Shoes and ships and ...

Before Sunday School started today, a couple of us women were talking about shoes. I guess that was still on my mind when I looked down and compared the footwear of the three men sitting at my end of the table. One wore ankle-high work boots, another a pair of comfortable slip-ons and the third a pair of highly polished wingtips.

Even though I know each of these gentlemen, I could tell by the boots who was the outdoors handyman, who was going to be on his feet for the next hour preaching and who was the businessman.

I thought then about the shoes the characters in my WIP wear. Morven, the heroine, wears a pair of sturdy boots outside the house and soft moccasins inside. When invited to a dance, she takes some stiff material and sews a pair of slippers that she knows will be ruined by the end of the evening.

Morven also is infuriated when the town assemblymen decide not to grant her the money to purchase her ward, Elisabeth Anne, her annual pair of shoes on the grounds that she has stopped growing and therefore can continue wearing the pair she has.

In another scene, Morven snares the rabbit that has been nibbling in her garden. She takes the skin to a tanner so she can make Tamsen's baby son a pair of fur-lined booties for winter.

Tamsen loves to work in the garden or sit outside weaving her baskets. She goes barefoot except in the coldest weather.

The villain, who manages to control Morven's life even after his death, drowns when his jackboots fill with water and drag him under the raging current.

Are shoes important to the story? Probably not in themselves, but they are details that add to character and setting -- and in the villain's case, the plot.

This doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention to the lesson. I was -- but don't we all have moments when our minds wander?

If we didn't, we wouldn't be writers.

One down and miles to go

After spending hours formatting my journal, I submitted it to Create Space. I should get my proof copy Monday and if all looks good I will sign off on it and then figure out how to get it on Kindle. Thanks to Raymond Griffith who made a special trip to take the photograph I described to him. So that is one thing I can cross off my list!

And, I am halfway finished editing "The Lunch Club." This was a fun book to write and I hope I get it polished enough to start sending it out soon.

Several people have asked me why it is so important to get my work published. Surely the personal satisfaction of having written a book is enough. "You got it out of your system," they say, as if a novel was one of those songs that get stuck in your mind until you want to scream.

One of the people who asked this baffling question was an artist. I asked her what she did with her paintings after she finished them. "Do you stack them in your closet?"

"Of course not," she said. "I sell them and people hang them on their wall to look at."

She didn't put all her talent into something that no one would ever see. I told her that a writer's published book is the same as her framed painting. It isn't finished until others read it. Publishing is a kind of vindication that our time and trouble were valuable to someone else.

It's a lot of fun, too, but I didn't tell her that. Artists are supposed to suffer.

I had a really good Idea for my blog. I thought about it around 3 a.m. and actually remembered it in the morning.

I also woke with a bad cold and was sick in bed for three days and recuperating for the next three. I didn't feel like doing anything but coughing, sneezing and whining.

I still retained some remnants of the Idea. But after I recovered, I had to catch up on my paid work (clients have the idea that their stuff should be posted as soon as they send it to me). So that took time, and my Idea got a little fainter.

Then my sister and her husband came to visit and I couldn't work on the computer while my company sat around, bored and unentertained -- and the Idea faded away to a wisp.

Now I am feeling better and have (almost) caught up on my work; the house is still clean from our frantic pre-company cleaning; someone actually bought a copy of my book from amazon.com (I have a tracking site and was obsessing for a few weeks, then made myself stop looking). What fun to see the arrow dip down the chart to show a sale!

And, I have the cover in hand for my CreateSpace nonfiction book and after one more run-through to spot typos, I am ready to submit it. So, some progress is being made.

Sure wish I could remember what the great blog Idea was, though.

Too many ideas -- too little time

I was beginning to feel good about getting caught up. After many hours hunched over my keyboard, I finally have the ms. ready to upload to Create Space. I am lacking a cover, but a photographer friend is working on it.

I "published" the book in 2002 with PublishAmerica. Please, no commiseration. I didn't know any better, all right? But the rights have reverted to me and I plan on seeing how well I do self-publishing where I will have more control of the product.

I am not doing this out of vanity; people are still asking me if I have a copy of the book so they can give it to a friend. The book is an account of my bout with breast cancer and tells a newly-diagnosed patient what to expect from treatment. It's not just clinical, I also discuss spells of depression and how to handle the reactions of friends and family. From what people tell me, it has helped them get through this difficult time in their lives.

Anyway, I hoped to complete this project and start editing another book I wrote about a year ago. After taking Eliza Knight's course, "Edit Your Book in a Month," I can see many places where it could be improved before sending it out into the world. Next up, doing the same process on my historical novel which is about three times as long as the other one.

Then what happens? A new idea for a new book. I can't stop thinking about it and my fingers itch to get it down on paper -- er, a digital file.

So, I need to set up a schedule. So many hours on paying work (I do have a job, even though I work at home), so many hours editing, so many hours for querying and marketing, and then -- so many hours for creating.

Let's see if I can stay with my plan. Maybe I need to get an alarm clock -- or set my computer to beep after working a for set time on one chore. Hmmm...

Escapism - Literally

One of the rules of blogging is that you must keep up with your posts.

So much for that -- I got in over my head and like any intelligent person, threw up my hands and called for a respite. I told my husband we were going to Pennsylania. He was surprised, but amenable, and we threw some things in a suitcase and began the 12-hour trip for a five-day visit with my sister.

The advantage was that there was no way I could keep up with my on-line class, my blog, my writing, or my (admittedly at-home) job. I didn't bring my laptop. I didn't even bring a notebook. I squelched my guilty conscience and had a great time.

Of course, when I came back, there was that backlog of work to be done. I think I have finally come to the end of the to-do list, but things keep getting added, so I am resigned that I will never quite finish.

I do have some priorities, though. And I am working through them. Job, yes, for the money comes in handy until I can earn enough from writing to quit. Oh wait, my job is writing. I meant writing books, not work-for-hire articles.

So I am simultaneously preparing my first book for self-publication, the contract having run out, and editing my fifth in preparation for sending it forth to find its fortune. Books two and three languish in that limbo known as "send the ms. and we'll look at it."

I also facilitate (teach) a class once a week so that takes some preparation. I am secretary of four organizations. I do a newsletter for a cancer support group. And, I am trying to market my novel.

Something obviously has to give. I refuse to stop writing and I can't easily get out of the other commitments, so the answer is: housework.

I may just write a book about how you can have your house look presentable by cleaning a half hour a day. Just don't look under the beds or in the closets.

Those darn hooks

I know, I know, I've been told often enough -- you need a hook. Never mind that I'm a fan of the slow opening, the getting to know the setting and the characters as an introduction to the story. Think James Michener.

That doesn't work for today's readers. Action must start in the first paragraph or they will slam the cover shut and go on to the next book on the shelf. Characterization and setting come later, almost as an afterthought.

Kathy Reichs has mastered the hook. Each chapter ends with a little twist, a dare, a come-on that makes you turn the page, eager to read what happens next . James Patterson's hooks have hooks.

I want to master this technique, because I want people to read my book with excitement and not yawns. I want people to tell me, "I couldn't put the book down."

So I am going through my WIP, checking my hooks as carefully as any fisherman checks his tackle box. I want my readers to be well and truly caught from the first sentence to the last.

I had a woman tell me years ago that she was trying to read my book (my first one), but every time she picked it up she fell asleep. She apologized immediately, explaining that it was on her bedside table and by the time she opened it she was already halfway to dreamland.

If I can come up with a beginning hook that would keep even her awake, I think I will be able to call myself a writer.

BookMarks Festival

A couple of friends and I attended the BookMarks Festival of Books in Winston-Salem yesterday (Sept. 11). My only complaint is that there were too many wonderful speakers and too little time.

The main reason I wanted to go was to see and hear one of my favorite authors, Diana Gabaldon (that's her in the photo). If you haven't heard of her enormous success with her Outlander series ... well, where have you been? I was hooked on the first one. Who knew you could mix paranormal, history and romance in one big volume?

I was fortunate to be able to attend two appearances. She gave a book talk right after lunch. I knew the seats would be taken early, so I hurried my companion to the tent where she was to speak. But -- on the way I had to stop and look at a book stall, and then again to talk to a writer who was handing out his cards to passersby. By the time we got there, there were no seats left under the tent, so we took two just outside.

Then it started to rain. I thought about my umbrella, still in my car -- in Monroe. I thought of getting up and seeking shelter. No way. I come all this distance, and I wasn't budging. My friend put the program over her head and hunkered down. I used my program to protect my camera.

It was totally worth getting damp. Ms. Gabaldon is delightful. She talked about writing her first novel in secret , even from her husband. She told how she landed an agent without having completed the first book. And shared that there might be one or two or even three more in the series. Everyone gave a cheer at that. Then she read a bit from her last book with a wicked grin. (For those of you who have read it, it was the passage wherein Jamie confronts Lord John after that gentleman and Claire comforted each other following Jamie's supposed demise and I won't go any further.)

Later on, she particpated in a panel discussion. I felt sorry for the other two presenters. Almost all the questions in the audience were directed at Ms. Gabaldon. And no wonder: her answers were candid and witty. Not that theirs might not have been, if they were given the chance.

There is something inspirational about seeing and hearing an author you admire. I am more determined than ever to finish my historical novel. It won't be nearly as good as hers, but it will be as good as I can make it.