Romance Writers of America Conference

I'm at the RWA's annual conference in Orlando, Florida. I didn't know what to expect, being used to mystery cons. What I've found is a group of professionals who are interested in understanding and improving the business of publishing in the romance genre and the various subgenres that relate to it. I'm learning a lot.

Nora Roberts is funny, intelligent, and charming. Publishing workshops are informative and interesting. And my workshop, Dress for Historical Success, will be helpful for historical writers and fun for everyone else. I expect two more worthwhile days: a great resource for aspiring and active writers in romance and related genres.

It Is a Small World, After All

We arrived at Disney World yesterday, which is a bit of an ordeal in itself. We made it with the help of GPS navigation and lots of signs. The place is impressive, a shrine to Mickey and to money. Everything costs a little extra. It's done well, but one is best off if she doesn't think too much about the three-dollar drinks, fifteen dollar salads, and the extra fees for wi-fi, parking, and enforced baggage service. There is no way to economize, no place else to go, so put up and shut up.

That said, it is well done, and it's no worse than what a lot of large hotels do. In D.C. this spring I stayed at a hotel that charged extra for wi-fi in the room. One had to go down and sit in the lobby to connect or pay ten dollars more per day. The conference rate was around $150, but when I asked to stay over into the week, they quoted me a cost of $300+/day for a single room. Double?

A visitor to places that chisel money out of their guests in this way leaves me feeling, if not raped, at least molested. It seems to me that corporate at these places should be looking for ways to make guests feel pampered, not rooked. Maybe it is a small world after all--small minds seeing only profit rather than return trips from their guests.

What Do You Need for Your Writing?

I'm traveling, and I often talk to people along the way about being a writer. A motel clerk yesterday mentioned that she would like to write but claimed she doesn't have the patience for it. That got me thinking. What does it take--beside talent--to be a writer?

Patience is one thing, I suppose. It takes a long time and a lot of focus for a novel to get written. The idea for a novel, which everyone supposedly has in his head, doesn't just float onto paper or into a file. It's hard work to sit and make it happen, and a lot of the BITCH (butt in the chair, honey) is required.

I find that I need a chunk of semi-conscious think time. Driving or walking does it for me, but it works best if it's long-term. Car trips like the one I'm on are particularly valuable as I try out different scenarios, let my characters talk to me, and invent the antagonists who will make their lives difficult in the next book.

Ironically, I cannot write all that down on a road trip. I can make notes. I scribble on paper in the car (hubby drives, don't panic). I transfer those notes to the computer at night in whatever hotel room I inhabit. But I can't settle down and write. That takes extended time and a focused mindset.

I have friends who can write for an hour, even fifteen minutes on their lunch break. That isn't me.

After this trip, I plan to schedule several days of concentrated writing, putting everything I've been thinking about to work.

It's how I roll.

My Daddy Sold Used Cars

...And a lot of other stuff. Mom used to tell us not to stand too long in the front yard, because Dad would start dealing on one of us if someone made him a decent offer.

The urge to sell things is more complicated than it might first appear, at least for some. My father liked the dickering, the conversations, the compromises involved, but he really didn't care that much about the money. For him, I suspect, the satisfaction came from meeting someone's need. That's why we never got rich, but it's also why his funeral attendees crowded the church and stood in the overflow room and even the hallway and vestibule. Half the people in town had bought a good used car from Bud and were grateful that he hadn't gouged them, had made sure it had decent tires and didn't burn too much oil.

Dad once gave a man a car to test out for a while. The man drove it for three years and then brought it back, saying he didn't want it after all. Dad said not a word, because the man had five children and a terrible job, and he'd needed that car.

Now I'm the salesperson, offering books to readers. I can't get excited about the money part of it, although it would be nice to see a profit someday. What I enjoy is meeting readers who like what I write. Then I simply let them know it's out there. I can't press my work on someone who doesn't read mysteries, can't insist that a person will love my work just to get a sale. But when someone says, "I love reading about the Tudors" or "I like stuff about the '60s", I can feel that used car salesman in my background whispering in my ear, "It's time to deal."

MysterEbook Launch

Today marks the beginning of a new webblog for owners of e-readers. Mysterebooks.blogspot.com begins listing mysteries for e-books with author-submitted information and reviews. This week's listings are below. Please stop by and read, comment, and enjoy!


Monday, July 26, 2010
Title THE FOUR LAST THINGS (Simeon Grist #1)
Author Timothy Hallinan
Genre/Sub-genre: LA private eye novel
Tuesday:
Title TO CATCH A COP
AUTHOR Elle Druskin
GENRE Mystery/Romance
Wenesday:
Title: Murder On The Mind
Author: L.L. Bartlett
Genre: Mystery/Paranormal
Thursday:
Title THE SHADOW OF REALITY, #1 The Elizabeth & Richard Mysteries
Author Donna Fletcher Crow
Genre Mystery/ Romantic Intrigue
Friday:
TITLE: Follow The Falcon
AUTHOR: Steve Kendall
GENRE: mystery

Cell Phones and Curmudgeosity

If this makes me sound like a throw-back, so be it, but here's the story.

We're traveling. We stop at a rest area. I go into the little stall, minding my own business, as they say. A woman comes into the place, talking to someone else. She comments on the place in a way that lets me know she is on her cell phone. Telling someone about the facility. Okay.

It gets worse. She goes into the stall next to mine and makes water (as my grandmother used to say), all the time talking to whoever. The person cannot fail to hear the tinkle, the flush, etc.

I have long wondered if the people who talk incessantly on their cell phones actually have conversations with their friends and family when they are with them in person.

My guess is no. Judging from what I've seen in restaurants and stores, when they are with friends and/or family, that's the time when they call someone else on their cell phones.

I Can Stop Anytime I Want

Okay, so I bought an e-reader. And I had to try it out, of course, so I downloaded a book my husband has been wanting to read (and tricked him into trying the thing and finding out how easy it is to use. HA!)
Then, of course, I had to download my e-book to see what it looks like to my readers.
I heard from an online contact who likes my work, and I thought about her first book, which I read and really liked, so I tried her name, and there she was, an e-book author. So of course, I bought her book.
Do you see where this is going? Financial ruin, reading bliss, a TBR list stacking up in my little hand-held wonder. Am I happy? Of course!

E-reading

Notice how everything we do nowadays is e-something? We e-publish, e-market, e-mail, e-conference, and e-read. Well, here's news. I just joined that last bunch. I own an e-reader.

It's a very cool toy, but honestly, I didn't buy it for status or from geeky techno-awe. I felt like I needed to understand the market that I entered this year when GO HOME AND DIE and HER HIGHNESS' FIRST MURDER both became e-books.

How does the thing work? What can a person do with it? Does it really feel like reading? These are questions I had until yesterday. At first glance, the answers seem to be "easily", "all sorts of things I had not imagined" and "yes, it does." As soon as I get some time, I will discover the deeper answers which will tell me if e-reading is really for me. Stay tuned.

Mystery E-books: for Writers and E-readers

For some time it has bothered me that there seems to be no site online where a person can read about ONLY mysteries published as e-books. With some trepidation and a lot of help, I’ve decided to attempt to change that. A friend has established a blog that will be dedicated solely to mysteries that are e-published. The submission process is somewhat experimental right now, but the plan is that authors will tell us about their books, following the template found on the site. Please be careful to do exactly as asked, or your book will not be listed. We will not list self-pubbed books, and mystery—the solution of a crime--must be the dominant theme.
If you’d like to submit a book for consideration, go to the site : http://mysterebooks.blogspot.com. There you will find the template and a sample submission. Submit the completed post to mysterebooks@yahoo.com, and we’ll let you know the date of its appearance on MysterEbooks. We’ll also promote the site so that readers learn where they can go to find e-mysteries.
If you are a reader of mysteries on electronic devices, visit us often to read about new options for e-reading!

Switching Sexes

Oh, stop thinking that way!

My thought for the day comes from the night. Once upon a time, my husband wanted the bedroom cool (make that cold) and I wanted it warm. In our maturity, we have switched. These days I can't sleep unless the AC is on, and he suffers from an arthritic shoulder, so the blast of cool air keeps him awake with an ache.

Studies show that men and women make subtle shifts as they age that may reverse behaviors and attitudes from their younger years. Women become more assertive and men less so. Is it because men sense their physical powers waning and women get a sense of it? Women who have finished their life task, raising children, become interested in lots of new things, while men may narrow their circle of activities. One possible reason is that their pursuits often involved physical activity. Riding a motorcycle or tramping through rough terrain just isn't as much fun at 70 as it was at 35.

Of course, I speak in generalities. There are plenty of exceptions to everything I've said here. But as a writer, I think one has to keep in mind the gentle shift as people age. Older male protags might have limits where they did not have them before, and older females? Well, they might just surprise everyone.

Aging Writers

Young people can write, I will admit that. They can have talent, style, and a sense of story. But one gets a sense of life and living from the older writer that comes only from experience. Sadly, it is often sad.

Look at Mark Twain or William Shakespeare. As they aged, their works became less and less fun, more and more dark. Masterworks, some of them, but no happy endings.

I'm reading Walter Mosley's THE LONG FALL right now, and there's a passage that describes the "hammer", something waiting in the sky to hit a person when he least expects it, a staggering blow that surprises and stuns. It requires everything a person has just to go on afterward.

Life brings lots of hammer blows. The more I talk to people, the more I realize that we all have things to bear that are unbearable. Is is the piling on of hammer blows, one after another, that makes us old?

I guess the solace in it all is that we become better able to present reality, better able to capture the ups and downs of being human. Better able to write.

Choice Made for Me

Yesterday I wrote about trying to decide which project to pursue next, my historical series or a different but intriguing idea that's been floating in my head. That choice was made for me last night.

My editor sent the second of the Simon & Elizabeth books back, edits completed, and said that she loves it and hopes I am at work on the third in the series.

Um, sure. I guess I am!

I do like the idea of Book Three. The time is Mary I's reign, so Elizabeth is in extreme danger.

Most of Mary's advisers think it would be best to simply chop the spare princess' head off, as they did to Jane Grey. And my idea for the murder is going to be fun, because even I don't know yet how it was done! I also have a cool subplot that will involve Hannah, Simon's true love.

So yes, I guess I am at work. I haven't written any of this down yet. But I will.

Inspiration or Perspiration?

It's time to choose the next book. My second Simon & Elizabeth (POISON, YOUR GRACE) and my paranormal, THE DEAD DETECTIVE AGENCY, are both in the editing process, so there is nothing I can do about them until I get the editors' suggestions. My newest endeavor, which I titled DEAD INSIDE, is awaiting word from an agent or two. So what do I want to do next?

The perspiration part: write the third of the historical series. I have it outlined on my handy-dandy little tape recorder, and I know and like the characters. I've researched the history. The next step will be to start putting it into real words.

But inspiration just hit on what the next book of the DEAD INSIDE series should be. I find I'm excited about writing that one, too. The plot is evolving, the characters have begun to talk in my head. So do I write the book I know I need to write, or the book that calls to me?

I have to tell you, it's a dilemma I have no problem harboring. I love having two exciting, absorbing projects to choose from. So much better than real life, and I have TWO ways to escape!

Deadlines: My Saving Grace

Nothing is real to me until about three weeks before it happens. Saturday, at a book signing where not much was happening, it occurred to me that three weeks from that date I would be modeling my Catherine Parr dress at the Romance Writers of America annual convention.

Yikes.

It's been fun planning the costume, making the underpinnings, and anticipating the "big" dress, which I hired done lest I overstep the bounds of my sewing talents. (Pictures of the process will be up on my FB page this week: http://www.facebook.com/pages/manage/?act=48050077#!/pages/Pegs-News/108697482481217)

But now it has become real. I promised I would step out in front of many, many people and pretend I know something about history. I promised to lead nine other women onto the stage (only one of whom I've met) and make them look good, too.

Suddenly details matter. Shoes? Hair? And what about the fact that I need my glasses in order to read the scripts? Very un-Tudor like. And then there is the matter of Being Seen and Judged by Others. One of the model/authors, Jeannie Lin, did a great video blog about that terrorizing prospect. (See it at http://www.jeannielin.com/index.php/video-blog-preparing-for-rwa-2010/).

A deadline serves a purpose other than striking fear into my heart, however. It makes me concentrate. I start my lists of things to do, things to take, things to remember. I practice, going over in my mind different scenarios and making sure I can handle them all. It's a great word, when you think on it. Deadline, the point at which anticipation dies and reality shouts, "It's alive!"

The Crazed Killer

If fiction were fact, America would be flooded with maniacal, smart-but-evil murderers who lead the police on macabre chases that follow some twisted idea of order evident only to them, at least until some smart cop/P.I./amateur figures it out.

Reality is, of course, that most murderers are stupid, illogical, impulsive, and easily caught. A cop at a con I attended attested to this, citing the example of two drugged-out men in a shelter who got into a fight over a cheap pendant. One of them later killed the other over a two-dollar necklace.

It's more fun for a writer to invent and then reveal a crazed and clever killer. Why does he kill? Whom does he hunt? How does he cover his tracks? In writing HER HIGHNESS' FIRST MURDER, I enjoyed creating the killer's character, setting the "rules" for his crimes, making him appear normal, and then revealing his ugly underside.

Reality shows us what the mind does, all on its own, to some people. Through drugs, brain anomalies, and even stress, it is truly possible for otherwise normal people to become convinced that they are threatened, persecuted, or even under orders from God. I don't know what the line is between guilty and not guilty by reason of insanity, but I am convinced that, whether the culprit is clever or klutzy, a great number of murders stem from causes that exist only in the mind of the killer.

A Simple Thing Like Water

We are aware that Americans are wasteful, but nothing brings the truth home like being without something we use in large quantities every day, like water.
Our pump is taking a vacation, and while my husband has spent two days now in the well pit, making funny noises and occasionally saying things his mother would not approve of, we have no water running through our pipes and into our home.
I'm trying to look at it as historical research. Having buckets all over the house and measuring usage based on the knowledge that when that bucket is empty, we'll have to go find more is a great way to understand what people of the past went through every single day.
Everything I do seems to be tied to water. The toilets are a given, but it's amazing how many times I automatically reach for that flush handle. And how often did I turn on the faucet in the last day before remembering that rinsing off my hands isn't an option right now? (Thank goodness for hand sanitizer!)
How many things in our lives would change drastically if we had to carry water into our homes from somewhere else? In the past, what consideration had to be given to the different purposes of water, e.g. drinking water as opposed to water for scrubbing floors? How aware were the upper classes of what the lower classes went through to provide them with water each day? And did they care?
See? It's a great lesson I'm getting from this mini-catastrophe in my home, but as I write this, my husband came in to say he's fixed the pump. Water flows again into upstairs and down, sinks and toilets. I can go back to not thinking much about whence go the pipes.

Picky, Picky, Picky

A friend told me yesterday that I have become a picky reader, and she's right. I've admitted as much in former posts. She, on the other hand, when asked what kind of books she likes, will ask in return, "Do they have words?" and then, "Are they in English?" Two affirmatives are enough to satisfy her.

Another friend in the industry often commiserates with me on the perils of examining the books we read. As writer and reviewer, the two of us find that we can't just relax and enjoy a book these days. The mind begins dissecting the plot, the characterization, the chosen storytelling method, and the writing style. And we want it all wrapped up in a neat package. While others wax eloquent on the charming description or the fascinating protagonist, I wonder why she didn't get some sort of negative vibe from living twenty years with a multiple murderer at the family picnics.

Do I realize that others like me are likely to mentally slice up my work the way I do when I read? Of course. It isn't likely that everyone is going to love every author, or even every work by a given author. I just hope there are a lot more readers in the world like the friend who calls me "picky", because my books do have words in them, and so far, at least, they're all in English.

Have You Read This One?

A frustrating part of being a reader is that you're never, ever, done. People are always mentioning books that sound interesting, recommending authors whose work I might enjoy, or even handing me books with a "You've got to read this."

But there isn't time!

Although I never made it to a lot of the old classics, there are new classics, prize-winners, best-sellers, and unread works of authors I like lined up on my mental TBR list, waiting for my attention. I used to read everything, but now I can't even keep up with mystery, my own genre. I'm several behind on most of my favorite authors' books, haven't even tried books by people I've met at cons or online. Titles, blurbs, reviews, and recommendations come so fast I don't even remember most of them, much less find the book and actually read it.

The upshot of all this is that I read a mish-mash of books, mostly chosen by the mood of the moment when I walk into a bookstore or visit amazon.com. My Just-read list in no way represents order or even orderly intent. You may find me erudite on the subject of one book or author and totally clueless when it comes to another. I suppose I should attempt some sort of system, but I doubt it would work. No matter what I say I'm going to read next, I'll always respond when someone waves something different in front of my face and says, "Have you read this one?"

Putting Away Society

What great fun to have company: amiable relatives, a lovable baby, and an energetic dog the size of New Hampshire. Now, the morning after is here, and the mundane returns.

I don't mind the return of quiet; in fact, I need long stretches of it in order to be able to write. Still, the interruptions life provides are essential, too. Leaving my computer to its own devices for a day or two. Leaving my mind to weave stories in the unconscious or the subconscious--I'm not sure which one works for me, I just know it works. And giving my body other things to do seems to help, as well.

It's been a busy few days. Now, when society has gone back to wherever it goes, I am ready, re-energized and ready to start that next book, the one that fell into place while I was playing with the baby.

I Am a Mercan

That's how it sounds when some people say it.

Politics aside.

Religion aside.

Culture aside.

Economics aside.

Enjoy the weekend that celebrates our accomplishments, our spirit, and our good points.

I'd Rather Be Right

One of the scary things about being published is that one might (probably will) get something wrong. There it is, for all the world to see, and it can't be fixed.

Something equally vexing to me is that people THINK you've got something wrong. One can't hunt them all down and argue the point, but--well, this one would like to.

It has been pointed out to me, twice now, that I used the word "dollar" in HER HIGHNESS' FIRST MURDER. Yeah, I did, in the idiom "squeeze the last dollar" out of something. It does sound anachronistic, and I probably would not have used it outside the idiom. Still, my unabridged Webster's Dictionary tells me that the word "dollar" was in use in the 1540s as a synonym for a five-shilling coin more often referred to as a crown.

The same two readers took issue with my reference to potatoes, arguing that they came to Europe later in history. Again, sources I find say that the Spanish brought the potato to Europe in 1536. I don't think it's unrealistic to say that ten years later, those useful little tubers might have made their way to a table or two in England.

I did get the rhododenrons wrong. A reader informed me that those flowers did not exist until the 1600s, and he is correct. Having visited England in summer, it seemed to me that they were elementals, existing since time immemorial, but then, I never had a botany class in my life.

I suppose I must accept that I can make mistakes, and that people will be critical, sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly. I suppose for some there is an urge to tell the author how wrong she is. I once saw an author almost attacked on an elevator by a man who went far past the bounds of decency to show how clever he was in finding mistakes in the author's work.

My guess is that authors in such situations have two reactions. The first is a defensive thought. "We're novelists, not scientists. We try, but we never said our purpose was anything but a good story." Second might be what one would like to say to the self-appointed critic: "When you write your book, have it edited multiple times, and get it published, send me a copy. I'll see what I can find to point out to you."