December 2022

Thursday, Dec. 1

I was stuck writing chapter 3 today: the RCMP have arrived at the scene, the officer approaches, and …………

Um.

I read over my notes from past RCMP interviews, I tried to Google, but I couldn’t figure out the words the officers would use and I had too many questions about my specific scenario.

So I drove to our local RCMP detachment and asked (very politely) if there was anyone who could answer my questions.

An officer named Brent walked me through how our detachment would respond to my particular situation, and those details — combined with the phrasing and information I gathered with book #2 — is enough for me to crack this nut.

I am so grateful to our local officers for helping me with all three books. Someday I will deliver published novels to them, to prove to them I’m not just someone who fantasizes about murders in Invermere.

Friday, Dec. 2

Sometimes I spend too much time alone, writing and indoors, and then I get squirrelly.

Tonight I needed a mood boost so I set up our Christmas tree, decorated it with all the sentimental, mostly homemade ornaments we’ve collected, and allowed Michael Buble to croon me carols.

Oh, but first I put on lipstick and donned my fishnets.

Tomorrow’s wellness plan includes time on the lake (hopefully with friends!) and eating vegetables.

Saturday, Dec. 3

Day 2 of my mental health fix: an afternoon on frozen Lake Windermere with four of my lady friends. My son played in the snow while we skated and skied, roasted smokies and marshmallows, and got our visit on.

I can’t remember the last time I spent this kind of quality time with female friends.

We all met at burlesque dance class, and all love being outdoors and having adventures.

I told them about the opening of my mystery book, which was extra creepy since we were playing in my imaginary crime scene area. 

I feel human again! Recharged and ready to immerse myself back in my fictional version of this town again. 

Monday, Dec. 5

Will Lavender shares his tips for writing killer (haha) mystery novel openers via an essay in Now Write! Mysteries. One thought I find particularly intriguing is:

“Do not think of the crime; think about what the crime has done.”

– Will Lavender, “The Hook: Killer Beginnings in Mystery Fiction”

He cites Thomas Harris’s The Silence of the Lambs as a strong example: instead of gore and violence, the story opens with psychological suspense as Clarice and Hannibal meet for the first time. The result is chilling and effective.

This advice is helpful both for opening a novel, AND for how I think about writing my mystery novels in general: rather than showing violence and dead bodies, I’m much more interested in how Person X’s death affects those left behind, logistically and emotionally. That’s the root of motive, tension and suspicion.

Tuesday, Dec. 6

I hit 5,439 words today!! Woot woot! I hit my 5,000 word goal and took my guy out for sushi lunch to celebrate. 

It’s weird how hard it is to just stay in that chair and type. I keep finding myself standing up or washing dishes or bookkeeping for our business. 

At least I have self control over my hobbies: quilting, jigsaw puzzles and Lego are for the evening. They’re my reward for staying in that chair during writing time.

Wednesday, Dec. 7

While the kiddo did curling practice I planned my next scene. The most helpful line in my notes:

“What is the worst possible outcome for this scene?”

I’d already made a bullet list of what had to happen: a new location to describe, plus some essential action. When I reviewed that list with this question in mind, the one major plot twist stood out — and that twist is how I’ll end the chapter, so the reader wants to turn the page and find out what happens next.

I’m 95% sure this line (& my other notes in the photo) are from my online revision course with James M. Jackson via Sisters In Crime (Guppies’ Chapter) this year. That course was the BEST advice I’ve ever received on revising. Access to these courses (and the archived webinars) is entirely worth joining Sisters in Crime, regardless of whether you write mysteries or another genre.

Thursday, Dec. 8

I thought I’d run out of time to write. All my other to-dos had taken up most of my free hours, and suddenly I only had an hour until my kiddo would be home from school.

But I’ve learned that the best writing can be accomplished in even a short time, so I MADE myself sit down and read through my last chapter. (That’s how I trick myself into writing the next chapter.)

Then (as usual) I couldn’t help myself: I needed to continue the story, to add more sentences and words to get this scene in my head written down.

“Not enough time” is a paralyzing excuse for anyone with an ambition. But it’s just an excuse. If we want to achieve our goals, we have to use every second available to us to take a small step forward.

“… time [to write] must be stolen like a quick kiss between lovers on the run. As a shrewd woman once told me, ‘The busiest and most important man can always find time for you if he’s in love with you and, if he can’t, then he is not in love.’ When we love our writing, we find time for it.”

– Julia Cameron, “The Time Lie,” The Right to Write

Saturday, Dec. 10

There are many perks to leaving the house to write. For example: you might run into interesting people.

My kiddo had a mini camp at the toy store today so I spent that 1.5 hours at the cafe next door, piling up word count.

Then a celebrity walked in and gave me a candy cane!! So exciting.

Sunday, Dec. 11

I’m writing a scene set in my protagonist’s living room. I know what happens next in the story, I know the sequence of events, but that first sentence is so hard: what is she doing when we start the scene? 

I think about who she is and how her day has gone so far. Finally I know what she’s up to at 5pm, and I can see where and how she’s positioned in the room. 

My field of vision expands and I know there’s a red leather sectional — of course there is, knowing her! The room feels cold and echoey, which tells me there’s a lot of chrome and glass. 

And so on.

Writing is constant discovery and understanding. THIS is why I love writing so much.

Monday, Dec. 12

I’ve written manuscripts where the real-life season doesn’t match the fictional season, and it leads to issues.

I catch my characters wearing sweaters on hot August afternoons, because it’s chilly in the cafe where I’m writing.

I already struggle to write scents and tastes because I can’t smell or taste (I’m special), but at least I have friends’ descriptions to rely on when they can experience the time and place with me. When it’s the wrong season, I don’t have that help.

So I’m REVELLING in being able to experience (daily) the same weather as my characters in this book. Things will change by February, the true “when” of my story, but I can just do my best for now, and in a few months I’ll be able to refine the light descriptions and how the snow sounds underfoot.

Tuesday, Dec. 13

Today’s scene is set at Kpokl beach, which in my youth was an abandoned shoreline with an old fort where the teens would party.

Now it’s a locked-up private beach, reserved for the use of folks who buy properties in a particular development.

Invermere has plenty of these “ghost town” neighbourhoods: subdivisions full of pricey vacation homes that are used an average of 21 days per year. My protagonist lives in one of these developments. She likes the seclusion and privacy.

Both the beach and the development are metaphors for the ongoing tension in Invermere: us vs. them, locals vs. tourists. What a fantastic setting for murder.

Wednesday, Dec. 14

I love my “day job.” For one: it never takes up my whole day, so I can spend plenty of time working on my novels.

It paid for this iPad and keyboard that lets me write anywhere.

And when I settle in to write at my place of work (aka the pub), my love partner brings me bottomless hot chocolates and snacks as needed.

I spent a productive morning occupying a pub table through the busy lunch hour, finishing another chapter, planning an event for work and visiting with other customers.

Sometimes I’m tempted to “get a real job,” but it’s pretty hard to beat this gig.

Thursday, Dec. 15

This cool chart came to me via email this morning. It’s Jane Friedman’s annual refresh of her “Key Book Publishing Paths” info & insights. (If you’re a writer & don’t already know about Jane Friedman and The Hot Sheet newsletter, it’s a thing to know about.)

I’m drawn to “social” publishing. Publishing in installments was good enough for Charles Dickens, and in some ways it’s good enough for me.

My 2nd novel, When the Osprey Cries, was shared chapter by chapter with paying subscribers as I wrote it. Financially it was a success, and I surprised myself by LOVING the real-time connections with my readers.

But then I would feel guilty when I chose to play Lego with my kid rather than write. So I cancelled the Patreon campaign and moved my new community of readers (my “Work-in-Progress book club”) to a private Facebook group.

Self-publishing might work for me. I have 8 years of experience direct-selling at farmers’ markets, plus my professional marketing skills.

But honestly: I want a traditional publishing deal. I’ve dreamed of THAT PHONE CALL since I was a kid: an agent or publisher who thinks my work is good enough to publish. I NEED that pat on the head. It would validate all this effort & time I’ve invested.

That said, if I haven’t found the right agent/publisher by the time book #3 is done in 2023, I’ll consider the social/serial route again.

Because: anyone can be a writer, but to be an author your stories have to be READ.

Saturday, Dec. 17

Our afternoon was almost unbearably Canadian: we towed the ice fishing hut to its spot on frozen Lake Windermere, augered holes & caught our first fish.

Binge-watching Mythic Quest this month was a crash course in mainstream urban (aka young people) culture: I learned about being “cancelled” and that children can become professional “streamers.”

That version of reality is SO DIFFERENT from mine. I ski on the lake, build campfires, quilt and parent.

I got a bit panicky: are my novels even more Agatha Christie parlour room quaint than I’d thought?? Is my Canadiana crime literature too small of a niche to be marketable?

But then: my normal is super cool in its own way. I drove on a frozen lake today. My sister grilled us deer smokies, from a deer she’d killed herself.

Surely someone, somewhere, wants to read about this kind of life.

Monday, Dec. 19

I got 45 minutes in a cafe today: enough time to review my notes & dive back into the headspace of this next chapter.

I’ve struggled with “conflict” in my stories forever, but my planning templates prod me in the right direction.

This next scene has my protagonist and her dad at the gym. I’d assumed their relationship was positive, but then my template elbowed me in the ribs & I realized the scene (& novel as a whole) will be MUCH more interesting if they can’t get along, even though they want to.

I know people I like and respect, yet can’t seem to have an amicable interaction with. We just rub each other the wrong way. 

Suddenly that gym scene came together: her self-conscious silence on a treadmill beside her dad’s, when she’s already awkward in public & worried about other plot challenges.

Tuesday, Dec. 20

I finished my first draft of the gym scene today, while my kiddo battled monsters at a Dungeons & Dragons camp.

I spend a lot of time planning out my scenes and novels, everything from the setting’s sensory details to the characters’ emotional states and the flow of information in the scene.

So it was quite a surprise when one of my characters showed up at the gym three scenes before I planned to introduce him. I just looked over and there he was, on the rowing machine. 

Once I realized he was there, it all made sense: of course he would be there. 

It’s these little moments of magic that make writing intoxicating.

Wednesday, Dec. 21

I live in an uber-white town but try to write books that reflect the more diverse community we’re slowly (slowly) becoming.

That means I decide on my characters’ ethnicities and backgrounds with intention — I try not to assume they’re all like me (6th generation potatoes and porridge European Canadian).

This is really hard. Maybe one of the hardest parts of writing.

How do I battle a reader’s potential assumptions & establish a character’s cultural identity within the first few, critical sentences, without resorting to lazy, offensive cliches like “chocolate skin” and “almond eyes”?

AND: I try not to perpetuate mainstream North America’s “white as the baseline” assumption, where characters are presumed caucasian until proven otherwise. So ALL my characters need a distinct description or nod to their background.

And: every character needs to be treated with the same care, given their own backstory, motivation and sub plot. (Even the extraordinary Louise Penny has been critized for reducing Myrna, the sole Black woman in Three Pines, to a two-dimensional stereotype.)

I’ve found that names are an easy, effective way to start: Cora Navarro, in my second book. Officers Aira Policar and Scott McFarlane in this one.

But then: naming can be problematic too, as Rachel Rostad explained in her poem “To JK Rowling, from Cho Chang.”

My Google history is full of images of people. Do Black men get liver spots? I have no idea, but I can research that.

My hope is that good intentions + research + a willingness to learn and do better with each book will help me write the diverse community I want Invermere to become.

Thursday, Dec. 22

It’s a Christmas miracle: I woke up to an empty house! My kiddo has gone to visit his grandparents nearby (dressed in snow pants, thank goodness, or else his legs would have fallen off with this cold), and my sweetie left for work after boiling my tea water.

I’m going to set up at the kitchen table and strive to break that 10,000 word mark. 

An author on the Instagrams, Kiersten Modglin, just posted about finishing her latest thriller manuscript & diving head-first into the holidays. I’m jealous.

At some point I will do that too. My quilt-in-progress and an unopened Lego set call to me.

But I can’t NOT use these rare moments of solitude: I’m only 1/9 of the way done this story.

Sunday, Dec. 25

My ever-supportive mom gave me a Rolife miniature bookstore kit to build … and three scale-model versions of my future novels to add to the display!!

One for the Raven and When the Osprey Cries are written, but What the Eagle Saw is still 10,500 words in progress.

In other words: for Christmas, my mom got my novels published.

Amazing.

Tuesday, Dec. 27

My magazine editor friend Dan Fox once taught me how to write magazine articles: the first draft is the story, with facts and details.

The second pass over is when you sprinkle in the personality. Humour, quirky bits, metaphors and analogies.

This is how I approach writing scenes, now.

When I stare at that blank screen, I tell myself to just write down what happens. 

Then I read over the draft and insert any sensory details I missed, plus any subtle bits o’ description that will feed into the theme or plot or develop the characters.

Knowing that this is part of my process helps me relax when writing out that first draft. I know I can fill in the cracks and smooth the rough edges later.

Wednesday, Dec. 28

Maybe it’s inevitable when writing crime novels, but there are times when I can’t Google what I want to know.

Or: I can Google, but probably shouldn’t, if I don’t want to qualify for some Power’s watchlist.

“How do I kidnap someone?”

“Can a compound bow shot kill a human?”

“How do I blackmail someone long-distance?”

It happened yet again today, while brainstorming the details of how character X could break character Y’s trust. I have this wonderful twist in my plot, but it’s a criminal act I know nothing about. I can research online, but that’ll flag some watchdog, so I just have to reinvent the wheel and figure out the details myself.

(I know, I’m being coy, but I don’t want to spoil the twist.)

Thursday, Dec. 29

I wrote the first draft of a challenging scene today. It was EXTRA challenging because the cafe where I’ve been writing every afternoon (while my kiddo plays D&D nearby) was full of tourists here for the holidays.

Instead of sprawling guilt-free across a massive table for eight, I tucked myself onto the end of one and tried to ignore the strained conversation of the couple who chose seats less than a foot away from my iPad.

Why not just go home?

Dishes, laundry, Christmas stuff that needs to be packed away, work to-dos that can only be done on the desktop computer …

So I bought my $6 chai, tipped generously and tried not to take up too much space.

Current wordcount of book three: 12,026.

(Photo: the view from my man’s pub this morning. Also a view of my fictional crime scene.)

Friday, Dec. 30

Sometimes writing means planning out the story or a scene, sometimes it means actually writing, and sometimes it means fixing my drafts.

My opening scene was too heavy with backstory and unnecessary details (I could feel it when I read through my draft, like walking through sludge) so I chopped today.

It can be hard to cut words, so to ease the pain I make copies of the files, then slash away at the proper version. Usually, I never again look at the back-up copy: it gets deleted, eventually. But making a copy tricks me into feeling safe to cut.

So my word count is back under 12,000 now.

Worth it.

Saturday, Dec. 31

I’ve always been a fan of New Year’s resolutions, and use them to figure out and focus in on my writing goals.

In 2022 I managed to make writing a regular part of my daily life, and wrote a whole novel, so in 2023 we’re going to aim higher and manifest this “vision board” that’s hung on my fridge for a year.

That means writing a third novel, then some whole-hearted attempts to find the right agent and publisher for these books that I keep writing.