The Opposite Sex--and How We REALLY Feel About Breasts

Thought this blog title might get your attention. Here's the story.

I was invited to a writers' group four years ago--shortly after I signed my first contract as a novelist, and well into my career as a book editor. The writers read aloud and I was supposed to offer "an editor's critique." One man, a doctor actually, read from his novel. The heroine was a nurse. And the book was, simply put, awful. Most of all it was awful because he inserted every stereotype of a nurse--and women--possible. I felt sorry for any women who ever had to work a shift with him. The heroine, at one point, from her point of view . . . thought this: "Becky looked down at her ample bosom and smiled with satisfaction at how they looked in her uniform."

Okay. About there, I wanted to spit out my coffee. Better yet, I wanted to spit it out ON HIM (though I had this weird feeling he might like that). I said, and I quote, "We don't think about our breasts that way." He said, "I think most women do. They like to show them off." I glanced about the room and asked for a show of hands of women . . . and of COURSE no one raised her hand. We don't think about our "bosoms." Ample or otherwise.

This is the problem with choosing a protagonist of the opposite sex. I have a very "male," assertive personality. I am all female, but I like to play poker, drink martinis, and I love to laugh loud and long and just can hang with a bunch of guys and watch football or boxing. I hate cooking, the PTA, and anything that sort of feels "female," and it's been a good ten years since I wore a dress. Now, I realize I am stereotyping typical "man vs. woman," "Mars vs. Venus" stuff, but the fact is most of us will acknowledge there are often fundamental differences between the sexes. Most of us are somewhere along the spectrum.

If you are going to write from the POV of the opposite sex, you better know what you're doing lest women chuck the book across the room and men give up in disgust. According to surveys, men think about sex about every 30 seconds or so. So, while they may be looking to get laid a lot, they don't necessarily think about how their ass looks in a pair of jeans. And gay men and women are yet another nuanced portrayal, just as I think it is important when writing a character of a different race or religion to acknowledge those struggles. We may be a melting pot, and there may be equality (though that's debatable), but in actuality, there are differences between us.

For the record, I don't think about my bosom except to be aggravated when bra shopping or trying to exercise. For the additional record, pay attention when you write from the opposite sex. As Jude was trying to in the last set of comments (previous post), getting inside the head of the other gender can be really difficult.

Anyone care to take this subject on?

Writing What You Sort of Know

There's an adage all writers have heard at one time or another: Write what you know. If you don't want to write a memoir, then writing what you know limits you, right? I've had writers tell me that.

But there's more to that adage.

I have been emailed about five times in the last six months by college or high school students writing papers on me--or rather my books. Part of their assignments--and these students have been from across the U.S., so it's not all for one class--has been to write the author of the book they chose and ask him or her some questions, like why did you choose to write the book. Two students of the five or so picked Do They Wear High Heels in Heaven, a Red Dress Ink title. My sales for it were very good, and my editor told me that two weeks ago, with the comment, "That book proves writers don't have to write frothy, light books for chick lit readers to embrace it." Why did she say that? The main character has breast cancer. Her best friend is a gay man who has a horrific story of the events that occurred when he was "outed" in college. One of the people who wrote me about this book asked if I had breast cancer.

As I was writing the "back story," if you will, to this student, of the book's journey out of me and into my computer, I realized that in some ways, I wrote what I knew. I have close male friends with AIDS, men I adore. I had breast surgery for suspected cancer three years ago, two of my best friends had the disease. I nearly died from Crohn's disease 13 years ago--and my ex threatened to take my child from me by telling me he was considering subpoenaing my medical records as I lay dying. The character, Lily, in High Heels is a mother. As I wrote this student last week or so, I realized . . . wait . . . you don't write what you know. Not exactly. You write what you can empathically create.

According to Webster, this is the definition of empathy:

1 : the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it.
2 : the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this.

The capacity for this. THAT'S the mark of a true writer. That's what professors meant all those years ago when saying write what you know.

When I wrote Invisible Girl, I channeled six years or so of working in the Vietnamese refugee community as a volunteer English teacher, hearing their stories of life in the Philippine camps prior to gaining entrace here, their experiences as boat people, their lives in Vietnam. I could understand a mother's anguish, a soldier's disgust. I have that capacity. I cared about a man, years ago, with experiences from that era. It's empathy. That's what we do.

So blog readers. . . do you write what you know?

Do You Tell Aunt Mildred?

I have an honest-to-God confession to make. When I go to a cocktail party, I BEG, really and sincerely BEG, my significant other to tell people I am an actuary. I am not 100% sure what an actuary does except it involves numbers and predicting when you are going to drop dead so insurance companies can rate you before giving you life insurance, but it sounds dreadfully yawn-infesting. No offense to any actual actuaries who find their spreadsheets orgasm-inducing.

Why do I do this? I don't want to get stuck in a corner talking to someone who tells me their Great Aunt Mildred has a fabulous book that will be a GUARANTEED best-seller if only I will a) edit it and split the profits, or b) WRITE it for her based on her story idea and split the profits. If this sounds horrifying, it IS. And if you think it's rare, then you are drunk as you're reading this. Once you are a novelist--and have actually sold something people can buy at Barnes and Noble (that's the new question I get asked--self-published or can I really buy it at Barnes and Noble . . .?)--the Aunt Mildred factor comes out of the woodwork. I imagine even if you haven't yet published, if people know you write, the Aunt Mildred factor is alive and well. It happened to me two weeks ago and I cringed.

Okay . . . so in addition to this whole cringe-inducing problem, I have a spiritual faith that requires me to be compassionate. I must, must, MUST be gracious (which is why I pull the actuary routine and try to avoid it altogether). I will often feel compelled to read Aunt Mildred's tome. Now, as an aside, there are people who routinely read this blog who are writers and I HAVE read your stuff because we are online friends and that is different--you're writers pursuing this. YOU are not Aunt Mildred.

So the debate is . . . if Aunt Mildred has written something overrun with the passive voice, with no plot you can see, stilted dialogue, and a lead character who is laughably not grounded in reality . . . typos galore, POV hopping from sentence to sentence, do you tell Aunt Mildred? And, going a step further, if you try to coach Aunt Mildred, and she returns to you with the same horrific mess one month and a rewrite later, and if she reveals she has been taking writing classes at night for ten years (to which you wonder what is she learning), and she LOVES writing, do you let her happily toil, or do you say find a new hobby and stop wasting your time?

I have to say I was hired about ten years ago by a woman doctor who was writing about her family (a sort of Isabel Allende book) and I tried to tell her that it was unpublishable. She was so hostile, and so upset, and though I had been (I felt) gracious and honest, she said I had induced her to take to her bed for twenty-four hours with a migraine. Shoot the messenger, I guess.

The blog readers here--the regulars--run the gambit from brutally honest (you know who you are!) to more pep-talk-oriented. I myself try to honor anyone's commitment to writing. But is it a disservice? I know this is a difficult subject--so I am anxious to hear what everyone says.

Why You Have an Agent

An author I have come to . . . find . . . (what is the most gracious, most Buddhist way to put this?) unpleasant, because of her gossipy tendencies remarked--with her rather condescending manner--that my agent "doesn't have to do much," just sit and collect royalties on my books because it's a "given" I will get new contracts. Besides the fact this woman doesn't know me at all (honest! not at all), and besides the fact she couldn't POSSIBLY know all the details of my various deals, it's totally fallacious and pretty close to imbecilic.

In the last two weeks, this is a short list of SOME of the chaos of my writing career. You ready?

1) I agreed to a new three-book contract. He took the editor to lunch and they discussed it in detail and she embraced the concept I sent.
2) I discovered that my "cast-off" way of counting words (which is identical to my main editor's way) is NOT the method production is now using, and I am now, give or take, about 60 pages short in my new novel and need to re-insert a gruesome scene I previously cut for space, but now will put back in, thus entailing rewriting the back third of the book. My agent got the panicked call on Wednesday and tracked me down at the beach and conveyed this and that and the other until it was straight in my mind and my editor's.
3) Manuscript in point #2? Lost by overnight carrier on the way to my house with all the edits from NYC. Yes, lost.
4) My television development deal contracts came. They are 50 pages, single-space, and numb my brain with their details. I think I actually signed over my firstborn child. And children 2, 3, and 4. I'll visit them in L.A. My agent assures me this isn't so and walks me through it.
5) Two points of contract in #4 need to be clarified. He is talking, via a producer, with the president of a division of a major studio so I can get approval on paragraph 20,000 or whatever it is of this enormous contract.
6) A check I was expecting didn't arrive and he had to track it down in royalties.
7) A contract I was expecting . . . yup, lost. In the system, not by a carrier, but phone calls nonetheless.
8) My new proposal (HOT!) needs work. He thinks I am crowding too many characters into the beginning two chapters. I quote my agent: "Go to the beach and when you come home pretend you never read this before and see if I'm not right." Guess what? Yeah. He is. I am fixing.
9) The Bombshell line folded. I have a book now that is at loose ends and we have to discuss what to do with it.
10) There are probably items 11 through 100 I am not even thinking of at this moment.

THIS is why you need an agent.

To that end, writers will give you all sorts of advice--big agency or small? Lawyer or former editor . . . that sort of thing. I am with a boutique agency--small. Doesn't even have a website because through referrals and his existing stable of writers, he more than has his hands full. He's got writers at William Morrow, St. Martin's, MIRA, Harlequin, Penguin, Pocket, and so on. You get the idea.

Also, while people will give you all sorts of advice, it's a personal thing, too. Who do you you respect? Who do you mesh with? I have to be honest . . . I found out recently an author I know is signed with a woman, an agent, that I think is so horrific, I would sincerely think it was a deal with Satan to work with her. Now . . . she is big. BIG! But is there a 666 behind her ears, near her plastic surgery scars? I think perhaps. Can she negotiate a great deal. Sure. She can also nearly derail them with her over-the-top pain-in-the-ass ludicrous demands. For me? Well, I have to look in the mirror each morning, and I have to say having Satan represent me isn't something I can live with. My career might have had a different trajectory with another agent--in fact, it certainly would have. I've been places where an agent or two have tried to lure me to much bigger places with offices in L.A. and NYC. But in the end, I have book deals, I have a wonderful rapport with my editors, I have a TV deal, and I am at peace. I can live with that. This is my LIFE. Not just a job.

You might want a shark. You might want "the big name." You might be right for a boutique agency. Or one that does a lot of film deals. Figure out what you're looking for. It shouldn't be "anyone with a pulse." But know that, yes, indeed, you need one. That list I gave you? This isn't an insane two weeks. It's pretty standard. So yes, he earns his percentage. And for that, I am most grateful.

Can I Shut it Off?

Well, the great experiment of my life is can I ever shut my brain off? I spend a lot of time every day in prayer, and that is as close as I get to sort of slowing down my brain, but in general, it's always going a million miles an hour. Sometimes this is not what I want my brain to be doing. It's too worrisome, too intense, too exhausting. So . . . this past week was vacation.

My usual vacation is a working one. Laptop on, I will spend the day at Disneyworld or the pool or whatever, but race to check my wired life at night. I check in with my agent, my editor, whatever.

THIS vacation, I bagged the laptop. I told my agent not to call unless it was an emergency (and indeed, there was one). I didn't answer my phone, and I didn't check voicemail. I didn't blog.

By Day Four, my brain had slowed a bit. I had to seek that quiet space. I really did. I had to TELL myself to shut the hell up.

Of course, when a mini-crisis came up, then I was back in the game. But after twelve hours of worry and aggravation, I again reminded myself . . . just get in a relaxed space. BE in the MOMENT with the CHILDREN who rather like you to have FUN with them.

On the way home, I of course thought up a brand-new line for the opening of my new novel. I pondered how to repair the novel-in-crisis. But for a week, a blissful, wonderful week . . . I just was all about sand, what was for lunch, what I was going to drink at sunset, and taking showers outdoors (highly wonderful!). And that was a good thing. So I am back, feeling far less frazzled and far less intense. I don't know how long it will last. But for now . . .

Anyone else who copes with a brain that fires on all cylinders 24/7? Is it a NYC thing--lived most of my life up that way. Is it a writer thing? Or is it simply an insane thing? :-)

Snakes on a Plane

It's out. The bad a** Samuel L. Jackson in Snakes on a Plane. And what does Snakes on a Plane have to do with this blog? Plenty.

Snakes on a Plane delivers B-movie junk food perfectly. In the theater where I saw it, people were screaming/howling, the 2006 equivalent of going to The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The NY Times, of all papers, said it delivered B-movie entertainment--and did it well. The reviewer got it, as did a lot of online reviews I read. Not so the paper where I live. The reviewer DIDN'T get it. Not only did he pan the picture, he panned it while standing on a soapbox yapping about how inappropriate it is in today's travel climate (um . . . yeah . . . I am SURE terrorists are now going to sneak cobras on planes). And basically judged it against . . . well, non-B-movies. Which isn't fair.

You see . . . some movies deliver action and gore and violence and sex. And some deliver a message and period costumes.

Same for books. If you buy a book with a sassy pink cover and martini glass on it, expect a glossy beach read. Judge it as that. If it doesn't deliver, then . . . okay, but don't judge it against War and Peace. If it delivers more with its themes and characters--even better.

When people ask me what I write, and what book they should "start with" if they want to read my work, I first find out what they like to read. If it's a mob story they want, then I steer them toward THE ROOFER with the caveat that it's violent and gritty. If they want a romantic comedy, clean enough for most anyone's sensibilities today, no curse words, etc., then I steer them to MAFIA CHIC. If they can handle a book with a trannie is the heroine's best friend, then DIARY OF A BLUES GODDESS. And if they don't mind a woman who curses like a sailor and drinks a lot of tequila, then SPANISH DISCO will be fine.

Someone once tried to insult me by denigrating "chick lit." She did in front of a room full of people and put me on the spot. I reminded her there are books for everyone. I don't read commercial fiction all the time, in fact rarely. I read nonfiction. I just enjoy it . . . history books and philosophy books. But every once in a while, someone from my old book group will suggest something I had never thought about reading--and I am often pleasantly surprised. But always, always, I make sure that I understand what sort of reading experience I am getting for my money.

Snakes on a Plane may never win an Oscar. In fact, I can virtually guarantee it won't. But for people who want to have the "experience" of seeing it in a theater, it's fun. You have to judge it against its B-movie peers, just as you have to judge a book by what its aim is. If you want a bodice ripper with a happily ever after, then go ahead and read it and enjoy it and make apologies to no one. It's like people who apologize for watching some trashy TV show. Hey . . . it's your way to decompress, and if you want to watch a bunch of wackos stuck in a house on Big Brother, make some microwave popcorn and enjoy.

And just remember . . . next time you're on a plane? A snake may come up through the toilet and bite you!

A Beautiful Mess

I think of myself as a beautiful mess. With a nod to Jude, who visits this blog often, and is a minimalist with little clutter in his abode, my house is a beautiful mess. On the shelf above my desk, a single shelf about four and a half feet long, I have . . . one stained glass picture from my best friend, Pam; 10 (count 'em) Buddha statues; 1 statue of St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters; my Burpee Seed clock (see a couple of blog entries ago, "It's planting season"); mala beads; a set of mindful reminder cards from Thich Nhat Hanh; an incense burner, three candles; a framed poem by my youngest daughter; a crystal baby carriage that was a gift; and a beta fish named Blossom in a round bowl. One shelf.

But my mess doesn't stop there. I sleep too little and drink too much coffee all day. I can't SEE the top of my desk for all the papers; I play as hard as I work; I fill my life with as much activity as possible--but then crave moments of solitude when I don't answer my phone for DAYS on end. Don't even get me started on the complexities of my personal life.

I am a messy mother. I cannot cook, but I smother my kids with kisses and make them laugh. I play music and we dance until we fall down giggling, but I am late always, turning in their permission slips for field trips. I am the opposite of my mother who was gifted with homemaking skills that rival Martha, and who always cooked me a hot breakfast before school. Pop Tarts in the car are pretty normal around here.

And I realized something. When the Bombshell line closed, I got a flurry of fan mail from people who said they were sorry to see the line close and my heroines to go away. And at least five of those people said something along the lines of, "I really don't like your heroines . . . but they are very real and I'm drawn to them."

Well . . . I am one of those women NO ONE is lukewarm about. People love me . . . or they hate me, and not with a middling sort of hate, but with a grand hatred, even if I barely know them. (Ask my in-laws--execpt for my father-in-law, they despise me through and through.) The people who love me? They REALLY love me passionately. But I'm not a middle-of-the-road gal--and neither are my heroines.

I don't have neat heroines. No Martha wannabes, no orderly lives. No orderly jobs or relationships. They are grand messes, every one of them.

So am I working through some kind of Jungian identity with them? I don't think so. I am pretty comfortable with who I am. But I realize we create characters, often, who embody the traits we adore and the traits we despise. The people in my book who are most hated . . . disloyal people. I was raised to value loyalty. I dislike hypocrites. People with pious judgmental tendencies.

Heroines or heros . . . they are messy but loyal and fierce. We write what we admire. We write our villains with traits we abhor. My messy heroines may not be everyone's favorites . . . but they are very real.

So what traits do you give your characters? And what do you look for in your favorite heroines or heros?

Twist of the Screws

The life I live is really one of many peaks and valleys. I have friends whose lives go along pretty much status quo. Something a little sad may happen, a personal challenge. Something a little exciting may happen. But if theirs was a graph, the line would be fairly straight.

Not me. My graph would be insane. HUGE peaks. Really deep valleys. Part of that is I have a chronic illness so I have had a number of hospital stays and ER visits. Part of that is the joys and aches of raising four kids. Part of it is I have a career that is full of peaks and valleys and anxieties.

Now, when writing a novel, you are pretty much going to write about the second type of person. Much as the first type of person might be more of the "norm" (and really, what IS normal), it does not make for dramatic tale-telling.

Which brings me to plot twists. Sometimes they can get pretty ridiculous. Or you go to a movie and see a plot hole so huge you could drive the proverbial truck through it. But the thing is, you have to put your main character through the screws, the pits of despair, because seeing how he or she reacts to those calamities is a test of their mettle. I always say that you really don't KNOW, for sure, if your relationship is going to work if you only face calm seas. Have four kids at once with the stomach flu, and the washing machine pick that time to bust, and then your brother call you to bail him out of jail in the worst part of town, and THEN, maybe, you see what your other half is made of.

Which brings me to the next point. Today they have an arrest in the Jon Benet-Ramsey case. Does anyone, for a minute, doubt that if they did that in a novel, no one would believe it? Truth is always stranger than fiction. Thus, frankly, I have had some very intense and insane things happen to my characters. But when I write to the EXTREME, I never doubt for one second that it could happen. Write it realistically and you can suspend disbelief. Because in the end, you want those dramatic extremes. When you think things can't get any worse for your character . . . have something worse happen. THEN you see what that character is made of. Then you know if they are really as courageous and smart and determined as you think they are.

What sort of paces do you put your character through?

Shortcuts

I once read a proposal in a slush pile. It included the first three chapters, as this particular publisher dictated. And I was stunned--STUNNED--to read these words (paraphrased slightly from memory):

Carol, a dark-haired brunette with curly hair who looked like Elaine from "Seinfeld" . . . .

WHAT?! I saw the same sort of thing two years ago when a friend of a friend asked me to critique her work. She had what I call shortcuts for characters, "looked like Robert De Niro . . . " that sort of thing. I called the writer and sputtered, "You can't shorthand description like this!"

Sometimes shorthand is OK. It conveys something. But we also know how sick and tired readers got with chick lit writers mentioning Jimmy Choos or a certain type of shoe. It was meant to convey a particular type of character but ended up overused.

What shortcuts can you use? All writers have shortcuts. A few traits that convey a character by virtue of them. I have a dead fireman (a guardian angel of sorts) in my next Red Dress Ink title. He died in 9/11. As one member of my writers' group said, by virtue of that, it conveys "hero" status. A shortcut, if you will, in terms of characterization.

What else? A man who is rude to the waitress on a date? Instant pr*ck. We make snap decisions on characters the same way we sometimes do in real life.

Think of what you want to convey--and then how you can SHOW it (not tell). No, your character can't "look like Brad Pitt." But he can have a tattoo somewhere that says something dangerous. See?

Anyone? Shortcuts?

The Pitch

I just got a new three-book deal for Nocturne, as I blogged about yesterday. And that got me thinking . . . about pitches.

I know there are many ways to go about pitching your book. I know there are probably as many opinions about this as there are agents and writing gurus. But I thought I would share a few insights I've learned along the way--just me, in my experiences.

I sell on proposal. My usual proposal, if I am established with that editor, is five pages, max. It is, as my agent puts it, "the sizzle." It sounds a bit like marketing blurb, a bit like back cover copy, and includes enough of the plot to sound like there's action and movement. I describe the main character in fifty words or less.

I ALSO have a pitch that is 50 words or less about the ENTIRE novel. If I was a new writer, this would be what I would stick in my query. I do not use the "Da Vinci code meets Matrix" style pitches, because you can end up pitching to someone who a) hated those two works, or b) has such a build-up of that because they LOVED said two works so that you can't compete.

That said, I have to tell you something that was my pet peeve as an editor, and is the peeve of many of my editor pals. Unless I asked for it (and I never did), a 30-page detailed synopsis is just enough to make me scream. I'd rather read the friggin' book. AND if you cannot practice pitching--into a mirror, to a friend, to a critique partner--and get it down pat, I sincerely think you hurt yourself.

Why? In the six degrees of separation, and playing the convention and contacts game, you never know who your short, practiced, AWESOME pitch, if spit out at the right time, will entice. You never know. If you tell an editor, "My book is really hard to describe. Um . . ." you've lost. Why? Because if YOU as CREATOR can't decribe your book in terms that a commerical fiction editor can understand, then how can that person tell his or her team, marketing etc.?

When I go into my pitches, I nail my concept. The three-book pitch that got bought was turned in last Thursday. I had an offer yesterday. And let me tell you . . . I knew with conviction what my concept was. I'll tell you all about it later this year in anticipation of the series being released. But practice your pitch, folks. It's that important.

Industry News

I wasn't going to blog on this but . . .

This blog is really, for me, about craft. Not the blah-blah-blah of the ins and outs of my career or even any one particular bit of the industry. But I was asked in the comments of the previous entry . . . and so . . .

I write for MIRA, Red Dress Ink, Bombshell, and Penguin/NAL. I have two pen names, in addition to my name. And I loved, LOVED! writing for Bombshell. If you have never read a Bombshell, they were unusual in the field of romance publishing in that the heroine saves the day! She doesn't have to be "rescued"--she's a tough, smart, capable chick all her own. I got to write about a vampire, a boxing promoter, and Billie Quinn, my forensics genius and criminalist. The second Billie Quinn book is out in stores now.

Today, it was announced the Bombshell line is no more (as of January '07). Before the announcement came, I had already been offered a three-book deal (in addition to a stand-alone I have already turned in called BLOOD SON) to write for Nocturne, a new paranormal line. I love the miniseries proposal I turned in Thursday--and love that I had an offer in three days. (Because I HATE waiting to hear!!!!)

As much as I am delighted to land on my feet, I am really, really sad for my colleagues and writer pals who don't yet know what they are going to do. I am also sad for my friends that I was CERTAIN would get Bombshell deals someday--people like Karmela Johnson (blog link to the right) who was always a great cheerleader for the line.

I know Sara Hantz (blog link on the right) commented about the cautions against genre-hopping, and I know there are plenty of people who advise against it, and I know it's not usually a sensible route. BUT, I am really, really glad I can write across genres and can adapt. I am also really glad my brain works that way--I love comedy (my Red Dress Ink titles), but I also love dark thrillers.

So for anyone who lurks who wonders what I am going to do, what I am going to do was already well settled today. I'm fine.

And, getting back to the discussions about art and craft and life of a writer . . . today was a reminder that this industry isn't for the faint-hearted. It's a roller coaster ride sometimes, and art and craft are lovely, but if you intend to make a living at it, you have to be aware of what's going on sales wise and be ready to adapt.

Ciao,
E

It's Planting Season

It's time to plant the seeds of your dream.

I have a Burpee seed clock. It's got this celestial face on it, and I think it was made in the late 1960s-early 1970s. The moon passes through this window from Night to Day, when the sun rises up from the window, and then this other window tells you what seeds to plant at what time of year. It's pretty cool.

I bought it about 18 years ago when I was married (briefly). I bought it with my first "big" paycheck at the time, after I found it in this funky store. It was all of $85, which at the time seemed like a lot for something that was . . . well, thrift store junk. When I brought it home, I was yelled at by my spouse for buying something so utterly and completely frivilous. But the thing is, I LOVED it. I put it someplace prominant, in a marital battle of the clock. When I left him not much later, it was the most important thing I wanted, I think. When I moved from house to house since then, I always had to have a place for it, and now it sits right in front of me, on this shelf on my desk. My beloved tacky thrift store clock.

Now I realize the clock stands for something much more. Irrational dreams. You see, it was completely impractical. A stupid purchase that meant something to my heart for reasons I could never articulate and still can't. I just LOVE it, just like much of the clutter and stuff in my life--Buddha statues and trinkets and candles and a cookie jar that belonged to my grandmother. There is a scene in THE ROOFER, in which Ava stores the things of childhood in a cigar box. You know all the little crap we accumulate as kids. Stones that are flat and smooth and special, found feathers from birds, a parasol from a fancy drink our Grandma had one time. That's what my clock is. A grown-up version of the dreams of childhood.

Writing is like that, too. It's an impractical goal to want to make a living as a novelist. A stupid dream, really, because how many people really get to achieve it? An utterly foolish and foolhardy idea. But don't give up. Adulthood and doubt and naysayers would like to take that dream away. So what if it is a completely extravagent dream? Nurture it anyway. We live one life. Maybe. But on this pass through of this existence, you have one shot. You can play it safe or you can buy your Burpee seed clock.

It's time to plant your dreams. It can happen. Twenty or so sold novels later, I can tell you that it can happen. And my Burpee seed clock still ticks away the planting seasons.

Real-Life Insanity and Other Tales

I wanted to write something about research. I am frequently asked how I research my books about the mob, men who throw their enemies from the roof, and the CIA. If I told you, I'd have to kill you. ;-)

Most of my research, though, comes from real life. I pay attention, I listen to conversations, and I know some extremely interesting people. If I say more than that, I'd reveal too much about myself.

I use Google for most books that take place somewhere I haven't been before, like one coming up set in Prague. I interview people. I ask a lot of questions. I read nonfiction voraciously. I've even viewed real-life autopsies on CD courtesy of a friend of mine in forensics (not to be done while eating lunch at my desk)

But most of all, I LIVE. And that, in a nutshell, is my best advice. LIVE. If you do not go to unusual places, try new experiences, it will affect your writing. Don't be too sheltered.

Case in point . . . I accompanied a friend of mine to court the other day. I won't reveal anything about her (a SAINT!) other than to say it involved a divorce. Suffice it to say that in that court, I saw a display by the other party that was the single, solitary, most vile, insane, N-U-T-S scenario I have ever seen in my entire life. Ever. EVER!! And this from someone who knows people who have thrown men off roofs.

The thing is, my friend had confided in me, and I knew some nutty stuff was going down, but until I WITNESSED it in person . . . I had no idea. Real craziness is like that. You can make it up when you write, you can try to describe it, but being near it, even if it can't touch you, sends ripples of fear through your entire body. Nothing in my existence--and I've been scared before by a crazy stalker and some personal bad mojo--prepared me for it. And now? TRUST me, I am a better writer because of it. No, that's not why I went. I went to support a woman who defines courage to me. But I WILL, indeed, be a better writer now.

I once went on a ride-along with the police in a ghetto. I "thought" I had been in some tough neighborhoods before. Heck, I lived two blocks from the projects in Jersey City when I was 22, and it was not fun. (You haven't really lived until you've had your upstairs landlord drilling HOLES in the floor to spy on you in your bedroom. Enough said.) But NO, I had NOT seen, smelled, experienced a real tough neighborhood. The kind you are lucky to walk a block and emerge alive. The kind where the cops say to you, as they step from side to side while standing in an apartment, "Keep moving your feet so the roaches don't crawl up your pant leg."

Can I write a good scene in an urban setting? Hell yeah.

No, I am not advocating getting yourself shot for the sake of research, but yes, experience life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Then write about it.

Anyone? What was your best real-life research? How do YOU do your research?

The Different Will Survive

Well, I can see from the plethora of comments after the last blog post I did, "How Weird Are You," that we have a lot of different people hanging out here. Writers and creative folk are often unusual, and for a lot of us, we have been different from grade school on.

And different is good.

Now I want to talk about different book ideas. Everyone is always watching the curve to see what the next "hot" genre will be. Chick lit is dead, some of them scream. The detective genre is overcrowded. Paranormal is hot--for now.

Well, guess what? In my humble opinion, every genre is "dead." By that I mean if you are just re-hashing the same-old, same-old, your work isn't living and breathing and original. Unfortunately, that's what some people do.

How do I know this? Well, interestingly, I spoke at a Florida RWA luncheon about the time Diary of a Blues Goddess came out. Spanish Disco had already been out for 8 months or so . . . And astoundingly, I remember a couple of women approaching me and telling me they were going to try to write chick lit "because that's what the editors are buying."

I will be the first person, being as I make my living writing commercial fiction, to tell you that it pays to know what editors are buying. But the fact is the women who spoke to me didn't even LIKE chick lit. They were true romance writers with perfect and virginal heroines, and they were studying the new genre of chick lit like a recipe and putting in a dash of this (gay sidekick, martinis), a sprinkling of this (overweight heroine who hates her job), a touch of this (fab location, label dropping) and voila! Hoping to make a chick lit souffle that an editor would buy. And then, I am sure, wondering why the rejections are piling up.

My best advice is one, write the book of your heart. It will show.

Two, be aware of genre, be aware of what's come before you, what's being bought, what's out there, and then find a way to TOP it. Be different, be creative, TAKE CHANCES!!! Because when genres become overcrowded and stale, it's the most creative who survive.

So, all you who posted at how different you were, and all my fellow oddballs and pals . . . when it comes to writing, remember that the different survive.

How Weird Are You?

I had a friend try to sell a detective series a few years ago. The problem, at least as editors saw it, is there wasn't anything particularly unusual about this detective to make him stand out in the overcrowded genre. He was smart. Most detectives are. He was a wise ass. Name one in the genre who isn't. He was complicated. But he wasn't memorable. He lacked a weirdness factor.

Now, by weird, I don't mean he needed to talk to dead people (though that's a little weird) or be a transvestite (not weird, per se, but unusual). But he didn't have enough of those instant adjectives. You know, "I read this really cool new detective book. The guy is a blank, blank, and a blank. He is blank." The person you are talking to goes ah-ha, that sounds good and rushes out to buy the book.

The thing is, as writers you're taught to perfect your pitch. You can summarize your plot in 50 words or less. You have the Big Idea. But your characters should be equally interesting, and equally weird and you should be able to summarize him or her in a few different, weird, eccentric, or unusual words and traits.

Look at chick lit. "Susie Q. is a plus-sized peon at x company who discovers her boyfriend is cheating. She decides to quit her job and become y, and along the way loses 25 pounds, finds the man of her dreams, and discovers she didn't need to be married anyway. And oh, she has a complicated relationship with her mother." I have heard this a zillion times. Well, maybe not a zillion but a LOT. It's not unique. Now maybe the writing makes up for it--and someone has to be the FIRST to do a book like this--thus Bridget Jones. But now, you need more.

For me, this has never been a problem. Characters are my strong suit. I think it's because I am weird. Not kidding . . . I am. And I am immensely comfortable in my weirdness. And so it doesn't take much for me to depict someone with lots of eccentrcities being as I have them myself.

Real people are complicated, and they are full of contradictions. Yes, look over at my picture on the right-hand side of my blog. What does it say? Yes, a bundle of contradictions. I'm a Buddhist who still crosses herself when someone says Amen. And I knock on wood when anyone discusses something bad. I like martinis--but always order them with a sidecar of Coke. Not Pepsi. My family? Don't even get me started. Weird but loving. Am I so unusual? No, though I've been TOLD I'm really weird. The thing is, without eccentricities and oddities, your characters just won't stand out.

Billie Quinn, my character, has her second book coming out on Monday. Called Trace of Doubt. Billie is a criminalist. She has a background in chemistry and is a genius. She's also "connected"--her father heads a New Jersey Irish crime ring; her brother is in and out of prison, the last time for selling pirated DVDs. She spent her childhood visiting prisons up and down the East Coast--Clinton (cnicknamed Little Siberia), Sing Sing, Rahway--on visiting days seeing Dad, and Grandpa, and Uncle Sean. Her boss is from New Orleans, but every time he things of that beautiful place drowning, he drinks. He's in love with a nun, and he has a pet tarantula. He also has a skull collection (long story). The characters, I think, are memorable, and that is what drives people to buy the books. A really cool plot can sell a first book--but the characters are what have people coming back for more.

So . . . who are your favorite eccentric characters? What are their quirks? And more importantly, how weird are you?

Lifting the Veil

My son "sees" math. It is to the great detriment of our educational system that for the most part, math is rote--and for most kids, dreaded. I hated math. Feared it, thanks to possibly the worst teacher in the history of mankind who taught me math in seventh grade. She ruined the subject for me and made me hate school. Of course, my revenge was to depict her quite well in one of my books.

Then, a few years ago, I read one of my favorite nonfiction books EVER. I highly recommend MY BRAIN IS OPEN by Bruce Schecter. I don't know the author, this is just a plug for a phenomenal book that will change your mind about math. When I read it, my mind opened to amazing ways in which some people SEE math. My son is one such person--though he's only 10. He SEES math. He sees it in three dimensions; he sees it in ways that amaze me.

I see the world a little differently too. I see stories in the people I meet. I see demons and angels and good and evil and human pathos and all sorts of things in the stuff of ordinary life. Then I write about it.

For me, as awful as my seventh-grade math teacher was, my ninth-grade English teacher was the opposite. I remember reading TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. And for the first time, a teacher made me get, see, understand symbolism. A veil was lifted. Books were never the same after that. I SAW symbols and dimensions where previously there were just words on a page.

I love when readers write to me and say they "get" what I was weaving into my books. Tom in THE ROOFER is my sacrificial lamb. The plants and tableaus in SPANISH DISCO mean something. INVISIBLE GIRL is full of religious and spiritual symbolism. You can enjoy the books without getting all the nuances. But if you do get them, and the veil is lifted, then you enjoy it on another level.

How about you? Do you "see" math? Do you enjoy a book more if you see little hints of things the author is trying to get across? Do you remember a specific book that really was all the more meaningful when a wonderful teacher or the time you read it in your life meant you got that much more out of it?

Who Do You Know

Back a few years ago when I was a book editor, I wrote a hardcover book for Prentice Hall about the home office revolution, called The 60-Second Commute. I wrote it with one of my best friends, and we were well-qualified to write it. I had worked from home since the (gulp!) 1980s, and she is a family therapist who also made a conscious choice to start a home office. Then I sold my first novel, and my home office became much more about writing fiction and less about running a publishing consulting business and editing.

But one thing that was very clear in my book was how technology had changed us. I think most of us thought email and gadgets like the Crackberry were going to make our lives easier. But in truth, while it has helped us, it's also made us "wired" 24/7, thus making it harder, in many ways, to get away from our workload.

However, one thing the home office revolution and technology has done is bring us closer in some ways. Hence this blog entry. When I count my blessings, I have to count the many, many people whom I kn0w ONLY in the context of cyberspace. Karmela, for instance, who drops by here, has a blog. She lost her mom today and I read about it on her blog and cried. Karm is a treasure.

I have met people like Jude, who drop by here often. And writers I only know from eharlequin (Elaine sometimes drops by here, too). I have visited blogs and learned about writing . . . and life . . . from a wide variety of people. I met author Mary Castillo entirely online. I follow these threads through cyberspace and my world is a little smaller.

I pray for friends when they suffer losses, and light candles and, like Mai in Invisible Girl, cover the Buddhist bases of people in mourning and people who struggle with various problems, like we all do. I cheer my unpublished friends as they get agents and contracts, and cross my fingers for them and my other writer friends as new proposals make the rounds.

I definitely work too hard (something Heather Brewer tells me to knock off--walk and take a break, she reminds me). But cyberspace has really, in some ways, made my world better and brighter and more supportive.

So I had to share . . . the world is a little smaller because of my blog and my site. Who do you know?