Anne Louise Bannon Would Like to Introduce Herself, But…

Photo of Anne Louise Bannon's desktop to illustrate why she's writing such a quick introduction.Is it the Third Thursday already? Shavings! (Note to self, check to see why reminders didn’t pop up). (Note to self, stop ignoring your reminders).

Hi, I’m Anne Louise Bannon. I’m supposed to be introducing myself, and my intent was to offer you a breezy little look at who I am, introduce you to the household critters, that sort of thing.

Only I’d really rather be working on my novel right now. It’s at that place where things are falling together, even though I’m really annoyed about having to off an otherwise inoffensive, nice guy of a character because it’s better for the plot.

And it’s not like I don’t have other distractions. We all do. I have a house that I need to help keep liveable, and while the dust generally waits around here, my feet sticking to the floor must be dealt with. And my husband needs clean shirts – only fair since he does the dishes. Plus the dog wants out again. The cats, as usual, can’t make up their minds, and the more I want them to, the longer they take to do it. Plus there’s the money gig which needs attention – I’ve gotten rather fond of eating, you know.

So, this is going to be quick. I’m Anne. I write the Freddie and Kathy series, set in the 1920s, the Old Los Angeles series, set in 1870 (the novel I want to get back to is the third in this one). I have a lovely husband, one adult daughter, and the critters, who I name because they don’t have the same privacy issues the kid and the spouse do. TobyWan is our basset/beagle mix. There’s the older cat Sadie, who should be Medusa, and the two young cats, Xanax and Benzedrine. There is a story behind the names, but that will have to wait until next month or some other time.

I need to get back to Death of the Chinese Field Hands. Maddie is in full interrogation mode and I need to write that.

The Good and Bad by Marilyn Meredith

Poppies by the dumpTraveling the road of life is never smooth. It seems just when everything is going well, a huge boulder crops up to make the way difficult.

First off, my post is late because when I was writing it on Sunday, the power went out and when it came back on I had to be somewhere else.

Health wise, I’d done really well, until I took too bad tumbles—one that required a trip to the ER, and another when I decided to stay home. After a couple of weeks I still have very sore knees and following the doc’s advice to use a cane. (Would be okay except I keep misplacing it.)

My writing career has also taken a tumble in that one of my publishers seems to have problems. Lack of communication and royalty payments has made me come to the sad decision to ask for my rights back. Which means I’ll be self-publishing one of my series, hopefully.

One of my great-granddaughters (17) had back surgery—scary, but she’s already walking and climbing stairs. (She’s a super active young woman, a mountain bike racer—that’s how she got injured, works part-time while going to school, heads up a couple of clubs, planning on college.)

One of the great-greats who lives with us (4 year-old Priscilla) has a new pet—a worm named Sylvia. How can you be upset with life, when such fun stuff is happening?

Plus after years of drought here in California we’ve had lots of rain, and now the hills are covered with wild flowers—yellow, white, and most wonderful of all, poppies and lupine are sprouting all over the hillsides.

Back to writing—I’m moving ahead with the latest book in my other series and in April I’ll be presenting at a wonderful writer’s conference in San Luis Obispo about settings and characters, and sitting on a panel about research. I’m also going to have my books for sale at a big book fair in Visalia.

Being around other writers and talking to readers about books is a great way to lift my spirits.

Happy spring everyone!

Marilyn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer sun and mutating ideas!

JordainaHey folks. What’s new with you?

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but here in the UK, we’re suffering through a heatwave. (I’m English—gotta talk about the weather! I went to Nashville a few years ago now (we can talk about my Nashville adventures another time) and mentioned the weather to someone, like “It’s warm today”. They replied with, “Yeah, it is.” And that was it. Back home, that’s at least twenty minutes worth of conversation, right there. Or maybe he just didn’t like me … ).

And, yes, I did say, “suffering”! It’s lovely to see the sun, but shoot! I wouldn’t mind a bit of cloud as well. Maybe even a breeze. (I’m complaining about this now, next time week speak I’ll be whining about the rain!)

Anyway, with it being England, summers are unpredictable which sucks because whenever I can, I love to write outside. Maybe it’s because it’s rare to have days when it’s warm enough to do this. I feel like when I write inside my ideas are contained. They’re trapped in the room with me, and they can’t mutate into much better ideas because there isn’t space and then they suffocate each other, and I have to go downstairs to get a chocolate bar and a cup of tea.

giphy-4But when I write outside? I imagine my ideas multiplying and changing and growing limitlessly. I want to say they dance around on the breeze, like Julia Andrews in The Sound of Music but, in reality, I think it’s probably more like what happens to that alien in Evolution when they hit it with napalm. Only my ideas are much prettier. Maybe.

My point is being outside makes me feel more creative. Or imaginative. Maybe it’s because there’s more going on outside so there are more stimuli. For example, I love watching the planes fly over and wonder where the passengers are going. Are they going on holiday? Coming back? Did they find a holiday romance? Are they moving away and starting a new life? Are they leaving a new life and coming back to their old one because the new one didn’t work out? Are they on their first leg of an around the world adventure? Are they coming back from an around the world adventure wholly changed? What are their plans now?

I’m pretty sure everyone thinks about this when they see planes. Or maybe they wave their fist at the plane, super annoyed that they’re not on that plane, going on holiday. (I’ve been there. I briefly worked in a retail store in the departures area of an airport. It killed me! Killed me. I had to go through security every day as if I were going on holiday … but I was just going to work. Gut-wrenchingly depressing.)

To get back on track, even when it rains, I’m outside. I might be huddled under my garden umbrella, clinging onto my hot-water bottle as I type, but I’m outside. I thought about investing in a fancy summer house, but it still has that “inside” feel to it.

lisa-in-coffee-shopI know people who write in coffee shops, but I just can’t be doing with all that noise and commotion. And, oh my days, there would be so many conversations to eavesdrop on I’d never get anything done!

Is there anywhere you love to write? Anywhere that fills you full of inspiration? Add a comment and let me know!

Until next time …

Jordaina 🙂

Writing is My Life or My Life is My Writing by Paty Jager

Artful Murder 5x8There’s not a writer out there who hasn’t brought something from their life into their writing. Writing whether for pleasure or for money, deals with everyday life experiences. It has to. One can’t bring the full flavor of life into a story without allowing something they have experienced to come into the writing.

Everyday happenings: the pungent aroma of coffee brewing, the dampness of mist walking on the beach, the blinding glare of light from an oncoming vehicle at night, the sweet and sour tingle on the tongue while eating candy.  All of these everyday things are used when writing. The senses and what we see and feel around us are used to show the characters in the same or comparable settings.

When I started planning Artful Murder, book 10 in the Shandra Higheagle mystery series and my March release, I had to draw on past experiences. Far back experiences. LOL In Artful Murder, Shandra volunteers in a high school art department.

While figuring out who the murder victim would be and lining up suspects, I went back to memories of high school and found the one teacher who the boys made fun of and the girls found creepy.  He became my murder victim.

I made the victim worse than the real life teacher. And I gave the principal a reason for ignoring the complaints of the other teachers and students. Which, of course, added more suspects and widened the net of suspects to parents and significant others of the female teachers.

Students are more savvy to what is going on in their schools than teachers think. I used this and a person with a grudge to add even more fuel to the ffire that was about to explode at the school.

I can honestly say that I have more fun fleshing out my mystery books than I do the other genre I write. There is something therapeutic about putting the people or events that I’ve come across through my life into books and find my own justice.

SH Mug Art