The Wizard of Oz Time Machine

I was surprised at how bored the kids were with the Wizard of Oz.  It's a children's movie. They are the correct demographic for it. Music, singing, magic, witches, animal costumes, 100 little people...what's not to like? It had been a lot of years since I had seen it last, so I knew I'd enjoy it too. And I did.

They didn't. I was annoyed at first that they didn't fit my fantasy of how kids should react to it. Perhaps my annoyance was my problem and not their fault. But still...

I told them the move was made more than 80 years ago. That's a long, long time, I said trying to impress on them that this was a piece of history. The older one asked "Are any of those people still alive?" The answer, of course, is no. The younger one asked "What about the little dog? Is it dead too?" Yes, it is.

Silence.

"Ohhhh, we're off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of ..."

"Can I play on the computer?"


Sigh.

They are who they are, living in the age they live in. Both of them were born into a different century than the rest of us. Bill Clinton and Benjamin Franklin are historical figures shrouded with dust and cobwebs.

The Wizard, Dorothy, the Scarecrow and Toto are playing out a story that was written when Queen Victoria (who?) was still alive. Two children from a CGI world full of Angry Birds and Ipads were being asked to pay attention to a story illustrated by painted cardboard and acted out by the ghosts of dead people.

So I watched the movie and enjoyed it and they played a Sponge Bob video game and enjoyed it. They are both smarter than I am. They already know there's no place like home.

Picking out a .99 book

I approach a .99 book the same as any other, look at the cover, the blurb, read the sample. The cover MUST be somewhat professional looking and the blurb shouldn't have any spelling or grammar errors. However, if the cover is really bad and the blurb is really bad then it saves you wasting your time on the sample. (This applies to indie books only). If those three things are good, I'll buy it. I figure even if it's not Hemingway, it's someone with enough skill and talent to entertain me for a few hours and that's really all I ask.

Writing for a living

Is writing a joy or a chore? Check out what several writers have to say on the issue. This is a snippet of what Joyce Carole Oats says:

Given that the act of writing provokes such misery, why do you do it? – here is the writer's perennial riddle. Every writer is asked this question, or its artful variants, and every writer comes up with some plausible answer, the most arresting of which would seem to have been Flannery O'Connor's: "Because I'm good at it." It's rare that a writer – a literary writer, that is, like Colm Tóibín – will acknowledge that he writes for money, since most literary writers obviously don't write for money – a prose fiction writer's hourly wage, broken down into units, would be in the modest range of the US minimum wage of the 1950s – approximately $1 per hour.

And why do I write? In light of the fact that it's painful, tedious and ignored?

Because I love it. Which is a good thing because I have no choice.

Critics

Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
- Christopher Hampton

The Virtual Traveler: High Tea in Darjeeling

The Virtual Traveler visits a city in the clouds.

High Tea in Darjeeling

The Virtual Traveler

The Virtual Traveler (virtual, adj., existing or resulting in essence or effect though not in actual fact, form, or name) exists only in my mind but she's a globe trotter, always curious about what's around the next corner.

This time it's the fabulous and ancient Ggantija Temples of Gozo, the second-largest island of Malta.

http://tinyurl.com/Ggantija

The Straight Dope From Macmillan

And every word of it is true.

I swear.

Why Not Buy One?

I open my IGoogle page this morning and I'm greeted with this:

"I can't understand why a person will take a year to write a novel when he can easily buy one for a few dollars." - Fred Allen

Neither can I Fred, neither can I.

But I write them anyway.

Neil Gaiman at Google

Neil Gaiman talking about the writing life on the Google Campus.

“We read five words on the first page of a really good novel and we begin to forget that we are reading printed words on a page; we begin to see images.” - John Gardner

I like to write beautifully. My daydream of my skills (as opposed to the reality of my skills) is that my writing is so beautiful that people will quote passages as if they are poems.

And then I want to write seamlessly. I want to write like John Gardner describes. I want you to forget you are reading and just be in the story as it goes by.

The second wish is whispered into my ear by my better angel. I do love to read beautiful writing--turns of phrases that catch my breath, descriptions that raise goosebumps--but, frankly, if the story is good I don't like to be reminded that I'm reading. I don't want to hear from the author. I don't want the author sticking her nose into my good time. I don't want her interrupting my adventure, my romance or my mystery.

So when I write I just try to shut up and play my guitar (with apologies to Frank Zappa). I work hard not to interrupt my reader in what I hope is the midst of a good time by not calling attention to the writing itself.

Darn it.

The Wovel

I heard about this on NPR a few days ago and have been thinking about it.

This is from their website:

Every week, the author posts an installment. Installment length hits the sweet-spot of online reading—long enough to get interested, short enough to read in the cubicle at work. At the end of every installment, the author writes in a plot branch point. Does the heroine kill her lover? Will the zombies catch the soldier? Is the box empty, or is it filled with bees?

THE READERS DECIDE.

On Monday, the post goes up. Voting is open through Thursday. The author writes Thursday and Friday. The editors edit Friday and Saturday. The post goes back up on Monday. Part literature, part exquisite corpse. The pace of print journalism, the imagination of fiction, the spark of reader participation.

It all goes by the ugly name of "wovel" as in "web/novel"--at least at the Underland Press.

Back in the last century it would have been called a serialized novel. Magazines once routinely had them. Some of Agatha Christie's books saw light of day for the first time in little chunks published in popular magazines. But, of course, Christie would be in charge of the plot and most people were ok with that.

After they finish serializing it, they plan to publish it as a book. As a business model I'm not sure how well that will work but the interactive element can only help it.

Firstworld, the particular novel they are serializing (woveling?) has some promise, from what little I've read of it. Telling the story in the the present tense is a tad cutsey--you should never do silly tricks like that unless you're trying to please a college creative writing professor--but they are doing some nice worldbuilding and the story looks like a fun adventure.

Check it out and let me know what you think.

I Need Your Help!!

As I mention in the post below I am entering the Button Man in the ABNA contest. One of the things I have to include in the "package" is a pitch. The pitch is what they will use to decide if I get into the contest at all. Therefore the pitch must be really, really good.

I have uploaded a preview of the Button Man pitch here:
https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1053044

I have asked some specific questions about the pitch, but if you have anything else you'd like to say, you can post it here. Please give me your unvarnished opinion. I already have a lot of friends who uncritically adore everything I write.

Thank you!

More on the Button Man

I'd like to thank everyone for their kind comments!

The Button Man is a work in progress. I THINK I'll have it done for the ABNA novel contest right now I'm barreling down to what I hope is the exciting conclusion and in my spare time (uh, yeah) polishing the first part. If I finish in time and do enter it in the contest, I'll post a link to the first 5000 words which is about a chapter and a half. If I don't get it submitted in time, I'll put the first chapter on my main website.

Meanwhile I'll continue to post little snippets from time to time.

Harlan Ellison on Getting Paid

Harlan Ellison (a fabulous science fiction writer) rants about writers getting paid for their work. Warning! VERY salty language!

Free 2009 Calendar!

I've put a 2009 Calendar on my website for free download. Enjoy!

http://www.coganbooks.net

Another Taste of the Button Man

Mrs. Button was at her Ma Jong club and it was the housekeeper’s day off. Gregory had the entire house to himself. He went to the arboretum to work with his plants but discovered to his delight that one of his toads, the Bufo thalinus, had produced a mass of gelatinous eggs. The scent glands of Bufo thalinus secreted a very rare and valuable poison, but it was quite a bit stronger in the eggs themselves. He collected all but a few of the eggs, submersed them in alcohol to stop their development and began the slow process of distillation. In a couple of days he’d have nearly two centiliters of fast and painless death.

That done, he slipped on two pairs of latex gloves and began to transplant his bloodred nightshade seedlings. These weren’t especially poisonous but they did cause rapid unconsciousness, as Mr. Matthews had discovered moments before he died.

Gregory worked happily in silence for a time. He had to go to the temple in a couple of hours and pretend to become enlightened, but for now all was truly serene. Until the cellphone in his pocket vibrated. He couldn’t bear the noise of the ring when he was working in the arboretum, but he didn’t like to be entirely cut off from potential employment. Those Bufo thalinus would be tremendously less expensive if he could acquire them legally and Mrs. Button was extremely fond of Chanel.

He was pleased that it was only a text message. “Happy with first book, want to buy three more. D.” The caller id was blocked but he knew the identity of the customer. Three more? Gregory didn’t like to do package deals. Such a sudden rise in mortality associated with a single person could cause all the wrong kinds of comment from all the wrong kinds of people—like the police. He thumbed in her number and tapped out “1 hr” and hit “send.” She’d know where.

ABNA

If you haven't checked it out, look up the Amazon Breakthrough Novel competition.

If you have an unpublished novel it might be worth a try. Go here for details:
https://www.createspace.com/Member/ABNADashboard.do

Second post of the Year

I have recently punctured a writer's block of Biblical proportions. I did it by doggedly starting at the blank screen and typing whatever thin, pale idea that traced across my mind.

So the Button Man is back on track and I'll probably finish it in time to submit it for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. Hey, it's only a month away.

No pressure.

First Post of the Year

I've committed to posting once a day every day in January. My brains are smoking just thinking about it. I'm already one post behind so this is the one that is for January 1 even though it's being posted January 2.

Snip of the Button Man

Max sat at the little kitchen table in his apartment with Kara’s file scattered in front of him. On top was a close up of her face. She looked like she’d cried herself to sleep. According to the ME she hadn’t died instantly, so there was a good possibility that she’d lay there with her life draining away for as much as half an hour.

The killer had shot her down and just walked away. At first, looking at that photo had twisted his guts. Now two months later he felt like he was with her, comforting her as she died. A jogger had found her while he was cutting through the Temple parking lot and called 911. The ME said she’d been there pretty much all night.

Max touched a corner of the photograph. All night alone in the dark.

He’d interviewed the jogger for details until the poor man threatened to get a restraining order. He’d found the body in a perfectly empty parking lot. Period. There was no more.

The gun had been a .22—a Saturday night special. If it had been a higher caliber, the wound might not have been fatal. But the .22 bullet bounced off a rib, then off her spine, nicked the superior vena cava before coming to rest in her left lung. With a more powerful gun the bullet would probably have gone straight through her. The shot would have been louder and someone might have called the cops and saved her life.

Could-a, would-a, should-a . . . there were no do-overs. She was dead.

A snippet of the "Button Man," my novel in progress:

He rounded a bend and the street was visible in the distance. Streetlights, passing cars, lots and lots of places to disappear into. The burst of adrenaline-fueled speed was not going to last long. Already his breath burned in his throat. In a few seconds it wasn't going to matter.

"Hey!"

What? Was it a cop or the mystery gunman? Gregory resisted the temptation to glance behind him. It didn't really matter who was back there. "Hey" was bad. His heart thundered in his chest. He stumbled. Sidewalk. Instinctively he turned in the direction of his car, not that he expected to make it that far. He remembered the big church on this side of the street and had a brief irrational thought about sanctuary. It had a big unlit sign out front. That would do. He ran around behind it, tripped over some kind of pipe sticking out of the ground and fell onto the cold damp grass. He lay there sucking air like a broken bellows while the dim steeple swam darkly above him. He heard a volley of footsteps and tried to hold his breath. He couldn’t stop panting, but whoever it was ran on by.

Write or Die!

Just found a wonderful website called "Write or Die." The title certainly describes me.

http://lab.drwicked.com/writeordie.html

The tag line is "putting the 'prod' in 'production.'" It certainly looks like it would help with production.

I tried the writing tool at lunch time and it was fabulous. I think it could seriously work.

Showing not Telling

On a writer's board I visited this morning someone asked how you show and not tell.

One of the ways you can see if you are telling or showing is to ask "how do you know that's the case or what happened?"

Then you describe it as if you were proving it happened.

This is telling: The moon rose

This is showing: The moonlight cast deep shadows across the meadow.

It answers the question
"How do you know the moon was shining?"

How do you know it was a red sports car?
The car sped by in a flash of red.

How do you know he was scared?
His hands were shaking.

How do you know the vic was murdered?
"Her body lay crumpled on the floor like a dropped rag doll."

How do you know the forest was silent?
"Not a leaf stirred among the dark trees"

You get the idea.

How to Make a Story

What if a girl got trapped in time and had a magic egg which sings Madonna tunes?

Um. Great! But that's not a story. It's kind of an interesting situation, but way not a story.

To make this little fragment a story you have to ask some questions:

What does she want out of life? What's she trying to accomplish? Is trapped in time a good thing or a bad thing? What are her goals? Why does she get out of bed in the morning?

Once you've answered those questions, then there's a second set that must be asked:

Who's going to try to stop her? Or what? It's not a story unless there are roadblocks in her way. If trapped in time is a bad thing, how's she going to get out of her predicament? If trapped in time is a good thing, who wants to take it away from her?

Once you start answering these questions you have begun to make a story.

Journal for Your Life

"I try to keep a journal from time to time," a friend told me once, "But my life just isn't that interesting."

You are either writing or you are leading an interesting life. It's really tough to do both at the same time. I have done both--trust, me I have done both--but not at the same time.

You don't journal about your life. You journal for your life.

I journal every chance I get. I don't talk much about my life, which I very carefully keep as straightforward and boring as possible. I talk to myself about all kinds of stuff as if the journal were my friend. I describe things--the moon, my cats, the fruity stuff I'm drinking at the moment.

Why bother? It's writing. Therefore it's writing practice. It's also kinda fun. I play around describing people and scenes, telling little storylets. I think on paper about characters and situations. That kind of brainstorming is extremely valuable when I'm in a point in a story or novel where I don't really know what should happen next.

My notebook is about 6x9, small enough to slip in my purse or carry around under my arm. I have a favorite brand of pens (Pilot G2 gel ballpoint)--I find that the right pen is important. I don't type my journal. I don't know why. I guess for some kinds of writing it's not real unless there's scribbly handwriting on lined notebook paper.

Writers write. Duh. Having the notebook/journal with you at all times not only gives you something to do when you are bored (waiting rooms, standing in line at the grocery store, during a boring lecture (they think you're taking notes)), it creates an opportunity to always be practicing.

But most important--at least to me--is keeping your art close to you. I like to keep it close to my heart.

Review: The Cat Who Saw Stars

The Cat Who Saw Stars (The Cat Who... Series #21)
by Lilian Jackson Braun
Publisher: Jove
January 2000

Ok. Don't put this book on your "to read" list. Life is short. Take my word for it.

This book is 21st in a series with beloved characters Jim Qwilleran and his two delightful Siamese cats Yum Yum and Koko. The author has to hit all the bases--the terrain of the small lakeside town and it's colorful denizens--and manages to work it all in while sacrificing the story. In fact, there is no story.

Early in the book the psychic (sort of) cat helps Qwilleran find a dead body. That's it. Bye-bye. That's not the story. Are you curious who he is and why he died? Too bad, there was never time to figure it out. We never find out anything about this poor schmuck and nobody in the book seems to care. Later another character--who is never actually depicted on stage, though he is gossiped about--disappears. A tad more attention is payed to this character, but only because people are fond of his wife--who never appears on stage. We learn about her through gossip. This is very annoying.

The main character and the cats were nice and the writing is very smooth and visual so I figured there would surely be a story in there somewhere. I showed up for a story and I got Quilleran's vacation. We find out that the guy who disappeared was murdered but only because someone calls Quilleran up and tells him when, how and who--in case anybody cares.

Even Robert Parker does a better job giving you a story, even though he’s obviously totally bored with Spenser and the gang. Over the years his writing has become pedestrian (“Hawk is my friend,” he said. “That’s the kind of friends we are,” he said. “I’m a big guy,” he said. “You’re scaring me to death,” he said. Someone needs to buy Parker a big box of synonyms for “said.”). But Parker still gives you full value for your $7.95. There will be a story with clues and detection of them. There will be a Bad Guy who will actually be an on-stage character. One way or the other we are probably going to care just a little bit about Mr. Body. It may be pretty similar to the book Parker wrote in 1983, but different enough you can maintain your interest.

Lilian Jackson Braun could have phoned this in. This book is nothing but "product." She has a brand and has to produce product. So she sat at her word processor and processed some words. Bleah. My copy was bought used at a second hand sale for $2. I was ripped off.

Active Verbs, Active Characters

I was walking down the street.

suck!

"was" is the verb of the above sentence. It's a verb of being. Sometimes a verb of being is exactly what you need. Generally, though "was" is a lousy verb. So let's get rid of it.

I walked down the street.

That is ever so much better! The problem with "walked" is it doesn't do anything but lie there. So to speak. "Walked" doesn't convey any emotion or bring any particular image to mind. What's going on that you want to convey? Feelin' groovy? How about "strolled" down the street? Pissed off? How about "stomped" down the street? Nervous? How about "stumbled" down the street?

Eventually you'll develop a habit of making verbs do double duty. They will move your characters around the stage and they'll clue your reader in on what's happening beneath the surface.

Your sentences will show, not tell.

The next thing is keeping your characters moving. You give them strong, active verbs to get them up off the couch and then you need to have challenges for them to overcome. That is the essence of story.

Action needs to do double duty as well. It needs to keep the pressure on the character and also convey some other meaning, something which connects with the reader. That's why a lot of tv detective shows will depict some kind of friendship between the detective and someone else who either becomes "Ms. Body" or is accused of murder. The action creates an emotional connection (cheesy and superficial in the case of most tv shows) with the reader.

The reader is part of the story and their part needs to be carefully considered and planned. "I was walking down the street" excludes the reader. The reader doesn't have a way into the story with that kind of vague action. The more specific you get the more the reader is invited in and becomes one of the players on your stage.

A Taste of the Button Man

This is a snippet of the first Button Man short story. Let me know what you think!

"So what do you like to be called? Are you an assassin? A hit man? Murderer for hire?"

Gregory looked at his inquisitor, a middle-aged man, graying around the edges and cadaverously thin.

"I am sometimes referred to as the Button Man. I prefer to be called Gregory."

The man nodded gravely. "Gregory it is, then. You may call me Mr. White. It took me months to contact you. It appears you are in very high demand because of your specialty. I am told you specialize in killing people gently, with no fear or pain. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir. It is immoral to inflict suffering in another human being."

"It's not immoral to murder them?"

Gregory gazed out across the city. His client had chosen a rooftop cafe for their meeting. A good choice. He'd been asked this question before and he was prepared with the answer.

"It is deeply immoral to take the life of another human, but I take responsibility for it."

Writers Write

Every person who is genuinely serious about the art of writing should watch this:



You can see the entire interview here:
Jeffry Archer in Conversation

Writers write. Duh. I write every day for 1 or 2 hours depending on my schedule and that's because I have a full time job. That means it takes me abut a year to write a book. I'm trying to figure out a way to write more or to write faster--preferably both. I have SO many stories I want to write!!! Life is both sweet and short and I feel like I need to get cracking.

It's not work. I enjoy it. Sometimes I sit there and blood drops have to form on my forehead before the words start to come, and I wonder why does anyone on earth subject themselves to this, especially me? But sometimes--and this is so delicious--sometimes the characters write themselves and I'm just channeling the story in a blissful bubble that's outside time and space. That's when I'm reveling in words and images, language and the fleshiness of the human race. I wonder how can anybody be anything but a writer?

That happy place outside time and space never comes unless I have been writing regularly. It's not something dabblers get. It's not something angst-ridden teenagers get. It's something that happens when you are a writer who writes.

The Writing Excuses Podcast

I have been listening to these guys chat about writing all morning and I'm very impressed. I think they are all published writers--I haven't sorted out who is who yet--and so far every scrap of everything they talk about is gold.

I just finished listening to Episode 23: Viewpoint. Most new writers I read have absolutely no idea what viewpoint is or why it's important. These guys lay it out for you with humor and style.

The breezy conversation goes by so fast I keep being afraid I'm going to miss a priceless nugget, so I'll be listening to them over and over.

If you are serious about the art and craft of writing I recommend you stampede over there and subscribe to the podcast. If you aren't serious about writing it will at least be entertaining.

Writing Excuses

3 Tips for New Writers

Three things new (and not so new) writers need to work on:

1. Passive voice: "The wall was struck by the car" is flabby. "The car struck the wall" is strong.

2. Viewpoint. It might be helpful to write a draft in 1st person viewpoint. You can switch to 3rd person later, but 1st person is like training wheels to keep the viewpoint consistent. A short story and certain types of genre novels (e.g. mysteries, romances) need to have a single viewpoint. An individual scene in a novel needs to have a single viewpoint. Jumping around from viewpoint to viewpoint is called "head hopping." It seems reasonable to the writer who can "hear" everyone's thoughts, but it sucks big time for the reader. The reader is giving you a precious gift--their time and attention. We need to more than return the favor by giving them a good story.

3. Keep it Lean. Write the story full out with all the back story, the explanations, the weather report, whatever you want to put in. Save that and then do a "save as" and start to cut. Cut out every word that doesn't pertain to the central action of the story. Too much clutter slows the story down and bores the reader. It's good practice to write flash fiction--short stories with just 1000 words. If you've just got a 1000 words, you are forced to keep it lean.

A bonus extra that should probably go without saying:
Write all the time. If people start to complain that you're writing too much, you are probably hitting about the right level of output.

Review: Sins and Needles

Sins and Needles
by Monica Ferris
Berkley, June 2006

As I've mentioned before I have a serious weakness for Monica Ferris's needlework mysteries. I love mysteries and I love needlework, so what's not to adore?

Sigh.

I think this is ninth in the series and I've read, well, nine of them. Some are much better than others. This is one of the others.

There's much to like. Though the elderly Edith Hanraty dies pretty early on (she's Ms. Body in this episode), her personality is so nicely drawn she dominates the story from beyond the grave. The descriptions of the wonderful antiques are luminous and you really feel like you are getting a tour of an old house filled with beautiful things.

The descriptions and depictions of the gallery of suspects isn't so hot. It took me much of the book to tell them apart. Almost no effort was expended making them unique. Most of the clues were telegraphed from a mile off. I figured out who did it from about the second or third time the "it" person was introduced. Betsy, our sleuth--you know, the character who is supposed to be the star of the story? She wasn't on stage for most of the scenes. Godwin, a charming and engaging sidekick, barely has a speaking part. Jill, the female cop and best friend, has only a cameo and Sophie the cat--one of the most fun features of the Crewel World world--didn't even get that. She simply didn't exist.

If Ferris is bored with the characters and setting, she should write something else. Imagine a Nero Wolfe story without Archie, where orchids are never mentioned and Fritz never cooks a meal. I willingly revisit that world over and over because I love that world and those characters. I don't want to go to the old brownstone and find out Fritz is on a six-month sabbatical. Rex Stout also sometimes had trouble drawing a unique gallery of suspects, but he was so good at hiding the clues in the story landscape you could pretty much forgive him and when Wolf closed his eyes and started to push his lips in and out you knew something exciting was about to be revealed.

Ferris seems to be averse to tension, even in small dribbles. This is a cozy and wild car chases are not expected. But a little bit of suspense would be nice. Ferris has a smooth writing style and she likes people, which is a prerequisite to being a good writer, but she really needs to study story structure. Even her best books suffer from structural problems.

I would have liked her to have exploited the Edith character a lot more. Betsy and Edith should have been good friends. An emotional connection between Betsy and the victim would have created an emotional connection between the audience and the story. Betsy (or Godwin or, for heavens sake, the cat) should have been in danger at some point. There should have been a "dark moment" when the story hits roadblocks at every turn and the puzzle looks insoluble and it looks--for just a moment--as if the murderer is going to get away with it.

I'll keep reading them. As I said there is a lot here to like. Betsy/Monica Ferris understands needlework and knows how stitchers and needleworkers feel about their art. That is very compelling. Her characters are compelling. I feel like I know them.

Come on, Monica. the only way I ever get to pet Sophie or enjoy Godwin's silly sense of humor is through your imagination. If you want to move on to a new series, I'm a writer too and I understand. But if you intend to keep this series going, do it for real.

Writing Blogs

I've been reading writing blogs lately. I haven't ever really explored that genre of blog even though I've had a writing blog for a while now.

I've found one called "Confident Writing" that I like. It's written by Joanna Young and she even has a podcast. She has a very pleasant British voice.

I've read a little of Angela Booth's Writing Blog. Much of seems to not be the kind of writing I'm interested in--freelance nonfiction--but still writing is writing and there are nice posts about brainstorming, making goals and reducing stress. I will explore it some more.

Write to Done isn't updated as often as I'd like and sometimes the posts can be a little tangential. But it's a beautiful site and I like the guy who maintains it because I like his other blog Zen Habits which is mostly inspiration, efficiency and how to keep a clean house. (I think keeping a clean house is a wonderful idea. I may try it some day.)

Do you believe George Orwell has a blog? Well, not really since he died in 1950. But his diary is being serialized in blog format. So far it's been all weather reports and glimpses of life in rural England, but I've heard it really gets interesting later on. I check in on it every couple of days.

This isn't a blog but if you like Kurt Vonnegut (or even if you don't) it's fun.

If anyone knows of any good blogs about the craft and art of writing please post a comment here!

Button Man = Killer for Hire

I'm working on a Button Man novel. I'm calling it Death at Your Side. It's a mystery, of course, and Gregory--the Button Man--figures out who done it but it's also more than that. In this novel I want to explore life and death and what they mean to different people and try to look at this classic topic from some different angles.

The 2nd Button Man story I wrote came in 4th place in the Deadly Ink contest. I didn't finish in the money, but I will be included in the anthology. When that is published I'll post a link to it. The first Button Man story is at Alfred Hitcock magazine and has been for months. I don't know if that's a good or a bad sign.

I still get up early before work and write for an hour each morning but I've also added a writing hour after work as well. I'm trying to consistently write an average of 3 pages per day. That's a novel first draft in about 3-4 months, a respectable pace. This thing of taking a year for a rough draft and a year and a half for the rewrite has got to become a thing of the past!

I strongly recommend this interview with Natalie Goldberg, author of Writing Down the Bones (a book I love and highly recommend).
http://thoughtcast.org/casts/natalie-goldberg

Goldberg has some interesting and thoughtful things to say about the writing life that we love.

Top 100 Semi-Finalist

The Man Who Needed Killing finished in the Top 100 Semi-Finalists in the Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel contest.

Ok, I'm a little bummed that I didn't make it into the top 10 (and then, of course, win it all) but it's not something a little chocolate--and a lot more writing--won't cure.

I'd like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. All but 2 of the reviews were 5 Star (two were 4 star) and I think they really helped boost me into the top 100. And they were certainly good for my ego!

The book is now in the hands of my agent and "Top 100 Semi-Finalist" will be prominent in the proposal. I have yet to break through to a big-time New York publisher, but this contest may put me over the top even though I didn't win.

And, of course, I'm focused on writing the next book :-)

AW Blogchain Post: Writing the Ending

Kat from The Thoughtful Life has tagged me to be next in the Absolute Write blog chain.

She wrote: “How to you determine the ending of your story? Do you write the happy ending you want and readers expect? Or do you work on mixing it up and not being predictable.”

Endings are important. I’ve seen movies and read books that have the “wrong” ending. I hated them. I didn't congratulate the author for imaginative and creative thinking. Instead I trashed them to anybody who would listen.

Oddly, stories with the "wrong" ending don’t show up that often because people have a cultural, intuitive grasp of “how the story should go.” Story plots are as old as the human race, but in 250,000 years we’ve never gotten tired of them and we aren’t going to any time soon.

Everybody knows how Lord of the Rings is going to end. Sauron is going to die in some spectacular way and Frodo will emerge victorious. From the first sentence of that thousand page story, the ending is never in doubt and that’s true of most genre fiction. Miss Marple is going to solve the mystery, so is Nero Wolfe. In romances girl is going to meet boy, girl is going to lose boy, girl is going to get boy back. Happy ending. What if girl loses boy, never marries, and ends up living a fulfilling life as a doctor in Indonesia? It’s a happy ending but your audience is going to feel cheated. They’ll write you hate mail--and those will be the ones who decide not to send a letter bomb.

For years people were worried that Rowling would kill off Harry Potter in the last book of the series. There’s a rumor that Stephen King (yes, that Stephen King) called her and begged her not to do it. Nobody would have been outraged over it because even if Harry died, as long as Voldemort ended up as a steaming pile of toast the books would still have the “right” ending.

To answer Kat’s question above, if we are talking genre fiction (and I am; it’s all I read and all I write) then, yes, the ending is predictable and you can’t change it to save your life. What you do to keep from writing the same book over and over is make the journey from here to there interesting. Develop delightful characters and put them through hell. Make sure there are twists, turns, setbacks and surprises. Mr. (or Ms.) Bad Guy is going to lie, cheat, steal, commit violence upon your person and otherwise hand your hero a world of suck.

Even if the hero dies, even if your reader uses up an entire box of tissues they'll still feel they’ve had rousing good story and they’ll thank you for it.

Now it’s time for me to pass the baton to The Virtual Wordsmith

And here are the other participants in the chain:
living my life all over again
Spontaneous Derivation
Jenn Hollowell: Working Writer
Peregrinas
Techtainment
Anything That Pays
Polenth's Quill
wfg thinks out loud
Spittin' (out words) Like a Llama
A Thoughtful Life
The Speakeasy
Virtual Wordsmith
The Writer's Round-About
My Copious Notes Blog
Tennessee Text Wrestling
Writings
Twisted Fantasy
awchain

REVIEW: The Cinderella Caper

The Cinderella Caper
Herschel Cozine
Mouth Full of Bullets

What a delightful story!

This is a new take on the old Cinderella fairy tale. Cindy has crashed the king's party, romanced the prince and walked out with the royal silverware. Now the prince is having every girl in the kingdom try on a glass slipper because he, uh, wouldn't recognize her face. So the king hires our hard-boiled detective to get the goods on the girl and get back the loot she took.

The tale is told in a fine hardboiled Hammett-esque style and is full of wonderful lines like "The page nodded as only a page can nod" and "I'm afraid Junior's piano doesn't have all its keys."

The story has a few little flaws--the hero throws on a tunic instead of a cloak. A tunic is a shirt. Kings and queens are "Your Majesty," not "Your Highness." The prince is a "highness." The only serious flaw is a lot of telling and very little showing which makes the story very un-visual.

But these little glitches weren't enough to spoil my enjoyment. It's a fresh retelling of an old standard and well worth the read.

Absolute Write Blog Chain

It's headed my way. If you want to play along, start here:
http://auriacortes.com/random-thought-find-your-voice-as-a-writer/

at the bottom of each post there will be a pointer to the next link in the chain.

Enjoy!

REVIEW: Embroidered Truths

Embroidered Truths
Monica Ferris
Berkely Prime Crime Mystery (2006)

Monica Ferris's needlework mysteries are a serious weakness of mine. Now you know the worst about me.

If you enjoy the sweaty, muscular two-fisted Miss Marple novels, if you love the gritty reality of the mysteries where cats are the detectives, then needlwork mysteries might be a little too cozy for you.

This is ninth in the series and the characters have become more and more like real people. Betsy Devonshire really does own a needlework shop in Minnesota called Crewel World. Well, maybe not, but Ferris can make you believe it. I could walk in and find the cross stitch patterns with no trouble at all. I know where they keep the coffeepot. I would have a ball exchanging banter with flamboyant and funny Godwin DuLac her only fulltime employee and I would totally enjoy sitting and doing crochet while gossiping with the Monday Bunch. I would probably be one of the ones who slips treats to Sofie, Betsy's obese and lazy cat who couldn't be bothered to detect anything but dinner.

The story begins when Godwin's lover throws him out on his ear. He and John have been together for years and this is not exactly unusual. Godwin moves in to Betsy's spare bedroom until they can work things out.

But things don't get worked out. Betsy and Godwin discover John has been murdered. Before long the police suspect that it was Godwin who did the deed. Nonsense! Godwin is a lovely person who wouldn't hurt a fly! Betsy hires a lawyer for him and gets to sleuthing.

Monica Ferris isn't Agatha Christie. She has a charming and lucid writing style, but her novel construction tends to be ... a little loose, shall we say. Usually I have the puzzle solved before many chapters have gone by. This one kept me guessing almost to the end. I think that signals that Ferris is growing as a storyteller.

I'm attracted to these books because I'm a needle work nut. During the course of the story Betsy is worried about how Godwin is going to survive in prison. As it turns out he does well there except that they won't let him have his knitting needles. The idea of life without parole would be frightening enough, but the thought of life without my crochet hook freezes the blood. And there's a needlework pattern in the back of every book!

Come for the needlework, stay for the characters, the setting and even the story.

I'm a Semi-Finalist!!!!

Ok, I'm sort of stunned.

Amazon.com sent me the following notice:

Thank you for participating in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. . . . We are happy to inform you that you have been selected as a semi-finalist.

This is an unpublished novel that I submitted to Amazon.com's novel contest sometime last fall. I submitted it and then just forgot about it.

As it turns out, I now need the help of all my friends.

The name of the novel is The Man Who Needed Killing. Amazon has posted an excerpt here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001265902,

I need for you to go to that website, download the excerpt and then post a review. The grand prize is publication by Penguin books which is one of the big New York publishing houses.

This is what Amazon says about reviews:

What Makes A Good Review?

In the semifinalist round, we're breaking new ground in our customer reviewing community: this is the first opportunity for customers to play an active role in the publishing process. The criteria for judging an unpublished book are a little bit different from the norm. Keep these pointers in mind as you're reading and remember: your voice counts.

Be persuasive. Experts at Penguin will be relying on customer reviews as they prepare to select the finalists, so don't hesitate to tell us what you really think. The reviews that provide the most thorough, thoughtful feedback are the ones that will help Penguin choose the Top Ten.

Quantity and quality help. The more reviews you write, and the more helpful each review is, the more likely you are to win one of our three prize packages.

Discuss. As with customer reviews for all our products, you can comment on others' excerpt reviews and rate them. Any discussion and activity we see around specific titles will only keep us coming back for more, so feel free to speak up and banter with your peers.

One quick heads-up: Per the contest rules, every excerpt is a maximum of 5,000 words in length. As a result, you may find that excerpts vary in length or end unexpectedly. Consider yourself warned--and happy reading!

Thank you in advance for any help you can give me!

Hear that rattle at the door? Type a little faster.

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.--Isaac Asimov

Someone once said if there really was life after death, Isaac Asimov would have written a book about it by now.

One Last Salty Kiss

I finished my story for the Crimespace contest. The deadline is January 31 and there's no entry fee, so check it out!

Here's a little bit of my entry "One Last Salty Kiss":

I always think of this as the night my heart got ripped out. Not literally, of course, but sometimes I wish it were. My name is Martha Graham, no relation to the dancer. If you saw me you wouldn't even have to ask.


I fell in love with someone Jim called a Wrong Guy. You could hear the capital letters in the way he said it. Aussie Dog was tall and suntanned with lean ropy muscles and a delicious Australian accent you could just eat up for breakfast. He was brilliant, charismatic. So charming, so smoking hot. . .

Good Blog! Advanced Fiction Writing

I highly recommend a blog by Randy Ingermanson, a former physicist-turned-writer. Ingermanson is now a novelist who teaches writing.

I am learning quite a lot from this website. It has nice combination of time management, writing business management and inspiration. There's a free e-zine that's so far been worth signing up for.

http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/

REVIEW: Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Darkly Dreaming Dexter
Jeff Lindsay
Doubleday, 2004

Dexter is your friendly neighborhood serial killer. Oh, don't worry, he doesn't just snatch people at random off the streets. You won't ever find yourself strapped to Dexter's "operating" table looking up into the handsome eyes of a charming but cold blooded killer. Dexter only kills people who deserve it--other serial killers, other human monsters. Dexter only preys on his own kind.

You and I are not his kind because we are fully human and Dexter is not.

I was drawn to this book because I loved the Showtime series. Therefore it was a bracing surprise when the voice of Dexter in the book wasn't that of actor Michael C. Hall.

Author Jeff Lindsay is a master at the craft of constructing a believable character. The series Dexter is a monster but he's a complex monster, his normal human feelings puzzle him and surprise him and sometimes overwhelm him. Book Dexter is much simpler, more direct, and much, much colder. Yes, all the charming patter is there, but you aren't pulled in by it. You aren't tricked into believing this man is human. Instead he's like a robot or an android struggling mightily to pass for human. He's guessing at normal. What series and book Dexter have in common is something Dexter calls "The Dark Passenger"; the killer inside him.

You will fall in love with series Dexter and be shocked and horrified when the the Dark Passenger looks out of his eyes. You will not fall in love with book Dexter. There's nothing to love. He's a mechanical construct. Book Dexter is frightening because he so closely resembles a human--but isn't.

Year one of the series follows the book fairly closely. Dexter has found his niche in life as a blood splatter expert for the Miami Police department. Dexter has charmed everyone except Sergeant Doaks. Doaks can sense the hidden predator--Dexter gives him the creeps.

Then they start finding dead bodies--women who are artistically murdered, drained of blood and dismembered. Dexter is intrigued by this "new guy in town." As the story unfolds, you begin to find out these killings--hookers, mostly--are intended to attract Dexter's attention. They are for his benefit.

What follows is a complex and deadly game of hide and seek between Dexter, the monster inside him and the monster out there. In the course of it all we find out how Dexter came to lose his humanity, became fascinated with blood and gained the compulsion to kill.

The series deftly makes up for the few weaknesses of the book. We need a lot more information than the book offers about how Dexter became such a well-controlled killer. The climactic scene in the book is confusing and doesn't land with a satisfying thump. The final episode of Season One barrels toward the climax like a freight train and takes you where you need to go logically and emotionally.

Author Jeff Lindsay has skillfully constructed a fascinating character. I'm glad I read the book because it is a primer on how to build a chilling villain who is almost human. Dexter should terrify you--and he does. Dexter should be a villain, but he's not. You shouldn't love a monster like Dexter, but you will.

SFReader Contest Story

I sent off my contest story to SFReader this morning. The deadline was today. Hey, it wasn't EXACTLY at the last minute. There were several minutes to go!

The story is called "In the Hungry Night" and here is a little tidbit:

Once a man who asked me the wrong price for the food he gave me, insisting I pay horizontally. I refused. He insisted more forcefully. I’m strong for a woman and big and I nearly killed him. I deliberately left him alive so whispers about what I had done would spread across the city. A woman like me usually pays for protection on her back. I trade honest labor for food or money chips when I can and I don’t need a protector.

I knew the man I thrashed wouldn’t dare complain to the Morality Police because they would ask me why I beat him. He knew I would tell them and then we would go to the Pit together. The story did spread and I heard it was even told among the Atharians in the alien section. Because of my peculiar fastidiousness and my method of enforcement, I picked up the nickname Queen Jetti, which got shortened to Q-Jet almost immediately. That name has become a warning and a protection, so I have embraced it.

One night, in the hungry dark, I found a much more worthy opponent....

The Writing Life

I did a Google search on the phrase "the writing life" and found this wonderful blog by that name:

The Writing Life

The post on top as of today is "Book Reviews Count More Than You Know" and it has some excellent links and tips. I'm going to read this blog carefully and see what I can learn from it!

Damn!

Substitute "damn" every time you're inclined to write "very;" your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be. ~Mark Twain

Review: "In The Shadows of Wrigley Field"

"In The Shadows of Wrigley Field"
by John Weagly
Back Alley Webzine

This is a story about a story that was too short.

Here's the thing. "In The Shadows of Wrigley Field" was very well written. You are there in the moment with the viewpoint character. You can feel her sweat. She's hanging around outside the gate of Wrigley Field waiting for the game to let out on order to make a few bucks. She selects someone and cuts him out of the herd. He's wearing a Cubs t-shirt, she's wearing a Cubs t-shirt. His fits him, hers is several sizes too small and conceals nothing. You get the picture.

During their brief encounter you learn this is a very nice guy and that surprises her. He gives her his real name. She is shocked and gives him her real name. Something's happening here. Chemistry is developing. Volumes more is hinted at. The reader's appetite is whetted--and then? The story stops. The incident that was supposed to be the twist didn't stab you in the guts. It was a charming little bijou. Suddenly you want to track down John Weagly, the author, grab him by the shirt collar and yell: What happens next?!?!

I've always heard that you should always leave them wanting more, but this story takes that little bit of advice and flies right off the deep end with it.

I write both novels and short stories. A novel is like a well-planned caper. You take your time. You do your research. You do everything slow and easy, climaxing in the heist before you fade quietly into the dark.

A short story is more like a home invasion. You kick in the door, grab the goods and get the hell out. Short and sweet.

You can't mix the two. "In The Shadows of Wrigley Field" is like the first chapter of a novel. The caper is being set up, the idea is conceived, the groundwork is laid. You get to the end with your mouth watering for chapter two, but chapter two isn't there.

Weagly is going to have to turn this story into the novel or we are going to have to send the boys around for a little visit.

Sometimes You Just Wanna be Bad: Part 3

The Human Villain

The fantasy villain is easy, in a way. Easy to hate, easy to fight against. They tend to be symbols of very great, very real evils that ordinary humans cannot easily overcome--war, poverty, terrorism, plague, famine, you name it. There's a lot of overwhelming evil out there. Sauron and Voldemort, as horrifying as they are, can and are defeated.

A human villain is not as easy--not as easy to write and not as easy to read.

Sometimes a villain can be a perfectly lovely person who simply wants something or does something that opposes our hero and causes him (or her) problems. These are the villains that are most interesting to me.

The human villain is someone who believes they are the hero. They believe it is *they* who are struggling against the odds to accomplish an admirable goal. The hero, and therefore the audience, can see that this villain is in denial, not paying attention to all the evidence or has just misjudged the situation. But the villain can't see that and barrels ahead. We have all known very mild versions of that. We've all had relatives or co-workers who just couldn't see the harm they were doing to themselves or others and the problems they are making for we, the heros. We, of course, aren't like that. We really are the heros!

We have also seen the most serious version of this kind of villain in real life. The Unibomber, Timothy McVeigh, and the 9/11 hijackers. All were fighting vast evil--so they thought. The hijackers were even willing to sacrifice their lives to the cause they thought glorious and noble. What makes them villains is their lack of perspective on the suffering they caused. The lack of compassion for the victims.

One last complex villain is Moby Dick. The White Whale is not just a force of nature, a nineteenth-century creature feature. He is Ahab's obsession and his nemesis. The White Whale symbolizes any kind of obsession and also death itself. However, usually it is the villain who is obsessed with the destruction of the hero, not the other way around. Harry Potter would get along fine if Voldemort wasn't constantly after him. With Moby Dick, we have most complex kind of villainy. It is difficult to judge who is the hero and who is the villain. They struggle against each other and eventually one wins. With the death of Ahab, do we have a great tragedy? Or has justice been served?

There is one last way in which the villain bedevils the hero. The villain is more interesting. Actors love to play them, writers love to write them. The Joker is funny, bizarre and interesting, Batman is as dull as ditchwater. The writer must contend with the villain and not let this most interesting creature take over the story. The stronger the villain, the more interesting the story, simply because the hero must bring all intelligence and strength to bear to overcome him, her or it. And so must the writer, because sometimes you just wanna be bad.

Review: Murder in the Pleasure Gardens

Murder in the Pleasure Gardens
A Beau Brummel Mystery
by Rosemary Stevens
Berkeley Prime Crime (2004)

This is a straight up traditional mystery. When someone talks about curling up before a crackling fire with a cup of hot chocolate to while away the long winter evening reading a murder mystery, this is the type of book they have in mind.

The main character here is Beau Brummel, a real person who lived at the top of British society in the early 1800s. This is the regency period in England that is popular among romance writers. It is all about manners, conventions, proper behavior. A lady never goes out unescorted. A gentleman must always wear a snowy linen cravat tied just so. There's a lot of bowing and knuckle kissing. There's a lot of "You have besmirched my honor, Sir!" and "Maria, perhaps the gentleman would care for a glass of wine?' Heydn was still alive, Beethoven was only 35 years old.

One evening Beau Brummel is relaxing at his gentleman's club when an argument breaks out over a hand of cards. A rash young Lieutenant Nevill accuses Mr. Theobald Jacombe, a high government official (correctly) of cheating. Honor having been besmirched, there will be a duel. Beau Brummel gallantly volunteers to be the young Lieutenant's second.

You guessed it. You can hear this coming. Mr. Jacombe is murdered in a colorful way and Lieutenant Nevill is witnessed with the gun in his hand. The idiotic fall guy always picks up the murder weapon and the innocent sap is carted of to geol in King's Gate Prison.

Jessica Fletcher, call your office.

Brummel feels honor bound to step in and solve the murder, thereby preventing the poor fool from being hanged.

The plot is a cliché, but the characters are not. They are nicely done. The author manages to convey the flavor and sense of an interesting time in British history. There was a slip or two--a modernism creeping in here and there--but it was not enough to spoil the enjoyment of the story, the characters or the mystery itself.

By about two-thirds of the way through the book, it was pretty obvious who had to have done it--not the foolish Lieutenant Nevill, of course. But that's not why you read a book like this. You know all the bon-bons in the box taste exactly the same, but you are going to eat four of them anyway.

So the next time you are ready for a guilty pleasure, throw a log on the fire and enjoy a fun read from first page to last.

Review: The Bright Silver Star

The Bright Silver Star: A Berger and Mitry Mystery
by David Handler
St. Martin's Minotaur, 2003


The small New England town of Dorset is a lot like Peyton Place but without all that annoying prudery. Everybody is sleeping with everybody with such abandon that collectively the CDC probably has trouble sleeping at night.

Into this mix the famous movie star Tito Molina and his famous movie star wife Esme Crockett, the daughter of one of the town's most prominent citizens, blow into town for the summer. The small town is just learning to deal with the paparazzi and the press when Tito is found dead at the bottom of a cliff and the real feeding frenzy begins. At first it looks like he jumped, but let's get serious. This is a murder mystery. Of course he was pushed.

Desiree Mitry is the town sheriff, tall, athletic, black, ex-military and her main squeeze is Mitch Berger, a not so tall, chubby, Jewish New Yorker who intended to spend a summer in Dorset after his wife died, got hooked on the quiet beauty of the New England coast and stayed. Over the course of the last two books in this series this unlikely pair have fallen in love. As a team, they solve the mystery.

What I didn't like about the book: The bad stuff first. Des is tall, athletic and black but she has green eyes. Puleeze. It's tacky and just barely possible genetically. She has so much going for her as a character why does she have to have the eyes of a bodice-ripper romance heroine? Also she wears horn-rimmed glasses. Why? It doesn't enhance her character and like the eye color it's jarring.

Mitch is a more believable character, but I never could really buy the romance between him and Des. Like her unrealistic eye color it seems forced. The "ghetto speak" of the black characters also seems a little forced.

What I liked about the book: Now the good stuff. My "bad stuff" is a quibble. The opening scenes of the book are outstanding. They are frightening and sad. As Tito drives to his doom at the waterfall, you buy the monsters he sees so thoroughly it takes a while to figure out he's schizophrenic and you are sharing his delusions.

The story of the town is revealed slowly as if peeling back layers of an onion. The secondary characters are vividly drawn, some are funny, some irritating, some scary. None are boring or wooden. Mitch doesn't go from witness to suspect investigating like a PI and neither does Des, but the characters are revealed one by one and eventually Mitch and Des put all the swirl of confusing details together to solve the crime.

My favorite thing about this book is I couldn't figure out who did it. I've been reading and writing mysteries for quite a while now and I'm pretty tough to fool. I consider a mystery good if I can't figure out the killer until halfway through the book. This book did not give anything away in advance and I found out the identity of the killer when the author decided to reveal it. I suspected the motive for the killing, but it was just a vague suspicion and I was actually surprised that I was right.

All in all this book was delightful! I love a clever puzzle and I love being fooled by artifice and misdirection. The Bright Silver Star has plenty of both. In spite of its flaws, I highly recommend it.

Sometimes You Just Wanna be Bad: Part 2

Pure Evil
The purest evil villain in literature in the humble opinion of this author is Sauron in Lord of the Rings. He never appears on stage but he is always out there on the horizon, menacing and mysterious. He is all evil concentrated into an essence. Everything he touches is evil including, of course, the Ring. In Tolkein's trilogy the Ring itself is a central villain. It has a beautiful appearance. It seems to be very helpful and confer magical powers, but all it does is draw Frodo & Co. into danger and toward the great evil of Sauron.

Voldemort is a bit more subtle and more complex. He is evil and Harry is good but there is a little bit of each in the other. It makes the battle between them interesting. Harry must overcome his own bad impulses. You wonder to the end of Voldemort's "taint" of goodness will be his downfall.

The Force of Nature
The opposition that makes the protagonist miserable and drives a story need not be a person--like Voldemort--or a personality--like Sauron. It can have no human face at all. Life is full of bad things that happen to good people and those things can be the villain of the piece as surely as if Voldemort has cursed you. In the movies Twister and The Perfect Storm the villain is the weather. In Jaws and in creature features too numerous to name, the villain has no human intelligence but seems to have an implacable need to do harm. Stephen King has created non-human villains to great effect, using machines, a house, a car and a dog as villains in his stories. It can scare the pants off you when ordinary things go bad.

Next time: The Human Villain

Sometimes You Just Wanna be Bad: Part 1

Before you write any kind of fiction, long or short, literary or genre, you get in touch with your dark side first.

When I was a young girl I wanted to be a pirate or a ballerina. Neither were very likely occupations for me. They are like the good angel and the bad angel that sit on ones shoulders whispering in your ears. Good is interesting, but bad . . . bad is so much more fun.

For years I had heard about two famous women pirates. Having become a writer rather than a pirate or a ballerina I realized that I could *write* about piracy without actually doing any harm. So I started researching those two lady pirates. Anne Bonny and Mary Read. I thought they might make wonderful heroines and I might live out my old fantasy through them. The more I read about them the less delightful they became. Heroines they were not, but they would be excellent villains.

A good villain gives energy to a story in a way that a good hero can't. I am also a graphic designer in my day job and I know that you can have a lot of light, bright colors on a page but they will not pop out until you add some black somewhere--a black outline around the letters or some text reversed out of a black box. Black not only gives the piece visual balance, but also strength and authority. Villainy does the same thing for a story. The essence of a good story is the conflict between the hero and the villain. Without Voldemort Harry Potter would be a sweet kid with a lousy family.

Review: Attorney-Client Privilege by Suzanne Lilly

The hook on this story isn't strong but I kept reading and I'm glad I did. A flurry of extraneous distracting detail persuaded me to buy the premise hook, line and sinker without a second thought. Mystery stories are supposed to do that. About six times during the story I though "Oh-ho, this is it" and about six times it wasn't it. We weren't there yet. I was still being strung along. Maybe I wasn't paying attention. Maybe I was just wasn't suspicious enough, but when the ending came barreling out of left field I was blindsided and that's the job of a good crime fiction piece.

Ms. Lilly's writings skills are still developing. This story lumbers along in places where it could roll like a Cadillac. In the end it doesn't matter. If she keeps writing, her skills will develop and we're going to enjoy the ride.

This little gem is over at Mysterical-e.

Review: "Flash Mob" by Kaye George

This well-told tale has such a clever device I'm envious that I didn't think of it. The intercuts of people answering their cell phones and checking their palm pilots is so intriguing that you keep reading just to find out what that's all about, to heck with the crime. The characters are beautifully drawn, especially the viewpoint character. You feel sorry for her without having your tears jerked. Keep your hands off my tears, thanks anyway. That George doesn't dissolve into maudlin sentimentalism in order to suck you in makes this a vastly better story than it would have been otherwise. The story is taut and believable. Check it out over at Mouth Full of Bullets.

The Black Orchid Contest

A few days ago I sent off my submission to the Black Orchid Novella Contest. I don't really expect to win, but you can't win if you don't enter.

This entry is a Lady Margaret story. She witnesses a murder late one night at Curley's Cafe, a hangout for sailors and ruffians of all kinds. The next morning Inspector Monahan finds the body of a beautiful girl dead on the beach. Are they connected? You bet!

So everyone should keep your fingers crossed. This was fun to write and will probably end up as a novel eventually.

Lady Chesterleigh and the Night Visitor

Here is a small taste of Lady Margaret, Countess of Chesterleigh in action.

-----------

San Francisco , 1935

I received an unexpected visitor late one night in my studio. This visitor did not come bearing a printed calling card, but rather a Colt snub nosed .38.

My darling Henry, who been sitting with me for a while had gone off to bed. I had kissed him warmly good night and vowed I would join him shortly.

He smiled at me and cupped my face in his hands. “Take as long as you need, my love,” he said.

So I kissed him again and sent him off. It was a mistake. I had been telling the truth about coming to bed right away but when I heard the noise above me in the night-darkened skylight, a glance at the clock told me that midnight had long since gone.

I also made a mistake in ignoring the noise. The latch on the skylight is slightly loose and wind off the Pacific would sometimes cause the window panes to rattle. I should not have ignored it, but I was deeply absorbed in mixing the correct shade of gray-green-blue for an important shadow when a man, whose head was drenched in drying blood, dropped to the floor only a few steps away.

I am not much given to shrieks or vapors of any kind, but I could not help but gasp.

When I saw him draw the gun out of his pocket I called for Henry at the top of my voice. I threw my brush and palette at him and turned to run for the door.

“Stop,” he growled, “or I'll blow your legs off ya.” I stopped in mid-step, trembling, pleased that he had uttered a warning rather than simply pulling the trigger.

“You better hope that boyfriend of yours didn't hear anything. If he did, he's a dead man.”

“It's unlikely he heard me,” I said breathlessly, turning to face him. “The bedroom is downstairs.”

“I know,” said the man. “I cased ya a couple a months ago. I know yer whole layout.”

I thought briefly of my Beretta down stairs in my handbag. I longed for the feel of it in my hand. Instead I concealed my hands in the sleeves of my kimono.

“Are you here to rob me?” I have many valuable objects in my house, a few of them in my studio.

“Tempting, but I got bigger fish to fry.”

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The Worst Dragon Hunter

This was also an Anotherealm flash fiction contest entry. I didn't win but it was great fun to write!

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Jewel Turner's husband was the most incompetent dragon hunter that ever lived.

When Gerald went after Dragon Falco she knew he would screw it up somehow. Falco was famous in dragon-hunting circles. A half dozen hunters had gone after him and none had come back. Gerald had not come back. Jewel knew Gerry was still alive. If he were dead, the world would have become a dark empty cavern of loneliness and pain. Sunlight still fell warm on her face and stars still brilliantly adorned the night sky. Therefore Gerald Turner was still breathing somewhere and it was her job to get him back.

It wasn't easy to get a message to Dragon Falco, but she managed it. She asked him to meet her at the Ambassador Hotel at 2 o'clock on Saturday. She picked out her largest and most tasteless cocktail ring and dropped it into the envelope. Alone, it wouldn't buy Gerry's freedom, but it would get Falco's attention.

She arrived a few minutes early with a shopping bag over her arm about half full of her best necklaces, bracelets and earrings--not the emerald earrings, Gerry had given her those, but the diamond and ruby ones she'd had for years. A cheap price to pay to get the center of her life back.

Falco was already waiting for her. He didn't look like a dragon, of course. It would be tough to get leather pinions through the front door even if the attendant opened it all the way. Falco had obviously thrown together his human seeming without much thought. He had chosen black skin, Chinese eyes, Native American hair, Hispanic lips and a Norwegian nose. Fortunately in New York that's hardly unusual.

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The King's Best Soldier

Two days after midwinter, Beric saw Danzia, the most famous of all the Dakhanni, standing in the snow, thin as a blade. Hard as steel. He saw her because she allowed him a glimpse of her. Fear seized him when he saw her standing there, merely looking at him. If she was close enough to see, she could have executed him any time for the deed he had done. The deed that now haunted him like the demon woman herself.

Beric's village lay only a little further. He had been pushing himself through the bitter cold, under the heavy sky, for two days. He longed to see his home one more time. Each beat of his heart yearned for that safety and warmth. In the few snatches of sleep he had managed, he dreamed of those he loved--his wife, his mother, his children. But the village might as well be in a valley on the moon. Death now stalked him in the snow and he felt he would never know warmth of any kind, ever again.

Beric hid himself from the cold gaze of the Dakhanni. He quickly unloaded his pack of everything but a few bits of food. The heaviest thing was the gold cup that had belonged to King Godfrey. Seven days ago the king had called to him in the midst of holiday revelry. "You are my best soldier," the king had said in front of the assembled court. The king had drained the deep red wine from the bejeweled cup and, in front of all the nobles, had given the cup to him. It was the proudest moment of Beric's life. Now the bejeweled thing glittered at him mockingly.

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No Good Deed

This story won 1st Place in Anotherealm's Flash Fiction Contest
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"Do you believe in aliens?"

The O'Brien and Bengal Circus caravan had just barreled through Roswell, New Mexico on its way to the next show in Lubbock.

Fred, one of the candy and peanut butchers, the youngest guy in the group, had asked the question of the general crowd but only a few of the roustabouts and riggers seemed interested in the question which was met with "sure" or "nah" and not much else.

Fred was playing cards with Melissande. She studied her hand and ignored him. She usually went stone deaf when she was asked a question she didn't want to answer--which was most of them. Fred had made himself her best buddy and never gave up trying to pry personal information out of her.

Melissande was one of the midway acts. She just showed up one day last spring and O'Brien had hired her on the spot. Exhibiting freaks of nature was illegal most places now. No more Jojo the Dog-Faced Boy, no more bearded lady, no more Elephant Man, but Melissande, hideously deformed as she was, had a legit shtick -- she could read your future. Madame Melissande knows all sees all. Her eyes were different sizes and different colors and her hands were twisted bird claws. Her hair looked like it hadn't been combed in ten years. It was full of twigs and leaves like she slept in the woods. But the best part, the part that packed in the rubes, was her hunch back--big, twisted and loathsome--perfect for gawking.

If you'd like to read the rest, subscribe to my mailing list and get the FREE e-book "Mystery, Magic and The Macabre." For more details go to CoganBooks.net