I have repetitive stress injury issues. It's my own fault. I don't think about doing strengthening exercises for various joints until they hurt, and then you have to rest them up and let them heal before you can start the exercises.
Everything I did to avoid a repeat of my hand problems of ten years ago, now appears to be bad for my shoulder. (How does my body come up with this stuff?) At least at work it does. And whatever I do at the end of a semester (still not sure what) kills my left shoulder. I am left handed.
And yesterday seems to have put me over the edge. I really can't reach forward for more than small tasks. My elbow has to stay right next to my waist or behind until this gets better. (I get to stand, elbows thrust back, like a fashion model, though. Lots of hip posturing.)
I can do limited typing if I am in my easy chair with my laptop stand, because that keeps my elbows back closer to my body.
HOWEVER....
The thing about an RSI, is if you are resting it, you have to stop whatever you are doing INSTANTLY when it starts to get fatigued.
Which is really bad for writing.
I am ambidextrous about some things, but not writing.
Not sure what to do.
Other than read.
Luckily tonight's post about Genre and Soy Sauce was already done and will autopost tonight in about a half hour. The next day's post about N.C. Wyeth is the same.
But after having a nice session of about 1700 words today, I realize I did too much for my arm. I may have to post a different story for Story Sunday, because I want to reserve my keyboard/editing time for the W.I.P. And I don't see myself doing as much as I need to on that.
I am bummed.
Daring to live life as a full time writer, with or without success.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
On Hatchlings and Neo-Pros -- When Is A Writer "Good Enough"?
Thirty years ago, I went to the Clarion Workshop, and the first week, Algis Budrys told me that I would have no trouble making a living in this business. (Boy, was he ever wrong, but he didn't realize I was unable to stick to a genre to save my life.)
In the last week at Clarion, Damon Knight and Kate Wilhelm read my partial novel and told me in great detail how it was utter crap. It was hard to take, and I sat there, kind of shell-shocked and certain they were missing something. At some point I happened to mention that I had actually only ever written three short stories before (the third of which is what got me into Clarion). They looked at each other in surprise, and then burst out laughing. "Oh! Well that explains it! You're just out of the egg! You're doing fine. Keep going." (They did not, however, encourage me to finish or attempt to publish that novel.)
Looking back on it, I can see that all three of them were both wrong and right. Kate and Damon were holding up a mirror as to what editors see (which was a whole lot of immaturity) but they also didn't see beyond the surface immaturity and cliches to the story that was worth writing. They couldn't. I wasn't a good enough writer to tell that story yet.
But it wasn't just me. The story wasn't what you'd call a Kate and Damon kind of story. If I had been a better writer, I'm still not sure they could have seen what I was going for. They had a very different sensibility than I did. Luckily for me, someone else could: Orson Scott Card was also at that Clarion. He was the only one who saw that I was not writing science fiction humor, I was writing P.G. Wodehouse -- and for that I was not only relieved and gratified, but I have to cut him some slack for his recent obnoxiousness. He let me see that what I loved was valuable and not to be hidden.
In the meantime, there was another young author at that Clarion, named Dean Wesley Smith.
Dean has written over a hundred books, and is a very successful author with lots and lots of pen names, etc. He was already far more advanced than I was back in 1982, though he sometimes claims not. Oddly enough, his "you're just out of the egg" moment happened later -- after he had started publishing books. He told this story in the comments on his blog recently:
So to sum up:
One young writer (me) hears from four masters: one told me I was ready to make a living, another saw I had a dream worth following, and two more saw I was immature as heck. It was like the blind men and the elephant. It has been thirty freaking years putting that fractured picture together and figuring out who I am. But none of them were really wrong.
Another young writer (Dean) was already having the success so many others are desperate for, and yet it wasn't enough to be taken seriously. He didn't understand it then, but he understands it now.
Why am I telling you these stories?
First, because newbies will always have this problem of being told by somebody that they aren't yet good enough, and it can help to know that it isn't just you, and it won't be just when you're a newbie either. And, horror or horrors... you're gonna say it to some newbie too someday. You may not think you will, but you will.
And second, with the advent of Indie publishing, I meet more and more writers who are thrust into the unforgiving world of publishing without any idea of what such criticism means. So often they seem to think it means, "Give up! You're no good!" or even crazier, "You should just wait your turn, because I did!" but that's not what it means at all.
Dean's story shows that no matter where you are in the process, you aren't at the end. You can write books, and you can get them published, you can make a living...and you still haven't impressed people who are old hands. Even when you reach the point to impress them, you still don't know why. It's only later on, when you've written ten more books, that the real meaning of work and talent and "good enough" hits you. And the cool thing is that after yet another ten books, you'll know even more -- stuff you never imagined.
My story tells you that even at a single moment in time -- one immature newbie with three stories and a quarter of a novel -- there are still many different perspectives and many different meanings to the advice you get. Each person can only offer you what his or her experiences have taught, and nothing more. Plus even though what they say is true, you may not be able to understand it until you get to where they are.
And worse yet, even if the criticism is true, it still may not be helpful.
It's like the old joke about the lost helicopter:
Ba-dump-BUMP
When you are new to this business (and probably to any business) you will get a LOT of answers which are accurate, but not helpful -- at least not until later when you have enough context to do something with it. And sometimes it's not helpful even then. It's easy to get frustrated and angry at this.
If you're an indie writer, and someone tells you that 99.999 percent of all indie writing is trash, you may feel you should do the equivalent of Get A Mac (as long as we're in the Microsoft motif). You're an indie! You can just reject the reality of the person giving you this info. Indie publishing is like being a Mac user -- you get to Think Different! Big brother cannot control your computing life!
Dude, I love Macs. I am one of the original Mac Evangelistas, but even I gotta say: a Mac ain't gonna fly your helicopter, and it ain't going to write your story.
So what if that other person doesn't "get" everything you're doing -- that doesn't mean they have nothing to offer. You still gotta crawl before you walk. And you've got to learn to walk before you can run up and throw that revolutionary sledge hammer through Big Brother's control screen. (Um... am I getting a little too Mac Evangelista here? Maybe you should watch the first Macintosh Ad from 1984 and see what I mean.... Seriously, it has a nice Indie Publishing feel to it. You'll like it.)
Okay, we're back: the point is that nothing worth doing is easy. Especially not revolution.
The people who went before you, like it or not, DO know something that you need to know. They may have prejudices that make their answers accurate but not helpful, and their advice may be out of date, and you have no duty to obey them.
But the wise person listens, figures it out, and adapts. And if you can't figure it out now, you can file it away and maybe figure it out later, like Dean did.
Which brings us back at last to whether you're good enough.
Good enough for what?
That's where the "accurate but not helpful" comes in: Good enough for publication? Even in the traditional publishing world we were all encouraged to TRY before we were ready. And Dean had already published several books and was not considered good enough to be a pro by his bookseller friend.
The fact is, on some magical scale of excellence, you're not good enough. You never will be good enough, because you can always be better. So being told you're not good enough is like being told "You're in a helicopter."
Just don't shrug it off -- you may need to look past that "you're in a helicopter" sign to see the information behind it. Because that information may be what you need to get where you want to go.
See you in the funny papers.
(And for those of you who are dealing with Writer Desperation, you might read the companion post "The Times That Try Writers' Souls."
In the last week at Clarion, Damon Knight and Kate Wilhelm read my partial novel and told me in great detail how it was utter crap. It was hard to take, and I sat there, kind of shell-shocked and certain they were missing something. At some point I happened to mention that I had actually only ever written three short stories before (the third of which is what got me into Clarion). They looked at each other in surprise, and then burst out laughing. "Oh! Well that explains it! You're just out of the egg! You're doing fine. Keep going." (They did not, however, encourage me to finish or attempt to publish that novel.)
Looking back on it, I can see that all three of them were both wrong and right. Kate and Damon were holding up a mirror as to what editors see (which was a whole lot of immaturity) but they also didn't see beyond the surface immaturity and cliches to the story that was worth writing. They couldn't. I wasn't a good enough writer to tell that story yet.
But it wasn't just me. The story wasn't what you'd call a Kate and Damon kind of story. If I had been a better writer, I'm still not sure they could have seen what I was going for. They had a very different sensibility than I did. Luckily for me, someone else could: Orson Scott Card was also at that Clarion. He was the only one who saw that I was not writing science fiction humor, I was writing P.G. Wodehouse -- and for that I was not only relieved and gratified, but I have to cut him some slack for his recent obnoxiousness. He let me see that what I loved was valuable and not to be hidden.
In the meantime, there was another young author at that Clarion, named Dean Wesley Smith.
Dean has written over a hundred books, and is a very successful author with lots and lots of pen names, etc. He was already far more advanced than I was back in 1982, though he sometimes claims not. Oddly enough, his "you're just out of the egg" moment happened later -- after he had started publishing books. He told this story in the comments on his blog recently:
"I have a great friend who is a bookseller, and he called me a neo-pro for a long time. One day I asked him when I would stop being a neo-pro ... , how many novels would it take. (Honestly, my little ego was getting hurt by his attitude. I was selling books, damn it, I had a right to be called a professional writer.)
Without hesitation he said, 'Ten.' So I asked him why ten and he said 'Most writers don’t make it that far. You publish ten novels, I’ll call you a professional.'
And since I went by ten, he has ... and somewhere about twenty I started to understand what he had meant and why he had that policy."
So to sum up:
One young writer (me) hears from four masters: one told me I was ready to make a living, another saw I had a dream worth following, and two more saw I was immature as heck. It was like the blind men and the elephant. It has been thirty freaking years putting that fractured picture together and figuring out who I am. But none of them were really wrong.
Another young writer (Dean) was already having the success so many others are desperate for, and yet it wasn't enough to be taken seriously. He didn't understand it then, but he understands it now.
Why am I telling you these stories?
First, because newbies will always have this problem of being told by somebody that they aren't yet good enough, and it can help to know that it isn't just you, and it won't be just when you're a newbie either. And, horror or horrors... you're gonna say it to some newbie too someday. You may not think you will, but you will.
And second, with the advent of Indie publishing, I meet more and more writers who are thrust into the unforgiving world of publishing without any idea of what such criticism means. So often they seem to think it means, "Give up! You're no good!" or even crazier, "You should just wait your turn, because I did!" but that's not what it means at all.
Dean's story shows that no matter where you are in the process, you aren't at the end. You can write books, and you can get them published, you can make a living...and you still haven't impressed people who are old hands. Even when you reach the point to impress them, you still don't know why. It's only later on, when you've written ten more books, that the real meaning of work and talent and "good enough" hits you. And the cool thing is that after yet another ten books, you'll know even more -- stuff you never imagined.
My story tells you that even at a single moment in time -- one immature newbie with three stories and a quarter of a novel -- there are still many different perspectives and many different meanings to the advice you get. Each person can only offer you what his or her experiences have taught, and nothing more. Plus even though what they say is true, you may not be able to understand it until you get to where they are.
And worse yet, even if the criticism is true, it still may not be helpful.
It's like the old joke about the lost helicopter:
A helicopter is lost in the fog in Washington State. The GPS is out and the pilot and passenger are worried. Then a skyscraper looms out of the fog. They can see people in an office, looking out at them, so the pilot tells the passenger to write up a sign: "Where are we?"
They hold the sign up, and the people in the office scurry to get a marker and board, and they answer, "You're in a helicopter."
The passenger groans and slaps his face with his palm, but the pilot gives the office workers a thumbs up, and flies straight off to the nearest airport.
When they get to the ground the passenger looks at the pilot, and says, "How on earth did that answer tell you where we were?"
"Easy," said the pilot. "The answer they gave us was accurate but not helpful, so obviously that was the Microsoft tech support building in Redmond."
Ba-dump-BUMP
When you are new to this business (and probably to any business) you will get a LOT of answers which are accurate, but not helpful -- at least not until later when you have enough context to do something with it. And sometimes it's not helpful even then. It's easy to get frustrated and angry at this.
If you're an indie writer, and someone tells you that 99.999 percent of all indie writing is trash, you may feel you should do the equivalent of Get A Mac (as long as we're in the Microsoft motif). You're an indie! You can just reject the reality of the person giving you this info. Indie publishing is like being a Mac user -- you get to Think Different! Big brother cannot control your computing life!
Dude, I love Macs. I am one of the original Mac Evangelistas, but even I gotta say: a Mac ain't gonna fly your helicopter, and it ain't going to write your story.
So what if that other person doesn't "get" everything you're doing -- that doesn't mean they have nothing to offer. You still gotta crawl before you walk. And you've got to learn to walk before you can run up and throw that revolutionary sledge hammer through Big Brother's control screen. (Um... am I getting a little too Mac Evangelista here? Maybe you should watch the first Macintosh Ad from 1984 and see what I mean.... Seriously, it has a nice Indie Publishing feel to it. You'll like it.)
Okay, we're back: the point is that nothing worth doing is easy. Especially not revolution.
The people who went before you, like it or not, DO know something that you need to know. They may have prejudices that make their answers accurate but not helpful, and their advice may be out of date, and you have no duty to obey them.
But the wise person listens, figures it out, and adapts. And if you can't figure it out now, you can file it away and maybe figure it out later, like Dean did.
Which brings us back at last to whether you're good enough.
Good enough for what?
That's where the "accurate but not helpful" comes in: Good enough for publication? Even in the traditional publishing world we were all encouraged to TRY before we were ready. And Dean had already published several books and was not considered good enough to be a pro by his bookseller friend.
The fact is, on some magical scale of excellence, you're not good enough. You never will be good enough, because you can always be better. So being told you're not good enough is like being told "You're in a helicopter."
Just don't shrug it off -- you may need to look past that "you're in a helicopter" sign to see the information behind it. Because that information may be what you need to get where you want to go.
See you in the funny papers.
(And for those of you who are dealing with Writer Desperation, you might read the companion post "The Times That Try Writers' Souls."
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Character Wednesday: J. Carson Black
There's nothing like a good antagonist to perk a whole story up. Sometimes it's a villain, sometimes just the opposing force -- but evil or not, the antagonist is the one who raises the challenge for the hero. An intelligent, experienced and even ethical bad guy can raise the standard for the hero's behavior as well.
Today, J. Carson Black, otherwise known as Maggy, is going to tell us about Cyril Landry, a complex and interesting hit man from her crime thriller, The Shop.
Camille: What made you create Landry?
Maggy: Since I started The Shop with a contracted hit on an actress and her entourage in Aspen, Colorado, I needed a professional killer to lead the team -- someone who would give instructions and they would follow them.
I had to plunge right in, and the first person the reader meets is that killer, Cyril Landry. Little did I know that he would be one of the most important characters I’ve ever written, and that he would eventually gain the trust of my main character, sheriff’s detective Jolie Burke.
Camille: That sounds promising. What was it that made him so important to you?
Maggy: First, I sure as heck didn’t know that when Landry killed the actress, Brienne Cross, it would change his life forever. In the moment before he kills her, she awakens, and there is a communion between them that drives him to find out why he had to kill her.
Then his personality took over. For instance, he was an assassin, but he was married and had a daughter. Further, he acquitted himself admirably as a Navy SEAL in Iraq and Afghanistan. He prided himself on clear thinking, on good grammar and good manners. He's a professional and has been taught to kill quickly and mercifully. He did it for his government and now he does it to support his family--it's a job. And, most important to me, Landry shared my love for horse racing. In fact, he grew up in the business---it’s important, even for a bad guy, that he LOVE something, feel a passion for something.
Camille: Do you have more planned for this character?
Maggy: I left it up in the air whether or not he survived in my thriller, The Shop, but I’m pretty sure he did, because I just put him in a short story called "The Bluelight Special." I guess he made my mind up for me.
J. Carson Black writes write crime fiction thrillers, including the Laura Cardinal series. Her new thriller, THE SHOP, spotlights corruption in the highest levels of government, pitting a small-town Florida sheriff’s detective against a cunning, powerful foe. New York Times Bestselling author Gayle Lynds says of THE SHOP is “an exciting, sweeping crime thriller that will linger in your mind for a long time.” And New York Times Bestselling author David Morrell says, “THE SHOP is a thriller to pay attention to.”
THE SHOP is on sale for a limited time for 99 cents.
Today, J. Carson Black, otherwise known as Maggy, is going to tell us about Cyril Landry, a complex and interesting hit man from her crime thriller, The Shop.Camille: What made you create Landry?
Maggy: Since I started The Shop with a contracted hit on an actress and her entourage in Aspen, Colorado, I needed a professional killer to lead the team -- someone who would give instructions and they would follow them.
I had to plunge right in, and the first person the reader meets is that killer, Cyril Landry. Little did I know that he would be one of the most important characters I’ve ever written, and that he would eventually gain the trust of my main character, sheriff’s detective Jolie Burke.
Camille: That sounds promising. What was it that made him so important to you?
Maggy: First, I sure as heck didn’t know that when Landry killed the actress, Brienne Cross, it would change his life forever. In the moment before he kills her, she awakens, and there is a communion between them that drives him to find out why he had to kill her.
Then his personality took over. For instance, he was an assassin, but he was married and had a daughter. Further, he acquitted himself admirably as a Navy SEAL in Iraq and Afghanistan. He prided himself on clear thinking, on good grammar and good manners. He's a professional and has been taught to kill quickly and mercifully. He did it for his government and now he does it to support his family--it's a job. And, most important to me, Landry shared my love for horse racing. In fact, he grew up in the business---it’s important, even for a bad guy, that he LOVE something, feel a passion for something.
Camille: Do you have more planned for this character?
Maggy: I left it up in the air whether or not he survived in my thriller, The Shop, but I’m pretty sure he did, because I just put him in a short story called "The Bluelight Special." I guess he made my mind up for me.
J. Carson Black writes write crime fiction thrillers, including the Laura Cardinal series. Her new thriller, THE SHOP, spotlights corruption in the highest levels of government, pitting a small-town Florida sheriff’s detective against a cunning, powerful foe. New York Times Bestselling author Gayle Lynds says of THE SHOP is “an exciting, sweeping crime thriller that will linger in your mind for a long time.” And New York Times Bestselling author David Morrell says, “THE SHOP is a thriller to pay attention to.”
THE SHOP is on sale for a limited time for 99 cents.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Tuesday Update and Preview
I think I still need another day or so for clearing the decks. The semester was busier than I thought, and it also dragged out longer. (Though it ended last week, we had the end of semester party...oh, and the planning for summer... oh, and the Board of Trustees meeting... oh and....)
And I have stacks of life stuff around me, and I would like to get to my "to be read" pile a little bit too. Still, I did manage to submit a story to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine this week.
So tonight and tomorrow are semi-day-off. I will be prepping some blog business, and I think folks will like some of the things I have lined up.
See you in the funny papers!
And I have stacks of life stuff around me, and I would like to get to my "to be read" pile a little bit too. Still, I did manage to submit a story to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine this week.
So tonight and tomorrow are semi-day-off. I will be prepping some blog business, and I think folks will like some of the things I have lined up.
- Wednesday: J. Carson Black talks about a helpful hitman in her secondary character interview.
- Thursday: On Hatchlings and Neo-Pros -- When Is A Writer "Good Enough"?
- Friday: A little discussion of Genre and Soy Sauce (What shelf does your book belong on? And is that answer as simple as you think?)
- Saturday: A new weekly feature (at least for summer) - Artwork and Illustration. I'll be talking about one of the great illustrators of all time, N.C. Wyeth.
- Sunday: We'll have another fable for writers -- this time about baking pies. (And Monday's story notes will explain why that is relevant.)
See you in the funny papers!
Story Notes: "Vote Early, Vote Often"
(This is about the flash story posted yesterday, "Vote Early, Vote Often." It includes spoilers. You may want to go back and read the story. It's short.)
This is another story I wrote in hopes of breaking in to Woman's World. Before they went to the current "you solve it" type puzzles, they used to print one 1000 word mystery every week. They liked things to be fluffy and upbeat, and the emphasis on the puzzle or problem. I never found a good place to submit some of the stories they rejected. Most mystery magazines want heavier irony, and other magazines wanted more drama.
Lily and Grace did not start with this story. They started with another story I have not finished, titled "The Perfect Hostess." In it, they are much less correct than they are here. They have to deal with an unwanted body, and since there is no one enforcing the rules, well, they don't follow them. But that story needs work. (And thanks to Elizabeth's comment yesterday, maybe even a little rethinking.)
But back to this story:
Lily and Grace are kind of fluffy, with their Chip and Dale sort of relationship, so even though they are more suited to getting into macabre trouble, it seemed like I ought to try a Woman's World story on them. The Florida recounts were going on right around this time, and so vote recount stories were on my mind. (I have a number of ironic ideas, but frankly the concept has just become less and less funny over time.)
This story is based on an old con game: One way to cheat an election is to stuff the ballot box, but that is risky because you don't know how many votes will be cast for each side, so you don't know how many to stuff. However, if you have a way to just fake the whole count -- replace all ballots with whatever results you want -- you must put at least one vote for the other side in the box, because anybody who voted for the other side will know it's a fake if their vote clearly isn't there. Several votes is a better idea, because then if people get together and talk they need to be able to believe both/all their votes were counted.
And that's where the villaness, Irene, was hoist by her own cleverness. She knew that the other ladies would abide by the rules and not discuss the vote, but that Lily and Grace might talk to each other, so she had to put in at least two votes for Lily.
But she also wanted to send a clear message to all that SHE was the one the other ladies preferred, hands down. Note that the lady who consoled Lily believed that all the other ladies had voted against her -- Irene has been cultivating that belief. She wanted to quash any competition, and make any ladies who voted against her feel alone and ashamed -- so she only put in the two.
That whole attitude was her downfall, really. When you force fake loyalty, you only HAVE fake loyalty, and so in the end, nobody had voted for her. So I guess you could say that this story, covertly, is about Irene.
In the meantime, I do have other election and politics ideas. The one that most interests me would be a Mick and Casey story.
I've read about how, during the settling of the west, towns would go to battle over who got to be the county seat. Supposedly, there were even times when one town would raid another and steal the public records so they could make the claim that they were already the seat of politics for the area.
Unfortunately I have not been able to find citations for these incidents, so I can't find more details on it. It just seems to me that this is exactly the sort of job Mick and Casey would be recruited to take part in -- either guarding or stealing the records. And since Mick and Casey are always in the process of inventing their ethical standards, this would be a great conundrum for them to figure out what side they should be on.
But for now I need to get on with the work-in-progress. I'll be back tomorrow with an update on that, and a posting schedule for the week.
This is another story I wrote in hopes of breaking in to Woman's World. Before they went to the current "you solve it" type puzzles, they used to print one 1000 word mystery every week. They liked things to be fluffy and upbeat, and the emphasis on the puzzle or problem. I never found a good place to submit some of the stories they rejected. Most mystery magazines want heavier irony, and other magazines wanted more drama.
Lily and Grace did not start with this story. They started with another story I have not finished, titled "The Perfect Hostess." In it, they are much less correct than they are here. They have to deal with an unwanted body, and since there is no one enforcing the rules, well, they don't follow them. But that story needs work. (And thanks to Elizabeth's comment yesterday, maybe even a little rethinking.)
But back to this story:
Lily and Grace are kind of fluffy, with their Chip and Dale sort of relationship, so even though they are more suited to getting into macabre trouble, it seemed like I ought to try a Woman's World story on them. The Florida recounts were going on right around this time, and so vote recount stories were on my mind. (I have a number of ironic ideas, but frankly the concept has just become less and less funny over time.)
This story is based on an old con game: One way to cheat an election is to stuff the ballot box, but that is risky because you don't know how many votes will be cast for each side, so you don't know how many to stuff. However, if you have a way to just fake the whole count -- replace all ballots with whatever results you want -- you must put at least one vote for the other side in the box, because anybody who voted for the other side will know it's a fake if their vote clearly isn't there. Several votes is a better idea, because then if people get together and talk they need to be able to believe both/all their votes were counted.
And that's where the villaness, Irene, was hoist by her own cleverness. She knew that the other ladies would abide by the rules and not discuss the vote, but that Lily and Grace might talk to each other, so she had to put in at least two votes for Lily.
But she also wanted to send a clear message to all that SHE was the one the other ladies preferred, hands down. Note that the lady who consoled Lily believed that all the other ladies had voted against her -- Irene has been cultivating that belief. She wanted to quash any competition, and make any ladies who voted against her feel alone and ashamed -- so she only put in the two.
That whole attitude was her downfall, really. When you force fake loyalty, you only HAVE fake loyalty, and so in the end, nobody had voted for her. So I guess you could say that this story, covertly, is about Irene.
In the meantime, I do have other election and politics ideas. The one that most interests me would be a Mick and Casey story.
I've read about how, during the settling of the west, towns would go to battle over who got to be the county seat. Supposedly, there were even times when one town would raid another and steal the public records so they could make the claim that they were already the seat of politics for the area.
Unfortunately I have not been able to find citations for these incidents, so I can't find more details on it. It just seems to me that this is exactly the sort of job Mick and Casey would be recruited to take part in -- either guarding or stealing the records. And since Mick and Casey are always in the process of inventing their ethical standards, this would be a great conundrum for them to figure out what side they should be on.
But for now I need to get on with the work-in-progress. I'll be back tomorrow with an update on that, and a posting schedule for the week.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Vote Early, Vote Often - a bit of flash fiction
For the Sunday Story this week, I give you a little flash story about Lily and Grace, a pair of continuing characters who usually get themselves into trouble. But this time, they have justice in mind....
VOTE EARLY, VOTE OFTEN
by Camille LaGuire
Lily sat next to her best friend, Grace, and watched the other ladies of the Silverton Ladies Hostess Club munch the appetizers, and whisper among themselves.
"They've eaten all the crab puffs," whispered Grace. "And the curry triangles. They're certainly going to vote for you."
"I don't know," said Lily, biting her lip. She so wanted to be elected to host the winter party, but she was new to the club. Her only friend was Grace, who was only a member because Lily was. Grace was not a cook, although she assisted wonderfully on decorations.
The club president, Irene Tackert, rang the silver bell and called everyone to order in the meeting room next to the reception hall. The fourteen members filed in. Lily hung back, but Grace pushed her along after, and they took seats at the end of the table.
"Time to vote for hostess of our winter party, ladies," said Irene holding up a cloth bag and a small box. She handed the box to the woman to her right. "As most of you know, there are fourteen blue and fourteen silver marbles in the box. Take one of each color, and hold it up to show you don't cheat!"
"Cheat?" harrumphed Grace, under her breath. "She's one of the contestants, and she's running the vote!"
Lily kicked her under the table, then smiled and chose her marbles and held them up. Grace grumpily did the same.
"Now," said Irene, as the last woman put the box on the side table, "before we actually vote, I'd like to congratulate our new member, Lily Allen, for being nominated in her very first year of membership! It must be quite an honor for her to run against me!" Somehow the smile on Irene's face did not look genuine. She held up the bag. "If you vote for me, put the silver marble in the bag. The blue marbles are for Lily. Remember, this is a secret vote, so don't let anyone see which marble you drop in the bag."
She went around the room, and one at a time the ladies put the marbles into the bag. When Irene came to Lily she smirked again.
"And it's all right to vote for yourself, dear," she said.
"Of course," said Grace. "One should always vote for the best!"
Lily kicked her under the table again, and they placed their marbles in the bag. Irene moved on to gather the rest of the votes, and Lily leaned close to Grace.
"Don't antagonize her. I don't have a chance anyway."
"I don't like the way she smirks. It's like she knows who is going to win."
"She does know, because she knows all the other ladies like her."
"They liked your curry triangles."
It was true. The ladies had eaten every one of the fried treats, and they'd gobbled the crab puffs too. Lily allowed herself a moment of hope. But now the voting was done, and Irene poured the contents of the bag out into a plate where all could see.
A dozen silver marbles glimmered on the plate. Only two blue marbles rolled among them. Lily took a breath and held her disappointment. Only she and Grace. Not one other person voted for her. Not one.
"Well," she said. "I told you."
The entire room was quiet, as the other ladies seemed to sense her disappointment. One of them stopped and patted Lily on the arm.
"Well, you know, you're new," she said. "You'll have a better chance next year, when the rest of them are used to you."
"Yes, you'll do better, I'm sure," said another. "You have honor, and that counts for a lot here. You really could have voted for yourself, you know."
"Thank you," said Lily, and she got up to follow the other women to the side table and drop off the unused marbles. Grace jumped up and hurried after her.
"She acted like she thought you voted for Irene," said Grace. "Why would she think that?"
"I don't know...."
"I'll tell you why! Because she voted for you. Everybody knew I voted for you, and there were only two blue marbles, so she assumed you didn't vote for yourself."
"But I did vote for me, so she couldn't have."
"Unless Irene cheated."
"How?"
"She switched the bags," said Grace, and she pushed past to catch the woman. "Excuse me. Did you vote for Lily?"
"I can't say," said the woman. "It's against the rules."
"The votes are private," said Irene sharply.
"Well, we'll tell you who we voted for," said Grace.
"No!" said a chorus of ladies. Then one explained: "If anyone tells, that puts pressure on everyone to tell, and then it will never be a private vote, and then it will no longer be a fair vote."
"It wasn't a fair vote!" said Grace. "I'll tell you...."
Oh dear, thought Lily. Grace will get us kicked out of the club. She cast about desperately, and he eyes fell on the box where the marbles were kept.
"I know!" said Lily. "We won't tell! We'll stick to our sacred honor."
"But Lily...."
"Now listen Grace. It really isn't necessary. We can prove whether the vote was fair without anyone telling who they voted for."
"How?"
"By un-counting them!" Lily pointed to the box. "Everyone put their non-votes into that box. It should be exactly the opposite of the vote--twelve blue marbles and two silver ones."
"We can't do that!" said Irene.
"Why not? It's the same as counting the votes in the first place."
Grace picked up the box and dumped its contents onto the table. There were thirteen silver marbles and only one blue.
"You see?" crowed Grace. "I told you they liked the curry! Everyone voted for you but her!"
Tomorrow I'll tell you a little about the writing of this story.
In the meantime, if you would like to see more of my short mystery fiction (most of it longer, some of it much darker), you can check out my short ebook: Waiter, There's A Clue In My Soup! Five Mystery Stories.
It's available at most online retailers for 99 cents: Amazon's Kindle, Kindle UK, and Smashwords as well as the Apple iBookstore, Barnes and Noble's Nook store, Sony, Kobo and Diesel.
===============
VOTE EARLY, VOTE OFTENby Camille LaGuire
Lily sat next to her best friend, Grace, and watched the other ladies of the Silverton Ladies Hostess Club munch the appetizers, and whisper among themselves.
"They've eaten all the crab puffs," whispered Grace. "And the curry triangles. They're certainly going to vote for you."
"I don't know," said Lily, biting her lip. She so wanted to be elected to host the winter party, but she was new to the club. Her only friend was Grace, who was only a member because Lily was. Grace was not a cook, although she assisted wonderfully on decorations.
The club president, Irene Tackert, rang the silver bell and called everyone to order in the meeting room next to the reception hall. The fourteen members filed in. Lily hung back, but Grace pushed her along after, and they took seats at the end of the table.
"Time to vote for hostess of our winter party, ladies," said Irene holding up a cloth bag and a small box. She handed the box to the woman to her right. "As most of you know, there are fourteen blue and fourteen silver marbles in the box. Take one of each color, and hold it up to show you don't cheat!"
"Cheat?" harrumphed Grace, under her breath. "She's one of the contestants, and she's running the vote!"
Lily kicked her under the table, then smiled and chose her marbles and held them up. Grace grumpily did the same.
"Now," said Irene, as the last woman put the box on the side table, "before we actually vote, I'd like to congratulate our new member, Lily Allen, for being nominated in her very first year of membership! It must be quite an honor for her to run against me!" Somehow the smile on Irene's face did not look genuine. She held up the bag. "If you vote for me, put the silver marble in the bag. The blue marbles are for Lily. Remember, this is a secret vote, so don't let anyone see which marble you drop in the bag."
She went around the room, and one at a time the ladies put the marbles into the bag. When Irene came to Lily she smirked again.
"And it's all right to vote for yourself, dear," she said.
"Of course," said Grace. "One should always vote for the best!"
Lily kicked her under the table again, and they placed their marbles in the bag. Irene moved on to gather the rest of the votes, and Lily leaned close to Grace.
"Don't antagonize her. I don't have a chance anyway."
"I don't like the way she smirks. It's like she knows who is going to win."
"She does know, because she knows all the other ladies like her."
"They liked your curry triangles."
It was true. The ladies had eaten every one of the fried treats, and they'd gobbled the crab puffs too. Lily allowed herself a moment of hope. But now the voting was done, and Irene poured the contents of the bag out into a plate where all could see.
A dozen silver marbles glimmered on the plate. Only two blue marbles rolled among them. Lily took a breath and held her disappointment. Only she and Grace. Not one other person voted for her. Not one.
"Well," she said. "I told you."
The entire room was quiet, as the other ladies seemed to sense her disappointment. One of them stopped and patted Lily on the arm.
"Well, you know, you're new," she said. "You'll have a better chance next year, when the rest of them are used to you."
"Yes, you'll do better, I'm sure," said another. "You have honor, and that counts for a lot here. You really could have voted for yourself, you know."
"Thank you," said Lily, and she got up to follow the other women to the side table and drop off the unused marbles. Grace jumped up and hurried after her.
"She acted like she thought you voted for Irene," said Grace. "Why would she think that?"
"I don't know...."
"I'll tell you why! Because she voted for you. Everybody knew I voted for you, and there were only two blue marbles, so she assumed you didn't vote for yourself."
"But I did vote for me, so she couldn't have."
"Unless Irene cheated."
"How?"
"She switched the bags," said Grace, and she pushed past to catch the woman. "Excuse me. Did you vote for Lily?"
"I can't say," said the woman. "It's against the rules."
"The votes are private," said Irene sharply.
"Well, we'll tell you who we voted for," said Grace.
"No!" said a chorus of ladies. Then one explained: "If anyone tells, that puts pressure on everyone to tell, and then it will never be a private vote, and then it will no longer be a fair vote."
"It wasn't a fair vote!" said Grace. "I'll tell you...."
Oh dear, thought Lily. Grace will get us kicked out of the club. She cast about desperately, and he eyes fell on the box where the marbles were kept.
"I know!" said Lily. "We won't tell! We'll stick to our sacred honor."
"But Lily...."
"Now listen Grace. It really isn't necessary. We can prove whether the vote was fair without anyone telling who they voted for."
"How?"
"By un-counting them!" Lily pointed to the box. "Everyone put their non-votes into that box. It should be exactly the opposite of the vote--twelve blue marbles and two silver ones."
"We can't do that!" said Irene.
"Why not? It's the same as counting the votes in the first place."
Grace picked up the box and dumped its contents onto the table. There were thirteen silver marbles and only one blue.
"You see?" crowed Grace. "I told you they liked the curry! Everyone voted for you but her!"
===========
Tomorrow I'll tell you a little about the writing of this story.
In the meantime, if you would like to see more of my short mystery fiction (most of it longer, some of it much darker), you can check out my short ebook: Waiter, There's A Clue In My Soup! Five Mystery Stories.
It's available at most online retailers for 99 cents: Amazon's Kindle, Kindle UK, and Smashwords as well as the Apple iBookstore, Barnes and Noble's Nook store, Sony, Kobo and Diesel.
Back to Blogging: Deciding Which Story To Do What With
The semester is finally at an end. Our students had their Portfolio Day. Some very nice work, but I forgot to get business cards. And I am not as refreshed as I'd hoped, but I will have more free time for a couple of weeks. I think.
In the meantime, here I am looking for a story to put up for Story Sunday, and by golly I'm not sure what to publish. I do have a bunch of stories and excerpts I could publish, but I also have a bunch of other things to do with some of those stories.
For instance, since you can't submit a story which has already been published to a magazine, I have a few stories I'd like to reserve for a while yet. But I have already started that process:
Today I had a story on Karen Berner's fiction blog for her Flash Friday. "Learned in the Cradle" is another little fable, less than 500 words. She does a lot of flash fiction on her site, her own and others, so give it a look.
Some of the other stories I've got are really too long for a blog. I've got to decide how I want to handle those. Heck, I've got to decide what my actual limits are for length here.
As for the remaining stories, some aren't really finished, or I just don't like them.
But some I have other uses in mind, and that's where we see the lesson of this little exercise:
I have some good stories which are suitable for particular events and holidays. For instance, I've got a great hard-boiled comic Christmas story, and a children's story for New Years. And I had one story which was a fluffy little thing I wrote for Women's Day called "Vote Early, Vote Often." I thought I should save that for Election Day.
But it seemed like the best option among what I have ready at the moment. And I thought, okay, I could stall a little by putting up an excerpt of the W.I.P., and then make myself whip up another batch of stories. Except, of course, I need to be working on my W.I.P. ....
But then the lesson hit me.
"Vote Early, Vote Often" is only lightly Election Day-ish. Maybe, if I'm going to just whip up a story, I should be whipping up a story specifically FOR Election Day. Maybe several stories. Magazines and webzines and fiction blogs will be looking for seasonal material too. I need to keep going and write something more, something better for the purpose.
This is how you've got to think, as a writer. Empty your stores and refill anew.
So tomorrow you will meet Lily and Grace, two little old ladies who tend to get themselves into questionable situations. This time, though, they are entirely in the right, as they take on a corrupt system in the form of the Ladies Hospitality Club Hostess of the Year Election.
In the meantime, here I am looking for a story to put up for Story Sunday, and by golly I'm not sure what to publish. I do have a bunch of stories and excerpts I could publish, but I also have a bunch of other things to do with some of those stories.
For instance, since you can't submit a story which has already been published to a magazine, I have a few stories I'd like to reserve for a while yet. But I have already started that process:
Today I had a story on Karen Berner's fiction blog for her Flash Friday. "Learned in the Cradle" is another little fable, less than 500 words. She does a lot of flash fiction on her site, her own and others, so give it a look.
Some of the other stories I've got are really too long for a blog. I've got to decide how I want to handle those. Heck, I've got to decide what my actual limits are for length here.
As for the remaining stories, some aren't really finished, or I just don't like them.
But some I have other uses in mind, and that's where we see the lesson of this little exercise:
I have some good stories which are suitable for particular events and holidays. For instance, I've got a great hard-boiled comic Christmas story, and a children's story for New Years. And I had one story which was a fluffy little thing I wrote for Women's Day called "Vote Early, Vote Often." I thought I should save that for Election Day.
But it seemed like the best option among what I have ready at the moment. And I thought, okay, I could stall a little by putting up an excerpt of the W.I.P., and then make myself whip up another batch of stories. Except, of course, I need to be working on my W.I.P. ....
But then the lesson hit me.
"Vote Early, Vote Often" is only lightly Election Day-ish. Maybe, if I'm going to just whip up a story, I should be whipping up a story specifically FOR Election Day. Maybe several stories. Magazines and webzines and fiction blogs will be looking for seasonal material too. I need to keep going and write something more, something better for the purpose.
This is how you've got to think, as a writer. Empty your stores and refill anew.
So tomorrow you will meet Lily and Grace, two little old ladies who tend to get themselves into questionable situations. This time, though, they are entirely in the right, as they take on a corrupt system in the form of the Ladies Hospitality Club Hostess of the Year Election.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch is FREE too!
And now Amazon has decided to make The Curse of Scattershale Gulch free, too. They don't say for how long, so if you've been thinking about it, get it while it's hot. (Or, well, get it while it's free, anyway.)It's too bad they did this late, as Wednesday's download frenzy is over, and nobody's looking to see if there are new books. But better late than never.
Find it free at Amazon's Kindle Store, Kindle UK and at Smashwords and their partner stores (including B&N, should be available soon at the Apple iBookstore, Kobo, Sony and others).
I'll be back to posting regularly tonight -- with an update and schedule of upcoming posts.
See ya in the funny papers.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Bellhound - At Last FREE on Amazon this week!
Amazon has just announced to a number of indie authors that they are putting their books on sale for free this week. My fantasy short story collection, The Bellhound, Four Tales of Modern Magic, was chosen, and I couldn't be more delighted.(Well, I could be... since I don't currently have any other books out there that really fit in the same genre, I kinda wish they had chosen Scattershale Gulch or Waiter, There's a Clue in My Soup! -- both of which would have been great for my mystery novels. But we takes what we gets.)
The first story, "The Bellhound," is a tie in to a book I hope to publish at the end of summer. One of the secondary characters -- Sgt. Jasper Wardell -- is one of the main characters in my fantasy book Moon Child: Ready Or Not, a book which explains how he got to know the kind of things and people he knows. (The short story takes place after the novel.)
NOTE: I'm writing this before the price has actually gone live, but by the time you see this, the price should be set.
In the meantime, it's the last week of the semester, and I'm swamped, but I will have a little time to prep on Thursday, so I hope to relaunch my posting shedule on Saturday. And, of course, get the darn novel finished.
I'll see you soon!
Monday, May 9, 2011
A Call for Beta Readers
When you're almost done with a book, it's MUCH harder to put it aside if you know somebody is waiting for it.
So... I am trolling for a few pre-readers for The Man Who Did Too Much. I'm interested in writers or readers. I'm not looking for extensive feedback or hard work. (Not turning it down either.) If you want to know more about the book (and to download the first few chapters to see what you're getting yourself in for) you can visit The Man Who Did Too Much Info Page.
I hope to have this finished and ready for readers by the middle of June. People who like to read in chunks, or who have time now can read sections are they are ready now.
What I'm looking for:
*"Reader response" is most treasured kind of response at this point. You don't have to explain, analyze or critique (although those are welcome), you can just say "the ending was a let down" or "the part about the dog was my favorite bit" or "I hated the girlfriend to the point it made me hate everyone who didn't kill her."
*Feedback on cover or blurb -- you don't even have to respond to the story itself at all. It's great to just have people who have read the thing tell me whether the cover or blurb match the story, or if I'm playing up the right elements.
*Any other kind of response, at any level, is welcome. A quick read and a sentence on the one thing you hated/liked most, or a meticulous detailed critique of all 400,000 mistakes you found are both fine. Same with thoughts on marketing or genre.
*A variety of perspectives. I need to hear from people who read a lot of mysteries, but I also want to hear from people who never read mysteries, or are really into other genres (such as romance).
*If you won't have time to read the whole thing in June or July, I would also like to hear from people willing to read a chapter or so. (The first 30k -- approx 100 pages -- is ready now.) I expect the whole thing to be in the 80-90k range when it's done.
What I can give in return:
For readers:
*If you're just a reader and don't want me to critique a manuscript in return, I will give you an autographed copy of the print version when I release the book in the fall. (I may put a limit on the number after a certain number of responses, and I do request that if you want a book, you give me at least a page or so of feedback. It can be dishonest and lavish praise. I'd rather have honesty, but hey, I'm human.) I can also include a Smashwords coupon for a free ebook version too.
For writers:
Something equivalent in effort to what you give me -- here are the things I'm good at.
*Not proofreading. I'm slightly dyslexic. You really don't want me as your proofer anyway.
*Story analysis -- I used to be a freelance story analyst for scripts. I'll do a modified coverage report for you -- a quick synopsis, and a paragraph or so on Characters, Plot, Originality, Writing, Cinematic/Genre Qualities, and either a category of your choice or just a "additional notes" category.
*Reader reaction -- I can take my analyst/teacher hat off and just read and tell you whether I liked the bit about the dog and hated the girlfriend, and if I think it's too long or too short.
*Deep reader reaction -- If I have time I might be willing to do a more beat-by-beat reader reaction in return for the same. This is where I put notes in the story that says what I'm thinking as I read. "No! No! Don't go into the basement alone!" "Yeah, right. Shoot yourself in the foot while you're at it." "I bet that's a clue." "It IS a clue!" "Oh wait, it's a red herring." And the dreaded, "Yawn" or "I hope you're not going where I think you're going."
Note that I will not have time to start reading for others until June, and I'm not the fastest reader.
I'll post another request when the book is finished, but in the meantime, you can surreptitiously check out the first five chapters and see what you're getting into on the download page.
So... I am trolling for a few pre-readers for The Man Who Did Too Much. I'm interested in writers or readers. I'm not looking for extensive feedback or hard work. (Not turning it down either.) If you want to know more about the book (and to download the first few chapters to see what you're getting yourself in for) you can visit The Man Who Did Too Much Info Page.
I hope to have this finished and ready for readers by the middle of June. People who like to read in chunks, or who have time now can read sections are they are ready now.
What I'm looking for:
*"Reader response" is most treasured kind of response at this point. You don't have to explain, analyze or critique (although those are welcome), you can just say "the ending was a let down" or "the part about the dog was my favorite bit" or "I hated the girlfriend to the point it made me hate everyone who didn't kill her."
*Feedback on cover or blurb -- you don't even have to respond to the story itself at all. It's great to just have people who have read the thing tell me whether the cover or blurb match the story, or if I'm playing up the right elements.
*Any other kind of response, at any level, is welcome. A quick read and a sentence on the one thing you hated/liked most, or a meticulous detailed critique of all 400,000 mistakes you found are both fine. Same with thoughts on marketing or genre.
*A variety of perspectives. I need to hear from people who read a lot of mysteries, but I also want to hear from people who never read mysteries, or are really into other genres (such as romance).
*If you won't have time to read the whole thing in June or July, I would also like to hear from people willing to read a chapter or so. (The first 30k -- approx 100 pages -- is ready now.) I expect the whole thing to be in the 80-90k range when it's done.
What I can give in return:
For readers:
*If you're just a reader and don't want me to critique a manuscript in return, I will give you an autographed copy of the print version when I release the book in the fall. (I may put a limit on the number after a certain number of responses, and I do request that if you want a book, you give me at least a page or so of feedback. It can be dishonest and lavish praise. I'd rather have honesty, but hey, I'm human.) I can also include a Smashwords coupon for a free ebook version too.
For writers:
Something equivalent in effort to what you give me -- here are the things I'm good at.
*Not proofreading. I'm slightly dyslexic. You really don't want me as your proofer anyway.
*Story analysis -- I used to be a freelance story analyst for scripts. I'll do a modified coverage report for you -- a quick synopsis, and a paragraph or so on Characters, Plot, Originality, Writing, Cinematic/Genre Qualities, and either a category of your choice or just a "additional notes" category.
*Reader reaction -- I can take my analyst/teacher hat off and just read and tell you whether I liked the bit about the dog and hated the girlfriend, and if I think it's too long or too short.
*Deep reader reaction -- If I have time I might be willing to do a more beat-by-beat reader reaction in return for the same. This is where I put notes in the story that says what I'm thinking as I read. "No! No! Don't go into the basement alone!" "Yeah, right. Shoot yourself in the foot while you're at it." "I bet that's a clue." "It IS a clue!" "Oh wait, it's a red herring." And the dreaded, "Yawn" or "I hope you're not going where I think you're going."
Note that I will not have time to start reading for others until June, and I'm not the fastest reader.
I'll post another request when the book is finished, but in the meantime, you can surreptitiously check out the first five chapters and see what you're getting into on the download page.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Two Very Short Flash Stories
Here are a couple of microfiction stories. They are VERY short - written to meet the 100 word limit on stories at Flashshot.
The first story was actually published at Flashshot, but it went up right around when my father died this past fall, and I completely missed it when it was on line.
MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER
by Camille LaGuire
THE BODY LAY beside the lectern, dead of three gunshot wounds. Overhead a banner proclaimed "No One's a Loser - Your Path to Success and Happiness."
"He called ME a loser," said his wife. "You should have heard him. The man who encouraged everyone else! He never had a single nice thing to say to me. Then he said he was leaving me for that bimbo."
She sniffed and looked into the detective's eyes.
"For the first time, he said something that really motivated me."
THE CORONER'S LINE
by Camille LaGuire
DETECTIVE WINSTON WAS gorgeous. The Coroner was completely smitten with her, but she was always all business. He could never think of anything to say. He'd get his nerve up, but then he'd just say, "Where's your corpse?"
She pointed him to the bag. He noted that the hands were bagged, the clothing preserved properly. Oh, and there such interesting bruising, and that wound on the forehead....
"I'd like you compliment you on your body," said the coroner. "I hope you will feel free to hold it against me."
Yeah, yeah. Bad jokes are all very suited to the ultra short microfiction. I won't be doing a Story Notes on this one, though.
Tomorrow, I'll post a call for beta readers for my work-in-progress. If you think you might be interested in reading The Man Who Did Too Much before publication, check out the info page (where the beginning is available for download -- 5 chapters, 15,000 words or about 40-50 pages).
The first story was actually published at Flashshot, but it went up right around when my father died this past fall, and I completely missed it when it was on line.
=========
MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER
by Camille LaGuire
THE BODY LAY beside the lectern, dead of three gunshot wounds. Overhead a banner proclaimed "No One's a Loser - Your Path to Success and Happiness."
"He called ME a loser," said his wife. "You should have heard him. The man who encouraged everyone else! He never had a single nice thing to say to me. Then he said he was leaving me for that bimbo."
She sniffed and looked into the detective's eyes.
"For the first time, he said something that really motivated me."
=========
THE CORONER'S LINE
by Camille LaGuire
DETECTIVE WINSTON WAS gorgeous. The Coroner was completely smitten with her, but she was always all business. He could never think of anything to say. He'd get his nerve up, but then he'd just say, "Where's your corpse?"
She pointed him to the bag. He noted that the hands were bagged, the clothing preserved properly. Oh, and there such interesting bruising, and that wound on the forehead....
"I'd like you compliment you on your body," said the coroner. "I hope you will feel free to hold it against me."
========
Yeah, yeah. Bad jokes are all very suited to the ultra short microfiction. I won't be doing a Story Notes on this one, though.
Tomorrow, I'll post a call for beta readers for my work-in-progress. If you think you might be interested in reading The Man Who Did Too Much before publication, check out the info page (where the beginning is available for download -- 5 chapters, 15,000 words or about 40-50 pages).
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Update: New May Goal (already)
(LATER NOTE: a repetitive stress injury to my shoulder deep-sixed my writing output in mid-May. So I won't be meeting the May goal -- but I still hope to have it ready for beta readers by the end of June.)
It is SO nice to be caught up on sleep. You should try it. You really should....
Still not ready to go back to my regular posting schedule (I'll do that in mid-May) but I am already feeling quite refreshed. So much so that I realize I should also postpone even my interview posts until I return. The point of this break is to keep my focus on writing.
I realized last night that I am actually closer to finishing The Man Who Did Too Much than I am on the "almost done" novella I was planning to do. Man Who has had some nice shelf time, and seems ripe now, so....
The goal for May is to finish The Man Who Did Too Much. I don't know exactly how many words it needs, so I'm keeping the word count goal at 30k. I'll work on other things too, anyway.
For those who have been following this blog from the beginning, you know that this book has been giving me fits. It goes wonderfully and then stops. Then goes wonderfully again, and then stops.
I think, though, my biggest problem with this book is that it's the most "commercial" book I've written. (Even if it is in a relatively slow genre -- cozy mystery -- and I'm coloring just outside the lines as usual.) I was planning on traditional publication for this book, and when I shifted to indie publishing, this book got caught between two mindsets for a while.
I was going to write something about that shift in mindset, but I was interrupted too many times while I took notes, and pretty soon it made no sense even to me. So I'm saving it for another time.
So right now I'm reading what I've got on the story, and scribbling scenes. (If you're curious - I've put together an info page with a rough description.)
I've also had some interesting adventures in illustration for The Misplaced Hero, and so I'll be blogging about covers and art and all that when I come back.
(The cover you see here, is not the final cover for Man Who. It is, however, the version I like best so far, and I've LOST the original. I do have all the parts, so I guess this is the way Fate has chosen to make me do more work on the figures....)
It is SO nice to be caught up on sleep. You should try it. You really should....
Still not ready to go back to my regular posting schedule (I'll do that in mid-May) but I am already feeling quite refreshed. So much so that I realize I should also postpone even my interview posts until I return. The point of this break is to keep my focus on writing.
I realized last night that I am actually closer to finishing The Man Who Did Too Much than I am on the "almost done" novella I was planning to do. Man Who has had some nice shelf time, and seems ripe now, so....The goal for May is to finish The Man Who Did Too Much. I don't know exactly how many words it needs, so I'm keeping the word count goal at 30k. I'll work on other things too, anyway.
For those who have been following this blog from the beginning, you know that this book has been giving me fits. It goes wonderfully and then stops. Then goes wonderfully again, and then stops.
I think, though, my biggest problem with this book is that it's the most "commercial" book I've written. (Even if it is in a relatively slow genre -- cozy mystery -- and I'm coloring just outside the lines as usual.) I was planning on traditional publication for this book, and when I shifted to indie publishing, this book got caught between two mindsets for a while.
I was going to write something about that shift in mindset, but I was interrupted too many times while I took notes, and pretty soon it made no sense even to me. So I'm saving it for another time.
So right now I'm reading what I've got on the story, and scribbling scenes. (If you're curious - I've put together an info page with a rough description.)
I've also had some interesting adventures in illustration for The Misplaced Hero, and so I'll be blogging about covers and art and all that when I come back.
(The cover you see here, is not the final cover for Man Who. It is, however, the version I like best so far, and I've LOST the original. I do have all the parts, so I guess this is the way Fate has chosen to make me do more work on the figures....)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Winner of the Hemingway's Baby Shoes Microfiction Contest!
We only had four entries in the Hemingway's Baby Shoes Blogfest and Microfiction Contest, but I was pleased to see four quite different stories, and it made for entertaining reading.
(A quick reminder to those who may have forgotten, the stories had to be under 1000 words, and had to be spring from Hemingway's six-word story "For sale, baby shoes. Never worn.")
I won't hold you in suspense, the winner is:
*Door-Stepping by Jez Watts
This story stood out as a touching tale of grief and revenge. It was well written, moody and vivid. It's a reminder that a thousand word story can indeed be a full story and it also (imho) illustrates why Hemingway's story is not enough.
And here are the others:
*Green & Gold by Mike Miller.
This is a story like I would write -- taking the concept of the Hemingway story and setting it on its ear in a more cheery way. It could potentially use a little more work on sowing the seeds of the ending better into the beginning.
*He Wore His Son's Baby Shoes by Kaye Linden.
Another vivid story of grief and healing. It was a bit too vivid in terms of grueling detail for me, but it also brought a lyrical folk culture element to the story too.
*Goodbye, Kids! by Uddhav Parab.
This sf story used the Hemingway story as more of a spring board for a story of another family tragedy, as an old man has to make a choice for his grandchildren. The details and language were sometimes a little hazy, but the old man's dilemma was vivid.
And for the blogfest there was my own story (not an entrant and therefore it exceeded the word limit):
"The Real Unexpurgated Story of The Baby Shoes Which Were Sold Unused."
I want to thank all of the participants. I hope to do this again, perhaps in the fall.
(A quick reminder to those who may have forgotten, the stories had to be under 1000 words, and had to be spring from Hemingway's six-word story "For sale, baby shoes. Never worn.")
I won't hold you in suspense, the winner is:
*Door-Stepping by Jez Watts
This story stood out as a touching tale of grief and revenge. It was well written, moody and vivid. It's a reminder that a thousand word story can indeed be a full story and it also (imho) illustrates why Hemingway's story is not enough.
And here are the others:
*Green & Gold by Mike Miller.
This is a story like I would write -- taking the concept of the Hemingway story and setting it on its ear in a more cheery way. It could potentially use a little more work on sowing the seeds of the ending better into the beginning.
*He Wore His Son's Baby Shoes by Kaye Linden.
Another vivid story of grief and healing. It was a bit too vivid in terms of grueling detail for me, but it also brought a lyrical folk culture element to the story too.
*Goodbye, Kids! by Uddhav Parab.
This sf story used the Hemingway story as more of a spring board for a story of another family tragedy, as an old man has to make a choice for his grandchildren. The details and language were sometimes a little hazy, but the old man's dilemma was vivid.
And for the blogfest there was my own story (not an entrant and therefore it exceeded the word limit):
"The Real Unexpurgated Story of The Baby Shoes Which Were Sold Unused."
I want to thank all of the participants. I hope to do this again, perhaps in the fall.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Story Notes - The Curse of Scattershale Gulch
Yesterday's posting was a very short excerpt from "The Curse of Scattershale Gulch." Here is how that story came about:
ABOUT EIGHT OR nine years ago, I saw a posting for an anthology looking for mystery stories with a ghost element. That sounded like a promising theme and I cast about for an idea for, oh, maybe three seconds before I thought about Mick and Casey.
Now, it's true that the Mick and Casey Mysteries are all straight forward mysteries. No supernatural elements at all -- because after all, supernatural elements are a cheat when it comes to a whodunnit. I have to admit, though, that there is a certain element of Scooby Doo and Nancy Drew about Mick and Casey.
Furthermore, Dame Agatha herself liked a good ghost story, and certainly ghosts and mysteries have gone together since the first ghost story. In some ways, I think the modern cozy mystery really has more in common with gothic ghost stories than with any other kid of story. Most ghost stories are actually mysteries. How often does the plot of an old-fashioned ghost story involve solving the riddle of the ghost's murder or mysterious death? Or resolving some long standing injustice?
And many non-supernatural mysteries have elements of a ghost story. The theme of seeking justice for the dead, or being haunted by memories. That's often what a straight mystery or crime story is about. (For instance, LAURA, Otto Preminger's 1944 Noir movie, in which the hard-boiled Dana Andrews is haunted by the portrait of the woman whose murder he is investigating.)
But to take this back to Scooby Doo.... The bad thing about Scooby Doo is that the mysterious elements always turned out to be a hoax, just some old crank in a monster costume trying to trick people. That's fine for a bit of black-out comedy, but you lose something with that kind of a story.
Even when there is no magic in a story, and a ghost or a lurking evil is merely a symbol, there is still the magic of the mind. That need for justice haunts us for real, a fear of evil calls to us to defend ourselves. Those themes have resonance and no matter whether the story has real ghosts or not, the story has to take those themes seriously.
At the same time, if you do have real magic and a real ghost, you have to take the factual mystery seriously as well. The ghost is a character, and its identity, motives and actions are in question as much as anyone else.
Those two elements were the driving forces for me in writing this story -- Murder will out, but a puzzle is still a puzzle, and everyone's a suspect.
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch wound up too long for the anthology. I edited it to the bone, but only ruined the story in the process, so I threw that version away. I never found a market for the longer version.
I do know though, that I enjoyed mixing genres, and I'd love to do more "seasonal" writing for Mick and Casey. Sure I'd like to do another Halloween story, but I think next I might try a Christmas story -- "Six-Gun Santa" in which Mick has to stand in for the jolly old elf when a crazy old drunk calls Santa out for a shoot out. There are orphans to save and a mystery to solve, if Mick can talk his way out of getting shot....
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch is an 8500 word novelette, available for just 99 cents at Amazon's Kindle Store, as well as Kindle UK. Smashwords has multiple formats for all kinds of e-readers -- including just reading it right there on their site. (It should be available on Apple's iBookstore, and Barnes and Noble's Nook store within a week or so.)
ABOUT EIGHT OR nine years ago, I saw a posting for an anthology looking for mystery stories with a ghost element. That sounded like a promising theme and I cast about for an idea for, oh, maybe three seconds before I thought about Mick and Casey.
Now, it's true that the Mick and Casey Mysteries are all straight forward mysteries. No supernatural elements at all -- because after all, supernatural elements are a cheat when it comes to a whodunnit. I have to admit, though, that there is a certain element of Scooby Doo and Nancy Drew about Mick and Casey.
Furthermore, Dame Agatha herself liked a good ghost story, and certainly ghosts and mysteries have gone together since the first ghost story. In some ways, I think the modern cozy mystery really has more in common with gothic ghost stories than with any other kid of story. Most ghost stories are actually mysteries. How often does the plot of an old-fashioned ghost story involve solving the riddle of the ghost's murder or mysterious death? Or resolving some long standing injustice?
And many non-supernatural mysteries have elements of a ghost story. The theme of seeking justice for the dead, or being haunted by memories. That's often what a straight mystery or crime story is about. (For instance, LAURA, Otto Preminger's 1944 Noir movie, in which the hard-boiled Dana Andrews is haunted by the portrait of the woman whose murder he is investigating.)
But to take this back to Scooby Doo.... The bad thing about Scooby Doo is that the mysterious elements always turned out to be a hoax, just some old crank in a monster costume trying to trick people. That's fine for a bit of black-out comedy, but you lose something with that kind of a story.
Even when there is no magic in a story, and a ghost or a lurking evil is merely a symbol, there is still the magic of the mind. That need for justice haunts us for real, a fear of evil calls to us to defend ourselves. Those themes have resonance and no matter whether the story has real ghosts or not, the story has to take those themes seriously.
At the same time, if you do have real magic and a real ghost, you have to take the factual mystery seriously as well. The ghost is a character, and its identity, motives and actions are in question as much as anyone else.
Those two elements were the driving forces for me in writing this story -- Murder will out, but a puzzle is still a puzzle, and everyone's a suspect.
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch wound up too long for the anthology. I edited it to the bone, but only ruined the story in the process, so I threw that version away. I never found a market for the longer version.
I do know though, that I enjoyed mixing genres, and I'd love to do more "seasonal" writing for Mick and Casey. Sure I'd like to do another Halloween story, but I think next I might try a Christmas story -- "Six-Gun Santa" in which Mick has to stand in for the jolly old elf when a crazy old drunk calls Santa out for a shoot out. There are orphans to save and a mystery to solve, if Mick can talk his way out of getting shot....
=============
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch is an 8500 word novelette, available for just 99 cents at Amazon's Kindle Store, as well as Kindle UK. Smashwords has multiple formats for all kinds of e-readers -- including just reading it right there on their site. (It should be available on Apple's iBookstore, and Barnes and Noble's Nook store within a week or so.)
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Curse Of Scattershale Gulch - an excerpt
For Sample Sunday this week I give you an excerpt from my latest novelette -- a Mick and Casey Mystery with a little ghost story mixed in.
In the first chapter, Mick and Casey expected to meet a friend, Oren, who works as a "messenger" for a stagecoach company. But Oren has died of a fall from his horse....
Chapter 2 of The Curse of Scattershale Gulch
by Camille LaGuire
I WENT OFF to the saloon, a dark little place with a couple of little rickety tables and a long bar. Casey and Turcotte the lawyer were standing at the bar. In the corner was a couple of guys playing checkers, or maybe taking a nap. I couldn't tell.
I told Casey about Oren's misfortune. She took off her hat and slapped it on the bar and raised her glass. Distracting as it was getting a rare glimpse of her bare forehead, I found myself watching Turcotte, who had turned pale and was now staring at me.
"Died? He...fell?" he stammered, and he turned to the bartender, who appeared to already know about it, since he was nodding. "In Scattershale Gulch?"
"Yeah," said the bartender.
"That's the same as...." Turcotte finished his drink instead of his sentence.
"Same as Bronco Annie," said the bartender, filling Turcotte's glass again. Turcotte leaned over his glass and looked pale, but then tightened his fist around it.
"Damn recklessness," he announced, like it needed a label. "That's what it was." He looked at me, and licked his lips, and then looked at Casey, like it was her fault. "Bronco Annie was reckless, too. Like that one," he said, and he pointed at Casey. "You should have seen this girl jump off the top of that stage. Damn recklessness. That's the trouble."
I picked up my beer and stepped back to be out of the line of fire between Casey and Turcotte, but Casey wasn't sure she should be offended. She put her hat back on and tilted it back and then leaned on the bar, which was a little tricky since she's so short.
"How'd this Bronco Annie die?" she asked.
"You having second thoughts about recklessness?"
Casey took a drink of her whiskey and shook her head.
"Nah. Wondering if it's how we want to go," she said, and she wagged her thumb at me to include me in her plans for a wild demise. I didn't mind. I was willing to go where she went.
"It was nothing to aspire to," Turcotte snapped. "I was here that night. She was drunk, and in a brawling mood, and it was dark, and cold and wet outside. And then somebody brought word that her favorite mare was in foal, and she jumped on that half wild stallion of hers and went tearing back to her place. She took a short cut, down a gulch with a steep trail. The footing was bad and the horse took a misstep, and they both went down and broke their necks."
We paused in silence a moment, and then Casey set down her drink in disgust.
"Well, that's not much," she said. I had to agree. As stories went, it was short and dull. Casey was clearly in the mood for something more embroidered, especially about a woman like herself, and she scowled. "That ain't much at all. Anybody could die that way."
"Sure, and anybody did!"
That came from behind us, a female voice as Irish as my Aunt Fiona. We turned and saw a young woman, maybe my age--early twenties--but she looked as young as Casey. She had hair as pale as sunlight, which rippled back to where it was gathered with a black ribbon, and her skin was flushed with sunburn and scattered with freckles across porcelain. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost silver, like maybe they were washed out by the sun like her hair.
And I thought, she's the gal Oren was coming to see.
She had a plate in each hand, with steak, eggs and potatoes. They were nothing special, but they smelled good. Casey, though, was not as easily distracted as I was.
"You mean Oren?" she asked. "When you say anybody?"
"I mean more than Oren." She went over to the rickety table and set the plates down. Then she held out a pair of forks toward us. "Mr. Smith thought you might be hungry, working as messengers and all."
"Thanks," I said, and I took the fork from her before saying, "but we ain't messengers."
"No?" she said, and she looked pointedly at the guns slung on our hips. "And what are you?"
"Range detectives," said Casey firmly, and she shoveled a big fork of eggs into her mouth.
"And there's a difference?" she asked.
"A messenger's got a steady job," I said.
Casey swallowed her eggs, and narrowed her eyes at the woman.
"Who else died riding wild?"
"Perhaps not riding so wild," she said, "but down that very same trail there were a few. Bronco Annie was the first. Then Mr. Turcotte had his own little accident, didn't he? Scared him so bad, he left town."
Turcotte took a deep breath. "As you can see, I'm alive."
"After that it was a rancher named Ben Lattimer, and a year later it was his brother Luke. And now it's Oren. All down the same trail into Scatter-Shale Gulch."
"A dangerous trail," said Turcotte. "Bad footing."
"Dangerous in the dark for sure," said the lass. She looked toward the window. "And so I had better be going while there's still daylight. Wouldn't want to be on that trail at night."
She drew up her black shawl and headed for the door. I noticed that her dress was patched and, plain. And black. She turned as she got to the door.
"If you're range detectives, perhaps you'd be interested to know," she said. "When they found Annie's horse, he'd been shot. Through the breast."
She laid a hand on her own breast to illustrate, and then she went out. I stared after her for a minute, and then I turned back to Turcotte and the bartender.
"Is that so?" I said.
"I don't know, I didn't see it," said Turcotte. "And I went to Johnson City soon after that."
I looked at the bartender. He nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "Ben Lattimer said he'd shot it. Put it out of its misery."
"Lattimer is the guy died on that same trail later on."
"Yep."
The bartender didn't look too comfortable about that. I didn't blame him.
Tomorrow I'll post some notes on the writing of The Curse of Scattershale Gulch.
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch is an 8500 word novelette, available for just 99 cents at Amazon's Kindle Store, as well as Kindle UK. Smashwords has multiple formats for all kinds of e-readers -- including just reading it right there on their site. (It should be available on Apple's iBookstore, and Barnes and Noble's Nook store within a week or so.)
In the first chapter, Mick and Casey expected to meet a friend, Oren, who works as a "messenger" for a stagecoach company. But Oren has died of a fall from his horse....
=======
Chapter 2 of The Curse of Scattershale Gulchby Camille LaGuire
=======
I WENT OFF to the saloon, a dark little place with a couple of little rickety tables and a long bar. Casey and Turcotte the lawyer were standing at the bar. In the corner was a couple of guys playing checkers, or maybe taking a nap. I couldn't tell.
I told Casey about Oren's misfortune. She took off her hat and slapped it on the bar and raised her glass. Distracting as it was getting a rare glimpse of her bare forehead, I found myself watching Turcotte, who had turned pale and was now staring at me.
"Died? He...fell?" he stammered, and he turned to the bartender, who appeared to already know about it, since he was nodding. "In Scattershale Gulch?"
"Yeah," said the bartender.
"That's the same as...." Turcotte finished his drink instead of his sentence.
"Same as Bronco Annie," said the bartender, filling Turcotte's glass again. Turcotte leaned over his glass and looked pale, but then tightened his fist around it.
"Damn recklessness," he announced, like it needed a label. "That's what it was." He looked at me, and licked his lips, and then looked at Casey, like it was her fault. "Bronco Annie was reckless, too. Like that one," he said, and he pointed at Casey. "You should have seen this girl jump off the top of that stage. Damn recklessness. That's the trouble."
I picked up my beer and stepped back to be out of the line of fire between Casey and Turcotte, but Casey wasn't sure she should be offended. She put her hat back on and tilted it back and then leaned on the bar, which was a little tricky since she's so short.
"How'd this Bronco Annie die?" she asked.
"You having second thoughts about recklessness?"
Casey took a drink of her whiskey and shook her head.
"Nah. Wondering if it's how we want to go," she said, and she wagged her thumb at me to include me in her plans for a wild demise. I didn't mind. I was willing to go where she went.
"It was nothing to aspire to," Turcotte snapped. "I was here that night. She was drunk, and in a brawling mood, and it was dark, and cold and wet outside. And then somebody brought word that her favorite mare was in foal, and she jumped on that half wild stallion of hers and went tearing back to her place. She took a short cut, down a gulch with a steep trail. The footing was bad and the horse took a misstep, and they both went down and broke their necks."
We paused in silence a moment, and then Casey set down her drink in disgust.
"Well, that's not much," she said. I had to agree. As stories went, it was short and dull. Casey was clearly in the mood for something more embroidered, especially about a woman like herself, and she scowled. "That ain't much at all. Anybody could die that way."
"Sure, and anybody did!"
That came from behind us, a female voice as Irish as my Aunt Fiona. We turned and saw a young woman, maybe my age--early twenties--but she looked as young as Casey. She had hair as pale as sunlight, which rippled back to where it was gathered with a black ribbon, and her skin was flushed with sunburn and scattered with freckles across porcelain. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost silver, like maybe they were washed out by the sun like her hair.
And I thought, she's the gal Oren was coming to see.
She had a plate in each hand, with steak, eggs and potatoes. They were nothing special, but they smelled good. Casey, though, was not as easily distracted as I was.
"You mean Oren?" she asked. "When you say anybody?"
"I mean more than Oren." She went over to the rickety table and set the plates down. Then she held out a pair of forks toward us. "Mr. Smith thought you might be hungry, working as messengers and all."
"Thanks," I said, and I took the fork from her before saying, "but we ain't messengers."
"No?" she said, and she looked pointedly at the guns slung on our hips. "And what are you?"
"Range detectives," said Casey firmly, and she shoveled a big fork of eggs into her mouth.
"And there's a difference?" she asked.
"A messenger's got a steady job," I said.
Casey swallowed her eggs, and narrowed her eyes at the woman.
"Who else died riding wild?"
"Perhaps not riding so wild," she said, "but down that very same trail there were a few. Bronco Annie was the first. Then Mr. Turcotte had his own little accident, didn't he? Scared him so bad, he left town."
Turcotte took a deep breath. "As you can see, I'm alive."
"After that it was a rancher named Ben Lattimer, and a year later it was his brother Luke. And now it's Oren. All down the same trail into Scatter-Shale Gulch."
"A dangerous trail," said Turcotte. "Bad footing."
"Dangerous in the dark for sure," said the lass. She looked toward the window. "And so I had better be going while there's still daylight. Wouldn't want to be on that trail at night."
She drew up her black shawl and headed for the door. I noticed that her dress was patched and, plain. And black. She turned as she got to the door.
"If you're range detectives, perhaps you'd be interested to know," she said. "When they found Annie's horse, he'd been shot. Through the breast."
She laid a hand on her own breast to illustrate, and then she went out. I stared after her for a minute, and then I turned back to Turcotte and the bartender.
"Is that so?" I said.
"I don't know, I didn't see it," said Turcotte. "And I went to Johnson City soon after that."
I looked at the bartender. He nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "Ben Lattimer said he'd shot it. Put it out of its misery."
"Lattimer is the guy died on that same trail later on."
"Yep."
The bartender didn't look too comfortable about that. I didn't blame him.
=============
Tomorrow I'll post some notes on the writing of The Curse of Scattershale Gulch.
The Curse of Scattershale Gulch is an 8500 word novelette, available for just 99 cents at Amazon's Kindle Store, as well as Kindle UK. Smashwords has multiple formats for all kinds of e-readers -- including just reading it right there on their site. (It should be available on Apple's iBookstore, and Barnes and Noble's Nook store within a week or so.)
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