Defenestrating Mule

The curse and the blessing, they're one and the same. 
      ~The Indigo Girls, "Fugitive"

I'm sure Amy Ray had a completely different situation in mind when she wrote those words, but they perfectly describe my relationship with computers. My own much less poetic description is, "Computers are like the opposite sex. I love what they can do for me, but I hate what I have to go through to get them to do it."

Sometime last night, a tree swaying in the wind leaned on a wire somewhere around here. At least that's my theory. The result was a series of brief power outages that stopped our clocks, paused the humidifier, messed up the furnace cycle, made the phone beep, confused the heck out of the DVR, and--apparently--turned my laptop on and off and on again.

All these lovely electronic devices that keep me on time, moisturized, warm, amused and in touch with the outside world went haywire. I can deal with most of them, although to be honest, the remote for the DVR must be approached with the proper incantations and burnt offerings.

Mule--and I'm sure you appreciate why I named the laptop thus--is another story. I always turn it off at night, removing the widget that transfers signals from my wireless keyboard and mouse. Always. Every night. I'm more likely to shut down than I am to brush my teeth. Mule was zonked out in his stable when I went to bed last night.

So why was his power light flashing this morning? Why, when I tapped the touchpad, did my desktop come up? Perhaps, I thought muzzily, my husband, he of the magic fingers, had turned it on when he got up. He often checks the weather on Mule rather than on his own machine before he goes to work.

Hubby claimed he hadn't even entered the office today. And Mule's light might have been on, but nobody was home. When I clicked on any of my icons, nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen for a very long time. At last a message appeared, informing me "the signal failed to transfer." I was advised to shut down using Ctrl+Alt+Delete or the power button. I tried both methods, and nothing stubbornly went on happening.

So I took a shower. Well, I shrieked and swore and sniveled, then took a shower. Dammit, Mule, I have work to do! People are depending on me. I'm depending on you, you thick-headed, literally half-assed creature. You see that window beside the desk? You know what happens when I stick you out there and let go? Think about it.

He of the magic fingers waited outside the shower curtain until I paused for breath. "It's up now," he said. "Everything works."

I poked my head out of the shower and breathed a seductive "Huh?"

"All I did was hold the power button down for three seconds or so."

See what I mean? Proper incantations and burnt offerings. Magic fingers help, too. Then again, maybe it was the threat of defenestration.

Susan Coryell Author: FRAMED by Nikki Andrews

Susan Coryell Author: FRAMED by Nikki Andrews

The GoPro(c) Technique

Recently I watched the 900^th Formula One Grand Prix, a breathtaking spectacle of high-tech cars glittering under brilliant lights in the night-time desert of Bahrain. A feast for the eyes even if you don’t care about the intra-team rivalries or the fine details of aerodynamics or the constant jostling over rules.

But I digress.

The pre-race show featured a 20-second montage of those 900 races, dating back to the 1950s. What struck me was not the percentage of the drivers I recognized (a benefit of my age), but the progressive improvement in the images. From grainy black and white stills to handheld newsreels to helicopter shots to in-car cameras, we got closer and closer to the action. During the race, we were able to watch from just above the driver’s head as his car was speared by another and did a barrel roll.* The capability now exists, as in Ron Howard’s film Rush, to show a driver’s pupils narrowing and widening.

In other words, we’ve moved from telling to showing.

It’s one thing to tell the viewer that Esteban Gutierrez crashed; it’s quite another to show the sky rotating over the rollbar of his machine. Though I was ensconced on a comfy sofa, my head spun after that shot.

All of which is to remind you that this is the effect you want to create in your writing. Imagine you are a GoPro© camera attached to your character, seeing through her eyes, hearing through her ears. Even better, imagine you’re a next-generation GoPro©, with the capability to record every physical sensation--the racing heart, the roiling stomach, the aching muscles. And once you’ve done that, take it a much deeper step. We’ll call it an In-Heart camera, perhaps, one that portrays love, hate, anger, joy, fear, rejoicing.

But you don’t need a camera. You’re a writer. All you need are imagination and words. Go on--show the world.

* The driver’s reaction: “Whoa, what was that?” He climbed out unassisted and walked away safely.

Susan Coryell--A Red, Red Rose

Please welcome fellow Wild Rose Press author Susan Coryell.

Thanks to Nikki for inviting me to be a guest on your wonderful blogspot. 

It's great to have you here, Susan. Take it away!

Somewhere out there, I’m pretty sure, is a ghost in search of an author. See, I have never actually experienced the spirit world, though Lord knows I’ve tried. When my realtor husband listed a supposedly-haunted historic estate for sale, he said he was planning to sell the ghost and throw in the estate for free, though neither he nor I ever saw, heard, tasted, smelled or felt the spirit’s presence.

Still, the haunted estate inspired my latest book, A Red, Red Rose, a cozy mystery/Southern Gothic , published by The Wild Rose Press, 2013.  Twenty-year-old Ashby Overton travels to Moore Mountain Lake in Southwestern Virginia (based on Smith Mountain Lake, where I now live) to be an au pair to her 7-year old cousin, Jeff. Ashby has an ulterior motive: revealing family secrets and searching out her roots at the historic family estate, Overhome. Her first night in her room in the oldest wing of the house, Ashby is “greeted” by what turns out to be Rosabelle, an ancient family ghost. Ashby’s search for answers elicits more than she ever dreamed and she finds that some secrets, no matter how deeply-held, are meant to be revealed. She also finds a confidant in Luke, the stable boy. My novel involves mystery, history, romance and a ghost. I’m proud to report that A Red, Red Rose was nominated for a literary award by the Library of Virginia.

I would definitely choose Rosabelle, the spirit, as a favorite character because she was so much fun to create! Never having experienced a ghost, I relied on trusted friends who have successfully delved into the spirit world. With some advice from them, and a lot of imagination, I created Rosabelle. Amazingly, my dear spirit turned out to fit the exact definition of a family ghost, according to a certified paranormal expert who reviewed A Red, Red Rose after publication. Wow! That was a pleasant surprise; I thought I had mostly made up everything about my ancestral spirit.

To answer some of Nikki’s questions:

What authors do you return to and where do you find new authors?

For personal reading, I return again and again to an old favorite mystery author, Daphne du Maurier, author of Rebecca and Jamaica Inn, among others. I also enjoy reading new books written by my writing colleagues at L&L Dreamspell and The Wild Rose Press, as well as works authored by Lake Writers, my critique group, which I could not live without when it comes to revising and editing.

What do you like best/least about writing?

One great thing about writing is I can work wherever and whenever I find inspiration—love my laptop! I even take it to the dock in nice weather, and it always goes on trips with me. I find writing isolating when I am composing, and noise and interruptions make me cranky. The unexpected bonus I’ve discovered with my writing is meeting other writers—in person and online—through blogs and websites, Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter. Technology affords writers infinite ways to bond. Another definite plus is the opportunity to speak about my books and writing.  I lead workshops, hold signings, prepare panel discussions and do other presentations, from Virginia to Hawaii. A personal favorite was my participation in the Virginia Paraquest last spring. Among the witches, psychics, ghost busters and hypnotists, I mingled, somewhat out of my comfort zone, holding a fake long-stemmed red rose, and talking about writing paranormal fiction. I am delighted that they’ve invited me to return again to this year’s Paraquest. 

What else are you working on?

I’m excited about my next book—just sent the manuscript to my editor. Entitled Beneath the Stones, the novel picks up where A Red, Red Rose left off. Five years later Ashby is planning her wedding to Luke, her love interest in the first book. But, there’s a big problem: Overhome is in financial distress and it’s up to Ashby to save the estate from bankruptcy. While most of the original characters appear, a host of new ones become involved as a Civil War ghost tries to disrupt Ashby’s plans. I’m hoping The Wild Rose Press will pick up Beneath the Stones. Many of my lovely readers have clamored for a sequel. Of course, I am still waiting to meet my first ghost in person.

Talk about the first story you wrote:

My first attempt at novel-writing elicited a somewhat Disneyesque young adult mystery called Doubleheader. I never seriously tried to publish it—but I did prove to myself that I could carry out a long work with a beginning, middle and end. Loosely based on my twin brothers when they were teens, the novel involves a pitcher-catcher twin duo who telepathize their signals to one another. My “success” led me to write another YA novel, Eaglebait, about school bullies from the victim’s perspective. Eaglebait won two major awards: The NY Public Library’s “Books for the Teen Age” and the International Reading Association’s “Young Adult Choice.” I’m currently revising and updating the novel to include cyber-bullying and planning to publish it through Amazon within the next few months.

What are your favorite non-writing activities?

When I’m not writing, I enjoy all that my beautiful lake home offers—kayaking, cruising, swimming and just dock-sitting-sunset-watching leisure. I also play at golf and stay fit with yoga and walking. My husband and I love to travel, especially when our grandchildren are involved.

Advice for Newbies:

Just keep reading and writing. Writers have to write—curse or blessing? I know not which.

It's been a delight having you here, Susan. Best of luck with your fascinating book!

Thanks, Nikki. It’s been fun blogging and I’d love to respond to any comments. Ghost-busters, welcome!

Susan Coryell

Contact Susan at:

www.susancoryellauthor.com

www.susancoryell.blogspot.com

Buy links:

To purchase A Red, Red Rose, use the links below.

http://amzn.com/B00GVKMG0K

The Wild Rose Press:  http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=1146

Audra Middleton and Hitchhiker

Please welcome my friend Audra Middleton, whose recently released Hitchhiker, from Champagne Books, is a real winner! It's good to have you here, Audra.
 
Tell us about Hitchhiker, Audra. 

Hitchhiker is something like a backward X-Files. It is about a group of FBI agents solving normal crimes with their paranormal gifts. My main character, Ainsley, has a supernatural ability that makes her a human surveillance device. She’s being recruited by this FBI freak squad, but is hesitant to join them due to her laundry list of insecurities.

How did it come about?

I had spent years writing my first novel, a fantasy, and I was looking to write something a little lighter, set in modern day USA so I didn’t have to create a whole new world. I decided to start by "writing what I knew," so I made my main character a sarcastic middle school teacher (I used to be one), and then for fun I gave her the ability to hitch a ride in other people’s central nervous systems. Naturally, with a talent like that the FBI would be interested in her. It just kept going like that, one idea building on the last until I had myself a quirky little novel.

What changed as you wrote or researched?

As I wrote it, I had realized I needed to develop my antagonist more. I ended up adding and revising several chapters as I spent more time in his head.
 
I love that twist on a popular TV show. Speaking of influences, what authors do you return to again & again? Where do you find new authors to read?

I love reading Beverly Cleary to my kids, and I enjoy reading Stephen King myself. I find new authors through my on-line critique group and through my publishing company, Champagne Books and their Burst line. I really enjoy reading indie work. It’s refreshing.

We are fortunate to have so many sources for good writing these days. Do you have a writing routine or ritual? What distracts you when you’re writing? 

I like to sit in my recliner with my laptop, giant dictionary and a cup of coffee. But as long as I’ve got a great character in mind, I can write anywhere. My main distraction to writing is life – laundry, my job, running my kids from one practice to the next. But you have to live to write.

I hear you! My kids are grown, but there are still so many distractions. What do you like best/least about writing?

I love it when my characters take over. That’s when writing is more fun than work.The most challenging thing for me as a writer has been putting myself "out there." Letting others read my writing, at first, felt a bit like getting naked in front of them. Once I got used to that, it was time to pitch. After that, I had to start marketing. Every step of the way I'm exposing myself to more people. It’s been challenging, but it’s a lot more fun to share my writing with people than with a file drawer, and that thought is what keeps me going.
 
A large percentage of the writers I know struggle (to put it mildly) with marketing. If we were naturals at it, we'd be selling stuff, wouldn't we? One a more pleasant note, what are your favorite non-writing activities?

I like to read to my boys, play poker with my friends, and relax in front of a good movie with my husband. I would add daydreaming, but I consider that part of my writing process. 


A lot of non-writers don't realize how important daydreaming is to the creative process. We may look idle, but we're working furiously. In those daydreams, what else are you working on?

I am polishing up a romantic comedy about a woman whose normal life unravels and as a result she ends up falling for a drummer, coming to terms with her unconventional childhood, and discovering that normal was never really in her best interest. I am also working on the third and final book in my fantasy series and a sequel to Hitchhiker.

I can see the t-shirt already--Normal is not in my best interest. Great tagline. Where has writing taken you that you never expected to go?  

I spent a good deal of time researching how to poison people for this novel, which isn’t something I’ve considered in real life. It’s harder than you’d think (if you don’t want it discovered).

(Shivers) Remind me not to make you angry. How do you deal with dry spells? 

To deal with writer’s block I try to edit sections I’ve already written, skip around and write fun scenes that have popped into my head but I’m not sure where they’ll fit in, or if I’m really stuck, I’ll sometimes read the dictionary. It seems weird, but interesting words can sometimes spark new ideas for me.

It's not weird. Dictionaries are among my favorite books. Do you remember the first book you ever read or had read to you? First story you wrote?  

The first chapter book I remember reading was a biography of Helen Keller. I sat in the recliner all day and read it start to finish. The first story I remember writing was about a giant cookie that comes to life. It won me a seat at the Young Author’s Conference that year.
 
Audra, thanks for spending the time to be here today, and thanks for your thoughtful answers to my questions. Readers, be sure to check out Hitchhiker at the links below the blurb.

Blurb:

Small town art teacher, Ainsley Benton, has the ability to see, hear, and feel what other people are experiencing, and now the FBI’s freak squad wants to use her “human bug” abilities to catch bad guys. Despite her fear of commitment, failure, and responsibility, Ainsley temporarily agrees to help this team of misfits, and ends up risking life and limb to investigate a conspiracy that may only be one of her schizophrenic co-worker’s paranoid delusions.


Contact: Audra loves to connect with readers at  http://www.audramiddleton.com or http://www.facebook.com/AudraMiddletonAuthor

Buy Links for Hitchhiker:

Burst Books: http://burstbooks.ca/product.php?id_product=110

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00GFW97HE

 

Barnes & Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hitchhiker-audra-middleton/1117785904?ean=2940045530002

 

 

Killer Pancakes and a Cozy Mystery

To be perfectly honest, the only thing "killer" about these pancakes is the calorie count. On the other hand, six of them provide enough fuel for a day's hike up North Pack Monadnock Mountain in southern New Hampshire--one and a half miles trailhead to summit, with a net elevation gain of 1000 feet. 

This recipe is based on one found in Maple Syrup Cookbook by Ken Haedrich.

Killer Pancakes (serves 2 generously, 3-4 lightly)

Ingredients

1/2 cup cornmeal

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup rye flour (whole wheat or all-purpose may be substituted)

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder

2 eggs

3/4 cup milk plus a little extra

1 Tbsp molasses or honey

2 Tbsp oil or melted butter, plus some for the skillet

Extras: chopped nuts, seeds (chia, sunflower, sesame), chopped dried fruit, shredded coconut, small fresh fruit (berries, sliced bananas, chopped apples)

Stir together the dry ingredients and make a well in them.

In a different bowl, beat the eggs well, stir in the milk and oil.

Pour the egg mixture and the sweetener into the dry ingredients. Stir just until the batter is smooth; do not beat. Beating makes the pancakes tough. If the batter is thick, stir in a little more milk.

Heat the griddle or skillet (I prefer my electric griddle set at 375 degrees; yours may vary) and add the oil. 

Drop about 2 Tbsp of batter onto the griddle for each pancake; top each with one or two "extras." I like to use one crunchy and one sweet, for example coconut with banana or walnuts with dried cranberries. Cook about 1 minute on each side, just until golden. Serve hot with softened butter and warm syrup.

Excerpt from Framed, coming soon from The Wild Rose Press.

“Were they lovers?” Jenna asked, wide-eyed. “You always hear that about artists and their models.” Then she blushed.

“Oh, no! Jerry never had any interest in Abby as a woman,” Ginny answered.

“But they died,” Jenna prompted, absorbed in the story.

Ginny nodded. “Ten years ago last winter. They went missing during a snowstorm. The police went nuts trying to find them. At first, everyone assumed they had just run off together, but it wasn’t like that. Mike, her husband, really stirred things up, insisting something had happened. He forced the cops to look into it. 

“It took the authorities about three weeks to find them. A hunter came across them in the snow.” She looked rather sick. “The coyotes had been at the bodies, but it looked like he killed her and then himself. Mike moved out west and never came back.”

She sighed and returned to the present. “All of which means this painting may be a gold mine, Jenna. Let us clean it up, verify it is what I think it is. There may even be a signature under all the grease and smoke. Would you feel better if we came up with an agreement about what happens then?”

Sue and Elsie excused themselves and went to the workshop down the stairs from the gallery. “I’d forgotten he killed himself,” Sue said. 

“Don’t you believe it,” Elsie replied. “Jerry wouldn’t hurt a fly. That was no murder/suicide. It was a double murder.”

The Day After

On the day after Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for the Thanksgiving I celebrated yesterday. It was small--just my husband, our son, and me--quiet and low-key. Restful. We ate well but moderately, did the dishes and then, enjoying the effects of tryptophan, watched couple Doctor Who retrospectives. After all the upheavals of the last year, it was good to have a day like that.

I've been caught up in the fiftieth anniversary hoopla this month. How could I not be? I lived through those terrible days of November, 1963. Days that destroyed forever any hope I secretly harbored that life might ever return to normal.

It's funny how we keep returning to the traumas of our youth. I was thirteen in 1963, already hit with the double whammy of unprepared-for puberty and my family's move from New Jersey to Pennsylvania. I feel great empathy for immigrants, because I know how hard such moves are. Everything about my new home felt alien. In fact, I never called it home. I didn't feel at home again until I created my own years later.

The assassination was the final installment of a searing trilogy that year. I remember watching the sky as I walked home from school, expecting Russian bombers any minute. I remember my father's almighty cursing, for once unrestrained, at the killing of Oswald, and my dim understanding of his sense of helplessness was perhaps the most terrifying aspect of that long weekend.

As the nation struggled to piece itself back together on the day before Thanksgiving, my mother timed her labor pains while basting the turkey she knew she wouldn't be home to serve. That night I put my four siblings to bed and slept uneasily on the couch until my dad came home sometime before dawn. When my mother called to tell me I had a new brother--who now lives in Dallas--my only response was to ask how to cook sweet potatoes. At thirteen, in a bewildering new body, in a house I hated and a world gone mad, I made Thanksgiving dinner for the first time.

So a Thanksgiving like yesterday was a blessing. Sure, there were forty-nine others in between, some memorable, most blending into a haze of faces, voices, laughter, changes, traditions. But I think yesterday will stand out in my memory for its sheer sense of ordinariness. No dramas, no alarms. I even had time to relax with a new knitting pattern.

I wish I could borrow a Tardis and reassure the young girl I was. But what would I tell her? That she would be all right? She wasn't, not for a long time. That the world would settle down? It never has and it never will. Maybe just this: There will be ordinary days. Good days. Savor them.