Feeling Philosophical

Sure hope I spelled that correctly. My spelling has become lazy with the advent of word processors. Having started in WP on the original Dell computers (the cognoscenti know how long ago THAT was), I think I can safely say the spelling is in the tank.

Anyway, yesterday on the way to church I saw thousands of those flimsy plastic bags, the sort used at huge chain stores, clinging to the barren branches of some trees and bushes populating a tract of unsold land. It was windy enough for them to flap like giant white bird wings, struggling for freedom from the enchaining scrub oaks and weedy bushes. For a second, I wondered what would happen if some magic turned those shredded bits of plastic into animate objects, and they did take wing. Would they fly heavenward like prayers, or fall into the muck again because they'd never learned how to properly flap their feathers?

Back to work on the paranormal. . .

Daytona is over. . .

big sigh. I know the rain wasn't going to end in time to finish the race before midnight, and I never would have sat in the stands through the deluge, but still - it would have been interesting to see if AJ Allmendinger could have worked his way to #1 from where he ended the race, in the three spot. Good race - Kyle Busch had the car to beat before he got wrecked. But none of the other Toyotas showed the brilliance everyone was expecting. Michael Waltrip and the 00 with David Reutimann, both out of the Waltrip stable, were the top-finishing Toyotas. All in all, I'm happiest for Allmendinger. The guy deserves every bit of success - he's a fighter.

The other bright spot for me was seeing Scott Riggs finish the race somewhere in the 20s. That'll help him and Tommy Baldwin keep racing for a while longer. Those guys have guts. I love the independents who lay it all on the line, gambling their money and their careers, to chase their dreams.

Now it's back to work - the paranormal took a back burner to Speed and Larry Mac and Jeff Hammond. It's hard to work on weekends when there's racing! We didn't trek to Daytona this year, so I really should have stayed with the laptop and done more writing, but it'll be there tomorrow morning.

Times they are a'changing

It's time to talk Nascar. The Bud shootout rolls off the starting line three days from now, and it's no longer the "Pole" race, limited to those drivers with engines and cojones big enough to win a pole position in '08. Now, it's a manufacturers' race. Sigh. Where's the history in that? I'll be glad to see something race other than the nitwits on Pinks (and no, I won't watch that show), so I suppose I should be happy Daytona is coming our way again.

W, as a society, need a lift. The truck series looks as if it's barely going to field enough trucks to make the racing interesting, and the Nationwide field doesn't look a whole heck of a lot better. Mike Wallace is still hustling for a ride in Nationwide, and how fair is that? He lost his personal sponsor, Geico, because Nationwide didn't want a competitor on a car in a series bearing its name. Think that'll endear Nationwide to the fans? Yeah, right.

Too many teams are winging it on prayers and promises from sponsors who have yet to sign on the dotted line. Fifteen new teams are registered for the 500, but how many of them will make the long haul to California the next week? The famed Wood Brothers will race only the 1.5 milers, and Yates will lose its iconic 38 if it doesn't line up sponsorship AND make the first five races, because they yanked its points and gave them to Menard, who has family money running his car. Again, how fair is that? (from now on, I'll have to shorten my sarcasm to HFIT.)

We'll see after California how things start to shake out. I'll personally miss seeing the #22 with Dave Blaney behind the wheel, and it looks as if the #4, given Larry McClure's conviction for income tax evasion, won't rise from the ashes anytime soon. I'll have to find another team to root for, but it won't be one of the biggies. Earnhardt, Gordon, Edwards, they all have enough voices shouting their names. I need an underdog who pulls out in front of the pack with flashes of brilliance. A David Reutimann, for example. Hmmm, I may have found my guy.

Today is a sad one because The Daly Planet is no longer an active blog site. Its owner and mentor, John Daly, is closing it down because he feels as it's more important to focus on helping Nascar survive than in dissecting television coverage of its events. Instead of complaining about Dr. Punch's boring race delivery on TDP's message boards, I'll have to do my grumping here, I suppose. And you all thought I was all sweetness and light, right?

It's a good writing week, with dreams about the characters following a day's worth of work, 12 pages or more. Can't ask for better. Racing is getting started again, and the book is flowing. Life is looking up.

Eclairs

I promised to post the recipe if anyone wanted it, and someone does, so here goes.

Puffs: boil 1 cup water, add 1/2 cup butter, stir until melted. Add 1 cup sifted flour and 1/2 tsp salt all at once, stirring vigorously. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until the mixture leaves the sides of the pan and resembles mashed potatoes. Remove from heat, let cool 1 minute, then add 4 eggs, one at a time, beating until smooth.

Drop heaping tablespoons 2" apart on a greased cookie sheet. (I use brown paper instead of greasing the cookie sheet.) Bake 10 minutes at 450 degrees F/ reduce heat to 400 degrees F and bake 15-20 minutes more. Cool the puffs.

Filling:
Take one envelope of whipped topping (I use Dream Whip) and whip it up using 1/2 cup milk, following the packaged directions.

Using two 3&3/4 oz boxes of instant vanilla pudding, make the pudding using 2 cups of milk (half the amount normally used to make the pudding). Fold the whipped topping into the vanilla pudding and refrigerate.

Cut little tops in the puffs and insert filling. Cover with your choice of chocolate. I make a chocolate drizzle using melted semi-sweet chocolate squares and sugar, but other people buy instant chocolate icing and slather it on top of the puff.

These take no time at all to make. Keep them refrigerated until ready to serve. The puffs can be frozen and used when you're ready to add the filling.

Big Day Tomorrow

I imagine most of the nation, excluding the brave souls on the Mall who will be freezing in the cold in Washington, D.C., will be watching the inauguration on television tomorrow. I know I will be. What an exciting moment, the orderly transition of power. At moments like this, I'm profoundly grateful to be an American.

After a week in the Florida sun, long walks on the beach, and making a solid dent in my to-be-read pile, I'm back in the cold and trying to get myself into the groove. It's been hard. Gazing wistfully from my office window, I stare at the bare oaks and forlorn maples, wishing for green and fun in my garden. It'll get here, but not soon enough for me.

Finally read NATURAL BORN CHARMER by Susan Elizabeth Phillips - and laughed out loud. It's actually a pretty sad story about adults who grew up without parents, for reasons the parents could have controlled, but didn't. The parents made choices that essentially left their kids abandoned, and as adults, those kids have the classic 'issues.' Mostly, it's a funny book, but it also says a ton about responsibilities and obligations we owe our kids. The repartee is wonderful.

My cat won't leave my lap. I think he didn't really missed me - he just has cold paws.

New Year, New Ideas

I love the freedom of January 1. As all moms know, September is the real new year, especially the day school starts. But January 1 is my personal day to give myself permission to shake things up. Doing everything the same way at the same time (have you ever driven home on remote control and wondered how you got there as you pulled into the garage?) is a soul-killer. So I'm shaking it up. Joining writing organizations I've admired from afar. Planning on a conference I've never attended in the past. Trying new things. Painting the downstairs hallway Petal Pink. (My poor, patient husband. . .) Putting up new pictures. I'll do my usual desk shovel-out, weed through the books piling up everywhere (sigh), and put away the last of the Christmas candy, but I'm going to live more adventurously this year. Heck, at my age, I'm allowed to get wild and crazy. (Did I mention my poor, patient husband?) If not now, then when? Updates to follow. Right now, I'm thinking of getting together a team for the Baja 500 this year. An FJ Cruiser sounds about right. . .

My NASCAR life is in turmoil, however. Elliott Sadler is, from online reports, out at Gillett Evernham, and Evernham has cleaned out his office. Kasey Kahne so needs Rick Hendrick to tuck him under his wing, now that Ray has shaken the dust of NASCAR off his shoes. The Petty dynasty is no more - allegedly the famed 43 car will go to Gillette for Reed Sorensen to drive (Sheesh. Enuf said), and Kyle will be racing rally cars somewhere else. What in the name of tarnation is going on when the Wood Brothers will get the 21 car on the track for the 1.5 milers ONLY? I despair. I'm even wondering if Daytona will be worth it this year, so you know how seriously worried I am about the state of my favorite sport.

Otherwise, it's onward and upward. Bring it on, is my new mantra. Time to rock and roll.

Still Cookin'

It's a black moment in my kitchen, with cookies and meringues cooling, dicing and slicing, browning and whipping, peaking and poaching going on. I pretend I like to cook and play house elf. Don't get me wrong - I love to eat. And this is the time of year when extravagant goodies are not only allowed, they're encouraged. I guess what I don't like is the expectation that it's a good gig, fun for the kitchen slave, and it's expected. As my grandmother once said: "Four hours to make that pie and it's gone in ten minutes. Not doing that again." If only food lasted, like words on a page. Or something stitched up. Or painted. The ephemeral nature of food is what gets me - I want my art to stick around for more than a meal. I so admire people who can stand in a kitchen for hours and come up with one amazing creation after another, unconcerned that it's about to end up in someone's gullet. Or maybe it's just that I want to be the one with the gullet and not the tired feet, LOL. Yeah, that's it.

The lack of Christmas excitement in the stores in a real downer. Normally, I absorb all the rush and bustle like sunshine. Crowds and lines make me smile. Not this season. Finding a parking space is way too easy, and for the first time I can remember, there're no lines of cars creeping into the mall at a snail's pace. Bummer. Where can I get my holiday jollies? All my gifts are wrapped, mailed, or under the tree, so I don't even have that excuse to enjoy the days before Christmas. Come on people, it's not that bad! Christmas should have a surfeit of happy moods and silly singing aloud in the car as the same carol is repeated for the thousandth time. Let's get with the program! Or I may start cooking again, and believe me, you don't want me to do that.

Women and Food

This is a mini-rant of sorts. Since I'm confused, I'd love to have an answer to my Big Question.

Why do women diet at parties? I mean, the point of a party is good food, good friends, and lots of both. I swear, I see women nibbling on celery sticks, and I want to strangle them. Why go to the party if all that lovely food makes you miserable? The host or hostess goes to a ton of trouble to prepare juicy morsels, and women act as if the tables are laden with poison.

Now men, they eat. No issues with seconds or thirds. I'm with the guys on this one. Diet tomorrow. Eat an apple for lunch. But don't insult the hostess by acting as if her lovely food was designed to kill you. It's all an act, anyway. We know you go home and stuff your face with potato chips because you're so danged hungry.

There, mini-rant complete. Can you tell I'm not happy at all with No Nascar? Hanging in there, barely. . .

A Good Book and Eclairs

I just finished a mystery titled WALK IN HIS MOCCASINS by Craig Johnson, and boy howdy, did I love it. Wish I'd written it.

Many years ago I wrote a manuscript on spec about the Children of Dust, and my then-agent told me it'd never work because it was ancient history and no one cared about Amerasians anymore. Since it had murder, intrigue, and music, I figured there were other selling points, but she didn't see it that way. I may drag that book out of dust bunny hell, if I can find it, and re-read it for the heck of it.

Now, I'm not giving away Johnson's story, but it involves a Child of Dust. Go forth, buy the book, and plan a day or so to enjoy it. Give it to yourself for Christmas.

The Christmas decorations are slowly finding their way around the house and yard, I'm picking up the Frazier fir tomorrow, and if the darned leaves will ever stop falling, it'll start feeling like the holidays around here. If the ancient oaks and maples all over our property weren't so gorgeous the rest of the year, I'd be tempted to commit tree murder and have them removed. I can't remember a fall where the leaves are still coming down in December as they are this month. My love-hate relationship with them is now full-fledged hatred.

My oldest has a birthday tomorrow, making me feel very old and nostalgic. Just today, I was remembering her terrible-two stage when she was hell on wheels. Hmmm, the more things change, the more they stay the same??? The good news is, she's a feisty woman with her own mind, which means we did our job raising the young 'un.

Made eclairs today. It was the only viable alternative to raking and moaning about it. With no January Nascar testing in Daytona allowed this year, I'm complaining to beat the band about that AND the leaves. Guess that means I have to write harder to keep my mind off the no-Nascar horror of these months with no racing.

Or eat eclairs. Hmmm...

Changes

Can't believe it's been ages since I posted. The good news is, I've been writing like a fiend. Still working on stuff that's in the 12th draft mode (I hate this book at this stage), taking breaks now and then to watch the Chase for the Cup on the weekends (the truck racing is by far the best this year), and to rake leaves. Ahhh, yes, the eternal hell called leaf raking. I feel like such an idiot dragging leaves off the lawn and out of the flower beds. They're beautiful, for one thing. Carpets of yellow and orange - quite lovely this year. But since they'll kill my very expensive grass, I keep at 'em. Kinda like picking up after toddlers - a tedious, odious, neverending job, but someone has to do it. I console myself with thinking it's great exercise for those upper arms, LOL. Not sure if it is, but I have to give myself some motivation.

BLOOD CHOCOLATES has me at the keyboard when I give myself a break from revisions. What a lot of fun it is to write. I'm keeping Andrew Gross' TEN WAYS in front of me - 1)Pace 2) Think in scenes 3) Tight first POV (I break this rule regularly, but it's fun in first POV) 4) Riveting opening 5) Make the reader care 6) bad guys you want to hate 7) Four memorable scenes 8) the Big Hinge (book shifts tacks) 9)Widen what's at stake and 10)plot, plot, plot in detail.

The last one is a bone of contention with many of my writer friends. They feel as if the magic disappears if they plot in advance, because they already know the ending and that's no fun. I've learned to let go of the minutiae and focus instead on the theme (always!), the characters' growth, the internal and external conflicts, and the Journey. I know the last chapter before I start, but it's allowed to change if the characters insist upon a different ending. I agree with Gross that you need your four pivotal scenes before you start out, as well. They give you plot points to build towards, and thus, your pacing.

I'm amazed at the new Dean Koontz novel, YOUR HEART BELONGS TO ME. It's so different - in a very good way. A romance in its heart, it's about the corrupting influence of unfathomable wealth. Who knew Dean Koontz understood women as well as dogs?

Almost Halloween

How did October slip away like this? When I went through the candy aisles this past weekend, huge holes greeted me. Yes, I'm late buying the Halloween goodies, and I can't believe it. Half the fun is leftover chocolate and other decadent treats I don't stock in the pantry the rest of the year. Now I have to find my Harry Potter costume so I can greet the children. I love Halloween fun - not as much as my husband, who lives to scare toddlers. Last year, he and his Dementor costume sent a few screaming into their parents' arms. One sick puppy, my beloved.

Martinsville's race two weekends ago was a bust - I was too ill to enjoy it. Being sick in a hotel is just no fun. At least we got to see our daughter at Va Tech and enjoy the lovely mountain scenery. Fall in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains is simply gorgeous.

So - on the writing front: finished the start to a different kind of story for me. It's going to be a Sleeping Beauty thriller, tentatively titled BLOOD CHOCOLATES. That's the plan for the moment. Got the first 30+ pages printed out, now to outline the rest of it. I always need that long warm up to discover the characters and decide if I like them enough to live with them for the next year. Still proofing the Golden Oars and trying to cut some more from its 428 pages. Playing with Saving the Sun God. It's getting there. Need more time. Maybe if I didn't go racin' or put up Halloween decorations, I could squeeze out more hours. Hmmm...don't think that's gonna happen.

Now it's up to the attic to find the costumes. Happy Halloween, everyone.

'Dega and the Importance of Friends

Can't wait for the Talladega race today. Hope it's as exciting as they come and that the best car wins. However, at 'dega, that's not always a given. It's who your friends are that count for more than horsepower at the restrictor plate races. Witness Kurt Busch and his teammate, Ryan Newman last February at Daytona. Busch came through at the right moment, just when Newman needed him the most.

Writing friends are like drafting partners. They tell you, with unvarnished honesty, when your idea for a new book is so far-fetched, you may as well waste your time washing the kitchen floor. They push you to finish the monster that just won't end. They buck you up when the writing is mired in six feet of storm muck, and when your agent doesn't like a single idea you've pitched for the past six months. Best of all, they understand what writers do and the cost it exacts. Sometimes, it's a choice between retreating into the fictional world and the one that exists outside your office door, and they let you know when you're making the wrong one. God bless all writing friends. It's a tough job, and no one has to do it.

Dithering and Driving

I have no idea what's going on. I just can't focus. I'm revamping the plot, the characters, the whole dang shootin' match on a book that I've got to get out, and it's crazy. I think it's because the book is very different for me, and I keep searching for my voice in it. More plot than character-driven, it's hard for me to find writer nirvana when I don't feel as if the characters are as lively as the action part of the story. Action CAN be a character-driven, but mine's more plot-driven. Sigh. When will I learn to stick to what I know I can pull off? I guess it has to do with my boredom level - if I'm not learning as a writer, why bother? Slapping off a book with my same old tricks bores me to tears. Hence, the insecurities. Dithering is a perfectly good word. I hereby claim it as my own.

Martinsville is coming up in a few weeks. Looking forward to the toughest short track on the circuit. Dover last week was a darned good race at the end. We have a fondness for Greg Biffle in our house, mostly because he's been nicknamed "The Biff," and our feline child is also a Biff. The real mystery is how Kyle Busch's karma did a one-eighty, and he's now 12th in the Chase. Hmmm. Maybe it's all those negative vibes aimed his way by the #88 fans.

Richmond, ESPN, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

September really truly is the New Year. It's as if the instant the humidity lessens just a hair, Southerners gear up for the serious work. I'm still enjoying the heat, but now and then, a cool breeze gives the oaks a run for their money, and I stand there, thinking "fall really is coming. Time to get the bulbs in for next spring."

The Richmond race was a doozy. First, the track moved everything to Sunday, and while their website and phone info line promised updates by six p.m. on Friday, they didn't do so until after 7. So of course, my hubby and I were in line for a parking lot on Friday, when a policewoman told us the race had been cancelled. Wasted a ton of time, which is not amusing at all. When we made it back to the track on Sunday, we had no idea driver intros were at 12:30. All we knew was, track time was 1 p.m. Poor communication from the track, but the good news is, the race was wonderful, even without the lights. We couldn't stay for the whole thing, however. Many people in our section had to depart early as well - planes were leaving, kids had to be back in school Monday, etc. And we totally missed the Nationwide race at 7 p.m. We too had to hit the road, so we didn't get to see the Tony Stewart/Jimmie Johnson showdown. Bummer.

Later, I saw the clip on ESPN of Tony tossing his steering wheel and harping at Zippy when the race was finished. ESPN didn't broadcast Tony's immediate apology. Why? They want controversy. Stirring the pot ups ratings, is the only explanation I can find. All that fuss over Hornaday's steroid use for his Grave's Disease symptoms makes it sound as if Hornaday is a cheater along the lines of baseball players who bulk up to hit home runs. Wrong. As Hornaday's team owner, Kevin Harvick said, if Hornaday doesn't take the synthetic steroids, the man is dead. But no, ESPN doesn't hype Harvick's soundbite. Now ESPN is after Junior. Interesting that Tony and Junior have taken ESPN to task for editing soundbites to make people look bad. I wonder why there has to be an adversarial relationship between the company that broadcasts sports and those who are the stars. Is it a given in our society that we have to hear the down-and-dirty about those who seem to have it all? If there is no muck, well, ESPN will manipulate it so there's some to spread around. Bad move. Very very bad move.

On an uplifting note, I'm reading all of Dr. Martin Luther King's speeches I can find online. What an amazing man. His eloquence, his erudition, his love for all mankind, show forth with every word. A writer can learn a lot from his prose as well as his activism.

Back to Work

Took some time off to haul the youngest and all her stuff to college last week, then decided on a lovely drive up to Chicago. Had some fun, enjoyed new scenery, met old friends. Came home feeling like tackling the rewrites again, only this time, I realized I needed a major plot shift. Upping the ante will require research. If the government is tracking my computer, they're probably getting the handcuffs ready. I hereby declare my family doesn't know anything about this book but the title, LOL.

My husband is the one who mentioned government snooping into computers used by civilians. While I'm not normally paranoid, he probably has a point. I wonder how many writers delve into Internet realms the government doesn't want us to see, much less understand? We have vivid imaginations, but reality helps tone us down unless we're into science fiction or fantasy. Of course SF and fantasy could easily dive into a reality we don't know about right now, but it's in the sphere of possibility.

How afraid do we have to be of where we find our research? Interesting to even think of it as an issue.

Time and all those Cliches

Can you believe summer is almost over? My youngest heads back for the dorm this week, and we're going to be sorry to wave goodbye. Next summer, she has plans to study Mayan architecture in Mexico and Guatemala for three months, so we won't be seeing much of her. Sigh. I guess that's what happens when they grow up, they don't come home much. Does that sound like a cliche? Guess so, but there's a truth in the core of every cliche.

Speaking of cliches, I've come to admire them. Yes, I know they're considered anathema in the writing community, but I like the way they're a universal shorthand. Everyone knows what a cliche means. (And I do know there's an accent at the end of cliche, but this program won't add it automatically, and if I do, it looks weird.) Take a Cinderella story, for example. No matter how complex I write it, or the twists I add, or if I make the hero a Cinderfella instead of an Ella, everyone knows what to expect from the core of the story. True love triumphs over trickery no matter what. I like being able to label my stories with myths, to cull themes from the classics (and I'm including the Bible here). That way, I know the heart of the story won't stray.

Straying far from home, we're headed for Chicago this weekend, so no Bristol race for me. Darn. Love Bristol. Will get it on Tivo and enjoy it when I get home. Hope A.J. and David Ragan have a good run. Still rootin' for the kids!

Hot, Hot, Hot

David Ragan, A.J. Allemendinger - go for it, guys! They're both young men on a mission, and driving the wheels off their cars is working well these days. It'd be fun to see some new faces in the Chase, and although A.J. isn't even in the top 35 yet, Ragan has a real shot at the top 12. It's fun to see the Old Guard getting nipped on its heels by the whippersnappers.

It seems that everything around my house takes longer and longer in this awful heat. We should make it a law that during August everyone must kick back on the porch swing, fill up the lemonade pitcher, and pile the good books on the table to share with anyone who drops by for a fresh icy glass and a chat. I've been reading the huge stack I stockpiled after Thrillerwriters in July in NYC. They're fun reads, and I'm stunned at the depth of talent out there that I never knew existed. Been working on my own stuff but it's slow going. I'm not terribly motivated when I'm sticky and the air conditioner hasn't shut off in two weeks straight.

Interesting problem: I'm converting a manuscript from first person, present tense, to third person, past tense. The first person POV gave me a very deep character, something I like. But it slows the action in the story. So far, I've compressed thirty pages into eleven. Hope I'm not cutting the soul out of the story, but I don't think so.

So much for work. Who's up for lemonade and sugar cookies?

Six Mistakes

I could start with the Brickyard race yesterday and do a Tony Stewart impression about the tire debacle, but everyone else is doing it. It's so not cool to be one of the pack, so I'll let it go. Wish A.J. Allmendinger had won - the lad raced in the top 10 all day, and at one point was second. That would have been quite a story. The best thing we can do is pretend the race never happened and look forward to Pocono. All I can say is, I'm so grateful we didn't drive to Indy for the race this year.

Actually, I'd like to review Joseph Finder's "Six Mistakes" talk at ITW. He made great points about how a book can go wrong. Mind, these notes are what I got out of what he said, so nothing is verbatim and may, in fact, be way off base. But this is what struck me as worth writing down:

First, ask yourself if you have a passive hero. A hero has to advance the story and change things. Well, Duh! But you'd be amazed at how often I see this mistake in beginners.

Second, don't write a long setup. We writers like to introduce everyone with infinite care, but Finder' s point is that we can get to know the characters through action.

Third: Don't start the story too early. (A personal note: I have to do this, because I need about forty page to feel comfortable. But I cut those forty pages in the first rewrite. I know it's a waste of time, but that's how my process works.)

Fourth: Avoid the weak second act. Things must escalate. The hero has to fail then recommit to the struggle. Introduce subplots in Act II.

Five: Predictability. Don't underestimate your readers. Don't let them figure it all out. One of my observations: a very well known suspense writer makes this mistake. I can tell you before I turn the page what the next scene will hold and what's going to happen. Can't finish any of the books because they're so predictable.

Six: Lousy endings kill a book. Make it have symmetry. Don't make it too short. Add a good twist if you can, one that arises from the seeds planted before in the story. Then don't linger too long at the party.

Seven: (a bonus) Don't show off and lay out all your research just because it's cool and you went to all that work. Use just enough to show that this is the real world.

And general observations from Mr. Finder: don't make the mistake of having all plot and no people. No one cares about abstract threats. Back story dumps are anathema - add the back story in tiny slivers, giving the reader a reason to care for the characters. Avoid boring action scene. Make them exciting or leave them out.

Very good talk. You can buy CDs of this one, as well as the others, from ITW.

The Sword's Reach

James Rollins threw out a quote I've never heard before - A war is only as far as your sword can reach. What a good concept for writers. Start small and keep it intimate as you ratchet up the tension. His example was perfect. A surprise is when the characters are chatting and eating at a restaurant, then suddenly, their table explodes. Suspense happens when they're chatting, etc., and the omniscient eye shows a ticking bomb under the table. His take is that the core of action is not physical, it's emotional in its context. Is the protagonist a coward, and it's hard for him to wade into battle? Or does he have a moral objection to battle, like the Gary Cooper character in one of my favorite movies, Friendly Persuasion. Or John Wayne in The Quiet Man - a boxer who killed his opponent in the ring doesn't want to fight, not ever again, but ultimately has to. Again with Gary Cooper in High Noon - he will lose his Quaker bride if he stays to fight the bad guys, but if he doesn't, they'll come after him until he's dead.

Gonna work on this one.