I'm nearing the end of my WIP. Well, when I say that, I'm 3/4 of the way through the first draft, but whenever I get to that point, my mind starts to think 20 steps ahead and is plotting out the next three stories. And one of them is really, really wanting to be told.
But...and there are several buts (no pun intended). First up after this one is the next book in the Duncan Andrews series. And then...maybe.
You see, the trouble is, this story isn't my usual thing. It's not humor, for one thing. It's pretty much a horror novel, with some romance thrown in. My question is, will it work? Will anyone care?
But of course, it may not even matter. By the time I get the next Duncan Andrews done, something else might push it's way to the front. But I don't know...it's REALLY wanting to be told...
Musing and whatnot from the author of Pale As a Ghost, Pop Goes the Weasel, etc.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
"Dying is easy. Comedy is hard."
The quote has been attributed to Shakespearean actor Edmund Keen. Others say a version of it was uttered by character actor Edmund Gwenn on his death bed. The exact wording may have come from the writers of the movie My Favorite Year, uttered on screen by the brilliant Peter O'Toole.
Whoever said it, it's true. Comedy is very subjective, and if someone doesn't see the humor, explaining the joke to them just doesn't work. It's just not funny, to them at least.
The members of Monty Python, upon finishing their movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, were sure that they had one of the biggest turkeys ever on their hands. They were used to writing a skit, working it over a bit, filming it, and then moving on. Constantly going over the same scene over and over while filming the movie, by the end they saw no humor in it any longer.
Not that I'm comparing myself to Monty Python, Edmund Keen, or anyone of that caliber, but I understand where they're coming from on this. Most of what I write is either comedy or at least has huge doses of comedy. It's funny when you think of it, funny when you first write it, maybe even slightly humorous by the time you go over it again...but after a while, you start to wonder just what the hell you thought was good about the idea in the first place.
In my last blog I expounded on my worry over waiting to hear if a story gets the green light or gets the raspberry. And I wasn't just being self-deprecating. Sometimes by the time something is ready to be sent out, I have no idea whether it's any good or not. Let the editors decide, I tell myself. That's their job. One story I was waiting to hear about was "Quarter Moon Over a Ten Cent Town," a story I sent to Dreamspinner Press for possible inclusion in their Cuddling anthology. I wasn't sure if the story was funny, or even if it fit with the theme of the anthology. I sent it out anyway. I always liked to color outside the lines.
And they bought the story! So...take that, me! You don't know what you're talking about! At least someone liked the story enough to dole out some dough for it.
Note to self: don't always listen to that inner voice. Sometimes it's a good thing to be loopy on paint fumes.
Whoever said it, it's true. Comedy is very subjective, and if someone doesn't see the humor, explaining the joke to them just doesn't work. It's just not funny, to them at least.
The members of Monty Python, upon finishing their movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, were sure that they had one of the biggest turkeys ever on their hands. They were used to writing a skit, working it over a bit, filming it, and then moving on. Constantly going over the same scene over and over while filming the movie, by the end they saw no humor in it any longer.
Not that I'm comparing myself to Monty Python, Edmund Keen, or anyone of that caliber, but I understand where they're coming from on this. Most of what I write is either comedy or at least has huge doses of comedy. It's funny when you think of it, funny when you first write it, maybe even slightly humorous by the time you go over it again...but after a while, you start to wonder just what the hell you thought was good about the idea in the first place.
In my last blog I expounded on my worry over waiting to hear if a story gets the green light or gets the raspberry. And I wasn't just being self-deprecating. Sometimes by the time something is ready to be sent out, I have no idea whether it's any good or not. Let the editors decide, I tell myself. That's their job. One story I was waiting to hear about was "Quarter Moon Over a Ten Cent Town," a story I sent to Dreamspinner Press for possible inclusion in their Cuddling anthology. I wasn't sure if the story was funny, or even if it fit with the theme of the anthology. I sent it out anyway. I always liked to color outside the lines.
And they bought the story! So...take that, me! You don't know what you're talking about! At least someone liked the story enough to dole out some dough for it.
Note to self: don't always listen to that inner voice. Sometimes it's a good thing to be loopy on paint fumes.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
The Waiting Game
Once you've sent something out, there comes the horrible, horrible waiting game.
I currently have two things out, a novel and a short story. Having 4 novels published and two books of ghost stories and legends, you'd think the waiting game wouldn't bother me. Well, that's where you're wrong! Still does. And the longer the wait, the more nervous I get.
One writer friend on Facebook said, "Why are you worried? It's the same publisher, right? They know they have an audience for you." I hope he's right, and that my tiny but faithful audience is enough to keep them publishing my stuff. But I take nothing for granted. There's always the chance that they may say, "Hmmm...this one doesn't do it for us" or "the bottom has fallen out of the market, and we need to concentrate on bigger sellers." You never know.
I have a good feeling about the novel. It's the third book in the Duncan Andrews series, and I think my writing has improved with each book. And I hope it continues to improve. Right now I'm reading a book that I'm really not enjoying. I hate to NOT finish a book, but this one is really trying me. The writing style isn't to my liking, there are some really clunky sentences, and the book needed a good editor and obviously didn't get one. For instance, twice the author used the word "lightening" when she obviously meant "lightning." I truly hate to give a book a rating lower than 3 stars because I know (oh, how I know!) how difficult it is to actually write a novel. But...this one...sigh. Several times I've almost stopped and gone on to another book. It's pretty bad. Too much detail, for one thing. If I have to read about the main character making dinner one more time, I may scream.
But maybe I was meant to read this book at this time. Seeing someone else's mistakes will hopefully make me more careful.
You write for yourself, or at least you should. If you don't like what you write, no one else probably will. The short story I have out was really an sort of experiment. I'm not even sure it fits the anthology that I submitted it for, but that's for the editor to decide. And even then, they may not like it. It is, admittedly, not the usual fare (but then, are any of my stories?). I won't be heartbroken if it doesn't get accepted. Actually, I'll be surprised and thrilled if they like it.
What's the fun of playing it safe?
I currently have two things out, a novel and a short story. Having 4 novels published and two books of ghost stories and legends, you'd think the waiting game wouldn't bother me. Well, that's where you're wrong! Still does. And the longer the wait, the more nervous I get.
One writer friend on Facebook said, "Why are you worried? It's the same publisher, right? They know they have an audience for you." I hope he's right, and that my tiny but faithful audience is enough to keep them publishing my stuff. But I take nothing for granted. There's always the chance that they may say, "Hmmm...this one doesn't do it for us" or "the bottom has fallen out of the market, and we need to concentrate on bigger sellers." You never know.
I have a good feeling about the novel. It's the third book in the Duncan Andrews series, and I think my writing has improved with each book. And I hope it continues to improve. Right now I'm reading a book that I'm really not enjoying. I hate to NOT finish a book, but this one is really trying me. The writing style isn't to my liking, there are some really clunky sentences, and the book needed a good editor and obviously didn't get one. For instance, twice the author used the word "lightening" when she obviously meant "lightning." I truly hate to give a book a rating lower than 3 stars because I know (oh, how I know!) how difficult it is to actually write a novel. But...this one...sigh. Several times I've almost stopped and gone on to another book. It's pretty bad. Too much detail, for one thing. If I have to read about the main character making dinner one more time, I may scream.
But maybe I was meant to read this book at this time. Seeing someone else's mistakes will hopefully make me more careful.
You write for yourself, or at least you should. If you don't like what you write, no one else probably will. The short story I have out was really an sort of experiment. I'm not even sure it fits the anthology that I submitted it for, but that's for the editor to decide. And even then, they may not like it. It is, admittedly, not the usual fare (but then, are any of my stories?). I won't be heartbroken if it doesn't get accepted. Actually, I'll be surprised and thrilled if they like it.
What's the fun of playing it safe?
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Memories
This morning my cousin, Debbie Cooper, passed away. She had been in the hospital for weeks, and had been in poor health for quite a while, but always she was a fighter and she overcame the odds so many times that it's hard to believe that she is no longer with us.
When someone passes, especially a family member, the memories come flooding into your brain. And I'd like to jot down a few of these. Debbie's father, my Uncle Don, passed away a short time ago. He and my dad were close, even before Don married by dad's sister, Nancy. The Coopers and the Osbornes lived in Lafayette while we were growing up, not far from each other, so we spent a lot of time with them. It's odd the things you recall at a time like this. I vividly remember picnics at the Coopers and Aunt Nancy serving us Kool-Aid in a metal pitcher. Why does that pitcher stick out in my mind? Maybe because I always believed, probably erroneously, that the metal somehow tinged the flavor of the Kook-Aid.
But mostly I remember holidays at my Grandmother's. My older brother Rob and Debbie's older sister Janet were always picking on us, as older siblings are wont to do. They cheated at Monopoly, making up the rules as they went along. No wonder Debbie and I never won! For meals, we sat at "the kids table," a card table set up in the living room. If you got up to go to the bathroom or something, inevitably you'd come back to find some mashed potatoes in your drink or something similar.
Last October the Coopers came to northern Illinois for a weekend visit. It was like old times. We even played Mousetrap, although it wasn't nearly as fun as we remembered it being. And the damn thing never worked properly. But we laughed and talked and shared stories (although, I have to admit, Rob and Janet have a lot of memories that don't seem to fit my recollection of things at all). It was a great weekend.
I think that's a memory I'll cherish. The four of us, once again, sitting at a table playing Mousetrap. Good times, good days.
Wings of angels, tears of Saints. Take care, Debbie.
When someone passes, especially a family member, the memories come flooding into your brain. And I'd like to jot down a few of these. Debbie's father, my Uncle Don, passed away a short time ago. He and my dad were close, even before Don married by dad's sister, Nancy. The Coopers and the Osbornes lived in Lafayette while we were growing up, not far from each other, so we spent a lot of time with them. It's odd the things you recall at a time like this. I vividly remember picnics at the Coopers and Aunt Nancy serving us Kool-Aid in a metal pitcher. Why does that pitcher stick out in my mind? Maybe because I always believed, probably erroneously, that the metal somehow tinged the flavor of the Kook-Aid.
But mostly I remember holidays at my Grandmother's. My older brother Rob and Debbie's older sister Janet were always picking on us, as older siblings are wont to do. They cheated at Monopoly, making up the rules as they went along. No wonder Debbie and I never won! For meals, we sat at "the kids table," a card table set up in the living room. If you got up to go to the bathroom or something, inevitably you'd come back to find some mashed potatoes in your drink or something similar.
Last October the Coopers came to northern Illinois for a weekend visit. It was like old times. We even played Mousetrap, although it wasn't nearly as fun as we remembered it being. And the damn thing never worked properly. But we laughed and talked and shared stories (although, I have to admit, Rob and Janet have a lot of memories that don't seem to fit my recollection of things at all). It was a great weekend.
I think that's a memory I'll cherish. The four of us, once again, sitting at a table playing Mousetrap. Good times, good days.
Wings of angels, tears of Saints. Take care, Debbie.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
And the winner is...
First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who entered to win a signed copy of Pale As a Ghost. For those who didn't win, I hope you still buy a copy, read it, and hopefully like it. I will probably be giving away another copy soon, so keep your eyes peeled. It was nice hearing from people who commented on my blog or on my Facebook page (those who couldn't figure out how to leave a comment! lol) and I greatly appreciate your interest. I drew a name out of the proverbial hat, and the winner is...Ellen T! I will be contacting Ellen to see if she'd like a special dedication or whatever. Ellen, if you could send me your address either via a private message on Facebook or to my email address (leftyIN@yahoo.com) I'll see that your signed copy gets out this week! Again, thanks to all who entered!
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
"Where do you get your ideas?"
Possibly the most asked question of any writer, from Stephen King and J.K. Rowling down to little ole me is "Where do you get your ideas?" Well, actually, the question I'm asked most is "Do you know how to get to Pizza Hut from here?"--second only to "Why is your nose that funny shape?"--but you get the idea. I don't know how Stephen King answers the question (and he must be asked it a billion times a week) but my answer is an unfaltering I Don't Know.
Of course, that's not really true, either. Every idea comes from life, in same way shape or form. Some thought comes from your everyday comings and goings and you twist it, turn it, set it on fire, change it, and then it becomes the germ of a story.
Take my novel Pale As a Ghost, for example. It's about a private detective in Indianapolis who has a best friend that's a centuries old witch, a bulldog named Daisy that's a zombie, and his late boyfriend is a ghost who still hangs around. And this sprang from real life. Easy to see, right?
Well, in a weird, twisted way, it did. My golden/beagle mix, Jadzia, was losing her eyesight to glaucoma. She'd recently had her right eye removed and looked a little...scary. If you didn't know her, you might run in fright. She became the template for Daisy. The rest just followed.
And at work one day a young, rather egotistical guy said to me, "You should put me in a book." He thought he was incredibly good looking and someone should take advantage of that. I told him I would, but that I'd have him nibbled to death by squirrels. And from that brief encounter came the plot to the 2nd Duncan Andrews book, Animal Instinct. And yes, the book contains a scene where someone is killed by squirrels. Take that, (name withheld because he's bigger than me)!
So that's where stories come from. Life. Just seen through very distorted lenses.
Of course, that's not really true, either. Every idea comes from life, in same way shape or form. Some thought comes from your everyday comings and goings and you twist it, turn it, set it on fire, change it, and then it becomes the germ of a story.
Take my novel Pale As a Ghost, for example. It's about a private detective in Indianapolis who has a best friend that's a centuries old witch, a bulldog named Daisy that's a zombie, and his late boyfriend is a ghost who still hangs around. And this sprang from real life. Easy to see, right?
Well, in a weird, twisted way, it did. My golden/beagle mix, Jadzia, was losing her eyesight to glaucoma. She'd recently had her right eye removed and looked a little...scary. If you didn't know her, you might run in fright. She became the template for Daisy. The rest just followed.
And at work one day a young, rather egotistical guy said to me, "You should put me in a book." He thought he was incredibly good looking and someone should take advantage of that. I told him I would, but that I'd have him nibbled to death by squirrels. And from that brief encounter came the plot to the 2nd Duncan Andrews book, Animal Instinct. And yes, the book contains a scene where someone is killed by squirrels. Take that, (name withheld because he's bigger than me)!
So that's where stories come from. Life. Just seen through very distorted lenses.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Contest time!
Would you like to win a signed copy of the 1st Duncan Andrews book, Pale As a Ghost? Well, let's pretend for a moment that you would. Just leave a comment saying something (anything) and I'll pick a name at random and that person will win. Anyone can join in. Already read the book, but have it on ebook and want a copy for your library? Comment away! Want to give one to Aunt Sally? Comment! I'll sign it however you like. You can be a friend, a fellow writer, a reader, a fan, a hater who wants to line their bird cage with it. All are welcome. Even the bird. Don't know anything about me or the book? Well, here's the blurb for the book:
Private detective Duncan Andrews’s best friend Gina is a witch. His dog is a zombie. And his dead boyfriend, Robbie, is a ghost. So it’s hardly any wonder that he uses his connection to the supernatural to help him solve cases. Good thing, too, because Duncan has his hands full. Janice Sanderson, the richest woman in Indianapolis, wants him to find her stripper daughter, Brenda, and another client is having some trouble with a specter haunting her family home. On top of that, Duncan has decided to add dating into the mix, though after Robbie’s death, he’s not sure he’s ready.
When Duncan meets Nick while tracking down a lead on Brenda’s boyfriend, he shelves his doubts and agrees to a date. Robbie doesn’t make it easy on him, showing up to spoil his chances, but that is the least of Duncan’s worries—because one of his clients’ husbands is missing and there’s a serial killer on the loose—one Duncan fears isn’t human.
I'll draw the winner on March 17th. That'll give the five people interested time to comment. Check back then to see who won!
Private detective Duncan Andrews’s best friend Gina is a witch. His dog is a zombie. And his dead boyfriend, Robbie, is a ghost. So it’s hardly any wonder that he uses his connection to the supernatural to help him solve cases. Good thing, too, because Duncan has his hands full. Janice Sanderson, the richest woman in Indianapolis, wants him to find her stripper daughter, Brenda, and another client is having some trouble with a specter haunting her family home. On top of that, Duncan has decided to add dating into the mix, though after Robbie’s death, he’s not sure he’s ready.
When Duncan meets Nick while tracking down a lead on Brenda’s boyfriend, he shelves his doubts and agrees to a date. Robbie doesn’t make it easy on him, showing up to spoil his chances, but that is the least of Duncan’s worries—because one of his clients’ husbands is missing and there’s a serial killer on the loose—one Duncan fears isn’t human.
I'll draw the winner on March 17th. That'll give the five people interested time to comment. Check back then to see who won!
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