Showing posts with label writers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writers. Show all posts

Saturday, August 7, 2010

InkSpot News: August 7, 2010

Beth Groundwater will be speaking to the Parker Writers Group on Sunday, August 8th at 2:00 pm about "The Making of a Writer" at the Parker Library, 10851 S. Crossroads Drive, Parker, CO. The public is welcome to attend, and Beth will sign books afterward.

Beth is also hosting a mixer for the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America at her home at noon on Saturday, August 14th. If you live in Colorado and have wondered about MWA, please contact Beth at her website to find out how to attend.

Monday, January 18, 2010

A Dozen Quotes for Writers

Keith here.

Although I have nothing philosophically against them, I'm not one of those guys whose office is festooned with inspirational posters. You know the kind I mean -- some quote written over a picture of a soaring eagle, crashing wave, or fluttering flag. Still along the way, I have collected some quotations that have applicability to the writer's life (or at least to this writer's life). Here's a list of a dozen favorites. They do not come with any guarantee as to veracity. Some are listed because they amuse me, some because they seem wise, and some because, I must admit, they inspire me.

1. "Writing is easy; I just open a vein and bleed." Red Smith, journalist

2. "This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense." Winston Churchill, politician/writer

3. "Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? It took me years to write, will you take a look?" Lennon & McCartney

4. "Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." E.L. Doctorow, novelist

5. "Whenever I am asked what kind of writing is the most lucrative, I have to say ransom notes." H.N. Swanson, literary agent

6. "I have never demanded of a set of characters that they do things my way. On the contrary, I want them to do things their way. In some instances the outcome is what I visualized. In most, however, it is something I never expected.... If I'm not able to guess with any accuracy how the damned thing is going to turn out..., I can be pretty sure of keeping the reader in a state of page-turning anxiety." Stephen King, novelist

7. "Paranoia strikes deep. Into your life it will creep." Buffalo Springfield

8. "The instant my first book was accepted for publication, I switched from being delusional to being tenacious." L.M. Vincent, author

9. "In our field there are only two kinds of stories -- the salable and the unsalable. Our highest acclaim is a two word sentence -- 'It sold.'" William Campbell Gault, novelist

10. "On all great subjects, much remains to be said." John Stuart Mill, philosopher

11. "Happy and bouyant don't force you into action on the page; you go shopping when you're up." Margaret Drabble, novelist

12. "No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money." Samuel Johnson, man of letters

Please add your own favorites in the comment section!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

What Not To Wear

by G.M. Malliet

I was fascinated to read that the new Newseum in D.C. features a pair of glamorous turquoise slippers worn by the Wonkette as she wrote her blog. Fascinated, and more than a little jealous. No one is ever going to ask me to donate my giant black furry writing slippers, which look like something one might wear to compete in the Iditarod. Still less, I imagine, would anyone, including me, want my yoga pants on display for posterity. But this, topped off with either a T-shirt or a sweater, is my writing uniform.

I also sometimes wear a baseball cap that says "Writer" across the front. This honestly helps when I get stuck for inspiration.

Since I can't find an image of the Wonkette's slippers, and I am not about to provide a photo of the real me at work, I will illustrate this blog with another interesting fashion statement - the Pope's red shoes, which are generating more press than any other aspect of his visit. (We saw him yesterday in his Popemobile [which is very cool], travelling down Pennsylvania Avenue.) I am trying to convince my husband that he really needs to own a pair of red shoes like these. Once seen, never forgotten.

Ok, the truth now. What stylish writerly apparel would you be forced to donate to the Newseum?

(Photo by Reuters)

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Playing Cleudo

By G.M. Malliet

This will be a shortish blog because I seem to have lost a character and I have to go look for him.

My work in progress has about a dozen key characters, and I feel like a mother cat with kittens. They keep wandering off. (Wasn't Winston supposed to be in the castle libary, dang it? But there he is in the sitting room talking with Tom. And where did I put Ninette?) Since they are all suspects, I have to keep track of where they are at any given moment. And where they tell the police they were.

Last night I realized I would have to come up with a schematic or floorplan of some kind, showing where each character is during the key hours leading up to the murder. I am beginning to wish I had taking a drafting course.

What I really think I need, though, is a dollhouse...then I could move the little figures about and take a photo of each new configuration in, say, half-hour increments.

How do you guys keep your timelines straight? Would some online site like Second Life help with this, do you think? Or software like Storyboard? I don't know much about how all that works. I just know I need to be able to visualize where all my "kittens" are.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

An interview with Louise Penny, author of the Canadian cozy mysteries Still Life and A Fatal Grace (published in Canada as Dead Cold)

by G.M. Malliet

Photo by Gary Matthews

Q: Still Life was short-listed for the Debut Dagger of the Crime Writers Association of Great Britain. After publication, Still Life won Britain's New Blood Dagger and Canada's Arthur Ellis Award for Best First Novel. It also won the Dilys award from the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association and landed on Kirkus Review's 2006 list of top ten mysteries.

And yet, you have said this novel nearly did not find a publisher. Do you have any thoughts as to why? Is the "cozy" perhaps a harder sell in New York than the "noir?"

A: When I finally found an agent her perception, before we sold it, was that the cozy was a harder sell in the UK than in New York. She said British readers were tired of it, having read, and bred, so many of them. But that Americans still loved the gentler, more idylized, stories. I wasn't so sure. But she proved to be right. The British reception has been good, and strong, but I have to say I think the US readers are really open to the traditional style. For which I'm grateful! I have no problem at all saying these are cozies, that's what I set out to write, as a homage to all the greats I loved, and still love, to read. It amazes me a little that this fine form is seen as incapable of also being rich, emotionally satisfiying and even challenging. Happily, this is a great community, which makes room for everyone.

In terms of it being so hard to find anyone interested in Still Life I think it was probably the combination of being a traditional tale set in Canada. It's frustrating but I do understand that agents and editors get a huge number of submissions and they make snap decisions. But it breaks my heart knowing how other writers have had the courage to start a book, finish it, send it out, and then finally give up. How many fantastic stories are shoved under beds or in drawers? I almost gave up with Still Life and was just about to put it away. Because of that my husband Michael and I have helped start an award like the Debut Dagger through the Crime Writers of Canada. It's for the Best Unpublished First Crime Novel and this inaugural year the winner was Phyllis Smallman, for her wonderful debut novel Marguerita Nights. We feel sure she'll be published now.

Q: The photos on your Web site offer a glimpse of a fictional, postcard-perfect village called Three Pines located in Canada's Eastern Township region. How much of Three Pines is like your own village, and how much of it is your fantasy of a St. Mary Mead type of village?

A: It's almost all fantasy, physically. Though this is an area of rolling hills and small mountains, of forests and lakes. But Three Pines itself is my dream village, my safe place. The place I'd create if God allowed me. What isn't made up is the feel of the village. I think of Three Pines as a state of mind. A village occupied by people who have made conscious choices in their lives. Not because they've never been hurt, not because they're too protected, or foolish, or shallow to know that the world can be a dreadful place. No. It's for that very reason they've all made their choices. They've all been hurt. As have we all. But when wounded some people become embittered, cynical, sarcastic. They hurt back. But some, and I sometimes think they're the ones most wounded, make another choice. They know nothing good comes of giving in to our darker instincts. And so they turn to what Lincoln in his Second Inaugural Address called, 'The better angels of our nature.' Three Pines is a place where kindness trumps cruelty, where people help each other, and care. Where sharing isn't a word to be laughed at and even an embittered old poet is welcomed. There's that wonderful line from Auden is his poem to Melville - 'Goodness exists; that's the new knowledge/His terror had to blow itself quite out/To let him see it.'

In these books, and in Three Pines, there's terror, there's the wretched, stinking horror of the murder of someone they knew, by someone they know. But finally, these books, and Three Pines, are about goodness. The choice to be good, and to see good.

Q: Your background is as a radio journalist for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Was that experience a help or a hindrance in writing fiction?

A: Wonderful question. It was a bit of a mixed bag. When writing news for the radio there's almost no character devolopment, description, mis-direction (you hope). Half a page and the story's over. When I started writing Still Life I was sure it would be over in a page and a half. 'An elderly woman was killed last night in the Eastern Townships village of Three Pines. Chief Inspector Gamache expects to make an arrest.' Good night.

On the plus side, I got to watch people as they reacted to extreme events in their lives. You don't generally end up on CBC radio if nothing is happening. I interviewed people on my show because either something extremely good or terrible had happened in their lives. For decades I saw how people absorbed those blows, sometimes with such courage it almost brought me to my knees, and other times with rage and violence. I covered accidents, illnesses, conflicts and the quieter tragedies of poverty and despair. All of that helped me try to understand our apparently limitless capacity for grace, and cruelty. It also helps put things in perspective. People have real problems. I don't. If a book doesn't end up on the bestsellers list, isn't well reviewed, well received, I'll be sad. But I've seen the end of the world, and that isn't it.

Q: Which books or writers do you feel have most influenced your writing?

A: Agatha Christie, definitely. Dorothy Sayers, Michael Innes. As you see, I'm old school. Isabel Allende is amazing as is Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They both have a layer of magical realism I connect to and try to bring to Three Pines.

Q: Who do you picture as the actor who might play your fictional detective Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Surete du Quebec?

A: Whoohoo. What a fun question. Hmmm. Probably a cross between Lorne Greene (now dead of course) in his Pa Cartwright days and Patrick Stewart as Captain Picard. I also, and this might be nuts, see Kelsey Grammer. Yes, that one. He's a bit too old because I think they'd need to cast a person slightly younger than Gamache's mid-fifties, so he isn't eighty and still trying to be sixty or so. But Mr Grammer is capable of being an adorable intellectual, has a great sense of humour, and I've seen him in 'straight' roles where he has an amazing presence. He owns the screen. You'd need that with Gamache. Perhaps Vanessa Redgrave.

Q: What are your writing habits? Do you aim for a set number of pages a day, or hours at the desk? Do you have a special place where you write, or are you of the kitchen-table school of writing?

After A Fatal Grace/Dead Cold I rented a loft space in the nearby village and I write there. Six days a week. At least 1,000 words a day. I've found that while I love to think of myself as a free spirit, I'm not. Left to myself I'd eat gummy bears and watch Oprah all day. I need structure. Success for me depends upon structure and perseverence. My brother once told me a saying, The harder you work the luckier you get. I'd agree with that. Hard work doesn't garantee success, but laziness or fear or half-measures can sure handicap you. I know. I've tried all three.
The other thing I do, that I swear is potent, is a run a bubble bath and dream. I practice my own Oprah interview. I fly first class to London to accept a huge award. I win the Nobel Prize. Doesn't matter. I make up wonderful reviews for the books. I've learned that there are enough people who are willing, and even happy, to put you in your place. To criticise. And I have to be prepared for that, and even open to it. But I don't have to cut myself down. No. I have to do that opposite. I have to love myself.

Q: What is next for the series?

A: I'm actually off on a world tour in the fall then the third book, The Cruelest Month is coming out. Each Gamache book is set in a different season. So far we've had Autumn and Winter. The Cruelest Month is set in Easter - April - in Three Pines. The villagers decide to celebrate Easter by doing a little raising of the dead themselves, only to have one of their number die of fright at the seance. Enter Armand Gamache.

We still have Summer to go.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

An Apology for Mystery Writers

By G.M. Malliet
My husband and I have a small pond at the back of our patio. It’s a legacy from the man who previously owned our house. The pond is about five feet long, three feet wide, and two feet deep. About the size of a shallow grave, in fact. A small concrete turtle sits on the edge of this pond and picturesquely regurgitates water from a tube in its mouth.

I’ll admit, it’s a charming idea to have this thing around to create a Zen-like tinkling background noise all day long. The gurgling turtle serves as a daily reminder to us of mankind’s mysterious and eternal connection with nature, and so on. Birds and even raccoons often stop by for a quick bath. Cute.

But. The maintenance is nonstop. It’s painful to spend every weekend cleaning out the leaves and assorted gunk that collects in our little pond, and unclogging the turtle’s stopped-up tube for the hundredth time.

The other day the pond’s electric pump gave out, the turtle spat no more, and we stood looking at our bacteria-infested, mosquito-breeding pond water debating if it wouldn’t be better to just fill the thing up with dirt and be done with it. Plant rosebushes or an evergreen there, instead.

Or, better yet, pour concrete inside and top it all off with something useful, like an outdoor fireplace.

The latter option held the most promise. But as we weighed our choices, not to mention our chances of finding a bricklayer who would show up as promised, I said, thinking aloud, really: “Damn. It’s too bad we don’t have a dead body we’re trying to hide.”

It is at moments like these my husband gets a startled, wary look in his eyes, like Joan Fontaine when she realizes Cary Grant has probably just done away with his best friend Binky. You’d think Bob would be used to it by now. Any man who at least once a week finds a cryptic, scrawled note in the kitchen that says something like “Nightshade -- fatal dose? Cowbane better?” should really have learned by now to shrug off these mystery writer moments.

So I hastily added, “Just kidding, dear. You’re too large to fit in there. But what if…”

I wandered away, a glazed look in my eyes that he now recognizes as a sign I’m off to kill someone on paper.

This kind of thing probably does keep spouses on their toes.

But Bob has nothing to worry about.

Really.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

InkSpotters at Malice Domestic


Lotsa InkSpotters will be traveling to Arlington, Virginia for Malice Domestic, May 4-6, 2007. Be sure to check out their panels, or just say hello.

Deb Baker
5/5/2007 at 9:00 am
The Craft of Detection-Sleuths Who Craft More Than A Killer's Fate

Karen MacInerney
5//07 at 9:00 am
New Kids On the Block

Sue Ann Jaffarian
5/5/2007 at 10:30 am
Gumption-These Sleuths Have Plenty!

G.M. Malliet
5/5/2007 at 10:30 am
Short Story Panel

Chuck Zito
5/5/2007 at 10:30 am
Moderating "It's A Man's World: Guys With Attitude"

Susan Goodwill
5/5/2007 at 2:30 pm
Murder in Paradise:Death among the Beautiful People

Candy Calvert
5/5/07 at 4:00 pm
Mystery and Medicine: What makes the murder go down?

Joanna Slan
5/6/07 at 10:30 am
Undaunted Sleuths: Murder Most Adventurous

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Procrastinator

by G.M. Malliet

I happened to catch Laura Lippman on the CBS Early Show on March 15, talking with Harry Smith about the writing life. She mentioned that she writes almost every morning in a coffee shop near where she lives. She doesn't do this for the ambience, nor even for the coffee. She does this to get away from her laundry.

"The thing about being a stay-at-home writer is that laundry becomes immensely attractive and seductive," she said.

I knew exactly what she meant. I think every writer in the world, famous or no, fiction or non, gets this.

I once heard a writer say her house was never so clean as when she had a looming deadline.

Faced with a blank page that you're supposed to be filling with type, almost any other activity starts to look really good. Closet cleaning, bathroom-tile scrubbing, venetian-blind dusting, even bill paying. Of particular fascination to me--rising to nearly the same level as the siren call of the laundry--is the dusty picture frame. You may have noticed that picture frames tend to collect dust along the top, a fact that--until I hit a rough patch in, say, Chapter 13--triggered no particular alarms. But suddenly, nothing would do but that I find a dust rag and furniture polish and get to work on every frame in the room. Chapter 13 be damned, and it probably will be.

There has, simultaneously (while the dusty frame emergency was growing to crisis proportions), been a dead moth "living" in my overhead light globe ( if there is a better expression for "light globe"I would be grateful to the person who supplies it) for at least a month, probably more. Probably years.

In my moments of communion with the Muse, as I cast my eyes heavenward, I notice the corpse of him/her. This poor moth. I am never, interestingly enough, as a crime writer, moved to do anything about this. Investigate it, or something. I just sit there staring blankly upwards. To do something about it would require getting out a ladder and stuff and I really don't have time: I'm busy staring into space.

I don't know what this says about me as a writer or as a person, for that matter. I should bury the poor moth, who, after all, has harmed no one, but somehow I never get around to it.

I guess it says that I don't procrastinate just any old way. I am highly selective about my choice of procrastination activities. Unlike Joe Moore, who is clearly a highly disorganized procrastination dilettante.

Blogging might turn out to be another, powerful form of procrastination for me, but I can tell already it's going to be wa-a-a-y more fun than dusting.