Of Good and Evil...

Yesterday didn't produce the writing results I wanted. Reading yesterday's chapter was a humiliating experience - I don't think I've produced such a totally off-the-wall scramble of the alphabet in a while. Cogitating on my literary mess, I came to the conclusion there was only one sane thing to do. Hit the copy and delete buttons. Gone.

So I started thinking about how it all went awry, and the answer was staring me in the face. I didn't know this bad guy, and this was his chapter. He has a role in the story that's rather important, and I've been blithely using him to further the character arc for everyone else. Now, however, it's critical mass time, and he's going to explode on me if I don't come up with his character arc and add some humanity to his denouement. I've been dancing around his evil because, in a way, I don't want him to be lost. But by toning him down, I've lost what made him delicious in the first place. So it's time to get some . . . .and do what I know has to be done.

Played hooky and spent an hour at the track yesterday afternoon as the Busch drivers tested for the May race. Busch drivers is quite a misnomer - I think they were all Cup drivers out there yesterday. The COT tests next week, so you know where I'll be - checking that ugly puppy out. Hey, even ugly puppies grow on you. So do wicked bad guys, sigh. I so want to like my evil character. Can't let it happen.

Daytona Pix!


Here're a few - just for fun. Hard to believe how cold it was one night (the truck races were in the 30's), and how warm it was during the Busch race in the afternoon. Anyway, more pictures will follow when I get a second. This is the crowd rolling into turn 1 after the start.

Clues

A couple of weekends ago, I spoke to the Chesapeake Sisters in Crime chapter about "Clues" - how to use them, etc., when writing mysteries. Using a Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston short story from an anthology titled THRILLER, I learned as much as the SinC group. The story's name is "Gone Fishing," and if you want to be surprised, read it. I counted five possible suspects, all logical, all creepy. The real culprit was there, but so cleverly hidden, albeit front and center in an unexpected way, that I couldn't guess "who done it." Give it a read, and see if you agree with me.

The group gave me a glass ornament filled with alphabet beads. I was confused until I read the tag tied to it: "Contains one Edgar (c) Award Winning Novel: Some Assembly Required." I laughed until I cried. So true. There're only so many letters in the alphabet, and we all use them. It's HOW we use them.

Holding on for dear life...

Where is spring? My poor daffodils droop like kindergartners told there'll be no recess. At least it means I'm in my office, working my fanny off. (Well, there's always hope, LOL, that the rear end will reduce because I'm writing, but I'm not holding my breath.) Working on a fun project is a good feeling - I love it when the words pour out onto the screen, and when I look up, it's dark outside and the family is looking for food from the kitchen, which isn't there. Food, not the kitchen.

LIES on LONGCREEK is turning into an intriguing project, with so many elements working their strands I'm braiding words like a macrame artist. LOLA sits while I let the first draft work its issues to the fore so I can read it with clearer vision. All in all, a great writing week.

Can't wait to see what happens at Bristol when they run the Car of Tomorrow (or Car of Today, more accurately.) The inimitable Mark Martin HAS to drive, if he's still riding No. 1 in the points.

Oh, just bought the new Bob Segar CD - and it's all new songs with all the p**s and vinegar of vintage rock. The real deal. LOVE it! The sad news is, I can't think of a radio format that'll play him except XM or Sirius.

Aftermath of Daytona

Taking back what I said about David Ragan, he redeemed himself in the 500 with a fifth place finish. And that David Gilliland! Did anyone notice the move he made from the grass to right in front of Biffle, I think it was? Sheesh, my heart races at the memory! Of course, the real story is the old dog racing the young gun for the finish line. Love Mark Martin, would have cried if he'd won, but Harvick...the man doesn't know how to get off the gas. What a stunning race. Folks will be talking about this one as a race for the ages.

Home now, wishing the Florida sunshine had followed me here. Getting back into the work groove is harder than I thought it would be. Ten days of playing spoiled me, and I'm gluing my tush to the desk chair so I won't be tempted to hop up and clean, fold, put away, and all the stuff that goes with coming home.

However, I do have a treat coming up in a month and a few days - a long weekend in NYC! Going to the PASIC conference for the first time to meet with publishing people and fellow authors. I love the creative energy that's a natural byproduct of gatherings like this.

Before I forget, has anyone out there read any of the NASCAR HQ romances? I was wondering what the general opinion of them is. HQ had samples for three new novels stuffed in the packet with the Daytona program, and they arranged for a speed dating session and other offshoots for race fans interested in their new line. Since I'm an old married lady, I didn't attend any of the speed dating gigs, etc., but I'd love to know if any of you all did. If so, how'd it go?

I'll get pictures up as soon as I can download them.

More Daytona....

The Gatorade Duels yesterday had more drama than War and Peace. Ward Burton (my hero!) got taken out by a rookie, and Juan Pablo Montoya proved he's a fast dude when he has the right stuff under his foot. Poor Brian Vickers - a blown tire creamed his Camry. David Gilliland displayed a true flair for racing with the Big Dogs - once more he's a rookie with an inbred feel for restrictor plate racing, while David Regan had me wondering if Jack Roush has lost his everlovin' mind.

Michael Waltrip and his gadzillion lost points before the racing even began was the real drama. Good for Michael, making the race on sheer driving ability! He took a disaster and turned it into a good story. It's like the manuscript that is such a mish-mash you think there's no way it'll ever come around and fly right, but with hard work, determination, and talent, it finally takes off and becomes a book. Waltrip gets my GUTS award. Good, Unstoppable, Tries to Succeed.

Daytona!

The Bud Pole Shootout last night was a wild and wicked race, but nothing compared to the ARCA race just prior. The beatin' and bangin' in the ARCA race was nothing short of brutal. It's also clear as glass that women drivers aren't accepted or even tolerated in NASCAR. Erin Crocker got spun just because someone could spin her, I swear. Too bad. Drag racing has a ton of women driving, and they're just another competitor. The nice news from the Pole Shootout is how David Gilliland drove his way up to second, with help from veteran Ricky Rudd. It's interesting how the vets want to help the new guys. It's like the writers I know, who love helping newbies improve their craft.

Lovely to be warm for a change!

Flipping It

No, I'm not talking about Carl Edwards and his backflip off the car when he wins. (Which he didn't do once last year in the Cup races, sigh.) I'm thinking of taking what we would expect in a story line and giving it the flip-it treatment. Stand it on its ear, end-to-end, you name it, just give your plot line a twirl and see where it lands. Cinderella is the prince, not the girl. The bad guy isn't really your bad guy, he's the hero. Miss Wouldn't-Hurt-a-Fly killed her husband. See what happens when you use the tried-and-true and shake it up. Bet it adds just that twist your story needed. As an exercise, take a fairy tale you know well, and rewrite it with a "flip." Get outrageous. I'll bet your creativity has as much fun as Carl when he wins a race.

We're off to Daytona for Speed Weeks. Can't wait, but I'm also torn about leaving my work. I'll take the laptop and work when I can, but it's not the same as hiding in my office and getting the words out. I need to be productive when the weather is as wicked as it's been recently, because spring is a-comin', and I'll want to work in the garden. My crocus are up, and I'm worried about the tulips and daffodils that were fooled by the January warmth. Here's hoping Daytona is warm and sunny. I'll pack sunscreen as a gesture of optimism.

Yikes!

If you've tried to email me through my website for the past week or so, I owe you an apology. I didn't realize, when I shifted my site from Xuni to Lunarpages, that the webmail feature didn't go with it. Been trying to get it up and running, and I think I have a patch in place, but if you really, really need me, add a comment here. Hopefully, I'll get back to you.

Between watching Preseason Thunder on Speed (more, more, she cried!) and trying to stay warm, (what happened to our lovely weather?), I've been thinking, plotting, and generally brainstorming a new idea for a western mystery series set just after the Civil War. (Or, as we Southerners call it, The War of Northern Aggression.) It's fun to think about, fun start building characters, but I have to remind myself, LOLA needs to get through this first rough polish and rewrite. Not my favorite part, even though I know what the story needs, and it's just a matter of doing the job. That first rush of a new story keeps me up at night, sometimes, dreaming of ways it could go, people who live in it, and how they're going to find their way out of the predicaments I'll throw at them. It's rather like getting a new kitten - all you want to do is play with it. Then it grows up, and you realize it's work having a pet who has a mind of its own. (Biff, are you reading this from my lap? Naw, he's snoring, head on my arm as I try to type.)

Last weekend, we took off for a short break to Chincoteague, home of the Misty book I remember vividly from my childhood. I highly recommend the area, which is charming and, at this time of the year, uncrowded.

Warm weather, early daffodils, and fresh ideas

The South has been blessed recently with spectacular warmth, for which I'm very grateful. I remember one January when it hit 90 degrees F, which, thank goodness, hasn't happened this year. That was just too odd. We're heading into the 40s and seasonable cold next week, but I've enjoyed this respite, even if my daffodils are confused and won't be happy come March when they should be perky. Ideas are p0king through the surface for new stories, and I plan to nurture them through the coming months so they too can bloom when they should. I love this percolating stage, when I think about what's going to happen to these people and how they'll react. Meanwhile, I'm working on Lola, shaping it, cutting it, rewriting...is a book ever finished? Mine aren't. I want to rewrite them even after they're published.

Now that they're testing at Daytona, I feel as if the dark days of No-Nascar are over. Three more weeks, and Daytona, here I come! It's not the Florida sunshine I crave, but the scream of 800 horses on turn 4! Oh yeah, time to dust off the tailgating equipment, dig out the race flags to fly on the truck, find the sunscreen. What is it with the Dodges in the testing? The Toyotas are outrunning them! Go Dale Jarrett! I hope the Camrys give everyone a run for their money. It'll keep the season from getting stale, that's for sure. In our house, I drive a Toyota Sienna, and my husband's in a Dodge Ram full-sized, four door, honkin' big truck. You know it gets interesting when we discuss brand names and Nascar, LOL.

Branding - another interesting topic for writers. Do you feel cheated if a writer switches genres and goes in another direction? What if an inspirational Christian author begins to write sexy, hot erotica? Is that fair to the readers? Is it fair to keep a writer pigeon-holed? Hmm. I need to think about this.

January and Possibilities

Well, there I was. All ready to write for hours. House quiet. Cat curled up on the sofa. Dog asleep. The Muse kicking at the door. Boot up computer. Watch computer freeze. Watch computer fall into the abyss, taking printer with it. My one new resolution for this year is to forget yesterday. Ten hours of trying everything on earth I've ever learned about computers, and today I'm on my husband's.

So I started thinking about how Scarlett was right, there's always tomorrow. Just keep on keeping on. Get someone else to excise the computer's gremlins. Becoming a Luddite isn't possible, as much as I might want to. So instead of seeing yesterday as wasted effort, I'm thinking of it as a test - how much do I need to write? If the computer's buggy efforts can't derail me, nothing can. There's always a pencil and a legal pad, and to be honest, it felt wonderful to scribble away by hand for a while. Awkward, but wonderful. The words don't fail just because the hardware goes MIA.

Thank goodness.
Well, the Big Day is over, presents that didn't fit have been exchanged, and now it's time to put the whole shootin' match back in the attic. Yep, I want it all gone -the red candles, the crystal snowflakes dangling from the chandelier, the tree(s). First, though, I'm heading out to RIR to pick up my season tickets for the May race. (NASCAR, of course!) There's hope in this sad little heart of mine that just holding the tickets will sustain me until Daytona and Race Week festivities in February. Daytona, here I come!

I've been thinking a lot about the creative process this week. My dear husband gifted me with MOCKINGBIRD, a biography of Harper Lee, for Christmas. Friends of Miss Lee gave her a year's worth of financial support so she could write her book. I keep thinking, what if these 'angels' hadn't taken the author under their wings and provided her with the means to produce what is a classic novel about the South and racism? Would TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD ever have been written? Every artist needs the support of someone who believes in him/her. Van Gogh had Theo. DaVinci had the wealthy Medicis. Michelangelo had patrons all over the place. But they're visual artists. Who supports the writers of this world? Grants, yes, there're some of those out there. Film institutes give film makers some moolah. But most of the writers I know either teach (sucking creativity out of you by the ton) or labor at boring jobs they hate, praying to get home to their true work, albeit exhausted at the end of a long day. A few of us have the unwavering support of families who believe in us, and for this, I'm truly grateful. What a wonderful gift, that of emotional and financial support for something that seems so esoteric to those who don't write. It's rare, believe me.

Of Christmas and Odds and Ends

I feel as if this year is already over. Part of it is that I'm wrapping up some writing projects (as much as I ever can - I could rewrite forever), as well as doing the final wrapping on the boxes for under the tree. The family is all home, so my nest is fully feathered again.

Speaking of feathers, a young hawk has been using my yard for his buffet table. I ran into him by accident as he munched on a squirrel, and he and I stared at each other for what seemed to be quite a while. I think he was wondering if I was going to make a grab for his lunch, and I was wondering if he was interested in eating cat. Specifically, mine. The Biffmeister may have his yard forays curtailed until the Hawk finds fatter squirrels elsewhere. What surprised me most was this wildly beautiful creature treating a half acre of suburbia as if it were an unpopulated expanse of trees and critters. The way my mind works, I extrapolated this line of thought into the untamed and wild humans who don't know how or can't survive in civilization. I feel another plot coming on... Jeremiah Johnson was one of my favorite movies. Have to track it down and rewatch it. None of this makes sense, I know, but my mind is hopping around like Santa from chimney to chimney, and trust me, I know where I'm going.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, if I don't make it back before the 25th.

Ward Burton is Back!

Ward "I ain't got no rust on me" Burton has signed to drive for Morgan McClure Motorsports out of Abingdon, Va., and it's about bloody time! I'm doing the happy dance this morning as I wrap and clean and generally obsess about how much I have to do. At least I can look forward to cheering the #4 car next year. Counting the days until the Daytona 500 here...hanging on by my fingernails.

In spite of the chaos of Christmas entertaining (sigh, why do we do this to ourselves?), I'm getting work done on Darkroom. Still tweaking. Still searching for the perfect verb. Since I don't read in the genre I'm writing (and never will again, since judging the Edgars about did me in), I picked up Gillian Bradshaw's Hawk of May and Kingdom of Summer. They're the first two books of three, written in the early 1980s, and are a retelling of the Arthurian legend that's most original. I love the deft use of supernatural elements and the fight between the Light and the Darkness. Good books. I'm going to track down the third book in the trilogy and research her newer books as well.

My nestlings are coming home this week, so the house will be filled for Christmas. That's my present to myself. I hope you and yours enjoy your time together.

A Momentous Day

Today, my first born crosses the threshold into the age of full legal responsibilities and obligations. Yes, she's twenty-one at 2:30 this afternoon. I know it's a cliche, but where in the Sam Hill did the past twenty-one years go? We drove three hours to be with her yesterday and go out to lunch, but she was too busy to spend much time with us. That's the way it should be. I'm as proud as a mother could be of her, and consider her to be a nice person with a good heart - my strongest compliment.

Without NASCAR, (sob, sob!), I tried to fill my need for Speed by watching the NASCAR awards banquet. Please, get rid of Jay Mohr. He's an embarrassment. All in all, everyone looked uncomfortable in tuxes and best behavior. At least Denny Hamlin knew it ("Did I suck?"), and provided a rare moment of genuine humor, unlike Mohr's forced tackiness.

The fir tree is on the front porch, ready to come inside so I get decorate it. Colored lights are everywhere, and once I start the baking for my dad's 85th birthday party, it'll smell like Christmas as well as look like it. I love this run up to the 25th, but by the day after Christmas, I want it all down and packed away.

BTW, anyone have any ideas for gifts to give the man who has everything, and if he doesn't, he goes out a buys it?

Trying Again....

Well, my last post disappeared into the ether, and since time is of the essence this time of the year, I did the only sensible thing - shut down the computer and went on to the next chore.

But I'm baaaccckkkk. . . and now that the outdoor Christmas lights are up, I'm feeling more in the spirit of the season. The tacky NASCAR Christmas palm tree is lording it over the family room (yes, you read that correctly), and the traditional fir will go up soon in the living room. Oh, I loaded the palm tree up with red chili pepper lights, to add insult to injury. I'm entertaining this season, and I can't wait to see jaws drop when their owners see Tony Steward, Kasey Kahne, Mark Martin, and Carl Edwards all over the tree. The shock value alone will be worth the effort, LOL.

I ran into a lady looking for a good mystery/suspense/romsusp yesterday, and to my shock, the shelves were devoid of the authors I love to recommend. Not a one was out - and it's not a good trend. I know shelf space for booksellers is at a premium, but jamming Nora Roberts (merciful heavens, the woman is prolific) and Janet Evanovitch into every square inch doesn't leave room for other good authors. Enough with the backlists, please.

I'll be in and out in the next few weeks, inbetween all the hubbub and working on the umpteenth version of DARKROOM. I love this book, and it's not leaving my computer until I have it exactly where I want it.

Hope you all save some time for the writing. I know it's what helps keep me sane this time of the year.

Giving Thanks

Thanks go out to all the wonderful people who support artists with their pocketbooks. Without you, we'd be passing out booklets in the mall, begging for alms. Just wanted to let you know, every penny you spend on artistic products, whether it's a book or a photograph at your local art show, is a penny well spent and much appreciated.

I'm hosting the Big Dinner this year, so my writing time is taking a hit. I can plot as I mash, baste, peel, and saute', but it's harder, LOL. It's a lovely day, Thanksgiving, and I'm very appreciative of this opportunity to thank all the people who mean so much to me, for their love and support.

BTW, I just started Eileen Dreyer's HEAD GAMES, and she had me with the first page. Scary stuff, great hooks,and wonderful writing. I also finished Karyn Witmer's A SIMPLE GIFT, in case I didn't mention it, and it's a book you need to run, not walk, and buy. A rings-true story of a marriage in trouble because of a troubled child, and what happens when a surfeit of love is thrown back in your face. I cried. The ending is good, however, so all you HEA types will be satisfied.

On another and not so pleasant note, I hear there's a row between the prolific and well-respected Anne Stuart and an anonymous blogger who crowns herself Miss Snark. The issue is: can you ever criticize your publisher in public? Well, do you criticize anyone, except politicians, in public? Is it a Southern thing, to keep your complaints private? Probably, as it's very old-fashioned. I wouldn't have said (for print)what AS did, but she just has more balls than I ever will. Dirty linen and all that stuff. . . At least AS doesn't believe in rolling along with the status quo, which is a good thing for writers who want more.

And don't we all?

Still and all, gratitude pays huge dividends, and wanting, it seems to me, denies having the good already bestowed.

Goosebumps and the Writer

Have you ever had a perfectly good story idea, worked it out on paper, liked it, found it charming, but just knew it was missing something??? Boy howdy, has that happened to me a ton. I have a hundred pages in a new mystery series I really like, and after playing with the plot, the characters, the whole nine yards, it was good, but not great. Not where I wanted it to be. Then, after a session with my brainstorming babes, the inimitable Jenn, Carolyn, Nat, and Kathy, the TA-DA moment struck me like a Mac truck. Goosebumps all over. I knew, finally, what the story line needed to give it high octane gas. Dancing around the office is dangerous - those piles of books can trip you up if you're not careful - but I did share this plot gem with my writing peeps. They agreed - the Get-up-and-go factor had fallen into my brain. Yippee! I feel as if I've won the Cup this year!

Speaking of Cup runs, loved seeing Kevin Harvick up on the wheel yesterday at Phoenix. Harvick, you're the man. Johnson may take the Cup this year, but he hasn't won the races Harvick has. Running second all the time doesn't make you a winner in my book. Here's to next year, and a 2007 Cup champ I can respect. I want goosebumps when the winner takes the checkered flag. Harvick is one of the rare breed who can do that for me.