Tag Archive for: “The Misfit” Series

In Praise of Prologues

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By AB Plum

Do you skim prologues?

Dislike them?

Shrug when you finish and begin Chapter 1 (the real story)?

Feel “manipulated” when you finish the book?

Prologues stir up a lot of discussion among writers and readers. Personally, I like them if they’re more than hype. Winding up a seven-book series, I decided to use seven prologues in the final book. 

Crazy? Maybe. But. I think they work. Because they satisfy introducing unanswered background story questions from the previous books. 

Each of the min-prologues layers into the subsequent plot—though in one instance, the reader may get a surprise at the twist. In length, they range from three lines to one page. Two different backstories emerge. Ultimately, they tie the whole series together. 

Each mini-prologue falls under the general heading of Prologue. I used lowercase Roman numerals to distinguish each one.

Would I try this structure again?
Right now, I’ll say yes. As a writer, I really enjoyed the challenge. 

What about you? Would you take one look at those Roman numerals and throw the book against the wall? Would you read them and then delete the book from your eReader?

************
The Whole Truth marks a resting place for AB. Sliding down the slippery slope of writing noir has opened up a lot of ideas. This summer she plans to read more for pleasure, dance more for fun, walk more for health and write more about love.










MisFits, Psychopaths, and Late-Night Reading

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By AB Plum

On April 30, I’ll upload to Amazon The Whole Truth. TWT is the final—seventh—volume of The MisFit Series, dark psychological thrillers about a psychopath’s impact on innocents he meets along his twisted journey.

After seven books, two thousand pages, and half a million words, this has been a tough story-telling experience. I am glad to write: THE END!
7/2K/500K+/-
_______________
The MisFits

The End!

Here are a few of the issues/questions I explored in this series:
  • ·         Are psychopaths born or nurtured?
  • ·         What if a child grows up feeling/believing he’s unlovable?
  • ·         What are some signs of psychopathic behavior in children?
  • ·         How easy is it to identify a psychopath (as a child and as an adult)?
  • ·         Can a fictional psychopath elicit sympathy from readers?
  • ·         What impact does a psychopath’s behavior have after he dies?
  • ·         Can a shattered family of a psychopath regain equilibrium?

I am now looking forward to publishing a couple of more upbeat “romance” novels. Yes, I do still hope that loves makes the world go ‘round.  J

If you’d like to read the MisFit Prequel, The Boy Nobody Loved, grab your free copy here. Maybe, just maybe, the hints of complexities to follow will keep you up reading all night.

Until next month, when I plan to write about love in May!





The picture is just to prove that even though I write about the dark holes in the human heart, I can pass for “normal” when I go for my early morning walks in my ‘hood just off the fast lane in Silicon Valley.













Great Books Stand the Test of Time

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Last month I invited 8 authors to dinner. Fun, exciting, and exasperating.

Exasperating because my guests reminded me of how little I read these days. In years past, I read at least a book a week. Somewhere, I’ve lost the time to do that. I now read—most frequently—in bed. Too often I fall asleep. Not because of the writing. Because I am … tired from writing my latest work or from marketing or from keeping up with the latest in the self- publishing world. Or, let’s be honest: because of poor time management.


Reading is still one of my favorite activities. I love nothing more—including marathon walking, aerobic dancing, political ranting—than reading. On my TO DO LIST in 2018 is to read—re-read a few of my favorite books:

The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. She was, in case you missed it, one of the authors I invited to dinner last month. I love the “feminist” twist to this novel.

The Valley of Decision by Marcia Davenport. I read this saga in high school knowing nothing about robber barons or the United States on the brink of a world war. consider it close to the top of my favorite books of all times because of the characters, settings, themes, and writing.

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. He is one of my favorite authors. His novels and short stories always peer into the darkness of the human heart. I now want to revisit this specific novel from the standpoint of an author also fascinated by dark hearts.

Dennis Lehane kept me turning pages through his Angie Gennaro-Patrick Kenzie thrillers. But Shutter Island grabbed me in a way few modern novels have. I believe—honestly, that I “got” the twist early on in the novel. Rereading, I hope, will convince me I was right (and give me a deeper insight into the whole story).

Dead Famous by Carol O’Connell left me puzzled reading it the first time and kept me asking questions about the story afterward. Mallory, as I recall, is neither the main focus nor the character who pushes the plot forward. She is unlikeable (like my psychopathic main character, Michael Romanov) and she is—perhaps—unlovable. This is one of the basic questions I asked in The MisFit Series: Is a child ever unlovable? It’s a question I asked my eight dinner guests.

If I finish this list in 2018, I have dozens more novels I intend to reread.

Have you read any of the above books? What’s your take? Would you reread any of them?

Here’s my latest addition to The MisFit Series:  



The Broken-Hearted Many. Influenced by Kathy Mallory, this sixth novel in the series takes the reader into a wounded family’s struggle to cope with the old lies and secrets which refuse to stay in the past.  


*** When AB
Plum isn’t delving into darkness, she enjoys aerobic dancing, marathon walking,
and occasionally cooking. She lives off the fast lane in Silicon Valley with
her husband.





TO PROMOTE OR NOT PROMOTE

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By AB Plum

With the advent of a new year, who better to paraphrase than the Bard himself?

Promoting is much on my mind in these early days of 2018. I haven’t yet finished my 2018 Marketing Plan. Part of me hates, loathes, and cannot stand having to spend writing time on finding reviews, placing ads, and figuring out new ways to get discovered by readers inundated by newsletters for the latest book promotion.

As a matter of full disclosure, I hop on cross-author/genre promotion bandwagons every chance I get. Local newspapers and national magazines have whittled away their book sections so I’m grateful for those authors who manage to host new offerings. Still …

How much of every day did the Bard spend much time “promoting”? How about Charles Dickens—he, who penned (by hand) 5,000 words a day? According to this same source, Barbara Cartland wrote 6,000 words daily. Stephen King’s a slacker with his per diem output of 2,000 words.

How could they possibly have spent any time promoting their books? Did they write in their sleep?

These questions bring up the issue of time management—a subject I find too personal to share publicly. Once, long ago, I was a veritable Little Red Hen. Somewhere, I took a wrong turn and no longer plant, harvest, bake the bread, and read a book a day. 

Before anyone reminds me that promoting goes with the territory of writing, I admit I know this. If I made New Year’s resolutions, I’d resolve to stop whining, adjust my ‘tude and get with the program.

I don’t make resolutions, but I understand I’m wasting my energy, spinning my wheels, ranting over the foregone: YES! To write for an audience carries the need to promote. NO! To write for myself, no need to do anything but write.

’nuf said.



***
Living off the fast lane in Silicon Valley, AB Plum loves her writing life–even the promo activities which challenge her brain and imagination most days. Check out her latest novel, The Dispensable Wife here. Coming later this month: the box set for The MisFit Series. Notice that not very subtle way she plugged two offerings at once.















A ROSE IS A ROSE, BUT IS A NAME A NAME?

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By AB Plum

Still waiting for the winner of my November giveaway to contact me with names for two characters in my next novel, Broken-Hearted Many.

In case I don’t hear before blog deadline, I’ll ponder a bit on one of my favorite topics: Naming characters.

Feller Gowdy is a name I hope to use someday. Feller will have to be an unusual guy to carry around such a handle. Hero or villain? Seems likely he’d have endured teasing his entire life. What were his parents thinking? Of course, with a surname like Gowdy, what first name actually fits? Big Feller? Little Feller? Funny Feller?

For years I’ve kept a file of unusual names. Still, I’ve used very few of them. I can’t quite figure out the profile for a woman named Apple. Is she a Pippin? Or a Granny Smith?

Names from the Bible jump out at me most frequently. So many of them come with meanings that can serve to give life to a character. Or not.

Consider Methusalah. Abendego. Job.  

Names most of us recognize. But did you know that Gad is a real Biblical moniker? Probably highly respected in the day—just as Basemath was for girls. Admittedly, I shy away from many names found in the Old Testament.

But I like Michael—meaning “gift from God.” In my dark, psychological thriller, The Dispensable Wife, I kept my tongue in cheek each time I wrote Michael Romanov’s name.

Anna and Sophia, both derived from Greek names, sound soft and pleasing together. They mean “grace” and “wisdom.” AnnaSophia Romanov is married to Michael. Again, I chose the name for its irony relative to both characters.

Choosing a name for main characters always presents me with a challenge. The process reminds me of choosing baby names. In a few instances—not with my bio kids—I’ve changed a character’s name. Why?

Maybe because unlike roses, a name is not a name by any other name.

Go on, figure that out. I dare you!

As 2017 closes, I hope you have more good memories than bad. May you find time in 2018 to read and read and read—no matter the characters’ names.
**************
AB Plum composes lists of names off the fast ramp in Silicon Valley while she walks and dances and reads Peanuts and For Better or Worse most days in her daily newspaper. Her latest novel, The Dispensable Wife is available on Amazon.


FAKE NEWS, FOX NEWS, REAL NEWS, THANKSGIVING

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By AB Plum

Thanksgiving is always a tough subject for me. Both my parents died—twenty years apart—on the holiday. A good friend also died in between that timeframe. I was an adult, but roasting turkey can still stir up some tough memories. Sometimes all the food porn in every magazine out there gives me a tummy ache and a conscience twinge for serving so many different—and rich—dishes.
But this blog isn’t a sermon. Instead, I want to share a story that someone sent my husband recently. Skeptic that I am, always on the lookout for fake news—especially from Fox News—I did a little research on the story. I think it’s real news and perfect for Thanksgiving—a reminder of how much we have to be thankful for.
Maybe you’ve read about this project or seen the pictures, but I hope you’ll check out The Fallen: 9000 Silhouettes on Normandy Beach. WARNING: Content sadly joyful. NOT A BUMMER.
Happy Thanksgiving!
********************

AB’s latest book, The Reckless Year is the fourth in her dark, gritty psychological thriller MisFit Series. It was released in early November. Quite frankly, she often questions why she wrote this noir series …. but believes darkness does lurk in the human heart. However, she’s grateful for an overly active imagination and how much she’s learned from writing about a psychopath from his birth to falling for his first love.



Finding the “real” United States

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By AB Plum

During a recent cruise from Barcelona to Miami I asked the young Indian cook preparing my egg-white omelet, “Have you visited the US?”

“No, madam. It is my dream. But someday I will go. Where do you think I should start?”

Obviously, this isn’t a one-minute conversation (about the time for my omelet to cook). But we discussed the question at length over his next fourteen preparations of my breakfast.

“New York,” he said next morning, flipping the concoction in his skillet—a skill I’ve never mastered and told him so to let him know I’m not an expert in either flipping omelets or mapping out cross-country trips. “I think,” he continued, “Manhattan and Hollywood-Los Angeles must go to the top of the list, don’t you agree?”

Someone behind me interrupted, “I’d like to order an omelet now because I don’t want to miss the lecture on Columbus’s discovery of America.”

So, my new friend and I tabled the question until the following day when I picked up our conversation. “Since you’re from New Delhi, I’d suggest places other than cities. Do you know about the Grand Canyon? Or Yosemite National Park? The Black Hills aren’t that far from Yellowstone or the Tetons …”

A hungry passenger elbowed in next to me and announced, “I’d like two eggs over easy.”

When I commented to other passengers about this on-going conversation, they all had definite ideas of places to go and places to experience. None recommended NYC or LA.

By the end of the cruise, I still lacked a solid plan but suggested beginning in Washington, DC. From there, I recommended the Black Hills, adding he should see the Crazy Horse Monument before proceeding to Yellowstone and/or the Tetons.

Next, I advised, head south and west to Salt Lake City, veering off to The Grand Canyon. Afterwards, fly to San Francisco to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. With any time, money, or energy left, I suggested flying to Seattle—maybe managing to hook up with a cruise ship destined for Alaska.

My new friend thanked me for my ideas, but I think he still felt the allure of NYC.

Yes, I recognize my itinerary leaves out huge swaths of our country, its history, and culture. I happen to love West Virginia and New Orleans. I know many would insist Mount Vernon and Monticello are a must for anyone visiting Washington. My preferences, Lincoln’s Tomb and Birthplace, probably do require too much travel off the beaten path. For me, they evoke more poignant memories than Washington’s and Jefferson’s plantations. I hope I conveyed the “real” United States is more than the East and West Coasts.

What do you think? Where would you send a foreign visitor with 21 days to see the USA? 

******When AB isn’t lolling on trans-oceanic cruises, she lives and writes just off the fast lane in Silicon Valley. Her American Journey began in Southern Missouri, after which she lived in Bolivia, Kansas, North Carolina, Florida, and Argentina. Book 3 in The MisFit Series, The In-Between Years is now available from Amazon.  Look for Book 4, The Reckless Year on November 17—just in time for Thanksgiving.










LAUGHTER, MISFITS, POLITICIANS, AND JAILTIME

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By AB Plum

Laughter, they say, is good for the soul. In The MisFits, my dark psychological thriller series, few characters laugh. The question remains open, does Michael Romanov, the main character, have a soul?

This deep philosophical question leads my writer’s mind to ask: Do politicians have souls?

Too many of them, like Michael, are self-serving. Easily corrupted. Filled with hubris. Convinced they know more than the rest of us. Lacking in empathy—though they can fake compassion if it serves them. The list could go on, but this is a blog—not a book series.

If the above description sounds cynical, maybe I’ve been at my keyboard writing about the dark side of human nature too long. But I think Michael Romanov could run for president—and maybe win because he’s charismatic, straight-talking, ignorant about his ignorance, and a master manipulator. Oh, and did I mention proud?

Woe unto anyone who dares laugh at Michael. In his view, jail time for such an offense would carry mandatory hard labor as part of the sentence. (Or since he’s a full-blown psychopath, he might choose murder to save face).

If I sound as if I’ve slipped off the cusp of reality, have you read about the woman arrested for laughing at a comment about AG Jeff Sessions during his confirmation hearing? 


Yes, the arrest happened. The judge threw out the jury’s guilty verdict but allowed a new date for another trial. So, what should we believe now?
  • ·        Laughter is the best medicine?
  • ·        Laughter is against the law?
  • ·        Laughter is good for the soul?
  • ·        Laughter can put you in jail?

Once we answer these questions, others pop up:
  • ·        Does a snicker carry the same possible penalty as a laugh?
  • ·        Where does a laugh end and a guffaw begin?
  • ·        Can we still use LOL in emails without fear?
  • ·        Should we ban giggles, chortles, chuckles, titters, and sniggers?
  • ·        Are cackles okay in the privacy of our own homes?
  • ·        Are babies exempt from arrest or must we teach them to stop smiling and laughing?

Perhaps to play it safe, we need to ignore Abraham Lincoln:  “With the fearful strain that is on me night and day, if I did not laugh, I should die.”

********************
When AB’s not writing about murder and families, she laughs a lot on daily hikes, aerobic dancing, and watching old Nick and Nora movies in Silicon Valley, just off the fast lane. She’s allowing herself a big smile every day through Friday, September 15. That’s the date when The In-Between Years, Book 3 in the MisFit Series will go live on Amazon.


















NO LONGER A TEXTING VIRGIN

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By AB Plum

Once, long ago in a faraway galaxy, I vowed never, ever, under any circumstances would I text.
Keeping that oath proved easy for a long time. I secretly felt a kind of snobbish pride for refusing to follow the herd. Hey, I knew friends who bragged they texted in bed before going to sleep. Some claimed they texted in their sleep. One friend crossed the street without looking either way, stepped in a pothole, and broke her ankle while texting.

Yes, I loudly—indiscreetly—disdained dependence on “electronic pacifiers.” I swallowed judgments about addictive behaviors.

Of course anyone who’s ever sworn such pledges or scorned similar vices—er, I mean, behavior—knows what’s coming.

Just desserts. Punctured pride. Public confession.

Earlier this summer, I chatted face-to-face with a young tekkie about helping me create a video for my Amazon author page. We worked out several details about communicating. I thought I made clear my preference of email rather than by phone or text. I thought she agreed. She left, and I shot off an email with a summary of our agreement.

No return message the next day gave me pause. Day Two, I found four texts from her.

I could’ve called—except she’d told me she hadn’t set up her voice mail and rarely answered her phone because she and her friends texted.
Continuing to email her made little sense.

So, I put my thumbs to keyboard. Human thumbs are amazing digits—necessary for all kinds of tasks requiring dexterity. Some evolutionary biologists suggest our thumbs may have helped the brain develop. I hope not. My thumbs definitely failed to expand that part of my brain required to master those infinitesimally tiny keys on my cell phone.

Cursing and stamping my foot didn’t help. Pep talks about my fast typing skills never sparked—let alone fired—a single neural synapse. Gritted teeth hurt my jaw, but I finally took a deep breath.

After repeated tries—I refuse to specify how many tries constituted repeated—I managed to type Ck email pls. My thumbs throbbed. I pressed SEND, pumped my hand in the air, and vowed, “Never again.”

Seconds later, my tekkie assistant texted, “Cmptr unavbl. bad time to tlk. pls txt me.”

Numbers to set the time of day for another consult, I quickly discovered required far more dexterity than letters of the alphabet. But … there’s a tradeoff. Forget wasting time on spaces. Or paragraphs. Capitals, commas, and spelling? Hang-ups from formal writing. Unnecessary in casual speech—which is what texting really is.

Over the next hour, I texted a total of three short—very short—messages. But my texting efforts came to nothing. My tekkie assistant informed me she was leaving town the next day and couldn’t take on my video project after all. She closed with an emojican I interpreted as relief vs regret.

Okay, I’ve lost my texting virginity, but my texting days are behind me. Honest. Instead, I’m putting my energy into goat yoga.

*********** When she’s not practicing goat yoga or commenting on texting, AB Plum writes dark, gritty psychological thrillers in the heart of Silicon Valley. Since no texting is required for publication of her MisFit Series, Book 2, The Lost Days is scheduled on August 15. 

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Impact of Upcoming Total Solar Eclipse and Goat Yoga

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By AB Plum

Have you ever noticed how the perfect plans you make so often fall apart? Go straight to hell in a handbasket? Turn quiet to chaos?

The end of June seemed perfect for two home projects: 
  • installing new carpet in the MBR 
  • painting all the woodwork throughout the house. 


Tricky to get the timing of each job right—painting first, carpet second. Packing and repurposing required a lot of planning and our sweat. But we pulled off both jobs pretty much as planned.

Thought we were home free. Paid contractors. Moved on. 
  • Started making sure we grasped all the details about our trip to Oregon to view the total solar eclipse with our son and DIL. 
  • Confirmed our reservation in Bend—handled totally by our wonderful DIL. 
  • Double checked our airline reservations. 
  • Reconfirmed time of pickup at PDX..

Feeling good. Good enough to think about getting our house back in order after the painting and carpet installation.

Then, wham! The washing machine turned on me. Died three days before July 4.The tea towels and table cloths and napkins started breeding in the laundry room. Opening the door put us at peril. 

My husband’s back also went out the same day—meaning boxes of stacked books sat here, there and everywhere but on the shelves. 

Yes, every appliance store had the stackable units we wanted in stock—somewhere in Outer Mongolia, requiring ten days shipping to Northern Cal. Call after call, online search after online search, confirmed this fact.

In the meantime, the laundry was rumbling against the door trying to erupt from the laundry room and take over our house like lava. 

Our tempers … simmered. We gave in to a rant or two. We lived in a huge metro-area. Yes, July 4th loomed two days away. But …

What was happening? Was it the planets converging for the upcoming eclipse? How the heck does goat yoga fit in here?

Somewhere in between Internet searches for washer/dryer combos that fit in our space and didn’t require additional plumbing and/or electrical updates, a link to a YouTube video distracted my scattered attention. Watching it once, then twice more in the same setting, I laughed enough I finally corralled my “downer.”

Goats in a yoga class did the trick.

Just like in the movies, the next place I called did, in fact, honestly, truthfully, have the washer and dryer we wanted in their local warehouse. Yes, they would, absolutely on the head of the salesman’s first-born son, deliver said purchase to our home on July 4!

Uh-huh. Riiight. Yeah. I swallowed the impulse to demand the salesman’s home address.

July 4. Zoom in on me doing the happy dance when two young men arrived at 8:00 AM, installed the new appliances, gave us a demo, loaded the dead washer and companion dryer on their truck, and left by 9:15.

Whistling, I immediately loaded the washer. While it purred away, I turned on my computer, fired up the goat yoga video, and laughed through three re-runs. 

The solar eclipse was still on track (as if it wouldn’t be), and my husband’s back was better. What more could  I wish for—except my books magically back on the shelves? I’d then have time for goat yoga!

********************
When AB’s not shelving books or washing clothes or watching goat yoga videos, she writes dark, gritty psychological thrillers. Unless the roof falls in, she plans to release in mid-August  The Lost Days, Book 2 in The MisFit Series.