My Weblog

A writer's space

by Donna

I had this great idea for a blog entry.  I was going to take a picture of my writing space, and challenge my fellow Femmes Fatales and our readers to send pictures of their writing spaces, and I could post them and we could have this wonderful insight into the nature of our work and our minds and our lives. 

And then I picked up the digital camera and looked around and said "What the hell was I thinking of?"

I should have remembered the time a photographer from Virginia Living Magazine came to take a photo of me for a profile.  We talked on the phone, and he blithely shared his plan of taking the picture in the most logical setting for a writer--in my work space. In my office.  At my desk.

I cleaned for two days.

I was pretty proud of my office when I ushered the photographer in. I beamed as he looked around it.

"We need to find a less cluttered setting." he said.

We settled for the library.  (In a normal person's house, it would be one of the three bedrooms). "You have too many paperbacks," he told me, or at least too many paperbacks on the shelves he wanted to use as a backdrop for my photo.  I think he was hinting for me to rearrange books so these two five-foot-tall, thirty-inch-wide shelves were filled with hardbacks.  If so, he hinted in vain.  But he liked the quality of the light through the lime-green sheers at the windows.  He put some kind of filter in the camera to keep the lovely aqueous quality of the light while filtering out the lime green tint. It was a long, if interesting day.

Looking through the lens of my own camera, I can see his point.  My office is cluttered. I don't normally see the clutter that clearly--it's part of my life.  But through the camera...arg.

Apparently I'm not the only person fascinated by other writers' spaces.  Photographer and writer Jill Krementz has done an entire book of photos of writers' desks--she is reported to have a collection of photographs of 1500 writers' offices.  She puts out an annual desk calendar featuring a different writer each week.  And The Guardian has an ongoing feature on writers' rooms.

I've bookmarked this site for ongoing study  I covet some of these rooms.  Some of them could give me an acute inferiority complex if I let them. How do these people live and write in such relative tidiness?  Even when the rooms are cluttered, it seems to be organized, purposeful clutter. Literary or cultural clutter.  Classy clutter. "A small cameo of Tolstoy that I bought in his house in Moscow and a bronze relief of Dickens, half obscured by the computer screen, that was my mother's." "On its top there is a brass celestial globe bought in a street market in Mumbai." "A Picasso lithograph of Arthur Rimbaud, done in 1960."

I have a bust of Robert E.Lee that I found knocking around my parents' house when I began clearing it out.  I keep meaning to ask my mother where it came from. It feels like a prop for a character I haven't invented yet. I have the nicely perforated target from one of my two field trips to a firing range--I figure it might scare off the more nervous burglars. A framed copy of a letter from my publisher transmitting the signed contracts for SEX GEESE A-SLAYING. A Wolfsbane and Mistletoe mug I got from Toni and Charlaine, with a fetching little stuffed werewolf in it.  A toy black sheep.  Pictures of my nephews. Action figures. All meaningful, amusing, or useful items, but through the camera's lens, they don't quite add up to a decor.

I found myself wondering how many days those other writers tidied before the photographers showed up. Some of them probably live in minimalist bliss.  Others are honest enough to admit that their rooms don't normally look this tidy. 

And I threw in the towel.  I took the picture above and said, "This is as much of my writing space as I'm going to let anyone see."

For now. But I just turned in the revisions for a book, and while I need to start the next one all too soon, I've got a little space for tidying.

That's another kind of writer's space--the illusory sense of freedom we get between one deadline and another. Right now, with that manuscript back in New York, anything and everything seems possible.  Including the notion that I just might turn my office into something I wouldn't mind seeing in a 7x9 glossy duotone.

 

Writers block? Or a blocked writer?

by Toni L.P. Kelner

I recently read something on a writer's message board that pissed me off:

There is no such thing as writer's block...if you are a writer to begin with.

I get really cranky when anybody spouts absolutes about writing, particularly anything in which the phrase "real writer" is included or implied. You see, I've met an awful lot of writers, ranging from the authors of dozens of books to people who've written three or four unpublished short stories to people who haven't finished a thing but still aren't giving up. And I have two observations:

• Not one of them has been a hologram or astral projection. In other words, they're all REAL writers.
• No two of those writers approach writing the same way. Some write a book or more a year, and some just barely manage a book a decade. Some swear by outlines, and some swear at outlines. Some write every day, rain or shine, and some write only when a deadline looms. Some...  Well, you get the point. Each writer has his or her own way of working.

So for anybody to say there is no such thing as writers block is ridiculous because I know plenty of writers who've had to deal with it. It's been painful and frustrating, and again, neither a hologram nor an astral projection.

Now my own theory of writers block is this. Writers block is not a disease--it's a symptom.  If I find myself having to pure drag the words out of myself when I'm in the middle of a project, or get so stuck that I can't produce anything at all, then I know there's something wrong. It could be related to the project: the pace is dragging, or a previously feisty protagonist is acting uncharacteristically wimpy, or the logic of the plot isn't holding together.  Or it could be something unrelated: not enough sleep, worries about family, anxiety about pretty much anything. But if I can isolate what's blocking me, I can usually get past it, and that's how I advise writers who ask me about writer's block.

Does this work for everybody? Of course not. I don't even know for sure that it works for anybody other than me. In fact, I doubt that there's anything that works for every writer. But I'm not going to say that, because it would be an absolute, and I've already said how those affect me.

About the only absolute I will accept when it comes to writing is this: If anybody ever tells you that you HAVE to do something to be a writer, or that you HAVE to work a particular way, ignore them. To make any such pronouncement about writing is absolutely wrong.

New Writing Book!

by Kris

For those of you who planned to jumpstart your writing this January, but who now find yourself stuck, I have a book to recommend: The 101 Habits of Highly Successful Novelists: Insider Secrets from Top Writers by Andrew McAleer.

Though The 101 Habits of Highly Successful Novelists is bound between covers — and therefore qualifies as a book, as I indicated — the term, "book," doesn’t do it justice. In 101, McAleer has assembled advice on a variety of topics appealing to novelists of every stripe — in all genres, at all levels. It better resembles a printed writers’ conference, and one with quite an illustrious faculty.

To name just a small part of that “faculty,” 101 offers advice from…Elmore Leonard, Gregory McDonald, Lawrence Block, Rhys Bowen and Mary Higgins Clark — bestselling crime writers…James M. Cain and Bill Pronzini — MWA Grand Masters…Suzanne Brockman, Rebecca Brandewyne and Joan Johnston — NYT bestselling Romance authors…R.A. Salvatore — bestselling fantasy author…William Link — successful TV producer of Murder, She Wrote…and many others. Apologies to all the memorable names in the writing world that I have left out.  Also included in that list of contributors are Sister Femme, Hank Phillippi Ryan, and me. I can’t speak for Hank, but I’m honored to be included in this group, and especially to find my name is listed on the cover.

Boston lawyer and coauthor of the bestselling Mystery Writing in a Nutshell, 101 author, Andrew McAleer is also the author of novels Double Endorsement and Bait and Switch, and editor of Austin Layman’s Crimestalker Casebook magazine. He knows what writers need.

So, if you’re having trouble finding inspiration, perhaps thoughtful responses from Jill Barnett, Kit Ehrman, S.J. Rozan or Bruce Balfour will show you the way.

Or maybe you have trouble finding time to write, or even a place to write — Robert Goldsborough and Hank Phillippi Ryan have tips for you there.

Perhaps tasks like creating characters, writing dialog, or the necessity of building in sufficient conflict have you stumped — you’ll find excellent advice in 101 for dealing with all of those topics.

Some chapters offer strategies for developing the habit of writing regularly, setting reasonable goals, and meeting deadlines, while others deal with editing and the business of publication, including creating pitches and self-promotion ideas.

Whatever your challenges, you’ll find thought-provoking answers here from those who’ve met and overcome those same challenges. So take a tip from those whodunit, and ignite your writing with The 101 Habits of Highly Successful Novelists by Andrew McAleer.

Then I felt like some watcher of the skies....

 

 

 

By Hank Phillippi Ryan

 

 

 

So? Is this the first day of the rest of our lives? (It is, of course, as is every day. ) But you know what I mean. Watching Washington DC.Tuesday,  along with millions and millions of people, was clearly a different kind of first day. We were all there, for one thing, in some way or another. It was a first for all of us. Together.

 

Remember the moon landing? I remember going outside, that night, and peering up at the moon. Trying to get some perspective. Which was impossible. But we all did that together. That’s the closest comparison I can come up with. To go  where no human has been before.. 

 

We could list all of our first times, some we can share (First day of college! Beyond terrifying…) and some we won’t  (Tim E., you know who you are).  Wedding. Baby. Drivers license. Hangover. Publication. Dinner party. Job.  But those are individual first times. And our lives, if we’re lucky, are full of them.  Some we remember. Some, we won’t.

 

I do remember the first time I remember seeing Lake Michigan. Of course I’d been there before that, as a kid in Chicago, but  I might have been—four or five? When I remember putting a toe in and thinking about all the fish.  (Hey, I was a kid. You can’t expect me to be profound.) I picture it, now, tiny me and big water. My first time realizing I was in the world.

Tuesday, my Dad called me from Washington DC. My Mom called me from Indianapolis. We'd all been together at Lake Michigan. We just wanted to tell each other we were still connected. And sharing another first.

 

 

 

Someone, Doris Kearns Goodwin, I think, said the other day (on TV, not to me) that this inauguration would be more about poetry than politics. She meant it as a metaphor, but it rocketed me to my bookshelves. To read again a favorite poem that somehow connects  to what’s happened. It’s not  what you’d expect.  But I almost burst into tears reading it today.

 

 

 

 

 

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer 

  by John Keats

 Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
 And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
 Round many western islands have I been
 Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
 Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
 That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne; 
 Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
 Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
 Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
 When a new planet swims into his ken;
 Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
 He star'd at the Pacific — and all his men
 Look'd at each other with a wild surmise —
 Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

  

Now, all of us are looking at each other in wild surmise…we’re not silent, of course. But we’re astonished by the possibilities.

 

Where did you watch the inauguration? What will you remember?

Plot Therapy

by Mary

Does your manuscript need a shrink?

Do you sometimes need a little help in figuring out what happens next in your story?

Yesterday, I got together with a few writer friends at a local bookstore. Beth Terrell-Hicks, Michael Salisbury, Marilyn Fisher and I met to try a new experiment. Another local author had been to a Maui Writers Workshop where attendees formed groups to help each other with their plot problems. So, we thought we'd give it a try.

Each of us brought copies of a synopsis of a work-in-progress for the others. We'd read through one, then the author would tell us the story. This was a good way to find differences between what we'd written down and what we knew in our heads. Not always the same thing. This was a big help to me. Sometimes I get so involved in the section I'm working on that I don't see big gaping holes elsewhere.

Two of us brought short stories, the other two novel synopses. Both worked great. We asked questions while a story was being told, often changing directions or skipping around the plot, but it didn't matter. We had no rules. If we wanted to know more about a character, we stopped and talked about that. If a plot was tangled up (raising hand) we might get everything straightened out, or we moved to other aspects.

This worked fine for us because we were already friends. I'm not sure I'd try it with strangers.

So if you get in a rut and think you'd like outside advice but don't want to commit to regular writers group meetings, you might want to give this a try with a few buds. I'm already looking forward to another Plot Therapy session!

But not until I finish this story ....

Serendipity

Shirley Damsgaard, today's guest blogger, didn't try her hand at writing until the tender age of 48. Her first attempt was a disastrous romance novella, and she might have given up had it not been for her late husband’s suggestion that she give mysteries a try, pointing out her knack at spoiling movies for him by deducing how they would end. She combined this suggestion with her life long interest in the paranormal, and Ophelia and Abby were born. Witch Way to Murder, her first book, was a nominee for the Agatha Award for best first mystery, and has been followed by five more delightful books in the series: Charmed to Death,The Trouble with Witches, Witch Hunt, The Witch Is Dead, and now The Witch's Grave.

Join us in welcoming Shirley!

“Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely.”

The above quote is how I began my acknowledgments for the latest Ophelia and Abby Mystery, THE WITCH’S GRAVE, and it pretty much describes my career as an author! (Another favorite quote that at times seems appropriate is “even a blind pig finds an acorn now and again,” but we won’t go there! 8) ) Ever since I started this gig seven years ago, I’ve met who I needed to meet...when I needed to meet them.

Case in point...Ophelia and Abby, in addition to practicing folk magick, are also psychics. Dreams play an important part in Ophelia’s life. (Of course, she never knows if her dreams are glimpses of the past...maybe of the future, or if her subconscious is simply misfiring!) In THE WITCH’S GRAVE, Ophelia is having some really good dreams of a hunky guy, and much to her surprise, she actually meets him. But before she can explore the attraction, a shot rings out and sets her on a path to find out who and why. And while she’s running around trying to discover the truth, she begins to dream about Paris during the Nazi occupation.

Okay, I live in the middle of Iowa, in a small town—do you know how hard it is to find out stuff about Paris circa 1941??? It’s not like a lot of people around here have been to Paris, myself included, let alone there during the war. And there are things one needs to know when creating a scene’s atmosphere. For example—did Paris suffer from air raids as London did during the Blitz? Were the street lights on? What about the cars...did they use their headlights at night? Or was there a black out? (I couldn’t write a scene where my characters were strolling along at night with the lights of the city reflecting off the Seine if there were no lights!) Were there food shortages? What did people wear? Was there garbage in the streets? How would a character get into the Catacombs? There were hundreds of little details that I was spending hours trying to research. I began to think I’d made a very bad choice using Paris as a location, but it was too late to change the plot! I was stuck!

THEN I received an email from a reader. She told me how much she and her daughter were enjoying the series, and as a Franco-Anglo family, she encouraged her girls to read in English as much as possible. AND if I were ever in Paris, they’d love to meet me. Wait a second—did she say PARIS??? It took me about two seconds to fire back an email asking for help to which they graciously agreed! Barbara Grasset, her daughter Fiona, and her husband, Luc-Oliver provided all sorts of information. And get this...one of Luc-Oliver’s hobbies happens to be military history!! He knew all about Paris in 1941. (Yes, the cars used their headlights, but they put blue cellophane over them to dim the light.) Barbara checked out the garbage thing for me at City Hall and Fiona found out information about the Catacombs! So talk about serendipity!!! Barbara’s email was that in spades!

How about you? Has serendipity ever played a role in your life? Share your story and we’ll enter your name in a contest to win a signed copy of THE WITCH’S GRAVE!

Got to fly for now—thanks to Donna and all the Femmes for inviting me to guest blog! Take care and have a good one!

Best,
Shirley

(To enter Shirley's contest, just describe your moment of serendipity in a comment!)

Demon of domesticity

by Dana

Most days, I am the domestic equivalent of the goose-girl, best left outside with the animals, away from polite company and the good china.  Sometimes I get promoted to scullery wench, allowed to do the washing up and vegetable chopping (although with supervision and the knives counted later).  But between December 20 and 31st, something happens, and I turn into a mad, quasi-Victorian chatelaine, obsessed with sorting, organizing, cleaning, overhauling, making lists.  Imagine the housekeeper character in Gosford Park on a triple espresso, and you'll get the picture. 

It happens every year, without fail, this unwanted, unexpected housewifery.  I don’t know why. 

I’m not talking about the usual holiday madness of shopping, visiting, parties, and baking (of which, I admit, I do my share).  I’m not talking about work deadlines or the usual housework or cleaning off my desk in the hope of finding an unused iTunes card or (oh, please, let it be so) a cache of unmolested chocolates.  I’m talking about some seriously obsessive stuff. 

Witness how I became fixated on the notion that I absolutely had to sort, clean, and organize the spice cabinet by the New Year.  I needed to know where we were in terms of our store of turmeric.  Was the cream of tartar was present and accounted for?  Why were there two half-used jars of poppy seeds, and why on earth did I care?  And yet…

And how it suddenly occurred to me that bad things would happen if I did not wash the sweaters and shirts that needed to be done by hand.  I was possessed by the demon of Woolite.  Oddly, the urge to iron those shirts hasn’t hit.  I don’t make the rules.  Household saints smile upon me, but inconsistently. 

Alphabetizing the books, cleaning out the medicine cabinet, culling the sock drawer.  The cat, who admires my usual sloth amidst papers and books, gets nervous at these times.  “Yo, Lunch Meat!”  (She calls me “Lunch Meat.”)  “You should simmer down, maybe crank it back half a notch?  You’re gonna blow a gasket, and then who’ll get my kibble?”

Is it the idea of readying for the New Year, setting the tone for 2009, or is it something to do with crossing things off the list for 2008?  I like lists, but why things I honestly don’t sweat the rest of the year?  Could it be a deadline, the clock ticking down?  I’m a sucker for a good deadline, but it’s not like anyone has spare time at the end of the year.  As a kid I used to be superstitious about making sure to buy books at the end of the year, to ensure I’d have plenty of books in the new year.  I still do that (I do love a good excuse), but this ain’t that.

I honestly don’t know.  Do you have the “must-do’s” at the end of the year?  What are your pet obsessions?  Or is the cat right, and should I be worried? 

(In any case, Happy New Year!)