Six Rivers County

The great thing about writing as well as life is that you can start all over again. Besieged by various life events, illness and depression, the last year has been challenging. Certainly, not life-changing as it has for some of my family and friends, but hard for me to get through. So, here goes. Me starting over. My first as-yet-unborn mystery novel actually grew. I have just finished the last chapter in the second draft. Sam and Mary have discovered a new dimension in their relationship and the over-arching plot of the series is laid down. And I’ve learned a few things on the way to this point. First, having a critique group every week keeps me working. I have a deadline. I need deadlines. That way, I keep writing, even if I don’t always like what I’ve written. I just keep writing. Second, scenes and chapters I’ve written usually go over better with others than they do with me. Of course, I have not shown them to my husband. He’s too close...

Where do you find that place between cliché and innovation? In genre fiction, especially mysteries, there is a certain expectation on the part of the reader for elements specific to that genre. I finished writing the 43 rd chapter of Smoked yesterday. In it, I have used a cliché and then dismissed it. The following is a scene in the interrogation room, Sam Terwillager trying to get information out of the prime suspect, Otis Carter. “You don’t have to answer that,” said Harlow, his voice raspy and his eyes never leaving the table top. Carter waved the cliché away. “Jimmy walked ten miles to call Didi to tell her someone took the truck.” One of my critique readers registered her approval. “Use a cliché and then dismiss it for what it is.” (Or something to that effect.)   I hadn’t given it a thought, but I took in what she said. It made me think about writing detective fiction and how to be realistic as well as inventive. But, when a lawyer is advising his client i...

My latest dilemma comes from trying to be realistic about a shooting scene and not gross my readers out. It was hard. I finally did it, though. I told it from the point of view of Sam, who had been wounded on the side of his face. He was in shock and therefore he did his best to deny and block out all that was going on around him.         Now, Sam will have a great scar on his right cheekbone and a hardly noticeable nick in his hairline above his ear. What do you think? Will he be sexier that way?

I keep embarrassing myself. I looked at my blog today and realized I had not written anything in a month. Rather than wallow, I decide to write. I looked at another blog today, by critique-mate Jenny Fulford. Her blog http://www.livingonink.com/  has creative flow and a freshness of youthful enthusiasm. I appreciate that. Thanks for your words, Jenny. Now, to come to terms with being a writer. Writing is important on a number of levels. One, is to reach out to others with my thoughts. Another is to entertain. Ultimately, writing is important because I feel compelled by something beyond me. Something that grew out of the 61 + years I've lived. I like to blame it on my grandfather who was a newspaper reporter for most of his adult life. When he read to his grandchildren, he read things like Kipling and Poe, great masters of rhythm and whose works had myriad levels of meaning. Now, Kipling is politically incorrect and Poe is just some old drug addict. I don't care. No matt...