I’ve admitted it before; I’m a setting thief.  I also steal dialogue, people, and events. But book seven in my PIP Inc. Mysteries series takes my thievery to a whole new level. Last year I participated in something called Santa’s Shelves at the Felton Fire Protection District’s Fire Station. It’s an annual event, with vendors paying a fee to be included in the fundraiser for the district. The fire station is home to 30 volunteer firefighters, full-time EMTs, Captains, and a Fire Chief, serving 6,000 permanent residents and up to 15,000 summer visitors.

At the two-day Christmas faire last year, opportunities for theft of setting, dialogue, characters, and murder, presented themselves and I decided to steal all of them. I’ve done it before. The bank robbery in “Mags and the AARP Gang” took

place where I bank and my admission that I was “casing the place” to understand how to rob it made bank officials exceedingly anxious and got me put under surveillance until the book came out and I presented the manager with a copy so he and the nervous employees would understand that my robbery was pure fiction.

 And then there was the time I witnessed a death at a funeral and turned it into the beginning of

“The Funeral Murder.”  In both of those thefts, I only used the setting, a soulless entity, and created the characters…well mostly. Setting a death at the eighteenth hole pond at the Delavega Golf Course for the  “The Two- Faced Triplex, “

and the murder in the walkway near the post office for  “What Lucy Heard”

was even more settings-driven without any potentially real characters.

I’m still amazed and delighted by how eager to help with ideas and means for murder so many people are when I tell them I’m writing a cozy murder mystery. They find flaws in my reasoning and make corrections which make the killings work so well that I often wonder how many innocent-seeming bystanders fantasize about committing murder and if only the prospect of getting caught keeps them from doing it.

For “A Faire to Remember,”

I went way beyond the norms of privacy by placing many real people in the book. I fictionalized them and made up their backstories, but they will know who they are and recognize their booths and the placement of them if they read the book. I also made the fire captain a serious suspect with motive and means to be a murderer. That last decision made me worry. Was he too real? Was the setting too real?

I wondered if I should make up a town and place it in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Fellow writer Victoria Kazarian does a series set in River Grove but assures me her setting is really Felton, California. Should I borrow her town? I like that my books are set in real places and many readers enjoy recognizing local references so I really didn’t want to do that.

With the book off to the editor, I finally had to confront my dilemma. I called the fire station and explained to the volunteer who answered the phone that I had been a vendor last year when the lights strobed and a towel was put over them… 

“That was me,” he exclaimed. “I’m the one who put the towel over the light fixture. Is my name in the book?”

“You’re referenced but not named,” I offered. “Cool! But if you want to use my name, I’m good with that!”

“I hope your captain will feel the same because he’s a suspect.”

“Send him an email and ask him.”

I did. He wants to read the book when it comes out.

I am in the stumbling stage.  About a month ago I got what I thought was a brilliant idea for a mystery (aren’t they all?) and settled in to let the idea percolate and my unconscious have time to work on it, to throw up opening lines, character samples, little plot points, and the like. I scribbled, tried things out, and waited. A sentence here, a character description there. And still I waited. 

 Ready or not it was time to start writing, so I did. I had the opening scene—it was riveting. Definitely riveting. It took me a while to figure out what would come next (I’m a slow writer), but then the obvious occurred to me and I went at it. Another riveting scene. I was chugging right along when again something occurred to me. I envy other writers who seem to have a narrative and trajectory all worked out before they put fingertips to keys and zip right along. At this point I realized more should come after the opening scene, and before what I thought was the second scene. So back I went. But then that originally second scene had to be revised to fit a changed plot direction, and suddenly the narrator was older but I needed her to be younger, but not too much younger. I was either traveling in a circle or a spiral, neither of which was good. 

When I was much younger my parents took us hiking and camping—anything to get outdoors in the woods and on the mountains. Dad just wanted to be with the trees, so we followed a map for walks through the forests, crossing and recrossing the Appalachian Trail and other lesser-known paths. One I remember vividly promised we’d end at a crystal-clear lake and could run straight into the water for a swim. After the expected period of upping and downing along the trail we came to the end—and looked down at the lake, where a man was climbing out of a canoe along the sandy shore. The only problem was the lake was below us, several thousand feet below us, at the bottom of a sharp tree-covered decline. How we had gotten so lost is beyond me. But Dad was undeterred. He looked at us, at the lake, at the mountainside, and off we went through the brush and over the rocks and down the nearly vertical mountainside, leaving a solid trail behind us. We did arrive at the lake and collapsed on the sandy shore rather than run energetically into the water for a swim. Dad always got to where he wanted to go. I like to think I take after him—at least when I write. At this point in the draft I really don’t know where I’m going even though I think I can see the end over there, somewhere. I know I just have to keep going, so I do.

I call this the stumbling stage. Another example of the stumbling stage is this post. I was scheduled for the fourth Saturday, which was last week. But deep into my life-is-a-haze phase I was surprised to find I’d forgotten the fourth Saturday post. So here it is. 

This doesn’t help me get through the stumbling stage in my manuscript. There’s nothing for it but to keep going, and so far I’ve revised the complications four times, making them worse each time—for me, not the reader, because I haven’t worked out how the narrator is going to solve all these problems. I could do what some writers do and finesse the worst inventions and hope no one notices. (I’m not that lucky—I’d get emails.)  

Redoing the text so far is becoming something I can’t stop doing. It’s all right that the narrator isn’t as upset as she expected to be after a particular incidence. Okay, that’s human. But I can’t leave it there. I have to come up with an explanation—note I don’t say reason, because I’m moving beyond reason. First she thinks it’s deja vue, but that seems too mundane. She starts to wonder if this has something to do with a previous life. But then she remembers she doesn’t believe in reincarnation—too complicated for her, and depressing. Then she lands on the idea of synchronous lives. Huh? How did she come up with that one? I don’t even know what it means, or even if it means something.

This is definitely stumbling and the problem with this stage is that I’ve brought it on myself. I had to complicate things, deepen the motives and actions and people and even the weather. So how do I get out of it? First I write a post one week late. Second, well, I’m not sure about the narrator’s stumbling stage. I could just delete a lot of pages and see where I end up, or what I end up with. That could be interesting. So far the stage seems to be winning.

 The stumbling stage is not to be confused with writer’s block, which is only solved by a crisis calling the writer elsewhere, to avoid which ideas and words begin to flow. Nor is the problem solved by declaring it graphomania or hypergraphia. Either one seems easy to deal with. A glass of wine. A good friend. A sunny day and a porch. That’s such an appealing scene I may give that a try. If nothing else, my narrator may get to take a break too and we’ll work out this problem together.  

 

Hello, Ladies ~

When you write your characters, do you give them physical scars? Or, like me, do you tend to craft them as cute, pretty, and handsome?

While I do give my characters emotional scars, baggage, and quirks, I never considered creating fictional people with human flaws like the scar I now have on my face near my left eye.

During the 4^th of July weekend, I tripped over one of Randy’s tennis shoes and was pitched into the corner of a wall. The fall left me with a cut along the edge of my eye that trails into the lower lid. The incident occurred at our cabin at night, and since it didn’t seem very serious at the time, I decided not to go to urgent care.

It took a few days for the swelling to go down, and when it did, I became the owner of a brand-new scar. The first thing I thought was that my son, Derrick, would have said I was a true pirate now and could wear an eye patch to cover my scar. Aye, matey!

I believe we all take things from our lives and weave them into our stories. For instance, I was young and cute once. And I fell in love (more than once) with a handsome boy. And along the way, I unfortunately came across an ugly villain or two.

With my newly acquired scar, I’m seeing my character development through a different lens. In my next Stoneybrook novel, “Chasing Crazy,” my heroine, Harley Harper, goes missing. While she’s held captive by a villainess who’s slowly losing her grip on reality, Harley suffers events that will leave her with emotional scars. But now I’m considering what physical scars might occur before she rescues herself.

Over the years, I’ve learned to unpack baggage and leave behind what no longer serves me well. Still, I’m all too familiar with emotional scars and the damage carrying baggage can cause, so at first, I was reluctant to add them to Harley’s story. One thing I’ve learned, though, is that my characters tend to take my ideas and run with them. I guess I’ll just have to trust Harley and see how she writes her story!

In my new mystery series set in Mesa, Arizona, I’m in the early stages of creating my young heroine, Sapphire Stone. In “Murder on Superstition Mountain,” Sapphire is a private investigator who also works for an autistic pot store owner to make ends meet. My pirate scar is encouraging me to depict Sapphire as a tomboy, reckless in her pursuit of answers and reluctant to be a girly girl. Think of the scars she might encounter while searching for clues on Superstition Mountain or warding off a sky-high thief trying to rob the pot store.

Back when I had time to read, I loved Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series. It was always a treat to see what mess Stephanie might find herself in. What shenanigans her Grandma Mazur was up to! And, of course, what outrageous outfit Lula would be wearing. I also loved the Alphabet series by Sue Grafton featuring Kinsey Millhone. Kinsey’s one-woman approach to solving a mystery was inspiring. And who could forget that she cut her hair with toenail scissors or her all-purpose little black dress. I’m excited to see what quirks and extra fun eccentricities I can create for Sapphire and her supporting cast.

My most exciting project, though, is the current book I’m writing as DJ Henson to honor my son, Derrick. “Midnight Sail” is a middle-grade novel about three kids who start out looking for treasure on a mysterious island located on the southern Oregon Coast and end up sailing the Pacific Ocean on a 1757 pirate ship. I have decided I want the trio, Cyrus, Jaxyn, and Alex, to share some type of scar from their experience.

One idea that would be perfect for “Midnight Sail” is an octopus bite on their hands from holding a baby octopus. My husband, Randy, suffered a bite like this and has a unique scar on his hand between his thumb and forefinger. This is the first book in the Cyrus Cormack Adventure Series that I have planned for these three friends. My thought was to have them incur a mark of some kind to confirm the experience they survived was real. I have a few ideas and can’t wait to see which one works best for each book.

So, I can’t wait to sail away with my new pirate tattoo on a wave of imagination, creating stories with interesting characters … scars, baggage and all … for as long as I can!

Happy Writing ~ Kimila

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m not sure if I love to write, or if I love to have written. There are aspects to both that I love. I really love to brainstorm a story. (It’s like a new romance.) I’m very attracted to my idea and can’t wait to learn more about it. (Sort of like the first attraction to someone new.) Then I start to write and it’s so fun to see it start to come together. (Just like beginning to date and you can’t wait to spend time with the new person.) Then I’m in the middle of it and don’t think it will ever come together. (You’ve been dating for a while and wonder if this will last or if you should move on.) Then I get to the end, and I’m always surprised that it’s an actual story instead of the mess that has been living in my head for the last few months. (If you’re lucky the relationship is a good one and will last.)

It has been a long time since I’ve experienced a new love, but I do love a good romance and writing a book is sort of the same, don’t you think?

It takes me several months to write a book. I just finished my 6^th book, the 4^th in my Hood River Valley Series. This book was difficult. I had two stories and had to find a way to bring them together by the end of the book. I hope I did it justice. The title is Her Silent Tears and I’m hoping it will be out mid-October.

This book is about a woman detective who is trying to work under an acting sheriff who makes her life miserable. When a van full of young women who are being trafficked are in a wreck, and the man who abducted them is killed, his driver and one of the girls goes missing. Detective Liz Ellisen must find the driver and the young woman before she is sold into another country. And she has to figure out who in the small town of Hood River is buying and trafficking women. Several prominent people in the town could be part of the trafficking ring. While Liz tries to find out who is involved, a judge’s wife is murdered, an Oregon Senator is shot, her partner is shot, and someone is coming after her.

I spent the last two days by myself at the beach going through every chapter and writing down the POV character and a couple of sentences noting the most important things going on. It was a lot of work, but I’m proud of myself for doing it. It showed me that the story does work, it needs lots of editing, but there is something there to work with.

Tomorrow, while I wait for the laundry to get clean so I can head home, I hope to begin the arduous job of editing this book. I’m really looking forward to it. Editing is my favorite part of writing. (Is that like trying to work out the kinks in a relationship?) When I feel it is as good as I can get it, my first readers will get a copy.

While I wait for them to read the book, I should be writing the next one. Instead, I wring my hands and worry that they won’t like it. When they finish, I make the changes I need to, then go through it a zillion more times before it finally goes to my editors.

It’s a long, tough process. Some days I feel like my brain will explode. Other days I feel like there is nothing up there but sand. But as soon as it’s published, I’m doing it again. I can’t imagine not writing. Even if I never published anything, I’d still write. It’s such an integral part of me.

But I do finally leave the book and move on. Now I’m excited about a Christmas Mystery I’ve already started. It came to me almost fully realized. I just have to figure out how to write it down. I think it will be a fun book to write. I hope it will work out well and we will not have a bad break up. (ie. A book that I never finish.)

And after that is the next Hood River Valley Mystery/Thriller. I thought I knew what the premise was of the next book. But as it turns out, the muse had it’s own idea, and now I’m thinking about something totally different. Or will I try both story lines and have to find a way to tie them together like I did in Book 4? We’ll see what happens. The thing I do know is that my love story of writing will go on as long as I do. Maybe longer.