Murder Most Foul

First off, you'll note that I've changed a few things here. I think it took me ten minutes to figure out how to change the header picture--or where to go to do it. This picture is looking down the tracks in DeKalb. The curious building in distance is a coal shoot. I think I've heard that kids would play inside it. I would have been one of those kids, my curiosity so that I should have been a murder mystery writer at the beginning.

But I digress...

The print here is different too. Let me know if you hate, love, or are indifferent to it. I happen to like it and probably won't be changing it.

Now for today's post: "Murder Most Foul..."

Author J.B. Fletcher as played by Angela Lansbury

I revert to J.B. Fletcher a lot. Even though the way in which the TV show was formulated, you don't necessarily want your book to be done that way--with the murderer confessing at the end, or Jessica just happens to walk in on the murder victim. Or my personal favorite when she trips up the murderer, gets them to say something that nails them as the murderer and nearly gets shot before the police detective bursts in at the very last second.

I began my mystery "Murder on the Mississippi" last summer (I believe), and after a few chapters I had to stop and figure things out. I'm not a mystery writer. I have never attempted such in my life. Sure, I place some sort of mystery in my books, but that sort of keeps the reader involved. Writing a murder mystery takes a lot more thought, background and figuring out who is the murderer, and if it actually throws everyone off, is another matter entirely.

I think I changed my murderer about 3 times. Once I decided everyone would guess so-n-so did it, that put me back to square one. It's not easy, let me tell you, trying to decide on who murdered the victim and making it not look quite so obvious. All the red herrings can be obvious, of course. I may even make at least one of them act guilty as hell. Two will have personal relationships with the victim, and one was seen publicly arguing vehemently before her murder.

If only J.B. really existed, I could ask her how she decides. I could talk with her. She looks easy going. In fact she was very nice to budding authors (back in the day) in a number of her shows. I wish I could read her book "The Corpse Dance At Midnight". Sounds like a real riveting story. I have read the murder mysteries which are "based" on the TV show, but believe me, they aren't. Sort of ruins it when the author changes that Dr. Hazlett is married, and that Jessica flies an airplane-which she never did in her shows.

But I digress.

After writing for 40+ years, and pretty much mastering (I use the term lightly), my vampire works, I guess I felt it was time to try something different, and challenge myself. Nothing like trying to walk on water, or fly without benefit of wings. But boredom overwhelmed me last year. I took a portion of the year off. Needed it. You need to recharge energies that were depleted during the upsurge of energy you had in your youth, especially when you thought you had life by the neck. In which case I didn't, so there was some depression going on.

At this point in life I'm just going for whatever life hands me. Hoping that this year is a little better, where sales are concerned. Since handing over the fifth book in my Sabrina Strong series, I'm thinking there's a chance I could make better money. And I'm taking my social security as soon as I can. My birthday isn't until August 27th, so that's a long wait, but we've got plans I should be able to take the summer off. I hate driving the bus in the summer. I hate driving the bus PERIOD!

Again, I digress. Where were we?

The choice of murderer.

Yes, in most murder mysteries, it's usually the very last person you expected. And that becomes a problem when the reader understands this rule as well. Confounding them is your job as a writer, but you also have to throw in little clues along the way, try not to make them too glaring or obvious, just shoot something out there, and your characters don't react to any of it. They act like everything is normal, or that there's a clear explanation why someone's hat is out in the middle of the woods, on the trail to the murder site.

My one biggest clue is (among others, like the hat), is the shoe. Or rather the foot print which the shoe leaves behind in the mud.

These are Doc Martins. I've been sitting on something I scribbled on a note card from a book I'd read way last year: Chukka boots. I didn't know what those were, and only yesterday looked it up. Apparently they're any sort of boot. Dr. Martins also can look like any sort of boot, but I chose this one as it simply caught my eye.

And the character/murderer, who wears them isn't about to chuck them because they got blood all over them. These cost over $100, and the murderer doesn't want to buy new. My murderer makes a lot of mistakes. I came away from one of the MSW shows in which Jessica said, "It's the little things that will slip you up." Yes. The little things. Although not getting rid of the boots is a big thing, but if no one suspects you, and you hide them in your closet for a while, who will know? Right?

This is where my young lady, Lainey, comes into the fray, and slowly begins to unravel the clues because she doesn't believe any of the people the sheriff has arrested is the murderer. Even the one who is obvious. Why? Well, I'm working on that.

Hope you have a good week! Talk later.

The New Year Begins...

Last year was a year of working out the kinks. In my back, in my thoughts, in everything, really.

I took the year off from writing. Well, a portion of the year, since I felt I needed it. Some writers have referred to it as writer's block--any time you can't write. I tend to think of writer's block when you can't continue writing, or even start. And this shouldn't last very long, if you know how to stimulate the writing muscle.

No. Having been writing for four decades, I know that I've gone long periods where I simply needed time away from writing. A break from it. This is what it is. I've no idea if I can get back to it this year. I may not. Not that I don't have ideas. I do. I would like to, but there may be a number of reasons why I won't.

For one thing, during those decades of writing, I did a lot of it. And, for those who have only just begun writing, you've always had it easy. A computer, instead of pen/pencil & paper, or typewriter. I wrote every day, even when I was in school. In fact I probably wrote my stories instead of studied. (I hated school, including college--until I got to take writing courses, of course.) It was all practice. I didn't see much published before the age of 40, and after that, it looked like none of my books would be published, until I self-published "Spell of the Black Unicorn". And had a great book signing in a local Borders.

Anyway, the point is I never gave up. I didn't stop writing like a possessed woman. I worked at a job and wrote when I was home, whenever I could. I didn't stop to watch too much TV, I feel like I missed out on a lot. I quit writing a few times, as I've mentioned. Once, when I worked in a craft store, I concentrated on crafting for 3 or 4 years. I made money at it, but not enough to live on. But it was nice to make money at something I liked doing. Then, I went back to writing and didn't stop writing, until now.

This isn't to say that I'm not doing anything writing-wise. I've finished edits (to the best of my ability) on the fifth book in the Sabrina Strong series. I have three more written (the 8th one still needs some work), and all I plan on doing is the last go-through on #6 & #7.

In the meantime, I've gone back to crafts and crocheting. I've made a number of afghans over the last 3 years. One I gave away to a friend, and one as a baby shower gift, and I may make one for a friend who is getting married. I've returned to crafting, merely because I think there's a market for it, but need to find somewhere to sell them. I was known as the "Coke Bottle Lady". I usually painted Christmas scenes, Santa's, snowmen, and other things on them. I took orders all the time. I charged $6 for the small bottles, and $12 for the large, antique ones I painted, and they flew off the shelves.

Also, last year I re-discovered yoga, and I'm keeping up with it, although, I got lazy and have been doing it sporadically, but I'm going to step it up again. Walking in the winter is not my cup of tea. I used to go cross-country skiing, but I don't have a pair of boots any more. And I'm afraid of falling or twisting an ankle. I still have to work for a living.

Speaking of which I dream of the day I can quit the bus company I work for. I won't go into why, but any job has its annoying qualities, including bosses and supervisors, and people you simply can't stand to be around. Oh. And the job itself.

And in August--a long way off, but the way the calendar seems to turn pages at the speed of sound (yes, time seems to fly, but it really isn't going any faster or slower than it should--it just seems like it), I turn 62 and I will be taking social security. My husband is 4 years younger, but he has to wait until 65 to take his. We are looking into our later years hoping we can hold on and be able to buy the trailer and eventually live in it. Where? Wherever the hell we want. His parents lived and worked in RV parks, so we know the in's and out's of it.

At any rate, the new year has begun, and I'm just going to go day-by-day, and see what tomorrow brings. If I write a little here or there, then so be it. If I don't, no big deal. It's there when I feel like going back to it. I only know that I'll feel refreshed when I do.

Thanks for joining me today. Hope your year brings the things you want, but, if not, maybe there's something else there waiting for you to discover.

Yuletide Greetings

As this year slowly comes to a quiet end, I realize I've taken some needed time off from writing. I needed it because of burn-out. Not that I haven't worked on one thing or another. But also my schedule at my job became really too much for me. All I wanted to do after driving a transit bus for 7 hours a day is to come home and put up my feet and crochet. It relaxes me.

And since I was working on an afghan, I made one for a friend whose cancer had come back. She has been our friend at work for many years, and it's not just that she has the same last name (not related). Anyway, here's a picture she sent of the afghan I made her.

She was so thrilled to get it, she had no idea I was making this for her. She really loved it.

I have been working on getting the fifth book in series out/to my publisher. I've got three more after this and they are all in some form of draft or another. I'm ending the series at #8. At least for now. I'm not sure if I'll be writing more vampire novels. I want to try my hand at mystery. I've been writing vampire fiction for so long, it's become... old. I have a book that I chose from a store, called "Vampire Academy", and I tried to read it, but just couldn't get into it. Especially two women on first page about to suck blood from each other. Oh, gag me.

Other things have become more pressing, too. My need to work on crafts again. I don't know to what end. I have a lot of crafts made from almost 20 years ago still packed up, and it's hard to figure out how to sell them. No. I don't want to sell on-line. I just don't feel like going through all the crap of doing that. I don't live in town, so a little garage sale won't get people out here to buy... I've tried it once. And if I rent a spot in a craft sale, you worry about getting that rent money back and make something from sales on top of it. Pooh!

There aren't many "craft" stores around that take your stuff on commission. And the one that I know of is crammed full. How would my stuff stand out more than anyone else's?

So, I'm sort of in a little stand-still. I'm beyond trying to push myself. Nothing seems to work out for me, and I'm at the age where I don't want to have to worry about finding a new job, or learning a new job. I just don't care any more. I'm hoping to retire someday, some way. Just not work and have a trailer and plop ourselves down somewhere and enjoy life. I'm not sure if or when that can happen. Gotta get a trailer first.

Well, that's the news from Lake Woebegone. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, if I don't see you before.