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My new year's resolutions

by Donna

Actually, that title's a misnomer.  Because once again, I'm not making any new year's resolutions.

I used to make resolutions.  I'd spend much of December contemplating what my resolutions would be.  And they would always turn out to be the same old resolutions.  Writing more.  Weighing less.  Getting fit.  Getting fiscally fit.  Being a better housekeeper.  Being a better friend.  Being a better citizen of the universe.

I'm not dissing any of these resolutions.  All worth doing, and my hat is off to anyone who makes and keeps any of them.  But for me, resolutions never worked. 

I've found something that does work, though.   I set goals.

And if you think the difference is merely a trivial matter of wordsmithing . . . well, wordsmithing's what I do for a living.  Nothing trivial about it.

Words have power.  For me, the connotations of the word resolution almost guarantee failure.  You make a resolution.  You keep a resolution . . . or you break it.  I've never heard of anyone mending a resolution.  It can be done, but once broken, a resolution is never quite the same.  How lovely to be able to say "I haven't bitten my nails since New Year's Day" or "I've written at least a page every day this year!"  Until the day when you forget and nibble, or have a three day case of flu.   "I've only bitten my nails half a dozen times since New Year's Day" just doesn't have the same magic.  "I've written at least a page every day except for when I had the flu, and the day my car broke doiwn and I didn't get home till midnight, and that week at the beach when my laptop was broken and . . . "  You get the idea.

Resolutions are all or nothing.  I imagine that when you break a resolution, it makes a sort of brittle tinkling sound, like shattering glass, that you could hear if you listened closely enough. Mending it's the last thing you think of; all you want to do is sweep up the pieces, dump them in the trash, and pretend the beautiful resolution never existed.  "Oh, well; maybe I can try again next year."

Which is a pretty stupid way to think if you're, say, eleven months from the next opportunity to make another new year's resolution, but a lot of us think that way.

Goals, now.  They're not brittle.  They're weighty and obdurate, like stone monuments.  They may be so far off that you can barely see them in the distance and can't imagine how you'll ever get there.  So you start plodding toward them.  Plod steadily enough and the odds are you'll reach them. 

After many years of making resolutions to write more, to finish various projects, and to get published, I sat down and made it a goal to finish the first draft of my book that year. And then I thought about the path it would take to reach that goal—I figured out how many words I had to write to finish, and then I divided that into twelve monthly chunks, and I started plodding along.  It didn't matter whether I wrote ever day, as long as I wrote often enough for long enough of finish each month's quota.

That year, I finished Murder with Peacocks, submitted it to the St. Martin's contest and it was the start of my now decade-long writing career.

I plan on setting a few goals for 2009.  I haven't done it yet, because I've got a book due in a few days.  My superstitious, dreamer side—the side that still thinks there's something magic about the turning of the year--wants to take time away from my revising and polishing to come up with my goals for the coming years.  My practical side, which sets goals and keeps on till it achieves them, says there's time enough to work on my 2009 goals when the book's in my editor's hands.  Since that's the side that has finished fourteen books in ten years--soon to be fifteen--I listen to that part.

But I don't want to make the dreamer side too miserable, so I'm writing tonight about goals and resolutions.

So what are your 2009 goals—or resolutions, or plans, or hopes and dreams?

Filling the Glass

by Kris

Are you an optimist or a pessimist, or something in between? How’s that working out for you?

I used to see the glass as half empty. Half empty? At times all I saw were a few drops evaporating at the bottom. But if you think an old dog can’t learn to beg from the table at the eleventh hour, you’re wrong. Learned optimism and I are moving forward (mostly) in harmony now.

The thing is, even when I was a devout pessimist, the end of the year was always the most cheerful time for me. I started giving thanks for everything that worked in my life at Thanksgiving, and kept that up till the end of the year, at which time I would start failing at the resolutions I didn’t feel quite positive enough to write down. But now that I’m a more upbeat person in general, gratitude for everything and everyone just flows out all the time, and at this time of year, I’m practically drowning in it.

So…because I now believe we should express our gratitude for the happy circumstances in our lives, here's a tiny part of my end-of-year gratitude:

My wonderful husband and darling fur-babies…always.

I’m grateful for the friendships I share with the Femmes, as well as all my other friends, both near and far.

I appreciate the support of all of you who stop by this blog to read our thoughts, leave comments, and mostly to those of you who buy and enjoy our books.

I’m grateful for my Girls-Night-Out group because it’s not everyone who appreciates the value of half-priced wine night.

I’m glad to report that my bookstore, The Well Red Coyote, is going great guns. I’ve always heard that books do well in recessionary times, and while I never wanted to test that theory, I’m happy to report that it seems to be true.

And I’m especially thrilled to share that I just sold the first book in a new woo-woo series, High Crimes on the Celestial Plane; those of you who’ve read my Urban Fantasy stories in Medium of Murder and The Rose in the Snow, know that High Crimes on the Celestial Plane promises to introduce a whole new crew of wacky and wonderful magical creatures. If you haven’t read any of my Samantha and Annabelle stories, you can find one here.

Mostly, I’m grateful that I generally wake up feeling eager to face what always threatens to be a chaotic day ahead, and most days even embracing the chaos. My resolution — written down this time — is to bring more of the same harmony and optimism into my life…and lose weight and exercise more, of course, but I know those things might not happen.

Too corny? Too bad. ‘Tis the season. If you can’t gush about good things now, when can you?

I hope you’ve all enjoyed happy and healthy holidays, and despite the challenging times we’re facing these days, that you’ll find loads to be grateful for in 2009.

If you feel like sharing...what do you want to make happen in your life during this coming year?

On the First day of Revisions

 by Hank Phillippi Ryan 

Revisions. It's like you get a second, a third, a fourth chance to make your story good. I adore revisions. And I'm almost almost finished with the ones for DRIVE TIME. When something works, it's such a sweet moment. I even like it when the klunkers appear. I wrote 'em, yes, and I can delete 'em. That's power.

 

There is, of course, always someone watching over your shoulder. My watcher is my lovely editor. She's supportive and enthusiastic and always makes me think the good ideas were mine.

 

She's wonderful.

 

 

 

 But if there's a song about revisions, and I think there should be, it would be a better song if things weren't always rosy. 

 

 

 

See if you can guess the tune.  And sing along.

 

 

 

 

On the first day of revisions, my editor said to me:

A partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the second day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Write a little faster

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the third day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Try to use some humor

Write a little faster

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the fourth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Make your chapters shorter

Try to use some humor

Write a little faster

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the fifth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the sixth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the seventh day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Seven chapters bore me

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the eighth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Eight titles vetoed

Seven chapters bore me

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

 

On the ninth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Nine new characters needed

Eight titles vetoed

Seven chapters bore me

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

 

On the tenth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Ten motivations missing

Nine new characters needed

Eight titles vetoed

Seven chapters bore me

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

On the eleventh day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Eleven conflicts iffy         

Ten motivations missing

Nine new characters needed

Eight titles vetoed

Seven chapters bore me

 Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

 

On the twelfth day of revisions, my editor said to me:

Twelve months for the sequel

Eleven conflicts iffy

Ten motivations missing

Nine more characters needed

Eight titles vetoed

Seven chapters bore me

Six weeks til deadline

Find a better plot!

Make your chapters shorter

Write a little faster

Try to use some humor

And a partridge wouldn’t like a pear tree.

 

 

 

Happy New Year to all!

TEASER

Note:  Our guest blogger today, is Jan Brogan.  A journalist for twenty years, Jan is a former staff writer at The Providence Journal-Bulletin in Rhode Island and The Worcester Telegram and Gazette in Massachusetts and has worked as a correspondent for The Boston Globe.  Her first novel, Final Copy, which won The Drood Review of Mystery’s Editors’ Choice award, was named one of the best eight mysteries published in 2001.  A Confidential Source (Mysterious Press, April 2005 ) received a rave review in The New York Times Book Review and was chosen by The Mystery Guild Book Club as an alternate spring selection. Yesterday’s Fatal, published by St Martin’s Press in May, 2007, was named a “Killer Book” by the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association and one of the summer’s best reads by Northeast Public Radio.

Her new book, Teaser, will be published by St. Martin’s Press in December.  The Femmes Fatales are delighted to welcome Jan!  

I was at a dinner party about two years ago, when my neighbor, a mom, complained about another mother who bought her 14-year-old daughter $600 Chanel shoes. The biggest problem, of course, was that now my neighbor’s daughter felt deprived because she couldn’t have $600 shoes.

At first I was appalled. My own mother had tried her hardest to teach me never to spend excessively on clothes. It didn’t work, but did give a zing of guilt any time I stood before a cash register in a retail store.

Back to the shoes. After the shock wore off, I filed away the information. Because it made sense, didn’t it?  I’d watched Sex and the City, where the main character Carrie Bradshaw lives and dies for Monolo Blahnik shoes. Up until that moment, I’d thought that kind of shopping only went on in Manhattan, but when you think about it, it’s only logical that when Sex and the City moved from the premium channel (HBO) to basic cable (TBS and BRAVO) shoe worship would filter down to teenage girls.

A little less logical that any parents out there would actually pay for the shoes, but still…

My new mystery, Teaser, (St. Martin’s Minotaur) which is just hitting the bookstores now, is all about teenagers and social networking. My protagonist, newspaper reporter Hallie Ahern is trying to keep herself off the poker sites by trawling around the chatrooms in her social networking site instead.  She comes across a provocative video clip featuring two local teenage girls and convinces her editor she has a front-page expose for parents on teenagers and their webcams.

Hallie’s investigation eventually takes her to some very dark corners of both the Internet and Newport, Rhode Island. When girls start disappearing, her story becomes a crusade.

Early in the book, Whitney, Hallie’s 15-year old source, tries to explain her motivation for her webcam performances. She comes from the East Side, the affluent side of Providence. She doesn’t want for attention or material goods, but still, her parents don’t spoil her as much as she’d like. The guys she meets online are nice, generous. Sometimes they send gift certificates to the mall.

Then she goes to the closet and pulls out her most prized possessions: Chanel and Jimmy Choo shoes.

Scary, but only too believable.

If you want to meet Whitney, take a look at this quick video trailer.

The Cheapest Way to Travel

Not in a plane, not by a train, not in a bus -- it's too much fuss -- don't ride in a car, you'll go too far. A book is best; stay home and rest.

Okay, Dr. Seuss homage aside, the best way to entertain yourself in this economic climate is with a book. Even if I didn't write them, I'd believe that. Since I was very young, books have formed the most reliable form of enjoyment. They're portable, they can be read more than once, you can loan them out and receive another one in return, and they contain plots set in every country in the world, and quite a few set in worlds that are sheer invention.

You can carry a concealed book without a permit.

You can own as many books as you like without getting a license.

You don't have to feed a book, or walk it, or get it shots. It never throws up or sheds.

A book takes up less space than a ping-pong table or a television set. Granted, taken en masse the story changes, but there are always shelves and storage boxes.

A book will never betray you to the secret police, or search your garbage can for old bank statements.

A book will stay where you put it, and it never changes size.

You don't have to send a book to summer camp, or help it sell cookies. And you never have to make two dozen cupcakes for a book to carry to class. In fact, books don't have birthdays.

Okay, I'm just getting silly here. I have children and pets, and I love them. I would hardly trade them for a book! Well, maybe a signed first edition of . . . No, I won't go there.

The point I'm trying to make, and it's not a subtle one, is that though this nation is undoubtedly in the middle of economic woes, there is a relatively cheap and reliable source of entertainment readily available in bookstores and libraries across the country, within reach of almost everyone. You only have to drive far enough to obtain this method of travel, and you can keep it for a long time.

This week, I've been in the frozen reaches of Russia finding bodies in the snow. Next, I plan to become a werewolf. My physical travel may be limited, but my mental travel . . . I've got frequent flyer miles galore, on that.

Getting schooled

by Dana

Recently I did a talk at a local school, for fifth and sixth-graders, with some students from other grades.  I've done lectures at colleges about writing, writing conferences, and private groups, but those kids asked me some of the best questions I've ever been asked.  They were great questions because they were directly to the point and deep:  I'd never had to articulate the answers before.  I figure since I've been raving about those questions ever since my talk, it's worth sharing a few of them here. 

1.  I write mostly dark, dramatic stuff, but I think I have a good sense of humor.  How do I learn to write something funny without coming off dumb?

Humor is one of the hardest things to do.  First off, you have to dare to be dumb, just to get something down on paper and try it out.  You can always edit it.  You probably did this when you started writing in the first place, so continue to trust the people you show your work to, and continue to trust your own instincts.  But before that, you have to decide what kind of funny you are:  are you pie-in-the-face slapstick?  Are you absurdly, surrealist funny?  Are you sarcastic funny?  Find the things that make you laugh and study them.  Then try it out.  Make sure you laugh, and then practice or edit until you can make others laugh too.

2.  You mentioned that you had to change the things you took from real life when you put them into your books because they didn't translate well into a written story.  Can you give an example of why and how you do that?

Here's the thing:  in real life, a guy with a gun who is swearing at you is scary.  But if he didn't have the gun, he'd just be a guy swearing at you, which might be scary, or it might seem crazy and/or even a little funny.  In the book, you're not confronted directly with a gun, all you have is the words, so in this case, the scene loses its impact.  What I think you need to do is make the guy's language and physical behavior hard to read or intimidating, giving those actions the menace and threat to show you how dangerous he is.  That's a good example of showing versus telling, because just having the gun would "telling," and you need to demonstrate the danger a couple of different ways to get your reader believing it.  

3.  I like to write sports stories, but people say I should write other things too.  I'm not sure I want to, but how can I try?

It's always good to try new things, because you don't know what you can do unless you jump in.  And you learn a lot from the experience.  But having a talent or affection for one kind of work doesn't mean you have to abandon it when you try something else.  Is it the competition you like to write about?  The physical aspects of the sports?  Is it the mental game?  You can always apply these to other themes.  One great example of this is Dick Francis, who was a jockey.  He had characters who were jockeys in his books, but he also focused on other aspects of horse racing:  the gambling, the cheating, the money, the rivalries. 

These kids blew me away!  What are your favorite writing questions and answers?

A Christmas gift idea

by Donna Andrews

Looking for some Christmas gift ideas for your friends and relatives?  I have a great one. 

Give them our books.

And by "our books," I don’t just mean books by the Femmes Fatales.  Although we’d be tickled pink (or should that be red and green?) if you did.  Especially since several of us do have holiday books.  My Six Geese A-Slaying, for example, and Elaine Viets’s  Murder with All the Trimmings.  Wolfsbane and Mistletoe, edited by Femmes Charlaine Harris and Toni L.P. Kelner, features stories by several of us.  Dana Cameron has a story in Sugarplums and Scandal, if you missed it last year.  Good reading all. 

But I digress.  Actually, by "our books" I mean all of us--the writers you love.  Mystery writers, yeah.  And science fiction, fantasy, romance, mainstream, even nonfiction writers.   We could all use the help.  Like so many other industries, publishing is going through some hard times.  Publishing houses are announcing layoffs, which means some of us are mourning the departure of editors and other staff with whom we’ve worked for years.  We know our publishers have to do some belt-tightening, but it still hurts.  And the publishers won’t be announcing the other kind of belt-tightening that we all know is coming—when authors we love don’t get a new contract.  But it’s happening. Maybe will be happening a lot more.  We’re all hoping and praying it doesn’t happen to us.

I never quite know what to say when someone asks me if I know why so-and-so stopped writing the such-and-such series.  Because I probably do know—even if I haven’t talked to the writer in question.  Very few writers stop writing a series because they lose interest.  They stop because they don’t get a new contract.  And they don’t get a new contract because the publisher didn’t sell enough books.

So buy books.  For yourself.  For your friends.

Not sure what your friends want?  Steer them to Indie Bound—its site has a neat new Book Wish List feature that lets family and friends drop those oh-so-subtle hints to each other.  Okay, maybe it’s not all THAT subtle to say "Hey, check out my Indie Bound Book Wish List!  I just added a whole lot of new stuff to it."  But you get the idea.  Encourage family and friends to start their wish lists.  Share your wish list with them.

The other great thing about the Indie Bound site is that it helps you find local independent bookstores and businesses.  Independent, as in owned by individual people—often friends and neighbors—like Femme Kris Neri, who with husband Joe runs the Well Red Coyote in Sedona, Arizona.  Not that I don’t know a lot of wonderful book-loving people who work in the big chain stores, but now that I’m self-employed as a full-time writer, I have a special place in my heart for the brave souls who are still trying to buck the tide that is trying to homogenize our retail landscape.  Bookstores that stock the books they and their customers love, instead of what headquarters dictates.  Bookstores where not only does everyone know your name, they also know the names of your favorite authors.  Bookstores where you walk in and the staff will tell you about the new books that have come in that you might like--and most of the time, they'll be right.

If everyone buys just a couple more books this Christmas, will it turn the tide?  Keep your local independent bookstore from closing?  Keep your favorite writers in print?  Maybe it won’t.

But then again, maybe it will.  And couldn’t we all have a lot of fun trying?