The Story Starts Here

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Originally published at The Stiletto Gang on 03.25.15

One of the most common question a writer gets asked is “Where do your ideas come from?”

Once my brother made me lay on his floor so he could tape outlines of me all over his bedroom carpet as though his room had been the site of a mass murder; we found it was surprisingly difficult to get just the right pose so that all the limbs were showing and you didn’t just have weird potato shaped outlines. (Yes, I know that was an odd transition, but I’ll circle back I promise.) When was 12, I told my Dad I had a stove box to make a Halloween costume out of he got out the black and white spray paint and turned my best friend and I into Two Fools in Pair-o-Dice; our heads came out the one dots – naturally. My mom’s friend once had eye surgery and had a rather large bandage, so my mom painted on an eye over the bandage and added a great set of false lashes. Why did we do these things? Honestly, the question never occurred to us. Had you asked at the time we probably would have said, “Why not?” My family has a culture of creativity and odd projects from passing thoughts are the norm not the exception. And as is often the case with cultures, I didn’t think to question it until someone from a different culture asked, “So why don’t you put mayo on fries?”  Or in the case of my writing, “How do you come up with your ideas?”

The people asking don’t mean anything by the question, they are genuinely interested. The problem is that at any given time I’m vacillating between two of my personalities, Helpful Instructor Bethany and Diva Artiste Bethany. Helpful Instructor is usually nice, but Diva Artiste is kind of… well, I won’t use the B-word as we are in a family friendly forum, but you get the idea, and sometimes it’s a struggle to rein Diva Wench back in. Helpful Instructor realizes that the questioner was not raised in a culture of creativity and they are asking for help understanding the creative process. Diva Artiste imperiously demands how anyone cannot have ideas. Ideas are literally littered on the sidewalk, in the newspaper, on the radio, sleeting through the universe like a tiny meteorite looking for a receptive brain (Terry Pratchett, you are missed) and all you really have to do to have an idea is make your brain receptive. It’s easy to do – read blogs by creative people (thanks), buy creative people presents (ok, maybe not really on that one, but I like books, you know, just in case), try new things. But the number one tip that Helpful Instructor or Diva Artiste both agree on, is to ask “What if?”

Any topic can work. Earlier this week there was a news story about a man who ran from the police and got stuck in mud.  What if you had been that man – up to your knees in river mud, unable to move, sinking slowly? What would you do?

What if I… What if you… What if they… The story starts there and you can decide the ending – just answer the question.

Good Days & Bad Days

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Originally posted on Girlfriends Book Club on 03.12.15

Writing, as a profession, has many drawbacks – low pay, near constant rejection, and of course, the perception that anyone with two fingers and maybe a toe for the spacebar can do whatever it is an author does. In popular imagination what a writer does seems to consist mainly of drinking, living in dilapidated, Miss Havesham-esque hovels, and pulling genius 500 page books out of their butt in 6 weeks or less. And most people think they could manage that – you know if they sat down and really tried. I’m not entirely sure what they base this on other than the fact that Havasham-esque dilapidated drinking while turning random crap into a term paper is how most people remember college.

Now physically it is possible that typing 40 words per minute for 6 hours a day (I’m leaving 2 hours per work day for eating, bathroom breaks, and cat videos) could get you a 500 page work in about 9 days. (40 words x 60 min. = 2400 words, 250 words per page = 9.6 pages per hour & 57.6 pages per day x 8.75 days = 504 pages with time left over for an extra cat video). The problem is that the words don’t already exist – they have to be invented, discovered, and strung together in the right way. Even for this blog (currently a mere 229, 230, 231 words) I’ve already deleted about as many words as I’ve written. You need words that not only mean the right thing, but sound like the thing, and conjure imagery so that the reader can see the right thing. Basically, finding the right words is not as easy as it looks. But it’s also one of the best things about writing.

Not every word I write is gold. But I have written a few things that have a beautiful symmetry, a fricative taste in the mouth, and leave a crunchy thought in the brain. Those are the good days. And those are the days that keep me pursuing writing. Because sometimes, if I work hard enough, I get to make something wonderful, artistic and meaningful.

But now here’s a picture of a cat in bread – because today is not one of those days.

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Genre Bending

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Originally posted on The Stiletto Gang Blog 03.11.15.

I read Marjorie Brody’s post yesterday “Passion Knows NoGenre” with interest. Marjorie was discussing that she hates being tied to one particular genre, but that the general industry wisdom is to do exactly that – stick to one thing! I love Marjorie’s rebellious flare, but the topic also tied into something I’ve been pondering for awhile: pen names and branding.

As a graphic designer with over a decade of industry experience I have referred to myself periodically as a “branding expert”. Branding is about capturing the concrete and implied qualities of a company or person in their visual, advertising, and on-line representations. Branding seems trivial to some, but as human beings we do it ALL the time. Only most sociologists call it “stereotyping”. Humans seem to prefer to have a short little label to stick on people. We don’t really like being forced to confront the broad spectrum of human reality – it takes too long and we’ve got better things to do with our time. What I do as a graphic designer is try to lodge the preferred stereotype in a consumers mind before they apply their (usually not as complementary) own.

Which is why I don’t usually tell my graphic design clients that I’m a writer.  It confuses my brand.  I can see the thought bubble form: If she writes, then she can’t really be a graphic designer; everyone knows you can’t have TWO talents.  Fortunately, the writer brand is equivalent with “poor” so when I tell writer friends that I also do graphic design they just nod.  But industry wisdom has the same “does not compute” problem with genre.  “But she writes Mystery, she can’t also write (fill in the blank).”

And up until now the only way to write something different was to use a pen name. But with the online world being what it is and with lawyers being blabbermouths, keeping a pen name identity a secret is hard to do.  The other problem is that as writers have become more and more responsible for their own publicity they realize that it’s hard enough getting recognition for one name, let alone building buzz for an entirely new, second name.
Which is why I find the development of the new style of pen name so interesting.  “Wrting as” has become the marketers new favorite phrase. Such as: Laura Spinella writing as L.J. Wilson pens Ruby Ink! (I’m half way through my advance copy and it’s a fantastic, saucy romp of a book – pick it up on March 31!)  “Writing as” is now code for “I’m not writing in the same genre, so be prepared for something different.”  And I couldn’t be happier about it. At last writers have found a way to break out of the genre trap! Perhaps in a few years Pen Names will be the new industry wisdom. We’ll just have to see which pen name Marjorie chooses.

Goldfish Brain

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I’m monumentally bad at dates.  The Christmas after I got married my mother-in-law got a new pair of sneakers and she said, “Oh, I wish I’d had these on XX of some-month-Bethany-doesn’t remember.”  And I said, “Really? What happened on that date?”  And they all stared at me because it turned out that was the day I got married.  Which may seem a bit rude to my poor husband, but in my defense I also can’t remember what year I graduated from college.  And one time I spent an entire day being really annoyed because my friends kept calling me (I was in the middle of a project) to wish me happy birthday.  Every single call was a surprise.  So, I’m not saying that I will absolutely forget that some day (14th?  15th? No, seriously, what day is it?) in February is Valentine’s Day, I’m just saying that the odds are not in my husband’s favor.  But on the other hand that means if he remembers all that lovely chocolate will be a wonderful surprise.

Unfortunately, this type of memory blockage also means that my memory for VERY IMPORTANT FACTS related to my characters is also somewhat lacking. Like last names, eye color, the details of their backstory.   Given enough time and rewrites it all gets a bit fuzzy.  Bulletproof Mascara, for instance went through 9.5 rewrites (I’m counting the typo catching pass as .5 of a rewrite).  That means that the villain Jirair Sarkassian went from being Texan to Armenian somewhere around draft 6.  And in An Unseen Current (Available everywhere April 28! Available for pre-order on kindle now!!) I dropped an entire villain between draft 1 and 2.  Which wouldn’t be much of a problem if I didn’t insist on writing sequels.  It’s a bit of an embarrassment to have to read your own book to find out what you wrote, but apparently readers insist on continuity and well, just generally making sense.  But having just read Bulletproof Mascara and Compact with the Devil (in preparation for the forthcoming High-Caliber Concealer), I can honestly recommend my books to people.  I’m very funny and my plots actually do make sense.  I give myself two thumbs up.  I probably can’t review myself on Goodreads, can I?

The Stubborn Way

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Originally published on 02.03.15 on the Girlfriends Book Club.

We’re pondering New Year’s Resolutions and rejection here on the Girlfriend’s Book Club for the next few weeks, and while I gave up New Year’s Resolutions some years ago (if I want to start something new or improve myself, I probably shouldn’t wait for January) rejection seems a bit like my oxygen dependency problem – it’s just a part of life.

My first love / day job as a graphic designer keeps my life chock full of rejection. Even my business partner seems to enjoy rejecting a lot of my ideas. (Why can’t I put El Presidente on my business cards? What do you mean it’s not professional?) Between the beat down of the college critique forum and a decade of working in the field hearing client opinions that range from “um… I think you missed the mark” to “I hate it so much I would burn it” I’ve gotten pretty good at handling rejection. (Ok, so maybe they didn’t actually say “burn it” but I saw it in their eyes.)

So you would think that it would be easier for me to take rejection from publishers. But it doesn’t. Every rejection comes with a large packet of self-doubt. Maybe that book isn’t any good. Maybe I should rewrite? Maybe I should burn it? Maybe I should stop kidding myself that I have any writing talent at all and go home, snuggle with my dog and drink a bottle of Jameson? (Admittedly, I would not be drinking straight Jameson because I’m a pansy. So then, I’d stop and think, “If I’m mixing it, maybe I should switch to something cheaper?” Which would devolve into me just having some Ginger Ale and probably taking the dog for a walk.)But what I have learned from graphic design is that many things get better with perseverance. Draft two is almost always better than draft one. And stubborn people can find a way to make dreams come true.

Which is why I am so happy to announce that my murder mystery, An Unseen Current, set on Orcas Island (In Washington State’s beautiful San Juan Islands) with its cast of quirky characters and too weird to be true events (some of which are really true) is finally going to be published on April 28, 2015. I was so excited the day I first sent the manuscript off and so sad the day it first came back to me. Perhaps it was too odd, or perhaps it was too Washington and not enough New York for the big guys? Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m just glad that it has finally found a home and release date. So if you enjoy some quirks with your cozy’s please mark your calendar to enjoy An Unseen Current!

UnseenCurrent_Vook-600x899

AN UNSEEN CURRENT


You never know what’s beneath the surface.


When Seattle native Tish Yearly finds herself fired and evicted all in one afternoon, she knows she’s in deep water. Unemployed and desperate, the 26 year old ex-actress heads for the one place she knows she’ll be welcome – the house of her cantankerous ex-CIA agent grandfather, Tobias Yearly, in the San Juan Islands. And when she discovers the strangled corpse of Tobias’s best friend, she knows she’s in over her head. Tish is thrown head-long into a mystery that pits her against a handsome but straight-laced Sheriff’s Deputy, a group of eccentric and clannish local residents, and a killer who knows the island far better than she does. Now Tish must swim against the current, depending on her nearly forgotten acting skills and her grandfather’s spy craft, to con a killer and keep them alive.  Pre-order for kindle.

Flying Flags

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Originally published on 01.27.15 at The Stiletto Gang.

I had to laugh when I read Debra Goldstein’s post yesterday about football being “only a game”.  I live in Washington State, which, in case you’re living in a hole, is home of the Seahawks, contenders the upcoming football high-holy day – the Super Bowl.  Although, even when living in a hole, I’m fairly certain that you probably felt the Beast Quake or possibly Richard Sherman dropped by to tell you how awesome he is, and then probably stuck around to make pointedly blunt statements about the corruption in the NFL.  Football may be only game, but tis the season for every football fan everywhere to lose their dang minds.

As I’m only an occasional football watcher I find most of the fan-actions a bit mystifying.  Twelfth man flags decorate every building, a local tattoo parlor is offering a 12’s tattoo special and last game against the Packers the Seattle City Council banned cheese from the premises.  Like Debra, I say, “But it’s only a game!”  Not that I say that very loudly – my husband would glare at me.

But also like Debra, I identify with the way fans pour over every detail, dissect plays, and watch every report on the subject.  A fan, no matter the subject, wants to know all about the thing they love.  So I don’t wave a twelfth man flag, but the books on my shelf tell their own tales (pun intended).  Anyone visiting my house knows where I stand on the topic of Lord of the Rings (pro) and the work of cover artist Thomas Canty (also pro) and Tintin (highly pro). I don’t have any tattoos, but I can quote The Walrus and The Carpenter – it’s tattooed on my brain.  And as for cheese… no, sorry, I have nothing there. Cheese is never banned at my house and neither are books.

Am I the only “12th Man” uber book fan out there?  What “flags” are flying on your bookshelf?

Reader Power

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Writers, as far as I can tell, are people with too many stories stuffed in their heads. In order to stay sane, we have to get the stories out. It’s a good system; it ensures that only fictional people get murdered and that more every day girls get to marry princes. Writers are also, by and large, readers.  So you’d think that we’d have an understanding of our own readers. But most of us are somewhat mystified as to why we have readers. The idea that someone would actually want to read any of my books is still surprising. I just make up stories and then… people actually read them. That’s crazy!

Don’t get me wrong; I think my stories are awesome. I think everyone should read them. But “everyone” is a rather abstract concept, with safety built into it’s very generality. On the other hand, a singular reader is frighteningly specific and frighteningly judgmental.  Think of your day, and your telling this really funny story to your co-worker about your college roommate who once got so drunk that she projectile vomited into someone’s hair.  Now picture your grandmother standing there listening. It kind of puts a crimp on you miming how your roommate popped out of her tube top, doesn’t it?  That’s the power that a singular reader has to stymie a writer. The harsh judgment of a reader can make the creative wellspring dry up in a flash.  Which is why every time a reader seeks me out to tell me that they enjoyed my book, I sincerely appreciate it.  Each compliment is a bolster against the times when someone tells you they found a typo in your book or they don’t understand why you didn’t just make the main character a man.  Thoughtful, lovely readers make all the difference to a writer.  I may not always know they’ve given their time and money to reading one of my stories, but I will always try to give my readers a story worthy of their expenditure.

The Dealer in Your Neighborhood

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I was talking to a librarian the other day and she laughed when I said I thought librarians were like drug dealers.  But they really are! They even target the little kids! Get them hooked on the picture books, next thing you know the kids are applying for library cards and mainlining Harry Potter, Divergent and TheTesting.  Give it a few years and YA just won’t give the same buzz and the kids have to move on to bigger and bigger fiction.  And that’s when the librarians start pushing the hardcore stuff – Faulkner, Atwood, Joyce. If you’re not careful your kid could end up reading the entire Lord of the Rings even though there’s a perfectly good director’s extended cut blue ray back home.

And just like pushers, librarians are extremely open-minded.  They don’t care where you’ve come from.  Rich, poor, or in between – all library cards are the same to them.  (Unless it’s an out of state card, in which case you will have to pay the buck and get a local card.)  They don’t even judge when all you want to read is Romance novels; they just point you toward the romance section and recommend new authors who also write in the kilt and dragon milieu.  It’s a slippery slope, my friends. You go into the library for the videos and the free internet access and the next thing you know you’re reading and using words like “milieu.”

So, if that kind of blatant pushing of mind-expanding education is acceptable to you, then you should probably hug the next librarian you see.  Just remember that the VIG on those late library books is due next week…

Hell What Now?

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The Navy SEALs must pass through something called Hell Week in order to become an actual SEAL. If they can’t take Hell Week they can always ring the bell that signals that they are opting out and then they get coffee and donuts. For five and a half days the SEAL candidates are expected to operate on four hours of sleep while being cold, wet, and presumably yelled at (since no one seems to do anything in the military without being yelled at). To this I say… What pansies.

OK, the cold and wet does sound miserable. But try operating for three months on four hours of sleep while being constantly yelled at and then having someone puke in your pants. And in your hair. And on just about everything else. Then we’ll talk. OK, OK, so you can snap a man’s neck with your bare hands. I can shoot milk out my boob. What else you got?

All kidding aside, one of the unfortunate side effects of becoming a mother (or probably a Navy SEAL) is that sleep is immediately curtailed. Which makes lots of things, for instance, writing novels and running a business, more difficult.

Side effects of prolonged sleep deprivation include:

  • Weight Gain
  • Loss of Sex Drive
  • Impaired Alertness, Concentration, and Problem Solving
  • Depression
  • Aging Skin
  • Memory Loss
  • Greater chances of death due to accidents
  • Greater chances of other health problems

It’s not that being a mom is so difficult; it’s that being anything else, while being a mom just increased in difficulty due to our adorable little time sucking children and the constant sleep deprivation. Which makes every word I type a minor triumph. I will not be ringing the bell today.

PS Please forgive any typos I may make. I blame them on my daughter.