As we drove across the San Joaquin Valley watching for high water, my husband asked me about a plot I was developing. He is a great listener, asks the kinds of questions that lead to better plots, and as someone who rammed through most of his nine lives, has a fine background in adventure. So, he was all on board with my plot involving three boys disappearing from school in hopes of floating down a tributary or two to the Mississippi River. Mind you he used up one of his lives on a homemade raft in a river at flood stage when a mite older than the boys in question.

He asked why the boys hadn’t chosen the closest tributary to their hometown. I explained it was across open ground and farmland. A far more romantic river was nearer, treelined, and wound around for miles before merging with the Illinois River, then the Mississippi. Besides, who wouldn’t want to float down Spoon River?

Then he asked what happened to the boys. When I told him. He gave me that look. You know the one, somewhere between are you mad and don’t do that, just don’t.

Holy smokes. I immediately began to retool the plot. I’d like to say this was the first time I’ve received the look, but it isn’t.

As for the rafting part, he is an expert on being swept off a self-made raft, driven under trees, and pounded on the bottom of a river dashing to the ocean.  And if I ever need to know what it is like to leap off a cliff onto a beach, I know where to go.

Writers/readers who read a few drafts…

… and gently steer. Having read my latest book, two readers made the same comment. I responded to each that the paragraph in question foreshadowed the book’s conclusion.

Then, I read it again.

Here it is: “I believe I did. But, Cora, if you know who struck down that poor girl, you must tell me true. You must bear witness to it!”

When what was meant was: “I believe I did. But, Cora, I, too, have heard the Railtown men grousing that Eliza had another suitor. If you suspect a second suitor and know his name, if he exists, you must tell me.”

Notice any difference?

And later, another character says: “Constable McKie is but one who believes you know the killer’s name. And there is one man who will do anything to stop you from revealing it. Now, do you understand?”

Versus: “Constable McKie is but one who believes you think Michael Thomas innocent but are less sure of Eliza’s other suitor. Even if innocent, that man might wish to stop you from discovering his name hoping for a future in this town. And if he is Eliza’s killer? Now, do you understand?”

Thank heavens for readers, right?

Cats

I have a Russian Blue named Blue because it is a lot better than Do-do which was his given name. He is not the sort of cat who sleeps on computers or printers, but he is compulsive about his schedule like the Germans operating the Louisa in The African Queen.

At 9:15 he picks out his canned food. This entails walking up the hall, tail up, to the cupboard, waiting for me to open it, then sticking his head in for a look.

At 2:15 he demands I pick him up, hug and lug him to the sliding door so that he has a better angle from which to watch the birds on the deck. Mostly, he wants hugs.

At 4:15 he demands, in a loud Russian Blue voice, that his soup be stirred. I go to the kitchen and stir his wet food so that it is refreshed, or if he is having one of those gravy sorts of things, add water to make more gravy.

When he seeks my attention, he sits next to me, staring up until I respond. And in so doing provides me a bit of time to refresh my thinking, ponder my next sentence, and edit my next word.

I simply cannot imagine writing without all three. And, so you know, the book above, Unbecoming a Lady, will land in ebook and paperback formats around the Ides of March.

Ever had that oh-no-no-no feeling that you’ve written the same book as another author? Or borrowed a character’s name, or inadvertently duplicated a clever conversation from another book?

This sort of thing has happened to me multiple times. After I wrote my first Summer “Sam” Westin mystery, Endangered, I sent it out to multiple editors at publishing houses. They all told me that it was very good, but way too similar to Nevada Barr’s Track of the Cat.

What? At the time, I’d never heard of Nevada Barr. But I bought the book, and dang, if the editors weren’t right! We both had female park ranger protagonists and cougars in our plots. We even wrote in similar styles! Nevada and I are clearly twins separated at birth.

So, I rewrote Endangered, making my protagonist an internet blogger type working for conservation nonprofits and outdoor adventure organizations. I changed my writing style a bit. And finally sold that book, along with two sequels, Bear Bait and Undercurrents.

Since then, I’ve published three other books in the Sam Westin series, as well as my three Neema the Gorilla Mysteries, and my Run for Your Life trilogy. For years now, Nevada Barr has been one of my favorite authors. Jodi Picoult is another.

A few years ago, when I read Picoult’s latest novel, Leaving Time, I immediately panicked. Like my Run for Your Life trilogy, the protagonist of Leaving Time is an orphaned teenage girl. And elephants romp through both our plots. Yikes! I emailed Jodi Picoult about the similarities. She was kind enough to reply, and said she wasn’t concerned.

As a lesser-known novelist than these two famous authors, I worry that readers may think I’m borrowing from them. But hey, my trilogy came out before Jodi Picoult’s novel, and really, the plots and tone of hers and mine are nothing alike. Then, just as I was working on my book Cascade, which includes a wolverine, Alice Henderson’s first novel, A Solitude of Wolverines, was published. Wildlife researcher, wolverines, winter setting… Not such a similar plot to Cascade (thank goodness), but still a lot of similarities. Her latest book, A Ghost of Caribou, is set in Washington State. Where I live and hike and write. (But not about caribou.)

Am I on the same brainwave frequency as these other gals? It’s downright scary! When I wrote my Neema mysteries, I came up with the name Neema by perusing lists of words in Swahili. I didn’t want to use any name close to Koko, the real signing gorilla that I used for inspiration. Now, just a couple of days ago, I read an article about a gorilla named Neema in the Munich zoo, who (sadly) rejected her baby.

I just can’t get away from all these coincidences. But hey, I just Googled “Neema the gorilla” and guess what? My Neema mysteries top the results list. Either the Munich zookeepers and I are on the same wavelength, or maybe that gorilla is named after my Neema.

So, I guess I’ll stop worrying about all this. At least until the next time it happens.