What We're Writing: First drafts

 JENN McKINLAY: It's always weird to me that whenever I have a book come out the next book in the series is always due, which guarantees that the manuscript won't have my full attention and neither will the work in progress. 

As I'm promoting WITCHES OF DUBIOUS ORIGIN (on sale now for 27% off at Amazon -- just sayin'), I'm madly trying to finish the second in the series WITCHES OF QUESTIONABLE INTENT(out next October!). It makes for some rather exhausting days and sometimes I forget which witch book I'm talking about. 

I have been having a grand time, immersing myself in the fantasy world. It's taken a little getting used to as there are no rules -- other than to tell a compelling story, obvy -- and when I get stuck I realize I have to look at whatever plot issue I'm having from a magical standpoint. 

Here's a snippet from my work in progress to show you what I mean. In this scene, the staff of the Books of Dubious Origin department are checking their vault for an item they believe has been stolen.

     The vault was another surprise. It was not a dank, musty cave with piles of treasured books, magical artifacts, or gold. No, it looked exactly like the safe deposit boxes in a bank vault, with one distinct difference. Instead of locks that required keys or passcodes, these drawers all had a single eye where normally a handle would be. And at the moment, all the eyes were watching us. In other words, nightmare fuel.

     “Steady, love,” Jasper whispered in my ear. “They can’t harm you.”

     “My psyche begs to differ,” I muttered. The eyes swiveled in my direction and then blinked as one. I felt my knees go slack.

     Miles moved across the room and gently placed his hand over one of the drawers, closing its eye. All the eyes faded into the flat metal front of their drawers except the one Miles had touched, which popped open when he removed his hand.

     A rush of air exited my lungs. Maybe it was my own discomfort at being the center of attention but having so many eyes on me was creepy and I could see how it would be a deterrent for would be criminals.

     “Open.” The eye closed and the drawer slowly opened as he’d commanded. Miles glanced inside and went still. “It’s not here.”

When I originally sat down to write it, I thought to myself what would be something that would freak me out in a vault? Eyeballs came to mind, no idea why, but I ran with it. This has become my method for writing the fantasy novels. I try to stretch myself as far as I can and see what happens. We'll see what my editor thinks of this scene and hopefully it will make it into the final version.

Also, after I wrote it, I discovered there are drawer pulls that are eyeballs so maybe I'm not that weird? LOL.

What about you, Reds and Readers, what are things that would creep you out in a story? Would you keep reading? Or slam the book shut and run?

What I'm Writing: Emails, To-Do Lists and Comments

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: As you're reading this, I'm at New England Crime Bake (along with Hank, Hallie, and many of your fave authors.) This is a kind of prelude to the main event upcoming in my life: the release of AT MIDNIGHT COMES THE CRY on November 18. (Rhys's FROM CRADLE TO GRAVE comes out the same day, so make sure you've pre-ordered!)

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an author with a new release is in need of a book tour. My last release day was April 4, 2020. Do any of you remember what you were doing on April 4, 2020? Were you going to a library or a bookstore to hear me speak? No, you were not. You were home tearing old t-shirts into toilet paper and washing the groceries.

 

So it's been a while. I'm booked for a shorter tour this time - I'm only flying to Scottsdale (PHX) and Houston (IAH.) Fortunately, there isn't any nation-wide, record-breaking problem that might interfere with my travels... 

I'm not saying I'm causing these things to happen, you understand. I'm just saying - maybe stop hoping I'll put out a book each year. 

 

After I get back home (please, God, please) I'm touring around New England and upstate New York, staying with friends and, you know, just enjoying the vacation paradise that is upstate New York in late November. 

 

 So the writing I'm doing? Emails - emails to confirm, to make changes, to find out when my REAL ID is going to arrive (that's a whole other story.) To-Do lists: packing, what I need to do to get things ready for the pet sitter, finishing touches on the new website, keeping up with my college students (yes, still teaching two sections this fall!) And commenting as everything ramps up; on Facebook, here, on the aforementioned students' papers. (Most frequent advice to students: proofread.)

 

If you're going to be around and about (assuming this time, like, a meteor won't strike the earth,) here's where I'll be:

 

Tues, Nov 18 - Poisoned Pen, Scottsdale, 7pm - with Rhys and Jenn!

Wed, Nov 19 - Murder By the Book, Houston, 6:30pm

Thurs, Nov 20 - PRINT, Portland, ME, 7pm

Fri, Nov 21 - Book House at Stuyvesant Plaza, Albany, NY, 6p,

Sun, Nov 23 - Battenkill Books, Cambridge, NY, 2pm 

Tues, Dec 2 - Baxter Memorial Library, Gorham, ME, 6pm

Thurs, Dec 4 - Wellesley Books, Wellesley, MA, 7pm - with Paula Munier!

 

I hope to see some of you in person, dear readers!

What We're Writing--Debs on Nuts and Bolts

DEBORAH CROMBIE: When I first started writing, I devoured anything I could find about how other writers wrote. Computer or paper, morning or evening, outline or no outline. I was sure there was a magic bullet somewhere--a formula you could follow for tackling what sometimes felt like an insurmountable task.

It turns out that there isn't (or at least I haven't discovered it,) other than butt-in-chair, which just so happens to be the hardest thing for me. But I'm still fascinated by the nuts and bolts, how other people do this weird exercise in making things up and turning those things into a finished book, so earlier this week when Hank gave us a peek at her editing process, I was agog. Hank keeps track of her edits! 

I am the edit queen, I swear I can edit a page fifty times, but I do not keep track! I don't save drafts, either. Once something is over-written, it is gone forever. Yikes! Contemplating this makes me feel a wee bit insecure, as if I'm writing without a safety net, but I think doing it any other way would totally discombobulate me. 

As for what I'm writing that might disappear into the ether, I'm still plodding away at Kincaid/James #20. Is there a prize for tortoise authors, I wonder...

It's hard to find a spoiler-free snippet, but here, edited even as I copy-pasted, Gemma and her sergeant visit a restored barge on the Thames. (This is not the barge described, but a view of the same stretch of the Thames above Teddington Lock.)

They reached the sturdy-looking ramp and Gemma strode up it ahead of Butler, and onto the deck of the boat. Before she could knock on the cabin door, it opened and Mabel was jumping and sniffing at Gemma’s legs, the fan of her tail wagging madly. Gemma crouched to stroke her. “Hello, lovely girl. Nice to see you again.” She glanced up. “Davey, this is Mabel. We met yesterday.”

“Mabel, enough,” said John Quillen, now visible inside the cabin. “Inspector,” he added, then acknowledged Butler with a nod. “Sergeant.” His t-shirt and cargo shorts made Gemma feel seriously over-dressed, but he looked more haggard than he had the previous day. He was unshaven, his wavy dark hair disheveled. “Do come in. I take it you didn’t have any trouble finding us.”

“You might have warned us about the parking,” said Gemma as they followed him inside, softening the comment with a smile. “Wherever do you put your van?”

His features relaxed. “Ah. Sorry about that. Sometimes I get lucky. Otherwise, I have a mate who has a repair garage off the High Street in Teddington. He lets me leave the van in his yard when he has the space.” The three of them and the dog made quite a crowd in the barge’s tiny cabin and Gemma was relieved when Quill motioned towards the open interior doorway. “If you’ll go down, we can talk in the lounge.” Mabel turned and vanished into the opening with a bound. After another encouraging gesture from Quill, and with growing curiosity, Gemma followed the dog. She found herself on ladder-steep stairs and wondered if it might be easier to go down backwards rather than forwards, but she was already committed to the forward-facing descent.

At the bottom, she stood, gaping. Somewhere in her subconscious, she supposed she’d expected dark and dank in a living space that was at least partly underwater. But the light pouring from portholes and skylights flooded the long room before her, and her first impression was of colors, reds and blues and the golden warmth of wood. A drafting table anchored one end of the living area, and in the other, there was a small sofa, a coffee table, and an interesting-looking modernist leather chair.

With a pang, she realized it reminded her of the garage flat where she and Toby had lived before they’d moved into the Notting Hill house with Duncan and Kit. That tiny space had given her a much-needed sense of control over her chaotic life as a single, working mother, and she had loved it passionately.

I want to live on this boat! I wanted to live in Gemma's garage flat, too. Maybe my obsession with small, organized spaces is due to the fact that I live in a big, rambling, messy house.

REDs and writer friends, how do you manage drafts of your work? 

And readers, do you like references to previous books in a series?

P.S. Mabel is a liver and white springer spaniel, and I'm sure I'm projecting my spaniel desires, too.

P.S.S. If anyone has discovered that magic bullet, do let me know.