Hunger Games. Yum!

"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

That's verse three in a song Suzanne Collins' character Katniss Everdeen sings in Mockingjay, the third and final book in her Hunger Games trilogy. Though the series has clearly been aimed at the Young Adult reader, these books should be read by everyone. And, yes, you will need to read all three because they are really one bigfatbook. Really, I would wonder how anyone could read just one.

In a video interview at the B&N website, Collins squirms when faced with how to describe what The Hunger Games is about. That's always my favorite question to writers because I wonder how to describe some of my own novel-length works, so the answers help me. Collins finally suggests just reading the first chapter, contending it will answer that question. Ha! (Bet she hates writing a synopsis, too.)

Actually, before that, Collins compares The Hunger Games to the Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland. I would describe it as having bits of those swirled with the edge-of-your-seat action of a Tom Clancy novel and peppered with a healthy dose of several seasons of Survivor.

Whatever Collins did, she did it gangbusters. The plot is compelling, the setting dynamic, the characters well-liked. The whole shebang moves with incredible speed.

But what's it about really? A possible future for the USA.

That statement alone should scare you. We live in times where the steamroller changes at Facebook appear to engender more rage than the fact our nation is re-experiencing taxation without representation. Those bubbleheads in Washington care more about what is good for their respective parties than about the people they claim to represent. Hello! People are struggling out here!

Our retirement savings have gone poof. Jobs? What jobs? Our young people aren't able to find many, and those they do secure are mostly part-time. Walk through the mall. Most of those employees are lucky to snag 20 hours a week. Health care? They don't have any.

People are being forced to retire, leaving some responsibilities in the hands of the unexperienced and poorly trained. And young people are giving a career in the military more than a passing glance.

So could there actually be a Panem?

Why not give The Hunger Games trilogy a look? Then get back to me.

Meanwhile, I'll be slaving away at the keyboard on book two of my own dystopian tale, more inspired than ever.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

And the Truth Shall Set You Free... to write!

"To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write." Gertrude Stein

As I was thumbing through old issues of the Hellnotes newsletter I used to edit and publish, I came upon this old editorial column of mine, written in 2006. It's still relevant, so I reprint it here, along with an added note at the bottom.

A Day in Hell

The things writers will do to avoid actually writing truly amazes me. It used to be that merely sitting down at a keyboard might afford that lightning strike of… well, writing.

I mean WRITING could happen IF… (circle one below)

… the music playing was (rain-tinkling piano/eardrum-puncturing guitars/manic-producing violins);

… the "special" cup from the (convention/writers' retreat/mom) was brimming with perfectly blended (coffee/cappuccino/tea);

… the reach of (darkness/moonlight/sunlight) was (slithering/stroking/slapping) its way through the (open/half-closed/nailed shut) blinds.

But wait! A writer should read first, right? Reading; writing; more reading; then writing are the stepping stones on the path toward being a better writer. But, read what? The latest bestseller? Something by a friend? Something classic? How about something about writing?

Of course!

The publishers of WRITERS DIGEST have made a bloody fortune off magazines and books about writing. Authors who have actual books under their belts blog and journal and forum and message about their particular methods and secrets to writing. Some -- Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, David Morrell, Richard Laymon, Tom Monteleone -- even write books about writing books.

Oops! Time to take a break and play a short game. (As is the New Age Writer's Method.) It'll get our writing juices up. Okay, less than a porn break, but indulge me. Would I lie? I'm a writer and an editor and even a publisher. I want YOU, the writer to get cracking, so when I say let's take a break and play, you should trust me. (I'm a Mom, too, did I mention that?)

Let's play a version of MAD LIBS®. Give me these words:

1. A word ending in –ing

2. Book title

3. Number

4. Book title

Place them in the following sentences.

"This is how I go about (1)." "This is where I went before I wrote (2.)" "I did (3.) years of research on (4.)"

Were your words "writing"; the name of one of your novels; actual years; another of your book titles?

Then you trusted that this piece wasn't about writing.

Sucker.

In writing and publishing, you should never trust anyone. Even your parents. Or children. I'm also a former writing teacher who once gave her class a hundred questions in class to which there were no correct answers. Boy, did that throw them!

Sitting down to a keyboard here in the 21^st Century means little. The writer jumps on the Internet, scours the message boards, spews whatever vitriol he cares to because who will hit him and make him stop? His mother? Ha!

A number of those helpful authors in the writing magazine laugh all the way to the bank. "Yeah, that's how I write," they say. The inference is that all you have to do is follow their tried and true method and you, too, can be a member of the Rock Bottom Remainders.

Sadly, it doesn't work that way.

Let me tell you right here and right now that they're holding back. What you read from famous authors in writing magazines and online writing sites is skewed. Yes, that's how THEY write. But THEY are not you. YOU are YOU.

Yes, it may prove enlightening to know how other writers write. On my bookshelf I see books on writing by Bradbury, King, Koontz, Morrell, Monteleone, Gene Wolfe, Joe R. Lansdale, Orson Scott Card, J.N. Williamson, William F. Nolan, Annie Lamott, Natalie Goldberg, Edo van Belkom, and the horror Bible, WRITING HORROR, edited by Mort Castle.

Yet, here is their biggest secret. I'm giving this to you today for free. You don't even have to click a link and read through a lengthy piece.

THEY WRITE!

Writing is hard work. Disciplined hard work. 1500 words a day of actual fiction work. A limit on the Internet. Few posts. Butt in the chair; fingers perched above that keyboard; mind engaged... writing. And when they hit a wall -- everybody does -- they figure out what works best for them and they do it. Then they get back to writing.

There is no magic.

The Roman philosopher Seneca said: "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity."

There's a huge difference between wanting to have written and actually writing. It's thrilling/mesmerizing/fulfilling. And a heck of a lot of work.

Find your own niche/methods/discipline, but do it: WRITE.

ADDED NOTE: I failed to mention writers' conferences in this piece, but must add them here. I've attended two and found each to have been worth the money and the time, but... Nothing is gospel. What works for one writer oftentimes does not work for another. It's important to consider and study and evaluate the styles of others, but it's more important and valuable to simply write.

Well, why are you still reading this? Ferris Bueller has already left the building. He's writing, and so should you.

Likin' De Nook-e

"A book is magical; it transcends time and space." Daniel Boorstin

"Without an enthusiastic reader, a book would die." Henry Miller

Ah, books!

I have a small collection of small books. What is common among these cherished treasures, besides their size, is they are each bound in leather. The oldest is my American Ladies Pocket Book, published in 1825. The frontispiece features two ladies in fashionable gowns. Squeezed inside its few pages are a calendar, selected poetry and prose, songs, riddles, rebuses, enigmas, anagrams, marketing tables, and ruled pages for notations. Plus a pocket for money or perhaps rose petals or a love note. Some previous owner has penciled in several recipes.

The collection also includes four plays by Shakespeare, published in 1898, novels by Hermann Melville, William Makepeace Thackeray, and Sir Walter Scott; a collection of short stories by Nathaniel Hawthorne; two volumes of letters of Charles Lamb; a Book of Prayer; and Of the Imitation of Christ by Thomas Kempis.

Of course, I have more books I've collected: signed first editions of first novels of a number of authors whose works I love; Books given to me by author friends; Gold Medal paperbacks; random books I've enjoyed; some that showed up in the middle of the night. You know: Books! Lovely, lovely books!

And I don't know what I'd do without them even if I now own a Barnes & Noble Nook e-Reader.

My younger daughter decided since I was a writer and this was the 21st Century, I should ADD to my book reading proclivity the latest trend. She and her Dad gifted me with such this past June to celebrate my birthday.

I was polite and gleefully accepted. (What pushed me over the edge were the two gift cards!)

It's September now, and while I started off slow, and probably a bit hesitant if not resistant at first, I am now fully hooked. Reading seems faster, easier, and, dammit, just as fulfilling as reading a regular book.

Not that I have foresworn my leather-bound lovelies or my sweet-smelling pulpies, but Mama do be likin' de Nook-e!

My Nook library includes a variety of interesting works: novels and short story collections, and anthologies as well as books on writing. Plus, the jewel: the oeuvre of Guy de Maupassant!

(Oh, and several historical romance novels.)

WHAT?

They gave the first one to me free, they did, and, golly Molly, I'm finding Barbara Samuel and Miranda Neville can word-wrestle just fine and dandy, thank you very much. In short, I had a spankin' good time time reading, and isn't that what it's all about?

Or let me remind you:

"A book is magical; it transcends time and space." Daniel Boorstin

I said historical romances!

"Without an enthusiastic reader, a book would die." Henry Miller

Yup! I'm enthusiastic about... about... about those happy endings. And the manners. Yeah!

Truthfully, the women are strong women and the subjects have included breaking down sex, race, religious, and class barriers and prejudices. But with horses and swords and petticoats.

As for electronic reading, I've surrendered, but in a good way, I think. Words get to live on in this new form and the old form isn't dead at all.

Or as my dear Emily once wrote:

A Word is dead

When it is said
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

And that's all we writers and readers should wish for: Readers reading.

Next up: An extra five minutes!

Women and the Word!

"Life can't defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death." Edna Ferber


Occasionally someone will ask me how long I've been writing, and I tell them it all began because I was a chatty child who was cursed with vivid dreams. One day my mother, who cherished a bit of silence, gave me a sharpened pencil and a little blue notebook. "Don't tell me your dream," she said. "Write it down." I was seven.

But the truth is I was a bit younger when my mother decided my wild stories could be easily translated with fingerpaints to large sheets of white paper on an easel. I was four (and extremely verbal).

Luckily enough, my family moved to a small town from a big city when I was seven, and the local library was within walking distance. I spent a lot of hours haunting that place, searching out every nook and cranny for the best places to spend an afternoon. (And I learned to be quiet!)

While I read a number of authors (Ray Bradbury, Ian Fleming, Ernest Hemingway, Jack London, Mark Twain, James Michener), my early favorites also included a number of women writers and their excellent works: Edna Ferber's So Big, Sue Grafton's Keziah Dane, Mary McCarthy's The Group, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, and stories by Leigh Brackett, Flannery O'Connor, and Shirley Jackson.

It was Jackson's "The Lottery" that made me want to be a writer. Her story struck me with such emotion and stayed with me for days and days. I wanted to be able to do that: to strike a cord so strongly in another person that images and feelings would last and last.

Recently, after a run of rereading all of John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee novels and enjoying a full dive into the previously unread writings of James W. Hall, Dennis Lehane, Joseph Finder, Jonathon King, and Michael Koryta, I wondered if I hadn't been short-changing my ink-slinging sisters. Of course, I'd read books by women authors: Margaret Atwood, Poppy Z. Brite, Chelsea Cain, Yvonne Navarro, P. D. Cacek, Laura Lippmann, Alafair Burke, Karen Slaughter, Tess Gerritsen, and Jean Rabe come quickly to mind, but...

Well, let me just put the blame on Hank Phillippi Ryan. Her name kept popping up all over. I finally caved and Googled her. Like me, she's a Hoosier. And she writes mysteries. Her Charley McNally series includes four books so far: Prime Time, Face Time, Air Time, and Drive Time. And each one is such a joy to read. Charley has spunk and attitude and deep doubts she'll mess up. Hank's style loosened me up and helped open my door wide to women writers I might never have considered. What a snob I've been. What an airhead.

In the past few weeks, I've consumed most of Barbara Samuel's backlist: Heart of a Knight, A Winter Ballad, A Bed of Spices, Lucien's Fall, In the Midnight Rain, The Black Angel, and Night of Fire. Who knew there were fantastic storytellers in Romance fiction? I didn't. And behind these titles are stories of hardscrabble survivors dealing with age, genre, class, religious, and race prejudices. Abuse. Abandonment. And of course, love. And what's the matter with that?

Writer Ferber said: "I think in order to write really well and convincingly, one must be somewhat poisoned by emotion. Dislike, displeasure, resentment, fault-finding, imagination, passionate remonstrance, a sense of injustice -- they all make fine fuel."

Indeed they do! All parts of that crazy, mixed-up lover of mine: writing.

Next up: I rip my heart out as I admit my feelings for my Nook e-reader.

Readin', Writin', and More Readin'!

First, two quotes from Jorge Luis Borges:

"Besides, rereading, not reading, is what counts."

"Let others pride themselves about how many pages they have written; I'd rather boast about the ones I've read."


Since yesterday, August 24, was Jorge Luis Borges' 112th birthday, I had occasion to refresh my memory a bit about his work. It has been a while since I'd read any of his poems, and it was his poems that I'd loved so much in college. In fact, I had the honor of being in the audience when he visited Indiana University many moons ago.

During that period I also wrote, but more fiction than poetry. But the poets I favored included D.H. Lawrence, W. H. Auden, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, and Stephen Crane. Fiction favorites ran the gamut from Ian Fleming to Harper Lee to Henry James. Hemingway. Faulkner. Bradbury.

I reread Twain's Huck Finn and Melville's Billy Budd over and over again because when I like a book, I tend to zip through it and need to read it again to appreciate the craft. The art.

Which brings me to this chunk of time post-Writers in Paradise Conference to now. Boy, I've read a lot! So much, I'm not sure where to start.

How about with Michael Koryta? He's a fellow Hoosier. I loved his Lincoln Perry mysteries, but The Ridge, Cypress House, and So Cold the River are wonderful reads, too. Then I found Joseph Finder. His new Nick Heller series (Vanished, Buried Secrets) is my kind of cake, and he has stand-alones that rocked my socks off. And speaking of socks... an extra couple of pair were needed to withstand the frigid Russian winter in David Benioff's City of Thieves. This was truly a spectacular story.

I read Daniel Woodrell's Winter's Bone before I saw the movie. Yes, the book was better. His Death of Sweet Mister is exceptional.

And I haven't even mentioned spending so much time with James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux. This was my favorite series read since John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee series.

But then two things thing happened:

1. I discovered I was reading mostly male authors. Of course, I'd read novels by Jane Hamilton, Laura Lippman, and Ann Hood prior to attending WIP, but I really haven't given my sisters a fair shot. (Enter Hank Phillippi Ryan and her Charlie McNalley series, and, uhm, Romance writers.)

2. My family got me a Nook e-Reader for my birthday and two gift cards. Yikes!

Next time: Women and the Word, followed by Likin' de Nook-e

Listen to the Muse!

So where have you been, Judi? Good question. Here's my good answer: writing, reading, and sharpening my writing tools. In fact, I've not only sharpened my tools, I picked up a few new ones.

In January, I was lucky enough to be accepted into the Writers in Paradise Conference, hosted by Eckerd College, in St. Petersburg, FL. In fact, they awarded me a scholarship, for which I am most thankful and honored.

WIP is the brainchild of two gifted authors, Sterling Watson (SWEET DREAM BABY) and Dennis Lehane (THE GIVEN DAY, GONE BABY GONE, MYSTIC RIVER). They dragged in other writers to assist them: Richard Russo, Jane Hamilton, Michael Koryta, Les Standiford, John Dusfresne, and a few others. And for eight days, these fine writers worked our asses off.

I met some wonderfully fine writers and expanded my to-be-read pile. But really what I took away of most value was to trust myself. I had applied initially because even though the manuscript for my first novel-length fiction was finished, I was uneasy about the beginning. After a rather massive rewrite (using those new tools and the resharpened ones), I now know my baby is ready to come out of the bath water, get towel-dried, dressed, and its butt patted as she goes out the door.

So stay tuned!

A Beginning or an End?

Rather than begin with a quote, let me begin with a story about my younger daughter. Poor thing, like her older sister, has had to endure growing up with not one, but two book-junky parents. That has meant more visits to bookstores and libraries than most people probably. (Really. Does your trip planning involve Mapquesting the local library of your vacation destination?)

It was on one of our many weekend short trips that we found yet another hole-in-the-wall used bookstore. My husband and I perused the shelves as we usually did, allowing our then five-year-old to do her own exploring. She began with the children's books but wandered a bit to several stacks of dusty used books near the owner's office. Very carefully, she chose a rather thick book with no cover and no art, but lots and lots of words. Then she proceeded to lug the book around the store, clutching it closely to her chest.

We wound up buying her that old book. It joined the other old books she chosen on other trips.

I don't know whether she's ever read any of them, but I can't help but think of her collection whenever I consider the new eBooks.

Writer Pete Meisling, who offered these thoughts about electronic books on his blog in September: "We're forsaking the value of spontaneous discovery (When's the last time you found a digital file lying on the bench at the bus stop?). We're profoundly changing our notions of permanence and ownership (Will you leave behind a book collection for kith and kin to wallow in after you die, or will your Amazon account simply close? Will you really experience the same sense of gratitude at being lent an e-book for two weeks as you would at being handed a beloved paperback? If you're young enough, will you ever know the difference?)." http://www.petemesling.com/2010.09.01_arch.html

As I've said before, as I enter the world of novel-length fiction, I do wonder which path to take. Am I looking at placing my work with the maker of candles who stubbornly sees no merit in the newfangled light bulb or what?

+

Reading: Finished the delightful MOONLIGHT MILE by Dennis Lehane. Have since read Richard Price's THE WANDERERS, Sterling Watson's SWEET DREAM BABY (which is really a horror novel!), Daid Corbett' sTHE DEVIL'S REDHEAD, and James Lee Burke's first three Dave Robicheaux adventures, THE NEON RAIN, HEAVEN'S PRISIONERS, and BLACK CHERRY BLUES. Also MIAMI NOIR and BOSTON NOIR (both with gut-punching stories by John Dufresne).

Writing: Working on UNDER STRANGE, STRANGE SKIES. Sold a short story! (More on that later.)

That Ole Writing Life

I know I usually begin this with some appropriate quote, but my appropriate quote machine died. Well, the hard drive part did anyway. Was my writing backed up? Of course.

It did make me think that I never had this sort of problem when I was banging the keys on the Royal, and I used to be more accurate at landing "nothing but wastebasket" with my wadded paper shots.

And I do remember wrangling with the ribbons as I tried to squeeze the last bit of ink from them.

As the good old days. Actually, the Royal was a dream. It followed my first machine: a child's typewriter where each and every letter was accessible only after turning a metal wheel. A turn-turn B turn-turn... Welll, you get the idea. And I wrote 60-page teleplays with that machine and subbed them to an agent in Hollywood. Ah, innocence.

But now, here I am bemoaning the death of yet another hard drive.

The things we do to spin yarns, tell lies, and make up shit. Huh?

Back to the grind. I'm working on UNDER STRANGE, STRANGE SKIES, the second book in the HERITAGE series and reading Michael Koryta's SO COLD THE RIVER. I'm also wondering when the next James W. Hall novel will be available.

Egg on the Face of the Book Snob!

This is what I posted on October 7: "OK, I'm that weirdo who hasn't seen any of the three films made from (Dennis) Lehane stories, so it was easy to tackle his stand-alone titles without prejudice. Having knocked off GONE, BABY, GONE, I looked at that film first. Ben Affleck had to be crazy to cast that very Irish-looking woman as Angie Gennaro, and where was her spunk? And Cheese became a Haitian? Sorry, but the best I could do was fast forward through the film. So call me Book Spoiled."

Now call me wrong. This past weekend, my husband and I sat down and watched Ben Affleck's version of GONE, BABY, GONE. We've both read (and now re-read) all the Kenzie-Genarro books as we prep ourselves to read MOONLIGHT MILE, the sixth book in the series and a follow-up to GONE, BABY, GONE. While a good bit of the story was left out or changed (a Haitian named Cheese?), I think Affleck quite beautifully captured the sensitive and complex nature of Lehane's original story. Casey Affleck nailed Patrick, as did Michelle Monaghan as Angela Genarro and Amy Ryan as Helene. One suggestion I have is to play the deleted extended opening and ending available in the bonus section. The extended opening particularly caught a better sense of Patrick and the relationship between Patrick and Ange.

Mr. Affleck, please forgive me.

+ +

Reading: Jim Thompson's THE KILLER INSIDE ME, Jim Crumley's THE LAST GOOD KISS, and Ed Gorman's STRANGLEHOLD.

Writing: Nipping and tucking and wild with scissors with HERITAGE and working on the first draft of a short fiction piece called "Trading Cards."

Writer to Writer: Look!

"My friend, my teacher, James Hall [author of Under Cover of Daylight and Body Language] said that all books are about writing, and to some extent, when you're sitting there trying to create this plot, you, in a way, are the mastermind. So my books become books about masterminds creating plots. That's a little postmodern, but I think there is a lot to it."

Dennis Lehane
http://januarymagazine.com/profiles/lehane1999.html

I want to use that quote as I slide from my study of the fine writing of James W. Hall to the fine writing of Dennis Lehane. Seeing the end of Hall's oeuvre inching closer, I began looking for someone else to study. Both Hall and Lehane are grads of Eckerd University in St. Petersburg, FL, and Lehane was a student of Hall's at Florida International University in Miami.

Of course, I began with Lehane's detective series. Love mystery/thrillers. The Kenzie/Gennaro team is absolutely first-rate, but what won my heart forever was a foggy, midnight car chase on the Sunshine Skyway Bridge! And Bubba.

His writing is crisp and deep, with Lehane unafraid to tackle moral and ethical issues.

OK, I'm that weirdo who hasn't seen any of the three films made from Lehane stories, so it was easy to tackle his stand-alone titles without prejudice. Having knocked off GONE BABY GONE, I looked at that film first. Ben Affleck had to be crazy to cast that very Irish-looking woman as Angie Gennaro, and where was her spunk? And Cheese became a Haitian? Sorry, but the best I could do was fast forward through the film. So call me Book Spoiled.

Sitting on the TV now is Clint Eastwood's version of MYSTIC RIVER, one of the finest novels out there. The library has given me five days to watch it. Hmmm...

My Lehane bookmark (yes, I have markers for each book I read to make notes) is stuck in the middle of SHUTTER ISLAND right now. This is another difficult book to put down. I'm reminded of John D. MacDonald's NIGHTMARE IN PINK (Travis McGee series), both for the time period covered and the subject matter. And once again, I feel I am in safe hands with this writer. He will deliver more than a sound and entertaining tale, but one where the reader is allowed a self-examination of her own ethics and morals.

Which brings me to something Lehane said to the graduates at Eckerd University a few years ago:

"Since 9-11, something's happened to our empathy in this country. I don't know what exactly, but it ain't good. I wrote a novel in which all the characters have perfectly good and understandable reasons to be angry and they only commit acts of violence and vengeance once they're sure they're right. And yet…they're wrong. I think human beings are at their most dangerous when they lose their empathy, when they objectify other human beings, when they are so sure they are right they feel justified in a take-no-prisoners attitude. And I don't know when mercy and decency became signs of weakness in this country."

And then I have to remember each writer has something to teach. "All books are about writing." And reading.

I have to ask how far I've come since opening that first grade reader and staring in awe at the first real word I remember reading: "Look," it said on page one. Look.

I've finished HERITAGE and have submitted the first three chapters to an agent I'd like to represent me. If the answer is no, then I have another on my list. And an editor friend who has read HERITAGE has recommended I submit it to a particular editor, and I'm considering that if the agent passes on reading the entire manuscript.

Meanwhile, I'm hammering on EPIPHANY. As a writer friend reminds me: you can do only one one thing at a time. I do have a short story being considered for an anthology, so I have my fingers crossed for that.

And I'm awaiting the November 2 release of MOONLIGHT MILE, Dennis Lehane's follow-up to GONE BABY GONE, but the latest in the Kenzie/Gennaro series. I have a copy ordered from the bookstore my husband and elder daughter and I haunted when we visited Boston a few years ago. We stayed in Brookline and found a home at the Brookline Booksmith.

But back to what I love doing best: writing!

Rhythms and Methods

"I'm a poet who also writes crime novels. One foot on the high road, one in the gutter. It makes for a lovely stride." James W. Hall "Poets Sinks to Crime," an essay in HOT DAMN!

Ah, yes, I'm still savoring the finely crafted writings of James W. Hall. Oh, I finished all his novels and his book of essays and even a few of his poems and short stories. Now, I'm rereading in what I call "Judi order": how the themes work best.

I did the same with John D. MacDonald. When I finished his final Travis McGee book, THE LONELY SILVER RAIN, I reopened THE DEEP BLUE GOODBYE. And I was stunned to find parallels. Things mentioned at the last that had been mentioned in the first. But most of all, I found Travis McGee a richer character because I knew who he had become all those years later.

The same is true of Hall's Thorn. When I finished reading his latest Thorn adventure, SILENCER, I pitched myself back inside the pages of his debut, UNDER COVER OF DAYLIGHT. Great trip. Happily, Hall is again traisping through an adventure with his best know character in his own writing process.

But the arc I'm enjoying is with his Alexandra Collins character: BODY LANGUAGE (a stand alone novel), BLACKWATER SOUND, OFF THE CHART, and MAGIC CITY (these are Thorn novels).

As for my own writing, I'm 25k into a story outside my four-part HERITAGE series, though my evening writing times are devoted strictly to what I call H2, the second book in the Daniel and Johanna epic. I find it's not easy shifting back and forth because my characters jostle too hard for center stage in my mind.

The Hall readings have made me understand how important it is to do works outside a series. As much as I love the Thorn adventures, I find Hall's stand alones to be so very rich. I can see how they stretch him creatively. That's what I'm after: growth as a writer.

Meanwhile I about to box up HERITAGE and post it to the appropriate party. Big step here as I gulp down my fears. Feedback has been very encouraging and strong from my reliable first readers. Heck, I'm no newbie. I have stories published in several respected anthologies. So, we'll see...

Writer L. McKenna Donovan notes at her fine site that writers often "self-sabotage." http://lmdonovan.wordpress.com/yin-yang-of-writing-fiction/#comment-75 I think she's absolutely right.

For me, I'm out of here, fitting my own feet in different places, setting my own stride. If it is odd, if I limp, then I like to imagine I'm in good company. Imagining is what I love doing.

From One Word Lover to Another

I haven't decided if mingling with other writers is a good or bad thing. I also haven't decided whether playing a lone wolf is any good either. Writing is certainly a solitary endeavor. Yet, if a writer stays cloistered in her den then is it any surprise all her stories are about characters cloistered in a den/castle/spaceship/cabin/etc.? Kind of like all the country songs about lonely country boys picking up lonely country girls in bars where country singers sing.

But...

As I indicated in my last post while I'm hammering away on new words and scenes for TOUCHING LEAVES and EPIPHANY and working on the dreaded synopsis for HERITAGE for my leap into submissionville, I've been reading the works of James W. Hall.

Hall writes thrillers and essays and poems. His novels include those written with his continuing character Thorn, a minimalist who cherishes the environment and follows the simple rules where people should be kind to one another. He fashions fishing lures and lives with few possessions. But, boy, does trouble find that guy!

I'm only just now heading into his others fictional pieces. I have read BODY LANGUAGE, but I cheated because I knew Alex Collins and her dad Lawton Collins, who appear in three Thorn books, are the main characters. I've just begun ROUGH DRAFT.

Finding Hall's poems is a rich man's journey because I simply can't afford any of the four volumes he's published. But I did catch the four poems he had posted on his old website. Liked very much what I read.

Though I've read only a few of his short stories, I have found myself thoroughly enjoying the essays he collected in HOT DAMN!

Turns out Hall and I have lots in common. He's originally from Hopkinsville, KY, a place just a spit down HWY 41 from where I live in Indiana. Oddly, it's a place my family and I travel through on our way to one of our favorite places: Florida. That's where Hall felt driven to live. I fully understand. The only other place I'd like to live is North Carolina, which just happens to be where Hall and his wife have a second home.

One of his essays discusses going back to read books that had an impact on him in his formative years. I do that quite often, and have found myself being sorely disappointed. Melville's BILLY BUDD and Conrad's LORD JIM were two very important books for me along with James' THE TURN OF THE SCREW, Crane's RED BADGE OF COURAGE, Twain's HUCK FINN, and Lee's TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. Plus, every Ian Fleming James Bond novel I could check out on my mom's library card.

It seems every essay of Hall's I read I can relate to. So though I'm merely sitting here in the corner of my Indiana kitchen, I'm connecting with another word wrestler. Hardly an equal. His prose hits harder than mine. He's been at it longer and is no doubt a lot smarter. But in a simple way that maybe his Thorn could understand and appreciate, we can at least sit at the same table.

My mornings begin with making the coffee and getting breakfast ready for my husband, but my day never begins well unless I get to read a bit. My matins or morning prayer comes with opening one of Billy Collins' books of poetry. I read at least two, letting his fine, sharp knife peel back the gristle and flick away the fat rendering the fine succulent meat.

But the other day, I had a few extra minutes and beyond those poems I read a few paragraphs of Hall's latest, SILENCER. And I was struck by how Hall had somehow snuck in and wielded a similar fine, sharp knife, peeling away gristle and fat.

Hall has said he doesn't write poetry any more. Pffff, Grammy Maevie, a character of mine would say. It's niggled its way into his prose and the dear can't help it.

Alas, all these years later, the words I feel so madly in love with, offered out to me by James and Twain and Melville and Crane and Fleming and Conrad and Lee and Bradbury and all the others may have a different meaning for me now than they did then, but they remain unchanged as each author intended. As each author carefully nipped and tucked and sweated and searched and peeled and cobbled. Teaching as they pass along to another silly person who hears the voices and sees the lush scenery in the mind. Prickled by too many thoughts not to write them down, not to toss out the characters and allow them to suck in the sweet air of life.

Funny. Maybe a writer's life is so much less lonely than we imagine or pretend. As Wavy Gravy at Woodstock said, "Chew a bit and pass it on."

So thank you, Storytellers who have been brave enough to pass their words my way: John D. MacDonald, Ray Bradbury, David Morrell, James Michener, Mary Shelley, Flannery O'Connor, Ed Gorman, Gene Wolfe, Joe R. Lansdale, Andrew Vachss, David B. Silva, Brian A. Hopkins, Jean Rabe. And most recently, James W. Hall.

Thank you for the gift of your words.

Oh, Happy Day!

I have finished my first novel and am happily pounding away on number two. Spring brought with it some gift for me to be able to work again after too many months of infertility.



So bang, bang, bang! I'm hitting on all cylinders again and it feels great.



On the reading front... I'm knee-deep with John D. MacDonald's Travis McGee novels. I wondered how they would be this second time around, and they're better than ever. I highly receommend anything written by John D., but this time around I started with A DEADLY SHADE OF GOLD first, read them in order until CRIMSON when I backtracked and read THE QUICK RED FOX. Character Lysa Dean returns in FREE FALL IN CRIMSON, so I thought I'd refresh my memory of their dealings. Worked great! Now I'm reading CINNAMON SKIN. Does that mean the end of Trav adventures? Pish tosh. I can always read any title I want.



Ding! That's all the time I've allotted for online activities. It's back to my own writing.

"Ain't it funny how time slips away?"

Developing the discipline to blog is clearly something that has eluded me. Up to now.

"Hi, I'm Judi, and I've let being a disciplined writer slip."

Here's my excuse: I've been busy living life, or at least, trying desperately to keep up with everything.

My elder daughter is due to deliver my first grandchild any day now. She's officially due on July 27, but who knows. This very daughter was two weeks late herself and her younger sister was two months early. Maybe she'll be on time.

Said younger daughter just got her driver's license and a job at the mall.

The father of this pair (and my legal life partner) has just taken an early retirement from his reporter position at the local newspaper and is now doing freelance writing. He's also upped his guitar playing and performing appearances.

It's a busy place our house.

Here's another excuse: I'm working on something new.

Yes, yes, after struggling with my two novels (one in revision, one still being written) and my eclectic collection of short stories, I was hit with a totally new novel-length project. The fires are burning on that one, so...

Excuse #3: I've joined a local writers group and have been leading a writers' workshop at Willard Library.

Those who know me know I rarely take a backseat. (To those who don't know I served in several capacities with the Horror Writers Association: VP, Trustee, email newsletter editor, convention hostess, etc.) Anyway, the Midwest Writers' Guild of Evansville needed a treasurer, so...

The workshop at Willard will begin again in the fall. "Fall into Writing" will be the September/October offerings. On Monday, Sept. 10, we'll be exploring the writing process and developing plans. Then on Monday, October 15, the subject will be "More than you wanted to know about getting your words into print." We meet at 10 a.m. at the historic and very haunted library (21 First Avenue, Evansville, IN), but please do reserve a spot by calling the Willard (812-425-4309).

Those are my current excuses. I probably have more. In fact, I think there's now a website that offers excuses for writers, much like those quotes' pages. :-)

And how is your work coming along?

Best
Judi