When You're Queasily Full...

- everything looks like more food. However, these scrumptious landscapes by photographic artist Carl Warner are all food. Click to enlarge. Telegraph slideshow of foodscapes here, and his website including links for posters is here. We wish all safe weekend journeys across the storm-tossed red cabbage sea. There's a reason Rolaids are shaped like life preservers.


UPDATE: Laura's comment referred me to another boffo vegetable art site here. This museum models the masterworks of famous artists. I had no idea there'd be multiples!
Below is a leeky Van Gogh.

Friday Fun - November 28, 2008

A little corny humor for the Post-Thanksgiving groaners:

(Don't miss Terrie's post, following this groaner.)

The man was in no shape to drive, so he wisely left his car parked and walked home.
As he was walking unsteadily along, he was stopped by a policeman.
~"What are you doing out here at 2 A.M.?" said the officer.
"I'm going to a lecture." the man said.
~"And who is going to give a lecture at this hour?" the cop asked.
"My wife," said the man.

~ Thaaaat's all folks!
Thanks to http://www.angelfire.com/pa2/scanner/jokes/police/cops.html
Thanks for the laughs, Uncle Jimmy!

Forgotten Books: My Antonia by Willa Cather

This week I’d like to remind you about Willa Cather and her books chronicling American life long ago. Cather grew up on the Nebraska prairie. Her family moved to the town of Red Cloud when she was about eleven. Much of her writing centers on the geography of Nebraska. The release, in 1918, of her fourth novel, My Antonia, although not a huge best seller at the time, secured Cather’s place as a stellar American novelist. The book is a series of five long stories that are a collection of the memories of a boy named Jim Burton who is sent to a prairie town to live with his grandparents after the death of his parents. Jim has a strong attraction, not necessarily romantic, for an immigrant Bohemian girl named Antonia. The entire book is the story of how the two grew up very differently within the same environment. Each of them was aware of the lifestyle of the other. Since Jim is the more romantic of the two, seeing Antonia through his eyes only accentuates her strength and seeing Nebraska through his eyes accentuates the vitality of prairie life.

When I mentioned to Patti Abbott, proprietor of the Forgotten Book Friday links, that I was writing about My Antonia, she told me that her favorite of Cather’s books is the Professor’s House, which is another great choice.

My local library has a number of Cather’s titles on the classics shelves. Check your library and I am sure you will find one or two Willa Cather books that will command your attention.

Terrie

So behind I forgot to title the post

I haven't updated my NaNo totals recently, and I've been stinting in my blog posts, and I just realized that I said I'd post something today. Not that you're reading it anyway, but it's the principal of the thing, you know.

Still, my bathrooms and linens were cleaned for my guests, the pantry filled, the table and matle dressed, the pre-feast shrimp and spreads ready to serve, and isn't it 5 o'clock somewhere already? Here are pix of what I've been doing instead of writing this week, but tomorrow morning, I will return to my ink-stained wretchedness. For today, I'm Mrs. Fezziwig. Hope you, too, find yourself in good company and good cheer!

It's That Time of Year... (and a goof)

My Bad. While it IS that time of year, in my original post I had posted the wrong winner of this year's Bad Sex Award. I had forgotten that the Literary Review UK doesn't change the dates on their site at all, so there's no way to tell what year they are referring to. Very annoying. Anyway, this year's actual winner is Rachel Johnson, for her novel Shire Hell.

A brief sample:

Almost screaming after five agonizingly pleasurable minutes, I make a grab, to put him, now angrily slapping against both our bellies, inside, but he holds both by arms down, and puts his tongue to my core, like a cat lapping up a dish of cream so as not to miss a single drop. I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me. I really do hope at this point that all the Spodders are, as requested, attending the meeting about slug clearance or whatever it is.

You can read many of this years shortlisted passages on the page the Guardian calls "how not to write a sex scene," and you can find previous years' winners here. The previous winners page doesn't list last year's winner, but for your entertainment I wrote about it at the time. Really, this year's passages, bad as they are, don't seem to compare.

And, in a special treat, this year John Updike, who's been shortlisted four times, received a lifetime achievement award for bad writing in the field.

TWO FOR TUESDAY

In checking out Thanksgiving facts, I came across caffeine destiny an online magazine, and this article, in their fall 2008 (http://www.caffeinedestiny.com/tigiving.html) :

Pilgrims and Indians and the First Thanksgiving
The History of an American Holiday

"Although Indians and Pilgrims joined together for a meal of thanksgiving in 1621, the Indians didn't fare so well at other thanksgiving observances. In 1641, a raid against the members of the Pequot tribe in Connecticut was very successful, and the churches declared a day of "thanksgiving" to celebrate. During this feast, the decapitated heads of Natives were kicked through the streets of Manhatten [sic]. Many towns in New England held thanksgiving days to celebrate victories over the Natives."

YIPES! I'm always thankful for the contributions of the Natives to the world, and the role they took in helping the "new arrivals" survive and thrive. Little did I know how much the later Thanksgivings ended up costing them. I'll give extra thanks this Thursday for the Natives who stuck it out and helped us survive.

Meanwhile, I'm thankful for a sudden inspiration to create a new series of short mysteries - targeting the e-zine market, perhaps. This is my first stab at getting started:

"As a substitute teacher, Mrs. Pickens did a lot of traveling, knew all sorts of kids for miles and miles. All those years of wrangling hormone-driven teens urned out to be pretty valuable when she started her second career as a Private Dick."

Happy Turkey Day! Write On!

MTM: Far Rockaway, New York

Back when radio was a major form of family entertainment and air conditioning but a future dream, the area now known as The Hamptons was scattered with potato farms rather than million dollar mansions. To escape the heat of the city and enjoy some privacy with a beach view and a sea breeze, celebrities like Mary Pickford, W. C. Fields and Mae West often headed to The Rockaway Peninsula in New York City’s Borough of Queens.


Times have changed. The celebs travel farther east now, but The Rockaways still have a broad appeal for those who like a brisk walk by the Atlantic Ocean on an autumn day or want to laze on the beach on a summer afternoon.

Or, you could travel to Far Rockaway to celebrate Literacy Day at the Brian Piccolo Middle School, just as authors Chris Grabenstein, Marco Conelli and I did a couple of Wednesdays ago. Principal Claude Monereau and the entire staff and student body welcomed us warmly. We each spent some time reading to individual classes and at the end of the day we all addressed the Sixth Grade Assembly.

Here is Assistant Principal Diane Ludvigsen warming up our audience before the big show.

Chris Grabenstein did a terrific job explaining how to think up a story and then used his improv skills to pull the story together with audience participation. He told everyone he used a similar process when he discovered the tree that gave him the idea behind his rip roaring young adult ghost story, The Crossroads.

Marco Conelli wowed the kids with personal tales of adventure as he explained how his work as a New York City Detective provides so much material for his fiction. His examples fascinated the audience. Marco’s novel, Matthew Livingston and the Prison of Souls, is a gripping young adult mystery.

I was lucky enough to be asked the best question of the day. "When you finish writing your story, do you analyze it?" So I got to talk about every writer's favorite topic: REVISION. Please stop groaning. You know we have to do it and I've been told I may live long enough to actually enjoy it.

Both Chris and Marco have new YA novels coming out in 2009, so please buy their current novels for any young folks on your Christmas list this year. Once the kids read these original books, they will be clamoring for the next adventure, so your birthday shopping will be very easy next year--you can buy the sequels.

I write stories for adults, not for the YA audience, so I was in a bit of a puzzle trying to figure out what to read to the kids. As always, I get by with a little help from my friends. Wisconsin YA writer Christine Verstraete sent autographed copies of Searching for a Starry Night and Florida YA writer Danette Haworth sent an autographed copy of Violet Raines Almost Got Struck By Lightning so that I would have plenty of material to read aloud.

We keep having this conversation but I am nothing if not repetitive. The community of mystery writers is the warmest, most generous community in the world. Need some time--they give it. Need some books--they send them.

Thanks to the generosity of Chris, Marco, Christine and Danette, the Brian Piccolo School now has copies of each of these well written and highly imaginative books in their lending library.

I also donated a copy of Dying in a Winter Wonderland to the school library. What? You thought I was going to write about books and kids and not mention the Toys For Tots fundraising anthology? Not a chance.

The creative genius who brought My Town Monday to life and nurtures us along each week is Travis Erwin. You can visit him here to find links to other MTM posts.

Terrie

Is DNA spoiling all the fun?

According to an article on Yahoo news, scientists in Poland have discovered the remains of Nicolaus Copernicus.

"Researchers said Thursday they have identified the remains of Nicolaus Copernicus by comparing DNA from a skeleton and hair retrieved from one of the 16th-century astronomer's books. The findings could put an end to centuries of speculation about the exact resting spot of Copernicus, a priest and astronomer whose theories identified the Sun, not the Earth, as the center of the universe."

To read the rest of the article, click here.

This leads to the question: as useful as DNA is in the real world, have modern scientific and technological advances made mystery fiction more difficult to write, or has it made it more fun to write? Could go either way.

Terrie

Friday Fun - November 21, 2008

Kentucky's Criminal Minds:

Two men tried to pull the front off a cash machine by running a chain from the machine to the bumper of their pickup truck.

Instead of pulling the front panel off the machine, though, they pulled the bumper off their truck.

Scared, they left the scene and drove home...with the chain still attached to the machine...with their bumper still attached to the chain...with their vehicle's license plate still attached to the bumper.

Thanks for the laughs, Uncle Jimmy!

Thaaaaat’s all, pals!

Thanks to www.legal-forms-kit.com

New E-zine: Beat To A Pulp

There is much rejoicing in the mystery community today.

Our great friend David Cranmer has announced that he is launching a new mystery e-zine called Beat To A Pulp. The first issue should be released on or about December 15th. David is concentrating on hardboiled crime fiction but open to other styles as well.

The launch story has been written by another great friend of Women of Mystery, Derringer winner Patti Abbott.

Stop by David's blog the Education of a Pulp Writer to wish him well, and to begin the conversation about what you'd like to read in the new e-zine, or perhaps, what you'd like to submit.

Terrie

Plodding With Outlines. Sprinting Without.

image found at sitemaker.umich.edu

As I draft a 50,000 word novel this month while attempting my first NaNoWriMo, I’ve struggled to find a happy medium between plot-planning and winging it. I've continued to waver between the two.

The problem is not one I faced while writing my first novel. Without a deadline, it didn’t much matter whether I raced or crawled. I wrote without an outline, but I did have an idea of the book’s turning points. If I wasn’t sure of a turning point, given plenty of time to cogitate, I knew at least two scenes ahead where my characters were going.

With NaNo things are different. I started out well, but once I wrote beyond the bliss of Ordinary World, the realities of plot stared me in the face and I faltered. I began to write a narrative outline for the next day’s 1675 words before actually writing the scene.

Given the fact that my pocketbook requires, each day, several hours of work-for-pay, there is no time - between meeting one day’s NaNo goal and launching into the next - to think about where my characters are going. When I do find an hour here or there, I’m either stuffing my face in the kitchen or lying zonked on the living room floor. If I’m plodding along within the confines of a narrative outline, by the time I’ve crossed the day’s finish line my mind’s a total blank. That argues for speed writing my way into Never-Never-Land.

Yet when I swallow my fear and launch into a day’s writing with no clue what’s ahead, although some interesting things do happen, my characters tend to run away with the plot. What's more, I fear that, after ignoring family and friends for thirty days and sacrificing activities I have no time for, I won’t have completed draft one of a novel but will instead have threads for five of them.

Heading into week three, I’ve become most comfortable – and most often meet my quota – I have, one scene ahead, at least a vague idea what my characters’ conflicting goals will be, in what setting they’ll try to meet them, and what – for the reader’s sake - they should discover in the process. Within those boundaries, I let them have their way.

I guess this is an outline of sorts, but one with a little more wiggle room. The process slows me down some but doesn’t bring me to a crawl. I’m not exactly coloring between the lines. It’s more like coloring between the dots. I do want to recognize the picture by the time mommy calls me for dinner, but it's awfully clear that in filling it in I’ll need several crayons. Let's hope I complete 50,000 words (and yes, I do plan to make it, despite a bunch of weekend guests at Thanksgiving!) with more than scribbling on the page. I’ll keep you posted.

- Lois

TWO FOR TUESDAY

I'm on a Krista Davis kick - having just finished her brand-spanking new (first) book - she's a member of great standing in the Guppy Chapter of the Sisters In Crime - one of the primary movers and groovers. She has created a nifty character everyone loves to hate. What follows is a clever chapter intro device that keeps running through the story, revealing her protag's nemesis in all her Stepford Wife splendor:

*****

From "Ask Natasha":

Dear Natasha,

Last year I spent hours on Thanksgiving Day polishing the silver. By Christmas it was tarnished again. Isn't there a shortcut to cleaning silver?

~Tarnished in Tappahannock

Dear Tarnished,

I clean my sterling once a week. Use a soft cloth to rub it with a good-quality commercials silver cleaner. If you keep up with it by polishing it every week, it won't be such a chore and will always be ready for use.

~ Natasha

*****

And now, for my two sentences (from an old historical novel set in Zanzibar that almost found a publisher years ago. I'm toying with revamping and sending out for another round):

"With one practiced slash the old woman severed the chicken's neck, then watched impatiently for the plump carcass to be done with its dance of death. Unable to ignore the opportunity for both food and vision, Ramla could never merely kill to make her belly happy. The ritual continued."

So, what have you been reading and writing? Curious minds want to know!

Write ON!
Nan

"

Old Town Life

My Town Monday, where I discover places I'd like to call "My Town."

My latest discovery comes wrapped in the southern comforts of a down-home, lady-like lifestyle that turns out to be anything but predictable or lady-like. Krista Davis's cozy, THE DIVA RUNS OUT OF THYME, nestles you into a setting that resembles a delicate confection with mysteries sprinkled generously throughout. The protag, Sophie, tells the tale with wit and humor, serving up a tasty treat that explores a spicy microcosm. I can't wait to drop in for Sophie's next adventure!

Getting into the setting of this novel is half the fun. Although the location is seemingly familiar, it's full of behind-the-image crime potential. Add in the arrival of dysfunctional relatives who expect a picture-perfect Thanksgiving. What better timing for all sorts of secrets to come tumbling out of the woodwork?

Imagine Old Town Alexandria, just across the river from Washington, DC. "The historic houses and brick sidewalks made it feel like a village instead of a suburb.” So, is this all pretense? Landed gentry coming to visit with elegant ladies and glib gentlemen gliding along cobblestone streets?

As the author, Krista reveals her inner respect for the setting and sets us up to meet some off-beat characters: “A fire crackled in the stone fireplace in the kitchen, dispelling the November chill… But when Mars and I inherited it from his Aunt Faye, the interior had been authentic 1960s flower power. Twiggy would have been at home in the kitchen with orange countertops and faded mod daisy wallpaper.

"... But the very best part was the stone wall we uncovered when we renovated. Most likely part of the original house, the rough stones were thought to be ballast stones, used to weigh down ships crossing the Atlantic, then discarded in the streets in colonial times.…"

[Pardon my minor rearrangement of sequence in the above. For starters, I wanted to give you this quick snapshot. Throughout the book Krista weaves her descriptions through the story line, keeping the scene flowing well, as the next bit will show. ]

“The picture of Aunt Faye that hung over the fireplace slid to a slant. …Dad looked around…. ‘That’s odd.’

"…I swallowed the last bite of pancake. ‘Happens sometimes. Something about the draft from the fireplace, I think.’ …I loved the creaky old place with odd drafts that made pictures move and original peg-and-groove floors that canted so anything dropped on the floor in the living or dining room rolled toward the outer wall.”

The world beyond the Diva's door is a microcosm we all recognize. "I loaded the groceries and backed the car out but was blocked by an elderly woman who could barely see over the steering wheel of her ancient boat-sized Cadillac. She was having trouble maneuvering and somehow managed to stop traffic in the parking lot. There weren't a lot of choices. To give her room, I eased backward toward the rear of the store." ... and ends up beside a blood - smeared Dumpster. How's that for shaking the glow right off the Old Town nostalgia?

Of course, the happy world turns upside down. The plot thickens, along with the mood of the setting. As the climax approaches, our courageous Diva must go to the dark side as she searches for the killer.

“Humphrey balked at the dark alley. Without bright street lights, it seemed dingy. …A weathered door of wormy chestnut, braced by substantial forged-iron hinges, reminded me of medieval England. …I hadn’t expected the interior of the Stag’s Inn to be murkier than the alleyway. …I felt as though we’d walked through some kind of time-warp portal that had transported us to a different land.”--- And so she had!

Add to this setting a most delightful battle of the Domestic Divas, and you'll want to join me in Old Town every year for an update on making certain that nobody gets away with murder in the Diva's home town.

For more My Town Monday posts, visit our fearless leader Travis Erwin, who links to MTM posts from all over the world.

See you there!

Nan

Blurb and Cover Abuse

I do not blame the authors involved for this, but the publishers. I know the kind of shenanigans lurking on copyright pages, but I was in a hurry, so shame on me, I guess. Tempting Fate turns out to be a reprint from 1990, which might have originated as a category title. Even if you don't check the fine print, there's a forwarding note from the author indicating she at least went back and looked it over almost twenty years later. I didn't find it- ahem- to be among the author's best, but some reviewers seem to have liked it better, so your mileage may vary. However, I do think such reprints ought to be branded more obviously on the cover. And I also believe that a publisher plays dangerous shell games with reader good will when choosing cover art and blurbs like this to accompany it.

The highlighted blurb is by bestselling author Tess Gerritsen. "Carla Neggers writes a story so vivid you can smell the salt air and feel the mist on your skin." Note the lantern-lit rowboat, rocking empty at a lonely little pier at sunset. Picturesque, no?

Except the story takes place in Saratoga, New York, near the Adirondacks. Its premise includes horseracing, Victoriana, rockclimbing, mineral springs, and hot air ballooning! The cover art has not one, blooming bit of relevance to this book, but it fit Gerritsen's quote nicely, the one which was originally written about ANOTHER BOOK, The Harbor.

Shady, shady, peeps.

UPDATE: I added the cover for the single-title original, in case anyone thought that the TF cover represented some mistaken duplication. It's an entirely different picture with the same subject matter. It's intentional.

Follow Up: Fake Lives, Real Divorces, but the P.I.s?

Markie McDonald, P.I. operates with discretion from a private cave hide-out where she runs an operation with several undercover agents. (see VPI link below). Well, she doesn't really, but she does spend real time on it. You know what I mean, don't you?

I posted recently about the fictional opportunities of virtual murder, based on the kinds of online relationships cultivated by roleplaying in games like Second Life. Here's another twist.

Couple meets chatting online, get really married (co-located in meat space), until she finds him in front of the computer 'in-world,' pixel-gazing and double-clicking while his online avatar commits adultery, so to speak. She was already suspicious, of course, which is why she'd gone into the Second Life Yellow Pages and hired a virtual private investigator to set up a honey trap.

See the World! Meet fascinating not-quite-people! Bill $100/hour plus expenses in the local currency. Click the link above for many more details on this emerging career.

The Reuters Life! divorce story is here. You tell me who's for real.

Friday Fun - November 14, 2008

Small Town Cops

A police officer in a small town stopped a motorist who was speeding down Main Street.

"But officer," the man began, "I can explain."

"Quiet!" snapped the officer. "I'm going to let you spend the night in jail until the chief gets back."

"But, officer, I just wanted to say..."

"And I said be quiet! You're going to jail!"

A few hours later the officer looked in on his prisoner and said, "Lucky for you, the chief's at his daughter's wedding. He'll be in a good mood when he gets back."

"Don't count on it," answered the guy in the cell. "I'm the groom."

Thanks to http://jokes.edigg.com

Thanks for the laughs, Uncle Jimmy!

Thaaaaat’s all, pals!

Ship Off Those Books

We all have 'em. Boxes, drawers, shelves, bags of books sitting around that we've read and don't know what to do with. We've discussed some places to send them in the past, but I'll add another to the list, courtesy of Dear Author:

Cedar Rapids, Iowa suffered a terrible flood this summer and as a result the Cedar Rapids Public Library was nearly destroyed. Federal funds are being used to rebuild but there are no funds to replace the 20,000-30,000 books destroyed as a result of the water damage. If you want to donate books for the library or items that are suitable for sale on eBay to raise funds, you can send those to Mystery Cat Books at 112 32ndSt S.E., Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 52403.

Sure, you'll have to pay shipping, but you can send them slow boat...no pun intended.

Late Bloomers

Late Bloomer is by Elizabeth Wiltzen/Avens Gallery.

I've been saving this New Yorker article by Malcolm Gladwell. I've excerpted freely, but it's got so much more than I've lifted about the phenomenon of late-blooming genius.

Genius, in the popular conception, is inextricably tied up with precocity—doing something truly creative, we’re inclined to think, requires the freshness and exuberance and energy of youth. Orson Welles made his masterpiece, “Citizen Kane,” at twenty-five. Herman Melville wrote a book a year through his late twenties, culminating, at age thirty-two, with “Moby-Dick.” Mozart wrote his breakthrough Piano Concerto No. 9 in E-Flat-Major at the age of twenty-one. In some creative forms, like lyric poetry, the importance of precocity has hardened into an iron law.

An economist from the University of Chicago examined the realms of art for evidence. He looked through 47 major poetry anthologies and counted the most commonly occurring works and their authors. Among the top works, those of Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, and Wallace Stevens.

...There is no evidence, Galenson concluded, for the notion that lyric poetry is a young person’s game. Some poets do their best work at the beginning of their careers. Others do their best work decades later. Forty-two per cent of Frost’s anthologized poems were written after the age of fifty. For Williams, it’s forty-four per cent. For Stevens, it’s forty-nine per cent...

A painting done by Picasso in his mid-twenties was worth, he found, an average of four times as much as a painting done in his sixties. For Cézanne, the opposite was true. The paintings he created in his mid-sixties were valued fifteen times as highly as the paintings he created as a young man. The freshness, exuberance, and energy of youth did little for Cézanne. He was a late bloomer—and for some reason in our accounting of genius and creativity we have forgotten to make sense of the Cézannes of the world.

Galenson makes the case in his book Old Masters and Young Geniuses that prodigy usually has a vision that it follows unerringly. Late bloomers typically find revelation through trial-and-error, circling the same problems. While experimental, they may also have a streak of perfectionism that leads them to discard what they consider to be inferior prior attempts.

When Cézanne painted his dealer, Ambrose Vollard, he made Vollard arrive at eight in the morning and sit on a rickety platform until eleven-thirty, without a break, on a hundred and fifty occasions—before abandoning the portrait. He would paint a scene, then repaint it, then paint it again. He was notorious for slashing his canvases to pieces in fits of frustration.

Mark Twain was the same way. Galenson quotes the literary critic Franklin Rogers on Twain’s trial-and-error method: “His routine procedure seems to have been to start a novel with some structural plan which ordinarily soon proved defective, whereupon he would cast about for a new plot which would overcome the difficulty, rewrite what he had already written, and then push on until some new defect forced him to repeat the process once again.” Twain fiddled and despaired and revised and gave up on “Huckleberry Finn” so many times that the book took him nearly a decade to complete...

...But sometimes genius is anything but rarefied; sometimes it’s just the thing that emerges after twenty years of working at your kitchen table.

When I began writing book-length fiction, especially in crime, I noticed how seldom it was a young person's passion. Precocious talent is fantastic and interesting, but it isn't the only kind. Whether you feel late on your NaNo word counts (okay, that's me) or seeing your name on bookstore spines, don't attribute it to a lack of talent or potential. Some things just get better later.

You Tube: Dying In A Winter Wonderland

By now everyone knows that I have a short story in the anthology, Dying in A Winter Wonderland. It is a wonderful book filled with entertaining stories, touching on all of the winter holidays.

The best part of the entire project is that all the stories, editing and publishing have been donated to the project so that all proceeds will go to the Marine Toys For Tots Foundation. In turn, Toys For Tots can provide lots of presents to insure a happy holiday season for lots of children in this shaky economy.

Click here to see a You Tube book trailer that will convince you to run out and buy a dozen copies of Dying In A Winter Wonderland. (Hey, I'm a writer, I live in a fantasy world. In the real world, buy what you can.)

Help us help the kids.

******UPDATE: I am guest blogger today over at Cranky Fitness where I talk about healthy holiday habits and, what else, Dying In A Winter Wonderland. Come join the conversation.

Terrie

Two Sentence Tuesday

Well, I've been slacking on NaNo, but I have excuses. Good ones. Really. I did manage a few sentences, however, so here are two:

He carried the drink into the bathroom where he stripped off his dusty, travel-worn clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water sluiced over him and he waited for it to relax the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

I've been reading a fascinating, if scary, book called Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us by Robert D. Hare, PhD. Here's a sample:

...the psychopath carries out his evaluation of a situation--what he will get out of it and at what cost--without the usual anxieties about being humiliated, causing pain, sabotaging future plans, in short, the infinite possibilities that people of conscience consider when deliberating possible actions. For those of us who have been successfully socialized, imagining the world as the psychopath experiences it is close to impossible.

What about you? Post your sentences in the comments, or give us a link and we'll put it up here in the post.

--

• David Cranmer has two sentences with a new slant on living and dying this week on his blog.

• Barbara Martin has two sentences with a gruesome hint of things to come in the comments.

Following Clare

On Saturday Clare wrote a snappy post about many of the verbal foibles that show up in speech and writing. To show us the true scope of this worldwide problem, Clare pointed to a list of ten most irritating phrases as set forth by Oxford University. You can see Clare’s post here.

Not to be outdone by Oxford, the New York Post has a voluntary poll of the most annoying phrases, culled from the Oxford list. Here’s the poll. Please take a look and feel free to vote. I voted for “with all due respect” but right now 24/7 is edging it out.

In the comments on Clare’s post, our pal, David Cranmer who blogs at Education of a Pulp Writer confesses to being a big 24/7 user, so perhaps we all want to vote for some other “most annoying phrase” so David won’t be addicted to using THE most annoying phrase. Instead he can continue to use only ONE of the most annoying phrases on the planet.

****Update, the poll at the NY Post has been replaced by a political poll. I am declaring that 24/7 was not the worst of the phrases and David is safe for now.

Terrie

Other Joys of Pulp: Debbie is Insane

“Dear Mom
This may be the last time you
every see me and
this is because debbie
is insane—and if I
stay around any longer
i’ll be in her condition.”

Found by Laura Grover at an antique shop in Grand Isle, Vermont in August of 2002 on the back of a 1970-71 Vermont College catalog.

Via the fabulous Arts and Letters Daily site, I was referred to the article Of Bibliophilia and Biblioclasm by Theodrore Dalrymple in the New English Review. Don't worry, it's much more lively and approachable than the title might suggest. In it, he discusses various pleasures of the physical book: second-hand stores, the exquisite contempt between sellers and browsers, author autographs, and inscriptions. Of the last, he transcribes several from his own shelves which are thoughtful and political, sweet and poignant. He writes:

Inscriptions in books, even by the unknown, have the effect of reminding us that we are necessarily part of something bigger, and altogether grander, than ourselves. Inscriptions are, of course, intimations of mortality, for they are mostly by people who are dead but who wrote them with all the same disregard of death with which we pursue of own present moments.

So provoked, I was browsing around the less fly-ridden and picturesque internet in response, and wandered into The Book Inscriptions Project. Their entries, like the one above, are as irresistible to me as anything bite-sized and varied enough, I believe, to charm any palate.

Do you have favorite discoveries in your used collection? Scan and Send!

The Only Things to Fear

The door's nothing much, but the interior (seen below) is homey.

Thanks to this therapeutic blog, I know I'm not alone in feeling vulnerable to wording bugaboos. In me, linguistic alarm calls for a run to my cozy bunker and the blandishments of a friendly gin. But anytini, researchers at Oxford University, never cowards, have not only ranked their adversaries but publicized them. At the end of the day, I think you'll find it a fairly unique collection.

But can we be sure it's completely safe to list the ten most irritating phrases together this way? Isn't it a bit like imprisoning the most evil enemies of the Justice League all together in the same, minimum-security facility? Is this, in fact, the literary equivalent of spinning and saying Bloody Mary out loud three times into a dark mirror? I'm too petrified to find out, lest the fiendish star of my own nightmares (currently occupying the #8 slot) further propagates.

Did they include your nemesis? If not, from the comforts of your own reinforced shelter, please dare to share.

Two Forgotten Books

In honor of the oral historian Studs Terkel, whose passing I mourned here, I am bringing two oral histories by Mark Baker to your attention.

In 1981, the book Nam: The Vietnam War in the Words of the Men and the Women Who Fought There was released. (The cover picture I use here is from the 1992 edition.) The war had not been over very long and most of America wanted to think about it as ancient history or better yet, not think about it at all. So, a lot of vets came home, went on with their lives and never told their story, largely because no one ever asked. Once Nam hit the book shelves, it was like “permission to speak freely” was finally granted to the members of my generation who served so well.

Four years later, Mark Baker wrote Cops: Their Lives in Their Own Words. Police Officers are one of the groups we think speak only among themselves. But in this book, they are very open about their work and their lives. Policing has changed over the past twenty years and I wouldn’t use this book as research on procedure, but if you what to know how cops think and how they respond to what they see, you will enjoy reading Cops.

For links to other Forgotten Books click on over to Patti Abbot’s blog.

Friday Fun - November 7, 2008

SANTA BARBARA, California - Real Crime:

A career criminal was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison under California's three-strikes law for stealing $11 worth of wine, lip balm and breath freshener.

At trial, his lawyer said Herrera has a brain injury that made him forget to pay for the items.

Superior Court Judge Frank Ochoa called Ronald Herrera, 57, one of the worst criminals to pass through his courtroom, and prosecutor Darryl Perlin said: "He's what the three-strikes law is all about."

He was sentenced Thursday for burglary and petty theft at a supermarket.

Three strikes and you're out? Seems ironic that Herrera's past record lists 17 serious felonies, including a 1971 home-invasion robbery and rape of a woman and her 15-year-old daughter, the shooting of a police dispatcher, and six armed robberies in Virginia. All it took was $11 worth of wine, lip balm and breath freshener to put Herrera out of commission - 25 years to life in prison.

Thanks to www.legal-forms-kit.com

Thanks for the zap of humor, Uncle Jimmy!

Thaaaaat’s all, pals!

Feeling the future...

I hope I’m offending no one by referring to the election, but it seems only right to mention the glorious language that helped Obama to win it.

And speaking of elections and language, a friend reminds me, the morning after, that there is an Ani DiFranco song that goes: "Walking up to the edge and jumping in, like you can feel the future on your skin." My friend says, “That's what it feels like today.”

Yes, it does.

- Lois

Unity Art Print by Monica Stewart www.allposters.com

He Said, She Said, They Said, We All Said

A week and a half ago, my Long Island writing group met for its Nano kickoff meeting. We had about two dozen people present, most of our core group of regulars as well as a bunch just passing through for the November festivities. Some of both groups were Nano veterans, and some were newbies.

The meeting went like most other Nano kickoff meetings. We all introduced ourselves and described our projects, and the two municipal liaisons explained the Nano basics. Nothing unusual. Until the MLs asked if anyone had any questions or concerns.

Did anyone ask where to get ideas, how to construct scenes, or how to update the word counts on the Nano website? No, no, and no. The one and only concern expressed was about the word "said." The young man hates the word, he said. He tries not to use it. Ever. Instead, he prefers to use tags such as "stated," "whispered," "shouted," "mumbled," "uttered," and all the other substitutes offered by Webster and Roget. Is this okay?

Someone else suggested not using anything. If each character's dialogue is distinctive enough, no tags are needed; the writer will have done his/her job.

All of to which the editor in me says: Arghh!

The beauty of "said" is that it's an invisible word. Readers don't notice it. It does its job, helping to identify the speaker of a piece of dialogue, but it does so quietly, unobtrusively. It's like the administrative assistant without whom the boss can't function, but who always stays in the background, letting the boss take all the glory. Words like "mumbled" and "whispered" are peacocks. Rather than forcing the writer to show, they facilitate telling. How boring. Once in a while, the variety of a "shouted" or "uttered" is welcome. All the time, however, and the tags and the dialogue become mundane. Sometimes they even become laughable.

Using no tags at all is even worse. While authors may be able to identify their own characters by how they said what they said, readers often don't get to know the characters well enough. Short dialogue sometimes doesn't even have enough room for quirks. And when the conversation goes on for more than several lines, or worse, when it includes more than two characters, an absence of tags can make for enough confusion that the story can become ruined. When readers have to stop to scratch their heads, wondering who said this and who said that, or have to reread and reread again in an attempt to figure it out, the spell is broken; the book's days are numbered.

Therefore, whether or not you're participating in Nano this November, don't stress about the word "said." Don't spend valuable time looking for substitutes. Just go ahead and use "said"--again and again and again. Believe me, no one will notice.

Two Sentence Tuesday -- NaNo Edition 1

Well, it's November, and, as Clare pointed out, for many of the Women of Mystery, that means National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. That means you, dear reader, are probably going to be subjected to a few weeks of really ghastly sentences. At least, those from me. So I apologize in advance.

For me, NaNo has started with a most peculiar situation. I'm almost done with the book I have been working on for some time, so for NaNo, I decided to write a sequel. The genre is Romantic Suspense, and the series would be a sort of ensemble thing, with different characters getting lead roles in different books. That's it. That's all I knew when I sat down for my first session.

I now have about 3200 words, and I don't know much more than that. I know who the main characters are, but I don't have a plot. Sheesh.

Anyway, here are my two sentences for the week:

She led the way down the short hall to the oversized room. They didn’t need the sixteen-seat capacity conference table, but they did need, or at least might need, the electronics.

This week I read, from Anne Bishop's Daughter of the Blood:

In the autumn twilight, Saetan studied the Sanctuary, a forgotten place of crumbling stone, alive with small vermin and memories. Yet within this place was a Dark Altar, one of the thirteen Gates that linked the Realms of Terreille, Kaeleer, and Hell.

Election Day 2008

My mother always believed that you should vote early in the morning, so that if you got hit by a bus, or felled by a heart attack or some other calamity, your vote would still be counted. She would have loved all these early voting rules.

So if you haven't already voted, what are you doing reading this? Go vote. Right now.

Then you can come back here and play Election Incrimination until we start watching the results.

The above picture is from the site of the Clerk's Office in Hamburg, Michigan.

Terrie

MTM: Election Fun in Mamaroneck

I apologize for all the glare, but the window above is at my local groomer, the estimable Shampooch in Mamaroneck, NY. Please don't feel left out if you're voting Labertarian, IndePugdant, or even pawing-in your own catidate, it's a pretty small storefront.

It's NaNo!

National Novel Writing Month is upon us again, and five of us Women of Mystery will be participating! The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. That averages to 1,667 words per day, or about 7 manuscript pages.

It's free to join in the fun, and your misery will have the company of over one hundred thousand other mad scribes from all over who commiserate in online forums and even meet in person for local write-ins. The NaNo website tends to get a little sluggish early in the month as everyone's logging their word counts for the first time, but we'll eventually have linked progress charts on our sidebar as we go along. Let us know if you're NaNo-ing, too, and Happy Verbiage!

P.S. The image has nothing to do with NaNo, but it's cool and full of wonder, the way I always start NaNo even if I finish overcaffeinated and hagged-out. If you know who I ought to attribute, please let me know.

2-4-2s Day

From Peggy Ehrhart's SWEET MAN IS GONE, (see yesterday's post) here’s her protagonist's view of the library, very unlike any library I ever saw:

“It turns out to be a building I always thought was a church, perched on the corner right after the Indian Imports store, set off by a tidy square of faded late-summer grass and a few aggressively pruned bushes. It’s squat but massive at the same time, shaped out of dark brown stone, rough-hewed, with deep windows that look like they don’t let in much light."

And, from something I (re)wrote this past week, I return to Zanzibar: "Flies buzzed greedily over the carcass. The old woman wondered how many spiders labored in her thatched roof, full of plans for feasting on the gluttonous, stupid flies."

Studs Terkel

Every where you turn this weekend you will find homage being paid to Pulitzer winner Studs Terkel, who passed away this week at aged 96. Over at the New York Times, William Grimes writes about Studs Terkel, Listener to America. And that is exactly who Terkel was. He was the guy who listened to what people had to say and then wrote it down in a way that made the rest of us want to read it, to find out what everyone else was thinking. Much of the history of the twentieth century will be authentically recorded because Terkel asked the right questions of the people who lived those eventful decades.

Last spring I wrote a Forgotten Book Friday post on The Great Divide, Terkel's oral history about life in the United States at the end of the Reagan era. but my favorite of all his books is Hard Times: an Oral History of the Great Depression, which, thirty eight years after publication, is ranked at #128 on Amazon's sales lists.

I heard on one of the newscasts that Terkel claimed to have always be curious and I, for one, am thankful for his curiosity. I have learned valuable lessons through Terkel's curiosity and I'm sure I'm not alone.

Terrie