Category: mystery

Not Writing About COVID-19

Photo of Sadie Cat looking peeved
~ Anne Louise Bannon ~ 11 Comments

It’s raining here in sunny Southern California. It started yesterday and my weather app (1Weather) says it’s going to be raining for the rest of the week. We’ll get the weekend off, then by the time you’re reading this (since I am trying to get this written *before* it’s due), it will possibly be raining again.

TobyWan

The cats are not happy. The dog isn’t, either, since he does have to go out in the wet to do his business. However, when not doing his business, TobyWan prefers to stay inside. It’s the cats who are suffering the most from this cruelest of developments.

My husband is mostly staying inside, thanks to the lockdown, house arrest, stay at home order. He is also trying to find the perfect way to say lockdown, house arrest, stay at home order. Stay at home order is too long. We are not in prison, nor are we under arrest, so neither lockdown or house arrest apply. He’s not usually that fussy about precise language, although I am, so this is an interesting turn of events. I’m good with lockdown in the metaphorical sense since we can still go on walks and go grocery shopping.

Xannikins demonstrating how she got her name. Not a lucky shot, she’s sleeping like this.

Back to the cats. As I explained in my debut post on this site, we have three. Sadie Cat, the old lady of nine years (at the top of the post), and the much younger, though no longer kittens, Xanax and Benzedrine. They all came into our house almost two years ago after our cat, Dorothy Parker died of old age. Parker, who was all too aptly named, would have no other cats before her. So, my husband insisted that when it came time to find her successor, we get a pair of bonded kittens. Unfortunately, when we went to the shelter, I walked past a cage and saw this large, lovely cat giving me the look that could turn you to stone, and remarked, “Oh, look! There’s Medusa.”

Well, if you name a cat in the shelter, you know you’re going home with it. And, as it turned out, Medusa actually had a name already – Sadie. But we sometimes call her Medusa. Or Psycho Sadie, since she will pick fights with the other cats and is trying to kill the dog.

The Benzomatic looking annoyed at the rain

Strangely enough, although Sadie prefers being outside the most, she seems less annoyed about the rain than the other two. Benzi (aka the Purr Bot for her trilling purr) has been on my desk getting in the way multiple times today and given me the glare. Xannie (also in the guise of the mild-mannered Puff) has the stronger personality and makes a point of getting in our faces when she wants something. She, however, is just hanging around the back door, then glaring at us when we open it and she does not want to go out.

By the way, we do live on a relatively quiet street and the cats are indoor/outdoor to keep the vermin away. It’s the most natural form of pest control and it really works.

Except when it’s raining and they can’t go outside.

The Angst That Doesn’t Go On The Page by Paty Jager

~ patyjag ~ 4 Comments

Many literary prose are filled with angst and trepidation. I wonder if literary writers feel the same angst and trepidation that genre writers do?

This is a confession of sorts. Before I started writing mystery, I just researched either history, settings, occupations or whatever I needed to make the story real and conjured up characters that I liked and hoped readers liked. Those were my romance books.

Then I wrote an action adventure trilogy. I researched and read and studied. I came up with a high IQ character and hoped I could pull her off. I set books in areas I had never been, but I found people who had or lived there. I dug deep to make sure I had all the knowledge I felt I needed to write those books. When the first one released, I knew it was going to flop. How could I write about an anthropologist with a genius level IQ and make people believe her?

But I did! Readers loved Isabella Mumphrey. The first book won an award!

After all the angst and worry, I decided to try my hand at the genre I really wanted to write– mystery. And what did I do? I made my character half Native American. Mainly because I feel it is a culture that gets shoved under the rug and partly because I love research and learning new things. I thought why not learn about the culture along with my character.

But I worried I couldn’t pull her off. That someone would tell me I didn’t have the right to write such a character or I wasn’t portraying her correctly. However at book 14 in my Shandra Higheagle Mystery series, I have people who love the information on the culture that I include in the books. This makes me happy that I am informing my readers about a culture they may not know about in an entertaining way.

Then I start writing another book and I worry this one won’t be as good as the last. Or I feel it’s lagging, not enough twists, or not enough culture… There is always something I feel I didn’t flush out enough.

This goes on daily as I write. My books go through critique partners, beta readers, a line editor, a sensitivity reader, a proof reader and my final arc readers before it gets to the public. And I still worry that something was missed.

It isn’t until my ARC readers send me the links to their reviews that I know if my book was mediocre or they enjoyed it. I”m happy to say the newest release has been a joy to get reviews and emails about. The subject lines have been: I loved it! You did it again!

These are worth all the worrying, angst, and beating myself up over the characters and plot.

Here is Abstract Casualty

Book 14 in the Shandra Higheagle Mystery series

Hawaiian adventure, Deceit, Murder

Shandra Higheagle is asked to juror an art exhibition on the island of Kauai, Hawaii.

After an altercation at the exhibition, the chairwoman of the event, Shandra’s friend, arrives home with torn clothes, scratches, and stating she tried to save an angry artist who fell over a cliff. Shandra and Ryan begin piecing together information to figure out if the friend did try to save the artist or helped him over the edge.

During the investigation, Shandra comes across a person who reminds her of an unhealthy time in her past. Knowing this man and the one from her past, she is determined to find his connection to the dead artist.  When her grandmother doesn’t come to her in dreams, Shandra wonders if her past is blinding her from the truth.

https://books2read.com/u/4XXLke

Dr. Missye K. Clarke, Writing Life Coach @ Your Service!

~ Missye K. Clarke ~ 2 Comments

Ordinarily this blog offers tips, pointers, secrets of the writing life you can implement in your own mysteries and shorts. But life’s kickin’ my keister recovering from a rotten cold and two vicious sickle cell crises in as many months, so let’s have a little fun. For this post, I’ve on my what-happens-when-life-demands-my-writing-time Life Coach cap for insight, wisdom, and experiences dealing with the not-so-nice parts of your writing life. I’m positive these brave ladies who’ve asked theses questions, you, Everyday Susan and Typical Jo, have asked yourselves this, too.

So let’s get to it!

Q: Dr. Missye, what’s some good writing advice you can offer? I’m a mom to two under eighteen, working full time, keep house, and have a husband. Where do I find writing time?

Did I mention my kids are Gen Z, I’m a Gen X’er, and my husband’s a front-end millennial? HELP!!!

Thanks,
“Eugenie“

A: Great question, Eugenie! I’ll do my best to give a satisfactory answer–but at the end of the day, you have to go with what’s best for you in your situation.

Firstly, being pulled in multiple directions is awful, isn’t it? Nobody understands. We’re stuck between generations. Or you’re feeling it more than the others do. Whichever the case . . . just . . . breathe. In. Out. Repeat. Remind yourself as you deep breathe: This, too, shall pass. This, too, shall pass.

You’re good? Talked all down? Okay.

So. You’ve babies under eighteen . . . aawww. Cherish them now; they’ll be grown and gone before you know it. This’ll be antipoden in what you want to hear, but your writing life may need to hit pause as you raise your kidlets. Too many authors have neglected their kids for their imaginary worlds, justifying this with the millions they’ll make to make up for it. Wrong. They want YOU, not possessions (yeah, I’ll say it: “Cat’s in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin, anyone?), so be there for them. If you must write, do so when they’re asleep, while they’re in school, or involved with other peripherals.

In working full-time while shoehorned in with caregiving aging or ailing family members and meeting your own nuclear nest’s needs, tight time organization is essential. During obligation breaks, maybe jot lines for your story, post a quick character sketch, a scene outline, or untangle a plot kink via a story device app. Or unwind with an audiobook. Find snatches of time you can to put into write, draft, outline, hell, even sleep. Some “you” time is essential and not at all wasted during this hectic activity, too. You’ll go bats if you don’t.

Note this, if nothing else: Please don’t compare your writing like and time with anyone else’s. You’ll only discourage yourself, and to be honest, why waste that time and energy you can’t get back? This is your path. Walk it as you do. And in perspective, if providing for your family is more important than creating and crafting for the time being, so be it. Your situation isn’t anyone else’s, and you don’t know the real goings-on of that life you think is so put together, either. In other words, as your kids’ gen says–much like ours did–“Eyes on your own paper!” And just do you.

If the writing bug bites that badly, delegate house chores to hubby or area kids needing a fast buck. Have the kids clean their own room(s) and other rooms if they’re big and old enough, or they can regularly clean a room you always do. Oh, and forget perfect; the job’s done, and it’ll get dirty again regardless. But you got some writing in, and practice makes perfect, which applies to chores, too. Have a child or hubby giving you consternations–that’s also known as pitching fits for those of you in #RioLinda 😎–? That’s real easy. Make them Bed-Making Captain! Or the CDVO–Chief Dusting and Vacuuming Officer! If you give an important title with the chore, they might not complain about having to do it. Or trade–they do the work, you write, and you make their meal favorites when the chores are done. I’d’ve suggested not make a meal at all to the selfish family members, but . . . uh, well . . . calls to Children’s Services aren’t invited to be part of your life, or of this post, and nobody wants that 😏.

We all get the same 24 hours in a day. Some can get more done in that day than others. If you’re not one of them, that’s fine. Where’s it written you have to do everything in this life you wanted to do? Some things are worth leaving aside for the joy in others–and the best thing, in my life coach opinion, is raise your kiddies, be their mommy, and love every minute of their young lives. The writing will be there when they’re grown, gone, and you’ve got time to make their empty bedroom into your personal writing studio. #360Win Hope this helps. And the very best of luck to you!

Q:  Hi, Dr. Missye . . . I sure hope you can help me.

I’m involved with a man I met online. “Rod” is in Utah, I’m in Maine, and we’ve been talking regularly for almost eighteen months. We both want to make it work, but for one sticking point–he disregards my writing (I write poetry and am working on a memoir) as a flight of fancy and thinks it’s pointless. Any advice?

“Constance“

A: Hi, Constance (oooh, I love you name!)! Thank you so much for your question, it’s awesome! :).

Hmmm . . . well, there’s two answers for this: the starlight and moonbeams answer, or the tough-love, OG NYC gal, answer. Which do you want?

Oh, good, the tough-love answer. The starlight and moonbeams answer–yeah . . . I got nothin’.

Kidding!

This is a two-part question, so I’ll take the obvious one first. If you and Rod really want this to work, possibly you can meet halfway between your home states and make a weekend of some touristy spots in Indianapolis (been there; lovely city, that!), Nashville (for me, it’s meh, but you might dig better’n I do.), or go big and bold in New Orleans. The idea is to find if you honestly have chemistry more than just talking online? You have to be in one another’s spatial space to know if there’s electricity between you two in real time (Yeah, #RioLinda, lookin’ at you–that’s IRT spelled out!). If he balks or bails, give him time to explain why you felt like a big box of swampy skunk-ass getting stood up–or have the pleasure of telling him off before you declare you’re never bothering with him again–but in your gut, you’ll have your answer.

Second part: when you say he disregards your writing, you weren’t specific. He disregards it how? Does he call it degrading names (“silly,” “waste of time”)? Is he dismissive (“Who’s gonna buy it?” “Are you any good?” “Aren’t you a little old to play pretend?”)? A deeper question–why do you let him do this to what you hold dear? What’s been your response? Have you defended it? Have you asked him to not invade that boundary? If he’s this flippant about your creative choices, it’s time to play Pick A Door. You can choose Door, Stage Left by never mentioning this to him again–on this and other issues, you don’t have to always see the same POV–but he doesn’t get to disrespect you verbally, permitted his opinion notwithstanding. If he cares for you as he says he does, he’ll choose wiser words in the future, Men, I’ve found, either grunt through the English language while gnawing the last of a meat bone’s marrow, or they’re superfluously verbose in speech–cape, sword and all–much more than women are.

BUT . . .!

If he’s really been nasty in his views about your writing life and creativity, I’d ask why he believes this the case, and ask why does he need to be so cruel expressing himself this way. While sharing, while you respect his having that stance, it hurts you he does hold it. You mentioned this has been a sticking point between you two, so I’d imagine y’all have been talking about it. Maybe he’s insecure how far you’ve gotten. Maybe he’s threatened by what you can do what he’s strove to do and couldn’t achieve. Maybe he genuinely believes you’re not good enough, but can’t bring himself to say it. Whichever the case, it’s on you to protect your creativity. You do this by a): that’s a boundary he never crosses if you and he plan to make this work; or b): end the relationship if he can’t respect your stance or refuses to quit violating that boundary. You respect his having those views, asinine as they may be, and likely told him so. If he claims to hold deep feelings for you, he’ll rethink his position with care and wisdom, keep his views to himself, or work on himself to abandon them altogether. You deserve peace of mind, body, soul, and spirit. Get that however you can. If he’s incapable of holding up this side of the relationship, things between you and he might’ve run its course.

Thank you for letting me share this angle of the writing life with you. Everything touches everything else. When you’re emotionally instigated, it’ll resonate in your writing world in the most profound ways.

Namaste.

The Writer during a Pandemic by Susan Oleksiw

~ susanoleksiw ~ 6 Comments

Recently a number of writers chattered on line about writing a story during the coronavirus pandemic. I haven’t considered it yet, but I have noticed the details that signal the changes to my community, and these would probably appear in anything I wrote.

At first I thought the directions to pull back, self-isolate, etc., would lead to obvious changes, that the world would look startlingly different. But that hasn’t been the case. The world closed in gradually. Stay six-feet away from people; close the schools and study on line; work from home if you can. That all made sense. But the changes were more subtle.

Far fewer cars pass our house, and when I walk in the morning I’m struck by how many cars sit in driveways. They were usually gone by eight, and almost always by nine. Now they’re packed in. The streets are nearly empty, and on the rare day when cars are parked on a side street, I know that someone is ignoring the rules to stay inside and has gone visiting.

Most people I encounter seem to be following the rules; a few are nonchalant, letting masks fall, rubbing their eyes; others are defiant or oblivious. In a doctor’s office, twelve patients sat next to each other because there weren’t enough chairs to sit six feet apart. No one smiled, no one read a magazine, and no one escaped into their cell. People sat rigidly in their seats, keeping an eye on each other. No one sneezed, coughed, sniffled.

One morning a young mother parked on a side street, hustled three children out of her car, and followed them down the street to a house around the corner (no parking on that street). A play date? Home schooling?

To counteract boredom, neighbors organized an art project, setting children to decorate their front doors. The goal is to give them something to do, and demonstrate that the community is working together even though they can’t play with their friends at this time. The dark side of this is the closing of playgrounds, where caution tape around swings makes the point in a different way.

Before the virus, late at night the bright lights of an alarm-silent police car or fire engine might wake me up. But not now. Far fewer police cars and fire engines fly past the house day or night. Throughout the city sirens are mostly silent. This may not mean less crime; perhaps the police have been hit by the virus and fewer men and women are available to answer the call. A 911 call that once took ten minutes three months ago might now take forty. And no cars have been on the road around five or six in the morning. Most workers have no early shifts to get to.

Our main street is shuttered, restaurants closed, few of them doing take-out. The train doesn’t rumble by in the distance at expected times; the schedule has been changed to a weekend schedule except for an increase in early morning trains to get workers into the city for the early shift change at medical centers.

The newspaper arrives, the trash is picked up, grocery stores are reasonably well stocked. But in all, the salad bar, fruit bar, and soup bar are closed, and in some stores all vegetables are now wrapped. No one gets to choose how many green beans she wants, or how many shallots. The bakery no longer puts out a tray of pieces of a new cake or cookie for customers to try.

These are the obvious changes. The less obvious are the more dangerous, and those arising from people who flout the governor’s directives are even worse. A husband who has threatened his wife before is confined with her in a small home in the woods. Young children in a family with an older brother who bullies them have no way to escape. A landlord who cares little for his tenants’ problems quotes the president announcing the situation is under control; time to go back to work and pay rent. A small business owner dependent on crafts made and supplied by women working at home takes in inventory–and resells it without keeping records. A woman who turns sixty-five in a month can’t reach any of her utilities to fight a shut-off notice.

These are real situations whose danger is amplified by our unusual circumstances in winter 2020. These are the stories we’ll write some day.

Self-Isolation…or Not?

~ marilynm ~ 10 Comments

Spirit Wind cover

The Governor of California has mandated that all the old folks–60 and above–isolate themselves, meaning stay home. Well, I will stay home most of the time, but I’m never isolated because my house is full of people: my husband, granddaughter, husband, their 3 little girls,  and daughter-in-law who lives next-door and is here everyday off and on. And when my son is off work–he works M-T away–he’s here off and on.

I really need to go shopping, but guess I’m not supposed to. Will see about ordering on line.

Our church has not closed its doors, and I went yesterday and will go again next Sunday. It’s a small church, we had about 25 to 30 in attendance.

My writers group is still meeting once a week and I’m going to attend.

Along with other writing conferences two I planned to attend have been cancelled.

So what will I be doing? Much of the same things I always do, and I will be writing. This virus can’t stop that activity.  Most of the promotion I’ve done lately has been on line, so I’ll still be doing that too.

We can all catch up on our reading too. Isn’t it wonderful that we can transport ourselves all over to new environments without leaving home? The book I’m reading now is set in France.

As for my writing, I’m about 3/4 of the way through my next Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery.  This one is set near where I live, though it is fictionalized, and has some interesting and quirky characters.

So what are you doing during this most unusual time?

Marilyn