Hallie in UNLEARN mode #amwriting

HALLIE EPHRON: I’ve been revving up for the writing I proposed to do in the coming year as part of my tenure as my library’s writer-in-residence. (Thank you to the Milton Public Library and to an endowment from Dr. Herb Voigt.)

My goal is to take a detour from writing mystery novels and make sense out of all of the personal writing I’ve done ever since... since the days way back when I started writing about why, despite growing up in a family of writers, I was NOT one.

None of those early essays were published. I knew next to nothing about writing, and less than nothing about pitching and selling my work. But I was smart enough to know that today’s crap is tomorrow’s compost, so I saved it. All of it. Every version of all of it.

My career writing personal essays went nowhere but, tiring of my day job teaching, I found work as a technical writer. It paid. And I learned fast that in the world of technical documents (user manuals, field service guides, …), clarity and brevity are king. Short words (“use”) trump fancy ones (“utilize”). Accuracy matters, and every step and detail needs to be checked.

I was good at it. After all those years teaching, I knew how to ask, “Who’s going to read this and what are they likely to be looking for?” I was under no illusion that my readers expected to be entertained. Success was measured by how few, not how many pages they turned before closing the book.

When I started writing fiction, everything I’d learned as a technical writer went out the window. Fiction readers seek entertainment, not information. Plots unfold in scenes. A character or setting might be a complete invention, or inspired by a real person or place, altered and embellished to fit the plot. (That’s why Lawrence Block titled his book on writing fiction Telling Lies for Fun and Profit.)

The hardest thing for me to learn was viewpoint. I had to remind myself repeatedly that the story had to be narrated by one character at a time--not an omniscient narrator, and not me/the author. Fortunately my pals in my writer’s critique group were merciless, and maybe it helped that I finally wrote KILL THE AUTHOR/KILL THE NARRATOR on a yellow sticky and pasted it to my computer monitor. 

Writing a personal essay is, as Dorothy said when she arrived in the Emerald city, a “horse of a different color,” and once again I find myself having to unlearn. I’ll be digging up memories in search of truths. Personal truths. And already I’m wondering if I’m up to the task.

When I tied my sister’s tricycle to my two-wheeler, was it because she asked me to help her “go fast” (as I think) or did I talk her into it (as she insists)? And what about the horror chagrin I felt when she flew off her trike and landed face first on the sidewalk. I recall it vividly. But did my dad really come charging out of the house raging and carry her into the house? Did I get spanked? Did she get to have ice cream propped up in bed, or did that happen after she had her tonsils out? Does it matter? Is it enough for me to write my own version of what I think happened and make it sound (to the reader) and feel (to me) authentic, and in the process to find meaning?

What do you think? In personal essays, is it ok to make stuff up, because where does one get all the sights and smells and dialogue that bring a past experience vividly to life? Is all forgiven if there’s a personal truth nestled among the lies and embellishments, or is there some higher standard?

What We're Writing (or not) @LucyBurdette #bookclub

 LUCY BURDETTE: Lots and lots and lots going on this month, including finishing Key West mystery #13, writing blogs to help launch A DISH TO DIE FOR, and strangest of all, going on vacation! If we've had any luck, I should be back in Scotland, perhaps even on the overnight ferry headed to Shetland. I have been reading Ann Cleeves's Black Raven to get ready for Jimmy Perez's home island. (You know I'm desperate to go because I'm willing to try to dodge the BA5 version of the coronavirus and a serious tendency to seasickness!)

What I decided to do ahead of time for today's post is show you the book discussion questions I came up with for A DISH TO DIE FOR. I know of a few book groups who've used the questions I developed for DEATH ON THE MENU and earlier books in the series, so I'm providing these hoping the same will happen for the new book...

the beach where Ziggy finds the body

1. There are a lot of real people, places, and food in this book and this series in general. Boca Chica Beach for example, where the body is found, is a real place, as is Geiger Key Marina where Hayley Snow eats and tracks down clues. How do you feel about bits of reality in your mysteries?

2. Hayley Snow meets her new father-in-law for the first time in this book, as Nathan and his father have been estranged for several years. Talk about your reactions to their relationship and their interactions over the course of this book.

3. Hayley Snow and her husband Nathan Bransford are feeling their way in their new marriage, and also in her role as amateur detective and his as professional. Does this seem believable to you?

4. The Key West woman’s club is a real place and the cookbook mentioned in the story is real as well. How did you feel about the use of the old cookbook as part of the plot? Can you think of other books that have used cookbooks as part of the story?

The Key West Woman's Club

5. The relationship between police and citizens has been fraught with difficulties and terrible events over the past several years. How did you feel about the way the police department is portrayed in this book? Does police work in Key West seem different from the work done in other cities and towns around the country?

Lucy with a few of her favorite police officers

6. One of the questions that always comes up for a mystery writer is how many books should there be in a series. A DISH TO DIE FOR is number 12. Discuss your thoughts about long running mystery series. What causes you to lose interest? What kinds of things make you want to beg the author to continue writing?

7. From Rex Stout’s famous foodie hero Nero Wolfe to Virginia Rich’s the Nantucket Diet Murders to Diane Mott Davidson’s Dying for Chocolate, and now the Key West Mysteries, what do you think explains our passion for combining cuisine and crime? Why do you choose to read culinary mysteries?

8. One of the biggest challenges when writing an amateur sleuth mystery is developing a reason for the sleuth to get involved. How did you feel about Hayley‘s stake in solving the mystery of the murdered man on the beach? How would you handle coming across such a scene?

If the discussion lags--or even if it doesn't--I recommend serving this, based on one in the Key West Woman's Club Cookbook:

Banana cream pie

One of the plot strands in this book has to do with the Woman’s Club in Key West, which is a gorgeous old home on Duval Street. I took a tour of the building this spring, and was the happy recipient of the 1988 version of their cookbook. I had also found an earlier edition of the book on eBay, that had been published in 1949. Oh my, the recipes and stories in those cookbooks had my mind racing with possibilities! This banana cream pie was served to Hayley and Martha Hubbard, while they are probing a suspect. I chose to make a graham cracker crust rather than, but any crust is fine. The recipe is based on the version in the 1988 cookbook.

Ingredients

For the crust

One package graham crackers (nine sheets)

2 tablespoons sugar

4 tablespoons butter

For the pie

2 ripe bananas

2 cups whole milk

3 eggs, room temperature, separated

4 tablespoons sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch

pinch of salt

2 teaspoons water

1 tablespoon butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the meringue

3 egg whites (see above)

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

2 teaspoons sugar

Preheat the oven to 350. 

To make the crust, smash or whirl the crackers to crumbs. Melt the butter. Stir the butter and sugar into the crumbs and press this mixture into the bottom and sides of a 10-inch pie pan. Bake for ten minutes and let that cool.

For the pudding, separate the eggs and set the whites aside. Beat the yolks until thick and smooth with the sugar, cornstarch, salt, and cold water. Heat the milk until it's about to boil, then stir it slowly into the egg mixture. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until the pudding thickens. (About five minutes.) Let that cool a bit and then mix in the vanilla and butter.

Slice the bananas into the pie crust. Spread the pudding on top of the bananas.

Beat the egg whites in a clean bowl with the cream of tartar until soft peaks appear. Continue beating while slowly adding the sugar until peaks are stiff and glossy--about 5 minutes. 

Mound the meringue onto the pudding, arranging it into peaks. 

Bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes until the meringue begins to brown. Refrigerate the pie for three hours before serving.

Lucy again: Do you belong to a book group? How do you run the discussion? Any suggestions for tweaking the questions above? (I'll be back on Tuesday to properly launch this book!)

Meanwhile, A DISH TO DIE FOR is in bookstores everywhere right now!

Lucy's Floundering in Possibilities #amwriting

 LUCY BURDETTE: I have just finished reading an advance copy of Rhys’s April book, THE VENICE SKETCHBOOK—you have such a treat ahead of you! But I mention that not to gloat, but because she’s so good at telling a story over several time periods using several points of view. I’m musing over how to do exactly that with this lump of an idea that I have. I’m at the awkward point where many directions are possible—how to choose the ones that will best tell the story? Here's what I know...

I’m pretty sure two characters, Betty and her daughter Winifred, will narrate the story. And it will take place in Paris and New Haven. I know these characters exist because they appeared in the book that is presently in my agent’s hands. But there is so much to find out about them, not to mention how to structure the book. And what kinds of bigger secrets might be involved with the Frenchman to whom both are tethered?

It’s kind of overwhelming. Thoughts, suggestions, brainstorms all most welcome! Here are the tiniest and roughest little snippets…

Betty, April

Betty was certain she had French blood in her veins. What else would explain how she’d begged her parents to let her spend half of her junior year in Paris although they had already paid full tuition to her private women’s college? Even though French was not useful in her current life other than in names of recipes, she subscribed to several 'news in French' podcasts and had a weekly standing appointment with a senior citizen in a Parisian elderhome who was happy to let her practice. 

And how else could she explain the intense but disastrous affair with a young Frenchman that had ensued in Paris, followed by the unexpected pregnancy that she’d been totally unprepared to handle? He'd been handsome and slender and so romantic, and he could cook like a dream. That part at least she knew was still true, because she'd followed his career through three restaurants, two cookbooks, a Michelin star, and three wives.   

Winifred, April

The birthday cake that birth mother, Betty, (BMB, that’s what she’d dubbed her privately) had presented on their second meeting was perfect, a light-yellow sponge, not the least bit dry, frosted with thick mocha butter cream. Happy Birthday Darling Winifred! had been piped in French chocolate across the top of the cake. And pink fondant hearts floated around the edges and drifted down the sides. It was the most beautiful and perfect homemade rendition of her favorite cake ever. 

Baked and decorated by the mother who had given her away when she was less than 24 hours old.

At first, she’d been overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement at the idea of meeting her biological mother. But by the time their second coffee date arrived, taking place in the adorable new cafe where BMB cooked and jabbered with her girlfriends, complete with the perfect cake, her anger began to prickle and then surge. How does a woman take care of her baby through nine months of pregnancy, suffer through labor and delivery, and then hand the little bundle—the size and lumpy shape of a beginner’s loaf of sourdough bread—off to a stranger? It didn't compute. 

Lucy again: That's about all I know! How do you feel about more than one point of view in a novel? Any favorite books that handled this especially well? Ideas about the mysterious Frenchman?

Breaking news: Lucy's latest, THE KEY LIME CRIME, is featured today on First Chapter Fun, the brainchild of our own Hank, plus Hannah Mary McKinnon. Join the fun today on Facebook live and Instagram live, 12:30 pm!

Lucy on Writing Police

LUCY BURDETTE: It’s a strange time to be writing murder mysteries involving police officer characters. Before I post a snippet of what I’m working on (Key West food critic #11, as yet unnamed) I wanted to say a few words about that. 

Steve Torrence on left, Chief Sean Brandenburg on right

I feel very lucky and grateful that my police model for the Key West mysteries is based on information from my friend, former police officer Steve Torrence—who happens to be one of the most ethical, thoughtful people I know. Several years ago, I attended both the Citizens' Police Academy and the Key West ambassadors’ program and learned a lot about traffic stops, the county jail, issues with homelessness, SWAT team maneuvers, police dogs, and many other topics important to policing. I came away from those experiences admiring how the Key West police department handles a very tricky town (many visitors, not all well behaved.)

As a small, older, white woman I have never had reason to fear the police. In Key West, I was only afraid one time, when I was pulled over by a police car for running a stop sign on my bicycle. I was scared because I'd been caught breaking a law, not scared for my life. (You will see that incident used in the next Key West mystery, THE KEY LIME CRIME, coming August 11.) 

My experience is a different universe than that of George Floyd and many others, particularly people of color. Should this change the way I write mysteries? I don’t know the answer. But I intend to listen as hard as I can to figure out how to be a part of the positive change that needs to happen in our country. And maybe that includes taking a hard look at how I write my police characters…

Now on with the book in progress…Right before this scene, Hayley Snow is doing some foodie research on Duval Street, when the sound of gunshots rings out.

Chapter Two 

My face ended up smooshed near the white-stenciled words on the curb above the drain that warned potential litterers “anything discarded here will wash into the ocean.” 

The gutter smelled of stale beer, and cigarette butts, and pizza, but strongest of all, the stink of my own fear. I curled into the smallest human ball possible, knowing that I could still be an open target for a crazed shooter. Should I get up and run to help Miss Gloria? Nathan had drilled the same safety information into her head as he had mine, with great patience. I had to think she’d be hunkered down behind the art gallery furniture. Or maybe she’d been smart and quick enough to run inside. 

Hearing more muffled shouts but no gunshots, I crab-walked toward the better cover of a nearby trash can. I peered around the edge to see what was going on. I heard the sound of footsteps pounding and two different voices yelling, “Drop the gun! Hands above your head! Police!”   

Then I heard the clatter of gun on pavement and saw two hands stretched high above the heads of the crowd. Tourists and bystanders had begun to push toward the scene while two fierce police yelled at them to move back. More officers came running down the street, some with guns drawn and some with police dogs loping beside them. 

“Stand back,” a tall officer shouted to the crowd. “You need to clear the area.” 

Miss Gloria came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. “I think you’re okay to come out from behind the trashcan now. The only bad guy they seem to have trapped is Ray.”  

“Ray?” I stood up and brushed the grit off my knees, realizing I had scraped them raw in the flurry of activity. Ray was my dear friend Connie’s husband, father of the adorable baby Claire, and a very talented and peace-loving artist. I could not imagine him getting into an altercation with the cops, especially over a gun.  

She took my elbow and we moved to the sidewalk, close enough that we could hear the men talking. Shouting was more like it. 

“I panicked,” Ray was explaining. “I heard gunshots and got spooked. I would never shoot anyone, I swear. My gallery manager was there--she saw everything—"  

“You’ll need to come to the station,” said the biggest cop, the same man who had pulled me over for running through a stop sign on my scooter after Christmas. He was intimidating because of his size and his bald head, but he seemed like a nice enough man. If you liked tough police personas. Which being married to one, I supposed I did. Before migrating to Key West, I didn’t know one single policeman. I’d never imagined I’d end up with so many police officers in my life. 

What do you think Reds? Should recent current events change the way we write mysteries?

And please don't forget--DEATH ON THE MENU will be out in mass market paperback on July 28, and THE KEY LIME CRIME will be published in hardcover, ebook, and audio book on August 11!

When the story becomes your own by Amanda Le Rougetel

LUCY BURDETTE: Do you ever wonder how we find and curate the posts that appear miraculously every day on this blog? Sometimes people ask us to appear, other times we just make stuff up, and sometimes we invite guests who we think will be interesting. A while back when one of our friends, Amanda, posted about a writing group she led with a pal, I asked her to write a post. I hope you find it as interesting as I did, and I know you'll welcome Amanda!

AMANDA LE ROUGETEL: Once a month, I pack an overnight bag and head across town to my friend Deborah’s for a writing retreat. We do more than ‘just’ write — we talk, we eat, and we critique each other’s work. We usually stay up too late, but the morning is rich with good coffee, and more time for writing and talking.

We are both in times of transition in our lives: Deborah is heading towards the third anniversary of her husband’s death and reinventing herself as a lone woman after a loving marriage of 40+ years. I am moving towards retirement sometime in the next five years and wanting to be a capital W writer by the time I get there. For me, this means actually writing (rather than just talking about writing!) and having people read that writing. Whether it’s on a published page or online doesn’t matter to me, but I want my writing to find readers.

Deborah and I trust each other, so our critiques pull no punches: We question word choice, push for greater clarity of thought, and suggest that beginnings, mid-points or endings might be stronger by considering X or Y. Deborah has been focusing on creative memoir, while I’ve been writing creative non-fiction on my blog Five Years a Writer.

After several months of coffee and conversation, we realized that our process was producing not only better writing but also increased clarity about our evolving identities. It seemed that, in paying attention to our writing, we were becoming sharper critics of our lives and more confident agents of personal change.

One day, we decided that we wanted to share our practice with a public audience. So we developed a 4-part workshop titled Writing as a Tool for Transformation, which we offered last fall through the community classroom at our local independent bookstore.

By happenstance, the sixteen participants were all women. By design, they were each facing a self-identified transition of some kind: widowhood, retirement, ending of a relationship, the struggle for identity within motherhood, to name a few. Each was ready to use writing as a way to gain clarity for themselves. In each session, the participants wrote to our prompts, then re-wrote, shifting the form, perspective, audience and, in the final class, even the medium — using images from magazines to encapsulate their new understanding of themselves relative to the transition they were working with.

And clarity came. One woman said she was able, for the first time, to articulate her feelings about the transition she was working with.

Don’t you think that that is exactly the power of words? Whether we write them or we read them, if we engage actively with the meaning they create for us, they open doorways through which our imagination can flow to shape new thoughts and understandings.

For me, active reading of fiction or non-fiction can spark insights into myself, because I live vicariously through the characters and story unfolding on the page, and I contemplate how I might acquit myself in similar circumstances. Would I be as fearless as V. I. Warshawski? As open-hearted as Clare Fergusson? As committed to family as Gemma James? I have never owned a horse, but as a young girl I learned not only about riding from the Jill stories, but also about how to be a self-reliant young person in a world run by adults. From the Sue Barton: Nurse stories I learned that meaningful work could transition beyond formal career to other contexts.

I’ve sorted out many a thorny issue in my life by writing it out. And I’ve come to untold better understandings of myself by engaging with the lives of characters invented by an author. Reading is a pleasure, and when that pleasure produces insight, then it’s not only rewarding but potentially life-changing.

What about you, dear Reds and JRW readers? Do you ever write your way to clarity and insight about a challenge in your life? Do characters in a book lead you to better understanding of yourself?

Amanda Le Rougetel is a lifelong reader and a non-fiction-writer-in-progress. She was introduced to the mystery genre through Mrs. Pollifax, Kinsey Millhone and V. I. Warshawski and is happy that the Reds writers have expanded her reach much more broadly into the field. That she finds herself posting to the Jungle Red Writers blog today as a guest is an enormous thrill and unexpected honor. She posts to her own blog Five Years a Writer less regularly than she would like, but is working to improve her writing routine. She earns her living as a college communication instructor in the heart of the Canadian prairies in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

The Agony of Writing

Photo by JE Theriot

LUCY BURDETTE: Since my holiday company has departed, I can turn my thoughts to the new year, wondering what I’ll write and how I’ll get it done. And get your suggestions of course.

First of all, I always have doubts! Every book. KILLER TAKEOUT will be my fifteenth published book and I still get stuck every time in the middle. Where is this book going??? What’s the point? Why is she doing this? Who will ever want to read this?

A few things help keep me sane in this situation. One is to keep writing. Apply butt to chair and write 1000 words a day. It also helps to write out a sentence or two the night before about what I will cover the next day. Another good tool is brainstorming with my writer friends. They are invariably generous, and fresh eyes can see paths out of my plot when I feel hopeless.

I also heard two wise quotes while I was at the New England Crime Bake in November that I plan to keep right beside my computer. The first from Elizabeth George:

“When your story stalls out on you, you’ve played your hand too soon.”

And Peter Abrahams/Spencer Quinn suggested when a writer gets stuck: "Think about the engine that drives the story."

How about you dear Reds? Do you ever have doubts when you are in the middle of the writing, or other non-writing projects? How do you get past them?

Photo by Anokarina

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: I have doubts ALL THE TIME. Seriously. But I just keep going. I'm  from the "chip on the shoulder" school of life, so I think of all the people who told me I couldn't do fill-in-the-blank and then say, "Yeah, screw you — I'm going to do it anyway. Watch me." I had this conversation with writer and neighbor, Alice Bradley, the author of LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES (http://alicebradley.net) . And we decided the two keys to writing are red wine and anger. We weren't really joking.


HALLIE EPHRON: I really don't want to talk about this as at this very minute I am in the pit of despond. I go into full panic mode daily. The only cure is writing. And then writing some more. And then fixing what I wrote.

photo 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Constant panic, all the time. And when I sometimes get that glimmer of...hey, this could be good! Then I freak, because maybe I am fooling myself. People say to me--how's the book going? I say--I have NO idea. And how can that be?
I think the middle is the most difficult, because it has to be riveting and fast-moving and meaningful, but it has to get seat-of-the-pants writer me to a place I don't know where is. Which is pretty funny!
I say to myself, every day: ADVANCE THE STORY. ADVANCE THE STORY.
I say: what would really happen? What would this character think? How would they feel? How would they react?
Then I say to Jonathan; I can't do this, I stink.
Then I get a good idea.
Always.
I hope.

RHYS BOWEN: What a bunch of neurotics we are! I wonder if there are any writers who just churn out book after book without worrying? Nora Roberts, maybe? Danielle Steele and her stable of secretaries? Obviously James Patterson. When I finish a book I always think Ill never have another good idea ever. Then I do... So keep believing, Hallie.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Always middle-of-the-book panic. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? No one will believe this story! And then there is always the underlying panic of "What about the next book? What can I possible write about?" Really, the only time I'm not panicked is when I'm actually writing and I'm in a scene and the characters start talking to me... Sometime around mid-book I have to stop and block out the rest of the book, or I am absolutely paralyzed. I don't know how seat-of-the-pants writers like Rhys do it. Although I guess we all have to figure out the same things, we just do it by different methods.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Pit of despond here as well. I picture me and Hallie slogging together through one of Dante's less pleasant circles of hell - maybe the one with all the cold rain and mud. I complain and complain about not having any time to write because of all the other things going on in my life, and then when I do sit down to the computer with a few hours, I think, "I have nothing to say. This book sucks. Why did I think this plotline was clever? My characters are cardboard." Etc. Etc.

My one consolation is the knowledge that every other time, I've managed to finish the manuscript and it didn't turn out too badly. Insert big-ampitheater rendition of "Don't Stop Thinkin' About Tomorrow" here...

What do you think Reds? Does this sound surprising? Familiar? Suggestions?