Look Who’s Talking

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This week at The Stiletto Gang, we’re exploring the writing process. Four authors, four different approaches to producing mysteries.

I’m Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David. In the five years that we’ve been collaborating together, Rhonda and I have often had this same conversation.

Me: So then what happens?

Rhonda: I don’t know until I hear the characters talk.

It’s taken me years to realize (and I confess that I’m slow in gaining these insights) that my writing is plot driven; for the Southern half, and she’ll speak for herself on Thursday, it’s character driven. I have to start out with a general idea of the whole storyline; whereas Rhonda insists that the characters will tell her what happens next once she gets them down on paper. Actually, that’s not a bad combination. It’s probably why, despite repeating the exact same conversation at least a dozen times in every book or story, our collaboration works so well (that and the fact that the Southern half has a wicked sense of humor).

I suspect my approach is the result of 20+ years of writing nonfiction books. Publishers insist on seeing a detailed Table of Contents, as well as a sample chapter, before forking over any money. There should be no big surprises when you write a nonfiction book. Of course, you’ll learn new things as you delve deeper into the topic; the emphasis may shift a little from what you proposed. But basically you know the ending before you start.

As with any successful partnership, both halves of Evelyn David have learned to compromise (early and often). Before we start writing, we talk through the A, B, and C plots of the book, know who our villain will be and what is his/her motivation. But it’s a loose outline subject to change – which is exactly what happened in both Murder Off the Books and Murder Takes the Cake. Rhonda was right. As the characters talked to us, we learned that the murderer we thought had done all those dastardly deeds couldn’t have killed a fly. About halfway through each mystery, the characters told us who was the “real” killer. I had to put aside my careful outline and listen to these chatty characters. They knew what had really happened.

As for my daily writing process. It involves a least a couple loads of laundry, maybe an online game of Spider Solitaire, two or three tournaments of online (no money involved) Texas Hold ‘Em – and then yes, procrastination finished, I write a couple of scenes that I’ve plotted out in my head and discussed with the Southern half. But I’ve learned to listen to what the characters are telling me to do. Sometimes they say, chuck the outline, here’s the real skinny…and then I hit the delete button and start over.

Rhonda would be so proud.

Evelyn David

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

The Poison Lady

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The Stiletto Gang is thrilled to welcome Luci Hansson Zahray, aka The Poison Lady. A popular speaker on the mystery circuit, Luci’s lectures on common household drugs and insecticides and their detectability (or undetectability, as the case may be) has made her the go-to girl on all things poison. Lucy is a toxicologist and pharmacist in Texas and talks about her one of her favorite topics today here at our humble blog…Tylenol. Welcome, Luci!

TYLENOL! Anyone who has ever heard me speak, knows I consider Tylenol (acetaminophen)to be the most dangerous drug in the home. Its not the most toxic, but it is the most dangerous. Acetaminophen is widely perceived to be safe. It is not. The lethal dose 50 percent of the time (LD50) has been lowered 3 times in the last 20 years: from 20 grams to 12grams to 8 grams (16 extra strength tablets equals 8 grams). The dose currently considered to be safe is 4 grams per day; however the newest recommendations will lowering the dose to less than 3 gms.

Because acetaminophen is a “hidden” extra ingredient in many products, it is extremely easy for someone to overdose. Many over the counter sleep products, cough and cold, sinus, headache and arthritis medications contain acetaminophen. Percocet, Vicodin, Lortab and Darvocet all contain either 325 or 500 milli-grams per tablet. With a recommended dose of 1 to 2 of those tablets every 4 to 6 hours, the maximum acetaminophen dose is readily exceeded. Individuals who abuse pain medications will reach toxic levels of acetaminophen long before toxic levels of narcotics are reached.

Sulfhydryl, SH, which given rotten eggs their smell are necessary in the metabolism of acetaminophen. In overdoses, acetaminophen depletes available sulfhydrl groups in liver cells, causing cell death and hepatic necrosis. After an overdose the patient may be asymphtomatic or may have mild nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain for 24 hours. The next 48 to 72 hours are generally without symphtoms; after that irreversible liver damage occurs. Death, in acute overdoses, from liver failure is painful and prolonged. Acetylcystine, a sylfhydryl donator, is used as an antidote if the overdose is caught in the first 72 hours.

Because of it’s general precepcition of safety acetaminophen is often employed in suicide attemps destroies your liver. Acetaminophen is synergistic with alcohol. I love trivia about poison; cabbage decreases the effectiveness (but not the toxicity) of acetaminophen. Since this blog is supposed to be about poison…. consider acetaminophen one of the 50 ways to leave your lover: “Oh honey, you look like you have had a hard day. Sit down and I will bring you a drink and some Tylenol.”

Luci Hansson Zahray

My Book

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Long before I wrote my first short story or novel, there was “My Book.”

About 15 years ago I started using a day planner regularly. Known to one and all as “My Book,” I keep my calendar, addresses (snail and e-mail), and important facts (size of vacuum cleaner bags, type of printer cartridges, etc) in there.

I like the Day Runner brand – Week-In-View – style with replaceable pages and a 7-ringed, leather zipped cover. It has to have a zipped cover so I can keep all the loose notes and folded bits of paper I add to the front or back of the book. For about a year I carried a copy of my Echelon contract around with me in “My Book.” Not sure I really needed daily access to it, but I did need to reference it a couple of times when I was travelling and my worn, much folded copy came in handy.

As much as I love computers and my Blackberry, one would think I would have made the leap from my pen and paper day planner to an electronic life monitor some time ago. I tried. Really I did. My father loves his Palm and gave me a basic model for Christmas some years back. I entered dates into the Palm but couldn’t give up my day planner. Where would I put all those bits of paper that people hand me? Where would I keep the copies of my hotel reservations, my coupons, meeting notes, and all those business cards that I need immediate access to?

“My Book” goes with me everywhere. If I forget and leave it in the car, I usually have to run out in the middle of the night and get it – there will be something in it that I need in order to finish a project, write a response to an email, or schedule a meeting. I have about two years worth of information in it at any one time. If I’m ever a person of interest in a crime and a detective wants to know what I was doing on any particular date, I’m ready! I can not only tell him where I was but what size air filters I was buying and whether or not that was “trash” day at my house. And yes, I do live in fear of someone stealing “My Book.” My only consolation is that it’s rather large and wouldn’t fit in someone’s pocket or purse.

Speaking of being ready, I need to order my 2010 inserts this month. I already have appointments and events to enter for next year.

How about you? How do you keep track of your life?

Evelyn David

Much Ado About Nothing (IMHO)

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I just finished watching the President’s address to our nation’s schoolchildren. You know, the one that generated such heated debate over the last week or so that several states and countless school districts decided not to show it. Even here, in my liberal little biosphere of a Village, the Superintendent of Schools sent out an email informing all parents that if anyone chose not to have their child watch the speech, they could opt out by sending an email to that child’s teacher.

My husband and I chose to let our children watch the speech. No—that’s wrong. We didn’t give it a second thought. It was a given that our kids would watch the speech. And yes, in the interest of full disclosure, I did vote for the guy (not that it’s anyone’s business but that seems to be a crucial part of the debate…along with the assumption that if you vote for someone you automatically agree with everything that person says or does. Not true, by the way.). But had a previous administration’s President spoken to our children, they would have watched that speech as well. President George H.W. Bush spoke to our schoolchildren in 1991; same for President Reagan in 1988. They were/are our Presidents. We need to listen to what they have to say and make our own judgments. And civic responsibility? It’s never too early to learn that.

So I’m interested to find out a) if the kids had a reaction to the speech and b) if they are interested in talking about it at all. Because I’ve found that those things that get us adults all up in arms are really not the same things that get our kids agitated (i.e. the price of the new Rock Band Beatles edition for one). I’m guessing that the speech won’t be mentioned unless either hubby or I bring it up, or unless somebody got in trouble for talking during the speech which would be duly noted and reported on in great detail.

I decided to withhold judgment on the speech until I watched it. I know, novel idea. Many of the vociferous rantings of the last week were done without benefit of even having read the transcript of the speech. But after watching it, all I can think is, “Is this what got everybody all fired up?”

“Do your best.”

“…start with the responsibility you have within yourself.”

“Every single one of you has something to offer.”

“What you make of your education will decide nothing less than the future of this country.”

I heard nothing in the speech on health care, the war in Afghanistan, tort reform, or the stock market, some of the topics that opponents to this speech feared would be presented. What I heard was a President imploring the nation’s children to take responsibility for themselves and their education, to make the most of what this country has to offer in terms of education, and to know that who they are and how they behave is of vital importance. It was a great speech, written for a varied audience, hitting all of the notes that parents should hit every now and again while raising their own children. I’m glad President Obama spoke to the kids today, on the first or second day of school. Come to think of it, I wish President Obama would speak to them every week. Or at least come over here once a week and talk to my kids. Maybe then we could table the “great green bean debate” once and for all.

I’m getting concerned about the backlash to everything this administration, and even the smaller local ones, are trying to do. While not a fan of some previous administration’s efforts to reform certain things in this country, I do have a healthy respect for anyone who tries to affect any kind of change, even if I am ideologically opposed. So, until it doesn’t work, let’s give it a try (I’m looking at you, No Child Left Behind). But having the President take time out of his day to speak to the nation’s schoolchildren about the value of education? Not something we need to worry about.

Thoughts?

Maggie Barbieri

Let the Sweating Begin

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The minute I was told Dispel the Mist was at the printer I ordered 100 copies. Why do I need that many copies? To send to reviewers and to sell myself at all the events I’ve lined up. After spending the weekend with my author friends who had two wonderful events planned for their latest and no books arriving, I can’t help but worry.

If they come when the tracking thing-a-ma-bob at UPS is right, they should show up on my doorstep on Thursday. That would be great. We’re headed to the coast for a book and craft show at the Nipomo Library and it’ll be great to have the new book to show off and hopefully sell. While we’re there, we’ve got an evening out planned with old friends we haven’t seen for awhile.

This past week we were in the high desert with the Ridgecrest Writers group. I told them all I know about electronic publishing and promoting on the Internet. We had quite an adventure coming home which you can read about on my personal blog at http://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com but of course I didn’t have my new books, but hadn’t expected to.

My first appearance locally will be on Saturday the 19th at the Porterville Library where I plan to tell them what inspired me to write Dispel the Mist. On Sunday, I’ll have a booksigning where I live in a new little bakery and shop called Kirby Farms because they also sell produce out of their car port.

So you can see, I was cutting in close. Though I love the hometown events, hubby and I really do enjoy the ones where we can travel a bit–it’s like taking a mini-vacation.

It is time that I started thinking about my next Tempe mystery though since I’m writing two books a year, one for each of my series, I can’t wait too long to get something perking. All I know so far is it will have something about bears in it. My Aspen police officer grandson’s tales about chasing bears out of people’s houses have inspired me.

I’ll be going back to the UPS website to see how far those books have traveled and whether or not the holiday fouled up the arrival time. In the meantime, Dispel the Mist is available from the publisher, http://www.mundaniapress.com and can be ordered from any bookstore.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Whose Story Is It Anyway?

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One of the first rules taught to new authors is to write about what you know. Now clearly, I don’t personally know any murderers (or at least I don’t think I do). But in our books, the lives led by Mac Sullivan and Rachel Brenner are within the realm of my comprehension. I may not have an Irish wolfhound for a pet, but I do have a dog and understand the mutual devotion that develops between animal and owner. My characters, even the villains, have traits, habits, and motivations that I’ve encountered in real life. Maybe not to the degree that would push someone to kill, but my fiction writing is grounded in reality.

But that’s different than writing a book on a real-life event where the people involved are still alive. Laura Lippman, in her critically acclaimed novel, What the Dead Know, encountered that criticism when she based the storyline on a true-life mystery that had occurred 30 years earlier in a nearby town. She answered those critics when she explained, “Still, I hope that readers understand the difference between writing stories based on true incidents, and writing ones that are inspired by asking, “What if . . . .” With that question, real life is left behind and fiction begins.”

I accept that rationale and Lippman certainly made significant changes in her characters to distinguish them from the family in the real-life tragedy.

But this week, I read a New York Times article on Julie Myerson, a British novelist, who has written a memoir about her teenage son’s drug addiction. The boy, thrown out of the family home when he was 17, “denounced his mother as insane…for exploiting and exaggerating” his drug troubles. Myerson, who encountered a firestorm of criticism when the book was published in England, now claims that had she known the criticism she would receive, “I wouldn’t have done it.”

To me, though I haven’t read her book, Myerson violated a couple of sacred rules. First, you don’t make money off your children’s troubles. Even though she is writing from the perspective of the parent, the bottom line is that her child was going through Hell and that’s not a money-making venture. Her son gave an interview to The Daily Mail where he said: “What she has done has taken the very worst years of my life and cleverly blended it into a work of art, and that to me is obscene.”

She argues that it’s important that the public understand the nightmare of teenage drug use. But since it was clear that her son objected – this is not a guide that Myerson should have written. Is there a need for a book to help parents going through a similar experience? Probably. But since it was predicated on events in her son’s life, it was not her decision to make unilaterally.

And there is always the concept, certainly promoted by my own mother, the original Evelyn, that you don’t air your dirty laundry in public. Why would you want to expose your child to public examination and possible ridicule?

Some argue that Myerson was the victim of sexism. That mothers are held to a higher standard. Not by me. I would have the same objections had the father written this tome.

I understand that as an author, sometimes when you are in the midst of a crisis, it’s the only topic you feel you can write about. And perhaps it would have been cathartic for Myerson to write about her anguish. The difference is that this story was appropriate for her personal journal – not for publication. The cost of this book for her family may well be incalculable – regardless of any royalties she may accrue.

Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder off the Books by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

The Creaky Joint Gets the Grease

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by Susan McBride

I’ve been helping my parents move this past week, and it hasn’t been easy. I feel bad for my mother who loves her old house (built in 1921 with green tile roof, original stained glass, and character coming out the wazoo). It’s been hardest on her as she told us once, “I want to die in this place.” But my dad’s bum knees and back made it tough for him to go up and down stairs (and that house had plenty of them). So they put Casa McBride up for sale a year ago and looked at ranch houses, finding one they both really liked. Only their house didn’t sell. It was on the market for months and months, and no bites except for a man who looked twice with his fiance, nearly made an offer, and then decided he didn’t really like his fiance anymore. This year, they hired a different realtor, started at a bargain basement price (something Mom was not willing to do a year ago), and they sold within a month. Thankfully, they found their new house just in time. They closed on it last Wednesday. The buyers closed on their old house yesterday.

For the past few weeks, it’s been Crazy City with my mom trying to clear out stuff that she couldn’t take to a house 1,000 square feet smaller than Big Old House. She had my sister come in town from NYC to go through all the crap she’d stored in their basement (and closets and third floor). Molly hardly got rid of it all, but did fill several Goodwill bins. Then my brother (who is married with two kids and has a plenty-big house of his own) finally took everything belonging to him that they’d been keeping for years and years, too. Even still, there was too much to move. So last weekend, they had an estate sale of lovely antiques (and, yes, some junk) that Mom had collected for 30 to 40 years. It went fabulously with about 75% selling on the first day and another 15% selling on Sunday for half-price. (Um, anyone want a 17″ x 21″ rug, a chrome and glass coffee table circa 1972, or a very old French baker’s rack?)

My aunt, uncle, and I helped them load a U-Haul before the real movers came. Mom didn’t want movers doing any packing of boxes. We moved about five or six times when I was growing up (Dad worked for IBM = I’ve Been Moved), so Mom’s an expert packer. Well, she packs by kind of throwing anything within reach into one box and then moving onto the next. Precision-packing it ain’t, but it gets the job done. We filled the rental truck with box after box after box, finally shoving in anything else that wasn’t bolted down that we could lift. We unloaded it all at their new house the next day then went back again for another load. Oy!

I’ll be 45 in October, and I usually feel a decade younger (have to keep up with my husband who’s, er, 35). But after all that bending, lifting, and carrying my right knee and hip felt about 100. I used to pride myself on being so athletic and flexible. I was a gymnast, a cheerleader, a Varsity track star (okay, a really slow star, like one who trips over the finish line after finishing last in the 400 meters). What had happened to me?

I can’t even blame it on the breast cancer. That was 2-1/2 years ago, and I’ve got nearly full range of motion in my left arm/shoulder and darned good strength again. I hired a personal trainer once I was cleared by my surgeon, and Nicole whipped me into great shape before my wedding in February of 2008. I kept to that routine even after I couldn’t afford Nicole anymore (or at least, justify spending $60 an hour on Nicole several times a week), and I felt as good as I’ve ever felt. Until my deadline crunch this year with two books due within five months of each other nearly killed me. My Epstein-Barr flared up again, which is like having mono revisit. Oh, joy! I felt drained, exhausted, tearful. The only way I could write 24/7 and get the books done was to drop everything else I could possibly drop. Yep, I stopped exercising.

Now I’ve got everything turned in, and I’ve started testing the exercise waters again. I went to Nicole’s Pilates class several times to check it out, and I’m hooked. It’s like one of those things where you feel like you’re doing something but you’re not sure how much because you aren’t dripping profusely with sweat…and then the next day you can hardly move. I wish I’d had about a month or two of those classes before The Great Parental Move. I feel like a wimp.

I read somewhere that it takes 10 days to lose the benefits of regular exercise and at least 10 weeks to regain it. That hardly seems fair. I just wish someone could invent WD-40 for humans. “One squirt and you’re silent as a well-oiled door hinge!” It’d make billions.

September 3rd Thoughts

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I’m writing this on August 31 since I’ll be traveling on September 3, attending a defensive driving class. So these are really the thoughts I had on August 31 about September 3. I think it’s important to think about what you might be thinking about on a future date. (Yes, I’m smiling). Think about it – thinking ahead saves time. And keeps you from dwelling on the past which would be now if I’m thinking about Thursday.

So on September 3 my thoughts would be …

1. Staying in hotels when you’re working isn’t that much fun. Noises from the ice machine kept waking me up last night.

2. I love using my Blackberry as an alarm clock – no worries about wake-up calls or tinkering with the unfamiliar clock radios provided by the hotel. I have sixty-eight emails to individually delete from my smart phone. Wish it was smart enough to have a “delete all” button.

3. The free breakfast was well priced for the value. I’m sure that biscuit came with a long history!

4. The defensive driving class I’m taking today isn’t what I expected. I was hoping for hints about driving on ice. Instead they want me to give up talking on my cell phone while driving. Can you imagine?

5. I need more coffee if I’m going to stay awake all day.

6. The people behind me are talking too loudly. Serve them right if I use their conversation in my next novel.

7. Is it almost over yet? I swear I’ll never talk on my cell phone and drive at the same time. No, really! I’m really going to try not to.

8. The drive from Oklahoma City to Muskogee hasn’t gotten any shorter in the last 25 years. No, I’m not talking on my cell phone during the drive.

9. Weather guys didn’t predict rain for today! I don’t know why I bother to watch their forecasts. Wait, I’m getting a weather alert on my cell phone – not that I’m looking at it.

10. Speaking of “looking,” home always looks great as I’m pulling in the driveway – or at least much better than it did when I left.

11. Except … Sigh… It was trash pick-up day today; which means I have to pick up the trash that blew out of the bins when the trash trucks made their pick up. Have you noticed that like most things, automated trash pick-up is not as good as when live people did the job?

12. Nothing good on television tonight. When do the new fall shows start airing? I need to make a decision about buying a new television soon. Typically, I want a model that I can’t afford.

13. Time to write a best seller – or at least one that will pay for a new television.

Evelyn David

Second Chances

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With the death of Senator Ted Kennedy last week, I have been thinking a lot about second chances. Kennedy is being lauded as a lion of the Senate and champion of the “little guy” (that would be me and all of my kind, I’m suspecting), and the left-, right-, and center-leaning talking heads have been all atwitter about the Senator, discussing the second chances he received at various points in history—his personal history and our collective one—and if he deserved the post-mortem kudos that he is receiving now.

I’m thinking yes.

It was not until I was older that I understood the magnitude of this man’s Senate career and ultimate legacy. Thousands of legislative bills presented, several hundred turned into laws. He had worked tirelessly on the health care issue since the Nixon administration, which for me was a time I was working tirelessly on one thing: getting Barry Manilow’s autograph. That will give you an idea of how long ago that was. He had been a senator for forty-seven years with only two senators—Methuselah and Robert Byrd—having held their seats for a longer period of time. Yet, this man’s life and legacy will be marred by a string of tragic events, in particular, but not limited to the drowning of Mary Jo Kopechne, his own struggles with alcohol, and his involvement with a nephew brought up on rape charges. Many people are stuck on these issues and events and can’t see past them to celebrate a life well lived, while there are others who have completely forgotten these aspects of the man’s life only to celebrate his remarkable achievements.

And then there are those of us in the middle. I can’t help thinking about what it must be like for Ms. Kopechne’s family to see all of the accolades bestowed upon him in death. But I also can’t stop thinking about a man who lived his life in public and endured shame and recriminations but who also saw two children through cancer, the death of all of his siblings save one—with two dying violently—and other tragedies that would have felled the strongest of us. I can’t help thinking of the man who submitted a letter to Pope Benedict just recently, asking forgiveness for the things he had done in his life. I also can’t stop thinking about the people interviewed who said that he had personally helped them get necessary medical care for their loved ones, or information about someone missing overseas. I can’t stop thinking that I wouldn’t have had three months home with child #1 after she was born if it hadn’t been for the Family and Medical Leave Act that he, along with President Clinton, helped enact.

We are all flawed. And if you think that you are the first to admit that, you’ll have to get in line behind me. But I can’t help thinking that after reading a number of articles and watching news broadcasts and the funeral on television that this was a man who spent his life atoning. There are many of my kind (the Irish-Catholic variety) who find his brand of pure unadulterated liberalism a discredit to our heritage and religion, while others of us find it exactly what we think both embody. Social justice? Check. Helping those less fortunate? Check. Trying to make up for a life of imperfection? Check. Doing it all with a big smile on your face while eating a sandwich and telling a long-winded story? Double check.

It’s a complicated legacy, for sure. But then again, all of ours will be, I suspect. Maybe it is not what we’ve done, but what we do with the chance to do it again?

Maggie Barbieri

Growing Old Gracefully

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How does one grow old gracefully?

I know that I don’t really feel old inside–of course it’s always a shock when I look in the mirror and this older person looks back at me that resembles a cross between my grandmother and mother.

I can tell my husband is getting older because he just doesn’t get much done anymore and he used to be a dynamo. When he watches TV he spends more time asleep than not. He stays up much later than I do, but he’s sleeping in his chair while I’m in the bed.

If you’d seen him this past weekend though, he worked as hard if not harder than most of the younger men when we were visiting down in Dana Point at the ill-fated book launch with no books.

He knew how to and helped so many younger people put up and take down their tents who didn’t have a clue how to do it. He hauled tables and put tables away. He helped in anyway he could and worked right alongside our host who is thirteen years younger.

I’ve always had friends who were older than I am, now most of my friends are younger. My older friends have retired to places where older people go and they’ve taken up leisure activities.

I can’t imagine spending my days doing “leisure” activities.

If I’m not writing a book I’m planning a new one. Right now my efforts are all geared toward promoting Dispel the Mist.

Hubby and I have a lot of places to go planned for the next month, places where I’ll be promoting but we’ll also have fun and visit with some of our younger friends.

Our calendar for next year is filling up too–we’re headed for New Orleans for Epicon–New Orleans is some place we’ve never been before so we’re definitely going to do some sightseeing.

We don’t plan to stop until we have to–not sure that fits the bill of growing old gracefully, but it will have to do.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com