Tag: #amwriting

Guest Blogger ~ Lois Winston

~ patyjag ~ 14 Comments

Don’t Measure Yourself Against Another Writer’s Yardstick

By Lois Winston

My critique partner thinks I’m an organized person. When she told me this, I laughed. Like Santa, I make lists and check them, not twice, but multiple times. For instance, I have a list on my phone of items I need to pack for trips, but every time I go away, I invariably wind up forgetting to pack at least one of those essentials and need to find the nearest Target.

I walk into my office to do something, get distracted, and forget to do what I came in to do. Is it age-related? Possibly. I’m the first to admit I’m not as young as I used to be. But if I’m honest with myself, this isn’t a recent development. It’s occurred for as long as I can remember, going all the way back to my childhood. A touch of ADHD? Perhaps. Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination and so much going on in my brain that the less important things get pushed to the side.

Nowhere is this more evident than in my writing. I often can’t remember the names of all the characters in my books. Or the titles. However, I’ve been writing for more than thirty years, and most days, I can’t remember what I ate for dinner last night. So how can I be expected to remember all those characters’ names from books written decades ago? Then again, twenty-four novels, five novellas, and several short stories in three+ decades isn’t that much. It’s not like I’m Nora Roberts or James Patterson, knocking out three, four, five or more books a year. (I wonder if they remember all their characters and titles.)

When it comes to sitting down to write, I’m a pantser, not a plotter. Plotters are far more organized, but the few times I’ve tried plotting a book, I became bored with it, deleted the outline, and started over with either the barest bones germ of an idea or maybe only an interesting opening sentence. Rarely more than that. Pantsing is what I do. Trying to write like someone else is counterproductive to achieving an end result that I will be proud to release into the world. Plain and simple: Plotting just doesn’t work for me.

Like readers of mysteries, I want to be surprised. If I already know the who, what, where, when, and why of a story before I write the first sentence, I’ve eliminated the surprise. Writing becomes drudgery, and I know I’ll be letting my readers down. Readers are savvy. They can tell when an author is phoning it in, and when that happens, they toss the book aside.

This is not to say that pantsers are better writers than plotters. They’ve simply found a different path to The End. One that works for them. I wish I could be a happy plotter. Plotters probably don’t write themselves into corners as often as this pantser does. However, I’ve learned plotting is not an option for me. I’m unhappy when I plot, and it shows in my writing. I imagine a diehard plotter would be equally unhappy if forced to sit down and start writing without a clue.

In life, there’s never one right way that works for everyone. The same is true for writers. You can’t measure yourself against another writer’s yardstick. No two brains work the same way. We all learn differently. We each bring unique experiences and knowledge to our writing. Every writer takes a personal path to creating a novel. We all need to find the path that works best for us.

We all choose paths as we go through life. Whether you’re a reader or a writer, have you found the paths that works best for you? Post a comment for the chance to win a promo code for a free audiobook download of any available Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery or Empty Nest Mystery.

Embroidered Lies and Alibis

An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 15

A Stitch in Time Could Save a Life…

When Anastasia’s mother Flora is offered a free spa vacation from Jeremy Dugan, a man connected to her distant past, Anastasia and husband Zack suspect ulterior motives. After all, too-good-to-be-true often spells trouble. Their suspicions are confirmed when the FBI swoops in to apprehend Dugan. However, Dugan isn’t who he claimed to be, and his arrest raises more questions than answers.

The Feds link Dugan to a string of cons targeting elderly single women across the country, but his seemingly airtight alibi leaves investigators stumped. Then, shortly after his release on bail, he’s kidnapped. A certain segment of New Jersey’s population is known for delivering deadly messages, and the FBI believes Dugan received one of them.

Meanwhile, bodies begin showing up in the newly created public garden across the street from Anastasia and Zack’s home. With two baffling crimes, no clear suspects, scant evidence, and every possible motive unraveling, both the FBI and local law enforcement are once again picking Anastasia’s brain. This time, though, her involvement is far from reluctant. Will she stitch together enough clues before she or someone she loves becomes the killer’s next victim?

Craft project included.

Find Buy Links here.

USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

Having Too Much Fun!

~ patyjag ~ 8 Comments

I just spent a week on the Oregon Coast with a granddaughter. She is the one most like me. Whenever we’re together we have lots of laughs and fun conversations.

Nearly every day as we were out walking, either on the beach, around town, or through an old growth cedar walk, we would have different versions of things.

On the beach, she saw a man digging with shovel at the base of the grass embankment. She said, “Look he’s digging for gold.” I said, “He could be preparing a hole to bury someone. But in the daylight that’s kind of risky.” My granddaughter looked at me and said, “Why would it be risky?” “Because it’s daylight and someone could mention they saw him digging.” She shook her head and said, “It’s gold.”

As we were walking through four foot high skunk cabbage, old growth cedar trees, bushes, and water on a wood walkway, we noticed there were some houses not too far away and then a trail leading off through the marsh toward the houses. My granddaughter said, “Looks like some people like to go exploring off the walkway.” “I said, “No that’s the trail of the serial killer who lives in one of those houses and comes here to find a victim.” She stopped stared at me, then the trails and said, “Thanks. Now I’m not going to be able to enjoy it.” When we reached the end where this hundred year old, deformed and huge tree was, there was a picnic table and a bench. A man in his thirties sat on the bench wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. We walked by him and my granddaughter whispered, “There’s the serial killer.” I nodded and said, “He’s waiting for an unsuspecting woman who is alone.”

Walking around the small beach town, we were admiring the kept up yard and looking at the cute little houses. We passed a house that had a couple of boards on the windows and looked uninhabited. My granddaughter remarked how it was out of place among the other well kept houses. I said, “There’s probably a body in there and whoever put the body in there didn’t want it to become known, so they don’t live there and won’t sell it. Just let it decay like the corpse inside.”

My granddaughter stopped, put her hands on her hips and said, “Grams, you are always thinking about murder.” I replied, “That is what I write. I’m always working out ways a body can be killed or how someone might try to cover it up for my books.”

“Doesn’t that depress you?” she asked.

“Nope. I find it fascinating and exhilarating to come up with something that readers may not have read before.”

And that is how my brain is working 75% of the time. Even on vacation.

This month I’m celebrating my 20th year as a published author. Come by my Author Paty Jager Facebook page and leave a comment to win prizes.

Too Much Imagination?

~ patyjag ~ 4 Comments

Writing has always been therapy for me. A way to put my vivid imagination to good use instead of making me fearful and worried.

Early in my married years, when my hubby was a truck driver, my imagination would play scenarios in my head about things that happened to him while he was driving. Or if my parents were coming to visit and they were late, my mind would jump to all the tragic things that could have happened.

Once I started writing, sitting down nearly every day and putting my imagination to work writing stories, I rarely envision harm coming to people I know anymore.

What does happen is that my mind is constantly finding ways to bump off people in my mystery books. Ways that are unusual or that are everyday things that can become deadly. I haven’t asked other murder mystery writers if they do the same thing. I need to do that the next time I’m at a conference.

My latest was an innocent trip to the local theater group to watch the play “Oklahoma!” I had been toying with going, and then a friend said the Elgin Opera House put on the best plays, that most of the actors were actually people wanting to get into the field, and used the Opera House as a way to pad their résumés.

So I called my daughter, who lives halfway between the Opera House and me, to ask if she wanted to go with me. She said yes and I purchased the tickets online.

I have driven by the Opera House a hundred or more times, but I’ve never been inside the historical building built in 1912. We parked and entered the building, purchasing water and popcorn before finding our seats in the balcony section. I was impressed by the tin ceiling, the sloped seating, and the excellent sound. Very historical looking. The chairs were a bit hard, even though they were padded. I’m pretty sure it was the old wood shaving stuffing that had been packed down over decades of use!

We were a little bit early and entered the balcony from the top, found our seats, and took in the surroundings. After visiting and talking about the stage and my daughter having been in the building before, when her daughter was in a play, we decided to use the restroom before the play started. I stayed seated as my daughter went to use the facilities. The balcony didn’t have any lights on. The light came from down below on the stage. My daughter doesn’t like heights,. She came back from the restroom and said she didn’t like walking along the edge of the balcony to go to the door leading down to the restrooms.

I laughed at her and said, at least it wasn’t as high as the Church tower we’d climbed up to in Holland. Then I went down to walk along the balcony railing. It came to my knees, and the walking area between the railing and the front row seats was maybe 24 inches. I stopped to look down at the seating below and felt a little dizzy from the darkness above, the light below, and the sense that I was tipping toward the railing.

I continued on and then as I came back, the idea hit me that having a character be at the opera house for a play and seeing a person fall from the balcony would make a good start to a murder mystery. And as I sat in the balcony watching the play, more and more scenes flashed through my mind.

At the end of the play, when the spectators in the balcony had left, I sat in the front row and envisioned how someone could orchestrate an accidental fall.

So stay tuned for book three in the Cuddle Farm Mysteries. The death at the beginning of the book may or may not have been an accident! 😉

I’m having a 20th-anniversary bash to mark 20 years of being a published author. Follow my Facebook page or sign up for my newsletter to be part of the celebration and win prizes the whole month of May. I’m giving away a prize every day on my Facebook Page and giving my newsletter subscribers a Bingo game to play for a chance to win prizes.

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In Search of a Writing Routine

~ Margaret Lucke ~ 4 Comments
Banner showing author Margaret Lucke and some of her books

By Margaret Lucke

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.” — E. B. White

The other day a nonwriter friend asked me if I write every day. With regret and some embarrassment I had to admit that despite my desires and good intentions, days (okay, weeks) often slip by without my having written a word. I mean, sure, I jot down grocery lists and dash off responses to emails, but that’s not my friend meant. She was referring to making progress on my current novel.

It’s not hard to come up with reasons not to write. Important and meaningful reasons. Errands need to be run, laundry must be done, good friends deserve a visit, the genius level on the New York Times Spelling Bee game insists on being achieved. But something feels off when I reach bedtime and realize that my protagonist has done nothing all day except sit there and twiddle her thumbs

I do believe in the value of writing routines. I’m convinced that having a good routine ensures a writer will be more productive, more focused, more intelligent, more witty and clever, more successful …

If only I could come up with one.

It’s not that I haven’t tried. In fact I’ve made quite a study of what works for others in the hope that I’d find a routine suited to my habits and temperament. What I’ve discovered is that routines are as varied as writers themselves, though they tend to fall into several categories.

>> The up-before-dawn writer

“Do they know I get up at five o’clock every morning to write 1,000 words before breakfast?” — Margaret Meade

These are the people who set the alarm for 4 or 5 a.m., get up and write for two or three hours, and then go off to report to their day jobs or whatever else places demands on their time. Anthony Trollope, who worked as a civil servant, wrote 46 novels this way. I have several friends who swear by this method and write fine books in the tender hours before sunrise.

>> The grab-bits-and-pieces-of-time writer

“The way you define yourself as a writer is that you write every time you have a free minute. If you didn’t behave that way you would never do anything.” — John Irving

Another friend, before she retired, spent all of her lunch hours at work in the parking lot, where she would sit in her car and write. Mystery writer and attorney Michael Gilbert wrote 23 novels on the train as he commuted from his home in Kent to his law firm’s London office. William Carlos Williams, a physician, scribbled stories and poems on prescription pads in between patients. I admire the way writers who do this can shift gears so quickly from other activities and home in on their writing.

>> The quota-system writer

“All through my career I’ve written 1,000 words a day — even if I’ve got a hangover.” — J.G. Ballard

These are the writers who set a daily goal and refuse to leave their desk until it is accomplished. The goal might be to write for a set number of hours or to achieve a specific page count or word count. This was the principal behind the sadly demised Nanowrimo, or National Novel Writing Month, which challenged writers each year in November to a produce a novel of at least 50,000 words. Producing 1,667 words a day would get you there. Note that the folks behind Nanowrimo didn’t insist that the novel be any good.

>> The ritual writer

“I had a ritual once of lighting a candle and writing by its light and blowing it out when I was done for the night.” — Jack Kerouac

Writers are not necessarily superstitious, but we know that sometimes we must do certain things to draw the muse to our side and appease her when she’s present. This can lead to some peculiar writing routines. Victor Hugo would shed his clothes and instruct his valet to hide them; being nude, he couldn’t leave the house so he might as well write. Charles Dickens carefully arranged certain items on his desk to foster his creativity, among them a vase of fresh flowers and a bronze statuette of dueling toads. Natalie Goldberg often wrote with a cigarette in her mouth; she usually didn’t smoke it but used it as “a prop to help me dream into another world.”

I’ve dabbled in variations from each of these categories, but I haven’t found the perfect routine for me. How about you? What works? I’m open to your suggestions.

Self-Discipline at 5 in the Morning

~ Margaret Lucke ~ 3 Comments

By Margaret Lucke

How do you define self-discipline? To me, it’s the quality that enables you to force yourself to do something you know is good for you when you’d rather do something else.

It’s focusing on business rather than pleasure.

It’s favoring long-term goals (lose five pounds, meet the deadline) over short-term benefits (eat the chocolate, spend the gorgeous afternoon taking a walk).

It’s getting up way too early in the morning, when any normal person would still be tucked up comfortably in bed.

But not everyone agrees with me.

Quite a few years ago, as an aspiring mystery novelist, I attended the late, great Cabrillo Suspense Writers Conference, a wonderful event held annually for a decade at a rustic lodge in the Santa Cruz Mountains. One day I had a conversation over coffee with a fellow writer. At that time he had published two well-received mystery novels, but he was still working long hours at his day job at a local college. Finding time to write was a challenge for me, and I asked him how he managed to do that while dealing all of the other demands in his life.

“It’s simple,” he explained. “Every morning, seven days a week, I get up at 5 o’clock and sit down at his desk to write.”

Seriously? There’s a 5 o’clock in the morning? I thought 5 o’clock automatically meant late afternoon.

I am not a morning person. I’m fine with being awake when it’s dark outside, but only if I’ve approached it from the other end, the gradual fading of daylight into night. But wake up while it’s still dark? Impossible. Until daylight touches my bedroom window, my eyes refuse to open and my brain is on strike. I can’t find the floor at 5 a.m. unless I fall out of bed. There’s no way I can write a coherent sentence.

But I have a high regard for writers, and I’ve known several, who regularly rise before dawn to produce pages. Good pages too, not the gibberish I’d come up with.

I said as much to my coffee companion: “You know, I really admire your self-discipline.”

His response surprised me. “Oh, that’s not self-discipline.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “You just said you make yourself get up every morning when you want to be sleeping and force yourself to sit and write.”

“That’s right.”

“How is that not self-discipline? It sounds like the perfect example to me.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s not self-discipline because I don’t enjoy it.”

What? To me, if he didn’t enjoy it, then his peculiar (to me) habit fit the definition even more. Obviously we had different takes on what self-discipline means. I prodded, but I couldn’t get him to explain his concept any further.

Self-discipline or not, whatever he was doing worked. He went on to considerable success and acclaim as a mystery writer, with almost three dozen novels to his credit and several awards on his shelf. My track record, on the other hand, is considerably shorter.

Maybe I should try setting my alarm clock just a little bit earlier.