Boston – Ladies of Mystery

I belong to a chat list of people in my general geographical area, one or two counties north of Boston mostly along the water. Here we post requests for a carpenter or, right now, a snow shoveler. Members report on the remodeled bath and how well the job was done, or not done.

One man organized a picnic for anyone who wanted to come, and within days he had offers of side dishes, the loan of a grill, a small tent in case it rained while he was flipping burgers, a few tables and chairs, and a volunteer to track who was doing or bringing what. There are long discussions on what’s happening that has brought a helicopter and two police cars, and whether or not the city can or should do something about the homeless woman who has set up shop on a certain corner.

This is a community within a community, an ongoing exchange of good will, information, moral support, and occasionally humor. Lots of people are looking for small jobs, the kind that don’t attract construction companies. These are people willing to do just about any little chore—watch your elderly mother one afternoon a week, or your two pre-school children three days a week, or water your plants while you’re on vacation, or fix the front steps, or cut down a small tree that’s dying. There’s always someone who’ll help install a smoke detector, explain the restrictions on B&Bs in a specific town, or suggest a junk removal guy who is reasonable, quick, and neat. Small jobs but necessary ones.

I’ve had several jobs taken care of through this site, and occasionally I recognize another user, or another user recognizes me. The site is more efficient than asking at the local hardware store, another place I’ve come to know and love since my husband died. It’s also more informative. In almost any instance a person seeking a worker for anything will get two or three suggestions, with affirmations (or not) by other readers.

The site is remarkably accurate as to skill, reliability, and pricing, perhaps because a failure in any one of these areas will lead to a disappointing post, at best, and complaints from others and a decline in business.

For a long time I thought of this as a useful site, but now I read the offers and requests, including occasionally my own, and I feel like I’m reading a novel or a short story as people report on life changes requiring a new home for a pet or a change in a second bedroom. This change in perspective is perhaps the result of how I see the world, or at least my corner of it.

When I hear someone talking about an incident, or see a group of people engaged in something, within seconds my brain has constructed a narrative, just like what I did in the first paragraphs above. You read very few facts; instead you got a feel for how a group of people relate to each other, with holes where paranoia, suspicion, ill will could fold away from view.

When you’re a writer, wherever you look you find a story.

by Janis Patterson

This is going to be short, because – quite frankly – I’m tired. I was away from home more than half of September. A wedding in Boston; a wedding in Alabama; a family reunion in East Texas; the Novelists, Inc. conference in Florida. Whew! My luggage has never been fully unpacked this entire month and our beloved furbabies – two neurotic cats, one prissy little dog – probably thought we had abandoned them to the boarding kennel. They’re home now, and hopefully they’ll forgive us before long.

We got in late last night and this morning I went to pick up the furbabies. Had to do two trips – three carry cages in the car is just too much; besides, I don’t really like the odds of being outnumbered three to one. Got them all home, plugged in the cat pheromone tranquilizer (wonderful stuff!) and let them run. Big cat Chloe has taken over my lap, which makes typing difficult, prissy little dog Mindy Moo is lying right where my feet need to go, and oldest cat Squeaky Boots – a tiny thing of 6 lbs who rules the house with an iron paw and a single deadly little fang – has taken over our king-sized bed by sprawling in the exact center. Yes, life is back to what we laughingly call normal.

My work isn’t, though. Sigh. Wonderful month, saw lots of people and places and learned lots of things, but my writing this month has totally gone south. Barely ten pages all month. Lots of ideas, lots of plotting, even a nifty idea for a mystery series – which has garnered some interest, believe it or not – but two books that desperately need finishing and two more ready to be self-published, all ignored.

Well, that will change tomorrow, just as soon as I hit the grocery store and lay in enough supplies to make sure that The Husband and I don’t starve to death. Though with all the wonderful meals out we’ve had in this month that eventuality is far from being a worry. I still say that whoever invented elastic waistbands deserves instant canonization.

If there is anything that I have learned in the last couple of decades of being a writer, it’s that you can’t plan. You can make all the business models you want, set up all the spreadsheets and project charts you like, but life can and will get in the way. I guess that’s true in any other field as well, but it seems to affect writers and artists more.

Like the NINC conference – without doubt the best conference for professional working writers on the planet. In three and a half very full and very long days I learned so much that my head is about to explode. Unfortunately, there was so much that I learned – stuff that really should be done NOW for the advancement of my business – that somehow the writing of new stuff gets shoved even further back. I did take my tablet and computer to Florida just so I could work in my down time, except there wasn’t any down time. When I wasn’t in workshops or exchanging information with other writers, I was trying to enjoy a little time with my adored Husband in a tropical paradise. Work? What’s that? Sleep? Who needs it?

Anyway, I have already made and paid for our reservations to next year’s conference, and will contact the hotel about rooms tomorrow or the next day. I’m already excited.

And tired. So – please forgive if this is a less than coherent post. My mind is going off in twenty different directions, and my body is going to bed. Night!