Conventions - Are They Worth Attending?

I’m back from Malice Domestic, my last convention of the year. While I’ve enjoyed the conventions I’ve attended, I’m glad to be home with no plans to travel in the near future. The last couple years I’ve done a painting convention in Las Vegas end of February/early March, Left Coast Crime in Hawaii/Reno a couple weeks later, and Malice Domestic end of April. I’m now reassessing my attendance at mystery conventions. Are they worth the expense and time away from home and writing?

Up until last year when LCC was in Hawaii, I only attended once before when it was in Downtown Los Angeles, a 45-minute drive. LCC often coincided with my painting convention, which won out because, well, I have my priorities. But the lure of Hawaii and the timing around my birthday made this a must attend event. I signed up for LCC in Reno for two reasons: we could drive there and one of the guests of honor was a friend. I had some great conversations with fellow authors at both events, but I’m not sure I picked up any new readers.

This was my fifth Malice and my favorite so far. Even though it was held at a different hotel this time around, I still felt like I was coming home, so to speak. I know a lot of people who attend and I feel like I belong there more than at other conventions. Cozy/traditional mystery are the books I enjoy reading most and the kind of stories I enjoy writing. Sometimes, at LCC and Bouchercon (I’ve attended that one once when it was in Long Beach), I almost feel like I have to apologize for writing the lighter side of mystery. Not so at Malice.

I think I also enjoyed it more because I filled my time with a lot of different things. I did the Malice Go Round (aka speed dating with authors), attended the Sisters in Crime breakfast for the first time, was on a panel, did a Facebook Live interview and co-hosted a table at the Agatha Awards banquet.

The banquet is my favorite part of the event. I never thought I would say that. I’m not good at small talk, but I always seem to have a good time there. This time around, I teamed up with Agatha award nominee Kathleen Valenti and co-hosted a table. Turns out I’m much better at small talk when I’m a host. I feel like it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone has a good time so that seems to get me out of my shell.

Giveaways for our table. Missing is a pill bottle filled with M&Ms from Kathleen. Give me M&Ms and I eat them!

Another reason I enjoy Malice is I get to see my Henery Press peeps. While we stay in touch online, it’s nice to see them in person. How many HP authors attend depends on the year. This time around it was 14 or so. We attend each others panels, get together for drinks and compare notes on writing and the publishing world.

Henery Press at Malice. Photo taken by Eleanor Cawood Jones

I also enjoy going to Washington, D.C., and taking some time before the convention starts to go to a museum or two and just walk around. We often visit the pandas at the National Zoo.

But, it’s a long flight across the country and not exactly cheap. Still, if I were to attend only one convention a year, it would be Malice. I feel like I’ve picked up some readers there and I enjoy talking to readers as well as authors. I know many authors who don’t attend any conventions, saying it’s not worth it. They don’t sell enough extra books to warrant the time and money spent. I certainly don’t get my “money back” in sales. For me, right now, it’s more about exposure and about feeling like I’m part of a community.

Still, I’ve pretty much decided I’m cutting down on mystery conventions next year. I won’t be attending LCC, but I’ll most likely do Bouchercon since it’s in Dallas where my publisher is. While I enjoy Malice, I’m still on the fence about attending next year. I have plenty of time to decide.

What about you writers out there? Do you think conventions are worth attending?

More on Novel Length

by Rick Blechta

Following on from our weekend guest blogger Christine Poulson’s excellent piece, I’m going to keep this week’s post from moi short and sweet.

As for book length, my feeling is that it’s up to the writer (and editor) to make the length work. I generally put down novels that feel as if they’re padded, either because the writer did a lot of research and obviously feels it must all be thrown in or because the writer has fallen in love with their deathless prose.

You see this quite often in the later novels of successful writers. Almost invariably the page count goes up and up. The poster child for this is J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter Series. In her case I found the length was due to plot complications and multiple threads, and for the most part, it didn’t bother me. With other writers, longer length often feels like padding. Sometimes I suspect that the poor editors feel they can’t trim out excess if a very successful author’s novels — we’re talking top of the bestseller lists here — are obviously increasing in length without good reason. What do you think would happen if the million-selling author complained to the publisher when the editor wanted to trim huge swathes of prose? The editor at best would be told to back off.

For newbie authors, editors can — and often for good reason — prune brutally.

In the best of all possible worlds, it would all work out for the best. As a reader, though, I will either skip over parts of novels that feel self-indulgent in the prose, or I’ll just give up and toss them across the room.

On the other hand, we’ve all no doubt read novels that feel as if something important has been left on the cutting room floor.

It’s a fine line to walk.

Guest Blogger Christine Poulson

Aline here. Today I'm happy to introduce you to Chrissie Poulson, whose new book, Cold, Cold Heart, has the intriguing setting of a remote Antarctic plateau during the long Antarctic winter from the time the last plane leaves at the end of February to the time the next plane arrives in late October. Sends the shivers down my spine even thinking of it!

The Long and the Short of It

'For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never worn.' This is supposedly what Hemingway came up with when he was challenged to write a six word story. I thought of that recently when I downloaded the audiobook of War and Peace, all sixty hours of it. According to the Guinness Book of Records that is not even the longest novel ever written: the prize goes to A la Recherche du Temps Perdu by Marcel Proust, which contains an estimated 9,609,000 characters.

Hemingway tended to be terse, Proust just the opposite. Do writers have a default length, I wonder? And if so, how does this apply to crime writers? To an extent, book lengths are determined by publishers and perhaps that is particularly the case with genre fiction.

Even so, I feel confident in saying that Simenon wrote short. The Maigret novels are scarcely more than novellas. Agatha Christie didn't waste her words either. You can comfortably read one of her novels in an evening. Dorothy L. Sayers on the other hand tended to write long, especially in her later books. But the Golden Age writers were not usually verbose and there is a good reason for that. If you are writing a traditional fair play detective novel, you don't want your readers to have forgotten the clues at the beginning before they get to the end. The short novel can work well with noir too in sustaining atmosphere and narrative drive: think James Cain's Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

There have of course been long crime novels that have been bestsellers. Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose springs to mind and so does Ian Pears' An Instance of the Finger Post. Both of these are historical novels and perhaps length is more acceptable there. More recently CJ Sansom's Matthew Shardlake novels, set in Tudor England, are also fairly hefty and the accumulation of details certainly adds to one's sense of being immersed in a period.

Does this tendency to write long or short translate into the actual process of writing a novel? Jane Harper had a well-deserved success last year with her debut novel, The Dry, which at 90,000 words is by no means short. But I was interested to read in an interview with her that she writes a much shorter first draft, preferring to get the plot in place before she fleshes it out in later drafts. There are other writer – Stephen King is one of them – who write long first drafts and then cut back in later drafts, though in King's case he is still one of the longest writers around!

As a reader I do like short, especially with crime fiction. I love to be able to settle down and read a novel in an evening. I feel with long books, as with long films, that the writer has to work a lot harder to justify taking up so much of my time and I am more likely to set the book aside and not get round to picking it up again. On the other hand, if a novel is really good...

As a writer, too, I am definitely on the short side. I usually worry that I am going to be too short, yet strangely, almost magically it seems, my novels invariably come out at almost exactly 75,000 words. True, that is the length required by my publishers, but it is also the perfect length for me.

So, readers – and writers – what do you think? Long or short? Do good things come in little parcels? Or do you prefer more bang for your buck?

Bad Girls, Bad Boys

It's happened again. I've been seduced by my villain. The first time it happened, I was writing Old Murders, the third book in my Lizzie Stuart series. Being a plotter (or, at least a hybrid), I started writing feeling sure I knew whodunit. But during the last fourth of the book, I realized I couldn't do it. My killer had convinced me that someone else should take the fall.

It happened again, that time much earlier, when Lizzie went in search of her mother, Becca. She had never seen her mother, who was 17 when Lizzie was born and got on a bus and left Drucilla, Kentucky five days later. Lizzie was raised by her grandparents, and she wanted to find her mother before accepting her lover's proposal. I knew from the beginning that Becca was not going to be a cookie-baker. As Lizzie followed her mother's trail, Becca took shape. When Lizzie finally came face-to-face with her mother, Becca was smart, beautiful, and cold-blooded. I loved Becca -- and she threatened to walk away with the book.

Now, I'm writing my 1939 historical thriller. I like my characters. But my protagonist -- decent, intelligent, a believer in justice and doing the right thing -- was boring me. When his antagonist was on-stage and I was in my villain's post of view, I was intrigued, not sure what he would do, waiting to see. In desperation, I switched my protagonist's point of view to first person. That helped. He turned out not to be as squeaky-clean as he at first seemed. In fact, he has a secret that is going to walk up and bite him in the middle of the book. He is in turmoil, and that's makes him more interesting to write.

But I will need to dig deeper to make him the equal of my villain. Not that I am dealing with a comic book super-villain. But he is complex, and his downfall will come about because my hero discovers his vulnerabilities.

The thing about villains is that they have few compulsions. They don't feel the need to be good. And, for writers, who spend our real lives trying to be as decent as our heroes, villains are freeing. My closest analogy is that villains are like avatars. To do a villain well, one has to step into his body and walk and talk and think as he would. To play an unfamiliar role.

The good news is that most of us are only temporarily seduced. Being in the head of someone who rejoices in villainy is disturbing. Unsettling. Being in the head of the killer in my last Lizzie Stuart book convinced me that I would never be able to go too far to "the dark side". The villain in my 1939 book may "smile and smile," but he is up to things that I find despicable. He is someone who may carry me along with him -- good for the plot and pace of the novel -- but in the end, he must be stopped.

Beginning a New Series

Tempe Public Library

I, Donis, started my Writer in Residence program on May 1 at the Public Library here in my hometown of Tempe, Arizona. Tempe is a town of about 140,000 people, not counting the students at Arizona State University (another 60,000). And yet Tempe only has one public library. No branches. Still, the one library is quite the establishment. It is incredibly busy and the number of events it sponsors is mind-boggling. The librarian in charge of events, Jill Brenner, is particularly interested in offering writing programs for the city, and judging by participation, these programs have been wildly successful.

I am Writer in Residence for this summer, May through July, when any locals who haven't left town to escape the heat are looking for some kind of indoor activity, because hiking or picnicking when it's 115º is not fun. So I'll be available to consult one-on-one with aspiring writers for a couple of hours on the days I am in house, and I'm contracted to present six classes throughout the summer on some aspect of writing. All very lovely and well and good and charming, and I'm going to enjoy that.

I'm also supposed to write on my own book, and that is a lot more work. Especially considering that I'm working on the first novel in a new series. I've written ten Alafair Tucker novels over the past thirteen years. I know those characters like I know my own family. And now I've set myself the task of getting to know a whole new bunch of folks who are living their lives in a place and time that I have never written about before. I have crossed over a couple of characters from the first series, which is comforting. At least there's one person I know well in this new world! But it's exciting, as well, to move to a new state and start living among a new crowd.

But I'm a little anxious. How successfully am I going to be able to pull you into this new world, Dear Reader, and how willing are you to go along with me. In his book on writing, This Year You Write Your Novel, Walter Mosely said, “a novel is a collusion between the author and the reader.” The reader wants to walk in your character’s shoes, to believe in the world you’ve created, and you don’t want to let him down.

I’m often anxious and unhappy for much of a first draft. Why, I ask myself, isn’t this better? It seemed like such a good idea when it was still in my head.

Why do I put myself through it? I’m never sure I can pull it off, no matter how many times I’ve pulled it off before. But then there are those days, even while you’re struggling with the first draft, when you do hit the perfect note, or compose a passage so beautiful and true that it brings tears to your eyes. Ray Bradbury spoke truth when he said that real success comes when you begin to write from the inside, and not from the outside.

Besides, once the first draft is finished and you’re on to the second and third and however many more, world without end, it all starts to come together and you realize with a start that you’ve got something. Maybe that old mojo is working after all!

By the way, if you'd like to fly over to Tempe on your day off and sign up for a writer consultation with me or attend a class, you can find all the requisite information about the Writer in Residence program here.

The magic of small town literary festivals

Barbara here. This past weekend I was a guest author at the 1000 Islands Writers Festival, set in the picturesque town on Gananoque on the St. Lawrence River, in the heart of the 1000 islands. There are actually more than 1000, but it's too hard to count!

This was a special treat because there were nine invited authors from a range of genres, in addition to the Festival patron author Terry Fallis, who was charming, relaxed, and funny as the MC. There were YA authors, crime authors, non-fiction, and literary. At many literary festivals, crime writers and authors of fantasy, science fiction, etc, are regarded as merely "commercial" as opposed to "real" writers and we are sidelined or left out entirely. But it's always very enriching to meet authors who write different material. We are all writers; we all work hard at our craft and strive to tell the best stories we can, and when we get together, we discover we have a lot to learn from each other. We share, we laugh, we drink...

Terry Fallis MC'ing the opening evening

The 1000 Islands Writers Festival is like the town itself - warm, welcoming, informal, and intimate. The whole town participated, and although most of the events were at the stunning Thousand Island Playhouse overlooking the river, there were also events at the public library, the Heather Haynes Art Gallery, the Boat Museum, and the charming Victorian B&Bs scattered throughout the town. The author dinner was at the Stonewater Pub and final breakfast at Ye Olde English Pub. The wonderful independent bookstore Beggars Banquet Books supplied all the books for sale. All the venues were an easy, energizing stroll away from each other through the downtown or over the Gananoque River (where Maureen Jennings and I both pictured drowning our victim; such is the mind of a crime writer).

Besides offering variety in genres, the festival also offered different types of events, some of them unique. In addition to readings and writing workshops, there were "living room" sessions which were held in the living rooms of the B&Bs and offered a chance to talk with and listen to authors in the intimacy of a small group. My two sessions were at the beautiful Sleepy Hollow B&B where I was staying.



There was also a lunch session where Maureen Jennings and I were given free rein to chat about all things mysterious. And one great bonus, musical interludes which illustrated the connection between art forms.

There is an intimacy to small town festivals that sets them apart from big city ones. In addition to the whole town participating, the audience comes from all over and stays in town for the weekend so that they can attend numerous sessions. There were also a number of gatherings like the opening reception, the readings and music at the boat museum, and the Sunday author breakfast, all of which gave both readers and writers a chance to chat, share a drink, and become friends. I am notoriously bad at estimating numbers but I think there were at least 200 attendees.

I am reading at the opening evening

Anyone who's every been involved in running a festival knows how much hard work goes into it, and when things run as smoothly as they did, it is because every detail has been planned. But there is no replacing the enthusiasm and warmth of the festival organizers in creating the atmosphere that makes the festival a success. A huge congratulations to Alison Dunn, Liz Austin, Pam Hudson, Deidre, and all those involved, and heartfelt thank you for all that you do for book lovers!

Shakespeare still fascinates

by Rick Blechta

I ran across an interesting article several weeks ago and found it absolutely fascinating. You should read it before we continue our discussion. Take your time. I’ll go get a coffee while I’m waiting.

So the Bard, like any other writer, seems to have always had his eye out for good material from which to work. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he kept a notebook of source ideas. Unfortunately something like this — if it did exist — has been lost in the mists of time. It would certainly be a most interesting read.

Enter the computer tech guys. Software has existed for a number of years now that is used mostly by college professors and teaching assistants to find out whether assignments are being plagiarized or sources not acknowledged properly. This especially became an issue when various online sites began offering services to provide compositions and even theses for a fee.

Using this software, it’s easy to plug in a few key phrases and find out if they were used previously on things that are now posted on the internet and elsewhere. It doesn’t take long to wheedle out the source if a student has “cut a few corners” in completing assignments. The penalties can be severe.

However, “An yll wynde, that blowth no man to good, men sae.” (A dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the prouerbes in the Englishe tongue; John Heywood, 1546*) So a couple canny literary sleuths plugged in several phrases and connected Shakespeare with a source from which he seems to have “consulted” quite freely in writing his plays.

I’m certain this success is going to inspire more research into how these great plays came into being and who knows, we might find out once and for all if William Shakespeare had help —

No ill wind indeed!
or if he helped others.

___________________
*I always acknowledge sources…

Conference Time

I'm just back from the Crime Writers Association annual conference, when we get together purely as a group of writers with no readers around. We relax and socialise, but we also have speakers who give us insights into the workings of the world of crime that would be hard, or even impossible, to access on our own.

As usual, they were varied, informative and even entertaining. DCI Paul Burrows, a Scene of Crime Officer, took us through his investigation into The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, bringing it of course to a triumphant conclusion.

We were also fascinated by retired DCI Jackie Bailey who was Linda la Plante's inspiration for the character of Jane Tennison in the hugely successful Prime Suspect series. She acted as consultant to that and talked as well about the brutal misogyny she'd encountered as the first woman to join the London Met's Flying Squad. It was hard to believe that it all happened comparatively recently, when you think that the head of the Met is now a woman.

I was interested, too, when she was talking about the relationship between the police and the legal profession, since my son is a criminal defence lawyer. There was a case where the defendant had been accused of carrying a weapon, but the jury found him not guilty, after being convinced that the police had planted it on him.

After the verdict, Jackie saw the top QC who had been running the defence and told him she wanted him to know that the weapon genuinely hadn't been planted. He only smiled gently and said, 'My dear, I don't defend innocent men.' When I told my son he looked a bit sheepish then said, 'Yup, that's the job.' How the law operates in a free society!

The lecture I found most revealing was the one delivered by a psychiatrist. When she was talking about schizophrenia, she got us all to form groups of three, one to be the interviewer, one to be the interviewee and the other to be the demoralizing voice in the interviewee's ear.

The woman who played the demon voice was brilliant, starting with comments like, 'Why did you apply for this job? You know you won't be able to do it,' then moving on to, 'What made you wear those shoes? Did you even brush your hair before you came?' When she said, 'You're looking at her squinty-eyed now,' we all burst out laughing and the interview collapsed in disorder.

But it had become evident already that the interviewee was quite unable to answer the questions properly, having to ask for them to be repeated, starting an answer then losing the thread, just blanking out completely. It was a startling demonstration of what it feels like to suffer from alien voices speaking inside your brain.

As usual we all went away with ideas churning in our heads for the next book. And a few new friends as well.

Till Death Do Us Part

Like many of you, I have my favorite programs to binge-watch. At the top of my list are true-crime shows. I once spent a week dog sitting at my sister's house and when done working on the keyboard for the day, I'd mix up a batch of martini's and kick back to episodes of Inside the American Mob. Besides writing, I also paint, and when busy in my studio I key up Netflix in the background. During an extended flurry to complete a series of new works I cycled through all the seasons of Forensic Files. One consequence is that when I look now at any one painting I'm reminded of whatever homicides were investigated during its creation.

Years ago, the top crime show was COPS, which I didn't like. Police raids through trailer parks and Section 8 housing seemed more exercises in class warfare than searching for the bad guys. Not that the low-life offenders didn't deserve what they got, it's just that the crimes committed by the wealthy and middle-class went unnoticed.

Until Forensic Files. The big draw of the show is of course how advances in forensics allow investigators to solve crimes and bring justice and closure to victims and their survivors. While I appreciate the forensic science, the attraction for me is the human drama, usually someone deciding that the solution to their present dilemma is to murder the spouse/significant other/immediate family member/business partner. Sometimes the show deals with serial killers hunting targets of opportunity but mostly investigators don't stray far beyond an immediate circle of the dead guy's acquaintances. Unlike the trailer-trash perps of COPS, on Forensic Files we witness the well-to-do and privileged committing homicide: bankers, lawyers, doctors, real estate agents, police detectives, and even a bestselling novelist (Michael Peterson). Though these people were uniformly educated, they made a lot of stupid mistakes, for instance stashing the murder weapon and bloody clothes in the basement washing machine. Incriminating evidence left on computers has likewise undone many a "fool-proof" plan. I also notice that in Forensic Files, on occasion the police get timely leads via a "mysterious phone call." Makes me wonder what was the source? An informant? A bugged phone? Evidence obtained through extra-legal means?

When I'd run through all the seasons available on Netflix, I moved on to Murderous Affairs. Here the gimmick is love gone very wrong. On the minus side, they use a lot of dramatizations with actors who appeared to have been yanked from the office temp pool or relatives impressed into service. Needless to say, you won't be wowed by the acting. In one episode, the "dead victim" giggled when the EMTs tried to lift her onto a gurney. It doesn't help that the cheesy uniforms look purchased from the discount costume bin at Walmart. Aside from that, the compelling hook is the drama and the violence it spawned. As in Forensic Files, victims and killers are middle-class or higher in socio-economic standing. And they make a lot of dumb mistakes. Occasionally there's crossover in cases between Forensic Files and Murderous Affairs. Though Forensic Files has better writing and effects, Murderous Affairs often sheds light on Forensic Files' mysterious phone calls--usually ex's or vengeful rivals dropping a dime. Rejected romance equals revenge.

The Blessings of Ignorance

Truth is, I don't know a thing about writing. With four mysteries (soon five) two historical novels and a non-fiction academic book under my belt, I'm amazed at how little I've learned. Looking back, I'm convinced the best thing that ever happened to me was there was no one around to either encourage or discourage me.

My natural calling was reading. I simply read all the time. It didn't bother my parents or anyone else until society came up with the concept that children should be well-rounded. Then my parents worried. Because it didn't seem quite normal for a child to read that much.  

No problem. I learned to hide my reading. I propped up a book in the drain rack when I dried dishes. There was a book in my music when I played the piano. Yes, I could easily read while my fingers practiced the scales, or whatever. To this day, I'm never without a book.

Do not assume that I was a shy retiring child. In fact I liked other children, and adored adults. During my childhood, one of my biggest pleasures was listening to my father and uncles and their friends tell stories.

No one supervised my reading. When my parents played bridge with Aunt Margaret and Uncle Clarence I headed for the living room and Aunt Margaret's collection from the Doubleday Book Club. What luxury! And such a good little nine-year-old. Never any trouble. But what a brouhaha when they discovered that I had already read Annie Jordan, Unconquered, and Forever Amber.

If someone has asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up when I was nine years old, in my secret heart, I knew I wanted to write books. But saying so would have sounded crazy. I didn't know one single soul who was a writer. I didn't know how one became a writer.

My husband and I were both born in Anderson County, Kansas. When we married, we moved to Western Kansas. He was a truck driver and hauled cattle. A bullhauler. My creative side responded to the vastness of the Kansas prairie. I was certainly free from any social constraints. There was no one to tell me I read too much. I could open the back door and holler if I wanted to. Or eat ice cream. Or go fishing.

Or I could write a book. No one to stop me from doing that either.

I began writing for real when I was about twenty-two or twenty-three. Somewhere in there. I taught myself from articles in the Writer's Digest and from books I ordered through Interlibrary Loan. Although I've never had a creative writing course, my self-education was lengthy and very rigorous. I've never been in a writing group.

Because my "method" is rather strange and seems to vary from book to book, I simply cannot imagine reading part of a manuscript to people who might offer suggestions. Praise or criticism would be destructive during the creative stage. I don't even know who will show up for a book until I'm through with the first draft. It's a work in progress.

I remain convinced that everyone should write a book twice before showing it to anyone. If you have any integrity at all, you will know what's wrong with your own book. So fix it. Then let other people read it. If they have good suggestions that you know are right, apply their ideas. The quickest people to offer criticism will come from people who have never published a book themselves.

My first novel was published by Simon & Schuster. If there were anyone at all around to tell me how hard it was to find an agent, get published, learn how to write, I never would have tried. On the other hand, I really needed a mentor. I've made a lot of mistakes. I would love to take them back. But that applies to a number of missteps in my life.

The waiting

Last Friday night, around 11:30, I finished a manuscript and sent it off to my agent. So now I wait.

The book, from day 1 of conceptualizing until last Friday, took nearly two years to complete. That’s by far the longest any book has ever taken me to write. I changed points of view, tenses, and spent about a month this year in the hospital (all is good now, though). I wrote probably 75 pages that ended up being discarded totally. The storyline, from beginning notes until the final revisions, never changed all that much. But the writing got a lot tighter, the prose became more sparse, and the characters grew more fully realized. (At least, that’s what I think. We’ll see what my agent says.)

One thing I know for sure is this is a family of characters I’d like to go the distance with. But that’s beyond my control. I’m in no-man’s land, the purgatory mid-list authors face when they try to launch a new series, a time of waiting.

One thing I learned writing this book came in the editing process. I’m a listener by nature. I use the text-to-speech option to edit anything I write, from important emails to this blog post to novels. I carefully select the speaker’s voice, fine-tune the pace, and stop often to listen as I compose. I did this while I wrote the novel, listening to passages over and over to rework the syntax, adding fluidity and clarity, always editing by ear. And when the novel was done, I listened to the entire 85,000 words, stopping to re-hear, then reword, clarify, tighten and tweak, until, alas, I sent the book off.

I’m dyslexic, and have always been an auditory person. Audiobooks have always been a large part of my life. During my day job –– I’m an English teacher –– I utilize a listening pedagogy, picking up, on a good day, nearly all of what is said by my students, determining where we go next based on what they say and my assessment of what they grasp.

But nowhere in my life is working by ear more important than my revision process when writing a novel. How does the book sound? That’s what I need to know. As writers, we all think we know what we’ve written. However, it’s not until we hear what we’ve written that we really know what we’ve said, actually understand how our words will be experienced by a reader.

It probably took me 15 hours to carefully listen to every word of the manuscript, and those are probably the most important hours I spent on the book. They were, hopefully, worth every second.

Los Angeles Times Festival of Books 2018

Last Sunday, I attended the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books held at the main campus of the University of Southern California. That’s my alma mater so always fun for me to go back on campus. Lots more buildings than when I went to school there eons ago.

I signed at the Sisters in Crime/Los Angeles booth again this year. The weather was warm, but not overly so. Had a nice time talking to people who stopped by. I also met some Sisters from other chapters (San Diego and Colorado) who were also signing at the booth.

 New this year was something called Newstory Zone, Creative Telling Beyond The Book. It included this Vortex Immersion Media 360 Dome. “Newstory is all about telling stories in inspiring ways that move audiences by offering up new and life-altering perspectives.” That’s what I read online, anyway.

I did not enter the dome, but here’s a video I found on YouTube from the experience.

On the more ordinary side, there was the usual giant crossword puzzles and a place where you could write down what book changed your life. I don’t know if I can think of one book that changed my life. Maybe Nancy Drew. The husband suggested I put my first book down because, well, it did change my life.

Plus areas for YA, children, poetry...

We didn’t spend as long there as we have in the past. Lots to do preparing to go to Malice Domestic. That’s where I’m headed next. That pretty much ends my run of conventions and major events for the year. Phew! Then I can get down to writing Aurora #5, Ghosts of Painting Past. I think I’ll kill off a surfer in this one...

On a more sombre note

by Rick Blechta

I find myself very contemplative today after the tragedy that occurred in Toronto yesterday afternoon. Those of us who write crime fiction deal with violence and the aftermath of violence nearly every time we pick up our (literal or virtual) pens. But with us, it’s just “funning’ around.” I doubt if many of us have actually come across the body of a person whose life ended in murder. (I did once, but that’s a story for another day.)

What has hit home with me (as with many others in and around Toronto) is that I’ve walked that stretch of sidewalk many times over the years. We don’t live that far away, there’s a movie theatre we patronize, and in Mel Lastman Square there is an outdoor amphitheatre where I’ve performed several times with various groups over the years. Literally, I’ve stood right where one person was struck and killed yesterday. A fact like that really tends to make one feel very mortal.

Thank the Lord, this doesn’t appear to be a terrorist attack, just the random act of a troubled person. Because of the actions of a very brave and very well-trained police officer, the suspect was apprehended alive. He was obviously itching for “suicide by cop” if you’ve watched the video of his capture, but the cop resisted using deadly force to end the stand-off. As a result, we might get answers as to why this man did such a horrible thing — not that it’s going to change anything, but answers are always good.

I’m at a point right now in my novel-in-progress where a murder needs to occur.

I don’t think I’ll write about that today.

Using Location. Or Not

By Vicki Delany

We’ve been talking a lot about location here at Type M lately.  I suspect that conversation was started when I discussed my recent trip to London to do on-the-spot research for the fifth Sherlock Holmes Bookshop Book (as yet untitled).

My fellow typists talked about the importance of visiting a place to write about it. Which is something I think is important, and very much like to do.

When I travel people always ask me if I’m going to use that place in one of my future books.

I’m just back from three weeks in Malaysia, and I can guarantee you it will never appear in one of my books.  Not only did I not give my writing a single thought while I was there (unlike many writers who insist they are ‘always’ working, I can and do shut the whole thing down for weeks at a time when I’m on the road) I have no interest in setting a book in Malaysia, or many of the other places 

I’ve been recently.  For one thing, I have no contacts in the police, nor any way of getting any. And even a book about a tourist who runs into trouble in xx spot, needs to know something about how the policing works.  Cozy mysteries generally speaking stick mighty close to home.  Even the trip to London in book 5 required some devious plotting on my part to get the cast of regular characters to tag along.

But I had a great time in Malaysia.  It was like three vacations in one. The jungles and wildlife of Borneo, the cities and culture and food of the Peninsula, and then a beach holiday at the end on Langkawi.

Hope you enjoy a few pictures.

Me and a leaf

Into the jungle on Borneo

An Orangutan in the wild

Sometimes the accommodation was rustic

And sometimes it was not

It rained a bit

My order of an iced  coffee

Loved the town of Melaka

Dinner time

Street art in George Town

Working from Strength

Something occurred to me last night as I was trying to work on several projects at the same time with one eye on my calendar and a to-do-list scribbled on a piece of paper. What I realized -- and should have long ago -- is that I do need that calendar that I had once thought of putting up on my office wall. I need an "at-a-glance" way of planning.

That brings me to the title of this post. My strength is visualizing. If I can "see" it, it falls into place. If I can see it, I can get it done. The tasks I get done on time and with minimal stress happen because I'm so concerned that they will go right that I sweat every step, consider every scenario, and take proactive and preventive action. I think of this as "worrying"and usually save it for only the "too big to fail" projects. But what didn't occur to me until last night is that what I was actually doing was making mind pictures. My strength is "creative visualization" (with a nod to how that phrase is usually used).

This means that I need to get the biggest 2018 calendar I can find and put it up on my wall. Then I need to overlay that calendar with my important dates, using colored pens and appropriate images. A calendar version of a "vision board" that I can see at a glance. Then I will put together my own notebook organizing system that allows me to step into each task and walk my way through the steps -- "mind mapping" as I go and get the steps down on paper.

This sounds like a lot of work. A distraction from getting things done. But when I thought about it, I realized that on the days that go really well, this is what I do. The night before or that morning, I think about what I need to get done and map each "stop" during the day and what I'll need to move from place to place and accomplish what I should. Using this method, I remember the check I'm going to need when I get to the bank and the recipe I should look at before going to the grocery store because I see myself in each place. I've also used this method to remember books I want to look for in the library. And I sail through that day, much more efficiently than when I start out with a to-do-list that I haven't rehearsed.

I also realized I need to walk my way through each writing project I'm working on. This is an improvement on my usual outlining process and much more fun. Rather than saving this step for the revising process, I need to do it now. Play through the character's bios, imagining each character going through his life up to that moment, and then watch the entire movie. When I've done that, I'll be ready to go back and outline. In fact, I suspect this will also work with the non-fiction book. I've been bogged down because I had so much material to weave into a discussion of 400 years of dress and appearance in American crime and justice. Get those images up on my wall and write about them.

This morning something else occurred to me. I'm writing this sitting at the desk in my office at my desktop computer. I've been using my laptop a lot because it's mobile. But I need to be at this computer. When I imagine myself as a writer, I don't see myself working on my laptop. I see myself at my desk -- hands free to move over a keyboard that doesn't distract me because I need to think about it.  Sitting at my desk, I can "see" myself in the long line of writers at their desks.

I'm on my way to the office store to buy my giant wall calendar and my big notebook for organizing. I'm going to pick up anything else that might help me to visualize my way through the rest of the year. I've got a lot to get done -- finish a non-fiction book, finish a historical thriller, write two short stories that I promised to do for anthologies, teach a four-week writing class in June and take part in library events related to an award I'm receiving, conferences to attend -- and a lot of life upkeep and home improvements things that need to be done. But I'm feeling calm. I may be stressed out again tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure stopping to see my day and "walk through it" and then mapping out the tasks I need to get done will help.

Does anyone else use visualization to sweat the small stuff?

Keeping Up With the Times

I’ve started a new novel and am slogging along in the jungles of the first draft. When I’m trying to get a first draft to look like something and having a tough time of it (which is always), I often wonder why I put myself through it. But then if I didn’t have a first draft I wouldn’t have anything to revise. I much prefer doing revisions to writing the first draft of a novel. In my metaphorical little world, writing the first draft is a coarse, rough, sweaty process. You slap that gesso on the wall by the bucket load and slather on the background paint. It’s messy and hard and, for me, a daily act of will to accomplish. But rewriting takes skill. It requires a true eye, real delicacy and finesse to shape that big old expanse of plaster into a work of art.

With rewrites, you get to see the story change shape and, if you’re lucky and skilled enough, grow into something beautiful. Of course, there are those horrible moments when you realize that you’re going to have to lose a scene that you really liked, or that word of which you are so enamored because it no longer fits the picture. I think perhaps that’s when you know you’re a real writer, when you can cut good stuff for the greater good of the story.

I must comment about Barbara's post, below, about how a writer faces the end of her book. I totally relate to her fear of not being able to pull it off. It's really horrible to know exactly how you want it to come off and not be sure you have the chops to do it. I never quite achieve the brilliant, knock-your-socks-off triumph that I had envisioned, but I'm usually pleased enough in the end. I often don't know exactly how it's going to end, myself, until it does. Once I do finish a book, I love to go back over it and fiddle with it, changing a word here, a sentence there, like polishing a new-made piece of furniture. Pulling off a great ending requires not only skill, but insight and not a little luck!

And one last word about computers (see Rick’s cautionary entry, April 17, below). I’m about twenty years behind the times when it comes to technology. I wonder if the reason isn't because I have no kids to shame me into keeping up with the times. For those of us who attained majority before the advent of the computer age, it just ain’t fair. We aren’t stupid. But we grew up in a world that required a whole other set of skills.

I hate to sound like an old curmudgeon who goes on about how she used to live in a shoebox in the middle of the road and eat mud for supper when she was a child, but that’s not going to stop me. I write a historical series, but I don’t think the past was better than the present.  Far from it.  I’m not nostalgic for the past. I don’t rue the fact that the world is changing. That’s the way it is. But it does seem that I hardly recognize the planet I grew up on any more. I don’t value the things that most of society seems to value.

I expect this happens to everyone, and has since the beginning of time. I wonder sometimes about those souls who manage to live to be 100 or 110. How must they feel about the fact that everyone else who understood their world has entered the choir eternal? How must they feel when the very world they knew how to live in is gone, when they find themselves on what amounts to a different planet, and they are the only ones of their species left in existence?

Hmm, there’s a plot in there somewhere. And now I beg to be excused so that I can go back up all my work.

Leaping into the abyss

John's post of last Thursday struck a chord. For me, writing the end is one of the most challenging aspects of creating a novel. Some people struggle with the mushy middle - pacing, twists, how to fill 200 more exciting pages. However, for those of us who fly by the seat of our pants, figuring out how to end the book is what keeps us up at night and fuels many an argument on a solitary walk.

There are actually two parts to the end: the climax, when the hero solves the crime and catches the killer, and the denouement, where everything is explained and loose ends are tied up. Gone are the days of the sleuth gathering everyone in the library (or courtroom) and talking to one suspect to another until he reveals the killer. Nowadays, even in gentler cosy mysteries, readers expect some drama to keep them on the edge of their seats. The climax is usually an action scene that pits hero against villain.

When I write a novel, I don't know whodunnit, why, or how the hero is going to figure it out. I plow ahead from scene to scene, unrolling more twists and complications and putting more balls up in the air. About two-thirds of the way along, I start to panic. Enough complications and balls up in the air! How am I going to land this sucker? I need to keep the hero (and the readers) in the dark, chasing suspects and red herrings, until the last possible minute, when they have an epiphany and go after the right suspect. I also need to have them capture that suspect in a reasonably dramatic scene, to keep the excitement and suspense going to the final moment.

It's a very intricate, high-stakes dance that requires quite a few pieces to come together in exactly the right way. Sometimes I don't even know for sure who my villain is until the final climax, when I have an epiphany of my own. As in "Ahah! This is the perfect villain to pull the whole story together!" Oh, the stress of standing on the edge of the abyss, knowing the end of your novel waits on the other side but with no idea what it is and how you're going to get there. Or indeed whether there is another side.

Tying up loose ends actually plays a role in figuring out the climax. Loose ends are those dozens of balls I have thrown up in the air during the story. Each one of them is a question that need to be answered. Sometimes after days of pacing in front of the abyss, asking "What do I do now?", I list all those questions on a sheet of paper and stare at them, like pieces of a puzzle, asking how they can best fit together, do I need them all, and what if I do this instead of that. Usually out of all this hair-pulling and what if's, the kernel of a solution emerges. A key piece, around which I can start to fit the others.

Once I've written this hopefully spectacular climax, I breathe again. I have a book. Rewrites will focus it, sharpen it, and get rid of the inconsistencies and rough bits. But it works! After this, the denouement is a time to breathe again, to address most the questions as yet unanswered and to hint at the future. The hope is to leave the reader satisfied with the story rather than thinking "But what about...", but also intrigued enough by the characters and the lingering questions to pick up the next book. 

The thing about computers

by Rick Blechta

I read Aline’s post yesterday, and contrary to what she said about my anticipated response, I  felt only sympathy.

Computers remain a mystery to those of us who grew up in an age where these mystical machines filled whole rooms and the biggest job of a programmer was to produce punch cards, those mysterious things that told computers what they were supposed to do.

We now have mobile phones that can do everything those room-size computers did back in the Dark Ages. Think about that for a moment. Technology has advanced to the point that you can slip a formerly room-size machine into your pants pocket, and contrary to making out those very abstract punch cards, my 4-year-old grandson can operate our modern devices. More about this later.*

The thing we oldsters can’t seem to get through our antiquated skulls is that computers have been and always will be Very Complicated Machines. I’ve actually seen the computer code needed to operate (what we call) a simple word processing program. Suffice it to say, it is voluminous, and to the non-programmer, completely impenetrable. Seriously, do not even contemplate trying to understand how your computer program does what it does.

Most of the time our amazing machines cooperate and run splendidly, but like any complicated piece of machinery, things do break down over time.

During the course of my work life I’ve had to learn a number of complicated programs, things that can do really amazing things. There are music scoring programs (3 of those so far), music recording programs (2), graphic design programs (3), photography (1 — thank the Lord!), web design (2), word processing (4). Literally, the instruction manuals for these take up over a metre of shelf space in my office.

Being a musician, one thing that’s been pounded into my head is that you must understand your instrument. In the computer sense, that’s the software you’re using (plus how to do various things on the computer itself). Did I spend a lot of time learning all these programs? You bet! Far too many hours gone forever but it has been of benefit.

Most people don’t  bother to reallylearn more than the bare minimum needed to operate their software. Some don’t even bother doing that. They just learn by the seat of their pants.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #1: Spend time learning your software. Like, actually read the manual first. Don’t use it as a tool to bail yourself out. It pays off in the long run. Oh, and those tutorials actually can help!

The next thing to understand is that because computers are so complicated, there are many more opportunities for them to break down. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. With that in mind, you need to take steps to protect yourself and all your hard work. If it’s a good idea to run maintenance programs on a regular basis — do it! Don’t put it off, don’t ignore it. Your computer will eventually bite you in the patootie. Count on it! (And usually at exactly the wrong time.)

Your hard drive is the heart of your machine. Think of it as your memory. What happens if you lose your memory? You’re in real trouble. Plan on your hard drive breaking down. It. Will. Happen. How do you get out of this conundrum? Back up your files regularly. You cannot be too careful about this. Offsite back-up is the best. If you, say, back-up to a hard drive you bought that sits right next to your computer, what will you do if your house burns down, or somebody robs your house while you’re out? Bet you all the computer gear will disappear. If you have offsite back-up, all you need is to download files to your new computer or hard drive, and away you go. If you’re paranoid like me, you have both a spare hard drive and offsite back-up.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #2: Always plan for the worst when it comes to computers. They will break down and you must have offsite storage or you will lose your work — or risk having to pay thousands of dollars to get it back.

Because computers are complicated, unless you’re a heavy-duty, experienced technician, you’re probably going to be stumped on how to fix it. That’s why it’s so important to cultivate a working relationship with a good and reliable computer technician. Believe me, they can be life savers. At the very least, ask around and see if you have friends or relations who Know About Computers. They can often get you out of a tight spot, and direct you to further resources if they cannot help with your problem. And don’t discount those far younger than you. *Twelve-year-old computer genius’s do exist — and one might live just down the street from you.

Blechta’s Computer Rule #3: Know where to get help before you need it.

So go forth and work with your computers in happiness and contentment — and may your hard drives never fail!

Gratitude

I have an ambivalent attitude towards my computer. Actually, that's not strictly speaking true. Most of the time I mutter at it in a surly way and if I tell you I refer to it as Beelzebub it might give you a more accurate picture.

It has nasty habits, like suddenly freezing when I've written a long and tricky email. It refuses to accept my decisions; it likes my documents to have 'mark up' and even when I set it to 'no mark up' and save it, when I next go to the document, 'mark up' is back. Sometimes. Other times, it does as it's told for a bit and gets bored and reverts.

When it underlines a word and I click on 'ignore all' it does, but then next time I open the document the underlining comes back. Only sometimes, and only with certain words it irrationally takes against; I click 'Ignore all' again but then whoops! back it comes, next time.

It installs updates to do extra things I don't want, and even whole new systems without my consent – yes, Windows 10, I'm talking about you – which make my life more difficult and awkward. Sometimes it decides it doesn't want to print right down to the bottom of the page and even with visible formatting it's impossible to see a reason for this. (This has defeated several experts and I gather I'm not the only one with this problem.) Its 'help' program has yet, even once, to be helpful.

I know I'm incompetent too, of course, and sometimes whatever is irritating me is my fault because I've accidentally touched a key with mysterious effects. Rick is probably even now shaking his head and muttering, 'Silly woman!' But it's just, well, unfriendly. When my first computer went to the place where far too soon (NB Microsoft) tired computers go, I almost shed tears. I certainly shed tears, but of frustration, with the new one.

It's undoubtedly easier to click on Google than to schlep up to the library for a reference or hunt through every poetry book you own for a quotation. And I'm old enough to remember having to type with carbons in, and using industrial quantities of Typex – not to mention having to retype a clean copy after revision. Not fun. But I was fond of my typewriter; you knew where you were with it and mine still lurks at the bottom of a cupboard, just in case the Russians decide to close down the whole system because they're feeling cross.

Oh, I know it has transformed my working life, so I'm grateful for it, of course. It's nice to be grateful and I was very well brought up. But my gratitude to Beelzebub tends to be of the 'Do I have to say thank-you?' sort.

However, today I am genuinely grateful. Not long ago, some of us were talking about the pet phrases we regularly use, more or less without being aware of them, that can easily catch the reader's attention in an irritating way. This time, revising a new book, I realized the way to control them.

The first time I come across one, I type it in and the lovely Find button immediately parades all the shaming repetitions. I can then work through them all with a triumphant cry of 'Eradicate! Eradicate!'

So a real thank you for this, Beelzebub. I'm not ready to rechristen you – you'll have to do a lot better for that – but I'm prepared to soften my voice when I mention you, instead of snarling.

Beware the Hoodlums!

Ann Parker--science/corporate writer by day and crime fiction author by night--writes the award-winning Silver Rush historical series, featuring saloon-owner Inez Stannert, set in 1880s Colorado. The newest in the series, A Dying Note, brings Inez to the golden city of San Francisco, California, in 1881. Publishers Weekly calls this latest addition to the series "exuberant" adding that it "...brims with fascinating period details, flamboyant characters, and surprising plot twists."

Hoodlums in 19th Century San Francisco by Ann Parker

As a writer of historical mysteries, I'll admit I am a fool for period slang, intriguing turn of phrase, and the etymology of words. Language-related trivea is a rabbit-hole I disappear down time and time again when I should be doing other things. . .such as putting words on the page of whatever book I'm working on. So, it was with great delight that I sumbled across the background of the word "hoodlum" during my research for A Dying Note, the newest book in my Silver Rush historical mystery series.

Hoodlum is hardly an uncommon word, even today. In fact, you can view its image over time with a neat-o-Google algorithm called the Ngram Viewer in Good Books. (NOTE: The Ngram Viewer graphs the frequency in percentage terms, of the text being searched, over the time period being specified.)

As you can see right away, "hoodlum" first cropped up around 1870 and ascended in popular usuage from then. However, were you aware that the term was originally coined in San Francisco?

I wasn't!

That is until I stumbled across an online SFGate article titled "'Hoodlums,' a distinctive San Franciso product of the 1870s," by Gary Kamia.

For more historical edification, I turned to (take a deep breath, here comes the title) Americanism, Old and New: a dictionary of words phrases and colloquialisms peculiar to the United State, British America, the West Indies, &c., their derivation, meaning and application, together with numerous anecdotal, historical, explanatory and folk-lore notes. This vastly entertaining reference book by John Stephen Farmer was published in 1889, and you can read it, and download it from the Internet Archive here.

Farmer's definition of hoodlum is a whole lot shorter than the title of his book:

Hoodlum.--a young rough. The term originated in San Francisco, but is now general throughout the Union. 

For a historical perspective on hoodlums and hoodlumism, check out Lights and Shades in San Francisco by Benjamin E. Lloyd published in 1876, which has an entire chapter on the subject (and yes, you can view and download the book with this link I've provided).

A couple of passages from Lights and Shades involving hoodlums caught my eye. The first--quoted below--discusses the sorry state of San Francisco's "corner groceries," which, as it turns out, are not at all what I initially thought they were (i.e., local stores to buy canned goods, mild, cheese, what-have-you):

Of evenings, these corner grocery bar-rooms are largely patronized as "loafing places," by the mechanics, laborers and idlers, whose home are in the neighborhood. A simple lunch is set out here, and also a card table is provided. Here young men and middle-aged men, boys and grey beards congregate at night, to talk vulgar slang, play cards for the "the drinks," and smoke and chew--to go home at a late hour with heavy heads and light purses. It is at these places that the youthful San Franciscan Hoodlums are developed.

This second excerpt is the opening of the Lights and Shades chapter on hoodlums:

THE Hoodlum had his origin in San Francisco. He is the offspring of San Francisco society. What particular phase in social life possesses the necessary fertility to produce such fruit is not obvious. It is certain, however, that the seed has been sown in productive soil, for the harvest is abundant.

The hoodlum has been called a "ruffian in embryo." It would be a better definition to call him simply a ruffian. He has all the essential qualities of the villain. He is acquainted with crime in all its froms. The records of vice are his textbooks. He is a free-born American in its widest sense...

If these passages pique your interest, I encourage you to wander on over and read the rest of Lights and Shades, which offers an intriguing perspective on the world of 1870s--1880s San Francisco (and proved a very useful reference to me for A Dying Note.)

Finally, I just have to add a coda to this post. Th illustration below is from a book titled Quad's Odds by M. Quad 9 (publication date 1875). Here is the text that accompanies the picture:

It requires nerve and courage to be a hoodlum. The boy has got to have the heart of a man, the courage of a lion, and the constitution of an Arab. Only one in a hundred gives him credit for half his worth. No one cares whether he grown fat or starves: whether Fortune lifts him up or casts him down; whether night finds him quarters in a box or a comfortable bed. He's a hoodlum, and hoodlums are generally supposed capable of getting along somehow, the same as a horse turned out to graze. Not one boy in ten can be a hoodlum. Nature never overstocks the market. If left an orphan the average boy dies, or has relatives to care for him, or falls in the way of a philanthropist and comes up a straight-haired young man with a sanctimonious look. The true hoodlum is born to the business. He swallows marbles and thimbles as soon as he can creep, begins to fall down stairs when a year old, and found in the alley as soon as he can walk.

Beware the hoodlums! (The title of this illustration from Quad's Odds is, believe it or not, "The Future Presidents." I shall refrain from political comment, difficult though it is...)

For more information about Ann and her series, chick out http://www.annparker.net.