Why do we write? One answer

I've been mulling over thought on why authors write. For money? (Hah, lots of luck with that!) For prestige? (about as much luck with that.) For self satisfaction? To entertain others? Because we have stories to tell? Because we can't not write? How much ego is involved?
Well, today I had a partial answer. Two lovely ladies I'd never met before drove from Sulphur Springs and Dallas to have lunch with me because they like my books. They'd recently discovered them, through word of mouth (the best kind of publicity)--a friend of a friend told one of them. They thought it would be interesting to talk to me. I asked them what else brought them to Fort Worth, and they said nothing--I was the purpose of the visit.
Before we met, they had driven around "Kelly's neighborhood,"--Fairmount--and they were familiar with the architecture, etc., from pictures on my web page. Finding Old Home Supply was a special treat for them. We lunched at Lili's Bistro on Magnolia, in the heart of Fairmount.
 I answered questions about my books, tried to explain some things about writing and Fairmount and Edom (the real version of fictional Wheeler in the Blue Plate Mystery Series) that I thought might interest them. Conversation never lagged over a nice, lazy lunch. Afterward, they followed me in their car to see the house that inspired Skeleton in a Dead Space and I told them the story of how I'd been stopped at a stop sign, looked at the house, and suddenly thought "There's a skeleton in a dead space in that house." That was how the book began to take shape. They seemed to really enjoy that.
So what did I learn? I learned that I do entertain readers, that they liked my books and look forward to the next ones, which means I am, as I've always said, a storyteller. I also admit that there's a bit of ego involved--it's an amazing feeling to have people come all that way to talk to you. I hope they went away enriched, satisfied, and eager for my future books--and some backlist. I know I went away feeling good about my writing, and on down days, I'll remember them and the visit.
Thank you, Sarah of Sulphur Springs and Suzanne of Dallas. You gave me a boost--and a bit of insight into why I write.

Did I throw the baby out with the bath water?

My thoughts are on Kelly O'Connell Mysteries tonight, so here's a picture of another Craftsman house  from Kelly's Fairmount neighborhood. This one may figure in the fourth book in the series.

I've been struggling for some time to start the fourth Kelly O'Connell Mystery. I had ideas floating around in my head, finally wrote a synopsis on the basis of which Turquoise Morning Press issued a contract, and in the last couple of weeks got serious about writing. But I discarded start after start. Nothing seemed to work. I don't outline, but the general idea I had didn't seem to be going any place. And I thought the writing was wooden.
This morning, as I was doing my yoga, a great thought came to me: there was no mystery in what I was writing. A funny story, perhaps, maybe a short story or a subplot. But there was as far as I could tell no real threat to Kelly or her family, not much to call the police about. I suddenly decided I would have to shelve the whole thing--at one point, during all my revising and cutting and pasting, I had it slightly over 5,000 words. I think this morning, the main part was down to about 2,500 but all those other bits and pieces were saved in various files. What I needed was an entirely new plot.
So while I was bending and stretching and breathing deeply, I thought about possibilities--and I thought about current social issues. I came up with some ideas, so later in the morning I wrote the managing editor with an explanation of where I was, and she answered that they would not want me to keep at something that was not working but since they had contracted on the basis of one synopsis, I needed to come up with a new one. She urged me to take my time, which I fully intended to do.
But after lunch with a friend, I came back and batted out almost 600 words of a new synopsis.The words came quickly and easily, which encourages me to hope the story will too. I can see or hear the opening scene in my mind.
I'm too tired to work competently on the rest of the synopsis--or edit what I have--so that's tomorrow's chore after the grocery. Feeling really good about this too.
I did change the name of the file, Kelly #4, to Ghost in a Four-Square (the title I'd intended for the baby I threw out) and created a new Kelly #4 file, untitled as yet. Nothing is lost or irretrievable, but I feel I'm headed in the right direction.
Then tonight, after a nice dinner out with a friend, I had to answer a long bunch of questions from the reprint publisher about the two western historical romances (I use the latter word reluctantly) that are posted on the web. This writing life is exhausting. I'm going to read now.

Today I'm grateful for ...

I may get repetitious in this daily gratitude thing, but today, once again, I am grateful for friends, old and new. Today my "new" friends (we've been friends at least ten years) Jean and Jeannie came for lunch with my "old" friend, Barbara, and the new friend she so nicely brought to me, Pam. I made a pot of pulled pork chili--watch for the recipe on Potluck with Judy soon because it was really good and also easy. We had a good time visiting--they found lots to talk about, lots in common.
After dishes were done--not hard at all--I took Barbara and Pam on a short tour of my corner of Fort Worth. Barbara had wanted to see Fairmount because it's the setting of Skeleton in a Dead Space, She asked why I chose Fairmount and I tried to explain it's the interesting nature of the neighborhood--all those imaginatively redone old houses with fewer and fewer falling down ones, but still some--and the history. So pleasant and comfortable in its day, Fairmount began a slide into rental and neglected property in the last half of the twentieth century but then was reborn as a fashionable neighborhood because of its proximity to downtown and the hospital district. For a while there, newcomers moving into the neighborhood called themselves urban pioneers. We drove by Lili's, which is mentoned in the second book, and Nonna Tata, mentioned often in the first book. Of course, we'd eaten at the Old Neighborhood Grill last night, which is the most frequently mentioned restaurant in the book.
Tonight we went from folksy neighborhood grill to upscale Patrizio's. Barbara treated us to dinner, and I suggested Italian. She and I had cheese-filled ravioli with artichokes and tomatoes in a lemon/butter sauce--delicious. Pam had penne caprese--a similar sauce on penne. We came home with doggy bags and sat in the living room exchanging stories about our lives and laughing a lot. I can't believe two naive young girls from Chicago have had the adventures and complications--mostly with relatives--that we have had. What's nice is that we're upbeat about it, optimistic about the future, and so lucky to be surrounded by children.
Barbara's visit, made possible by Pam, has been a real blessing for me, and I am so grateful to both of them. It's wonderful to talk with someone about a life now long gone and to remember its joys and even its funny, embarrassing moments. And this is repetitious too, but I feel so thankful that we're so "in sync" probably almost sixty years after we first became friends. Doesn't happen often!
I will see "the girls" (Jordan's term for them) off with a bit of sadness tomorrow but the hope they'll be back soon.
And then I'll get back to work! I've had fun but I have a full week ahead of me.

Researching Fairmount

My Kelly O'Connell mysteries are set in Fairmount, a national historic district just blocks from my house. The photos above shows a typical row of houses and a restaurant on Magnolia Avenue (photos by Polly Hooper). Because I cut through the back streets all the time and eat in the neighborhood's restaurants, I'd tell you I know it well. But this morning I had a few questions in my mind, so I drove through Fairmount, paying particular attentiont to small businesses that line Magnolia Avenue, the major street that marks the neighborhood's northern boundary. And yes, I noticed new things, had new ideas. Then I came home and did some online research on Fairmount, national historic districts in general, and the League of Neighborhood Associations in Fort Worth. Learned some interesting things: at one square mile, Fairmount is the largest national historic district in the Southwest; listing on the National Registry of Historic Districts does not empower that registry to enforce restrictiosn, nor does listing on the state registry. Such power is handled locally. The Fairmount Neighborhood Association has guidelines but no rules; it encourages retaining original wooden windows and doors, columns and chimneys, for instance, and discourages painting brick not previously painted, use of metal or vinyl siding, and enclosing porches. Of course you can find some of those things done throughout the neighborhood, but in general folks abide by the guidelines. They're proud of their neighborhood.
All this works well for my plot in the current work-in-progress where a developer wants to put a big-box shopping center on Magnolia Avenue--you can imagine Kelly's reaction to that!
I'm 23,000 words into the first draft, have to turn in the completed final draft, at about 70,000 words, by March 15. That will be here sooner than I know.
Highlight of my day: giving the puppy a bath with Jacob's help. We both ended up giggling and sopping wet, while the poor puppy kept trying to climb out of the tub. She had gotten muddy this morning because the sprinkler system had been on earlier and left the ground wet. We toweled her off and tried to brush her, but as Jacob said, "This isn't working." Then he took her outside to play, emptied the outside water dish, and made more mud for her to roll in. Swell.
An evening of writing lies ahead: I'm looking forward to it.

Welcome to Kelly's neighborhood

All picture courtesy Polly Hooper.



The protagonist of my forthcoming mystery--you know, Skeleton in a Dead Space, that book I've talked incessantly about--is Kelly O'Connell, a realtor and single mother in the Fairmount neighborhood of Fort Worth. So one I thing I figure is that potential (possible?) readers should be familiar with Kelly's neighborhood, because it becomes almost another character in the book. I talked about it in my last post and about my picture-taking excursion with Polly Hooper. Actually, that's a misnomer--Polly took pictures; I sat in the car and watched. But here's Kelly's neighborhood--and what I think are some terrific pictures!
Wouldn't you want to live in that neighborhood? And solve any murders that intruded on the peacefulness of it?
These pictures will be on that new website, if I ever get the @#$%&* thing up and running.

Fun on a Saturday

Have I mentioned that my mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, will be published in late August? Actually, I think I've mentioned it twenty-eleven times because I'm excited about it. But one marketing project I'm undertaking in preparation is building a new web page, featuring the book. Confession: I submitted my current web page for appraisal (a site called 1st Turning Point evaluates websites). Mine did not fare well--it is hopelessly inadequate and outdated. The picture of me was taken when my kids were in college and since they are now in their forties or rapidly approaching them, that makes it pretty outdated. Another criticism was the lack of links to buy my books--but most of them are now out of print. Dated again!
So I'm building a new page, and the home page will feature the neighborhood in which the mystery is set. Kelly, the protagonist, lives in Fairmount--a historic neighborhood just blocks from me. As a matter of fact, Kelly and I frequent several of the same restaurants, her children attend the school across the street from me--yeah, I really did what they mean when they say write about what you know.
But Fairmount, for those of you not from Fort Worth, is a fascinating inner city neighbhorhood that in the last twenty years or so has undergone great revitalization. It's charming houses have been bought by young people who've updated them while preserving the early 1920s style, and the neighborhood is valued for its location close to downtown. More and more restaurants have flourished, bringing activity to the area. You still occasionally see a rundown house with broken sidewalk and discarded dishwasher on the front porch next to a nicely redone house with a lovely, well cared for garden. But it's getting more rare. Fairmount recently placed first in the Social Revitalization/Neighborliness category of the National 2011 Neighborhood of the Year Awards, for its community garden.
This morning Polly, one of my memoir writers and a talented photographer (responsible for my photo on this blog), and I went about the neighborhood in my VW convertible. We started with the top down, but I soon decided we were getting to sunburned. She photographed the steps of Lily B. Clayton, the school; the Old Neighborhood Grill; Chadra (a restaurant), Nonna Tata (another restaurant), a small office building on Magnolia that looks to me like where Kelly would have her office, and several rows of houses, an individual Craftsman house, and a garden that caught my eye because of the profuse Rose of Sharon. And, finally, a street sign with the Fairmount Neighborhood designation above it. I told Polly if anyone came out and demanded to know why she was taking a picture of their house, I'd just drive away and leave her. But we had fun and a good visit, and she says she got some good shots.
Afterwards we came back to my house, where Polly's husband Mike met us, and we had an early brunch of smoked salmon and cream cheese, and a curried egg anchovy spread I'd made--with, of course, a little white wine to wash it down. And with a lot of good conversation.
This evening Jacob is here. Jay and Susan came for a drink, and I re-served the lunch food, plus we had a spinach/feta dip they'd bought and I decined some wasabi peas--not like me, because I really like wasabi. Poor Jacob really wanted attention, and all he was told was, "I'm relaxing" or "I'm visiting with adults." For supper, I'd bought a rotisseried chicken at the market, but Jacob refused it--I think it was all those green herbs on the skin. He ate broccoli and fruit, lots of fruit. Tonight he told me, in almost simultaneous breaths, that I was the best Juju ever and I was the meanest grandmother ever.
A satisfying Saturday.