter how busy or sick he was, he said, "Yes."

Though I enjoyed his mysteries, I adored his nonfiction. Seldom Disappointed, his autobiograpy, is a joy. My favorite of all his books is The Great Taos Bank Robbery; it’s filled with marvelous humor and the kind of spare and perfect insight that marks the best of journalism.

In Judaism, when someone dies we say, "May his memory be a blessing."

Tony Hillerman gave — and his memory gives — an example of how to be the best. I mean that in every sense of the word.

I hope that as I grow up in this writing life that I can shine more brightly, give more . . . like Tony did, every day.

Stop Talking to Yourself, Mom

By Allison Brennan

“He was up and down like a restless puppy, alternately snapping out directives and singing lyrics. She didn’t know how anyone could get any work done that way. But she also knew he not only could, he had to.”
— CREATION IN DEATH by JD Robb

If we were all the same, we’d all be very boring. We don’t all like the same movies, television shows, books, or people. We don’t agree about politics, religion, or who should win the World Series. If we did, life would be dull and we’d walk around like robots.

Writers don’t write the same way. Some of us don’t like outlines or plots or any sort of real organization. Some of us need to plan down to which characters will be in every scene. Most of us are somewhere in between.

Some writers love the words themselves, how words become phrases and phrases complete thoughts. The cadence of the words that make up the story is as important as the story itself. For others, the words mean nothing without the story behind them.

Some writers take a year-or more-to craft their novel. Others, a few weeks. In his book ON WRITING, Stephen King says, “I believe the first draft of a book-even a long one-should take no more than three months, the length of a season.” He goes on to say he writes every day, and likes to write ten pages (about 2,000 words) which is 180,000 words at the end of three months.

The point is, some brilliant writers write one book a year . . . or every five years. Some writers write one book a season. It doesn’t make the former too slow or the latter too fast. It means that is how the stories come out.

I write fast. Once I get going and the characters take over and I stop trying to play God, I write as fast as I can to get the story out there.

It’s not pretty.

My first draft can be a bit of a mess. I edit as I go, so it’s pretty clean, but I don’t labor over the details. My transitions are rough, my setting is minimal, and half the time I forget to describe my characters. (I know what they look like, I rarely think to put it on paper until my editor mentions it.) If I need to research something that isn’t plot critical, I’ll put in XXX and keep writing. I can’t be slowed down to look up the name of a military base in Texas when it’s a minor backstory detail because I know that the minute I google the information, I’ll be online for an hour. That’s what revisions are for-at least for me. My first draft may come fast, but revisions take me just as long.

I don’t plot. No outlines, no plans, and I rarely know how everything is going to come together. It’s not unusual for me to be on page 450 of my projected 500 page manuscript, panicked, because I don’t know how my hero is going to stay alive. Yet, I’m constantly thinking about the book 24/7. Even in my sleep. Especially in my sleep. When I have a plot problem, if I’m thinking about it when I go to bed, nine times out of ten I have the solution when I wake up. If I don’t, it means that I went in the wrong direction, so I backtrack and try to figure out where I screwed up in the story.

I didn’t realize I was talking to myself, though. Thank God for hands-free cell phones-now I hope people assume I’m talking to someone over Bluetooth, not that I’m talking to my characters (or arguing with them.)

My son was five when he first said, “Mommy, why are you talking to yourself?”

Of course I denied it. I wasn’t talking to myself. Don’t be silly. So I turned up the music and started whispering. He still caught me.

“Mommy, I can see your lips moving in the rearview mirror.”

Damn smart kid.

I may not plot, but I do think a book to death. My characters walk on the stage fully formed, or I have to drag them out kicking and screaming. I picture a dozen opening scenes, discarding some, keeping others. I go back and forth until it hits me the best starting place. Sometimes it’s easier than others-with PLAYING DEAD I knew the first chapter was Claire’s father, a fugitive, confronting her and asking for her help. Sometimes it’s harder-with TEMPTING EVIL I wrote a half-dozen opening chapters before I settled on the beginning . . . and THEN that ended up being Chapter Three after revisions . . . after the teaser was printed in the back of KILLING FEAR . . .

As I’ve said before on Alex’s brilliant blog posts, I always get stuck at the beginning of Act Two . . . I cross the threshold and then WHAM! Can’t seem to find the Road of Trials . . .

For example, in SUDDEN DEATH (my April 09 book), I wrote crap for two months. 150 pages over and over because I couldn’t get past this one point. I was really worried because I actually had a lot of time to write this book, but now I was down to the wire . . . then I went off the Thrillerfest. I wrote on the plane, but it still wasn’t working. I tried to write during the conference, but was having too much fun (when I’m loving the story and it’s working, I can write anywhere, anytime-I wrote 60 pages at RT a couple years ago and they became the opening of SEE NO EVIL.) Then I got on the plane to go home and WHAM! It hit me. I knew what the problem was. I had a preconceived notion of backstory between Jack and Megan. I thought they’d known each other in the past. But every time I put them on the same page, it wasn’t working.

So I deleted everything but the first two chapters and wrote straight through for three weeks and finished the book before I left of RWA at the end of July.

Sure, there were some rough spots. And really, it wasn’t three weeks, because I was thinking about this dang story for three months before I even started writing. I also have a very kind, forgiving editor who just circles my XXX that I didn’t have time to research. And most important, I always expect a round of revisions. I want revisions. Why? Because no matter how good the story is-and the first two-thirds of SUDDEN DEATH was very tight when I sent it in-a good editor can help make a book better.

For example, in SUDDEN DEATH I have a killer who is truly mentally ill. He’s not right in the head. Therefore, I didn’t get into his head-I picked, instead, his partner who was sane. Much easier. My editor pointed out an obvious flaw-because the sane killer had her own covert plan, it wasn’t realistic that when I was in her head she wouldn’t be thinking about it.

Duh.

But I was scared to go into the head of someone who was insane. I’d never done that before. I’m talking about someone who really sees things, who really is not all there. His memory is not reliable . . . but my editor pushed me to do it because she said (rightfully) that it would really take the story to the next level. So I did it. It wasn’t easy, but it worked (I hope.) It was a challenge, and I pushed myself. And no matter what happens with the book, I’m proud of how that character evolved from a two-dimensional stereotype to a real person.

I’m not afraid to revise. In fact, I thrive on it. I’m also not afraid to delete. I tell people I deleted nearly 150 pages and they look at me like I’m crazy, or they start to hyperventilate because they can’t imagine deleting so much work. It’s not fun, but I don’t sweat over it. I’ve deleted twice as much . . . before I sold, I was thinking about my next project after I wrote a science-fiction romantic suspense (that didn’t sell.) I read some of the beginnings I had stashed away and came across a story I had called THE COPYCAT KILLER. The opening chapter was good, and the second chapter wasn’t bad, then the book completely deteriorated . . . 300 pages of total crap. Yep, you read that right . . . it’s not a typo. Three Hundred Pages. I deleted them all. Started with the foundation of those two chapters and wrote a completely different story.

That book became THE PREY, my debut novel.

Every writer has a different process. We have to work at our own pace. If I was given a year to write a book, I’d think about it a lot, but I wouldn’t actually start writing it until about eight weeks before it was due. I know me. I’m the person who waits until April 12th to start inputting my receipts into Quickbooks, then stays up until 2 a.m. three nights in a row because I have far more receipts that I thought . . .

My supernatural thriller series that launches in 2010 . . . I had the idea in August of 2003. In fact, I wrote the first couple chapters then, and have been thinking about the story for more than five years. I wasn’t ready to write it then; now I’m itching to get to it because it’s all clicked in my head. Would you say the book took five years to write . . . or three months?

I may be able to write and revise a book in eight weeks, but I couldn’t write six books a year. Why? Because I need that thinking time. I need to talk to myself, I need to sleep on plot problems. I need to get into the heads of my characters and see what makes them tick. I need to write and delete, write and revise, then think some more. That takes time. Writing time? Not so much. Thinking time? Absolutely. And if with the thinking comes some solo verbal communication, so be it.

And if my kids think that I’m a bit strange because I talk to myself, that’s not my problem. I’m writing.

To Blog – Or Not To Blog – That is the Question

“Last year I was asked to contribute to an article for The CWA monthly magzine RED HERRINGS, about Blogs and Writers. Naturally one of my first choices was to ask Elaine Flinn as I loved her ‘On The Bubble’. The essay was great but due to a conflict in schedules the commissioned piece was cancelled hence I never got to use Elaine’s essay. This week, I have been thinking about Elaine a great deal and of course I remembered the essay. So I thought it apt to pass it back to Murderati where she was one of the co-founders

– Ali Karim

TO BLOG – OR NOT TO BLOG – THAT IS THE QUESTION…

by Elaine Flinn

And it was a major question for me when Pari Noskin Taichert invited me to join Murderati. I was hesitant to take the plunge. I mean, the net was already burgeoning with author blogs. Could readers be interested in yet another one? I’m not an essayist, nor am I a short story writer. Hell, I can’t even write a short email. And anything I might have to say about the writing life, the publishing world or marketing – has been said umpteen times by others more eloquent. So what was left for me to offer? Not a damn thing, I quickly thought.

But I was intrigued, and knew that being on a blog was a great way to meet new readers and maybe get a gleaning of what they liked, or didn’t like. Pari had rounded up an interesting mix I thought might be unique. Her series has a quirky protag who promoted New Mexico, Naomi Hirahara had an ethnic protag, J.T. Ellison was newly agented, but unpublished, Jeff Cohen and Deni Dietz wrote humor, and Simon Wood was a hopeful horror writer. And moi? I have an antiques dealer who can’t stay out of trouble. But still, I was wary. I’m not presumptuous enough to think I had anything profound to say. While I’ve been fortunate to have garnered four nominations and the Barry Award for my mystery series, I still didn’t feel like an old salt or qualified to offer advice to anyone.

My Eureka moment arrived one night while I was watching David Rose. Interviews! Yes! That’s what I’ll do. I can’t make a fool of myself asking questions, right? I’ll interview writers. But I decided not to ask the same boring questions; how do you come up with plots?, what’s your writing schedule like?, etc, etc. I’ll mix it up – make it tongue-in-cheek – maybe throw in a serious one now and then. Thus, ON THE BUBBLE was born. So I signed on for a year. The fact that I had to come up with fifty-two author interviews hadn’t crossed my addled mind at that point.

Attracting readers for a blog is a slow process, but we trudged on hoping to increase our ‘hits’ and hoping like hell we’d accumulate more comments each day. I mean, we all supported each other on a daily basis, but comments from our fellow blog mates praising each other’s contributions was not what we were after. After about three or four months, we made great leaps and attracted more and more readers. Whew.

I like to think of the writing world as being organic. Change is constant – new sub-genres evolve, scores of new writers debut, some favorites fade away, certain plot themes are suddenly all the rage, and then quickly die. Blogs are susceptible as well to the evolving moods and interests of writers and readers. We experienced changes at Murderati which introduced new voices and new perspectives. When Paul Guyot joined us, that change was immediately apparent. His incredibly popular former blog – ‘Inkslinger’ – daily produced one of the highest traffic counts ever on the web. His legion of fans and friends were quick to engage him again at Murderati. And when Alexandra Sokoloff and Louise Ure came on board, we attracted yet another new set of readers. All great writers with singular voices sharing their world and how they view it. And that is – without doubt –the raison d’etre of a blog.

But I’ve mentioned change, have I not? And blogs – like the writing world – as being organic? Now, I too am part of that swinging door of evolution. I’ve left Murderati, and so has Paul Guyot. Why? Simple. Blogs, dear readers, are hungry beasts leaving few hours in the day to devote to OUR raison d’etre. Paul and I both knew that every minute blogging – was a minute lost writing.

My protag, Molly Doyle is an antiques dealer – and her word of caution to readers is – Caveat Emptor – Buyer Beware.

So – To Blog – Or Not To Blog? Writer Beware!

A Tribute to Elaine Flinn

NaNoWriMo – Are You In?

by J.T. Ellison

Happy Halloween!!! I’m eschewing a spooky post for the practical today, but wanted to wish everyone a safe and scary night!

It’s that time again.

November 1 signals the start of National Novel Writing Month, a fun, work-intensive exercise for novelists. The goal is simple and straightforward: write 50,000 words in thirty days. When you break it down, that’s a mere 1,666 words a day.

I heard that groan.

I can’t write that much a day, every day. I can’t handle the pressure of writing every day. I can’t put the time and effort into sitting at my computer, forsaking that hour on Facebook, and writing. Real words. Real stories. Real work. Can’t do it.

Be honest with yourself. Is the operative word in the above sentences can’t? Or should we replace every "can’t" with "I don’t want to?"

I love the principles behind NaNoWriMo. Write every day. Let’s repeat that. Write. Every. Day. This isn’t an unknown concept for professional writers. Truth be told, every month is NaNoWriMo when you’re a professional writer. Especially for those of us who write more than one book a year.

It’s become fashionable for some established authors to look down their nose at the NaNoWriMo exercise, labeling the participants wanna-bes, denigrating the experience. I sometimes think people forget where they come from. We all need to learn what works for us. We all need to understand what it’s like working on a deadline. Be it a real one or self-imposed, if you want to succeed as a writer, you need to know how to meet your deadlines.

So if you ask my opinion on NaNoWriMo, I’m going to say do it. Write like the ever-loving wind, and be proud of yourself for sticking with it. 1,666 words a day for a month. That is SO doable. I participated in 2005 (and hit my goal of 50K in 27 days, thank you
very much.) The output from that month became the second novel in the
Taylor Jackson series, 14. Yes, in the end I changed a lot of the
story. Yes, 50,000 words is only half of a real commercial novel. (Mine
come in at 100,000.) But those 50,000 words were a big part of the
framework of the book. I got a huge jump start on the title, which
helped me meet my crazy deadlines last year. So scoff if you want, but
I think it’s valuable.

My normal output when I’m puttering along is 1,000 words a day. When I’m really into it, I’m up to 2,000 a day. I have days I don’t write and then have crazy productive 6,000 or 7,000 word days to make up for it. But I do try to write everyday. I like the discipline it instills, like the feeling of accomplishment. I stuck to that for three books, and felt very productive.

I didn’t stick to that pattern for my latest, the bane of my existence book I just turned in. God, I hated writing that book. I was uncomfortable with the subject matter (necrophilia), unhappy with the characters, bored with my writing style (I think this is something that happens when you’re doing a series, but that’s a whole different post.) In general, every word onto the page was a tooth pulled, fewer strands of hair, dark circles under the eyes, bitching at the husband and a ten pound weight gain. I was miserable writing that book.

You know why? Because looking back, no matter what excuse I come up with, I knew I wasn’t being as serious about it as I should have been. It took me months to write, actually the longest it’s ever taken me to write a book. I wasn’t following the cardinal rule of professional writing.

ASS IN CHAIR

I was letting myself get distracted, allowing myself to be derailed, pushing the book from my mind to do anything BUT write. And when I finally typed ### at the end, I made myself a promise. Never. Again.

NaNoWriMo teaches new writers and aspiring authors the cardinal rule. It’s an invaluable lesson, both in discipline and in freedom. Because when you’re writing fast, you don’t have the luxury of introspection. Introspection, we all know, equals writer’s block. We allow ourselves to get caught up on a specific word, or phrase. We labor over the paragraphs, inch by measly inch. NaNoWriMo enables writers to discard their internal editor and just write. It’s exceptionally effective.

You can’t go in willy nilly though. You need a solid concept, an idea. Yes, you can write 50,000 words of gibberish, but that defeats the purpose. The idea is to write a novel. To tell a story that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. You need characters, a true conflict, a build, a climax, and a proper denouement. It’s a practice novel for some, it’s the first half for others. Still more writers can take that 50K and distill it into a novella, or a couple of good short stories. You can play with point of view, find out where you’re comfortable writing – first or third – and experiment with genres. There are no rules except write everyday. Refreshing, eh?

Anyone who’s ever attempted to write a novel knows that it’s easy to get started, much more difficult to finish. So the most paramount goal of NaNo is to finish with work product that is usable. Yes, that makes it more challenging. The sponsors of the program encourage you to free think and free write, to pour the words on the page. While that is fun, you should keep in mind that your work product can become something real. A little forethought and planning can be a paycheck later on.

Here’s something else to think about. There is a community that exists at NaNoWriMo. The regions and the individual cities each have their own groups, who get together and have Write Ins. Yes, that sounds a little cheesy, but I can’t tell you how many emails I get from new writers who are looking for critique groups. This allows you a jump start on finding a group of like-minded individuals to work with. The usual rules apply – look out for people who criticize instead of offering constructive criticism, don’t get bullied, etcetera, etcetera.

I’d even suggest that if you do participate, you use your extensive knowledge of the publishing industry, gleaned here at Murderati and through your research, to help educate the writers around you. Knowledge, my friends, is power. The more we share our hard-won knowledge with other writers, the better our community is.

When you’re just starting out, it helps to make a public declaration of your intent to become a published author. Many millions of people say they want to be a writer. How many actually sit down and write that first sentence? And how many of those will write the second, much less finish a full-length piece of commercial fiction? Not so many. So participating in an exercise like NaNoWriMo may just be the action these aspiring writers need to push them over the edge into actual writing.

I just finished writing my 5th full-length novel. It’s still slightly surreal that come November 1, I’ll be starting my 6th. Why do I need NaNoWriMo?

Need isn’t the right term for me. I want to do it. No, I won’t be hanging around the coffee shops and write ins, but I enjoy the structure. I have a book due March 1 and another due September 1. I’m considering a non-fiction project that I’d have to sandwich in between the two fiction titles. I’d like to judge an awards category again. I want to read, expand my horizons. The research I’m doing for book 5, THE IMMORTALS, has been a blast, and I want to give myself enough leeway to adjust as needs be as I go because of new influences. I love to see the word count increase, to feel like I’m accomplishing something. Will I make it? Probably. If I don’t, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll keep plugging away regardless.

That’s the other point to take away today. If you don’t make the goal, it doesn’t mean you haven’t succeeded. Remember that. Don’t set unrealistic expectations for yourself, and don’t get down on yourself if life gets in the way. It is hard to do all this work with the holidays looming. (If you do 2,000 a day, you’ll be finished BEFORE Thanksgiving.)

Ultimately, I hope that some of the NaNoWriMo participants will see traditionally published authors in their midst and know that yes, it is possible. Maybe it will inspire them to try to hit that goal after all.

And just to make this fun, here’s a little pay it forward trick or treat for you:

Those of you who participate and win, ie: get certification from NaNoWriMo that you’ve completed the 50K in 30 days, can send me your name and proof of completion and I’ll enter you into a drawing for a critique of your first 25 pages. I’ll choose one at random and do the critique myself. How’s that sound?

So what about you? Are you going to participate? What do you do to get that daily word count in?

Wine of the Week: Vampire: The Blood of the Vine