Fail-Whale Snacks

Sharon Wildwind

My husband and I try to keep up. Honest we do. We hang around his college-age cousin, and have several college-age and 30-something friends. We even occasionally ask for simultaneous translations of 20-speak. But once in a while we end up in a conversation or on a web address at which we stare helplessly, knowing that what we’re hearing or reading is in our first language and that, individually, the words make a kind of sense, but strung together in this particular DNA-word-sequence, simple speech has mutated into something else.

Twitter Fail-Whale Snacks on User Avatars
Oprah gets pwned by Shaq on Twitter
Reblogging without Curation
Don’t crush the bunny

Through dint of effort and good Internet search techniques, we have managed to figure out three of the above four statements. Don’t crush the bunny still has us stumped, though we suspect it may be something like jumping the shark—let me tell you how long it took us to figure that one out.

I did a head count this past weekend. In my lifetime, I have learned more ways to do CPR than I care to remember, and at least 5 different methods—which my dental hygienist swore each time—was the absolutely final word on the correct way to brush my teeth. I can now be comfortable in spelling the possessive-singular of words ending with a “s” as Johnsons’s, instead of the Johnsons’ I learned in grammar school.

I mastered the Gestetner mimeograph machine, the Electrofax, and every generation of photocopier since 1960. Yes, photocopy toner is hazardous to your health, and if you get any on your skin, you should scrub it off right away.

I can barely remember, in my grandmother’s town, calling central to be connected to another party of the phone line. Our family’s first phone number was 5 digits. My mother made me memorize it when I was three years old—in case I got lost and needed to tell the police how to reach my parents—and I still remember that phone number. I’ve coped with 7-digit numbers, area codes, country calling codes, direct dialing, punch-1-for-sales/punch-2-for-service electronic call routing systems, and the intricacies of five different models of cell phones that we use at work.

I can program a coffee-maker, dual-alarm clock, coded locked box, door alarm system, digital pedometer, programmable sewing machine, CD and DVD players, and big-screen TV, but somehow lack the gene for the video-tape player, with which I have never, ever been able to successfully do anything other than turn on and off and find play or rewind. We will ignore the fact that, three years after I purchased my first CD player, I discovered by accident that I could ask it to play a CD multiple times, and could actually instruct it to skip cuts on the CD that I didn’t care to hear. For three years I'd been getting up and racing across the room to manually advance the CD to the next cut when a tune came on that I didn't like.

Now I am going to conquer Facebook and Twitter. In the words of country music singer, writer, and gubernatorial candidate Kinky Friedman, “How hard could it be?”

Why am I putting myself through this? Because I have to do a marketing campaign for a new book that comes out in the fall, and if I don’t do this, I’m going to be behind the curve.

Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Plan your marketing campaign, then figure out how social sites can be part of that campaign. They are one tool, not the whole campaign.

There are sites that will explain to you how to get started. Some are good, some aren’t. I’m smart enough to figure out which ones are which.

If you’re interested in Twitter, you might have a boo at the Twitter site. Watch the video in the upper right hand corner of the home screen. It’s one of the most inventive use of simple graphics that I’ve seen in a video. Makes me almost want to try a book trailer, using similar techniques.

You might also try some of the material by John Kremer. No, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what all those strange words Kremer uses mean. I’m still treading water here myself.

Contrary to what I originally thought, I’m not at the mercy of every other user out there if I create a social site. There are ways to limit who I interact with. There are also ways to keep the time spent per day on the social sites to a manageable limit. There are ways to reduce the identity theft potential.

Who knows, I might even eventually find the answer to that bunny thing. See you on the Net.

__________
Quote for the week:
Words are harder than buttons.
~John Gruber, techi guy, at the South by Southwest Conference, April 2009

The Road Trip That Stole My Essence

by Julia Buckley
I had no idea what a feeble person I was until I embarked upon that rarest of adventures (for me): the road trip. My niece Anna has graduated from high school, but she has the audacity to live in the deep, deep countrified air of Indiana. In order to reach her house you must pass through endless cornfields, seven towns that look identical (and include the small-town staples of a tiny theater, two hardware stores, a laundromat, a giant courthouse, and a gas station so clean it is obviously not related by blood to any gas stations in big cities).

In order to honor Anna and her parents, I agreed to join a family caravan that wended its way through Illinois and Indiana. Our route took us first to my parents' house (they were our leaders), a good hour south of us, and then off to the graduate's house--another three hours. Then we arrived at my brother's beautiful home and attended the graduation party for about three hours, then four hours home again.

For the young and energetic, this is not a big deal. I can say this with some confidence, because my passengers consisted of three rambunctious boys, two of them teenagers, and their energy never flagged. Not for eight hours of driving.

I had hoped that on the way home they might feel subdued by the endless ribbons of road, dotted by its inevitable decor of country roadkill. On the way to the event, my son Ian had persuaded me to listen to an entire Queen CD at top volume. I did this, and by golly I enjoyed it. We sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" together, even the lyrics no one knows. My sons and their cousin Dan were duly impressed by my rock n roll coolness level.

So on the way home, I figured I could get them to cooperate by listening to an Elliott Gould recording of Raymond Chandler's TROUBLE IS MY BUSINESS. And they tried. But they are boys, and they found Elliott Gould sort of boring, and soon they were yelling over his discreet reading.

"AHHHHHGGGGG!" yelled Ian, his head stuck out the window.

"Ian, stop it. Pull your head in here." He did, sadly. "Stop yelling out the window," I ordered.

He looked at me as if to say that I used to be cool. Perhaps he was remembering the Queen song.

"Mom, yelling out a window on an empty road is a victimless crime," he said.

I thought about this, then agreed. Even the cows hadn't seemed to notice. His voice, loud as it had been, was merely lost on the wind at 70 miles per hour.

My mistake was in agreeing. Soon three heads were out their respective windows, yelling merrily, sharing their barbaric yawps with the world.

Then Ian decided that he would try "acting."

"My BARN!" he shrieked as we passed a barn. "It's on FIRE!!!!" (It was not). "My BARN!!!! AHHHHHH-HAAAAAHHHHHHH-AAAAAGHHHHHHHH!" This was his dramatic crying. It was over the top, but when you're screaming out a window for the pure joy of it, anything goes.

I felt a burst of envy. I wished that I could reclaim the joy of screaming out a window on an open road at fourteen years old. It looked really fun. But I had to keep my eyes on the concrete--that's what we adults do.

When we finally, finally, finally reached home at about nine-thirty at night (we'd left at nine in the morning), I was tired. I sat down and greeted my husband (who had stayed home in order to go to work) and then fell asleep in my chair.

The next morning I woke up long enough to send my sons to their respective obligations, and then I fell asleep again--FOR FIVE HOURS. I haven't been this tired since I drove to Bouchercon in 2006.

What I've learned is that I am a terrible traveler. I can't even drive without losing a chunk of my energy resources, and yet my young charges bounced back instantly. They capered around today as though they had never taken a long ride.

I'm starting to wonder if yelling into the wind gave them some of that youthful energy. Or maybe it was that lovely fresh air in one of the towns we drove through--towns with names like Enos, Flora, Brackney, Ganges.

Some night this summer I'm going to take a drive by myself in the dark. I'll find a road that isn't too trafficky and I'll roll down my window and yell up at the moon. I want to see if it makes me feel younger. Maybe some of the crow's feet will be gone in the morning--or maybe I'll just stay awake for the whole day.

It will be worth the try, right?

Men of Mystery quiz

After our Women of Mystery quiz, it was suggested by several readers--all male by the way--that we should do a male version. Ta da! Here it is. Twelve authors chosen because they were part of my library's recent display of mystery and suspense writers.

Check back Sunday evening for the answers. Good luck!

1. This author created Elvis Cole and Joe Pike who made their debut in The Monkey’s Raincoat. Robert Crais

2. This thriller writer has won an Edgar, A Shamus and the Anthony award. His titles include Tell No One and No Second Chance. Harlan Coben

3. This writer created ex-cop turned detective, Matt Scudder and wrote one of my favorite books, When the Sacred Ginmill Closes. Lawrence Block

4. His main character, Hitchcock Sewell, a funeral director was introduced in The Hearse You Came In On. Tim Cockey

5. His wife, Faye, and son, Jesse, are also writers. Jonathan Kellerman

6. Although he wrote several books featuring lawyer Matthew Hope this author is probably best known for his books about the police officers in the 87th Precinct. Ed McBain

7. Stacy Keach brought this author’s hard-boiled creation to life on television. Mickey Spillane

8. The late Robert Urich played this writer’s popular detective on TV. Robert Parker

9. He is the creator of Jack Reacher. Lee Child

10. His books, featuring detective Jacqueline Daniels, are named for drinks. JA Konrath

11. Janaury 19th was the one hundredth anniversary of this writer, author of The Tell-Tale Heart. Our mentor, Mr. Poe

12. He is the author of The Mark, The Guilty, and The Stolen. Jason Pinter

And now a personal note. This will be my last post as one of the Deadly Daughters. I'm taking some time to take care of a health issue. Thank you to all our readers, and a special thank you to my blog sisters; Sandra, Liz, Sharon, Lonnie and Julia. You're the best.

Writing non-fiction . . . it ain't as easy as it looks.

By Lonnie Cruse

Yes, my step-mother--the teacher--did teach me not to use the word "ain't." But sometimes I need that word. I need lots and lots of words. So if you have any extra words lying around, I'd be happy to take them off your hands or out of your mouths. Really, really happy.

My writing ability and/or muse has been scarce for several months. Think hen's teeth. A regular blog post here, a newsletter article there, tons of e-mails, but nothing in the way of writing a manuscript. This is partly because I'm already under contract for the second in the Kitty Bloodworth/'57 Chevy series, one edit finished, twiddling my thumbs over the keyboard space bar until the second and final edit arrives and I can work on it. But there is nothing I can actually do with that manuscript until that edit arrives.

The third in the '57 series is finished but needs a major re-write, which I am not disposed to do right this minute. This hour. This day. This week. This month. This year. This decade, which will be over before we know it. But a writer writes. Doesn't she? So what should I write?

For a very long time I've wanted to write a non-fiction book on prayer, for women. I mean, how hard can that be? Particularly when compared to writing fiction? No characters to create, find suitable names for, create a background for, then bring to life, so much so that readers will take up arms and march if the writer so much as harms one fictional hair on the character's head. No settings to carefully research so as not to have one-way streets running in the wrong direction in some major city. And no fictional settings to dream up that will seem real to the reader. No victims to kill off, no murderous method to look into to be certain it's carried out "correctly," no solid alibis to carefully dream up and then just as carefully destroy. No bringing the perp to justice after having her/him confess so all the threads tie together neatly while making it all seem to flow naturally. Whew. This non-fiction project should be easy.

It ain't easy.

I'm still having to carefully research the subject, including doing a survey with as many women as I can. I've bought dozens of books on the subject (to see what others wrote about it, so I'm not doing the same old same old) and my wallet is now a safe haven for moths. I won't bore you with the rest of my research, let's just say, um, it ain't easy.

As with the start of any manuscript, I sat down at the computer, opened a blank document, looked at the blank screen, and my eyeballs froze. Along with my brain. I mean that page is just so, uh, BLANK. So I typed a title, which I won't take time to share, because authors don't always get to use the title they pick. That's up to the publisher, assuming I can find one. One thing that gave me the courage to go past the title page was having a friend who is contracted to a publisher who is looking for this kind of book. Possibly a toe in the door? We shall see.

Next I did a table of contents (or TOC to those of you who figured out those initials before I did.) That kind of helps me focus on what I want in each chapter. Gives me something to hang my ideas on. So off I go with chapter one.

And I quickly discovered that non-fiction has the same saggie baggie middle that fiction is so famous for and so dreaded by writers. You know how you want to start the book, and how you want it to end, but what in the world are you going to say on all those pages between all those chapters? Eeek!

Don't even get me started on footnotes, cross references, bibliographys, or an ibid, (anybody remember that dreaded word from high school? I'm not even going there in this book.)

So like any intelligent writer suffering from writing willies, I don't buckle down first thing every day to write. Instead, I check e-mail. Do dishes. Start laundry (which gives me an excuse thirty minutes later to stop and fold same.) Eat. Drink my tea. Ask myself why in the world I ever started this project in the first place. Ask myself who would ever want to read it, assuming I can get it published. Which reminds me that this is the very same angst I feel when writing fiction.

Then the book actually starts to come together, or maybe even take off in a direction the writer hadn't expected. I certainly didn't expect it. But I like it. I might even be on to something, assuming I can stop folding laundry long enough to finish typing it.

Writers who can sit down at their computers, spit out a wonderful manuscript, fire it off to their editors, and get it into print with few, if any, edits, are extremely rare. And extremely likely to be whacked over the head and dropped into an empty elevator shaft if caught bragging about it. Most of us push ourselves through the hard parts, stressing over each and every chapter, particularly those in the saggie baggie middle. Stressing over whether we can finish it, whether or not a publisher will be willing to publish it, or if readers will be willing to read it. Yet we do the job over and over. Because we have to. Because we have stories to tell, be they fiction or non-fiction.

Still, it ain't as easy as it looks.

How to convey a point of view without being preachy

Elizabeth Zelvin

In my panel on "Tackling Social Issues" at the recent Malice Domestic, every one of us considered avoiding preachiness an essential requirement for putting across a point of view on a serious social issue. The authors—Pari Noskin Taichert, Clea Simon, Marion Moore Hill, and I—represented a broad range of serious themes, including bigotry of various kinds, the environment, addictions, and the treatment of feral animals, the last more controversial than I’d realized. One aspect of the topic that came out in the panel, about which I’ve been thinking ever since, is the variety of ways that authors sneak their point of view into their mysteries.

The most popular way to avoid preachiness is revision. Several of us cited the need to rewrite and delete heavy-handed passages about our pet peeves and hobby horses. The uninhibited first draft of my mystery series, with its focus on recovery from alcoholism, other addictions, and codependency, also includes far more explanation of the mores of twelve-step programs than anyone will want to read.

As I’ve become a more experienced writer, I’ve become more willing to slash, slash, slash. Ever since a powerful workshop in 2006, I’ve found the offending passages leap out at me when I reread the first draft. And when I review each revision, even more cuttable preaching pops up. Most recently, I’ve realized there is more to why these passages must go than simply to avoid irritating the reader. Preachiness is the enemy of pace. When my protagonist Bruce muses about AA, it stops the action. I have to find ways to make the AA principles serve the action, build character, and advance the story.

My point of view is that alcoholism is a disease and recovery is transformative. But Bruce would be unbearable if he constantly plugged that point of view. Instead, I’ve given him a sardonic ambivalence that is much more palatable to the reader. Bruce’s mixed feelings about recovery create internal conflict, one of the key elements in building a fictional character, while they also get the point across. A T-shirt expressing Bruce’s attitude toward recovery might say: “Gimme a break!” He is constantly rolling his eyes over some AA platitude—and then experiencing its inner truth.

My sidekick character Barbara carries another theme that is important to me, that of codependency. Barbara is addicted to rescue and control and to minding everybody’s business out of an excessive desire to help. Having gone to Al-Anon for many years, Barbara is not at all ambivalent about the point of view that becoming overinvolved with or even giving advice to others is a way of distracting herself from her responsibility to manage her own life. She knows that fretting over what other people think undermines her self-esteem, that she can’t “fix” anybody but herself, and that she can’t blame others for her feelings or choices.

If Barbara had all the virtues she’s striving toward, she’d be insufferable. So I’ve made her a chronic backslider. She is constantly being derailed by nosiness, embarrassment, and a desire to run the lives of others. Her T-shirt would say: “Oops!”

One way for the author to gain some distance from the character who represents an issue is to put that character in third person rather than first. That’s what happened with Barbara. Originally, she was a co-protagonist rather than a sidekick and alternated first person chapters with Bruce. Bruce’s voice was sardonic and clever, with a lot of heart hidden under the bravado of the newly sober alcoholic. Barbara was self-conscious and digressive and, yes, preachy, no matter how much I revised the manuscript. In retrospect, I suspect she was too much like me. I was too invested in her point of view, and the result was alienating to readers.

Demoting her to sidekick and putting her few point of view chapters in the third person made her much more palatable and more successful as a character. Reader reactions to Barbara vary: some find her endearing, some hilarious, some inspiring, and some annoying. But they don’t forget her, and I think they come away knowing more about codependency and why codependents need recovery.

My fellow panelists suggested a few more techniques for avoiding preachiness. We all agreed that “show, don’t tell” served not only the roundedness of characters but also the integration of serious themes.

Someone said it helped to give the villain a point or two rather than making him or her completely bad and wrong. That made me realize that, unlike some authors, I don’t bestow my point of view and its opposite directly in my characters. Many writers do, pitting good environmentalists against evil developers or good feminists against evil polygamists. It’s good technique to present flawed good guys and let the reader empathize a bit with bad guys.

But I don’t create drunks as foils for my sober characters in Death Will Get You Sober. Several characters, including Bruce, carry the theme of addictive relationships in in Death Will Help You Leave Him.While Bruce’s sidekicks Barbara and Jimmy do have a good relationship, I don’t set them up as role models. Maybe what saves the character-driven mystery from turning into a sermon is simply: Nobody’s perfect!

Toxic People and Murder Plots

Sandra Parshall

When anyone asks where I get ideas for mysteries – and people do ask, with surprising frequency – I reply, “All I have to do is look around, and I’ll see a million situations that could lead to murder.”

I’ve just finished and turned in a novel (Broken Places, scheduled for publication in March 2010) and haven’t yet started the next. As I consider plot ideas, I’ve been thinking a lot about groups that turn toxic, and how their inner machinations might give rise to murder plots. I'm not talking about hate groups formed with a negative purpose. I'm referring to benign organizations made up of ordinary, nice people who change character once they're swept up groups. If you’ve ever belonged to a group of any kind for any length of time, you probably know what I mean.

I’ve seen it happen again and again.

People come together with a common interest or goal. At first they’re all best buddies. We’re in this together, right? We want the same things, right? Whether the group is working toward change of some sort or simply pursuing a favorite hobby, everyone gets along beautifully.

Until.

Until somebody gets tired of doing things a certain way. Until somebody begins to believe the group has the wrong goal or is using the wrong tactics. Until somebody decides that she is queen bee and everyone else is a drone. Then, as the poet wrote, the center will not hold. Things start falling apart.

In a formal organization with elected officers and board members who are volunteers, one person may become much more emotionally invested than anyone else – perhaps because she cares deeply about the cause, perhaps because she has nothing else to fill her time, perhaps because she simply loves feeling important. She will take on many tasks, usually things no one else wants to do, or she devotes herself to one important job, and everyone becomes convinced that she is indispensable. At that stage, a diva is born. The situation can become toxic, with one person’s wishes and needs always taking precedence and no one daring to offend her. I’ve seen this up close. It wasn’t pretty. I quit the organization before I was driven to murder.

In environmental and political groups at the local level, differences over policy will eventually lead to splits, but until a group divides and the factions go their different ways, life can be hell for everybody. After the division occurs, the two sides are likely to be bitter antagonists. We hate no enemies so fiercely as those who were once our friends.

Some of the most maddening behavior I’ve witnessed has taken place in online groups of giant panda fans. (I’m serious!) These groups – and they are legion, some with a handful of members, some with hundreds, at least one with thousands – seem to attract two distinct types of people: those who want only to revel in the unsurpassed cuteness of pandas and imagine them possessing all sorts of human attributes, including the ability to speak (in baby talk); and those who care about individual bears and recognize their unique personalities but never forget that they are animals, not big furry children. Add in differences of opinion about the ways zoos house and care for the bears, and you have a guaranteed recipe for open warfare. (Yes, these are grown men and women, not kids.)

I won’t even get started about citizens’ organizations at odds over development, except to say it's a miracle that so few people have committed mayhem during zoning hearings.

Writers don’t have to look to the highest levels of government for conspiracies and enemies lists and mutterings about traitors and who can and cannot be trusted. We don’t have to put the fate of the world in peril to justify passion in our characters. All we have to do is get together a group of characters with a common interest and let human nature take its toxic course.

Critique Nightmares

Sharon Wildwind

Here’s the perfect critiquing scenario:

A writer asks me to critique a reasonable amount of her work. We exchange a couple of e-mails about our mutual expectations, and things look good as far as a match. Her piece arrives when I have free time to work on it. Her first sentence makes me groan with delight. I am immediately jealous. How come I can’t write this well?

Fortunately, several paragraphs into the story I find not only material I like a lot, but things that can be tightened, improved, etc. Now I’m no longer jealous and I can look forward to the task ahead. I read the piece and make comments. She at least respects my comments, but doesn’t slavishly follow every one of them. Goodness knows I’m wrong as often as I’m right. We exchange a few other e-mails and both walk away from the experience satisfied.

In my dreams.

More often critiquing runs like this:

I like her a lot, but I simply can’t do a decent critique of four hundred pages by next Tuesday. Yes, I know I promised I’d read her stuff. That was before the kids got the flu, my car’s transmission died, and I found out my editor wants a rewrite a whole subplot in three weeks. Oh, gosh, this chapter is so horrible, where do I begin? I feel about three inches tall that I made all those negative things about her main character, Bob. How was I supposed to know Bob is based on her brother who committed suicide when he was sixteen?

I think it’s extremely important for critique partners to talk to one another before the critique is done. These are the kinds of questions I usually ask:

How did you come to write this story?
What stage is the story at for you?
What was the most fun about writing this piece?
What was the hardest thing about writing this piece?
What is your timeline like?

In addition to helping me set the parameters of what I’m willing and able to offer the other person as to kind and depth of critique, they often help me identify, in advance, three common critique night mares: the Painting Book Writer, the Therapeutic Writer, and the Wouldn’t Turn it Down Writer.

The Painting Book Writer

Let’s start with a line from Dylan Thomas’s, A Child’s Christmas in Wales: “ . . . a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds.”

The Painting Book Writer writes for the sheer love of story. Grammar doesn’t matter, nor spelling, nor those pesky “writer things” like motifs, themes, character development and so on. To be a Painting Book Writer means to tell yourself a story on paper.

In fact, this is one of the easiest writers to critique because both of us can have fun with it. I’m not going to try to whip her story into shape for publication because that’s not what she’s after. She wants to share a story with someone else, so I know that my comments can concentrate on how well the story is told. I can usually end with something like, “If you ever decide to publish this piece, there are some things you’ll need to work on. Get back to me any time if you’re interested in going further with this.”

Likely, she’ll never get back to me. I’ve saved myself the experience of tearing my hair out over something that’s nowhere near ready to be published, and she’s gotten some positive strokes about her story.

I believe that all of us need to keep a corner for our own Painting Book Writer. No matter how good we get at the technical details, how well we come to know the writing business, we should always have at least one story that we are writing just to tell ourselves an enjoyable story.

The Therapeutic Writer

Unlike the Painting Book Writer, who is often fun to work with, the toughest critique to do may be one written by a Therapeutic Writer. Basically, a therapeutic writer has something impossibly difficult lurking in her past. She’s using writing as a way to make sense of what happened and to search for a healthier footing than she currently has.

Unfortunately, it’s all to easy to jump the queue. When a person achieves the first hard-won insight about abuse, alcoholism, rape, or a relative’s suicide, there is often a tremendous need to share that first insight with other people. By jumping the queue to reach out to others, she doesn’t have to continue to work on her own issues; her mission now becomes bringing the recovery she hasn’t yet experienced herself to others.

Therapeutic Writers are fragile. When writing is therapy, the writer needs to write; she does not need to publish. At least, not yet.

What’s needed here is to keep a balance between telling the writer how important it is for her to keep writing and encouraging her not to immediately jump into seeking publication.

The Wouldn’t Turn It Down Writer

Like the Painting Book Writer, the WTID Writer pays little attention to grammar, spelling or those pesky writer things. She often writes the same story over and over, and has trouble finishing anything. If asked about her intention to publish, she says shyly, “Oh, I’m not good enough be published, but I won’t turn it down if it happens.”

Secretly she means when it happens because she knows, just knows, that what she writes is so wonderful that a famous publisher will come along, recognize her hidden talent, and give her a beneficent contract.

The hardest part about critiquing the WTID Writer is that she can’t yet hear comments such as, “You need to get a basic grip on grammar, spelling, and how to format a book.” Her likely response is, “Oh, I don’t have to worry, when I get an editor, he’ll fix all of that.”

Sometimes all I can hope for is to suggest that she focus on one thing, such as, “Let’s concentrate on how you developed Nancy as a character. As a reader, this is how Nancy affected me . . .” Truthfully, who am I to say she’s not right. Maybe the publisher will come along. Maybe the contract will be terrific. If it is, I’ll try hard not to be jealous.

_________
Writing quote for the week:

There’s a hormone secreted into the bloodstream of most writers that make them hate their own work …. This, coupled with the chorus of critical reaction from those privileged to take a first look, is almost enough to discourage further work entirely.
~Francis Ford Coppola, director

Rethinking Charlie Brown in an Existential Age

by Julia Buckley
Now that I teach existential literature, I have a whole different interpretation of my childhood favorites, the Peanuts gang. My adult understanding of the cartoon is that Charles M. Schultz was a philosopher, and that he suffered from the same existential torment as has any hero from literature.

You know all the old Charlie Brown cartoons where Lucy tries to get C.B. to kick the football? He goes through agony trying to decide if Lucy is sincere this time--if he can trust her to leave the ball there so that he can experience one glorious kick.

Lucy always wants Charlie Brown to try, but she never allows him satisfaction. She pulls the ball away and Charlie Brown falls flat on his back--time after time.

I always found this scene odd for several reasons. For one, Lucy is never malicious. Her face is blank when she pulls away the football. The suggestion seems to be that Lucy, like the snake or the scorpion, is merely doing what is in her nature. She has to pull the ball away, because she needs to see people like Charlie Brown try and fail. She doesn't even take smug satisfaction in Charlie Brown's fall; she speaks to him calmly and walks away. For Lucy, the meaning of the universe is verified every time Charlie Brown makes his sad attempt.

For another, Charlie Brown knows what Lucy is. It isn't a matter of wondering whether or not he can trust her--he knows he cannot. Therefore, there must be something else compelling Charlie Brown to agonize over the "to kick or not to kick" decision. He is Hamlet on the ball field, and Lucy is his existential agony. For Charlie Brown, it probably doesn't matter either way. If he kicks it, he could fail. Since he is Charlie Brown, and has very little self-confidence, he most likely will fail. If she pulls it away, there is an excuse for his failure. Lucy is responsible.

Does this mean, then, that Charlie Brown NEEDS Lucy to pull the ball away, because it justifies his lack of prowess? And does Lucy, who dispenses "Psychiatric Help" for five cents a session, somehow understand this?

I often think that Lucy is too easily dismissed as a horrible person. Sure, she is a cartoon, but I find a great deal of existential truth in Charlie Brown.

The Existential Pumpkin Patch
Now on to Linus Van Pelt, one of my favorite cartoon characters; perhaps his greatest moments were those when he was anticipating the arrival of THE GREAT PUMPKIN. Not only is Linus one of the most appealing creations in all of fiction, but his simple belief in the Great Pumpkin, who would preside over the "most sincere" Pumpkin Patch on Halloween night, was the crux of the story. Linus represented the optimism that Charlie Brown could never quite muster, and there is beauty in all of Linus's speeches that are meant to make Charlie Brown take heart.

These boys are the Didi and Gogo of cartoon world, the little philosophers who show us the distance between hope and despair. Schultz's great success, I think, lay in the fact that he never condescended with his characters. The Peanuts gang spoke with wisdom, even world-weariness, and they were appealing to all ages.

When the Great Pumpkin never appears (except in the disillusioning form of Snoopy), Linus is dejected, but it is not long before he is planning for the next Halloween, and a more gloriously sincere pumpkin patch. Linus avoids the abyss because he clings to hope; Charlie Brown has been to the abyss, which is why he seeks pyschiatric help from Lucy, who doles out not Prozac, but common sense.

The heroism of the cartoon boys is similar to that of the men who wait for Godot; they may not always have the answers, but there is always hope, there is always tomorrow. Charlie Brown might actually get mail, and Linus might see something magical.

Mothers and the Daughters Who Leave Them

Beth Groundwater (Guest Blogger)


The relationship between mothers and daughters is one of the strongest and most loving of human connections. At the same time, it is fraught with conflict as the push-pull of adolescent daughters “leaving the nest” chafes both them and their mothers, rubbing emotions raw. The daughter needs to separate from the mother to become a self-sufficient adult. It’s very difficult to accomplish this without the two becoming estranged or at least strained as they find new ways of relating to each other.

I wanted to explore this tug-of-war between mothers and maturing daughters in To Hell in a Handbasket
after writing about the husband-wife relationship in A Real Basket Case. Both books are mysteries, where the plots focus on who-dunnit, but a significant subplot in each is the relationship issue that the amateur sleuth, Claire Hanover, must resolve. In both books the relationship issue is entwined with the mystery plot, so the resolution of one affects the resolution of the other.

This scene where Claire and her college-aged daughter Judy argue about clothing, one of the issues that mothers and daughters fight over the most, is a good example.

When Judy appeared with bleary eyes and tousled hair at the breakfast table the next morning, Claire asked her what she planned to wear to the memorial service.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it yet, with all the turmoil around here.” She plopped a ladleful of oatmeal into a bowl and started slicing a banana.

Ignoring the barb about the previous night’s argument, Claire asked, “Do you have a dark-colored dress?”

“On a ski trip?” Judy stopped her knife. “Are you kidding, Mom?”“What about black or navy pants and a subdued top?” Most of Judy’s tops could be described as lingerie, though if Judy had a dark-colored ski turtleneck, that might do.

“All I’ve got is ski clothes, jeans, and some strappy tops that I know you won’t approve of. But why’s it matter what I wear? What’s important is that we’re there to honor Stephanie.”

“And part of honoring her is showing the family that you care enough to dress respectably.” Claire mentally reviewed the clothes that she had brought with her. “Maybe I have something you can borrow.”

Judy tossed a skeptical glance over her raised spoon at Claire. “C’mon. All your stuff would hang on me.”

Ouch.

I wrote To Hell in a Handbasket while my own daughter was taking steps toward independence in her senior year of high school and freshman year of college. While I hope I wasn't as neurotic as Claire was over letting go of her daughter, it wasn't easy! I had nightmares about my daughter being abducted, raped, tortured, ensnared in the white slave trade, and whatever other horrors my fertile imagination could devise. I told her when she left for college that I needed to hear her voice at least once a week so I knew she was still alive.

Some of my critique partners, especially the men, didn't particularly like Judy, saying she was too cruel to Claire. But women who have gone through this stage with maturing daughters nod their heads and say, “been there, done that.” These emotion-fraught, struggling young women have to take their anger and disappointments out on some target, and they usually choose the safest one—their mothers. Our job as mothers is to absorb the onslaught with a wry sense of humor, while wiping that sly smile off our faces, knowing where the anger comes from, remembering doing it ourselves as adolescents, and realizing that this, too, shall pass.

Beth Groundwater’s first mystery novel, A Real Basket Case, was nominated for a Best First Novel Agatha Award. The second in the Claire Hanover gift basket designer series, To Hell in a Handbasket, has just been released. Between writing spurts, Beth defends her garden from marauding mule deer and wild rabbits and tries to avoid getting black-and-blue on the black and blue ski slopes of Colorado. You can visit her website at http://bethgroundwater.com.

Kindling, it's not just for starting a fire any more . . . or is it?

By Lonnie Cruse



After me hinting around, suggesting, and finally outright begging, my family chipped in for my birthday last fall, Christmas last December, and Valentine's Day last February with multiple gift certifs from Amazon. Whereupon I purchased a Kindle. And fell in love. But I already said that in other posts. Purpose today is to discuss what's available for Kindle, sigh, and what is not. Wheeee! And maybe look into the future of print books.

Where was I? Books on Kindle. There are a lot of vintage books which are no longer under copyright laws. Various groups are converting these books to e-files which can then be downloaded to a Kindle either from Amazon or other sites. Many are FREE! Others are minimal, like under a buck.

So far I've downloaded MYSTERY CLASSICS, A COLLECTION which includes The Gloved Hand, The Hand in the Dark, and The Old Man In The Corner. I've enjoyed what few pages I've read. THE EXPERIENCES OF LOVEDAY BROOK comes with illlustrations. wonderful mystery stories, etc. BULLDOG DRUMMOND by Herman Cyril McNeile, DR. THORNDYKE MYSTERIES, by R. Austin Freeman, THE CLUE OF THE TWISTED CANDLE by Edgar Wallace, ALICE OR THE MYSTERIES BOOK 01 by Edward Lytton, PHILO VANCE, 12 COMPLETE NOVELS, THE WORKS OF P. G. WODEHOUSE which are listed in mystery, and WHOSE BODY? by Dorothy Sayers. All under a buck or free. All snuggling on my Kindle. Books that would be hard to find or cost a lot more if I did find them. NOOO, I haven't read them all yet, but I have dipped a toe in the water of several. Some I'm enjoying, some are so so.

Collections I've downloaded not in the mystery genre are CLASSIC AMERICAN LITERATURE the works of Willa Cather, and CLASSIC AMERICAN LITERATURE, the works of Edith Wharton, CLASSIC CHILDREN'S BOOK by Lucy Maud Montgomery. This is stuff I *meant* to read and haven't. Now's my chance.

In the way of single books, not collections, I've downloaded OUR LADY OF PAIN by Chesney which I'm currently reading, LOIS THE WITCH (not sure of the genre there but it was an old book and the sample was interesting.) Just downloaded yesterday DEATH OF AN OBNOXIOUS TOURIST BY Maria Hudgins. She is a fellow Five Star author and I wanted to support her. Then there are some freebies like HIS MAJESTY'S DRAGON which looks like a fantasy and was FREE. Ditto for PERSUADER by Lee Child (which now has a price tag, you gotta grab the freebies fast) THE MYSTERY OF METROPOLIS, THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY, AND CRIME SCENE AT CARDWELL RANCH. If it's free, I download it. I can always delete if I don't care for the book.

My Kindle holds 1500 books. I'm no where near that number, but I'm working on it. I love being able to carry this many books at once, and more important, to switch to something else if what I've clicked into bores me.

I no longer even notice the page turning, which did bug me a bit at first, as it sort of blinks. My battery lasts a long time because I keep the wireless turned off unless I'm downloading. I can get samples of books to see if I might like them. I can remove books from the Kindle when I'm done if they aren't keepers. And I can order a book while riding in the car or reading in bed late at night, without the use of a computer.

All in all, it was worth the purchase, and the begging. I've even uploaded my own first mystery series to the Kindle library. I'm not getting rich, but I've sold a few.

Back to the purpose of this post, what's available on Kindle. Besides the vintage at low price, the newer books are coming out on Kindle. And this sparks a debate among owners. Sometimes new books are introduced for free (though I notice not as many as there were in February when the new Kindle came out) but many for a high price. So far I've avoided buying anything over $9.99 If I'm paying more than that, it would be for a book by an author I love, and I'd want to keep the *real* book. Some books are REALLY expensive, but rare. I was browsing by price yesterday but stopped when I found Kindle books for over $100. Say what??? Many of the books that have been in print this decade (and can you believe this decade is nearly over? Yikes!) are on Kindle, at a cheaper price than paperback.

Things that drive Kindlers nuts: The units can be a teensy bit delicate, so owners REALLY need to keep a Kindle in a case. I bought the suggested case and found a snappy little purse to drop the entire unit in, with the charger, when I travel. Free books quickly become books with a price, so you have to check nearly every day. The Kindle isn't backlit which doesn't bother most of us, but a few complain about it. And the NUMBER ONE complaint, NO folders. Meaning you have a list of books and samples on your home pages (I have five pages, sigh) that you must either sort by most recently opened/read or by title or by author. We would ALL love some folders to be able to drop the samples in one, new books into another, books read/but we're keeping them on the unit anyhow into another, etc.

I'm getting this info from the Kindle discussion lists, by the way. Most are pretty helpful. People also suggest books to read (or not read) there. And anyone having issues with their unit often post there, so the rest of us know what to look for or how to correct problems, should they arise. Of the thousands of units sold, most seem to work fine, but customer service has apparently been very helpful in fixing or replacing units that have problems.

I think the future of books and of the Kindle, will be remain like now, prices cheaper than paperback or hardback. Readers embracing the e-readers. And lots of publishers and authors jumping on the e-book bandwagon. However, enticing as Kindles are, I believe that my generation, while embracing Kindles, will still buy paperbacks and hardbacks, so it won't be until we are all gone and the techie generation (think under forty) becomes the new majority that print books *might* pass into history, with everyone reading on some sort of gizmo.

If you find that a scary thought, you're in good company. And you are over forty.