Tag Archive for: #amwriting

Stupid of Not?

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Stupid or Not? by Debra H. Goldstein


Do you think I’m stupid? In today’s fast-paced computer-oriented world, how gullible do I look?
I may take a little longer to access the apps on my phone or need a little outside help to hide the strands of grey in my hair, but my grey matter is still intact.

Last week, my husband and I went car shopping. Sales representatives at the first two dealers we visited treated us with respect and, when queried, produced realistic numbers for us to use as the beginning of any negotiations. The third dealer, one from whom we previously purchased or leased three cars and recommended to friends who bought two additional cars, was a different story.

Let me set the stage. Because my car, which came from this dealership, is in the shop, we whipped into the parking lot in a significantly lower priced brand that while perfect for the minimal amount my husband drives, isn’t one this dealer sells. We were virgin meat when we walked into the showroom because the no-nonsense salesperson we’d dealt with in the past no longer worked there.

No one tried to help us. Even when I opened the door of the company’s flagship model, none of the

salesmen rooted at their desks jumped to introduce themselves to us. Finally, a young woman sitting in the manager’s office, apparently shooting the breeze with a colleague, approached us. She explained she was busy, but she ascertained what cars we might be interested in, and then sent one of the planted salesmen to help us. He told us about two cars they had on the lot that met my criteria, but as he went to get the keys, another young man entered the building and our first salesman handed us off to him. The new person, who we were assured knew everything and could help us, was nice, but after two weeks on the job, he didn’t even know enough to take a car on the lot lacking gas to the pump so it could be decently test driven – instead he suggested I merely take it around the block.
Despite the short test drive, I asked for numbers. He handed me a sheet of paper which he assured me would help move the quote process through more quickly. It specifically asked what I’d be willing to pay. I wrote, “Let’s not waste each other’s time – give me a realistic number removing the water, taking into account all rebates and incentives, and considering my years of dealer loyalty.” The young man took the paper to the sales manager.

After twenty minutes in the office of the first woman we’d met, he came back with what he assured us was a good number. I glanced at the paper in his hand. The number was $500 less than the manufacturer’s sticker price. We thanked him and left the dealership.

Writing a good mystery is like our car shopping experience. Successful authors offer a character driven tale with a realistic plot. Although there may be descriptive paragraphs, they aren’t filler. Rather, the language is spare and moves the story along. There are enough twists and turns to engage first time readers. Returning readers enjoy the additional developed nuanced layers of complexity respecting previously introduced characters and settings. Readers may not agree with every aspect a writer includes, but if the writer plays fair, readers close a book looking forward to continuing a relationship with an author.

By the way, after additional negotiations based upon fair market value numbers I pulled up, albeit slowly, on my phone, we bought a car from the first dealership we’d visited.

What is it that a writer does that makes you feel the writer thinks you are stupid? What kind of car do you think we came home with?

International Beaver Day!

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April 7 is International
Beaver Day, a day aimed at celebrating and raising awareness of these furry,
dam-building rodents. (Bet you didn’t know that!)
Photo Credit: Michael S. Quinton National Geographic
I swear I’m not quoting my BeaverSav protesters, but beavers really
are remarkable creatures. (BeaverSav is a completely made-up organization protesting
the destruction of beaver habitat by the archeologists in The Body in the Beaver Pond. I might’ve had a bit of fun with one
of the protestors in the story, but they really are dedicated to restoring the
beaver’s habitat.) 
Anyway, given a chance, beavers could serve an important
role in solving many of our planet’s major environmental problems.
Their dams help create one of the Earth’s best life support systems. The dams
flood the land upstream of the dam, restoring wildlife habitats for a number of
species, protecting and filtering our drinking water, storing flood waters to
reduce property damage, and maintaining surface water flow during drought
periods.
Sadly, beaver numbers declined—the current population is
roughly 10% of what it was before European settlers moved in—and the majority
of wetlands were drained, disconnecting waterways from their floodplains. Eventually,
rivers became more like canals—or sewers—contributing to our current problems
with water pollution, erosion, and escalating damage from regional floods and
droughts. 
Really bad photo by Cathy Perkins
Beavers have made a
remarkable comeback over the last century. I can personally attest to several
families in our neck of the woods. They keep trying to turn our river and its
side streams into a giant wetland, but the river floods every spring, sweeping
the dams away. Industrious critters, the beavers simply gnaw down more trees and start
over.
Beavers:
Wetlands & Wildlife or BWW (a for-real group dedicated to protecting the species) declared April 7 International Beaver Day to honor
Dorothy Richards, also known as the “Beaver Woman,” whose birthday fell on that
day. Before her death in 1985, Richards studied beavers for fifty years, had
two consecutive beaver families living in an addition to her house (that might
be taking your passion a bit far) and wrote a book called Beaversprite: My Years Building an
Animal Sanctuary.
Okay, she kinda mighta
been the inspiration for the woman from BeaverSav, but I’m sure Ms Richards is
much more fun to hang out with.
To celebrate
International Beaver Day, here are seven facts about these industrious rodents provided
by globalanimal.org:
1.
Beavers can stay underwater for 15 minutes without coming up for air.

2.
The beaver is Canada’s biggest rodent and the second-largest on the planet.

3.
Beavers’ transparent eyelids work like goggles, by protecting their eyeballs as
they swim underwater.

4.
The beaver has been Canada’s national symbol for more than 300 years.

5.
Beavers’ ear openings and nostrils have valves that can be closed when
underwater.

6.
The world’s largest beaver dam is 850 meters long and located in Wood Buffalo
National Park.

7.
Beavers sharpen their incisors (teeth) by grinding them against one another.


Ever see a beaver where you live? 



An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.  Visit her at http://cperkinswrites.com or on Facebook 

Sign up for her new release announcement newsletter in either place.

She’s hard at work on sequel to The Body in the Beaver Pond, which was recently presented with the Claymore Award. 

Spring!

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By Cathy Perkins

Happy first day of spring!

I’ve seen so many pictures of daffodils and other spring flowers in the past few days. Here in the Pacific Northwest, eh, not so much. But we’re loving the sunshine.

I can feel the effect of vitamin D on my creativity and am working away on the next novel. 
How’s your spring unfolding? 

An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.  Visit her at http://cperkinswrites.com or on Facebook 

Sign up for her new release announcement newsletter in either place.

She’s hard at work on sequel to The Body in the Beaver Pond, which was recently presented with the Claymore Award. 

Supposed to be…

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by Bethany Maines

I’m not supposed to be writing this.  I have a pretty stiff yearly schedule on what
I intend to write.  And while the
Stiletto Gang blogs are on my schedule, I have currently abandoned all sanity
and schedules and have started committing time to a project that is NOT on the
calendar.  I should currently be writing
my San Juan Islands #3.  Unfortunately,
while I had a fantastic idea for the opening, my idea pretty much stopped
there. And an inciting incident does not a plot make.  But after I stared and stared at the screen
and then stared some more, nothing was coming to me. So I started doing a
writing exercise to get the creative juices flowing and now… I can’t stop. 

I think I’ve fallen in love with my own characters.  They keep popping up with more things for
themselves to do.   And I keep thinking, “What a great idea!  I’m sure that will only take me twenty
minutes to jot that down.”  Note to self:
nothing you want to write takes twenty minutes. 
And now my cushion of time for making my deadline is whittling down and
I’m actually starting to worry.  So if
you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop writing this and stare at my screen and try
and figure out why Tobias is in jail.
**
Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie Mae Mystery Series, San
Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo
Crime Series, and numerous short stories. When she’s not traveling to
exotic lands, or kicking some serious butt with her fourth degree black belt in
karate, she can be found chasing her daughter or glued to the computer working
on her next novel. You can also catch up with her on YouTube,
Twitter and Facebook.

Making Hay

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By Cathy Perkins


[Cathy is traveling with internet problems, so we’re featuring a past post of hers today.]


It’s hay making season in our mountain valley. The process is interesting, even if it does play havoc with my husband’s allergies. One of the things that surprised me, though, was the parallels I saw between making hay and writing. 

Stay with me. 

Let’s look at the hay process first. There are three basic requirements for growing hay: land, water and sun. Lots of each one. Once the grass reaches the right stage—tall, but not gone to seed—the ranchers start watching the weather even closer than they usually do. Hoping the forecast holds, they cut the grass in wide swathes and let it dry. 


Over the next few days, the ranchers fluff—okay, the technical term is swath—the hay so it dries evenly. Once the hay is dry, they can bail it into bricks that litter the field at regular intervals. 


This year’s first cutting looked terrific and the initial bids from Japan were $300/ton. The earliest cutters started bailing and there was happiness in the valley. 


Then the unexpected happened. A storm boiled over the Cascades and drenched the valley. All the grass still on the ground went from being prime hay to cattle feed—not even dairy cow feed—at a price that will barely cover the expense of bailing it. 


As soon as the sun reappeared and dried things out, the ranchers fluffed what was there and prepared to get it out of the field and make way for the next crop. 


There are other ways things can go wrong. Balers break and things get stuck. Weeds invade from untended land. But the men and women who ranch for a living keep going, raising hay for their horses and other people’s cows. 


So how is any of that like writing? 


Well, you start with three basic ingredients to create a story: writer, imagination and paper—lots of each one. The author nurtures the story to The End and fluffs and cuts and edits, hoping for that premium bid for the manuscript. But things outside the author’s control can ruin that venture. A decision somewhere else that Steampunk/Chick Lit/Romantic Suspense/Whatever is “dead” means that particular manuscript isn’t going anywhere except a closest or thumb drive. (Hmm… considering indie-pubbing yet?) 


Like a bale in the baler, words can get stuck. It’s much harder to find a repair person for a broken or missing muse than a clogged machine. 


Like the rancher, the writer keeps putting words on the page, creating stories, because that’s what writers do. 


 Can you think of any other parallels?

An
award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark
suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles
with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure.
She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the
resident deer herd.
Her latest release is In It For The Money, book 4 in the Holly Price mystery series. 
To celebrate, So About the Money, book 1 in the series is currently on sale for 99 cents! 

Sock Stories by Debra H. Goldstein

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SOCK STORIES by Debra H. Goldstein
Have you ever
noticed the socks a person wears? Like the words a writers put on paper, each
pair tells a story or evokes images or feelings.

For example, my
husband wears dark socks to his office because he has bought into the theory that they look more  look more professional than gym socks, but his disinterest in how he dresses is reflected by his
unwillingness to take the time to match the color of his socks to the shade of his slacks.
He’s just as likely to wear black with brown as he is to grab a pair of brown
socks. Joel is most comfortable in gym socks and sneakers. To my chagrin, his yucky
looking tube socks and an old pair of slip-ons are the image indelibly pressed
into our neighbors’ minds when they seem him going outside every morning to
retrieve his precious newspaper.

A young man I
know tells a different story through his sock choices. He considers himself to
be a player. Consequently, he coordinates the sharpest socks I’ve ever seen
with tailor made suits and shirts, as well as specialized pocket handkerchiefs
or patterned ties.

Personally, I’ve
always been fond of wearing socks that tell a story or bring a memory back to
me. I wear Chanukah, Mah jongg, and other holiday socks to make a statement for
the moment, much as one does with a Christmas sweater. On a bad day, I choose
between the comfort afforded by two pairs of warm soft fuzzy socks.

Last week, when
we took a family cruise to Alaska, the socks I ended up wearing not only
created a story for the moment, but became part of memories I will pull up in
the future.

The ages in
our group ranged from five to seventy-five. I wasn’t the oldest, but I easily
was the group’s cattle herder. Before we sailed, I reminded everyone to bring
passports, cold weather and rain gear (and of course our coldest day was 72
degrees and the only time it rained was once while we were sleeping), and other
essentials. I chided, sent e-mails, and while packing managed to leave my air
pushed out of it plastic bag of socks on the dining room table.

I arrived on
the ship with only the striped sneaker socks I was wearing, but never fear,
cruise ships sell everything. That is why I am now the owner of pink and purple
socks that all say Alaska and have moose heads, full sized mooses, bears, and
something I’m not sure of on them.

Each morning,
as I pulled on a pair of these socks, they reminded me I was sharing Alaska with
people who matter to me more than anything else. The animals, background
mountains, and whatever it was on one pair that I wasn’t sure of, also made a statement
that this would be a day of new experiences and beautiful terrain.

Our most
varied day was in Juneau. For us, it was the day of the glaciers. Joel and I
took the most sedate way of seeing them – busing and hiking to lookout points,
but even from a distance, the beauty of massive pieces of ice broken from the
main glacier fascinated me. What I saw and the ranger’s movie made me ever so
much more aware of global warming because of how the glacier itself has
receded. My daughter and her husband kayaked out to the glacier; my two sons
took a float plane into the glacier area; and our five year old grand-daughter and
her parents visited a dog camp and rode a dog sled. Everyone came back to the
ship impressed by what we experienced.

From now on,
whenever I put on a pair of my Alaskan socks, I will remember the looks of
happiness everyone had while telling me about their day.

My initial
anger at forgetting my socks has been replaced by the stories my new ones will
always unlock. Whenever I see the pink moose or either “Moose Hug” or “Alaska” on my socks, memories and
scenes from the cruise will be triggered – much as words create mental images
in a good book, short story or poem.

Retreating to Advance

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By Cathy Perkins
The weekend marked the 10th anniversary of our
writing retreat. Wow, ten years. Ten years ago, Rachel Grant, Rebecca Clark,
Courtney Milan, Darcy Burke and I were Golden Heart finalists and staged our
first retreat. (We invited Elisabeth Naughton to join us several years ago and
Kris Kennedy couldn’t come this year.) We’re all multi-published authors now,
but we’re also friends. We’ve seen each other’s children grow up, celebrated
successes and consoled losses.
The primary focus of the weekend is writing. Usually silence
reigns except for the clicking of Elisabeth’s keys, but there are lighter
moments too. We reviewed the 432 pictures from Darcy’s photo shoot and picked
favorites for book cover potential. Of course, we had to stage our own “shoot.” 
This is our “thoughtful” pose. 
Yeah, not.
One of the most helpful things for me was the business
discussion. We talked about goals for the upcoming year and mouths gaped as
Darcy described her publication schedule. “I treat it like a job, because
that’s what it is,” she explained. In order to meet her schedule, she sets—and
meets—daily word counts. 
Her comment echoed Steven King. I listened to On Writing
during the drive to Portland. (We change the location every year, but the house
is always in the Pacific Northwest.) King said he goes to his writing space
every morning and doesn’t come out until he has at least 1500 words on the
page. Some days he’s done by noon. Others, he’s there until dinner time.
That’s my takeaway from this year’s retreat. Consistency.
Discipline. Sure, I wrote nearly 15,000 words this weekend. Some of them will
turn out to be lousy, but the first draft of my latest novel is nearly complete
and editing will deal with the clunky sections. But every day since I’ve been
home, instead of checking email, social media, and the news when I get up, I
write. I’m roughly two scenes away from reaching “The End.”
And then the editing will begin…and the plotting of the next
book.
Thanks Darcy. And Steven. 
 


An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd. 
She’s hard at work on the next book in the Holly Price series, 
In It For The Money.

Retreating…

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By Cathy Perkins


What’s the appeal of a writing retreat? There are as many types of writing retreats
as there are writers. Some are world famous organized affairs, while most are events
planned with friends. Drop “writing retreat” into your internet browser and
pages of links will fill the screen.
Stepping
back, though, let’s look at the big picture. What’s mentioned most often as the
key ingredient for a writing retreat?
Time.

A
retreat reduces our usual distractions for guilt free writing time. Away from
home, spouse, family, friends, pets, day-jobs, laundry, and stacks of unopened
mail, we can relish the time and the freshness of a new place. When we step
through the door of our temporary haven, there are no defining expectations, no
history. In this place we are Writer
rather than cook, chauffeur, pet walker, diaper changer, Scout leader, event planner, or any
of the myriad roles layered on by our usual routine.

Of
course, this giddy freedom can also produce overly ambitious goals. I’ll work day and night and crank out a
hundred new pages, thousands of words!
Given how difficult it can be to carve out
time away from our jobs and lives, we might feel pressured to be uber productive. We feel guilty if we’re
not making every minute count. But that’s missing the other primary goal of a
writing retreat – a chance to rest, renew, and refill the creative well. The
goal is not to return home feeling you’ve just pulled a series of all-nighters.
Somewhere in between these two goals lives an
individual balance point. I have friends whose ideal writing retreat is a hotel
room with in-room dining service and a view of the roof top air-handling equipment.
They are there to write. Period. End of sentence. Maybe they have a deadline to
meet or that’s their personality, but the separation from the world is purely functional.
Other friends roll the retreat into a
mini-vacation. Write a couple of hours in the morning and afternoon and then indulge
the rest of the day with friends or, as The
Artist’s Way calls it, feeding the inner child. Visit galleries, spend time
with writing friends, walk on the beach or hike a mountain trail. Read in a clawfoot bathtub or bing-watch a complete season of Outlander. The writing
time flies by with flowing words and the writer goes home ready to tackle the
rest of the novel and the rest of her life.


I’m somewhere in the middle of these extremes. 
For several years. I’ve go to our fall retreat to write and I always get a lot done. “Done” can be
words written, a story spine planned, or the minutia of an upcoming release
scheduled. 
But it’s also a time of creative renewal for me to visit with
friends, to talk story with people who don’t roll their eyes (cough, cough,
family) and to walk for hours on the beach. 



What does your favorite or ideal writing retreat look like?






An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd. Her latest release is Double Down, available at major online retailers. 


Amazon       B&N      Kobo      iBooks   

Planting the Seeds of Reading and Writing

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By Kimberly Jayne

When I was eight, I was a third-grade student at Desert View Elementary. My teacher was a tiny elderly woman in her eighties. Mrs. Hawkins was sweet and welcoming and, because of her, I looked forward to going to school. I adored her.

It was 1963, a year that changed America, and a year that Mrs. Hawkins changed me.

I remember to this day her announcement that she was going to teach us fractions, and we were going to absolutely love it because fractions are so much fun. Whether by the power of suggestion or her teaching methods, she was right. Fractions were fun. Multiplication tables were fun too. I digress and give her a C on division. Because of division I received the only “2” (B) in an entire year of report cards decorated in “1s”
(A’s).


Mrs. Hawkins holds a very special place in my heart for not only getting me to appreciate math and school in general, she taught me to love reading. She read to the class first from E.B. White’s Stuart Little and then from The Pink Motel by Carol Ryrie Brink, and then another book whose name I don’t recall. Every day we’d hear a chapter, and I couldn’t wait for reading time. When I was home, I would think about Mrs. Hawkins and what wonderful things might happen next in the story.

More than anything she read, it was The Pink Motel that transformed me from a kid who liked books into a kid
with an avid love of storytelling. Mrs. Hawkins kept me spellbound with a book that pulled me in and made me feel like I was right there with Kirby and Bitsy in that Pink Motel with a menagerie of quirky characters.

And from those stories, I became a storyteller in my own right.

At the end of the school year, I was happy for summer, but I missed Mrs. Hawkins. I went to say hello when I entered the fourth grade, but she wasn’t there. She didn’t return to teach because during the summer, she had passed away. Even now, I get a lump in my throat when I think of her and what a tremendous affect she had on me.

Do you have someone from your early life who instilled in you a love of reading and writing?

__________________________________________
Kimberly Jayne writes humor, romantic comedy, suspense, erotica, and dark fantasy. You can check her out on Amazon. Find out more about her at ReadKimberly.





Seeing is not believing by Juliana Aragon Fatula

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Juliana

This photo was taken a few years back in my front yard in my aspen grove by a great friend and photographer, Tracy Harmon. It was later photo shopped by another great friend, Crissy Red. They are both artists and made me look better than I do on an average day.


On an average day, I wear my pajamas all day and rarely comb my hair. I don’t wear fake eyelashes and I didn’t dye my hair red. It’s an illusion. Some of my students and friends believed this photo was real. It’s very easy on the Internet to fabricate photos and stories.



The same day this photo was taken in my aspen grove and later changed from color to black and white for effect. It’s a photo taken by Tracy Harmon and one of my favorites. She captured me at peace in my garden with my favorite drink, chai.


This photo was taken at Yellowstone Lake in Wyoming. I’m wearing my favorite fleece jacket that I purchased in Westcliffe, Colorado several years ago.

My point is this photo could have been taken anywhere. Another illusion. My husband captured this photo and a friend of mine took the photo created a beautiful tile and made a necklace for me. The tile is small and looks like turquoise because of the lake. Another illusion.

In this photo, I’m wearing my glasses and trying to look smart. Another illusion. I’m average intelligence but the glasses make me look more intelligent, like I know what I’m talking about. I don’t know much about anything.


In Pennsylvania on vacation visiting the university, I’m wearing vata shades and red lipstick and my favorite jacket because of the turquoise color. I look happy. I’m smiling, but inside I’m a torrent of worry, sadness, and anger. I’m a basket case, but the illusion of this photo is happiness.

You can’t believe what you see or hear or read anymore. It could be fabricated or altered, or hacked by Russians.

Final photo taken by me, in my kitchen, on my cellphone. I’m not a photographer; I’m a writer; a performer. I’m performing. I look stoic. I look like my Navajo grandmother.

If I wear something else I can look Arab, Muslim, Hawaiian, I’ve been a Wooden Indian, a cowboy,  a Shakespearean Courtesan, a bag lady, a drug addict, a Mexican legend: la Llorona. I am all of these things and none of these things. It’s an illusion of stage and film that makes me look like something I’m not.

Next time you see a photo or story online and you have questions about it’s authenticity, remember this blog and these photos and that in today’s world, nothing is as it seems. And remember as my great friend, Manuel always says, “Every where you go, there you is.”

This is why I write fiction. I love mysteries. I love scheming up plots and clues and secrets and murder. But it’s not real. It’s fiction. Some people will believe anything. Others are never fooled.

I’m reading a great book by a great author, Linda Rodriguez, Plotting the Character Driven Novel. I’m studying all of the books on writing by master writers in order to learn how to be a master writer.

A great mentor, Sandra Cisneros, told me, “Don’t be a good writer. Be a great writer.” And that is what I strive for, greatness, because otherwise why am I wasting my time?

So my mystery is a work in progress and I’ve given myself a deadline, but I know I have the rest of my life to complete this masterpiece. If I keep learning and writing and reading other great writers, I’m confident that one day I’ll be published and go on to write more novels.

I’m a poet, a storyteller, a performance artist, a hard working writer with a mission. To tell the best story I can because I have something important to say and I’m going to tell my story. A story about the Colorado Sisters and the Atlanta Butcher.

I can use all of the encouragement and support I can get. So if you read my post and want to send me advise, tips, techniques, I’m always eager to learn and become the best writer I can.

I’m starting the new year with a new attitude. I’m not going to give up on my novel, even when I get discouraged and feel like a failure. I’m going to look at the progress I’ve made in my 60 years and look forward to creating stories, because stories are important. They tell us about history, culture, language, politics, society, even if it is fiction. There is truth in everything I write, you just have to look for the truth not the facts.

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