Writing: and the angst goes on

I am 30,000 words into my work-in-progress, but the remaining 40,000 loom before me like a great chasm. I'm not sure who's behind all the bad stuff that's going on in the novel, and I've got one character who is so enigmatic I don't know if she's one of the good guys or bad, a victim, a martyr, or--maybe--a heroine. Hey, I like that idea. Kelly seems to be waiting for things to happen, but she has to be pro-active if she's to be the protagonist. I have scads of notes, but no outline--that's not my style. My mentor/beta reader/good friend/whatever-he-is has read the first 10,000 words--I gave them to him when I was desperate, but now I've moved on beyond that, changed a major plot element, and made lots of other changes. We're to have lunch next week, and he'll give me his comments--always sharp and incisive, written out so that I can study them. But it's changed so much I now think I was hasty--or panicked--in giving the first bit to him. I keep remembering the words of a fellow mystery writer that the point of a first draft is simply to get to the end.
Last night I read sixty fives pages of Polly Iyer's Murder Deja Vu. (A note of explanation: Polly is a friend; I've never met her, but she's a fellow member of Sisters in Crime and fairly active on the Guppies sub-list; we've exchanged Facebook comments, and I definitely feel she's a friend.) The tension in the opening pages of this novel was terrific, and I was mesmerized, only put it down because I knew I had to be up early. The story has a much harder edge than what I write, and for a few minutes I beat myself up because I don't write like that. But then I explained to myself, with fair success, that each of us write what we write, the way we do it. I suspect it has something to do with the way we see the world. That may make me a Pollyanna type, but so be it. I started out as a  young-adult author way back when and later so tired of agents reading adult manuscripts and telling me they thought they were for the y/a audience. But another friend, commenting on a post on "Judy's Stew" wrote "You made me care about your characters, so you are doing something right. Buck up!" So I will.
But not tonight and not this weekend. I'm taking a brief holiday. Sunday is my birthday, and I'll spend the weeked surrounded by family and friends. I'll read a lot, while grandchildren swim, and put all thoughts of Kelly O'Connell and her unsolved mystery out of my mind. Monday, when I get back to work, I will check the first round of edits on another author's manuscript that I'm editing. So maybe after a break, I'll go back with renewed enthusiasm.
The motto for all writers is, I suspect, "Persevere." There's a lot of advice out there, but that one word seems to sum it up.
Happy weekend everyone.

The Magic of a Mentor

The Sisters in Crime listserv has a program called Mentor Monday. Once a month an expert in a related field takes questions about their area of expertise. This Monday it was Kris Neri, author and owner of an independent bookstore. She answered questions about owning and operating an indie bookseller in these turbulent book times. It was interesting and informative, but it's a one-day thing and none of us develop a relationship with the mentor.
On the other hand, there are mentors who enter our life for varying periods of time. I am lucky enough to have had a mentor all my professional life. I met Fred when I was in graduate school, forty years ago. He was a young faculty member, and I was his first doctoral candidate. We've kept up the teacher/student relationship, though Fred would tell you today that it's more a friendship of colleagues. Over the years I've called him with innumerable questions, especially when I was writing historical fiction: "If you were going to pay a sympathy call in 1904 in East Texas, what would you take?" The answer was dried fruit pies. "If you were a bored kid in East Texas, what would you do? Chunk rocks in the stock tank. His knowledge of the trivia of the nineteenth century astounds me--and what he doesn't know, he researches. Once he gave me a thorough lesson in the workings of a derringer for a story I'd been assigned to write. For years he was a valued member of the TCU Press editorial board, and I relied on him to be first reader of all young-adult novels submitted to us.
The relationship did sort of a flip a few years ago when he wrote a book called  Boys Books, Boys Dreams, and the Mystique of Flight, about boys aviation books of the early twentieth century. He submitted it to other presses, and I finally asked why he didn't bring it to TCU. He said he didn't think we'd consider it. Long story short, we published it and the next book , From Bird Women to Skygirls. I became his publisher.
But as I started to write mysteries, he took up the mentoring role. At TCU he taught the genre fiction classes, including mystery, and he's widely read in the field. He reads my manuscripts at various stages and discusses plot strategies with me. He is generous with his praise but never hesitant to suggest other developments, other ways to do things, parts that don't work, and problems he finds.  Today I particularly wanted to pick his brain about the plot of the third mystery I'm planning--I know what's going to happen but I was stumped on motivation. He made excellent suggestions at lunch, then emailed me later with yet another one that is spot on. So now, if I find time between animals, grandson, and other things, I can write that first paragraph. Nowadays, we each make suggestions to the other.
Fred and his wife have been to my house on a few occasions, and I've had dinner at theirs, but ours is not really a social relationship. It's collegial--and I'm grateful for that. Every writer should be so lucky.

Daily Cheap Reads

If you own an e-reader and haven't checked out Daily Cheap Reads (http://www.dailycheapreads.com/) you really should look into it. Lots of books priced at ninety-nine cents and a little higher. Tonight, my novel based on the life of a pioneer woman physician in Nebraska is the featured read (with appropriately a link where you can buy it). Mattie won a Spur Award from Western Writers of America the year it was published, and I'm still pleased with it. A neighbor told me the other day that while her husband was in the hospital she sat up untilol 4:00 a.m. reading it. No higher praise. I have two other pieces of my western writing on Smashwords and Kindle--Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories, my collection of short stories, and "The Art of Dipping Candles," which is free on Smashwords. My brilliant (?) marketing strategy there was to get people to read a free short story and entice them to buy the collection. I'm not like a lot of writers who I know check their sales figures three times a day. I remember to check every week or so, but I don't think my strategy is working.
Having posted these three pieces of my backlist, or what I have come to think of as "my older works," illustrates a dilemma I face as I plan to market my forthcoming mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space. For my whole writing life, I've been too much of a generalist--if I had any specialty I'd say it was fiction, both adult and young adult, about women in the American West, but I've written literary criticism, done food cooking, written on assignment for school children about everything from ships and surgery to the continents of the world. So now I want to present myself to the reading public as a mystery writer.
The world of mysteries, I've discovered, is a place unto itself. Mystery writers are, for the most part, a close-knit, supportive group, very knowledgeable and very ready to help each other and offer cheers when appropriate, condolences when needed. The best thing I ever did was join Sisters in Crime and the Guppies (Going to Be Published) subgroup. Lots of people stay in Guppies after they're published, so I fit well. I feel like I'm published--but in mystery terms, I'm unpublished.
Mystery readers are real groupies too. I'm not sure but I suspect it's hard to get them to move away from their favorites, although some devour so many books a week they have to branch out. I would read that voraciously if I had the time.Mostly in Sisters-in-Crime and on Twitter it seems to me we're preaching to the choir. So I'm looking for new, subtle ways to market my new book and get away from that pigeon-hole of a young-adult western writer. Then again, I must be grateful--that pigeon-hole has brought me a lot of rewards, just not fame or fortune.
Anyway, the point of all this was check out http://www.dailycheapreads.com/.

My big news

Today I signed a contract with Turquoise Morning Press. They will publish my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, though I have no pub date yet. Hoping for 2012. Turquoise Morning is a young press, founded by two women who write romances. The list at first was all romance, but they are branching out into mystery, I gather particularly cozy mystery. I think they will publish in trade paperback and e-book formats, and I'm happy with both. In correspondence, the staff has been responsive, friendly, and enthusiastic. I am truly looking forward to the experience of working with them. And of seeing my first mystery in print, although it is far from my first book. I've always been an avid reader of cozy mysteries, and for the last few years I've told myself if others could do it, so could I. But it's been a long and difficult road, with many disappointments along the way. The world of publishing is changing so fast,(especially the focus on the New York "big" pubishers) and though mystery writers aren't quite competetive with each other (we call ourselves sisters, after all), there are a lot of us. It's easy to get lost in the crowd.
Most publishers want a series, usually at least three books, and the second in my series, tentatively titled No Neighborhood for Old Women (with apologies to Cormac McCarthy) is in its second draft, and I have ideas for the third book rattling around in my head.
I'm not sure this feels real yet. You'd have thought this was another snow day--actually it was a beautiful day in the seventies--but I never did venture beyond the house and back yard. I had plenty to do--haven't yet done all of it--and I was content to stay home. Tomorrow I'll get out. But I have serious work to do--the chili book, a review book, and then back to fiction. But my point is I didn't celebrate. I did announce the contract on the listserv of Guppies, a sub-group of Sisters in Crime. After all, I found Turquoise Morning because of an in-depth interview on the listserv of the Guppies sub-group Guppiespressquest, which studies small presses now publishing mysteries. When I announced it, I was deluged with wonderful, warm congratualtions. A lot of Guppies are toasting me tonight with their Valentine wine and chocolate. They are the ones who truly understand what a big thing this is. It also means lots of work--writing, promotion, etc. But it's what I retired to do--and I'm happy. And lest they feel slighted--I have to say my family is full of praise and excited about this. I think Thursday Betty and I are going to a posh restaurant, so that will be my celebration (I have a coupon:-).
Five stars to Lorraine Bartlett's A Crafty Killing, a cozy set in an artists' mall. I love the concept of a huge building, like an antique mall, devoted to artists' work. The building is in Victoria Square (in a fictional town near Rochester--NY, I suppose, but maybe Minnesota). So the whole atmosphere is Victorian, and there are lots of wonderful characters--and a few bad ones. I decided this afternoon, with my desk piled high, that finishing that book was the thing I had to do first. My reasoning was that if I finished it, it would no longer tempt me. Now I'm reading a serious (and probably heavy) book on the place of literature in today's culture. Good to stretch the mind.

Campaign work and an email day

Fun doing phone calls at the Bill White campaign headquarters today. When I first started several weeks ago, I was the only one in the room (which I kind of liked) but today, as the election draws near, there were about ten people in there making phone calls (a bit distracting for my challenged ears). Still, I talked to lots of people who were going to vote for White and one man whose disparaging comments about Republicans I can't repeat. Then there was the lady who said, "I've had enough of the other guy. Haven't you?" I assured her I'd had more than enough. Sure, there were about three who told me they knew who they were going to vote for and it wouldn't be Bill White. So be it. I was nonetheless encouraged by the support for him I saw.
Lunch with an old and good friend and then home where I surely dealt with 100 emails between 1:30 and eight tonight--mostly Sisters in Crime and Guppies (going to be published). They're time consuming, but I'm afraid to skip any because some have valuable information. A nap, a bike ride, a supper of leftovers, and I'm back at my desk, hope to get to read tonight.

Finishing a project

There's something  unsettling about finishing a project--a sense of triumph, yes, but also a moment of almost bewilderment. What will I do next? I sent off the rough draft of my Texas food book to the editor today--if she likes it and I end up with a contract, there will be a lot more to do. But for the time being it's out of my hands. Oh, of course I'll find snippets and recipes here and there that I want to add, but  for the time being it's done. And I wait.
Meantime, I can go back to my novel--no wonder the poor thing suffers. I work on it for a while, then abandon it, then have to go back and pick up the threads, each time hoping I'll have an epiphany about where the darn thing is going. I know roughly, but I'm really plowing through this first draft. Then there's the project my agent told me about--but I've heard nothing from him again or the publisher.
My mom always used to tell me that the Lord works in mysterious ways, and I am convinced over and over that it's true. Today, when I sent that first draft, the editor wrote back and asked if I'd be interested in co-authoring a book. She has a project, about women in the American West, that really interests her but needs some help. I replied of course I'd be interested. So, maybe, there's my next project.
Meantime, it's a busy week ahead, and tonight, with no project on my desk, at least no immediately active one, I'll read a mystery. There's been some posts on the Sisters in Crime listserv about what you do when you finish a project. Suggestions range from starting the next one to cooking to taking a vacation. My answer? Read a mystery.
Fixed a nice, light supper tonight. Some of that good tuna I get from Oregon, with chopped red onion and tomato, basil, capers, salt and olive oil. Yumm! I ate more than I thought I would. Did a bad thing (for the cat but one he liked) and drained the tuna water over some kidney diet cat food. Talk about self defeating! But Wywy was happy.

Elmer Kelton, writing deadlines, and hot weather

Today I went to a meeting at TCU Press about the Elmer Kelton titles we reprint and those we are about to sign a renewal of rights for. Elmer, for those who don't know, was a beloved novelist who wrote Texas history, from before the Alamo to the present, in a way no one else could, with a true Texas voice that no one could ever imitate. Born in the sand hills of Crane County, he grew up on stories of cowboys (his father was a ranch foreman), and he wove these into his books, along with a rich and well-researched knowledge of history. Probably his classic is The Time It Never Rained, a novel about the seven-year drought of the 1950s. One critic called it "one of the dozen or so best novels written by an American in the 20th Century." Elmer died last August, and we wondered, suspected, hoped there would be a bump of interest in his work. Sales prove that to be true. And today a friend sent me a link to Amazon.com that shows that a new copy of the small literary biography of Elmer I did in the 1990s may now be had for $263. Wow! Elmer, a perfect gentleman, always expressed his profound appreciation to TCU Press for keeping his works in print, and I wanted to shout at him that his books had kept TCU Press alive. He wrote, if I'm correct, about 60 books. A true marvel. If  you haven't read him, make it a point to do so. And as a person, we all miss him mightily. Gentle, kind, soft spoken, self-demurring with that politeness of a cowboy that always seemed a little more uncomfortable around women. But not his Austrian-born wife of many years, whom he adored. Watch for a festschrift, a small book honoring him, from TCU Press in the spring: Elmer Kelton: Memories and Essays.
Jungle Red Writers, a blog written by several members of Sisters in Crime, has a challenge out to members and authors to write one page a day before turning on the internet. It's not quite something I can follow--I go for the internet first thing in the morning--but it has inspired me this week to write a thousand words a day on my current novel. In fact, I think today I wrote about 1500. And I'm following that old advice--just keep writing. Worry about what sense it makes when you go back through for the first edit.
The 100+ temperatures continue in Texas--hot, muggy, and fairly discouraging. My basil is shriveled no matter how much I water it. But relief is finally on the way--who would believe that predicted highs in the mid-90s sound wonderful. But they do. By Sunday night or Monday. Meantime I have a spoiled dog because he spends all his time indoors. So do I as much as possible.

Why Writers Write

The Guppies listserv, a branch of Sister in Crime for those who are "going to be published," has been running a series of comments from "pre-published" authors answering questions such as where are you on your work in progress, is this your first manuscript, what's hardest for you--plotting, characterization, etc., and what do you do when you get discouraged. The answers are all over the place--some people are on their first manuscript, others have old ones stacked in the deep freeze. Many find plotting hard (me among them) but for others it's simply finding the time to write--or the drive--or the energy. But the thing that has struck me is that so many have said things like, "I like my characters. I want to stick with them," or "I am not healthy if I don't write--I have to go into therapy" or "I can't imagine not writing." One woman said she writes e-mails, blogs, anything to be creative if she's stuck on a story.
I know exactly how they feel. If I don't have something on my desk to write, I'm at loose ends. I'm fortunate right now to have two projects: the novel in progress and the nonfiction book. Lately I've been concentrating on the latter, but since Fred Erisman re-read my novel (about half a novel) and  decided his earlier questions were irrelevant and he "is hooked," I feel myself being drawn back to the novel and its possibilities. I'll have lunch with him Friday, and I'm sure we'll talk about it.
When people ask my why I blog, it's the same answer--it's a chance to write to the world. I have long felt that working things out in words is the same as a mathematician working things out in number. I just can't, God help me, do anything but the most elementary math.

Gluten free

I don't want to crow prematurely but this, my first gluten-free day, was easy. Cottage cheese for breakfast (I may have to change that, since it's high sodium and dairy). Then a luncheon at TCU for our new book, Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook,--I worried about the food and since the first chapter, on pioneer times, gives directions for cooking squirrel, everyone in the office was joking that the entree would be chicken-fried squirrel. It wasn't. Tossed salad, chicken strips (with onion and bell pepper which I ignored), guacamole, and corn chips. I bypassed the peach pudding dessert. The luncheon had the best attendance of any of the "What's On Your Book Shelf?" luncheons sponsored monthly by Human Resources--82 people and 35 books sold.  And it was a lot of fun, with lots of laughter.
The book was, I think, my idea, because I love to cook and I love cookbooks, thought it would be interesting to see what the women of Grace & Gumption: Stories of Fort Worth Women, cooked. And besides, we'd had such good luck with that book that I thought a cookbook would sell well. There was some conceern that the original book had been trying to draw attention to women's roles beyond being housewives and here we were putting them right back in the kitchen. But we got past that and general editor Katie Sherrod dealt with it nicely in her preface. Let's face it, for all of the 20th Century, women were expected to do the cooking and feed their families--though some welcomed the advent of fast food, frozen dinners, and the like. The book is much more than a cookbook--it's social history and in that sense it extends beyond Fort Worth. There are some recipes I might cook--and some I never will, like the squirrel or the most bizarre hollandaise sauce mixture I've every heard of.
Tonight I had still more tuna and stir-fried mushrooms, green beans, and cherub tomatoes. I think I can get the hang of this gluten-free thing. Otherwise it was an unremarkable day--working on my chapter on Wolf Brand Chili and tonight writing a piece for my writing class on adoption. It's fun to write when the words just seem to flow--as opposed to cases when you have to squeeze each one out.
I've joined yet another Sisters in Crime sub-group, so my email is crammed every day. May have to do something about that. But I sure am busy from dawn to dark these days.

A break is good for you

Thanks to all the nice folks from Sisters in Crime who've said good things about my blog--you've encouraged me to keep at it, and I hope some of you will guest blog for me!
I haven't done a lick of meaningful work today--I've piddled, washing a bit of laundry, wrapping Christmas packages, catching up on blogs I haven't read, and doing I don't know what. Went to see Charles and take him prune bread (his wife's recipe) but he was asleep and I don't know if the nursing home will let him eat it or not. When I talked to him later, he said he was looking forward to it, and he sounded most jovial. Tonight Sue's parents came for a glass of wine, and we had a good visit--and some terrific smoked trout. Yum, good! I'll be gone the rest of their visit, will probably miss them at Christmas, so it was nice to sit and talk. But where did the day go?
Well, I sort of know. I'm leaving town tomorrow--will spend two days with Jamie (youngest son) and his family, and then Jordan, Jacob and I will spend two days with Colin (oldest son) and his family. So I'll be out of my routine (yes, I'm taking my computer and my Kindle--how bad is that?). But I couldn't settle down today to do anything that would require following through--like tackling the edit of the draft of my second mystery.
But then during free writing this morning, it occurred to me that's good. It's good to be away, out of my routine--my subconscious will keep working on the things that are on my mind, and I can make notes on my computer if need be. But I'll be in fresh company, enjoying grandchildren, with such things as writing and the office and all that far in the distance. I'm looking forward to it.
Oh, there are the usual worries--am I taking the right clothes? I never do, and yet for five days, I'm taking enough for a week at least. Have I remembered all my medications and makeup (in Austin, Sawyer asked me why I wore makeup: "Is it supposed to make you look pretty?" I asked him if he didn't think it was working!) The animals and the house will be well taken care of, with watchful neighbors and a diligent pet-sitters. So I can leave with a free conscience, but there's always that nagging doubt. I am determined to put it behind me and enjoy my family because they're all so wonderful. The only ones I won't see are the Austin branch, and I spent a weekend with them over Halloween.
Of course, I already have notes of things to deal with on Monday morning and a staff meeting scheduled for Monday afternoon right during my nap time!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I may blog . . . and I may not!

Rejection and the joy of cooking

Tonight, about five on a Saturday, Five Star Press, who has had the mystery that is the first in my projected series, decided to pass on it. Odd time of day and odd day for such a communication. They've had it, as an exclusive, for ten months, once asked for more time, and after a second query assured me that it was at the second tier (what does that mean?) and they'd get back to me in two weeks--that was about ten weeks ago. The rejection came without constructive comment, just "I've decided to pass," which is doubly frustrating. Tonight I don't know if I'm angry or just numb. Will have to decide what to do next but I sure don't have to decide that tonight. Still, I know it's unfair to have kept it that long as an exclusive, and I'll never again give an agent or a publishing house an unlimited exclusive (I'm learning from Sisters in Crime). I think a part of me always thought that getting a yes from them was a pipe dream, but a part of me still thinks the mystery will be published. Got to do some serious research now on publishers.
On the other hand, it was a good day because I spent much of it cooking. Jacob had spent the night, and his mom told me to have him ready at 8:15 because they were going to do a charity walk. Easier said than done, and when she rushed in here, late and impatient, both Jacob and I were taken aback--he fussed, wouldn't wear the pants she wanted, wouldn't wear the race T-shirt because it was too big for him. I kept quiet--no sense talking to that mood. But after they left I ran to the grocery and came home and cooked.
By noon I had made a huge batch of chocolate chip squares (like cookies only you do them in two 9x13 pans) for tree trimming, basil mayonnaise for tomorrow night's dinner, a squash casserole that I had a bit of tonight, and fromage fort--Jacques Pepin's recipe for using up leftover bits of cheese by making a spread, adding garlic, black pepper, and white wine. This evening, Sue came for a quick glass of wine, and then I began packaging the squares for freezing--almost as much trouble as making them. Had squash casserole, sauteed ground sirloin, and asparagus spears for dinner--who could ask for a better dinner? Though my back was tired, I felt sort of self-satisfied. When I cook these days, I find after an hour, I need five minutes in a chair, then I'm back in the kitchen.
My annual tree trimming party which this year is going to be a "Recession/Retirement/Belt Trimming" party--no Brie, no caviar, lots of Mexican dips, etc. Tomorrow I'll make sausage balls and bake them. My freezer is rapidly getting overcrowded.
Tonight I'll read a novel and cogitate on rejection. But I'm not as distressed as I thought I'd be.

E-lists, mysteries, and foood, of course

I spent much of today improving my e-communication position. I've been reading on Sisters in Crime and the Guppie list how important Twitter is. I'd signed up some time ago but never did anything with it, because I simply didn't know what to do. The buzz on the Guppie list today was all about Twitter, so I signed up to follow some Guppies, and then, through the listserv, a bunch of them signed up to follow me. But when I checked my site, I found lots of postings from people I didn't know--only recognized one or two names. So it's a lot of stuff to wade through, time-consuming, and I don't know what for. But I did find some lists I want to follow, like agents and food and Guppies. I feel like I've just dipped my toe in the water, and I'm in awe of those who are proficient at it. Also I'm sort of hesitant to fill in that box that asks "What are you doing right now?" What am I doing that I want to share with the world? On a more practical note, I retrieved my user name and password for the Sisters in Crime Web page, which is full of helpful information. Browsed on it, so I'll know where to go for specific things. Finally, my brother sent me a link to a petition I want to sign--long story, but there is a move afoot to add an M.D. degree program to the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine and like many loyal to the DO profession, I don't want to see that happen. John called with phone directions, but still all I got when I clicked on the link was the sales site for Go Daddy. So I finally emailed the state osteopathic organization and asked them to fax me the form. Whew! I'm about through with technology for the day.
I've been chewing on that bit of advice, found on Agent Quest, that your blog must reflect your focus on writing mysteries. No trivia about my hamster died, or my grandchild said this, because agents will decide you're not serious. Well, I do report on my grandchildren and my cooking, and if I had a hamster and it died, I'd blog about that. I don't know that I want an agent who expects my life to be so narrowly focused, and I'm not sure but what having such a rich and varied life doesn't help my mysteries. But I read the posts on Agent Quest and realize that most of those ladies--and a few gentlemen--spend a lot more time on their mysteries than I do. Yet I do feel I am a serious professional. So what's the answer? First of all, I don't think I could come up with serious, weighty comments about writing every day; second, I'm not about to give up grandchildren and food.
So here goes: I fixed Norwegian hamburgers tonight. Jordan was home sick all day but since she was fever-free she brought Jacob and Christian came straight from his office. Norwegian hamburgers are a recipe from Torhild Griesbach, Colin's mother-in-law who was raised in Norway. We all adore Torhild and her "meat patties" (I think that's what she calls them--Colin gave them the Norwegian hamburger name). The recipe is in Cooking My Way through Life, but basically it's lean hamburger, eggs, corn starch, pepper and enough milk to bind. You saute onions, then brown the patties in the same pan (having removed the onions). Here's the part that amazes me: you make 4-5 packets of instant beef gravy and then add the patties to simmer, along with the onions and 2 boullion cubes. You cannot tell me that 40-50 years ago in Norway they had instant gravy mix packets! Still it is delicious, and I could eat a whole pan by myself. As I was washing dishes and licking extra gravy off the spoon, it occurred to me those gravy packets probably have a whole lot of salt in them--and tomorrow is weigh day.

Weekend memories

This is five-year-old Sawyer riding his bike without training wheels. His parents took him to the track a couple of weeks ago, and Brandon held on to the seat until he got started, then let go--and Sawyer was off! Now he can start himself, and he rides around the quarter-mile track at a fast clip. We spent almost three hours at the middle school track near their home, and there were lots of parents trying to teach their children to ride--Sawyer was by far the youngest and the best (okay, I'm a grandmother, and I'm prejudiced--but he really was!). He fell once that I saw, but got up, righted his bike, aligned the pedals to where it was easiest for him to start and took off again. Brandon was running laps, and Sawyer was trying hard to lap him. Three-year-old Ford has training wheels and does very well but doesn't stay with it like Sawyer does. Our stay at the track was punctuated by Brandon's lengthy trip to the bike shop to get Sawyer's chain repaired and then a trip to the funkiest smoothie place I've ever been with the absolutely best smoothie I've ever hard--it had some kind of berries that were supposed to be anti-aging, but when Megan tasted it she said, "It has lots of raspberries. That's why you like it." And it was. Though I discovered smoothies aren't point-free for Weight Watchers--all that fruit turns to sugar. Upshot of our trip to the track was that I came away with a nice sunburn on my face, neck, and front and back left exposed by my v-neck shirt.

Sunday was a delightfully lazy day--breakfast at 10:30 (bacon and eggs--boy, did I blow the diet), then the track, then home to read and nap. Megan worked hard at fixing Tuscany chicken they'd had when they were in Italy recently--it was good but not quite what she wanted, and we discussed ways to improve on it. Lots of herbs--sage, oregano, rosemary and garlic, great bunches of them. I was sorry this morning that the boys had to go to school, the parents had to go to work, and I had to go home. I see these grandsons less than almost all of the other grandchildren, so it was a delight to spent time with them and get to know them. Ford, when urged to give me hugs, said, "One hug!" but he did give it. Sawyer is much more free with his hugs and the wettest kisses of any grandchild! I promised them we would all be together in Colorado at Christmas.

On the way down to Austin Friday, Melinda and I discovered Heritage Homestead, a community of what I suspect are Mennonites. They have a restaurant, gift shop, pottery shop, grist mill, and who knows what else. From the fresh flowers on the tables, I suspect someplace there's a wonderful garden. The landscape is tree-covered, with brushy-sided creeks, thick vegetation, and log fences. The building are rough-hewn logs, inside and out. And the food--the dining facilities are impeccably clean, and the food is delicious. We stopped there on the way to Austin and liked it so well, we stopped on the way back. It's a bit west of the Elm Mott exit on I-35. What we commented on today was how serene the people looked--the women in the restaurant were modestly dressed (but not the funky dresses of the El Dorado people), with hair pulled back into buns. But they were all so quietly happy and genuinely welcoming. It was just a great place.

I've been reading on the Sisters in Crime blog that if you're submitting to agents it's important to have a blog, but it's also important to make it serious, about writing, no talk about your grandchildren, cooking--all the things that make up my blog. Yes thank you, I am serious about writing, but I am also serious about a lot of other aspects of my life--and grandchildren and cooking rank high on that list. If an editor or agent is going to reject my work on the basis of the content of my blog, so be it.

Still rehashing memories of the Texas Book Festival--people seen, comments heard on the future of publishing, interest shown in various books. It's a great learning experience about books, and with 35,000 people attending, it's a sure sign that the future of the book is secure. Phooey on all those who predict the book as we know it will be obsolete and print-to-order is the future of publishing. I don't believe it. Somehow the festival restores my faith in the career I devoted much of my life too.

Being a writer again

I have sadly neglected the writing part of my life in the last few months. I can give all kinds of excuses beyond the holidays (though that was a factor too)--but I got tired of querying and getting no response, not even a polite "no thank you." I was quite comfortable with my first mystery but not really sure where the second was going, etc., etc. etc. I read an interesting response to an online question about writer anxiety. The mentor of the day was an experienced editor and she suggested that many writers fear that the truth will out--I'm a fake, not a good writer. I'm full of cliches and don't have any original thoughts. Or, maybe, as has occurred to me, I've written my one best book--I think I know which one it is--and will never equal that again. Sometimes anxiety is ambivalence--should I continue to "polish" that first book or should I work on the second. For heaven's sake, you can polish forever, even over-polish.
The suggested ways of dealing with this anxiety were to acknowledge that every writer feels that way (a big plus, because I didn't think it was true), that fear is based on a "what if," which means you're borrowing trouble. Recognizing the fear is good, but as most of us know in the back of our minds the way to conquer it is to act. Writer's block? Write your way through it. As J.A.Jance once said to me in a mostly forgettablel meeting, "We all know the way to write a mystery is to put your seat in the chair at the computer." Easier said than done.
Belonging to Sisters in Crime and the Guppie (Going to be Published) group has taught me so much about the business of writing mysteries, but it has in some ways intimidated me--those ladies (and a few gentlemen) are so intense about marketing, the ins and outs of the business, that I think, with some 60 books or more to my credit, I'm a novice. I liked it when I could wirte, send the mss. to my agent, and she'd send it off to a publisher who liked my work. I didn't expect the business side of writing to be so all-consuming that you almost lose heart for the writing.
Tonight I took a big step in getting past the fear and the block: I sent my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, off to a small publisher, along with the requested bio, writing history and synopsis. They said either send the first three chapters or the entire manuscript, so I opted for the latter. I chose this company because getting an agent when you're unknown in the field seems nigh impossible, and I've contributed to anthologies produced by this same company, so I thought that gave me some credibility. Besides, because I work daily at a small press, I think I would prefer to deal with one. It will never make me rich, but it won't put the sales pressure on me that a major house would, nor the publicity pressure. I will of course be crushed if I get a rejection, but then I'll go back to plan B, whatever that it.
Meantime, tomorrow, I'm going back to the second novel, No Neighborhood for Old Women. It's mushy in my mind and maybe after having left it sit this long, I can sharpen it.
Meantime, I'm working at home tomorrow, once again waiting for an AT&T person, but I brought a stack of proposals with me, in addition to a new manuscript to read. Two weeks out of the office makes me fall really behind, and a lot of things have kept me away from the busineses at hand this week. Every doctor's appt. I canceled in December is catching up with me in January! I guess it's good to have a lot of work to do--I can avoid the January, post-holiday blahs.

Lots of nothing

I haven't posted in days. Brandon, the Austin son-in-law, asked me once if I wouldn't lose my audience if I didn't post for days, and I told him I hoped not. But this time it's a combination of being busy and not having anything significant to say, unless I wanted to get on a poitical soapbox. Okay, I'll begin there: I read a letter to the editor the other day where someone wrote that they would never vote for Sara Palin to be a heartbeat away from the presidency because she uses poor grammar. The writer was offended because before the vice-presidential debate Palin approached Senator Biden and said, "Can I call you Joe?" Well, clearly, as the writer pointed out, she should have said, "May I call you Joe?" I laughed out loud. I can think of a hundred reasons not to vote for Sarah Palin, but that's pretty low on my list.
Tonight is the first night all week that I have stayed home alone--Monday I went to dinner with friends, Tuesday Betty and I went to the same restaurant because it was Lobsterama, where they sell a whole lobster for $13.95. It was delicious, and we're going back next week while the event is still on. Last night Jordan and Jacob came for dinner, and I laughed at Jacob when he left. After sweet hugs and kisses, he said, "Bye bye, Juju. Bye bye, dinner." I think he meant a phrase he's recently learned which is "Thank you dinner."
Work has been busy but unremarkale. We have a huge, sold-out author event next week, and that's taken a lot of my planning. I feel good about it--which is always a good sign--but there are a thousand ways it could go wrong, and I'll breathe easier when it's over.
And I'm trying to get back into that second novel. I've learned so very much from the Sister in Crime list, the Agent Quest list, and a cozy class I'm taking online. One of the things stressed is to profile your villain first, then profile the other suspects--something I hadn't done. I just leapt into it. But now I'm going back and doing that. And it all works out in my mind, but I find myself reluctant to actually get back to writing. Maybe it's because I've had no luck at placing the first novel--though I realize I haven't tried as many agents and publishers nor been rejected as many times as many many other authors have. Maybe I'm getting lazy, and maybe I'm too easily seduced into reading other people's mysteries. I need some self-discipline, which I've always prided myself on having at least a fair amount of (oops, a sentence ending with a preposition).
Cool weather--well, cool for us--has finally arrived in Texas. When I came home this afternoon, the house felt cool, and I closed some of the windows that have been open for a month. After a nap, I woke up cold and put on a sweatshirt. I think it's a sure sign of fall, though it is really late this year. Whatever, the cool nights make for wonderful sleeping.

Musings about authors

I once knew a man involved with books who delighted in telling you about all the famous writers he'd met--well, actually I've known several of those. But this one seemed to always say, "When I rode in an elevator with . . . . " and name someone famous. (I actually once rode in an elevator with James Garner, told him I was a fan, and he shook my hand and said, "Well, bless your heart." I also once rode in an elevator with Tom Sellick, but it was early morning and he looked pretty forbidding, so I didn' speak--neither did anyone else.) But this is sort of that kind of column--a couple of authors I've encountered one way or another, and a comment on authors.
A couple of years ago J. A. Jance was in town for an evening program. At the time she was probably my favorite mystery writer (she does the J. P. Beaumont series set in Seattle and the Joanna Brady series set in Arizona, and among other things I admire her ability to go from one to the other--but both are great reading.) The host of the evening, knowing I was a fan, invited me to meet her for a glass of tea in the late afternoon--he was giving her an early Mexican dinner. I tried not to gush, just to say I admired her work a lot, and I was trying to wrote mysteries and did she have any advice. She said something to the effect of, "Well, we all know how you do that. You put yourself in that chair in front of the keyboard and you stay there." I felt dismissed, insignificant, stupid--you name it. Later at the performance I learned that her son-in-law was dying half a continent away while I sat there blathering like an idiot about wanting to write. And in spite her family situation she gave a witty, charming interview onstage that night. So I don't hold it against her at all, and I still love her books.
But her quick comment was all wrong. Some people can sit at the computer all day every day and never turn out a publishable work. I've known that since I taught freshman English--some people can write, others can't. And mysteries are a whole different thing. In the not quite a year that I've belonged to Sisters in Crime I've learned an incredible amount about plotting mysteries, character, marketing, selling to an agent, a thousand different aspects that I never learned when I had an agent happily marketing western historical fiction for me. There are women in the Guppies (Going to be Published) group who have four, five, and six unpublished manuscripts, have been working on them for years. They obviously put their butts in the chair and the hands on the keyboard a lot but so far to no avail. I don't know that I have that patience. I want to sell the one I've completed. That will encourage me to move on to others. But I'm so impressed with the helpful spirit, the willingness to offer advice and to cheer for victories, commiserate over rejections, of Sisters in Crime and its sub-groups.
I've never met Sara Paretsky, another of my mystery writer heroes and a founder of Sisters in Crime. Her heroine, V. I. Warshawski, is a pretty hard-boiled p.i. in Chicago, so the setting appeals to me. Maybe a year ago I read Paretsky's nonfiction Writing in an Age of Silence and was so impressed by parts of it that I tracked her down on the internet and sent an email--and got back the most gracious personal reply. Paretsky contributes to a blog that I follow--The Outfit: A Collective of Chicago Mystery Writers--and once when she posted something about Chicago's South Side, I left a comment about how it resonated with me as a child of the South Side (though V. I.'s South Side is Calumet City, far south of where I grew up). Once again, I got a graciou response.
So I guess my point here is that in general seasoned successful writers aren't territorial, afraid of competition. They're more than willing to reach out and help beginners, to encoruage, to give advice. And that's comforting. I'd like to meet J. A. Jance again, under better circumstances.
Meanwhile, tonight I'm not going to put my fingers to the keyboard. It's Friday night, and I've been working frantically all week, and I'm going to read a good mystery.