What We're Writing: Lucy's Thinking About Mothers

LUCY BURDETTE: since Mother’s Day is coming up soon, I thought I’d write about one of my favorite topics, the mother figures in Hayley Snow’s life. She has quite a few of them by this point in the series! She has developed a wonderful relationship with her own mother, and a good solid relationship with her stepmother, and she is even on steady ground with her mother-in-law. (Not an easy feat!) And of course everyone’s favorite mother-character, Miss Gloria, is planted firmly in Hayley’s world.

Hayley’s mom makes her first appearance in the second installment of the series, DEATH IN FOUR COURSES. Hayley is attending the Key West Loves Literature conference in this book—an event that’s fraught because she is dying to become a food writer and critic of note, and all her foodie idols are in attendance. She’s made what she begins to worry is a big mistake: invited her mother to come with her. Janet Snow is a foodie too, but she lacks confidence and direction and focuses her anxiety on her daughter. This scene takes place during the conference’s opening remarks:

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Key West to listen to me,” Dustin was saying from the stage. “So I am thrilled to introduce our keynote speaker, a man who truly needs no introduction.”

“But you’ll give one anyway,” I muttered.

My mother took my hand and pulled it onto her lap. “Oh, sweetie. Let him have his moment.”

She was right—as usual. But still I rolled my eyes and squeezed her fingers back a little harder than I meant to.

“Jonah Barrows has had four major culinary careers in the time most of us have only managed one. His mother once reported that he had a highly sensitive palate right out of the womb—he would only suckle organic goat’s milk.”

The audience tittered. How completely embarrassing, the kind of thing a mother might say. Mine, in fact, was chuckling loudly. “Remember when you’d only eat strained carrots and your skin turned yellow from too much carotene?”

“Mom, stop,” I hissed.

At this point in my current WIP, Key West food critic mystery #15, Hayley’s relationship with her mom has evolved into something comfortable and healthy. They share a lot in common, but not in a competitive way. Here’s a little snippet that I hope shows a bit of that. The two women were both passengers on the boat that blew up off Mallory Square in the book’s opening:

The ringing came from the landline that Nathan suggested we keep in case the cell towers went down someday. He always wanted to be prepared for future disaster. I snatched up the receiver. My mother’s number scrolled over the small screen, and I punched accept.

“Are you OK?” I asked. At the same time, she said, “how do you feel?” We both laughed.

“Shocked,” she said, “horrified. Disappointed but grateful. I’m physically fine and Sam is too.” She lowered her voice as if someone would listen in. “The cops were here. Asking all kinds of questions. I get the feeling they think we are at the center of what might have been the crime of the year in Key West.” 

“Same,” I said. “I got the bigwigs, my husband, the chief, and Steve Torrence. Looking back, do you think you saw anybody doing anything suspicious?”

“I was so focused on getting the food out and making sure everyone was having a lovely time with something to nibble on and full champagne glasses. I wasn’t watching for criminals.” Her voice sounded sad. This promised to be a showcase for her business as well as my ezine.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m sorry. It was going to be such a lovely party. Plus, you’ve lost a lot of your catering equipment.”

“Insurance will cover it,” she said. “We’re alive and well, that’s all that matters. Did you come up with any leads for them?”

“I mentioned that there were a lot of people from the local food world, and that some of them would not have been happy about my reviews. Nathan made fun of that, and we had a little mini spat.”

“Tension is almost inevitable in a crisis,” she said. “He adores you and he respects what you do. But he feels responsible for a lot of trouble right now, and I know he worries about all of us.” She paused, and I could hear the click of her fingernail on her phone. “I wonder if it would be worth us doing some informal interviews with some folks in the foodie world. People that the police might not necessarily reach out to. Even if they did, they might not ask the right questions because they can never truly understand what drives our passion.”

Lucy again. I adore having had the chance to write about the relationship of Hayley and Janet, to observe it grow and mature. I prefer reading series to standalones because I love following the character development that occurs in the best of these. How about you Reds, series or standalones?

PS: If you haven't yet joined the Jungle Reds private Facebook group called Reds and Readers—launched January 1st—there are live chats, giveaways, and so much more! Join now so you don’t miss out... Leave a comment over at Reds and Readers to be entered in the drawing for DEATH IN FOUR COURSES.

Rhys is enjoying the south of France.

 RHYS BOWEN:  I believe I've shared the beginning of my latest opus, called (for now) Mrs. Endicott's Excellent Adventure.  It's about a respectable middle aged woman whose life is turned upside down when her husband says he wants a divorce to marry a younger woman.  He expects her to go away quietly, live in a cottage with knitting and cats. She surprises him by taking his beloved Bentley and setting off for the south of France, a place she had loved as a girl but never been back to since. (Lionel hates abroad. He's says its full of garlic and flies.)

She doesn't go alone. The bossy elderly spinster who runs the village charities appears at her door and begs to come with her. She only has months to live and longs to see the blue Mediterranean. Ellie can't say no. Then she rescues her cleaning lady from an abusive husband, persuading her to come too. The three of them set out on the adventure winding up in a small seaside town near Marseille.

I know that whole coast well. I've rented an apartment twice in the area near Nice. We've driven all along the coast and the scenery is absolutely amazing. I'm basing this book on the town of Cassis, as it would have been before tourism hit--a small harbor, some pastel houses. What I love about writing this book is that I can be there, all day, at my computer. I smell the flowers and the salt air of the sea. I watch the yachts passing and taste the delicious food.

The piece I am sharing is after the ladies have moved in to a villa on a hilltop (how they get this is a part of the plot so you just have to know they are there).

One morning She came upon Dora, sitting on the terrace, staring out to sea. At first she thought Dora was lost in contemplation but then noticed one hand was on her wrist. She was taking her pulse.

                “Are you in pain?” she asked, going over to sit beside her.

                Dora looked up, startled at being interrupted from her reverie. “Oh no. No pain. It’s my heart, you see. Congestive heart failure. It’s funny but for a while I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be dead by now. All the excitement of coming here, finding this place. I’d really forgotten. And it was only now that I noticed how quickly I became out of breath and how weak my pulse had become.

“Should we take you to a doctor?” Ellie asked in concern.

Dora shook her head. “Oh no, my dear. Doctors can’t do anything. One day it will just stop beating and that will be that. It shouldn’t be a messy death for you.”

Ellie looked at her with tenderness. “Are you afraid to die?”

“Afraid?” Dora shook her head fiercely. “No, I’m not afraid. Only annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” Ellie had to smile.

“Yes, at all the things I never managed to do. I never climbed the Himalayas. I never rode with the Bedouins across the desert. I never wrote a novel or found a drug that might cure cancer. I leave no legacy, no proof that I was ever here.”

“I’m sure you were missed in the village,” Ellie said kindly.

“Missed, yes. But not beloved. That fussy old woman. That bossy old woman. That’s the height of my achievement in life, I suppose. Properly ironed altar cloths and perfect flowers for the church. They’ll miss the flowers, but not me.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ellie said. “Let’s just see if we can keep you around a little longer, eh? Buck you up with some good food.”

Dora smiled at her. “You’ve been a good friend, Ellie. One of the only true friends I’ve had. I’ll be sorry to leave this place.” She turned away, staring out to sea again. Today the Mediterranean sparkled under a cloudless sky. A sleek yacht passed, far out to sea. The breeze was scented with blossom.

This should be a book about a woman finding a whole new life and blossoming as a person. The only complication is that they arrive in this little town at the end of 1938. Their world is about to change and how they handle it becomes a main part of the story.

ONe of my great pleasures when I read is to be taken to another time and place, to savor the smells and tastes. This is why I loved Tony Hillerman. I love Kate Morton, Louise Penny, Cara Black and my fellow Reds because I can go to London or Paris or Ireland or Key West or freeze in Upstate New York

So what about you? Do you love to travel vicariously when you read? Favorite authors who take you somewhere?

What We're Writing: Hank is CUTTING!

HANK  PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Jonathan and I went to a black tie event the other night–a gorgeous fundraiser for the Boston Public Library. (Speakers included Heather Cox Richardson, Alison Bechtel, Stacy Schiff. Ooh.) Don't we look happy? 

I am especially happy because I–maybe–am ALMOST  finished with this round of edits.

My book is due in exactly 7 days. I sent in the first draft last month, at, ahem, 121,446 words.

 

That, darling ones, is, as they say in the biz: too long.

 

Well, they say a lot more than that, but ‘too long’ is the point. I do remember, back in the day, when I wrote my very first novel. The first draft of PRIME TIME was 723 pages. How many words is that? Calculating now.

 

Hey Siri, what is 250 times 723?

 

SIRI:  250 times 723 is 180,750.

 

HANK: Well that's pretty hilarious. And I remember, back then, 2005 it was, realizing that I had to cut 400 pages. And it was the most extraordinarily educational thing I've ever done. I cut everything that was repetitive, derivative, cliched, tangential, stuff where I was trying to be funny, and a lot of things where I was trying to be writerly. (That is always the kiss of death.)

 

But killing your darlings is a great thing. If those darlings are clogging my pacing, and keeping readers from the story, they are not my darlings, and I cut cut cut with mad passionate glee.

 

In writing a novel, though, I don't know what to cut until I've written the whole thing.

 

So, that’s what I've been doing for the past two weeks. Going through every word, every sentence, every paragraph, every scene, and asking myself: what work is this doing? Why do I have this? Is this advancing the story? Why would this make you turn the page? Why do you care?

 

As has been announced in Publishers Lunch, my new book is called ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS. It stars Tessa Callaway, a debut novelist with a surprise best-selling book. She's been sent on book tour by her happy publishers, only to discover she's being stalked by... someone. Someone who is out to ruin her career and destroy the family she's left back home --and it's all a result of a faustian bargain she didn't realize she'd made.

 

Great story, huh? When I wrote that little synopsis, I thought so too. Then all I had to do was figure out what it was.

 

Who is after Tessa, and why? Is there something wrong with her family? Her past, her book? Her publisher? Is it arrival author? A rabid fan?

 

Why do you think they call them fans? someone asks her. It comes from fanatic.

Ohh, Tessa says. I thought it was from fantastic.

 

It's very meta, as you can imagine, and quite hilarious to be on book tour while I was writing this. And anyone who's ever traveled, on book tour or not,  will certainly relate to some of the situations Tessa encounters. Anyone who's ever flown, or raced through an airport, or battled with hotel air conditioning. And, most importantly, anyone who's ever been to an author event at a bookstore, or done research in a library.

 

And anyone who has ever tried to juggle a career and a personal life. Tessa realizes she's trying to be a mom to her kids via zoom. And she knows, because of her laptop discussions with her husband, that Henry has control of the zoom screen, and only allowing her to see the specific slivers of the world he wants her to see.

I finally figured out the story! Now. Cut cut cut.

 

And I have discovered kind of a secret for this last stage of editing. As I write, I begin to realize that I am using the same words again and again.

 

Tiny little words like... tiny. At least. Of course and you know and actually and certainly. And wow, people are pausing and smiling and shrugging and grinning like crazy. So I keep track of them, as I notice them, in a notebook.

 

Then, at the end of my draft, I have a page of those pet words. And it's so much fun to go through and do an edit-find for them, and cut cut cut.

 

But the cool part is that not only do I cut those words, but that every time I extract one, the entire sentence it was in gets rearranged. How do I say it in a cooler smarter better way, I ask myself. And sometimes the cooler smarter better way is to take out the sentence entirely.

 

I will confess to you I had said ‘of course’ 64 times. I mean, you know? (Oops. I had 32 ‘I means’ and 15 ‘you knows.’)  When you are writing 1000 words a day or so, you forget the words you used the day before. And I don't worry about it as I go,  I just write write write and have faith that I will take out the right words at the right time.

 

And sometimes, when the book turns to mush in my head, I just pick one of those pet words and search for it. And somehow (21) the Zen of the search gets me back into the book.

But it's the fun part, right? (I haven't counted the’ rights’ yet) . This is the time I get to carve away everything that isn't the book, and the book I meant to write is revealed.

 

Now I'm down to 100, 437 words. Yay me. And a week to go.

 

Do you notice, readers, when an author has repeated a word? There was one book I read, years ago, when the author used the word façade about 50 million times. Didn't anyone catch that, I wondered? I once got a note from an editor saying ‘please be aware of the use of the word flickered.’ Sure enough, I did an edit -find and everything was flickering: eyes, birds, monitors, video screens, digital clocks. Flicker flicker flicker.

 

Writers, do you have words that you constantly use? Whether they are things you don't even notice like just, or some word you've heard that you love, like... lattice, or convoluted, or imbroglio.

 

Tell us the words you notice in your own books, or in the ones you read.

 

And now I'm off to cut cut cut. I mean: cut.

 

(And because you will understand this: YAY. ONE WRONG WORD hardcover went into second printing, did I tell you? Yay.  AND so did THE HOUSE GUEST trade paperback. And HER PERFECT LIFE trade paperback went into third printing! And yes, all because I cut cut cut.)