Murder She Writes

I just wanted to post a quick note to let our faithful readers know that the wonderful Elaine Flinn tried to respond to comments yesterday but was having computer difficulties. Don’t know it it’s her computer or our server, but you were not ignored! She’ll try and stop by over the weekend and comment, but don’t hunt her down if our servers don’t talk to each other. She wanted me to let everyone know that she really appreciates their comments and had fun reading them!

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But I am on such a tight deadline right now, my first historical, formerly known as KISS OF THE KNIGHT, now tentatively titled TAKEN BY THE KNIGHT which is book one in The Blood Sword Legacy series, is nearing completion. As it damn well should because it is nearly a month late. But hey, when I originally contracted this story it was to be one way, now as the launch book of a series it has to be bigger, and bigger takes more time. And bigger it is. I love this story!!

As far as a coherent blog post for today, I cannot think of anything to say in modern English. Old Saxon and French, yes. I could talk about the politics of 1066 England, and how fascinating I find it. Or the complexity of the peoples of 11th century England. Like the difference between Normans, Saxons, Danes and Scots. Or knights and foot soldiers and who was the expert archer, or who wielded a battle ax as if it were a baton. I could talk about the broadsword all day long. Or about the huge Viking influence in England at this time. Or the Danelaw, and Danegeld, and how the Norse were amongst the cleanest peoples on the continent. They actually bathed weekly and changed clothes regularly. They were more than marauders; they were avid traders and as many of you know seafarers of the highest order. Even today, engineers marvel at the craftsmanship and engineering that went into the dragon ships built more than a thousand years ago. But I digress.

I am on deadline and cannot come up with a blog post today that would be of much interest to most. So I am not even going to try. I would like to say though, I am launching my third First Line contest over at my blog this coming Monday, October the 1st. I’ll be posting the guidelines sometime Sunday. Stop by and enjoy.

Again my apologies for not regaling you all today but I am on a mission to complete this story sometime today. Print it out tonight, flesh it out over the weekend, and have it to my agent Monday morning when she gets in. I still have 50 pages to write.

Ciao!

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Please welcome Elaine Flinn, award-winning author of the wonderful Molly Doyle mysteries, as our special guest today. Publishers Weekly said of her latest release, DEADLY VINTAGE, “Carmel, California comes alive in Flinn’s engaging fourth mystery to feature Molly Doyle, antiques dealer and reluctant but adept sleuth. Once again Molly delves at considerable personal risk into a homicide case. Full of interesting antiques lore, this expertly plotted whodunit is a must-read for fans…”
and Crime Spree Magazine says, “A truly perfect traditional mystery…Flinn has the ability to draw the reader into the story with characters so terrific you very quickly feel like you are spending time with old friends.”

Feel free to ask her questions, talk about mysteries, find out if the rumors are true . . . what rumors you ask? The ones only Elaine knows about . . .

The Untimely Death of Mystery

Yes, it’s true. Mystery is dead. Michael Chabon has decreed it so. Oh? You didn’t know that? Well, hell’s bells, where have you been?
Maybe you don’t read Harper’s. Frankly, I don’t read it much myself these days. It’s really hard on my nerves, you know? I mean, I’m sick to death of page after page of redundant pontificating. And that index? ARGH! Wanna get depressed? Read it every month and I’ll guarantee you will. Guess you’re surprised to know I even read the thing, huh? Stop laughing. I even know how to spell Dostoevsky. But I digress. Harper’s is where I found out that our world—mystery–is dead. And we all know this illustrious magazine is the last word on what’s going on in the realm of the literati.

The quote below is what caught my eye. It’s taken from the opening of Ruth Franklin’s review of Michael Chabon’s new book The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. I wasn’t familiar with Ms. Franklin, so I checked the review out (May 8th in Slate) and discovered Ms. Franklin is the senior editor of The New Republic. Yes, I know–you’re already yawning–but stick with me, k?

Are you ready for the death knell? Here it is:

“Michael Chabon has spent considerable energy trying to drag the decaying corpse of genre fiction out of the shallow grave where writers of serious literature abandoned it.”

Oh, gosh. I didn’t know we’d died, did you? I also didn’t know we’d been abandoned either! I further didn’t know that we needed a champion. But you have to admit it’s pretty damn swell of him to take on the role. I just hate to see such a talented writer like Chabon expend so much unnecessary energy on a such a futile quest, don’t you? I’d rather see him working on his next Pulitzer. Maybe burning the midnight oil for that goal is what has clouded his mind. Clearly, he isn’t aware that we have plenty of our own hero types who can take this non-existent challenge off his hands. All one has to do is take a gander at the list of the MWA Edgar submission’s and pick your champion(s). Male or Female. No gender bias here.

I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to tell the 253 writers submitted (as of 9/7) for Best Novel, or the 50 Best First writers, or even the 107 Best BO authors let alone the 34 Best Crime writers that we’re dead. We won’t even get into shorts, YA or the rest of the categories.

But don’t get me wrong here. I’m not accusing Mr. Chabon of presumptuous arrogance in thinking he needs to save us. However, according to Ms. Franklin, Mr. Chabon “longs for the days of when masters such as Edgar Allan Poe, Edith Wharton and Henry James wrote ripping yarns packed with plot and color.” Gosh, you mean that’s been missing? But wait there’s more. How about this one – “In the lost genres – horror, romance, detective, and adventure – Chabon saw a tradition of great writers writing short stories.” Someone should clue this guy in and take him to the local book store. Lost genres?? Short stories? Well, yeah, if it takes you 434 pages to get your story done, then I guess it’s easy to consider anything less a short story.

But I’d sure as hell like to know just WHAT he’s trying to save us from. I mean, mystery is – and has been the central theme, in one way or another – of most literature. Sure it’s had different titles, different permutations – but most important – let’s not forget the key word in the quote “genre.” When you add SF, True Crime and Romance to the equation – and whatever the hell else you’d like to drop in – okay, add Noir too – well I’d say genre fiction is alive and kicking rather well, wouldn’t you?

The thing is Mr. Chabon has little room to criticize genre even Ms. Franklin states that some of his previous attempts have been less than startling. Less successfully, Chabon recently unfurled a wince-worthy serial novel (in the New York Times Magazine) set in the Caucasus Mountains at the end of the millennium, that featured some stunningly bad writing.”

Oh, golly gosh! Could Wikipedia be wrong? He’s labeled there as “one of the most celebrated writers of his generation.” His work is characterized by complex language, frequent use of metaphors, and an extensive vocabulary.”

And this guy thinks he needs to save US? Sounds to me like he might have use for a sharp red pencil. Stick with literature honey. We mystery people like plain language. Aren’t too crazy about the over use of metaphors either.

So save the dough for the flowers, and cancel the obit. But hey – what a wake it might have been, huh?

Today’s post will be short and sweet, which may actually be a relief to many who read this blog! lol. I’ve been running non-stop for the last three days, with maybe 6 hours of sleep in 72. At the moment, I’m about to run out the door to a local high school, where I get to grab about 600 high school students by the collar, get their attention, then, hopefully, excite them enough to read. (Oh, in case you’re wondering, the last two days have been spent doing infomercials for a haunted house attraction, where I’ll be doing a presentation on paranormal investigations (pics and audio included). What a hoot that was. Pics for both events soon to come.

Yeah, I’m exhausted, but it’s part of the deal. It ain’t just about books anymore, kiddo!

Will send updates, pics, and even a YouTube soon!
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Please join me in welcoming Susan McBride, author of the popular Debutante Dropout Mysteries, and the forthcoming YA series, THE DEBS.

My name is Susan McBride, and I’m a workaholic. I’m one of those annoying Type As who can’t seem to sit still. I haven’t had a real vacation since God knows when. Yes, I’ve been called “The Energizer Bunny,” and, no, I haven’t been diagnosed with adult ADHD (yet).

Though I must confess, being a go-getter has come in handy. It sure helped when I had my first novel published by a small traditional press in 1999. Not that I’d expected a huge advertising budget spent on AND THEN SHE WAS GONE when only 2,500 copies were printed; but I guess I’d expected, um, something. What I quickly realized was that, if I wanted to sell more than fifty copies to family and friends, I’d have to promote like a maniac. It was definitely on-the-job training, nothing I could’ve learned in class. I put my public relations major to good use, learning my market and targeting mystery bookstores and regional media, somehow pushing GONE into a second printing. By the time OVERKILL came out, I had the ropes down pretty well. I’d concocted the Deadly Divas, four female mystery authors who toured together in boas and tiaras, and I’d developed a network of friends and acquaintances across the country who were willing to give me a hand (i.e., letting me sleep on their sofas during road trips).

With guidance from author-pals, I signed with an agent and soon had a contract with Avon for three books in my Debutante Dropout Mystery series. The first, BLUE BLOOD, debuted without fanfare in 2004 but caught on fast with bookstores and readers and went back to press even before its official pub date (and has returned to press three more times since). I quickly signed for two additional books, and, like clockwork, THE GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER, THE LONE STAR LONELY HEARTS CLUB, and NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEB followed suit, garnering a handful of award nominations and an actual win (a Lefty Award for Best Humorous Mystery that might be the only prize I’ll ever get).

It felt like a feast after 10 years of famine, and I toured like a woman possessed, going anywhere and everywhere I could to plug my books. My schedule got so crazed that I regularly boxed myself into a corner, often leaving just three months to write a book. I knew I was burning the candle at both ends, but the publicity whirl was so much fun. I was hooked.

Even after I met Ed in November of 2005 and realized I was seriously smitten, I didn’t slow the hectic pace of my life; though I started feeling the pull then, of wanting to stay home yet needing to be out there, smack in the middle of things. I probably would’ve kept it up, too, if it hadn’t been for that pesky breast cancer diagnosis just before Christmas in 2006. Nothing like being told you have a lump in your boob to put a brake on things, huh?

Suddenly, a giant STOP sign had been thrown up in my face and all that mattered was my health. My to-do list changed drastically. It no longer involved speaking gigs, book festivals and conventions, but seeing doctors, setting up surgery, and getting through 33 radiation treatments while finishing my fifth Deb Dropout Mystery, TOO PRETTY TO DIE, and writing THE DEBS, my first YA book for Delacorte. Yeah, even when I was being ordered to rest, I had work to do. I did cancel my trips to promote NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEB (released in February as I started rad therapy), which truly upset me. I sat down and cried, feeling like I was letting people down when I’d never missed a gig before, not once for any reason.

What I learned—and am still learning—is that I am not a robot. I simply can’t do everything. I cannot live with so much stress in my life that my neck is permanently stiff. Being forced to be a patient reminded me how much I missed having quiet times, how great it was not to live out of a suitcase, and how thoroughly and completely I loved the writing process. My passion for words is why I’d gotten into this crazy business in the first place. Suddenly, my desire to be Publicity Goddess seemed far less urgent.

The very wise Jerrilyn Farmer advised that I learn to be a Type A-minus, and, boy, I’m working on it. I’ve stopped trying to juggle so many balls at once, which has meant pulling back from unessential obligations. I’m staying home more, focusing on my writing (namely, the non-mystery YA series to debut next August with THE DEBS), planning my wedding, and spending more time with Ed. I used to be afraid to turn down gigs for fear I’d never be invited again, and now I’m comfortable saying, “No.” There’s something very scary—yet very freeing—about uttering that two-letter word when it used to be so anathema to me.

Perhaps some folks can do it all. Not me. Not anymore. I want to simplify my life, learn how to take it easy, and stop to smell the roses instead of trampling over them in my haste to get where I’m going. There’s nothing wrong with taking the scenic route after all—it might take a wee bit longer, but it’s a whole lot sweeter.

Cheers,
Susan

http://SusanMcBride.com

P.S. My breast cancer was a rare type—only 2% of cases—called mucinous carcinoma, typically found in older women. I’m fortunate that the prognosis was excellent from the start. I’m completely cancer-free and have been since January, and I made it through radiation with flying colors. I’ve been working out with a personal trainer to regain my strength, and I feel great. Did stress play a part in things? Who knows. But I think my ordeal was definitely a wake-up call, and, baby, I heard it loud and clear. Did I mention Ed and I are heading to a B&B next weekend (no laptops allowed)? Being a Type A-minus does have its benefits!

Because Jen is busy interviewing pool boys (don’t tell her husband) I get to take her slot today. And since I’ve been a relative stranger the past few weeks, I’m sure you are all asking, “What the heck?”

It’s a fair question. I’ve asked that a few times myself. First there was some surgery that decided to catch me by surprise, and that took some time to heal from. And then there were some personal issues that reared their ugly heads right around the same time that my health declined, and they all combined together to make my life pretty unstable for a while.

My health is on the upswing now, and the personal issues are being dealt with, and so I came back, but the ladies at MSW managed to get some really cool guest bloggers, so I didn’t want to interfere with them. So I just bumped Jen….

I’m sure she thought it would be really cool if I would talk about Warren Jeffs, or as I like to call him, Weenie Rat Face. Jeffs was the prophet of the FLDS group in Colorado City, and responsible for ruining the lives of countless teenage girls, and boys, too. The girls he married off to old men, and the boys he ousted from the community for trivial offenses because they were too much competition for the old men.

When it became apparent Jeffs was facing charges, he took off and hid like the cowardly scum he is, but he was eventually caught. He has been on trial, and his fate now rests in the hands of the jury. We should know this week what the verdict will be.

His attorney claims he is the fall-guy for a government that doesn’t like his religion. I can assure you, that is not true.

Yes, it is true that the mainstream LDS Church, and the Utah government that is filled with adherents to the faith, does not like Jeffs and his little group of polygamists. They don’t like the FLDS group because every time someone talks about them, the LDS Church must address its own ties to polygamy. They’d rather not talk about that, thankyouverymuch.

For years, polygamy was ignored in Utah mainly for that reason, and the fact that it’s hard to reconcile charging someone with a crime that you know your own grandparents were guilty of—and they didn’t consider it a crime at all.

That ended with Tom Green, the kidnapping of Elizabeth Smart, and the advent of a new media that no longer decided to ignore Utah Mormonism.

And so, Warren Jeffs had to go. I suspect he will serve some time on this charge, but how much? And once he is away, will the focus be gone, and other polygamists left to carry on in marrying off young, innocent teenage girls to old men?

This is a crime that I addressed in my very first book, SISTERWIFE, and one that I will continue to address until it is STAMPED OUT. A 13-year-old girl is not a consenting adult. And she has a mind, and a brain, and she does NOT deserve to be given no chance at all at life.

If this bothered you, or bothers you at all, stay up in arms, please.

So, there I go. Welcome back with a rant.

Tomorrow, please tune in for Susan McBride, a wonderful writer and a great person!

Does the word integrity just not mean anything to anyone these days?

Do we not teach it as a vocab word?

In sports: Bill Bellicheck gets nailed for sending a guy off to film the Jets’ hand signals. I guess he didn’t get the memo. Seriously, there was a memo. (paraphrasing here) FILMING SIDELINE ACTIVITY, SPECIFICALLY HAND SIGNALS IS AGAINST THE RULES! The memo went on to say while it has been ignored in the past, the new Sheriff in town has zero tolerance. All of the teams got the memo. Bellicheck must have tossed his in the trash, he obviously doesn’t give two shits about the rules. I guess he figured they didn’t apply to him. So dumb cheating-ass gets the same guy to film (yeah, this one is an Einstein coz he was caught doing the same thing last year and told “No, no.”) and guess what? He got caught. Again. The Pats are paying a hefty hefty fine. Big bucks and they lose their first round draft pick next year. Boo effing hoo Bellicheck. Cheater. Makes you wonder how they really got to all those super bowls. But what fries my butt is all of the people screaming in Bellicheck’s defense. “Everyone does it!” They say. So what? I say. It doesn’t make it okay.

And how can we stand up and wave the American flag in France of all places these days? Way to go Floyd! Take some more of that synthetic testosterone, stage an amazing Tour de France comeback, then look me in the eye and say you did it au natural. Give me a break.

Barry Bonds? He wrote the book on cheating. How many other baseball players out there played all juiced up? Hint: just look at the guys who have gone from that over-the-top-muscled-out-look that went hand in hand with incredible stats, to the guys who have lost all of that bulky muscle mass (not taking steroids’ll do that to ya) and can’t hit a home run to save their cheatin’ hearts. And don’t tell me Barry Bonds is still hitting them sans the steroids. Listen, I know, and you know, the guy was a natural home run hitter. But not a 755 + natural.

How about the wrestlers who have wigged out on steroids and killed not only themselves but others? Sure let’s juice to get those big bucks and let’s everyone look politely the other way.

So what the hell are kids today to think about cheating when their role models are leading the charge? You know what really pisses me off? These so called role models who say it’s not their job to teach morality to kids. Well, screw you. The owners of the teams should dump them. But wait! They can’t because another team will pick them up and poof, there goes millions in profits. What’s a team owner to do? Why, hold on to the lying cheat.

Are you as sick of all of this as I am? It just makes me not want to spend one dime on any professional sporting event. It makes me not want to support any of them on any level.

And, as if you can’t tell, I’m a teensy weensy grumpy today. Maybe it’s because I did not lose one single pound this week. But I didn’t gain one either. So, I guess I shouldn’t be too grumpy.

So check in, and give me your thoughts on the cheatin’ topic.

I’m putting together my workshops to pitch to RWA National, and one of them is on pacing.

Well, I think it’s going to be on pacing.

Roxanne St. Claire and I were talking about doing a workshop together in San Francisco (the next RWA conference) and were flirting with the idea of romantic suspense. She writes very emotional, sexy, romancy-romantic suspense and I write darker, more suspency romantic suspense. We write completely different in tone and style, yet we both write romantic suspense.

So we were playing with that, doing a workshop and the breadth and depth of the RS genre, then came up with the idea of talking about what is the common denominator of romantic suspense. Aside from the obvious (a relationship between two protagonists), the most important MUST in a romantic suspense is strong pacing.

Notice I say MUST. I rarely say that there is a hard-fast rule in anything, but in romantic suspense–in any of the suspense genres–pacing is crucial. Whether you write light or dark, more romance or more suspense, pacing is key.

So we started talking about pacing, and in walks my long-lost would-be sister Toni McGee Causey. Now THERE is a woman with her head screwed on straight–she loves both Rocki AND my books! So of course we invited her to join our panel because one thing Toni knows is pacing. (Read BOBBIE FAYE and you’ll totally agree.)

We’re still working on a title for the workshop, something that conveys pacing in romantic suspense, and we’re still working on the content (which I will NOT plan ahead of time, just give me a couple sentences and I’m good to go . . . ), but I thought that I’d share with you some things that I do when I’m writing and editing.

After strong characterization, pacing is the most important thing in every book, but absolutely vital in romantic suspense. If you’re writing women’s fiction or an angsty historical you may have more luxury in weaving the story–in historicals people love period detail, in women’s fiction, they want the deep emotion and relationships with not only a man, but family and friends and colleagues–the complete woman. This doesn’t mean bore your reader, but you have more elbow room, so-to-speak. But in RS, you have to keep the reader invested in not only the potential relationship, but in the plot. They need to keep turning pages, and in RS they expect to turn them because of the suspense plot. It all comes down, frankly, to reader expectations.

I can usually tell when my pacing is off as I’m writing. If a scene is boring me, it’s the pacing. It MAY be because the scene doesn’t need to be there–but primarily it’s because I’ve stalled, the characters have stalled, and NOTHING IS HAPPENING. Now, it doesn’t have to be a big event–sometimes it’s a small relevation, or even the knowledge that the killer is watching the quiet scene unfold. But something needs to happen to pique the reader’s interest so they want to find out more. So they turn another page. So they don’t put the book down in the middle unless they absolutely have to because the house is on fire.

Chapter beginnings are the hardest part for me to write. I don’t know why. I think because I unconsciously want to set the scene at the beginning of every chapter, and that is almost always the kiss of death. At least for me. Some authors weave in setting beautifully, making it a character in and of itself (I’m trying to do that in SILENT SCREAM because setting is important to the story), but unless the setting is crucial to the story, the less detail the better.

Chapter endings are much easier for me. I know it’s the end when I get there, and the chapter can be two pages or twenty. The ending should be a hook, a revelation, a question, a cliffhanger, anything to get the reader to turn the page. I don’t know who originally said this, but it is GREAT advice: Arrive Late, Leave Early. That means start the chapter not necessarily at the beginning (which may be the protagonist driving to the crime scene) but in the middle of the crime scene. In SPEAK NO EVIL I started with Carina staring at the dead body while the CSI was processing evidence. I didn’t need to get them to the scene, that would have been boring. I can establish character through the action in the scene and in subsequent chapters; I don’t need to dump it all in at the beginning.

The single biggest mistake novice writers make is telling the reader too much information about the characters. Readers don’t need to know everything at the beginning. You have a new neighbor. She comes over and spends the next three hours telling you everything about herself and her life, her kids, her husband, her parents, how she was screwing the pool guy last week and her husband’s vasectomy. You’re exhausted, breathless, and you really don’t want to spend anymore time with her. But instead, she comes over and offers you homebaked cookies, dressed to the nines and smelling like sin. She says breathlessly, “Sorry, I meant to bring this by earlier, but I got distracted . . . I have to run to work, I hope we get a chance to talk later!” You take the cookies, look out the window, and watch her drive away in a Mercedes . . . then notice the pool guy is in the driveway. Interesting.

Pacing is all about questions and answers and how they are shared with the reader. You pose three questions in chapter one, answer two in chapter two but introduce three more. You solve one problem, create another . . . or three. Ebb and flow. Throw in any cliche you want.

I visualize stories. Some are a race–they start with a bang, keep ratcheting up, but when you are turning a crank you have a downstroke as well as an upstroke, and it’s getting tighter and tighter and tighter until you can’t budge it–then you use all your strength for that final twist and yes, you can get it tighter. (FEAR NO EVIL) Some stories are like an reverse tornado, starting slower at the beginning, ominous, and getting faster, and faster, and faster. (THE PREY.) Some are like a tsunami, where you have a sudden, violent event, then nothing. It’s quiet, too quiet . . . then WHAM! disaster of epic proportions. (KILLING FEAR)

Short chapters are a gimmick to increase pacing and it doesn’t always work. Sometimes it does. I suggest to use them sparingly like all devices–it’s a tool in your tool chest, as Stephen King would say. Use it when you need to. Just like cliffhangers, just like earth-shattering revelations.

When you read a bestselling thriller or suspense novel, note the pacing (I’ll admit, this is hard to do because good pacing will disappear in the story–you can’t tell until you’re at the end!) The authors who have rarely, if ever, disappointed me on pacing (i.e. giving me the “boring parts”) are JD Robb, Michael Connelly and Robert Crais. I’ve only read one of Toni’s books because there is only one so far, but it is a master course on pacing in and of itself.

One NY editor told me that the two things she can’t fix are character and pacing. Not surprisingly, those are the two most important things in ANY book.

So do you have some suggestions on pacing? Pet peeves? What are some books where you thought the pacing was right on the money? And most important, do you have a title of Rocki, Toni and my workshop? (And no, I’m NOT changing my name to Alli.)