New Beginnings

Without the huge old dogwood, nestled under the bracketing oaks, my front yard looks like a new place. The dogwood finally reached its end last fall, and we decided against replacing it immediately. I'm glad we waited. With new azaleas, hostas, and tulips planted where the dogwood once stood, that area catches my eye as it hasn't done it in years. We'd become comfortable with its prior arrangement, and the invisibility factor had set in. It was what it was. Not now. I'm constantly looking out the window to check out the new yard design and getting a kick out of it.

Starting a new story has the same effect upon me. I love the thrill of something fresh and different. I can't wait to see how it grows and what its final look will be.

Motivations

How important is it to a story for a character's motives to be spelled out completely, along with supporting scenes? Or are we willing to accept that people do things for no reason other than it seems like a good idea at the time? In real life, I think I accept that explanation. In a book, not so much.

What motivates people to do something extraordinary (think of the person who rushes into an inferno to save a stranger's life, with no thought of personal danger), as opposed to those who act in the smallest of ways with serious weighing of consequences before the first step? Confused? Yeah, me too. The worriers sometimes forget their fear and rush in where angels have to think twice. And sometimes, those we expect to be the most heroic, aren't. Degrees of heroism fascinate me. The little boy who shares his lunch with the outsider who can't make friends in the second grade is as big a hero in my book as the winner of the Medal of Honor. Well, maybe almost as much. I'm working on redefining my literary definition of hero these days.

April showers are upon us, along with a cool day that isn't feeling too spring-like to me. I'm ready for the sun and warm breezes! Mexico seems like ages ago (it was only a month!) but I'm ready to go back, LOL>

Amendments

I woke up this morning feeling guilty about a mild trashing I'd given a book in my previous post. I'd been led to believe the novel was better than it was, and to say I was disappointed is mild, especially since I paid for a hardback edition. However, I realized I'm not comfortable slamming, even mildly, anyone else's work. A book is your child, and when your child is criticized, it's awful. Hence, I removed the paragraph. The previous entry probably makes little sense because of that missing piece, but now you know why. So much for my life as a reviewer, LOL.

I'd much rather praise books. I have shelves of books I read over and over. WINTER RUN from Algonquin Press is one of those small gems. MONTANA 1948, another. FALLING WOMAN by Pat Murphy (yes, it's sci-fi, but so cool and perfectly paced) is in tatters on my keeper shelf. Anything by Mary Balogh, who knows how to write true emotion. Dick Francis for his perfectly imperfect heroes who are honorable above all else. I'll make a list one of these days and post it here.

A week without Cup racing. At least there's the Nationwide series this Saturday. After the UNC blowout last night, I'm ready for some baseball, LOL.

Tweaking Books and Race Cars

I didn't think the Texas race this past weekend was as bad as it looked on TV. With the cameras following the leaders, the viewer doesn't get the big picture. I have a feeling a ton of teams in mid-pack and back were working like demons in the pits to make their cars better. Would have loved to hear an interview with a crew chief like Bootie Barker. Plus, where's the Scott Speed interview? Wonder if he's ready to admit this Nascar deal is harder than he thought it would be?

Is Joey Lagano going to get bumped down to the Nationwide series? I doubt it. Gibbs likes the boy, and he has talent. Remember, Jeff Gordon smashed a ton of cars his rookie year. This year may be rough on driver and team, but Zippy will pull both together sooner rather than later. And how about Tony Stewart? You go, boy!


Which leads to another point about writing. When do you take critical advice, and when do you dump it? It takes guts to tell a seasoned editor/fellow writer to back off and leave your book alone. I'm a firm believer that "clear" eyes can read a rough draft and give you feedback about the next draft, but there comes a time when you have to take control of the book and be responsible for it as its author. I once had an editor who rewrote just about every sentence in a book. At first, I, being very green, thought "Okay, she knows what she's doing," until I realized, she was trying to rewrite my book in her style. At that point, I dug in my heels. Now, when I re-read that book (what a painful experience) I can tell where my paragraphs survived, and where she ruined it.

Tweaking. It can ruin a good race car and destroy a book that has the bones to be good.

Believing

I was listening to an interview with the author of a new book about how successful sports figures pull out of a slump, and he made the most interesting (and true, I thought) point. He said they all believed in their abilities and committed to success, even if it wasn't looking good for either. When they didn't have that confidence level, they lied to themselves. Yep, despite their failures, they told themselves they could do it and they focused, sustaining their commitment with whatever it took. I like that idea.

Writers can generally find an excuse, any excuse, to escape writing. It's not good enough, I can't get it right, the characters are flat, the plot stupid, the market won't be ready for it. . . I can probably come up with a list of a hundred off the top of my head, but that'll just delay getting today's writing done, and heaven knows, I can invent easier ways to do that, LOL. The point is, a writer has to believe, and believe strongly, in the book and in her ability to get it done. Rewrites are the ultimate horror for me - I find I lose the vision of the book too easily when I become ensnared by the minutiae of phrasing, verbs, cutting adverbs, etc. During that process, especially, I need to keep my belief in the book bolstered. (And my alliteration to a minimum!)
Being committed to making a book the best it can be involves the boring and painful parts as well as the fun of its creation.

And as Winston Churchill said, never, never, never, never give up. Never.

Bristol!

March 22, 2009

This was taken during the pre-race activities. Kyle Busch won. Darn it. But the day was beautiful, the crowd pleasant (and not as copious as it looks - there was plenty of room for everyone and quite a few empty seats), and we had a great time. We still think Richmond and Martinsville have better racing. Turn on your sound for the video below taken during the race.

Back to Rain, Drizzle, and Yuck

After a fabulous week in the sun, it's back to the Real World. While pining for sunny Mexico won't get the laundry done, at least I'm back in my own bed. I love my bed. It's the one thing I crave while I'm away.

Got to hear the Atlanta race on the radio - it's so cool. The announcers are wonderful, and I now understand why families clustered around the radio in the old days to listen to Fibber McGee, the Lux Theater, etc. Without the distraction of pictures, you can "see" anything you want. Maybe that's why I love books so much - my imagination can add whatever it wants to the story. Have you ever read a book with a cover of the hero or heroine on it, and after you finished, wondered what the hey the artist was thinking? Because, clearly, the characters in the book didn't look like that.

Looking forward to the Bristol race. Hope the weather improves. So far, Virginia isn't my favorite place to be this spring, which is unusual.

Aftermath, Anniversaries, and Away

The snow is finally melting. My daffodils, the ones not frozen to death, are giving it another try. It's hard to believe that a week ago, we had more snow than we've had in years and years. Being a Southern city, my hometown stopped dead in its tracks. Yep, no school, no video store runs, no nuttin', all because of a measly ten inches, LOL.

I'm off for warmer climes. A week in the sun, stacks of my to-be-read pile beside my deck chair, yummy meals cooked by someone else - yes, I'm feeling good just thinking about it. My beloved and I are celebrating our anniversary, our kids are tagging along to make sure we behave (as if they could make us!), and the garden will have to sort itself out while I'm gone. Vacation reading? Susan Elizabeth Phillips, for sure. A biography of John Adams. Elaine Pagel's The Gnostic Gospels. A Lee Child for my husband, as well as Craig Johnson's latest mystery. I may take some rough draft papers from the paranormal with me and read them away from the office. I'm never objective when the project is this close, but I'll try.

Did I mention how much I hate Daylight Savings Time? I'll never understand the idiotic thinking behind shifting the clock around. What a bother, as Winne the Pooh would say.

Birds

Geese have been flying overhead, honking like there's no tomorrow. Starlings swarm lawns, looking for brand new grass seed. Sorry guys, it's still winter here. Maybe it's warmer elsewhere, but I swear, winter here is clinging like a leech. My poor little daffodils are hanging their heads, just trying to survive on whatever the sun gives them. During my daily walk, I make it a habit to check out my favorite trees, looking for any sign that they're getting ready to bud. The other day, a plaintive screech was coming from one of the big oaks on the grounds of the Baptist church. Checking it out, I found a lone blackbird hanging onto the top branch, twisting one way then the other, crying loudly. They're usually in murders (are blackbirds a murder, just like crows?), so I figured this little guy became separated from his buddies. With dusk falling, he must have been desperate to find them. Searching the skies, I couldn't find any signs his gang was doubling back for him. Waiting a bit, I finally gave up and walked on.

His situation brought my thoughts to loners. Lee Child writes the ultimate loner in his Jack Reacher character. Think Paladin, (the Western variety), or many of Susan Elizabeth Phillips' heroines (and heroes, for that matter). They believe they're alone because of circumstances or their own sins, (Sugar Beth in AIN'T SHE SWEET), that they're the only ones who handle their problems, but eventually, they find they can rely on someone else (and must do so) to evolve and find happiness, no matter how much they don't think they deserve it. I guess that's why Reacher doesn't appeal to me book after book - I want him to learn he can and should share the burden. Even Bill Gates found his Melinda.

Besides, a static character arc grows old for the readers. Nothing more boring than a character who doesn't grow emotionally. Hmm, same with people, n'est-ce pas?

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.