Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Of Good and Evil...

Yesterday didn't produce the writing results I wanted. Reading yesterday's chapter was a humiliating experience - I don't think I've produced such a totally off-the-wall scramble of the alphabet in a while. Cogitating on my literary mess, I came to the conclusion there was only one sane thing to do. Hit the copy and delete buttons. Gone.

So I started thinking about how it all went awry, and the answer was staring me in the face. I didn't know this bad guy, and this was his chapter. He has a role in the story that's rather important, and I've been blithely using him to further the character arc for everyone else. Now, however, it's critical mass time, and he's going to explode on me if I don't come up with his character arc and add some humanity to his denouement. I've been dancing around his evil because, in a way, I don't want him to be lost. But by toning him down, I've lost what made him delicious in the first place. So it's time to get some . . . .and do what I know has to be done.

Played hooky and spent an hour at the track yesterday afternoon as the Busch drivers tested for the May race. Busch drivers is quite a misnomer - I think they were all Cup drivers out there yesterday. The COT tests next week, so you know where I'll be - checking that ugly puppy out. Hey, even ugly puppies grow on you. So do wicked bad guys, sigh. I so want to like my evil character. Can't let it happen.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

The stands were cold!

The night of the truck race, it wasn't warm!

My honey and I snuggle up to share the heat. Great race! Travis Kvapil shoulda won...

Daytona Pix!

Here're a few - just for fun. Hard to believe how cold it was one night (the truck races were in the 30's), and how warm it was during the Busch race in the afternoon. Anyway, more pictures will follow when I get a second. This is the crowd rolling into turn 1 after the start.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007


A couple of weekends ago, I spoke to the Chesapeake Sisters in Crime chapter about "Clues" - how to use them, etc., when writing mysteries. Using a Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston short story from an anthology titled THRILLER, I learned as much as the SinC group. The story's name is "Gone Fishing," and if you want to be surprised, read it. I counted five possible suspects, all logical, all creepy. The real culprit was there, but so cleverly hidden, albeit front and center in an unexpected way, that I couldn't guess "who done it." Give it a read, and see if you agree with me.

The group gave me a glass ornament filled with alphabet beads. I was confused until I read the tag tied to it: "Contains one Edgar (c) Award Winning Novel: Some Assembly Required." I laughed until I cried. So true. There're only so many letters in the alphabet, and we all use them. It's HOW we use them.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Holding on for dear life...

Where is spring? My poor daffodils droop like kindergartners told there'll be no recess. At least it means I'm in my office, working my fanny off. (Well, there's always hope, LOL, that the rear end will reduce because I'm writing, but I'm not holding my breath.) Working on a fun project is a good feeling - I love it when the words pour out onto the screen, and when I look up, it's dark outside and the family is looking for food from the kitchen, which isn't there. Food, not the kitchen.

LIES on LONGCREEK is turning into an intriguing project, with so many elements working their strands I'm braiding words like a macrame artist. LOLA sits while I let the first draft work its issues to the fore so I can read it with clearer vision. All in all, a great writing week.

Can't wait to see what happens at Bristol when they run the Car of Tomorrow (or Car of Today, more accurately.) The inimitable Mark Martin HAS to drive, if he's still riding No. 1 in the points.

Oh, just bought the new Bob Segar CD - and it's all new songs with all the p**s and vinegar of vintage rock. The real deal. LOVE it! The sad news is, I can't think of a radio format that'll play him except XM or Sirius.