This blog isn't so much about defining point of view but more about when and why. Also based on Becoming Your Own Critique Partner by Toombs and Walters.
We titled this chapter "Don't follow the Bouncing Heads. Part of the reason came from judging a contest when an aspiring author managed to get three points of views in one sentence and four in the paragraph. When an author choses a particular point of view they are showing what this character sees, thinks and feels. If shifting too frequently, the reader begins to feel like they have whiplash or are playing who's on first. We all know there is first person, I, second person, you, and third person, he/she. First person is both the easiest and the hardest to write. Easy because the writer can become the character. Hard because the I character tends to go off on tangents and to forget about the purpose of the story. Second person is seldom used in fiction but often in non-fiction. Most stories are done in third person and may be limited to a few characters or to step into the minds of many. The writer must decide what is right for the story they are telling.
Things to remember about changing POVs. Change when another character's vision is needed.. Allow enough time when changing to let the reader settle into a second person's shoes. Changing paragraph to paragraph and there comes the tennis ball volley. The length of the novel can also define how many characters heads the author is delving into. In a short work, too many POVs like too many cooks tend to spoil the action. Also make sure the POV character has a role to play in the story and isn't just a casual walk on.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Susan Palmquist - Interview
Today's interview is with Susan Palmquist. Met her on line. I'm not sure but I think we're exchanging interviews. Hope you enjoy.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Erotic romance, romantic suspense, paranormal and some erotica.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
A little of both. I enjoy writing them and editors seem to like the stories too.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Maybe a horror…one day. I don’t think I’d try literary.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Mysteries, suspense, romance.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. I’m very driven and sometimes when a story is going really well I can get lost for hours.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I really like Andy from my current release, Mistaken Identity.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
No, villains. I like to create characters who are sometimes their own worst enemies.
8. What are you working on now?
I actually have two projects in the works, an erotic paranormal and also a younger man, older woman story. Part of is set on the island of Mallorca.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
It’s Mistaken Identity. The idea came about when I visualized the heroine breaking into a safe in this guy’s house. It was going to be a mystery but then evolved into an erotic romance.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
It was an idea that was in my head for many months. I played around with a few ideas and wrote it. Then with some feedback from one of my critique partners, I changed some of the plot and back story.
Hannah’s hands shook. She’d never done anything like this before and wasn’t sure if she had the nerve to go through with it. Her instructions were to enter the house, then walk up the stairs to the master bedroom. There would be a painting of a vase of flowers on the wall and behind it a safe that she’d need to open.
Then the game would begin.
She lifted the painting off the wall and sat it on the floor. Glancing at her palm, she checked the combination sequence. Twenty-three right, thirty-two left and then nineteen right. Taking a deep breath, she turned the dial to number twenty-three. How had her friends managed to talk her into doing something like this?
A bead of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She turned the lock right to nineteen, causing the safe door to spring open and almost hit her in the face. Inside sat a box of condoms, some DVDs and a pair of stockings and garters.
Yeah, she’d made a mistake, all right. She swallowed twice. Could she do this?
Her hand hovered near the button she’d been instructed to push when she was ready to move to level two of the game.
“Hold it right there,” a man’s voice said.
She jumped.
She hadn’t pressed the button yet, so how did he know she was ready?
Was she ready? No, she didn’t think she had the nerve for this.
“Okay, turn around very slowly. And keep your hands up in the air where I can see them at all times.”
Okay, this was it. She couldn’t get out of it now, could she?
“Looks like I’ve been caught red handed,” she said, turning around.
Her best friends had assured her he was cute, but they’d lied. This guy was drop-dead gorgeous. Six foot two, maybe even three, broad shoulders, light brown hair, green eyes…just the opposite of Brad.
Why had she thought of him immediately upon setting eyes on this man? He was out of the picture now. She had to keep reminding herself of that little fact. Brad was history and this was her night.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
They’d told her if she played along with everything this guy said and asked her to do, it would add to her enjoyment. Here was her first opportunity.
“I didn’t steal anything from the safe. You can search me if you want.”
He walked over to the safe, looked inside and then rummaged through its contents.
“Okay, turn around, put your hands up on the wall and spread your legs.”
He sounded so official, just like a real cop or even a security guard. This guy was good.
Hannah placed her palms on the wall while spreading her legs wide apart.
What was coming next?
Would she chicken out as soon as his hands touched her?
She felt his warm breath close to her ear as he patted her down. He tapped her breasts but didn’t linger on them like she’d expected. He then made his way over her stomach. Next each leg was patted down. She closed her eyes.
She’d been nervous for nothing. This was already fun.
“Slowly turn back around and face me.”
Hannah did as he asked.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Erotic romance, romantic suspense, paranormal and some erotica.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
A little of both. I enjoy writing them and editors seem to like the stories too.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Maybe a horror…one day. I don’t think I’d try literary.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Mysteries, suspense, romance.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. I’m very driven and sometimes when a story is going really well I can get lost for hours.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I really like Andy from my current release, Mistaken Identity.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
No, villains. I like to create characters who are sometimes their own worst enemies.
8. What are you working on now?
I actually have two projects in the works, an erotic paranormal and also a younger man, older woman story. Part of is set on the island of Mallorca.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
It’s Mistaken Identity. The idea came about when I visualized the heroine breaking into a safe in this guy’s house. It was going to be a mystery but then evolved into an erotic romance.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
It was an idea that was in my head for many months. I played around with a few ideas and wrote it. Then with some feedback from one of my critique partners, I changed some of the plot and back story.
Hannah’s hands shook. She’d never done anything like this before and wasn’t sure if she had the nerve to go through with it. Her instructions were to enter the house, then walk up the stairs to the master bedroom. There would be a painting of a vase of flowers on the wall and behind it a safe that she’d need to open.
Then the game would begin.
She lifted the painting off the wall and sat it on the floor. Glancing at her palm, she checked the combination sequence. Twenty-three right, thirty-two left and then nineteen right. Taking a deep breath, she turned the dial to number twenty-three. How had her friends managed to talk her into doing something like this?
A bead of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She turned the lock right to nineteen, causing the safe door to spring open and almost hit her in the face. Inside sat a box of condoms, some DVDs and a pair of stockings and garters.
Yeah, she’d made a mistake, all right. She swallowed twice. Could she do this?
Her hand hovered near the button she’d been instructed to push when she was ready to move to level two of the game.
“Hold it right there,” a man’s voice said.
She jumped.
She hadn’t pressed the button yet, so how did he know she was ready?
Was she ready? No, she didn’t think she had the nerve for this.
“Okay, turn around very slowly. And keep your hands up in the air where I can see them at all times.”
Okay, this was it. She couldn’t get out of it now, could she?
“Looks like I’ve been caught red handed,” she said, turning around.
Her best friends had assured her he was cute, but they’d lied. This guy was drop-dead gorgeous. Six foot two, maybe even three, broad shoulders, light brown hair, green eyes…just the opposite of Brad.
Why had she thought of him immediately upon setting eyes on this man? He was out of the picture now. She had to keep reminding herself of that little fact. Brad was history and this was her night.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
They’d told her if she played along with everything this guy said and asked her to do, it would add to her enjoyment. Here was her first opportunity.
“I didn’t steal anything from the safe. You can search me if you want.”
He walked over to the safe, looked inside and then rummaged through its contents.
“Okay, turn around, put your hands up on the wall and spread your legs.”
He sounded so official, just like a real cop or even a security guard. This guy was good.
Hannah placed her palms on the wall while spreading her legs wide apart.
What was coming next?
Would she chicken out as soon as his hands touched her?
She felt his warm breath close to her ear as he patted her down. He tapped her breasts but didn’t linger on them like she’d expected. He then made his way over her stomach. Next each leg was patted down. She closed her eyes.
She’d been nervous for nothing. This was already fun.
“Slowly turn back around and face me.”
Hannah did as he asked.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Action and reaction -- Character development
This may be something I remember from physics or it may not be since that is the only college course I failed to ace. I did not fail but nearly. For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. For characters part of this may not be true though I;m not sure.
Just what is an action in fictional works. The action can be physical or verbal, usually. If someone slugs the hero or heroine with fists or with words, the hero or heroine is going to react. This reaction can tell you much about the character.
Since much of the way I develop my characters is by using a bit of Astrology, their reactions are usually geared to their signs. An Aries would hit back and usually not with words. A Scorpio wouldn't get mad but they would get even. These are just examples of reactions.
The kind of action the character chooses will also delineate their character. Are they upfront, subtle or some variation of these two. An action can be deliberate or unintentional. We all know people who open their mouth only to shove their foot inside. There are some people who will never act openly.
An action or reaction can come from outside the character or be an internal one. Think of how people operate during an emergency. Some panic and some take charge. Or when a value is challenged. Some may act in the open and some may do so in secret.
When developing your characters, imagine how they would react in a given situation and when putting them into action, think of how this particular character would act or react.
Just what is an action in fictional works. The action can be physical or verbal, usually. If someone slugs the hero or heroine with fists or with words, the hero or heroine is going to react. This reaction can tell you much about the character.
Since much of the way I develop my characters is by using a bit of Astrology, their reactions are usually geared to their signs. An Aries would hit back and usually not with words. A Scorpio wouldn't get mad but they would get even. These are just examples of reactions.
The kind of action the character chooses will also delineate their character. Are they upfront, subtle or some variation of these two. An action can be deliberate or unintentional. We all know people who open their mouth only to shove their foot inside. There are some people who will never act openly.
An action or reaction can come from outside the character or be an internal one. Think of how people operate during an emergency. Some panic and some take charge. Or when a value is challenged. Some may act in the open and some may do so in secret.
When developing your characters, imagine how they would react in a given situation and when putting them into action, think of how this particular character would act or react.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Bird By Bird - Inspiration
For the next few weeks, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott will be my inspiration. I actually heard her speak at a PAN retreat during an RWA convention and I must admit I felt spellbound and went out to buy the book.
In her introduction I found three things that struck home then and still do to day. The first is what happens when you see something you've written in print for the first time. "It provides some sort of primal verification: you are in print, therefore you exist. I think that explains the feeling. The great thing is that this happens every time a new book you've written appears on the shelf.
Another piece of advice that proves true is something her father said. "Do it every day." This is something I've tried to complete. In fact, I find if I go for too many days without writing I become cranky. What one is doing when they write even if it's no more than a paragraph is establishing a habit. Once established, a habit is hard to break.
"Publication is not all that it is cracked up to be. But writing is." She's correct here. For me the reward for writing is not the money or the awards but the entering another world peopled by characters I know as well as myself. That's because every character contains a bit of myself.
How about you? Do you agree with the things I've pulled from this book that push me to write every day. Why? Because that's what I am.
In her introduction I found three things that struck home then and still do to day. The first is what happens when you see something you've written in print for the first time. "It provides some sort of primal verification: you are in print, therefore you exist. I think that explains the feeling. The great thing is that this happens every time a new book you've written appears on the shelf.
Another piece of advice that proves true is something her father said. "Do it every day." This is something I've tried to complete. In fact, I find if I go for too many days without writing I become cranky. What one is doing when they write even if it's no more than a paragraph is establishing a habit. Once established, a habit is hard to break.
"Publication is not all that it is cracked up to be. But writing is." She's correct here. For me the reward for writing is not the money or the awards but the entering another world peopled by characters I know as well as myself. That's because every character contains a bit of myself.
How about you? Do you agree with the things I've pulled from this book that push me to write every day. Why? Because that's what I am.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Writing week - Dec 27
This will be the last post of the year so I've been looking at what this year has brought writing wise. I finished a novella that I thoroughly hated after the edits were finished. I still don't like it but at least it's out of my hands. I completed The Warriors of Bast and cleaned up a few old manuscripts that were released by their publishers. Five of them are live again. Mistress of the Moons, Healwoman Dark Moon, Murder and Mint Tea, Requiem Murder and The Midas Murders. I saw The Hudson House murders go live. And The Henge Betrayed -- Refuge came into being. I've been working on The Henge Betrayed -- Confrontations and have begun working on the fourth section and that means just one to go. Perhaps I'll finish it before Quests comes out. Target date for that is sometime in the third quarter of this year.
What really pleases me the most is the number of my writing friends who are published for the first time this year and the ones who are published once again. Always makes me feel good to see this happening so Congrats to them.
What really pleases me the most is the number of my writing friends who are published for the first time this year and the ones who are published once again. Always makes me feel good to see this happening so Congrats to them.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
3 Blog Visit Sunday
Blog visits again. Three ones you might enjoy.
http://taoofliz.blogspot.com/ Here is a clever blog. The blogger is also a writer but one who finds interesting women who make quotes. She also talks about writine gand shows the romance in many interesting ways.
http://wendymarcus.blogspot.com This blog is titled Must have Romance, The writer is a soon to be pulbished writer and a fellow nurse. She has much about learning the ropes in this crazy career called writing.
http://dailyfrombookswelove.blogspot.com/ Here is a blog where a group of writers often post excerpts of their books and one where new authors and books to read may be found.
http://taoofliz.blogspot.com/ Here is a clever blog. The blogger is also a writer but one who finds interesting women who make quotes. She also talks about writine gand shows the romance in many interesting ways.
http://wendymarcus.blogspot.com This blog is titled Must have Romance, The writer is a soon to be pulbished writer and a fellow nurse. She has much about learning the ropes in this crazy career called writing.
http://dailyfrombookswelove.blogspot.com/ Here is a blog where a group of writers often post excerpts of their books and one where new authors and books to read may be found.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
First chapter Saturday - The Hudson House Murders
Katherine Miller solves another murder, actually a series of them, by going undercove at a nursing home for the well-off. This is my latest release.
The Hudson House Murders
By Janet Lane Walters
DiskUs Publishing
Chapter 1
Virus Attack
The sun of the early April day shone in a cloudless sky. Yesterday’s rain had left the ground moist and easy for digging. Daffodils and tulips added color to the scene and delight to my spirits. I knelt beside one of the mint patches and loosened the soul around the emerging shoots. Soon the numerous varieties would be high and provide leaves for drying and blending into teas. This year, I planned to use green tea as a base in some of the blends.
I pulled weeds, then sank back to admire my work. My Maine Coon cat lay beside the gardening mat. With a boneless movement, Robespierre stretched. I sighed with envy and wished I had his supple spine. He ambled toward the car pulling into the driveway.
Jenna Taylor, one of my first floor tenants, slid from the red hatchback and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Miller.”
I rose and gathered my tools. “How was class?”
She grinned. “Thanks for your help on the Psych paper. Got an A.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Her hazel eyes filled with sadness. “You’re the only one.” She took the basket and carried it to the porch of my “Painted Lady.”
The Victorian house I’d lived in since my dead husband and I had settled in this Hudson Valley village had been converted into two apartments. I chose the second floor with its view of the river and rented the first. A week after my return from Santa Fe, I’d acquired Jenna and her friend as tenants. The young women were students at the local college, Jenna in Nursing and Louise in Business.
I paused at the foot of the steps. “Why don’t you call your grandmother? I’m sure she’d be glad to see you and as proud of your accomplishments as I am.”
She shook her head. “And bring my problems with my uncle on her head. He hated my mother. After my dad died, Mom asked him for help and he refused.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You should have heard the things he accused me of after my cousin’s death. I’m better off staying away from family.”
I touched her hand. “The accident was five years ago. Surely he’s over the loss by now.”
She combed her fingers through her short honey blonde hair. “He never forgives or forgets.” She handed me the basket. “Have to change for work. See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I echoed and followed her inside. Robespierre trailed me upstairs. There, I spilled a little food in his dish. He thinks he should be fed every time he returns from outside. I always indulge him by adding a few dry tidbits.
I put the kettle on. I hurt for Jenna. She’d seen more tragedy in twenty-three years than anyone should bear. Her father’s death, her mother’s alcoholism and series of abusive relationships. Orphaned at fourteen, she’d gone to live with her grandmother. Three years later, there’d been the accident and her cousin had died. For some reason I hadn’t learned until recently, Jenna had become a runaway.
In January, I learned from an acquaintance who taught at the college that Jenna had enrolled as a student and was looking for an apartment. When she was a child, I’d felt sorry for her and angry about the way her uncle had treated her. I offered her the first floor apartment at a reduced rate and had signed a lease with the girls. Over the past few months, Jenna and I have become friends.
After a quick wash-up, I brewed a pot of mint tea. Robespierre began his greeting dance. Before I had a chance to see who had arrived, the cat slipped through his door. When I saw him on the landing with my young friend, Robby, I called a greeting.
“Mrs. Miller, can I visit?” Robby asked. “I need to ask you something really important.”
“Over milk and cookies?”
He nodded. “Mom said I can have three.”
“How does peanut butter with chocolate chips sound?” His grin provided my answer.
“Oh, yes.” He bent and scratched Robespierre’s head. The large cat rumbled like the sound of distant thunder.
Once the ritual greeting ended, three cookies and a glass of milk waited on the table. Robby pulled a stool to the sink and washed his hands. “See. I ‘membered.”
“So you did.” While he ate the first cookie, I filled a mug and sat across the table from him. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
He propped his elbows on the table. “How can a boy be happy his grandma died? If I had one, I’d be sad.”
I sipped the tea. “That’s a hard question. Want to tell me how you learned the boy was happy about her death?”
He leaned forward. “He’s in my class. Always saying bad things ‘bout her. Said she was rich and mean ‘cause she wouldn’t buy him all the toys he wanted.”
“Sounds like he’s greedy.”
Robby’s head bobbed. “He sure is. Always saying how his things are better than mine ‘cause they cost more.”
“So why was he happy she died?”
“’Cause his mom and dad don’t fight with his grandma ‘bout her money. They got it all.”
I cradled the mug. “Is he happy now?”
“Guess so. He says so but he’s still mean.” Robby reached for a second cookie. “He got a new bike and lots of video games. He’s gonna live in a big new house. They can ‘ford a new one ‘cause no more money goes to that place.”
“What place?”
“You know, the one on the river where old people go. Our class went there once to sing. They liked us.”
“Hudson House?”
“Yep.”
The private nursing home is where the rich of the area go to recover from surgery or to spend their final years. The boy’s grandmother must have had the means to pay for the luxurious service. I patted Robby’s hand. “I’m not sure I have answers for your questions. I’m not sure there are any.”
He looked up. “If I had a grandma, she’d be just like you.”
“Thank you.” I patted his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t I become your adopted grandma?”
His eyes widened. “You really could be mine. Like the puppy Pete said we’ll ‘dopt from the shelter.”
Being compared to a puppy tickled my thoughts. Laughter brought tears to my eyes. “Since I’m an experienced grandmother, I won’t need training in how to behave. The puppy will.”
He jumped up and hugged me. A frown wrinkled his forehead. Mom says I have to call you Mrs. Miller. A grandma should be called Grandma.” He bit the third cookie and swallowed. “I know. You can be Grandma Mrs. Miller. Wait ‘til I tell Mom and
Pete.”
Before he left, I gave him a tin of cookies. “Make sure you share.”
“Have to.” He giggled. “Pete would chase me around the table making pig sounds. I’m glad Mom married him.” He tucked the tin under his arm and opened the door. Robespierre dashed ahead of him. “Bye, Grandma Mrs. Miller.”
Just then, Jenna stepped from the downstairs apartment. “What was that about?”
“He wanted a grandmother so I adopted him.”
“That’s so nice.” Her voice broke.
“Come to church with me on Sunday.” Her grandmother was a member of St. Stephen’s. So was I. Martha Garner and I had become friends when we worked on several Women’s Guild projects. I know she often wondered what had happened to Jenna. Though I’d wanted to tell Martha about her granddaughter, I hadn’t broken my tenant’s confidence. Maybe the rift could be breached there.
“Not a good idea. Can’t you picture Uncle Marcus standing on the church steps with pointed finger and yelling, ‘Sinner, begone. Your kind isn’t welcome here.’ I wouldn’t want to tempt him to appear as less than a good Christian.”
The note of bitterness in her voice saddened me. She’d been alienated from her family for too long. Surely, there was a way to bring about reconciliation, at least with her grandmother. An idea occurred. When I returned to my apartment, I made two phone calls.
***
Two days later, Martha and I entered Le Lune, a local restaurant where Jenna worked as a hostess/waitress. The small room holds a dozen tables in a cozy atmosphere offering exquisite food. Silver moons decorated the pale blue walls. On the tables, metal lanterns with moon cutouts held flickering candles.
As we waited to be escorted to our table, Jenna looked up. “Mrs. Miller. Gran!” She dropped the menus and hugged Martha.
“Child, you look wonderful. Why haven’t you called the house? It’s been five years since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.” Tears trickled down Martha’s cheeks.
“You know why.” Jenna looked away but not before I saw tears glistening in her hazel eyes.
Martha nodded. “You could have let me know you were all right.”
Jenna made a face. “I couldn’t. Uncle Marcus warned me to stay away.”
Martha tisked. “I don’t understand him. Where were you all this time?”
“With Dad’s cousin. She died this fall so I decided to go to school.”
“But she lived so close.” Martha grasped Jenna’s hand. “Don’t think we didn’t try to find you. Your uncle hired a detective. How long have you been in town?”
“Since January, right before classes began at the college.” Jenna retrieved the menus. “Let me show you to a table.”
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t let me know,” Martha said.
“Uncle Marcus knew I was here. He told me not to call or visit. He was afraid you would be upset and have a heart attack. He said you’re not well.”
Martha shook her head. “My heart is sound. I don’t understand why he’s still grieving over what happened so long ago. Child, what did happen that day? He won’t tell me.”
Jenna led us to a table and held the chair for her grandmother. “I won’t either.” She handed us menus. “The veal dishes are great and I recommend the house dressing.”
We decided on veal piccata. After Jenna took our orders, she headed to the kitchen.
Martha’s gaze followed the young woman. “She looks wonderful. Thank you for arranging this meeting. I’ve always refused to believe the stories I was told.”
“And what were they?”
“That she was abusing alcohol and using drugs. I never saw any evidence when
she lived with me.”
“Who told you that?”
She frowned. “Maybe...I’m not sure but Sophie might have been the one.”
“How much did Marcus say about the accident?”
Martha took a deep breath. “That Jenna was high on something. I didn’t notice that when she left the house.”
“Why would he say that? Her tests were negative.”
“He said she and Mark quarreled and Jenna grabbed the keys. Mark tried to stop
her, but she sped off and crashed into the tree.”
“But Marcus wasn’t there.” I stared at the candle. Why had her son lied? Mark had been the driver and his blood alcohol had been well over the legal limit.
A few hours after the accident, the first he’d seen since he’d joined the police force, Pete came to the house. He’d known Mark. Pete was upset for another reason. As owner and editor-in-chief of the local newspaper, Marcus had kept the details out of print. How could I tell Martha, her son was a liar?
“Are you sure you heard everything he said?” I asked. “After all, you both were in shock.”
Martha frowned. “I’m sure he said Jenna was driving. You know, she walked out of the hospital and ran away. Why didn’t she come home?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
Our salads arrived. Jenna had been right about the dressing, a raspberry vinaigrette. When the entree arrived, the veal could be cut with a fork and the sauce had a bold lemon flavor.
Jenna returned to refill out cups and to deliver creme brulee. “You’ll enjoy this. My treat.”
Martha caught her hand. “Why are you working here?”
“The usual reasons.”
“I...” Martha shook her head.
“Gran, I’m doing fine.”
When Jenna left to deliver another customer’s meal, Martha leaned forward. “I just don’t know why the detective Marcus hired couldn’t find her. She was living an hour from here.”
Had he really hired a detective? My few encounters with her son regarding church matters made me doubt he did. Marcus Garner believed his way was the right and only way. Over the years, I’ve watched him manipulate others, including his mother. I believed he had no intention of sharing his mother’s wealth with a soul, especially not his niece. His young daughters were spoiled. His second wife was years younger and she thought money could purchase anything or anyone.
“Why didn’t Jenna come to me for help?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want money.”
“But that’s why she quarreled with Mark. She believed he was my sole heir and that wasn’t true.”
The last spoon of dessert slid down my throat. “Let me handle the check and take you home.” I couldn’t answer her question. Would she ask the one person who could? Her son.
She touched my hand. “You don’t want to be involved and I don’t blame you. Family problems shouldn’t spill onto friends.”
I was already involved. Jenna was my tenant and Martha, my friend. I would find a way to mend the shattered pieces. How, I didn’t know.
***
The April Saturday held a hint of summer. With a pitcher of iced mint tea on the table between us, I quizzed Jenna for a test in Anatomy. A car pulled in at the curb. Jenna’s shoulders tensed. When I looked up, the reason for her uneasiness was evident. Marcus Garner strode up the walk. He’d inherited his height and build from his father. Only his black hair and dark eyes came from Martha.
“Marcus, what brings you?”
The owner of the local newspaper glared. “The pair of you.” Anger darkened his eyes. “Katherine, my family doesn’t need your interference. I don’t appreciate what you did with my mother the other evening.”
I rose and faced him. “Just what’s wrong with two friends having dinner at the best restaurant in town?”
“I know what you were up to.” He stabbed his finger toward me. “Stay out of my business.” He turned to Jenna. “What did I tell you when I heard you were back in town?”
“Not to see Gran.”
“But you did and you have her all upset. She doesn’t need another addict siphoning her money.”
Jenna sprang to her feet. “I’ve never done drugs and I don’t abuse alcohol. I saw
how those things messed up my mother and Mark.”
“Liar. Mark had no substance abuse problems. For the last time, stay away from my mother.”
“She’s my grandmother and I love her.”
He raised his fist and swung. I grabbed his arm and deflected the blow. “Marcus Garner, you have no right to come on my property and threaten anyone.”
“Just stay our of my business.” He stomped to his car and drove away.
I shook my head. How could a middle-aged pillar of the community have so little restraint?
“You should have let him hit me.”
“Why?”
“He would have been talking to the police.” She reached for the tea. “Sorry.”
“What for? He’s the one at fault.” I patted her hand. “If Martha wants to see you, he has no reason to say she can’t.”
She sucked in a breath. “I shouldn’t drag you into my problems. Maybe I need to find another apartment.”
“Absolutely not. Your uncle and I have had our differences in the past. He doesn’t frighten me either.” I frowned. “He can be rude, but I wonder what has him so worried. Could he have a guilty conscience? Maybe he’s afraid your grandmother will learn the detective was a hoax.”
Jenna settled in the chair. “I doubt he feels guilty about anything. He’s afraid Gran will leave her money to someone other than him. When Granddad died, Uncle Marcus was furious when he received the paper and no money. He and Sophie had been married a year. She wasn’t happy either.”
My thoughts churned. If Marcus was living off the profits from the paper, he could be over-extended, especially with the show of wealth Sophie enjoyed. Was Martha subsidizing his lifestyle or was he counting on a large inheritance? I picked up the study guide. “Back to Anatomy.”
***
On Sunday morning, I rode to church with the Duggans. Since I usually have Sunday dinner at my son’s, my family would meet me in our usual pew. I slid into the back seat beside Robby.
“Hi, Grandma Mrs. Miller.”
Pete laughed so hard his cheeks nearly matched his red hair. “So, Sherlock, you have a new title.”
“I like it.”
Beth turned. Her eyes sparkled. “Robby has plans for you. Have dinner with us soon.”
“Love to. I’ll bring dessert.”
“Cookies.” Pete and Robby shouted in unison.
“Have you heard from Lars?” Beth asked.
“Last week.”
“Any news on the houses there?” Pete asked. “He needs to get back to keep trouble from finding you.”
“He’s hoping at least one of the houses will sell soon. But trouble? Haven’t had much lately.”
“Right.” Skepticism filled his voice. “What’s this I hear about a visit from Marcus Garner?”
“Just a verbal drive-by.”
When we reached St. Stephen’s, Pete let us out while he found a parking space. With three churches in two blocks, Sunday morning parking rivals the mall during the Christmas rush. I walked up the granite steps and stepped into the vestibule.
Martha stood with her daughter-in-law. She came toward me. “See me after church. There’s something I’d like you to do for me.” Her dark eyes glowed with -- anger, irritation?
“See you at coffee hour.” Hopefully, I could persuade Andrew to stay. I spotted my granddaughter and made my way down the center aisle.
Andrea hugged me. “Mom and Dad are parking the car. I came to save our seats.”
I winked. Since my resignation as organist, I’ve sat in this pew where the acoustics are wonderful. Everyone in the congregation knows this is my place.
While we waited for the service to begin, I chatted with several of my friends. The Garners walked down the aisle and settled in the second row, their accustomed place. The younger girl turned and stuck out her tongue. She mouthed something.
Andrea jumped to her feet. “Not here.” I touched her arm. “What’s this about?”
“Tammy’s a brat. She’s mad ‘cause I was picked for a solo in the spring recital. She didn’t get one.”
“Some people can’t handle losing.”
She nodded. “She put honey in my dance shoes. Mom had to buy me a new pair.”
“Are you sure she was the one?”
“She laughed and bragged to the other girls. They stopped talking to her. Tammy thinks because she’s rich and goes to that private school she’s better than us. And her mother --” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Garner yelled at Miss Juliette about Tammy being stuck in the company. Miss Juliette said solos are based on talent and hard work, not money.”
“Miss Juliette’s right.”
“Tammy says her mother’s hunting for another dance company. There’s one across the river but you have to go to auditions. Miss Juliette told Mrs. Garner she could take Tammy out of the company, but she needed to pay her bill first.”
Andrew and Ruth arrived. In an instant, my granddaughter changed from village gossip to young lady.
When the service ended, I remained to hear the postlude. The organist, while competent, has none of Roger’s flair or charisma. A plus for the church but a loss to music lovers.
Instead of heading to Fellowship Hall, Marcus herded his mother toward the vestibule. She halted at the end of my pew. Marcus tugged on her arm. “Mother, we’ll be late.”
She glared. “I need to speak to Katherine.”
“Call her tonight or tomorrow. Sophie was fortunate enough to obtain luncheon reservations at Mountain View. We must be there for our seating time.”
“Later,” she called as he propelled her forward.
I followed. At the head of the steps, Martha shook off Marcus’ hand. Her heel twisted. She fell and slid down the steps. I dashed to her side and knelt. She grimaced. Her face was as gray as her hair. When I saw the way her leg was positioned, I was sure her hip was fractured. I felt for her pulse.
“Don’t try to get up.” I rolled my stole and slipped it under her head. “Someone call for an ambulance.”
Marcus glared at me. “Katherine, this is your fault.”
“Excuse me. If you hadn’t dragged your mother from the church, she wouldn’t have pulled away from you. Why don’t you accept the responsibility for your own actions?”
Marcus’ wife left her car at the curb. “Marcus, our reservations. We can’t be late. We won’t get another seating for months. You know the rule. They call your name three times and if you don’t answer, they give your time away.”
“Sophie, go ahead. Take the girls. I’ll stay with mother.”
“Fine, stay.” she snapped. She hurried to the car.
Amazing, I thought. Reservations at a restaurant were more important than her mother-in-law’s health.
The oldest daughter tugged on her father’s arm. “Daddy, I’ll stay.”
He shook his head. “Go with your mother.”
“What if Grandmother Garner has to have an operation?”
I looked up. “They won’t take her to surgery for hours, especially if she’s had breakfast.”
“Okay.” The child ran off.
My son arrived. “Ambulance is on the way. Her vitals?”
“Pulse rapid but steady. I’m sure the pain is at fault.”
Andrew nodded. He helped me to my feet.
“Katherine. Come. Tomorrow.”
“I will.”
We waited until the ambulance arrived, then drove to my son’s house. I tried Jenna’s number and gave up after ten rings. Ruth and I collaborated on dinner. After we ate, Andrew went to his study. A few minutes later, he motioned to me. “Just called the hospital. Mrs. Garner’s in surgery.”
“Who’s the surgeon?”
“Dr. Beemish.”
“Good.” He’d done the surgery when I broke my leg. Also, as a nurse at the hospital, I’d taken care of his patients and knew he was excellent.
The rest of the day was spent catching up with my family’s doings. That evening when Andrew dropped me off, I knocked on the door of the first floor apartment.
Jenna answered. “What’s wrong?”
“Your grandmother fell on the steps at church. She fractured her hip.”
Jenna blanched. “Will she be all right?”
“She has a good surgeon and for her age is in good health. They did the surgery this afternoon. I called but you weren’t here.”
“I worked brunch and part of dinner. I’m going to see her.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Probably not, but I have to be sure she’s all right.”
While I understood her concern and need, I hoped Marcus would understand.
Later that evening as I enjoyed a mug of tea, I heard someone at the door. “Who’s there?”
“Jenna. Can I talk to you?”
I opened the door. Her eyes were red from crying, but her posture telegraphed anger. “What happened?”
“Gran is fine. Awake and alert.” Jenna sank on one of the kitchen chairs. “Uncle Marcus dragged me from the room and told the private duty nurse I wasn’t allowed to visit again. I saw Gran for a moment. The nurse followed me down the hall and said Gran had come through surgery with no problems. Why is he so mean?”
“I wish I knew.” I filled a mug for her. “I’ll visit tomorrow and keep you posted. You can always call her.”
“And have him remove her phone.” She sampled the tea. “What really happened? He said the accident was your fault.”
“She wanted to tell me something, but he was rushing her. When they started down the steps, she pulled away, slipped and fell. I don’t understand your uncle. Why would he lie?”
“Maybe to make trouble between us. Won’t happen.” She smiled. “Did Sophie really rush off to lunch?”
“She did.”
“Someone at the restaurant laughed about her haste. Shows her priorities.”
“My very thought. I’ve always known social climbing was her forte. The oldest daughter offered to stay, but Marcus sent her with her mother.”
“Maybe she’s Gran’s favorite the way Mark was.”
“I don’t think your grandmother had favorites in the past or now.”
“But I heard --”
“What someone wanted you to hear.”
Jenna drained her mug. “I think you’re right.” She rose. “Thanks for the tea and the shoulder. I’d better go. Early class tomorrow. When you see Gran, tell her I love her and I’ll find a way to visit.”
“Will do.”
***
I waited until after lunch to visit Martha at the hospital. As I walked down the corridor of the Surgical Unit, the familiar scents and sounds made me wish I was back in uniform. A very bad idea. I remembered what had happened when I resurfaced as a church organist. Maybe the desire to return was akin to an old racehorse wanting to take another lap around the track.
I paused outside Martha’s private room and listened for voices. Hearing none I wanted to avoid, I tapped on the partially open door. The nurse who appeared had been a colleague until she opted for private duty.
“Kate, how nice to see you. Heard you retired. Are you visiting someone?”
“Martha. We’re old friends.”
She shook her head. “Her son doesn’t want anyone other than family visiting. She needs to rest.”
“Think of this as a pastoral call. We attend the same church.” On occasion, I made hospital calls for our pastor.
“Katherine, is that you?” Martha asked.
“Yes.”
“Let her in. It’s vital for me to speak to her.”
Fran shrugged. “Go ahead. You can sit with her while I grab lunch. Her daughter-in-law was due to relieve me a half hour ago. Her son doesn’t want her left alone.”
To keep out visitors who didn’t meet his approval was my take on the order. “Thanks.” I entered and went to the bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Dumb. Awkward. I’m glad you came.”
“Jenna says she loves you and she’ll find a way to visit.”
“Tell her to wait until I go to Hudson House. Marcus is so over-protective. When I’m there, he’ll know I’m recovering and he won’t worry so.” She clasped my hand. “Give me my handbag.”
I looked in the bedside stand and the closet. “Not here.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “That’s right. I had it put in the safe.”
Why hadn’t she sent her valuables home with her son? “I guess whatever you wanted to give me will have to wait.”
She nodded. “There are some things at the house I want you to remove.”
What’s going on?” I turned. Sophie Garner stood in the doorway. She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’m visiting,” I said.
“Marcus doesn’t want Mother Garner disturbed. Did that stupid nurse let you in? I’ll see she’s fired at once.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Martha’s voice held an iron edge. “I pay her and if I think she deserves to be fired, I will. You’re almost an hour late to relieve her. Kate kindly volunteered to stay while the nurse had lunch.”
Sophie waved her red-tipped fingers. “Did you expect me to walk out on Linda Eliot? She’s a very influential person around the county.”
Martha snorted. “A newcomer with new money. The Garners have been forces to reckon with for over a hundred years, but you always did like flash.” She dropped her hand on the bed. “Don’t let her vulgar money sway you, but there’s no sense trying to make silk from trash.”
“How can you say that? I’ve given you two lovely granddaughters.” Sophie turned to me. “You can leave. When I tell Marcus you were here, he’ll be livid.”
“You’ll tell him nothing.” Martha glared. “Sophie, step outside. I want to speak to Katherine alone.”
“I will not.”
I clasped Martha’s hand. “It’s all right. I’ll talk to you later.”
Martha nodded. “Let my nurse know Sophie’s here and she has no reason to worry or hurry her break.”
“Will do.” I slipped past Sophie and strode down the hall. At the nurses’ lounge, I opened the door and passed Martha’s message to Fran.
The Hudson House Murders
By Janet Lane Walters
DiskUs Publishing
Chapter 1
Virus Attack
The sun of the early April day shone in a cloudless sky. Yesterday’s rain had left the ground moist and easy for digging. Daffodils and tulips added color to the scene and delight to my spirits. I knelt beside one of the mint patches and loosened the soul around the emerging shoots. Soon the numerous varieties would be high and provide leaves for drying and blending into teas. This year, I planned to use green tea as a base in some of the blends.
I pulled weeds, then sank back to admire my work. My Maine Coon cat lay beside the gardening mat. With a boneless movement, Robespierre stretched. I sighed with envy and wished I had his supple spine. He ambled toward the car pulling into the driveway.
Jenna Taylor, one of my first floor tenants, slid from the red hatchback and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Miller.”
I rose and gathered my tools. “How was class?”
She grinned. “Thanks for your help on the Psych paper. Got an A.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Her hazel eyes filled with sadness. “You’re the only one.” She took the basket and carried it to the porch of my “Painted Lady.”
The Victorian house I’d lived in since my dead husband and I had settled in this Hudson Valley village had been converted into two apartments. I chose the second floor with its view of the river and rented the first. A week after my return from Santa Fe, I’d acquired Jenna and her friend as tenants. The young women were students at the local college, Jenna in Nursing and Louise in Business.
I paused at the foot of the steps. “Why don’t you call your grandmother? I’m sure she’d be glad to see you and as proud of your accomplishments as I am.”
She shook her head. “And bring my problems with my uncle on her head. He hated my mother. After my dad died, Mom asked him for help and he refused.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You should have heard the things he accused me of after my cousin’s death. I’m better off staying away from family.”
I touched her hand. “The accident was five years ago. Surely he’s over the loss by now.”
She combed her fingers through her short honey blonde hair. “He never forgives or forgets.” She handed me the basket. “Have to change for work. See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I echoed and followed her inside. Robespierre trailed me upstairs. There, I spilled a little food in his dish. He thinks he should be fed every time he returns from outside. I always indulge him by adding a few dry tidbits.
I put the kettle on. I hurt for Jenna. She’d seen more tragedy in twenty-three years than anyone should bear. Her father’s death, her mother’s alcoholism and series of abusive relationships. Orphaned at fourteen, she’d gone to live with her grandmother. Three years later, there’d been the accident and her cousin had died. For some reason I hadn’t learned until recently, Jenna had become a runaway.
In January, I learned from an acquaintance who taught at the college that Jenna had enrolled as a student and was looking for an apartment. When she was a child, I’d felt sorry for her and angry about the way her uncle had treated her. I offered her the first floor apartment at a reduced rate and had signed a lease with the girls. Over the past few months, Jenna and I have become friends.
After a quick wash-up, I brewed a pot of mint tea. Robespierre began his greeting dance. Before I had a chance to see who had arrived, the cat slipped through his door. When I saw him on the landing with my young friend, Robby, I called a greeting.
“Mrs. Miller, can I visit?” Robby asked. “I need to ask you something really important.”
“Over milk and cookies?”
He nodded. “Mom said I can have three.”
“How does peanut butter with chocolate chips sound?” His grin provided my answer.
“Oh, yes.” He bent and scratched Robespierre’s head. The large cat rumbled like the sound of distant thunder.
Once the ritual greeting ended, three cookies and a glass of milk waited on the table. Robby pulled a stool to the sink and washed his hands. “See. I ‘membered.”
“So you did.” While he ate the first cookie, I filled a mug and sat across the table from him. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
He propped his elbows on the table. “How can a boy be happy his grandma died? If I had one, I’d be sad.”
I sipped the tea. “That’s a hard question. Want to tell me how you learned the boy was happy about her death?”
He leaned forward. “He’s in my class. Always saying bad things ‘bout her. Said she was rich and mean ‘cause she wouldn’t buy him all the toys he wanted.”
“Sounds like he’s greedy.”
Robby’s head bobbed. “He sure is. Always saying how his things are better than mine ‘cause they cost more.”
“So why was he happy she died?”
“’Cause his mom and dad don’t fight with his grandma ‘bout her money. They got it all.”
I cradled the mug. “Is he happy now?”
“Guess so. He says so but he’s still mean.” Robby reached for a second cookie. “He got a new bike and lots of video games. He’s gonna live in a big new house. They can ‘ford a new one ‘cause no more money goes to that place.”
“What place?”
“You know, the one on the river where old people go. Our class went there once to sing. They liked us.”
“Hudson House?”
“Yep.”
The private nursing home is where the rich of the area go to recover from surgery or to spend their final years. The boy’s grandmother must have had the means to pay for the luxurious service. I patted Robby’s hand. “I’m not sure I have answers for your questions. I’m not sure there are any.”
He looked up. “If I had a grandma, she’d be just like you.”
“Thank you.” I patted his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t I become your adopted grandma?”
His eyes widened. “You really could be mine. Like the puppy Pete said we’ll ‘dopt from the shelter.”
Being compared to a puppy tickled my thoughts. Laughter brought tears to my eyes. “Since I’m an experienced grandmother, I won’t need training in how to behave. The puppy will.”
He jumped up and hugged me. A frown wrinkled his forehead. Mom says I have to call you Mrs. Miller. A grandma should be called Grandma.” He bit the third cookie and swallowed. “I know. You can be Grandma Mrs. Miller. Wait ‘til I tell Mom and
Pete.”
Before he left, I gave him a tin of cookies. “Make sure you share.”
“Have to.” He giggled. “Pete would chase me around the table making pig sounds. I’m glad Mom married him.” He tucked the tin under his arm and opened the door. Robespierre dashed ahead of him. “Bye, Grandma Mrs. Miller.”
Just then, Jenna stepped from the downstairs apartment. “What was that about?”
“He wanted a grandmother so I adopted him.”
“That’s so nice.” Her voice broke.
“Come to church with me on Sunday.” Her grandmother was a member of St. Stephen’s. So was I. Martha Garner and I had become friends when we worked on several Women’s Guild projects. I know she often wondered what had happened to Jenna. Though I’d wanted to tell Martha about her granddaughter, I hadn’t broken my tenant’s confidence. Maybe the rift could be breached there.
“Not a good idea. Can’t you picture Uncle Marcus standing on the church steps with pointed finger and yelling, ‘Sinner, begone. Your kind isn’t welcome here.’ I wouldn’t want to tempt him to appear as less than a good Christian.”
The note of bitterness in her voice saddened me. She’d been alienated from her family for too long. Surely, there was a way to bring about reconciliation, at least with her grandmother. An idea occurred. When I returned to my apartment, I made two phone calls.
***
Two days later, Martha and I entered Le Lune, a local restaurant where Jenna worked as a hostess/waitress. The small room holds a dozen tables in a cozy atmosphere offering exquisite food. Silver moons decorated the pale blue walls. On the tables, metal lanterns with moon cutouts held flickering candles.
As we waited to be escorted to our table, Jenna looked up. “Mrs. Miller. Gran!” She dropped the menus and hugged Martha.
“Child, you look wonderful. Why haven’t you called the house? It’s been five years since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.” Tears trickled down Martha’s cheeks.
“You know why.” Jenna looked away but not before I saw tears glistening in her hazel eyes.
Martha nodded. “You could have let me know you were all right.”
Jenna made a face. “I couldn’t. Uncle Marcus warned me to stay away.”
Martha tisked. “I don’t understand him. Where were you all this time?”
“With Dad’s cousin. She died this fall so I decided to go to school.”
“But she lived so close.” Martha grasped Jenna’s hand. “Don’t think we didn’t try to find you. Your uncle hired a detective. How long have you been in town?”
“Since January, right before classes began at the college.” Jenna retrieved the menus. “Let me show you to a table.”
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t let me know,” Martha said.
“Uncle Marcus knew I was here. He told me not to call or visit. He was afraid you would be upset and have a heart attack. He said you’re not well.”
Martha shook her head. “My heart is sound. I don’t understand why he’s still grieving over what happened so long ago. Child, what did happen that day? He won’t tell me.”
Jenna led us to a table and held the chair for her grandmother. “I won’t either.” She handed us menus. “The veal dishes are great and I recommend the house dressing.”
We decided on veal piccata. After Jenna took our orders, she headed to the kitchen.
Martha’s gaze followed the young woman. “She looks wonderful. Thank you for arranging this meeting. I’ve always refused to believe the stories I was told.”
“And what were they?”
“That she was abusing alcohol and using drugs. I never saw any evidence when
she lived with me.”
“Who told you that?”
She frowned. “Maybe...I’m not sure but Sophie might have been the one.”
“How much did Marcus say about the accident?”
Martha took a deep breath. “That Jenna was high on something. I didn’t notice that when she left the house.”
“Why would he say that? Her tests were negative.”
“He said she and Mark quarreled and Jenna grabbed the keys. Mark tried to stop
her, but she sped off and crashed into the tree.”
“But Marcus wasn’t there.” I stared at the candle. Why had her son lied? Mark had been the driver and his blood alcohol had been well over the legal limit.
A few hours after the accident, the first he’d seen since he’d joined the police force, Pete came to the house. He’d known Mark. Pete was upset for another reason. As owner and editor-in-chief of the local newspaper, Marcus had kept the details out of print. How could I tell Martha, her son was a liar?
“Are you sure you heard everything he said?” I asked. “After all, you both were in shock.”
Martha frowned. “I’m sure he said Jenna was driving. You know, she walked out of the hospital and ran away. Why didn’t she come home?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
Our salads arrived. Jenna had been right about the dressing, a raspberry vinaigrette. When the entree arrived, the veal could be cut with a fork and the sauce had a bold lemon flavor.
Jenna returned to refill out cups and to deliver creme brulee. “You’ll enjoy this. My treat.”
Martha caught her hand. “Why are you working here?”
“The usual reasons.”
“I...” Martha shook her head.
“Gran, I’m doing fine.”
When Jenna left to deliver another customer’s meal, Martha leaned forward. “I just don’t know why the detective Marcus hired couldn’t find her. She was living an hour from here.”
Had he really hired a detective? My few encounters with her son regarding church matters made me doubt he did. Marcus Garner believed his way was the right and only way. Over the years, I’ve watched him manipulate others, including his mother. I believed he had no intention of sharing his mother’s wealth with a soul, especially not his niece. His young daughters were spoiled. His second wife was years younger and she thought money could purchase anything or anyone.
“Why didn’t Jenna come to me for help?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want money.”
“But that’s why she quarreled with Mark. She believed he was my sole heir and that wasn’t true.”
The last spoon of dessert slid down my throat. “Let me handle the check and take you home.” I couldn’t answer her question. Would she ask the one person who could? Her son.
She touched my hand. “You don’t want to be involved and I don’t blame you. Family problems shouldn’t spill onto friends.”
I was already involved. Jenna was my tenant and Martha, my friend. I would find a way to mend the shattered pieces. How, I didn’t know.
***
The April Saturday held a hint of summer. With a pitcher of iced mint tea on the table between us, I quizzed Jenna for a test in Anatomy. A car pulled in at the curb. Jenna’s shoulders tensed. When I looked up, the reason for her uneasiness was evident. Marcus Garner strode up the walk. He’d inherited his height and build from his father. Only his black hair and dark eyes came from Martha.
“Marcus, what brings you?”
The owner of the local newspaper glared. “The pair of you.” Anger darkened his eyes. “Katherine, my family doesn’t need your interference. I don’t appreciate what you did with my mother the other evening.”
I rose and faced him. “Just what’s wrong with two friends having dinner at the best restaurant in town?”
“I know what you were up to.” He stabbed his finger toward me. “Stay out of my business.” He turned to Jenna. “What did I tell you when I heard you were back in town?”
“Not to see Gran.”
“But you did and you have her all upset. She doesn’t need another addict siphoning her money.”
Jenna sprang to her feet. “I’ve never done drugs and I don’t abuse alcohol. I saw
how those things messed up my mother and Mark.”
“Liar. Mark had no substance abuse problems. For the last time, stay away from my mother.”
“She’s my grandmother and I love her.”
He raised his fist and swung. I grabbed his arm and deflected the blow. “Marcus Garner, you have no right to come on my property and threaten anyone.”
“Just stay our of my business.” He stomped to his car and drove away.
I shook my head. How could a middle-aged pillar of the community have so little restraint?
“You should have let him hit me.”
“Why?”
“He would have been talking to the police.” She reached for the tea. “Sorry.”
“What for? He’s the one at fault.” I patted her hand. “If Martha wants to see you, he has no reason to say she can’t.”
She sucked in a breath. “I shouldn’t drag you into my problems. Maybe I need to find another apartment.”
“Absolutely not. Your uncle and I have had our differences in the past. He doesn’t frighten me either.” I frowned. “He can be rude, but I wonder what has him so worried. Could he have a guilty conscience? Maybe he’s afraid your grandmother will learn the detective was a hoax.”
Jenna settled in the chair. “I doubt he feels guilty about anything. He’s afraid Gran will leave her money to someone other than him. When Granddad died, Uncle Marcus was furious when he received the paper and no money. He and Sophie had been married a year. She wasn’t happy either.”
My thoughts churned. If Marcus was living off the profits from the paper, he could be over-extended, especially with the show of wealth Sophie enjoyed. Was Martha subsidizing his lifestyle or was he counting on a large inheritance? I picked up the study guide. “Back to Anatomy.”
***
On Sunday morning, I rode to church with the Duggans. Since I usually have Sunday dinner at my son’s, my family would meet me in our usual pew. I slid into the back seat beside Robby.
“Hi, Grandma Mrs. Miller.”
Pete laughed so hard his cheeks nearly matched his red hair. “So, Sherlock, you have a new title.”
“I like it.”
Beth turned. Her eyes sparkled. “Robby has plans for you. Have dinner with us soon.”
“Love to. I’ll bring dessert.”
“Cookies.” Pete and Robby shouted in unison.
“Have you heard from Lars?” Beth asked.
“Last week.”
“Any news on the houses there?” Pete asked. “He needs to get back to keep trouble from finding you.”
“He’s hoping at least one of the houses will sell soon. But trouble? Haven’t had much lately.”
“Right.” Skepticism filled his voice. “What’s this I hear about a visit from Marcus Garner?”
“Just a verbal drive-by.”
When we reached St. Stephen’s, Pete let us out while he found a parking space. With three churches in two blocks, Sunday morning parking rivals the mall during the Christmas rush. I walked up the granite steps and stepped into the vestibule.
Martha stood with her daughter-in-law. She came toward me. “See me after church. There’s something I’d like you to do for me.” Her dark eyes glowed with -- anger, irritation?
“See you at coffee hour.” Hopefully, I could persuade Andrew to stay. I spotted my granddaughter and made my way down the center aisle.
Andrea hugged me. “Mom and Dad are parking the car. I came to save our seats.”
I winked. Since my resignation as organist, I’ve sat in this pew where the acoustics are wonderful. Everyone in the congregation knows this is my place.
While we waited for the service to begin, I chatted with several of my friends. The Garners walked down the aisle and settled in the second row, their accustomed place. The younger girl turned and stuck out her tongue. She mouthed something.
Andrea jumped to her feet. “Not here.” I touched her arm. “What’s this about?”
“Tammy’s a brat. She’s mad ‘cause I was picked for a solo in the spring recital. She didn’t get one.”
“Some people can’t handle losing.”
She nodded. “She put honey in my dance shoes. Mom had to buy me a new pair.”
“Are you sure she was the one?”
“She laughed and bragged to the other girls. They stopped talking to her. Tammy thinks because she’s rich and goes to that private school she’s better than us. And her mother --” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Garner yelled at Miss Juliette about Tammy being stuck in the company. Miss Juliette said solos are based on talent and hard work, not money.”
“Miss Juliette’s right.”
“Tammy says her mother’s hunting for another dance company. There’s one across the river but you have to go to auditions. Miss Juliette told Mrs. Garner she could take Tammy out of the company, but she needed to pay her bill first.”
Andrew and Ruth arrived. In an instant, my granddaughter changed from village gossip to young lady.
When the service ended, I remained to hear the postlude. The organist, while competent, has none of Roger’s flair or charisma. A plus for the church but a loss to music lovers.
Instead of heading to Fellowship Hall, Marcus herded his mother toward the vestibule. She halted at the end of my pew. Marcus tugged on her arm. “Mother, we’ll be late.”
She glared. “I need to speak to Katherine.”
“Call her tonight or tomorrow. Sophie was fortunate enough to obtain luncheon reservations at Mountain View. We must be there for our seating time.”
“Later,” she called as he propelled her forward.
I followed. At the head of the steps, Martha shook off Marcus’ hand. Her heel twisted. She fell and slid down the steps. I dashed to her side and knelt. She grimaced. Her face was as gray as her hair. When I saw the way her leg was positioned, I was sure her hip was fractured. I felt for her pulse.
“Don’t try to get up.” I rolled my stole and slipped it under her head. “Someone call for an ambulance.”
Marcus glared at me. “Katherine, this is your fault.”
“Excuse me. If you hadn’t dragged your mother from the church, she wouldn’t have pulled away from you. Why don’t you accept the responsibility for your own actions?”
Marcus’ wife left her car at the curb. “Marcus, our reservations. We can’t be late. We won’t get another seating for months. You know the rule. They call your name three times and if you don’t answer, they give your time away.”
“Sophie, go ahead. Take the girls. I’ll stay with mother.”
“Fine, stay.” she snapped. She hurried to the car.
Amazing, I thought. Reservations at a restaurant were more important than her mother-in-law’s health.
The oldest daughter tugged on her father’s arm. “Daddy, I’ll stay.”
He shook his head. “Go with your mother.”
“What if Grandmother Garner has to have an operation?”
I looked up. “They won’t take her to surgery for hours, especially if she’s had breakfast.”
“Okay.” The child ran off.
My son arrived. “Ambulance is on the way. Her vitals?”
“Pulse rapid but steady. I’m sure the pain is at fault.”
Andrew nodded. He helped me to my feet.
“Katherine. Come. Tomorrow.”
“I will.”
We waited until the ambulance arrived, then drove to my son’s house. I tried Jenna’s number and gave up after ten rings. Ruth and I collaborated on dinner. After we ate, Andrew went to his study. A few minutes later, he motioned to me. “Just called the hospital. Mrs. Garner’s in surgery.”
“Who’s the surgeon?”
“Dr. Beemish.”
“Good.” He’d done the surgery when I broke my leg. Also, as a nurse at the hospital, I’d taken care of his patients and knew he was excellent.
The rest of the day was spent catching up with my family’s doings. That evening when Andrew dropped me off, I knocked on the door of the first floor apartment.
Jenna answered. “What’s wrong?”
“Your grandmother fell on the steps at church. She fractured her hip.”
Jenna blanched. “Will she be all right?”
“She has a good surgeon and for her age is in good health. They did the surgery this afternoon. I called but you weren’t here.”
“I worked brunch and part of dinner. I’m going to see her.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Probably not, but I have to be sure she’s all right.”
While I understood her concern and need, I hoped Marcus would understand.
Later that evening as I enjoyed a mug of tea, I heard someone at the door. “Who’s there?”
“Jenna. Can I talk to you?”
I opened the door. Her eyes were red from crying, but her posture telegraphed anger. “What happened?”
“Gran is fine. Awake and alert.” Jenna sank on one of the kitchen chairs. “Uncle Marcus dragged me from the room and told the private duty nurse I wasn’t allowed to visit again. I saw Gran for a moment. The nurse followed me down the hall and said Gran had come through surgery with no problems. Why is he so mean?”
“I wish I knew.” I filled a mug for her. “I’ll visit tomorrow and keep you posted. You can always call her.”
“And have him remove her phone.” She sampled the tea. “What really happened? He said the accident was your fault.”
“She wanted to tell me something, but he was rushing her. When they started down the steps, she pulled away, slipped and fell. I don’t understand your uncle. Why would he lie?”
“Maybe to make trouble between us. Won’t happen.” She smiled. “Did Sophie really rush off to lunch?”
“She did.”
“Someone at the restaurant laughed about her haste. Shows her priorities.”
“My very thought. I’ve always known social climbing was her forte. The oldest daughter offered to stay, but Marcus sent her with her mother.”
“Maybe she’s Gran’s favorite the way Mark was.”
“I don’t think your grandmother had favorites in the past or now.”
“But I heard --”
“What someone wanted you to hear.”
Jenna drained her mug. “I think you’re right.” She rose. “Thanks for the tea and the shoulder. I’d better go. Early class tomorrow. When you see Gran, tell her I love her and I’ll find a way to visit.”
“Will do.”
***
I waited until after lunch to visit Martha at the hospital. As I walked down the corridor of the Surgical Unit, the familiar scents and sounds made me wish I was back in uniform. A very bad idea. I remembered what had happened when I resurfaced as a church organist. Maybe the desire to return was akin to an old racehorse wanting to take another lap around the track.
I paused outside Martha’s private room and listened for voices. Hearing none I wanted to avoid, I tapped on the partially open door. The nurse who appeared had been a colleague until she opted for private duty.
“Kate, how nice to see you. Heard you retired. Are you visiting someone?”
“Martha. We’re old friends.”
She shook her head. “Her son doesn’t want anyone other than family visiting. She needs to rest.”
“Think of this as a pastoral call. We attend the same church.” On occasion, I made hospital calls for our pastor.
“Katherine, is that you?” Martha asked.
“Yes.”
“Let her in. It’s vital for me to speak to her.”
Fran shrugged. “Go ahead. You can sit with her while I grab lunch. Her daughter-in-law was due to relieve me a half hour ago. Her son doesn’t want her left alone.”
To keep out visitors who didn’t meet his approval was my take on the order. “Thanks.” I entered and went to the bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Dumb. Awkward. I’m glad you came.”
“Jenna says she loves you and she’ll find a way to visit.”
“Tell her to wait until I go to Hudson House. Marcus is so over-protective. When I’m there, he’ll know I’m recovering and he won’t worry so.” She clasped my hand. “Give me my handbag.”
I looked in the bedside stand and the closet. “Not here.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “That’s right. I had it put in the safe.”
Why hadn’t she sent her valuables home with her son? “I guess whatever you wanted to give me will have to wait.”
She nodded. “There are some things at the house I want you to remove.”
What’s going on?” I turned. Sophie Garner stood in the doorway. She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’m visiting,” I said.
“Marcus doesn’t want Mother Garner disturbed. Did that stupid nurse let you in? I’ll see she’s fired at once.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Martha’s voice held an iron edge. “I pay her and if I think she deserves to be fired, I will. You’re almost an hour late to relieve her. Kate kindly volunteered to stay while the nurse had lunch.”
Sophie waved her red-tipped fingers. “Did you expect me to walk out on Linda Eliot? She’s a very influential person around the county.”
Martha snorted. “A newcomer with new money. The Garners have been forces to reckon with for over a hundred years, but you always did like flash.” She dropped her hand on the bed. “Don’t let her vulgar money sway you, but there’s no sense trying to make silk from trash.”
“How can you say that? I’ve given you two lovely granddaughters.” Sophie turned to me. “You can leave. When I tell Marcus you were here, he’ll be livid.”
“You’ll tell him nothing.” Martha glared. “Sophie, step outside. I want to speak to Katherine alone.”
“I will not.”
I clasped Martha’s hand. “It’s all right. I’ll talk to you later.”
Martha nodded. “Let my nurse know Sophie’s here and she has no reason to worry or hurry her break.”
“Will do.” I slipped past Sophie and strode down the hall. At the nurses’ lounge, I opened the door and passed Martha’s message to Fran.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Pacing - The third area
Pacing is what keeps people reading a book. If the pace drags, the book can be put aside. I was sorting through my books the other day trying to decide which ones to keep and which ones to send to other lives. These are all novels. I picked up one and saw that I had only read about thirty pages. Thinking I had a new book to read, I sat down and began to read. The first three chapters that I'd read dragged and I knew I wasn't getting into the story by that time so that book went to another life.
Scenes are part of pacing. Each scene has a beginning, a middle and an end. There's one thing different for each scene must have an ending that draws the reader to turn the page and read the next scene. Again I'm using Becoming Your Own Critique Partner written by Jane Toombs and myself as the writing book for this session.
The pacing of individual scenes can vary depending on the writer's purpose for the scene. What purpose have you designed for the scene. Characterization, plot development, or for needed information. Choosing the length of sentences can either speed or slow the scene.
What kind of scene is needed. There are four. Mood or tone, action, reaction or genre. Mood or tone means things like mysterious, romantic, funny. Action scenes are ones like chases, fights, decision making as examples. Reaction scenes are often slower, use much internal dialogue and generally short. Genre - each genre has a definite style of pacing with a number of variations. A long and detailed love scene in the middle of an action adventure can throw the pacing off. This is just one example.
Scenes are part of pacing. Each scene has a beginning, a middle and an end. There's one thing different for each scene must have an ending that draws the reader to turn the page and read the next scene. Again I'm using Becoming Your Own Critique Partner written by Jane Toombs and myself as the writing book for this session.
The pacing of individual scenes can vary depending on the writer's purpose for the scene. What purpose have you designed for the scene. Characterization, plot development, or for needed information. Choosing the length of sentences can either speed or slow the scene.
What kind of scene is needed. There are four. Mood or tone, action, reaction or genre. Mood or tone means things like mysterious, romantic, funny. Action scenes are ones like chases, fights, decision making as examples. Reaction scenes are often slower, use much internal dialogue and generally short. Genre - each genre has a definite style of pacing with a number of variations. A long and detailed love scene in the middle of an action adventure can throw the pacing off. This is just one example.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Interview Three most viewed Gianna, Sherry and Smokey
The interview I had scheduled for today came and I couldn't open the post so I;ve decided to post the interviews of the three ones most viewed on my blog.
Here's the first -
Now for the interview. Known the Gianna Simone for a long time and she's been a member of my critique group for some time.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Primarily paranormal – various types, though I've written others as well. I've found I tend to prefer stories with those elements, vampires, witches, time travel. I've set them in fictional cities, real cities, modern times, and the past. And I also have stories set in various times that have no paranormal elements at all, though it's been some time since I've written a story without. The piece I'm working on for NaNoWriMo is a straight medieval, no otherworldly elements at all. Though I sort of have a ghostly encounter for my hero towards the end.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
It definitely chose me – I've always been drawn to paranormal beings and happenings. I love a good ghost story, and as my critique partners, including you, Janet, know, I love vampires and witches.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Well, I'd like to write something in a science fiction type setting, I even have the beginnings of one, but it's not a genre I generally read, so I'm not as comfortable with some of the elements that belong in the genre.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lots of things – primarily romance fiction. I’ve been leaning toward the erotic authors and titles more and more, but I will always read my long-time favorite authors. I loved the Harry Potter series so much, I find myself re-reading that, and sometimes even some of the books my 14 year old daughter is reading for English class. I also read fan fiction, though it's been a while since I read anything new in that area. If I do read fics, I stick to authors I know are good (and there are a lot of amazing writers out there in the fan fiction world that are as good as any published writer I've read). You have to be careful with fan fiction – something that sounds intriguing can make you want to burn your eyes out with acid once you read it.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I hate this part! I love to talk about myself, lol, but when asked point blank, I never seem to know what to say! I’m proud of being a born and bred Jersey girl, but don’t ask me about any of those idiots on TV. I, and no one I know, is anything like them. I have two wonderful kids, and also work a full time day job, which seriously cuts into writing time.
As for how long I’ve been writing – as long as I can remember. I have very clear memories of writing short stories for extra credit in fourth grade. The teacher would give writing prompts – she’d cut out magazine pictures and staple them to paper, and we could write a story about it. I wrote all the time, and a lot of what I wrote was fan fiction, which I didn’t know it was called at the time. In my freshman year in high school, I wrote my first complete novel, which, in looking back, was a romance as well. My English teacher, Sr. Maureen read it for me and urged me to try and publish it, but I was too afraid to try. So I continued in my own little world, until I wrote a fan letter to Brenda Joyce I think. Her book “The Conqueror” really got to me, the hero was a real jerk, and treated the heroine so horribly, but I loved it. She wrote me back and urged me to find RWA. That was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve been at it ever since. Well, with a couple of lulls thanks to a couple of kids showing up!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I can’t say for sure. Devlin Marchand holds a top spot, but I love Cole from Texas Tempest, Royce Langley from Heart of the Panther, and Adrian duLac from The Taste of Magic. Someday Cole’s and Royce’s will get out there.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The funny thing is most of my heroes are inspired by villains! So the villains in my story have to be really really evil or insane and crazy. I’ve always liked the “bad boys” as it were – one of my favorite villains of all time is Hans Gruber in Die Hard. So suave and sexy – and downright evil. But creating villains in my own work is hard – I basically try and make them be someone who keeps the hero or heroine from getting what they want. Or they're someone that wants something of the hero/heroine's and does everything he/she can to obtain it.
8. What are you working on now?
Right now I am wrapping up my NaNoWriMo story – the sexy medieval I'm at the moment calling Passion's Vengeance. Then it's on to revisions, and I'm also working on revisions for the sequel to In The Devil's Arms. I hope to be done with both of them by January sometime, then I may go back to the sci-fi-ish piece I started. But I have another idea for a story set in the Magiste world in New Orleans.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
In The Devil's Arms came to me because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter books, and I wanted to write something in a magical world. So I just started tossing around ideas and characters, and they started to come to life in my head. Once I could visualize them, the story came into play. Of course, very few people know this, but when I sat down to write it, I just wanted to write what I felt like writing, and the damn thing took on a life of its own. The first final version was over 300K words! The characters just took me over and their story kept going. Of course, I've removed so many of the subplots, and can reuse them for other stories with new characters
Hi, Sherry. She's another of my friends on Obscure YA authors, and another fantasy author.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Hi, Janet! Thanks for interviewing me!
Aside from the very occasional short story, I write YA fantasy. Nearly everything I write is set on Narenta—a planet that may or may not be in our galaxy. The planet has its own three intelligent peoples and, in some ways, a radically different ecology than Earth’s. Narenta’s culture has superficial resemblances to medieval Earth—but magic, both good and evil forms, are very real. Occasionally young people from Earth—chiefly high school kids—are mysteriously taken to Narenta where they find that they have a specific and usually dangerous Outworlder task to perform. Not all are pleased when this is revealed to them.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
Funny thing is when I was a kid, my friends and I used to come up with SF and time travel stories. Reading The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings changed my focus in early college. From then on, fantasy glommed on to me and couldn’t be shaken.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I’ve played around with mild horror in short stories but writing short really isn’t my thing. I don’t know enough science to make a go of SF, as my one SF story made clear. So fantasy is it.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, Madeleine l’Engle, Susan Cooper, Jane Louise Curry, Lloyd Alexander, Diana Wynne Jones, Barbara Hambly, Charles Williams. Many others.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
Well, I’ve been making up stories since I was a kid, which was a long long time ago. I’m 63 years old now. I began writing the first draft of “Seabird” in 1979, when I was in my early 30’s. Once I started writing drafts of fantasy novels, I couldn’t seem to stop. However, I only found a publisher for the first book two years ago.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Eew, not sure if I want to say this, because all of the other characters are going to get jealous. And I’ll probably disconcert some readers.
Most “Seabird” readers (all two of them) would probably choose Cara Marshall as their favorite. Cara is at the beach for her summer vacation between her 11th and 12th year of high school when she is “world-napped” to Narenta. She’s not pleased. For one thing, she had an arcade date for that evening. My loyal two readers were surprised and disappointed when their favorite character didn’t reappear in the next book, “Earthbow”.
If you have room, here’s the blurb for “Seabird”:
“When Cara Marshall is transported to Narenta, she is proclaimed champion of its people against the sorcerous daemagos. Amid the grateful welcomes, Cara protests that she has been "world-napped," and wants neither her title nor her mission. "They've got the wrong person and they're going to get me killed because they won't admit it." With no knowledge of weapons or magic, can she save the Narentans and find her way home?”
http://tinyurl.com/35xu8d
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Yes, all of my books have villains. Some are obvious and some are a surprise. I create them like I do all of my characters—by writing down their role in the story, adding a few bare facts about them, and then spending a –very- long time getting to know them inside and out. I enjoy developing all characters even more fully than needed for their roles in my stories.
8. What are you working on now?
Funny you should ask that. Dave, my publisher at Gryphonwood Press, asked me the same question in an email earlier today. I haven’t answered him yet because I’m torn between two different directions.
I have an incomplete and relatively short novel where the events take place between “Seabird” (1st published book) and “Earthbow” (2nd published book). On the other hand, I should be working to complete the very long series, tentatively titled “The Gryphon and the Basilisk”. (I frequently call that “the behemoth” or “the book that intends to eat Delaware”.) G&B follows the events that take place during “Earthbow”, which makes it the third in the Narenta series.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
“Earthbow Vol.1” (http://amzn.to/cTsAxM ) was released in late March. Volume 2 should be out in about a month. Together, they tell the story of Cara’s younger brother’s adventure on Narenta. However, other characters share the story with him:
1. Coris is a young fighter who was just made knight and who has come to realize that his lord is a cruel usurper. What to do?
2. Harone reprises his role from “Seabird”. A Narentan friend of Cara’s, he is now an enchanter apprentice. He begins by serving as escort and guide to Xander, Cara’s brother, but discovers that he has a –much- more dangerous role to play.
If you have room, here’s the blurb for “Earthbow”:
“Cenoc, the self-styled Lord of Latimus, learns of hidden treasures that can make him even more powerful. Few dare oppose his will, even as they witness his growing madness. However, a remnant stand in his way: a newly knighted young man who is torn between his mission and an overwhelming desire for revenge; an enchanter-initiate who finds himself facing terrors even greater than the danger of opposing Cenoc; a teen Outworlder from Earth who has been gifted with the Earthbow and told he will learn its purpose- just before his mentor abandons him. Return to the world of Narenta in the first installment Sherry Thompson's Earthbow.”
met Smoky through the Vanilla Heart lists. She's one of my fellow writers there and writes both fiction and non-fiction. I think she moves from one side of her brain much easier than I do.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I’ve published both literary fiction and nonfiction books. My passion is fiction writing; I have two novels out, Redeeming Grace and The Cabin. I’ve written two books specifically for writers, Front-Word, Back-Word, Insight Out: Lessons on Writing the Novel Lurking Inside You From Start to Finish and Left-Brain, Right-Brain: 366 Writing Prompts and Exercises. The former is based on my years of teaching fiction writing workshops; the second is daily exercises to keep your muse challenged. My most recent book is Observations of an Earth Mage, a collection of photos, essays, and poems about my experiences in the great outdoors.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
A little bit of both. I started my professional writing career as a freelance feature writer, but I’d always wanted to write a novel. Redeeming Grace started out being more of a romantic novel, but the characters had different ideas. It ended up being a literary examination of the way the Bible can be misconstrued, misinterpreted, to the detriment of women. I had no idea this was what I was going to write about when I set out to write the book! But I’m very proud of the way it turned out, and proud of the statement it makes. The Cabin is more of an historical time travel novel, but I don’t consider it fantasy, like most time travel novels.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Even though there is science fiction I enjoy reading, particularly the science fiction of my youth—I’m talking Ray Bradbury and Robert A. Heinlein, at the risk of dating myself—I have no desire to write in that genre. Today’s sci-fi readers want much more action, much more technology than the sci-fi writers of old, and I simply don’t enjoy reading modern sci-fi as much. I’m not a big action fan. I think I’ll stick to my literary novels and my earth-centered nonfiction writing. That’s what most of my fans prefer, anyway.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
My current favorite is Jose Saramago, the Portuguese Nobel-Prize winning author. Death With Interruptions was absolutely the best book I ever read. I also enjoyed his The Gospel of Jesus Christ—quite a novel take on the Jesus story, no pun intended. I loved Helen of Troy by Margaret George, and Nefertiti by Michelle Moran. I adored The Forest Lover by Susan Vreeland, the fictional account of the life of Canadian artist Emily Carr. I guess you could say my literary taste is wildly varied.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing.
I was born and raised in the Midwest, and started out studying to be a clinical social worker. When I was thirty-two, I was struck by lightning and nearly killed. During my long recovery, I started writing professionally for my hometown newspaper. Freelancing afforded me the opportunity to work when I felt well enough, yet enabled me to not work when I was sick and hospitalized with lightning-related issues. I’ve been writing professionally now for about twenty years! I was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2003, for my short story, “The Last Flight Home.” I moved to California two years ago to help my daughter pursue her dream of becoming an actress, and a few months after my move, met my husband, Scott. Together we go on grand adventures throughout California, which I chronicle in my blog on Xanga (authorsmokytrudeau.xanga.com). Kimberlee Williams at Vanilla Heart Publishing suggested I compile my blogs and other nature writings into what became my latest book, Observations of an Earth Mage. After three nonfiction books, however, I’m ready to return to fiction writing, and am just now starting to write my third novel.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
That would have to be Cora from The Cabin. Cora is thrown into the modern era from pre-Civil War Virginia, losing her husband and two children in the process. But she adapts, and through that adaptation helps orchestrate a daring plot to save her daughter and the man her daughter loves from a terrible fate, changing her family’s history in the process. Cora is the woman I would like to be: brave, intelligent, and quirky.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Luther in Redeeming Grace, could be considered a villain. He is Grace’s father, and after the death of his wife and two of his children, he slowly goes mad. He becomes verbally abusive to Grace and physically abusive to Grace’s little sister Miriam, spouting Bible verses as justification for his actions. Luther is definitely evil, although Grace still has compassion for him. She remembers the kind and loving father he was before tragedy hit the family. And that, to me, is what makes an antagonist believable: they have to have redeeming qualities. There are good qualities in the most evil of people; Hannibal Lechter of The Silence of the Lambs, for example, murdered people and then ate them, yet he loved good art, good music good literature. Putting a glimmer of good, no matter how small, in your villains is always a good idea.
8. What are you working on now?
I’ve just started a brand-new project with the working title, The Madam of Bodie. I don’t want to say too much about it right now, because it is just in its infancy.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Well, I already told you about my latest book release, Observations of an Earth Mage. I have a short story called “Breakfast at the Laundromat” in Vanilla Heart Publishing’s new Passionate Hearts anthology. I love this story and its characters. I got the idea at the laundromat. We live in a teeny tiny cottage with no place for a washer and dryer, so my husband and I have to take our clothes out to wash. We really enjoy people watching while we are there, and the story evolved from there.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
I don't usually write—or read—romance novels. Somehow, they always seemed slightly silly to cynical me. People finding their soul mates—as if soul mates really existed! Really, give me a break ...
But then ... I met my soul mate. And suddenly, romantic stories don't seem so silly to me. Oh, I'm not talking bodice rippers—I still have no use for those. But stories with a strong element of romance, or the possibility of romance, now appeal to me greatly.
Then my publisher requested that I submit a short story to their upcoming Passionate Hearts anthology, and surprise! I find I actually even like to write romantic stories!
Here's the first -
Now for the interview. Known the Gianna Simone for a long time and she's been a member of my critique group for some time.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Primarily paranormal – various types, though I've written others as well. I've found I tend to prefer stories with those elements, vampires, witches, time travel. I've set them in fictional cities, real cities, modern times, and the past. And I also have stories set in various times that have no paranormal elements at all, though it's been some time since I've written a story without. The piece I'm working on for NaNoWriMo is a straight medieval, no otherworldly elements at all. Though I sort of have a ghostly encounter for my hero towards the end.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
It definitely chose me – I've always been drawn to paranormal beings and happenings. I love a good ghost story, and as my critique partners, including you, Janet, know, I love vampires and witches.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Well, I'd like to write something in a science fiction type setting, I even have the beginnings of one, but it's not a genre I generally read, so I'm not as comfortable with some of the elements that belong in the genre.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lots of things – primarily romance fiction. I’ve been leaning toward the erotic authors and titles more and more, but I will always read my long-time favorite authors. I loved the Harry Potter series so much, I find myself re-reading that, and sometimes even some of the books my 14 year old daughter is reading for English class. I also read fan fiction, though it's been a while since I read anything new in that area. If I do read fics, I stick to authors I know are good (and there are a lot of amazing writers out there in the fan fiction world that are as good as any published writer I've read). You have to be careful with fan fiction – something that sounds intriguing can make you want to burn your eyes out with acid once you read it.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I hate this part! I love to talk about myself, lol, but when asked point blank, I never seem to know what to say! I’m proud of being a born and bred Jersey girl, but don’t ask me about any of those idiots on TV. I, and no one I know, is anything like them. I have two wonderful kids, and also work a full time day job, which seriously cuts into writing time.
As for how long I’ve been writing – as long as I can remember. I have very clear memories of writing short stories for extra credit in fourth grade. The teacher would give writing prompts – she’d cut out magazine pictures and staple them to paper, and we could write a story about it. I wrote all the time, and a lot of what I wrote was fan fiction, which I didn’t know it was called at the time. In my freshman year in high school, I wrote my first complete novel, which, in looking back, was a romance as well. My English teacher, Sr. Maureen read it for me and urged me to try and publish it, but I was too afraid to try. So I continued in my own little world, until I wrote a fan letter to Brenda Joyce I think. Her book “The Conqueror” really got to me, the hero was a real jerk, and treated the heroine so horribly, but I loved it. She wrote me back and urged me to find RWA. That was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve been at it ever since. Well, with a couple of lulls thanks to a couple of kids showing up!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I can’t say for sure. Devlin Marchand holds a top spot, but I love Cole from Texas Tempest, Royce Langley from Heart of the Panther, and Adrian duLac from The Taste of Magic. Someday Cole’s and Royce’s will get out there.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The funny thing is most of my heroes are inspired by villains! So the villains in my story have to be really really evil or insane and crazy. I’ve always liked the “bad boys” as it were – one of my favorite villains of all time is Hans Gruber in Die Hard. So suave and sexy – and downright evil. But creating villains in my own work is hard – I basically try and make them be someone who keeps the hero or heroine from getting what they want. Or they're someone that wants something of the hero/heroine's and does everything he/she can to obtain it.
8. What are you working on now?
Right now I am wrapping up my NaNoWriMo story – the sexy medieval I'm at the moment calling Passion's Vengeance. Then it's on to revisions, and I'm also working on revisions for the sequel to In The Devil's Arms. I hope to be done with both of them by January sometime, then I may go back to the sci-fi-ish piece I started. But I have another idea for a story set in the Magiste world in New Orleans.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
In The Devil's Arms came to me because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter books, and I wanted to write something in a magical world. So I just started tossing around ideas and characters, and they started to come to life in my head. Once I could visualize them, the story came into play. Of course, very few people know this, but when I sat down to write it, I just wanted to write what I felt like writing, and the damn thing took on a life of its own. The first final version was over 300K words! The characters just took me over and their story kept going. Of course, I've removed so many of the subplots, and can reuse them for other stories with new characters
Hi, Sherry. She's another of my friends on Obscure YA authors, and another fantasy author.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Hi, Janet! Thanks for interviewing me!
Aside from the very occasional short story, I write YA fantasy. Nearly everything I write is set on Narenta—a planet that may or may not be in our galaxy. The planet has its own three intelligent peoples and, in some ways, a radically different ecology than Earth’s. Narenta’s culture has superficial resemblances to medieval Earth—but magic, both good and evil forms, are very real. Occasionally young people from Earth—chiefly high school kids—are mysteriously taken to Narenta where they find that they have a specific and usually dangerous Outworlder task to perform. Not all are pleased when this is revealed to them.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
Funny thing is when I was a kid, my friends and I used to come up with SF and time travel stories. Reading The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings changed my focus in early college. From then on, fantasy glommed on to me and couldn’t be shaken.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I’ve played around with mild horror in short stories but writing short really isn’t my thing. I don’t know enough science to make a go of SF, as my one SF story made clear. So fantasy is it.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, Madeleine l’Engle, Susan Cooper, Jane Louise Curry, Lloyd Alexander, Diana Wynne Jones, Barbara Hambly, Charles Williams. Many others.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
Well, I’ve been making up stories since I was a kid, which was a long long time ago. I’m 63 years old now. I began writing the first draft of “Seabird” in 1979, when I was in my early 30’s. Once I started writing drafts of fantasy novels, I couldn’t seem to stop. However, I only found a publisher for the first book two years ago.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Eew, not sure if I want to say this, because all of the other characters are going to get jealous. And I’ll probably disconcert some readers.
Most “Seabird” readers (all two of them) would probably choose Cara Marshall as their favorite. Cara is at the beach for her summer vacation between her 11th and 12th year of high school when she is “world-napped” to Narenta. She’s not pleased. For one thing, she had an arcade date for that evening. My loyal two readers were surprised and disappointed when their favorite character didn’t reappear in the next book, “Earthbow”.
If you have room, here’s the blurb for “Seabird”:
“When Cara Marshall is transported to Narenta, she is proclaimed champion of its people against the sorcerous daemagos. Amid the grateful welcomes, Cara protests that she has been "world-napped," and wants neither her title nor her mission. "They've got the wrong person and they're going to get me killed because they won't admit it." With no knowledge of weapons or magic, can she save the Narentans and find her way home?”
http://tinyurl.com/35xu8d
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Yes, all of my books have villains. Some are obvious and some are a surprise. I create them like I do all of my characters—by writing down their role in the story, adding a few bare facts about them, and then spending a –very- long time getting to know them inside and out. I enjoy developing all characters even more fully than needed for their roles in my stories.
8. What are you working on now?
Funny you should ask that. Dave, my publisher at Gryphonwood Press, asked me the same question in an email earlier today. I haven’t answered him yet because I’m torn between two different directions.
I have an incomplete and relatively short novel where the events take place between “Seabird” (1st published book) and “Earthbow” (2nd published book). On the other hand, I should be working to complete the very long series, tentatively titled “The Gryphon and the Basilisk”. (I frequently call that “the behemoth” or “the book that intends to eat Delaware”.) G&B follows the events that take place during “Earthbow”, which makes it the third in the Narenta series.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
“Earthbow Vol.1” (http://amzn.to/cTsAxM ) was released in late March. Volume 2 should be out in about a month. Together, they tell the story of Cara’s younger brother’s adventure on Narenta. However, other characters share the story with him:
1. Coris is a young fighter who was just made knight and who has come to realize that his lord is a cruel usurper. What to do?
2. Harone reprises his role from “Seabird”. A Narentan friend of Cara’s, he is now an enchanter apprentice. He begins by serving as escort and guide to Xander, Cara’s brother, but discovers that he has a –much- more dangerous role to play.
If you have room, here’s the blurb for “Earthbow”:
“Cenoc, the self-styled Lord of Latimus, learns of hidden treasures that can make him even more powerful. Few dare oppose his will, even as they witness his growing madness. However, a remnant stand in his way: a newly knighted young man who is torn between his mission and an overwhelming desire for revenge; an enchanter-initiate who finds himself facing terrors even greater than the danger of opposing Cenoc; a teen Outworlder from Earth who has been gifted with the Earthbow and told he will learn its purpose- just before his mentor abandons him. Return to the world of Narenta in the first installment Sherry Thompson's Earthbow.”
met Smoky through the Vanilla Heart lists. She's one of my fellow writers there and writes both fiction and non-fiction. I think she moves from one side of her brain much easier than I do.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I’ve published both literary fiction and nonfiction books. My passion is fiction writing; I have two novels out, Redeeming Grace and The Cabin. I’ve written two books specifically for writers, Front-Word, Back-Word, Insight Out: Lessons on Writing the Novel Lurking Inside You From Start to Finish and Left-Brain, Right-Brain: 366 Writing Prompts and Exercises. The former is based on my years of teaching fiction writing workshops; the second is daily exercises to keep your muse challenged. My most recent book is Observations of an Earth Mage, a collection of photos, essays, and poems about my experiences in the great outdoors.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
A little bit of both. I started my professional writing career as a freelance feature writer, but I’d always wanted to write a novel. Redeeming Grace started out being more of a romantic novel, but the characters had different ideas. It ended up being a literary examination of the way the Bible can be misconstrued, misinterpreted, to the detriment of women. I had no idea this was what I was going to write about when I set out to write the book! But I’m very proud of the way it turned out, and proud of the statement it makes. The Cabin is more of an historical time travel novel, but I don’t consider it fantasy, like most time travel novels.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Even though there is science fiction I enjoy reading, particularly the science fiction of my youth—I’m talking Ray Bradbury and Robert A. Heinlein, at the risk of dating myself—I have no desire to write in that genre. Today’s sci-fi readers want much more action, much more technology than the sci-fi writers of old, and I simply don’t enjoy reading modern sci-fi as much. I’m not a big action fan. I think I’ll stick to my literary novels and my earth-centered nonfiction writing. That’s what most of my fans prefer, anyway.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
My current favorite is Jose Saramago, the Portuguese Nobel-Prize winning author. Death With Interruptions was absolutely the best book I ever read. I also enjoyed his The Gospel of Jesus Christ—quite a novel take on the Jesus story, no pun intended. I loved Helen of Troy by Margaret George, and Nefertiti by Michelle Moran. I adored The Forest Lover by Susan Vreeland, the fictional account of the life of Canadian artist Emily Carr. I guess you could say my literary taste is wildly varied.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing.
I was born and raised in the Midwest, and started out studying to be a clinical social worker. When I was thirty-two, I was struck by lightning and nearly killed. During my long recovery, I started writing professionally for my hometown newspaper. Freelancing afforded me the opportunity to work when I felt well enough, yet enabled me to not work when I was sick and hospitalized with lightning-related issues. I’ve been writing professionally now for about twenty years! I was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2003, for my short story, “The Last Flight Home.” I moved to California two years ago to help my daughter pursue her dream of becoming an actress, and a few months after my move, met my husband, Scott. Together we go on grand adventures throughout California, which I chronicle in my blog on Xanga (authorsmokytrudeau.xanga.com). Kimberlee Williams at Vanilla Heart Publishing suggested I compile my blogs and other nature writings into what became my latest book, Observations of an Earth Mage. After three nonfiction books, however, I’m ready to return to fiction writing, and am just now starting to write my third novel.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
That would have to be Cora from The Cabin. Cora is thrown into the modern era from pre-Civil War Virginia, losing her husband and two children in the process. But she adapts, and through that adaptation helps orchestrate a daring plot to save her daughter and the man her daughter loves from a terrible fate, changing her family’s history in the process. Cora is the woman I would like to be: brave, intelligent, and quirky.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
Luther in Redeeming Grace, could be considered a villain. He is Grace’s father, and after the death of his wife and two of his children, he slowly goes mad. He becomes verbally abusive to Grace and physically abusive to Grace’s little sister Miriam, spouting Bible verses as justification for his actions. Luther is definitely evil, although Grace still has compassion for him. She remembers the kind and loving father he was before tragedy hit the family. And that, to me, is what makes an antagonist believable: they have to have redeeming qualities. There are good qualities in the most evil of people; Hannibal Lechter of The Silence of the Lambs, for example, murdered people and then ate them, yet he loved good art, good music good literature. Putting a glimmer of good, no matter how small, in your villains is always a good idea.
8. What are you working on now?
I’ve just started a brand-new project with the working title, The Madam of Bodie. I don’t want to say too much about it right now, because it is just in its infancy.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Well, I already told you about my latest book release, Observations of an Earth Mage. I have a short story called “Breakfast at the Laundromat” in Vanilla Heart Publishing’s new Passionate Hearts anthology. I love this story and its characters. I got the idea at the laundromat. We live in a teeny tiny cottage with no place for a washer and dryer, so my husband and I have to take our clothes out to wash. We really enjoy people watching while we are there, and the story evolved from there.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
I don't usually write—or read—romance novels. Somehow, they always seemed slightly silly to cynical me. People finding their soul mates—as if soul mates really existed! Really, give me a break ...
But then ... I met my soul mate. And suddenly, romantic stories don't seem so silly to me. Oh, I'm not talking bodice rippers—I still have no use for those. But stories with a strong element of romance, or the possibility of romance, now appeal to me greatly.
Then my publisher requested that I submit a short story to their upcoming Passionate Hearts anthology, and surprise! I find I actually even like to write romantic stories!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Characters - What are they thinking
One great thing about being a writer is that one can be a mind reader, something we can't do in real life. We can put in words what out characters are thinking. This is one way of adding depth to a character for the reader can see more of the character's nature. Using thoughts can show a villain's dastardly plans or give hints to what he plans as in foreshadowing. The hero or heroine can be shown agonizing over a decision. A character can say one thing and think another. Putting a character's thoughts will give the reader another dimension of the character.
Here are some things to remember. Use the character's way of speaking when thought-reading. Thoughts aren't always complete sentences is another thing to remember. Have your character think of specific things and not in generalities. What's important to them is the best way to show his or her nature. Make the character's emotions a part of his or her thoughts. Havign a character debate silently can also show more about his or her nature.
I once read a novel that was all in the head of a character who suffered from a stroke. This was a tour de force but an effective piece of writing. I wish I could remember the title or the author but I learned a lot about internal dialogue from this story. If anyone has any suggestions as to who the writer was and the title of the story, shout away. I think the author was a mystery writer usually.
Here are some things to remember. Use the character's way of speaking when thought-reading. Thoughts aren't always complete sentences is another thing to remember. Have your character think of specific things and not in generalities. What's important to them is the best way to show his or her nature. Make the character's emotions a part of his or her thoughts. Havign a character debate silently can also show more about his or her nature.
I once read a novel that was all in the head of a character who suffered from a stroke. This was a tour de force but an effective piece of writing. I wish I could remember the title or the author but I learned a lot about internal dialogue from this story. If anyone has any suggestions as to who the writer was and the title of the story, shout away. I think the author was a mystery writer usually.
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