A Good Writing Tool
Writing a mystery novel is a big undertaking, and a writer needs all the help available to make it happen. I belong to Sisters in Crime as well as Oregon Writers Colony. Through them, I not only network with other writers, editors and publishers, I also find a community that gives me professional support. And critique groups.
Critique groups are essential for less experienced writers. Although I've been writing since I was 10, I am working on my first book-length novel, and I cherish my fellow critiquers. They remind me that though I should have fun with what I'm doing, I will have to consider the reader. They point out that if it isn't on the page, the reader ain't gonna get it. I may know what I mean, but others might not. Also, it helps to have feedback on how the emotional impact of the book affects the reader. So, as the descendent of the rascal Randy Galvan stalks my heroine, I have to make sure that the reader feels her panic and his determination.
You remember Randy Galvan, right? The fair Ellen jilted him to live with her love in the wilderness. But Randy refuses to let her go and has built up illicit channels for making a fortune to win her back or kill her in the attempt. Then I let you wonder if he would succeed. Well, he tried. Once he had enough money to buy respectability in the wild's of the north coast, he looked around for a strategic wife. One of the best connected young ladies in the area was the eldest daughter of the Merchant and his amiable wife. Her name was Maggie and she was a quiet, shy young girl with a crooked smile. However, Randy did not want to be associated with Maggie's parents because they were good friends with Stanislaus and Ellen. The dastard lured her away from her family, in the guise of romantic urgency, to wed her in secret, and thereafter to keep her hidden in the back country, two-day's ride from the little community. Randy spends most of his time spying on the Rittenhaurs, waiting for his chance to get even.
Meanwhile, Stanislaus and Ellen welcome a new Rittenhauer into their lives, a red-haired son. As a surprise for Ellen, Stanislaus had ordered a red maple tree to be delivered. He planted it himself on the day his son was born, so that in the fall, the leaves would declare his love in the color of the leaves. Leaves the color of his beloved wife's hair and, happily, of his new son. The baby brought joy as well as more work, so help became necessary. Since the Chinese laborers who came for the gold rush now had little work to do, it seemed to Stanislaus a happy coincidence. Therefore, he found a couple from Canton who could speak enough English to be helpful. Stanislaus and the Chinaman named Kwan built a small house adjacent to the mansion for the newly arrived couple.
It was Kwan who, working in the yard many months later, spied a strange man lurking along the timberline. The man had a gun. (And you know that man was Randy Galvan.) It became obvious to Kwan that the man meant evil and was approaching the house, he became alarmed. The master was in town for supplies, so it was up to Kwan to protect the family. Being careful to avoid being seen, Kwan entered the porch of the house and the closet where the master kept his rifle. By the time he got the gun loaded, he heard a scream from the large parlor. He snuck through the kitchen and peeked around the corner to see a tall man with his gun pointed at both Ellen and Kwan's own wife, Huey. "You can't run from me anymore, Ellen," the evil man said. "Randy," Ellen spoke, her voice quivering with fear. "Don't do this. I don't love you. And you have a wife of your own. You don't need me." Randy argued every point Ellen made, and while she kept him talking, Kwan raised the rifle. He had a straight shot, but just as he pulled the trigger, Huey stepped into the trajectory and was shot. The bullet went through her body and glanced off Randy's shoulder. Randy turned and shot at Kwan, but, put off balance by the glancing blow, he missed. Kwan then shot him dead.
Poor Kwan, joined by Stanislaus and Ellen, grieved the death of Huey, but he was handsomely rewarded with 5 acres of land as his own. And he stayed with the Rittenhauers until he died at the age of 91.
Maggie was reunited with her parents, and later that year, she gave birth to a son.
Meanwhile, Stanislaus and Ellen welcome a new Rittenhauer into their lives, a red-haired son. As a surprise for Ellen, Stanislaus had ordered a red maple tree to be delivered. He planted it himself on the day his son was born, so that in the fall, the leaves would declare his love in the color of the leaves. Leaves the color of his beloved wife's hair and, happily, of his new son. The baby brought joy as well as more work, so help became necessary. Since the Chinese laborers who came for the gold rush now had little work to do, it seemed to Stanislaus a happy coincidence. Therefore, he found a couple from Canton who could speak enough English to be helpful. Stanislaus and the Chinaman named Kwan built a small house adjacent to the mansion for the newly arrived couple.
It was Kwan who, working in the yard many months later, spied a strange man lurking along the timberline. The man had a gun. (And you know that man was Randy Galvan.) It became obvious to Kwan that the man meant evil and was approaching the house, he became alarmed. The master was in town for supplies, so it was up to Kwan to protect the family. Being careful to avoid being seen, Kwan entered the porch of the house and the closet where the master kept his rifle. By the time he got the gun loaded, he heard a scream from the large parlor. He snuck through the kitchen and peeked around the corner to see a tall man with his gun pointed at both Ellen and Kwan's own wife, Huey. "You can't run from me anymore, Ellen," the evil man said. "Randy," Ellen spoke, her voice quivering with fear. "Don't do this. I don't love you. And you have a wife of your own. You don't need me." Randy argued every point Ellen made, and while she kept him talking, Kwan raised the rifle. He had a straight shot, but just as he pulled the trigger, Huey stepped into the trajectory and was shot. The bullet went through her body and glanced off Randy's shoulder. Randy turned and shot at Kwan, but, put off balance by the glancing blow, he missed. Kwan then shot him dead.
Poor Kwan, joined by Stanislaus and Ellen, grieved the death of Huey, but he was handsomely rewarded with 5 acres of land as his own. And he stayed with the Rittenhauers until he died at the age of 91.
Maggie was reunited with her parents, and later that year, she gave birth to a son.
Tools can get you far, for sure, and the most useful tool a writer can have is discipline. Without the determination to put your butt in the chair and get the words out, there will be no book. Discipline is a tool I have to work hard at developing. Having that critique group every week gives me short-term incentives. It also brings out the competitiveness in me. Not a bad thing. This week we'll see who has the most pages of their books to critique. Or the best story-telling. I would never say that I was competing, but what they don't know won't hurt.
Tools. Can't build a book without them.
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