Under the Lights

May 1, and the furnace is still running. EEK. I'm praying for warmth and lots of sun for this weekend's Richmond races. Can't wait - RIR is the best short track, bar none, and racing under the lights is magic. Watching testing a couple of weeks ago during daylight hours was interesting and fun, but nothing like the real deal when the lights pop on and night waves its wand over the racers. I'll report back about the festivities - we're taking our youngest and her best friends to the track for her high school graduation present, complete with pit passes. Yes, my baby will be out of high school and on her way to architecture school at VPI in a few months. Where has time gone? I'm going to miss my racin' child, but we'll pick her up for local races close to her university, so it's not as if she's disappearing. At least, that's what I tell myself....

Now back to work on the action/adventure/romance. I'm dying to see how these two, Matt and Frankie, figure out they can trust each other. Trust is the first step to love for them, but it's going to be a long row to hoe. I believe in making life hard for my characters, on the theory that they have to earn their right to happiness. Working hard for the good stuff makes for a better story and better people, in life as well as in fiction.

MD Report

Malice Domestic was its usual fun and continues to be one of the conferences I always enjoy. Talking with readers is a highlight, as well as chatting with the other writers. The ladies on the "Legal Attitudes" panel were more fun than should be legal, and I can't wait to meet up with them somewhere, sometime in the future. I hope you all get a chance to attend in the future. Next year's date is the first weekend in May, I believe, at the Marriott Marquis in Washington, D.C. Now that I'm home and the new printer is up and running, I'm hard at work on a fun book - more action/adventure with romance thrown into the mix.

Malice Domestic this Weekend!

I'm heading out the door this weekend for Malice Domestic in Washington, D.C. Hope to see some friends, chat with mystery lovers, and buy tons of books to add to my TBR pile(s). (To Be Read = TBR) I'm on a panel titled "Legal Attitudes" on Sunday morning, with a booksigning following around 10:00 a.m. Last year's conference was a lot of fun, mostly because the attendees are so great. There's nothing I love more than talking about books with other people who love them as much as I do. If you live in the area and love mysteries, you can register on site. (It's a bit more expensive, but worth the money.) I'll report back about the conference when I'm home.

Shame on NBC

My imagination has been seized by another story, and the research is drawing me in as swiftly and surely as Kasey Kahne did Tony Stewart in last week's race. Speaking of races, Martinsville was its usual interesting bang-em-up paperclip racing. A lovely day, bare chested men burning their winter-white skin, tailgating on a 50 degree hill, yes, it was a classic Martinsville experience. Speaking of which, I'm still fuming over NBC's attempt to create a 'situation' by importing Muslim-looking men and fitting them with hidden mikes. The only conclusion I can draw is that NBC believes all NASCAR fans are redneck loudmouths with a surfeit of racism. As I read what happened, it was a bust for NBC. No one paid any attention to bearded men in robes and funny hats. The guys were checking out the girls in their summer halter tops, more likely. And the girls were checking out hunky Carl Edwards and cute Kasey Kahne. That's what makes NASCAR racing great - the only controversy is over who bumped who on the track and was it a racing move or revenge? The sell-out crowd was there to see good racing, and until Kasey blew an engine, that's what they got. Why try to spoil a fun day by inciting an 'incident?' Shame on NBC. Believe me, the tattoos, pink and green hair dye, and umpteen different kinds of people didn't draw any attention - the racing did. And that's how it should be.

Letting Go

I'm in the throes of ripping out whole chunks of my current WIP (work in progress), not because the writing stinks, but because these chapters don't help drive the story forward. Ouch. As tempted as I am to save these wonderful words (my designation, LOL), I find it's easier to send them into the black hole of the delete button so I'm not tempted to try to work them in somewhere else in the book. That ploy has never worked for me, so it's better and less painful to say a fond adieu and hit the death key. Sigh. I know it's for the best, but . . . .

It's the same with my closets. Packed to the gills with the extraneous. I've toyed with the idea of a mass throw-away. A wholesale tossing of stuff no one cares about. However, there's one problem with my resolve to make more space. In my family, one line of women were sewers. Their creative talents showed up in smocked baby dresses, embroidered blouses, and elegant gowns that have been passed down through the generations. When my oldest child had to dress as her book character for a book report in the third grade, I found a 1930s dress for her to wear as she pretended to be Beverly Cleary. The other daughter discovered an original Hawaiian 1930s gown to wear to a dance, a style and era that fit her curvy figure perfectly. The same daughter wanted a graduation dress that wasn't like everyone else's (they have to wear long, white, and no cap and gown), so we shopped for a pattern and fabric to her liking. It's finished (thank goodness, well before the big day), and she brags to everyone how she and her mother made her dress. I'm sure her friends think she's insane for not buying a wedding dress, which is the norm for this crowd. She'll be the one in a simple white eyelet sundress she helped sew. One day, she'll find that dress in the back of a closet, and it'll bring back memories I hope she'll cherish. So for now, I've talked myself out of tossing the closet contents.

Unlike my story-stopping chapters, they can stay.

spring, Fast Openings, and Malice Domestic

The first day of spring, and my favorite time of year is about to bloom. After the freezing rain and snow, of course. My daffodils and the forsythia should survive, and the tulips are still a few weeks away, so they’ll be okay. I can’t wait for the azaleas and trees to burst out. Of course, better weather creates a dilemma for a writer. The alluring scent of new mulch and bright green grass is a huge temptation for those of us who like to play in the outdoors. We’ll see how much resistance I can muster.

I heard a talk by the incomparable Merline Lovelace a couple of weeks ago and was very grateful for her comments about how to start a story. I know what to do - get into the story with a solid swan dive. But for some reason, I always have to work out about forty pages before the story starts. The current work-in-progress has had at least five opening incarnations - a record for me. And I’m still not happy with it. Merline reminded me of the basic truth I’ve always worked with, and I just need to take a strong hand to the first three chapters and delete like crazy. Easier said than done, LOL.

Oh, I just received my panel assignment for Malice Domestic. Nine a.m. on Sunday, the 23rd of April, with a book signing to follow at ten a.m. Yes, the River Knows has been out since December, so maybe those of you who’ve read it would like to stop by and tell me what you think. I’d love to see you!

Killing Characters

I've been struggling this week with a plot device that has nipped me in the nether regions once before. In my Kiowa western series, a full-blown character rose from the computer screen to protest his imminent demise. He told me in no uncertain terms I couldn't kill him off. I relented and let him live, although his death would have made a great scene.

Since mysteries are focused on murder and mayhem, I haven't had this problem - until yesterday. I sat down to write the murder scene for a character to whom I've become inordinately attached. She's solid, living, and needed to die to propel the action. Couldn't do it. Just couldn't leave her dead in the fields of Culvert County. Instead, I gave her a reprieve by telling myself I could use her in another way, and proceeded to shoot a secondary character. He'll have to get a bigger role in rewrites to make his death serve the same plot function as Elnora's would have, but at least I skipped over the dilemma of losing Elnora.

This power-of-life-and-death thing is scary, sometimes. When and if you meet Elnora, congratulate her on her ability to take her own destiny into her fictional hands, and let me know if I did the right thing for the story by reprieving her. I sure hope so.