The Curious Incident of the Deer in the Nighttime - Memories and Writing

Do personal memories ever find their way into my writing? Oh yes. It's a hazard of the job, cataloging every noteworthy occurrence and trying to find a home for it in a novel. (If you're a friend or relative of a writer, rest assured, your personal life is constantly under scrutiny for future use.) In fairness, everyone defines 'noteworthy' in different ways. But take a gander at the following elements of an actual event, and tell me if you don't also find them noteworthy:

• a hand-me-down 1977 burnt orange Chevy Vega;
• two sixteen year old boys who share the privilege of squeezing behind the wheel of the Vega; and
• one deer with a very bad sense of timing.

Maybe not so exciting when taken on their own, but when you combine them on a lonely country road after dark, things get a little more interesting.



The boys are my twin brothers, who at 6' 4" barely fit into that Vega (even with the driver's seat pushed all the way back, their knees still cradled the steering wheel). They were coming home from basketball practice one evening, minding their own business, when a deer dashed out of the brush and smacked into the side of the car. The poor thing hit the car hard enough to knock itself out and leave a dent in a fender. My brothers, good Samaritans and smart enough to know that there was no way our mom would believe that they weren't responsible for denting the car, hoisted the unconscious deer into the Vega's hatch area, and then one of my 6' 4" brothers folded himself in half, climbed into the tiny hatch area with the deer, and held its feet just in case it woke up on the drive home.

Alas, Mom did not believe them despite the presence of an unconscious deer in her car and reassurance from her husband and her Sheriff's deputy brother that yes indeed, deer do occasionally get the timing wrong and run into a car instead of in front of it. My brothers suffered mightily for the damage that deer did to the poor little Vega.

Until, that is, the same thing happened to my mom in her big ol' honkin' brown Oldsmobile.

Same road. Same time of day. Same spot on the fender. Different deer, one hopes.

Mom did not bring the deer home as proof of how the big Olds got dented, but she forgave my brothers. Grudgingly.

Did I use all this in a story? Heck yes. In THE DEVIL OF LIGHT, after my fictitious Grove twins hit the deer, they got distracted by a glow off in the forest and go to investigate. That leads them to a fire pit where a human foot has just been burned. Toward the end of the book, their mother gets hit by a deer (on a different road), and ends up being held captive by a cult.



I'm not sure it's possible to keep our memories and our writing separate. And I think that's a good thing. A touch of reality adds flavor and more often than not a little hilarity. Who couldn't do with more of that?


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photo credit: liverpoolhls Bones of the foot via photopin (license)

#Interview Part 2: The Worst #Advice I Ever Got About #Writing (and more) on @NChristie_OH 's Blog

Join me on Nancy Christie's blog for Part 2 of our interview. (See Part 1 here.) We dig into the part of the writing process that makes me break out in hives; story inspiration; title creation (something I totally stink at); the most difficult book I've written; the challenges and rewards of self-publishing; and more!

Nancy Christie is a woman worth knowing whether you're a reader or writer. She's a full-time author, speaker, and instructor, teaching at conferences and in classrooms across the country. She also has a huge heart and is a lovely person to know.



You can find Nancy on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google+, or on her website where you'll find links to her writing blogs and upcoming speaking gigs.

Water, Water Everywhere, and all the (Potential) Crimes It Reveals #mystery

We've had a very wet winter and spring - that's something you won't hear people from Texas say with any sort of frequency. But this year it's true. (Every drop of rain is welcome after the drought of 2011. Even when they come in a torrent. Day after day. And drown your garden. We could do without the tornadoes, high winds, hail, and lightning strikes, but the rain is good.)

It's interesting to see how the land reacts to so much water. Our house and some of the best pasture are on high ground, which drops away steeply to hardwood covered bottom land, and then to a creek at our property boundary. This year the bottom land flooded, and looked like this:

The water was deep enough to cover the bottom strand of the electric fence and in places, the top strand. We needed a jet ski instead of a tractor. The good news is that since we couldn't get to the bottom land, neither could the cows, so there was little risk they'd make a break for it to graze along the roadside. (Honestly, the grass is greener...)


Because of our land's topography, we experience quite a bit of run-off. This year the rain has moved dead timber, washed away soil, and uncovered potential evidence of a crime.

We were checking the damage from a strong storm and peeking from the earth were bits of fabric: a baby blanket, baby clothes, women's clothes, a sheet, a single baby shoe, toy shoes, and a spoon. (You know where I'm headed. This can't just be somebody's trash. There has to be a murder involved. Or at least a disappearance.)



I would've been irritated with the neighbors if I'd found this stuff near the back fence, where trash occasionally gets dumped. And I might've figured the people who rented our house back in 2005 tossed out a bag of clothes because they couldn't be bothered to go to the county dump (they weren't the cleanest of people). But these clothes were in the middle of our property, nowhere near the house or any fences.

They've been here for a while. It's not like the clothes were just sitting on the ground. Some were close to the surface, while others were buried under several inches of soil. Some were rotting, and the styles could be from 1980s onward. It's hard to believe all of these clothes didn't get put here at the same time. So what are the possibilities?

A woman and her child were on the run from her abusive husband. She snuck onto our property and picked a sheltered location to spend the night, but had to flee when her husband found her, and she left a bag of clothes behind. Or maybe he killed her and buried the bodies.

A drug addicted woman got kicked out of her home. She packed clothes, her drugs and a spoon to cook them in, and she and her child ended up living on our property. The former property owner surprised her and she took the baby and ran, leaving the clothes and spoon behind. Or maybe he killed her and wild hogs ate the bodies.

A woman and child were on the run, but the person they were running from caught them, killed them, buried the bodies, but didn't worry about the clothes. (Our place is big enough that you could bury a body here and we might never find it. That's not an invitation, by the way.)

A woman steals a child and hides on our property. The police surprise her and she runs, leaving the clothes and spoon behind.

A family falls on hard times and is walking, looking for work, carrying their few belongings. They sleep in pastures at night, but this night the land owner surprised them and they fled, leaving the clothes and spoon behind. Or maybe he killed them all and...well, you know the rest.

The wife of one of the oilfield workers who come on and off our place on almost a daily basis gave him a bag of trash to toss and instead of taking it to the dump, he left it on our place.

Isn't it great? All of these scenarios (except the last one, unless the land owner sees the oilfield worker toss the trash, kills him, and buries the body) could find a home in one of the Cass Elliot novels. All thanks to the rain.

What about you? What weird things (and plot lines) has the weather uncovered for you?

(Were these clothes somehow linked to a real crime? Probably not. The guy we bought the land from left the gates unlocked and people came on and off to hunt, fish, and who knows what else. As my husband suggested, this is probably just a bag of trash someone dumped, but it's much more fun to think there's a crime behind the clothes.)

Meet My Character Blog Tour - Maxine Leverman

I was lucky enough to be asked by Charles Dougherty (@clrdougherty) to introduce the main character from my current novel. Charles is probably best known for the Bluewater Thriller series, but my favorite book of his is a mystery called DECEPTION IN SAVANNAH. It has a great cast of characters and is loaded with a twisty plot that will have you laughing and dying to know who done it.

Be sure to meet the main characters from the Bluewater Thriller series on Charles' blog (click here), and at the end of this post, I'll introduce you to two new authors, so keep reading!

One of the things I love about writing a series is that I never know where the characters will take me. People often assume that my characters are an amalgamation of people I've known with a smidge of my personality thrown in, but this is rarely true. So far, my characters have arisen from the imaginary world I've created, Forney County, to fill a necessary role in the story. We need an insecure sheriff, and hey presto, Bill Hoffner is born and matures through the books. Characters rarely arrive fully loaded with an intact history; instead, I have the pleasure of learning about them as the stories, and then the series, unfolds.

Today I'm introducing a character who made herself known in the second Cass Elliot crime novel, AVENGERS OF BLOOD. Maxine Leverman appeared about halfway through the book, and once I finished writing, she wouldn't leave my head. So I decided to try and write her out of it. Will it work? She's turning out to be a persistent gal and I suspect she'll end up having a series of her own, but only time will tell.

Who is Maxine Leverman?

Maxine was born in 1985, the same year as Cass, which makes them both 26 in 2011, the year the first two Cass Elliot novels and Maxine's first book begin. She and Cass have known each other since childhood and in Maxine's words:

Cass Elliot is my best friend. Has been since, well, maybe not since before dirt, but certainly since we were eating dirt. Usually at her house. Mud pies tasted better there, probably thanks to something toxic in the soil.

Maxine married young and divorced her hedge fund managing husband after realizing he was a cross-dresser. She's making him pay for his love of lingerie, literally, and has no need of a job. On a weekend out partying after her divorce, she was drugged, raped, and marked with a scar that runs from her collar bone to beneath her breast. She and Cass lost touch during "the hedge fund years", but Maxine finally came to Cass in AVENGERS OF BLOOD, seeking help in finding the man who attacked her. She discovered that Cass has a similar scar on her chest; it seems they've been raped by the same man, although years apart.

After Cass is shot in AVENGERS OF BLOOD, Maxine decides to become a private investigator to work with Cass in finding and stopping their rapist.


When and where is the story set?

Maxine's first novel moves between the very fictional Arcadia located in Forney County in East Texas, and the very real Dallas, Texas. Maxine was born and raised in Arcadia but finds that even though she needs to come home to be closer to Cass, she can't leave her big city life behind. Thankfully, she has enough dirt on the cross-dressing ex-husband to fund comfortable homes in both locations.

The book is set in 2011, the year of Texas' worst drought in nearly a century. If you've read the Cass Elliot crime novels, you'll recognize many of the characters who turn up in Maxine's story. In a place as small as Arcadia, we're bound to bump into the same people now and again. But you'll also meet a host of new characters relevant to Maxine's life and this mystery.


What defines Maxine?

Maxine is ferociously headstrong and independent. Her father adored her but valued her older brother because he was the male child and therefore the heir to their family's oilfield business. She found herself competing for their father's recognition until his death when she was twelve. During their childhood and into their adult lives, their mother was absorbed in competing with her husband by building a successful custom furniture business.

This lack of attention and love drove Maxine into the bosom of the dysfunctional Elliot family. She spent much of her childhood in Cass's home, simply accepted as another of the many children racing through the house.

Maxine is defined by her gender, or more specifically by her father's belief that while girls are special, boys are worthy. Marriage to the hedge fund manager introduced her to power and money on a massive scale, and while she's more than financially secure thanks to his love of silk panties and the trust fund her father left her, she needs to build her own life, to find a path that allows her to be taken seriously. She's decided that the road to credibility lies in becoming a private investigator and working at the Lost and Found Detective Agency with her aunts, Kay and Babby, and her cousin Cindy.


What is the main conflict? What messes up her life?

Maxine is mouthy, impetuous, and overtly sexy. She's fully capable of messing up her own life, although circumstances outside her control have contrived to kick her occasionally. She surreptitiously takes a case on her first day at Lost and Found and decides to work it herself, assuming that finding a missing husband is a no-brainer. After all, she's had a husband, hasn't she? How hard can it be to find one that's gone astray?

From that decision, things go from bad to worse. When the aunts find out, Kay makes up her mind to fire Maxine for working without a PI license, and Babby only manages to save her by promising that Maxine will work under her supervision. Chastised, Maxine accepts the help of her aunts and cousin and finds the husband, but also discovers that his life is a tangled web of lies. The deeper she digs, the more secrets she discovers and the harder it is for Maxine to let go of a case she's already solved. When people start dying, she doesn't believe the police have arrested the right murderer and pushes her aunts, her cousin, and Cass to help her find the truth.


What drives Maxine?

When she started working at Lost and Found, Maxine's sole goal was to use their resources to find her rapist. But as she's worked the case of the missing husband, she's found that she enjoys investigations and that her passion for seeing things to completion (or her hardheadedness, depending who you ask) is a benefit that can drive her to succeed. More importantly, she's discovered that the truth, and finding it, matters greatly to her.


Is there a working title for this novel?

Nope, no title yet.


When can we expect the book to be published?

Follow me on Twitter (@gaelynnwoods) or Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/gaelynn.woods) for news about this release and upcoming Cass Elliot novels.

________________________________________________

And now I'd like to introduce you to two fabulous authors that I've read and enjoyed, Dana Griffin and Sinclair Macleod. Check their blogs in the next week or so for introductions to one of their characters.

Dana Griffin (dana-griffin.com) writes high intensity airline thrillers. Yes, thrillers about airplanes. His first two books are THE COVER-UP and COERCED, and Dana knows what he's talking about. He's been a pilot for 25 years, the last 15 of those with major airlines. All this experience gives his books a reality that makes for a wild, conspiracy-filled ride. You can find him on Twitter at @DanaGriffin97.

Sinclair Macleod (sinclairmacleod.blogspot.com) lives in Glasgow and writes THE RELUCTANT DETECTIVE mystery series starring Craig Campbell, a Glaswegian insurance investigator pressed into finding out who murdered a young boy. Sinclair has a way with characters, giving you a sense that these are real people who live and breathe. He draws you into the seedy underside of life, but manages to leave you with a bit of hope for humanity no matter how depraved we may seem. You can find him on Twitter at @sinclairmacleod.

Have Your Characters Ever Gone Missing?

The main character in the new series I'm writing has gone AWOL and I think I know why: she's not getting enough attention.

Her name is Maxine Leverman and she's a moody creature, even a bit of a diva. She first made herself known in AVENGERS OF BLOOD, book two of the Cass Elliot series, and hasn't shut up since. She's caused such a ruckus that I shelved plans for the third Cass Elliot novel and started working on a new series featuring Maxine. Why would someone who loves center stage disappear? I think she's in a huff because she's not front and center, so she's pouting in silence. (Not very mature, granted, but that's part of her beauty - and it gives her great room to grow.)

Life is exhausting at the moment, due to the family-type stuff we all go through, and to tax season. ("It's just math," someone said recently. I shuddered. It is math, but not as we know it, Jim. It's a soul-sucking blend of addition, subtraction, and the occasional venture into astrophysics when calculating deductions. But I digress...) Suffice to say that my time to write and my emotional capacity to even ponder this current book is limited.

And so Maxine has wandered off.

I was a little freaked out when I couldn't find my main character and ran around like a frantic parent, scouring my consciousness for any sign of her, but she wouldn't appear. Then I tried ignoring her, glancing sideways when I thought she might not be looking, but no luck there, either. I've also tried thinking about her as I fall asleep, hoping to lure her out of my subconscious, but she's not having any part of my dreams.

This current book is about Maxine's foray into the world of private detectivedom. Without her, does the story still exist? Probably not. But thankfully, there's been a surprising benefit while she's been gone: when I do have time to write or ponder, the other characters are demanding to be heard. They're spilling all kinds of good gossip about the main character and her history, and they're adding morsels about their own pasts. This story is gaining depth from unexpected angles, which is great news.

Although I'm not as frantic as I was when she first went missing, there is that nagging worry that she won't come back at all, and this book will be kaput. I hope that with a little love and attention after tax season - and maybe a new pair of Jimmy Choos (Maxine'll do almost anything for expensive shoes) - she'll decide it's worthwhile to stalk back onto the page and take the limelight again. But only time will tell.

What do you do when your characters go silent, if they do? How do you find them? Do they eventually come back and grace you with their presence, or are they gone for good?

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How To Get Even When Your Husband Brings Home a Banjo

Banjo. I never thought I'd write that word with any sort of seriousness. And I certainly never thought I'd have one in my house.

Billy Redden

Let me start by saying that I love my husband dearly. Let me add that when I hear the word 'banjo', my mind conjures the scene in Deliverance where the spooky-looking hillbilly is sitting on his porch swing playing "Dueling Banjos" opposite Ronny Cox on guitar. It's a great scene, even with the banjo, but we all know where the movie goes after that, don't we?


I was dubious from the moment my husband mentioned wanting a banjo for trad jazz gigs (traditional jazz - think Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton) and hoped this was a phase that would soon pass. When I married a professional jazz musician, I understood what I was getting into. Smokey clubs, coming home in the wee small hours, endless practice, roadie duties, and tons of equipment. Guitars, double basses, a cello, a piano, amplifiers. All would be right with the universe as long as the musical-instrument-to-handbag-ratio remained in balance. Never, as I was pondering marital bliss, did I imagine that my husband would want to bring home a banjo.

Before we went in search of said instrument, he played a track of Chuck Wayne playing be-bop banjo on his album Morning Mist, which was bearable. In fairness, it was better than I expected, but still, it was a banjo. Off we went to Banjo Haven in Longview, Texas. The shop's awesome proprietor, Vinnie Mondello, senses my hesitation over having a banjo in the house, and assures me that the tenor banjo my husband has picked out is nothing like the banjo from Deliverance. (It looks the same to me, but I'm no expert.) Just to cement the deal, he tells me that things could be worse: my husband could want to play jazz accordion.

 

Point taken.

Martyn and the banjo

We're now the proud owners of a 1928 Vega Professional tenor banjo and my husband is delighted, as evidenced by the amount of time he's spent playing the thing and the equal amount of time I've spent with The Kinks blasting through my headphones. My husband usually plays jazz guitar (think Joe Pass, Barney Kessel, Jim Hall), which is a very mellow sound. This is in sharp contrast with the plinky-plinkness of the banjo.

It's been a few days now and I'm starting to thaw, but the whole banjo thing has been a shock to the system, so getting even on two fronts seems a reasonable response. First, the instrument-to-handbag-ratio requires re-balancing. Therefore, shopping.

Second, I've just decided to write a banjo playing jazz musician into my current book. Since I write crime fiction, chances are the banjo will be the first to die, and I'm pretty sure it'll be a violent death. (I can't kill the player now, can I? He's got gigs to play and handbags to buy.)

Anybody want to book a New Orleans' style jazz band with banjo player? Send me an email.

Thanks Vinnie!

(I suppose I should come clean. I'm not totally opposed to the banjo, but I am a selective listener (my husband is sounding pretty good, by the way, and he's taught me the first bar of "Dueling Banjos"). Check out "Stone Rollin' Home" by one of my favorite groups, The Sonny Walters Band, and listen to local bluegrass band The Blake Brothers - amazing guys and great musicians.)

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It's Time for Torture #amwriting

Time is the perfect element for torture. It's silent, stealthy, and leaves no marks of its own accord, although those suffering from a bout of torturous time may show signs of wear. It's an arbitrary beast. Have you noticed? And if you're in the market for a way to torture your characters, time can play a role, becoming a character in and of itself.

Just so we're clear, I'm not talking about the science fiction working your way through a worm hole type of arbitrary. I'm talking about your everyday garden variety type of arbitrary. Take, for example, time spent waiting for a subway train. Like those that run on the London Underground, where most of my subway experience has occurred.

There are electronic signs that tell you which train is coming next and how long you'll have to wait until that train makes it to the station. But if you pay attention, you might notice that the number of minutes you actually wait bears no resemblance to the number on the sign. You might also notice that the numbers count down the minutes until the train is due to arrive, but the numbers don't always move in 60 second increments.


A three minute wait for a train might actually take thirty seconds, or could stretch into twenty-two minutes. All the while, the sign reassures you that it'll only be three Underground minutes until the train arrives. This lack of reliability used to drive me crazy when I lived in London and I can imagine a similar wait causing untold damage to the psyche of a character who's in a hurry.

 
 Hospitals and doctor's offices are places where time warps, usually expanded into a mind-numbing slowness. Could an illness lurk in the wings for one of my Forney County characters, forcing them to twiddle their thumbs or watch inane daytime television in a doctor's office or medical waiting room, testing their powers of perseverance?

I've noticed another truism about time. The older I get, the faster time passes. When I was a kid, summers lasted f o r e v e r. Remember that? When I once moaned about time passing quickly, my 96 year old grandmother told me to wait until I reached her age. The years literally whipped past. It's as if we're born into the outer edges of a whirlpool, making wide, lazy circles around a massive drain. As we age, we draw nearer to the drain plug, spinning faster and faster toward our final destination.

 
(Sorry. Didn't mean to get morbid. But this aspect of time might be relevant to one of my characters as they age, driving them to behaviors and decisions they might otherwise not have made.)

 



To add a more unique twist to this whole discussion about time, let me tell you about a friend. She was the pedestrian victim of a hit and run accident several years ago, and nearly died. Although she's lost the use of her right arm, she's able to walk short distances using a walker and she has regained her ability to paint. Her mental capacity, however, has changed significantly. Her doctors estimate that her short term memory lasts about 45 seconds. Think about that. In about the same amount of time it takes to sing 'Happy Birthday' three times, her most recent memories are gone. When we see each other, we have the same conversation over and over and over and over. "Your sweater is so pretty. I love that shade of brown. And it looks warm." Pause for about 20 seconds. "I love that sweater. That shade of brown is gorgeous, so earthy, and it looks really nice on you." (Is it troublesome, having basically the same conversation again and again? Given her sweet, funny, resilient personality, absolutely not. In some ways, it makes me love her more.)

Maybe it's time that one of my characters experience an event that impacts their memory, altering their sense of time. That could wreak some havoc for a detective, a criminal, or a witness to a crime.

What do you think about the 'reality' of time? Do you use it and its many deviations from our 'real' reality to torture your characters? To increase the tension in your stories?


 


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Making Time for The Voices in My Head

My head is a crowded place these days, even more so than usual. I'm one of those weirdos who walk around talking to imaginary people. Most of the time the conversations take place in my brain, although sometimes the words slip out into real life. (Putting your hand to your ear is a great remedy when this happens - people just assume that you're talking on a headset...)

I love the voices in my head. Some would tell you that I'm nuts, which isn't far from the truth, but talking to imaginary folks is one way I work through story lines, "hear" dialogue, and learn about my characters. We find creative ways to kill other imaginary people and then to catch the murderers. Or not. It's the part of the writing process that I enjoy most. So having noise and distraction whirling around my brain are the norm for me.

But lately, it's gotten worse.

I can only blame it on the time of year and how busy we are. My husband is a musician and December is his busiest rehearsing and gigging month by far. Add holiday parties (and several birthday parties) to the mix, family gatherings, and gift shopping and wrapping, and time seems to whip by at supersonic speeds! It's wonderful and I wouldn't trade the time or experiences for anything, but I'll bet you know exactly the kind of joyful exhaustion it brings.

 
All this activity has invaded my already crowded head with its lists, its preparations, its late nights. And it's intruding on my "alone time" with my characters.

You know what? I've found that I miss it, that I actually need that time with my imaginary friends to maintain my sanity. Strange, eh? There's something about talking with fictional people that's soothing. For some reason, they're a balance to the season's joyful exhaustion. I feel more rested if I take time to listen to them, and I'm probably a nicer person overall if I've had a chance to chat with my imaginary friends.

This year's holiday season will soon draw to a close and I'm looking forward to getting back into my less crowded head and letting my characters have more space. And next year, I'll do a better job of making time for me and my imaginary friends. So, how do you cope with the season's busy-ness?


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What Vincent van Gogh Taught Me About Plagiarism

Self Portrait with Felt Hat

Have you ever heard a comment that stopped you in your tracks? I recently asked an author friend what she was reading. She replied that she doesn't read when writing or editing for fear she'll plagiarize someone.

That stumped me.

For me, reading is akin to breathing - a physical necessity. I read all the time and usually have several books in play at once. I simply hadn't considered the possibility that because I read while editing or writing that someone else's work might end up in one of my books.

The Chambers Dictionary, New Ninth Edition, defines 'plagiarize' as: "to steal ideas or writings from another person and present them as one's own."

My friend's comment hung in the back of my mind. It worried me a bit until my husband and I spent the better part of a day in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. That was the first time I realized how much effort Vincent, arguably one of the finest artists in history, put into copying other people's art.

I adore Van Gogh's work. It's simultaneously soothing and uplifting to me. But Vincent van Gogh was a plagiarist. A blatant copyist. And you know what? That makes me respect him all the more.

Many people think Vincent was an out and out nutter (thanks to the whole ear incident and a few other odd events), but if there's one thing that Van Gogh understood, it was that he had much to learn as an artist.

The Courtesan (after Eisen)

He was mostly self-taught and used the works of painters he admired to explore their techniques, and eventually, to develop his own. Vincent greatly admired Jean-Francios Millet's style and copied at least 21 of Millet's paintings, adding his own influence through the use of color. He dabbled in the pointillist style of painting developed by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac and made outright copies of Japanese prints by Hiroshige. All in the aid of furthering his own abilities, of developing his own style.

We treasure these copies, these attempts to imitate someone else's work just as much as we treasure Van Gogh's originals, such as Starry Night, The Potato Eaters, and the Sunflowers paintings. Vincent's copies are attributed as being 'after' a particular painter to credit the original artist. There is no doubt that Van Gogh was using the work of someone he admired to help develop his art rather than trying to pass the works off as his own.

But now we come to writers.

Hear me clearly: am I saying that plagiarism as an author is a good thing?

Absolutely not.

What am I saying? That reading the works of people I admire is crucial to how I develop my style, my technique, my ability to pace a plot, to grow a character, to write believable dialogue, to create stories that capture the imagination.

Peasant Woman Binding Sheaves (after Millet)

This is no different than a musician who listens to other musicians and hears and modifies a particular riff. Robert Johnson, the famous bluesman, recorded modified versions of several existing recordings such as Skip James' 22-20 Blues and Devil Got My Woman, changing them so much that they became his own. These in turn influenced groups such as the Rolling Stones, who further evolved this original blues style into the gritty rock 'n' roll sound they're famous for today.

The Lennie Tristano method of teaching jazz focused on singing solos by Lester Young and other jazz greats, note for note. Not so they could be reproduced note for note, but rather so the musician incorporated the style, the feeling of those tunes into their own music, and then used improvisation to make the music their own. 

While I'm editing, I deliberately read books by authors whose writing captivates me. Rather than being fearful that I'll plagiarize them, I'm hopeful that the qualities about their writing that I so admire will seep into my brain and influence how I write, not necessarily what I write.

Skull with Burning Cigarette

I'm grateful for my friend's comment about her fear of plagiarizing someone else's work. I'm equally grateful that we were in Amsterdam at the Van Gogh Museum not long after. Vincent taught me that studying the works of those we consider great, in an honest attempt to improve ourselves, can only help us mature, regardless of our art.

What about you? Do you find reading a source of inspiration while you write or edit, or is it a distraction?


photos taken by Gae-Lynn Woods at the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Calf Weaning as Writing Inspiration

They say you should write what you know, and right now, I know about decibels. This time of year, I wonder if raising cows is worth the hassle.

Newborns look so innocent

It’s weaning season, which means it’s noisy on the ranch. A lot of farmers calve in the winter and then wean in the summer. We plan our calving (to the extent that we can control the amorous advances of our 2,000 pound bull) for spring. This gives the mothers access to fresh, nutritious grass to help them rebuild their strength after being pregnant through the winter, and also ensures the calves can start grazing as soon as possible. Early grazing helps the calves put on weight because they have access to both milk and grass.

It’s hugely entertaining to watch calves go from wobbly newborns to curious youngsters through the summer. During that time, they’re grazing, nursing, and learning to eat the little bit of feed we give them through those normally green months. They’re also gaining some independence, forming cliques, and venturing away from the herd to graze with their ‘friends’. By the time autumn rolls around, the calves are about six months old and it’s time to stop them from nursing so their mothers can put on weight for the winter and get ready to deliver the next batch of calves. 

Unhappy bull calf...

Despite the calves’ pretensions of independence, they’re still babies at six months old. And like human babies, they bawl for their mothers as soon as they’re separated. The cows add to the noise because their udders are full of milk, but there are no calves around to drink it. So, for a few days, it’s a moo chorus around here, night and day. (Secretly, the cows must heave a sigh of relief when the calves are weaned. It’s hard work nursing a 500 pound baby, and for all the belly-aching, I think the mommas are happy to see the babies weaned.)

Thankfully, our nearest neighbors are about a quarter of a mile away, so it’s only us who lose sleep for these few days. Ear plugs are some help, but it’s amazing how much noise one six month old calf can make, much less a whole herd of them. We’ll give them six weeks to put on some weight, then it’s off to the sale barn they go, to repay some of the investment we’ve made in them and the ranch.

So right now, weaning is what I know. Will I be able to work the experience into a

story? I think so. Whether it’s a neighbor who goes nuts over the noise, a rustler who takes advantage of the chaos to steal some cows, or a calf stampede, yes, I’ll find a use for weaning. And given that I write crime novels, a fictional someone will probably die in the process. Time to find a victim…

photo credit: quinn.anya via photopin cc

Meet the Women of Best Friends #BookClub in Mt. Pleasant!

I had the pleasure of spending the evening with the beautiful women of Best Friends Book Club in Mt. Pleasant, TX last night, and boy, are these ladies a serious group of book lovers! We had a fantastic time talking books (and even a few TV shows and movies). THE DEVIL OF LIGHT was a book club selection this summer, and everyone gave it two thumbs up!

Book club members from left to right: Cat McDermott, Loree Petree, Vickie Chatham, Lori Stringham, and Founder and President, Jeanette McDermott (Lisa Garner also joined in by conference call!)

We met at Luigi's and had a great dinner (the Pasta Trio was wonderful, and the Lobster Ravioli looked really good, just in case you decide to stop by).







Conversation ranged far and wide and included the generation of story ideas, character development, the emotions a good book conjures when you're writing or reading it, how the bad guy should die a very bad death, and sex (of course) - how much characters should have, how much to reveal, sex early in a relationship versus sex in a relationship that develops over time. The ladies had some thoughtful feedback on their preferences. We also brainstormed the third Cass Elliot novel, and that was a blast. (Everyone agreed the villain should die in a horrible way - Cass and I will do our best to deliver!)





The ladies talked about stories that have left their mark on the book club. Someone mentioned the title MIDDLESEX (by Jeffrey Eugenides) and everybody broke into laughter - I'll definitely read that book!





Thanks again to Best Friends Book Club for a fabulous evening, and for the two things absolutely fundamental for book generation: sexy coffee cups and beautiful notepaper! I hope to see you all again soon!

Genesis of a Novel: The Horrific Death of James Byrd Jr.

James Byrd Jr.

On occasion, an idea for a novel will spring fully formed into my mind. More often, it takes some time and several prompts for an idea to take hold and germinate. 

In the case of AVENGERS OF BLOOD, the tiny seed of an idea came to me when I read about James Byrd Jr.'s brutal killing. It took place in Jasper, Texas on June 7, 1998 and is a shameful part of our state's history.

Byrd was beaten, chained by his ankles to the back of a pickup truck, and then dragged to his death. The coroner believed it took almost three miles to kill him. This was as cold-blooded a murder as you'll come across.

Although Byrd's death caught my attention, what really grabbed me and planted the seed of the idea was his family's reaction. I cannot imagine the hell they must have lived through as they learned the circumstances of his death and sat through the trials of the three men eventually convicted of Byrd's murder.

But instead of responding to his killers with anger, with outrage, they spoke about forgiveness. When the Ku Klux Klan and the Black Panthers held demonstrations in Jasper, Byrd's family called for peace and tolerance. When two of his murderers were sentenced to death, the Byrd family spoke out, asking that their sentences be commuted to life, saying that was punishment enough for them.

I'm a little ashamed to admit that I couldn't get my head around this.

I'm a Christian. I believe in the power of forgiveness, for both the forgiver and the forgiven. The Byrd family has my respect, my admiration for their words and actions. But if what happened to James Byrd Jr. happened to someone that I love? I'm not sure I'd be strong enough to react in the same way, and I can only hope I could muster the courage to try and forgive.

As for the novel, the seed didn't germinate until I was sitting in church one Sunday, bored by a sermon. (Hey, all you preachers, it happens more often than you'd think.) Instead of paying attention, I was leafing through my Bible looking for distraction. And I found it in Numbers 35:20-21 (NIV):

And if he thrust him of hatred, or hurled at him, lying in wait, so that he died, or in enmity smote him with his hand, so that he died; he that smote him shall surely be put to death; he is a murderer: the avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death, when he meeteth him.

Brutal, eh? It's Old Testament, and I like it. This reaction would be more true to who I am than offering forgiveness. (I did say that I'd like to have the courage to forgive, but I'm giving you honesty.)



And there it was. The idea for a story about vengeance for a crime that was so unimaginably horrible, made even more intolerable because justice was denied, that no punishment other than death would do. That led me to the tag line for AVENGERS OF BLOOD:

A horrific triple murder; a crime without punishment; and memories that will not be silenced.

This is not the story of James Byrd Jr.'s killing. No piece of fiction could come close to portraying the nightmare of his death. Instead, it explores the opposite of the Byrd family's courageous reaction to their loved one's murder: the desperate need for resolution, for a price to be exacted in payment for a terrible wrong.

Read AVENGERS OF BLOOD and then tell me: which is closer to your heart? Forgiveness or vengeance?


photo credit: knowhimonline via photopin cc

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop: AVENGERS OF BLOOD

Charles Dougherty

Last week, fellow writer Charles Dougherty (@clrdougherty on Twitter) invited me to participate in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. 

If you haven't met Charles, stop by his blog. And if you haven't read his books, give them a try. I've read DECEPTION IN SAVANNAH and enjoyed it - it's a great mystery with quirky characters (even a raccoon with a personality) and it'll have you laughing out loud!

You'll find links to six other fabulous authors at the bottom of this post. Follow the links on February 7, 2013 to learn more about their works.


 

1) What is the working title of your book?

AVENGERS OF BLOOD. It's the second book in the Cass Elliot crime series.


(AVENGERS OF BLOOD is now live on Amazon! Get it here.)

 
2) Where did the idea for the book come from?

The idea for AVENGERS OF BLOOD came to me after I read about James Byrd Jr.'s murder in Jasper, Texas back in 1998. His death was atrocious, but even more than his killing, it was his family's reaction that caught my attention. They chose to forgive his killers, even asking that the two who received the death penalty have their sentences changed to life without parole.

AVENGERS OF BLOOD isn't a book about James Byrd Jr. or his family. Instead, it asks what would happen if someone chose vengeance instead of forgiveness. If you want to read more about how the novel came to be, read this post.


3) What genre is your book?

It's a crime thriller.


4) What actors would you choose to play the characters in a movie rendition?

Oooh, this is a hard one. Each of my characters is fully formed in my head, but finding the right person to fit that image is tough! I picture Cass Elliot as a Kate Mara or Jennifer Lawrence kind of gal. 

Kate Mara

I can see Matthew McConaughey as Mitch Stone, although he might have to put on a little weight. Just a smidge. He's an East Texas boy, so he's got the accent down and he could probably pull together Mitch's swagger and vulnerability. 

My editor recommended Harrison Ford for Sheriff Bill Hoffner - yup, that would definitely work. 

Harrison Ford

5) What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

A horrific triple murder, a crime without punishment, and memories that will not be silenced.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Self-published.


7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

About 90 days for the first draft and another 45 for editing.


8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Probably Karin Slaughter's Grant County series. They're gritty crime thrillers with a strong, flawed female lead.

9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?

This story has been nagging at me for years, but the plot is a bit complicated and I wasn't sure I could pull it off. It involves two sets of individuals who are seeking vengeance from the same people, but for different reasons. Things get nasty when their paths cross. When I finished THE DEVIL OF LIGHT, I talked the plot for AVENGERS OF BLOOD over with my husband, and he encouraged me to try writing it.


10) What else about the book might pique the reader's interest?

If you've read THE DEVIL OF LIGHT, you know that the book ends without full resolution: some of the bad guys get away, a character's life hangs in the balance, and Cass Elliot's future as a Forney County Detective is uncertain. Some of those loose ends are tied up in AVENGERS OF BLOOD, and others continue to weave through the series storyline (yup, Hitch and the old man still linger...).

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And now to introduce six great authors - in no particular order. Remember to check out their Next Big Thing posts on February 7, 2013:

Wendy Potocki (@WPotocki) - horror author, her most recent is the second book in the Adduné series - The House of Cards

Douglas Wickard (@DouglasWickard) - author of the Sami Saxton thriller series 

Joseph Souza (@josephsouza3) - author of The Living Dead Trilogy 

Teri Heyer (@TeriHeyer) - poet and author of contemporary and paranormal romance, her most recent is Bayou Blues and Other Sorrows

Ron Dahle (@chrningcauldron) - author of The Churning Cauldron paramilitary novels

David Perlmutter (@davepperlmutter) - author of true story Wrong Place, Wrong Time