Break Time!

Do you take a break between manuscripts? Don't you think your computer might like a little respite too?

Photo courtesy of Drew Williams, Pexels.

These are some of the things I like to do when I'm in between manuscripts:

1. Clean your screen and keyboard. If you're like me, sometimes when you get on a creative roll, you eat and drink at your desk (or in the coffee shop, or on the couch, or patio table, etc.) Eating means sticky or greasy fingers. Using lens cleaner or a dampened with water cloth (NO PAPER TOWELS- THEY CAN SCRATCH), clean both screen and keys.

2. Don't forget to clean INSIDE your computer: get rid of junk, old emails, copies of your kids' school papers, spam, anything you don't need. Then, do a defrag to clear out memory.

3. Now's the time to get anything fixed: replace worn out power cords, keys with no letters on them, make upgrades, etc.

4. Clean your workspace. Dust the desk, throw out papers, clean the clutter. I like to reorganize my workspace once it reaches critical: too many papers, projects, and 'stuff', like a tiny rubber shark from a book festival that just sits on my desk. Happy work space, happy worker.

5. Organize the notes and pages from the project you just finished. I keep each project in it's own cardboard box. Once the book is published and about 2 years old, I throw those notes out. I figure that's a safe period of time if anyone wants to sue me for plagiarism. I have the work product which shows my progress and that the novel is mine.

6. Since each project can span over a year (or two...) with revisions, and I'm working on several different projects, I spend a lot of time on my laptop. To help reduce eye fatigue, I enlarge the type to 125%. I can still see the entire page at this level.

7. Think about lighting. Is your space well lit? How about the background on your laptop or desktop. A little more light can also reduce eye strain.

8. Maybe you need to change the scenery a bit; add a plant, a new picture, whatever boosts your mood, and therefore, your productivity. Whatever the subject, I have a little something which relates to the work; a little figurine, a picture of a Hollywood movie star that I think my character looks like, or even a crystal or such. I put it on my desk and it can sometimes inspire me when I get stuck.

After a short rest and recharge, both you and your computer will be ready for the next project.

Happy writing!

Char

The Fight for Independents!

We Americans love our independence.

We love independent realtors.

Independent business owners.

Independent political parties.

Independent thoughts.

Independent bookstores.

Independent farmers.

Independent filmmakers.

But not independent authors.

We are treated like the weird relative at Thanksgiving. Publishing people smile nervously when approached by them- and sit with the 'regular people' at the other end of the table.

As a hybrid author (books published by both traditional publishers and Indie), I'm understanding the struggle of Indie authors so much more clearly.

The disdain.
The rolling of the eyes.
The dismissing of the validity of my work.
The "we don't want your kind here" at stores, events, and festivals.

Never mind that my book (Evolution Revolution: Simple Machines) was honed over ten years and edited by peer and professional. Ignore that I spent money hiring a professional illustrator (Cathy Thole-Daniels). Skip over the four previous books published by traditional publishers (St. Martins/Thomas Dunne, Flux, Leap).

Some Indie published books are awful- I've read them. One book was so bad, I put a Post-It on every mistake (grammar, spelling, POV, etc.) and it looked like a George R.R. Martin Game of Thrones book where people flag when a character gets killed (yes, that many). I used it in a writing what-not-to-do presentation.

But I've read some great ones (I'm going by content, not sales, so Fifty Shades of Grey doesn't meet my qualifications). Sometimes, the author then goes on to a traditional contract, but the publishers didn't see the potential at first- until the public did and the bucks started coming in.

I understand that there are sooo many books out there and the traditional publishers can't print them all. (Hence, Indie pubbing helps with that...) But traditional publishers have also chosen so many I-can't-believe-you-published-this-crap books; like If I Did It by OJ Simpson. What the hell were they thinking- oh yes, celebrities bring in money, even when the book is awful.

So it all comes down to money (except for those coffee table books people publish/buy just to look chic and sophisticated). If an Indie author is trying to sell their book, they want to make money, same as Indie bookstores. (Gotta pay for the illustrator, travel to book events, PR.) It seems to me both sides could work out an arrangement which gives them each profits and happiness.

It's a hard road, but I'm not giving up. I believe in this project too much.

And yes, there are successes, but many more that aren't. It's okay, I'm not discouraged.

And I'm not going away...

Char

Just the Facts, Nothing Else.

"You have the right to remain silent!"

We've seen this situation in so many movies, books, and tv programs. And we think we know how it goes.

Wrong.

Using information provided by forensic crime scene detective Guy Olivieri, my partner 'in crime' at the NJ SCBWI annual conference in June, we're going to dispel the erroneous information that Hollywood has led you to believe is how the real world works and that shows up in (too) many novels.

As soon as an officer asks you a question, you do NOT get a Miranda warning. Take A.I.M. for the truth- Arrest > Interrogation > Miranda. Officers are allowed to question you at the scene, in the car, where ever because you are not under arrest. Clues and valuable information are gathered just by 'chatting' and police are not required to Mirandize you until you are officially under arrest and are being interrogated.

Another thing Hollywood gets wrong, says Guy, is that forensic evidence is not always available. Crime savvy criminals know to wear gloves a lot of the time. Add to that it takes sometimes months for evidence to be analyzed and run through various databases for 'hits' (where it matches up with other crimes or people). And if there is no DNA or fingerprints on file, there can be no comparison. (My mom wouldn't be in any database, but I would because I was fingerprinted when I applied for a teaching job. Guess I'll have to get her to do the foul deed....).

The way matches are made, he explained, is prints are taken and uploaded into the State Automated Fingerprint Identification System (AFIS) or the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System (IAFIS) which is connected to the FBI. This system has access to 70 million criminal fingerprints, and 34 million civil fingerprints (if you're a teacher, government worker, etc. and had your prints taken for security purposes, you're in. With me.). It takes around 20 minutes to compare a card with 10 fingerprints to others in the system. For a single print, it takes a bit longer, around 45 minutes, if the fingerprint quality is good. Sounds good, right? Not all police departments have access to the system. Between lack of access to technology and understaffing for the time-consuming and tedious evidence collection and analysis, most crimes aren't solved more quickly, and some not at all.

One thing that drives Guy crazy is when a show has detectives getting fingerprints off clothing or other rough surfaces. Not happening, unless your novel is a sci fi and they've developed technology in the future that can do this.

Like fingerprints, DNA is collected. There are 15 million samples-and there are 7.5 billion people. Odds are against a match unless your perp is already in the system. However, all prison inmates must surrender to DNA and fingerprint sampling, and now some states require both DNA and fingerprint samples be taken especially from suspects in violent crimes.

RIP chalk outline guy. Unless you're writing a 1920s murder mystery, he's long dead and gone.

Blood spatter: There are various types. Transfer is from the source (victim) which is moved by a handprint, foot print, etc. Passive is when it drips or runs by itself. High velocity looks like it was sprayed with a mister, medium velocity has larger drops and splatter, and arterial spurt looks like someone spurted ketchup against the wall. (Unscientific, I know, but it helps give you an idea).

If you want to determine the direction of where a blood spot originated, the formula is: Angle = SIN-1 (Width/Length). Yeah, don't ask me, it's been decades since I did that kind of math. If the spot is elongated (looks like it has a tail, kind of like a comet), the tail points in the direction of travel.

Finally, here are some terms relating to the stages of death (more than just rigor. Who knew death was so complicated?).

Pallor mortis - a paleness that presents in light-skinned or white people within 15-25 minutes after death because there is no circulation.

Algor mortis - lowering of body temperature after death.

Rigor mortis - After 3 hours, the body begins to stiffen, reaching the maximum stiffness after 12 hours. This disappears about 3 days later.

Livor mortis - when all the blood settles in the lowest part of the body, creating a purplish-red discoloration. Even if the body is moved, the discoloration remains.

Decomposition, the breaking down of the body, occurs next, followed by skeletonization.

Next week, the final part: mistakes for writers to avoid.

Char

*Above information, except for my notations, were obtained from Det. Olivieri's extensive knowledge and his handout, Scene of the Crime: How Experts Handle A Crime Scene. He lists The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry and Det. Sgt. Joseph L. Giacalone, ret., http://joegiacalone.net/cold-case-squad/ as his sources.

A Classic Problem...

I know kids don't like the classics- Romeo and Juliet, Silas Marner, A Long Day's Journey Into Night, The Crucible, etc.

Tough- they need to be taught. I'm dismayed that my son's summer reading packet required only one book and a modern one at that. I believe kids need to be exposed to many classics, so why not have 2 lists; one classic, one modern, and choose a title from both lists?

They won't like it.

Truthfully, I didn't when I was a high school freshman/sophmore/junior/senior. But I didn't like geometry either and I still had to take that. Over the years I've used literary knowledge much more than geometry...

Sometimes what we don't like is best for us. (How many kids liked asparagus, broccoli, Brussels sprouts when they were young? Yeah, maybe 2.)

Classics and modern literature are forever linked. I've read many YA and adult books that refer to classics. If kids aren't exposed to Shakespeare and Charles Dickens and Charlotte Bronte, they'll have to ask someone, who is this person? why is he/she famous?  before they can understand the context in the modern novel.

I was watching Psycho with Anthony Perkins, the old black and white version (the best). My youngest sat down to watch with me and says, "That's not scary!" Because he's grown up in a time when excessive gore is readily laid out by the media for his eyes, he's not completely 'invested' in the story with his brain. Previous generations saw Pyscho and were afraid to take a shower without locking the door. We were pulled into the story because we had to imagine the knife slicing into that poor girl, the blood circling the drain confirmation of our worst fear. Our minds were much more visceral than showing tons of fake blood and bad makeup jobs.

There is value from classics- whether it's a book, a movie, a muscle car, a tuxedo, a song. Let's not throw out the old in favor of the trendy because today's trendy is tomorrow's classic.

Char

What's in a word....?

On, out, up, in- they're all pretty much the same.

Hubs: I let the cats out.

DON'T LET THE CATS OUT, THEY EAT ALL THE CAT FOOD AT THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE!

Hubs: I let the cats UP. (they stay in basement playroom at night because they run like crazy at 2 am and wake everyone up.)

See the difference? Even the littlest words have power...  Choose your words carefully....

Char

No Man Is An Island...

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
                     John Donne, Courtesy of Poem Hunter     

"There is no 'I' in team..."
                     Michael Jordan

On Christmas Eve, I volunteered to set up and light the luminarias around our church. The effect was breathtaking, as it is every year.

Do I deserve the credit?

No, because although I volunteered for the job, my mother and two sons helped. So, thanks guys.

But so did Andre Hughes, Adriana Calderon, and Kleber Salas. Church members? No. I don't even know these people. So how do they get to claim credit and get kudos with us?

They made the white paper bags that we poured the sand and set the candles into. Their names are proudly stamped on the bottom.

And then there are those people who made the candles, packaged the sand, transported the supplies, sold them, and church people who ordered them.

One simple job, so many people deserve credit and thanks and acknowledgment.

So too with Blonde OPS.

    
By now everyone knows that Nat & I wrote it together, but it was the brainchild of our editors Peter Joseph and Kat Brzozowski, and we were brought together by our agent Natalie Lakosil. They've all been acknowledged and thanked, along with family and friends.

But the creation of this book, like the luminaria display, involves so many more people. Copyeditors, packagers, artists, publicists, bloggers, readers, booksellers, truck drivers, shippers, postal workers, typesetters, and too many more to count. I wish I knew everyone who had a hand in making this book a reality just so I could personally say thank you and list them in the acknowledgments.

Some people need a deeper acknowledgment; they deserve the dedication. Here's mine and Nat's.

When I was in seventh grade, my father, who'd worked on lunar modules that orbited and eventually landed on the moon, was out of work. As he struggled to find a job, my mom waitressed. It was a tough few years, and sometimes my parents had to borrow money from family in order to feed us. There was nothing left for trendy fashions; I had hand-me-downs or what clothes my mother made. Enter the rich kids with their overpriced designer outfits and overblown egos.

I was bullied. It made me shy, afraid to talk to people, willing to do anything to fly under the radar. But there was Mr. Cavuto, my English teacher, always with a smile, quick joke, or praise. When Jimmy (and I'm glad I can't remember his name otherwise I'd send him a letter telling him what a lowlife he was) laughed and taunted me because although my clothes were clean and pressed, they still looked poor and out of date.

Mr. Cavuto told him to shut up. And I still remember the look on Jimmy's face. Someone didn't think his jibes were funny? They were telling him to be quiet?

Mr. Cavuto didn't make a big deal of it, but Jimmy never bothered me again, and all through the time I spent there until we moved several months later, Mr. Cavuto praised my work, encouraging me to write. He even had the whole class write farewell Haikus on my last day. It still chokes me up thinking of the kindness he showed.

He deserves the dedication because I may not have continued to write or learned how to deal with criticism if it weren't for him. Thank you, Professor George Cavuto.

And then there was Mr. Grattan, high school English teacher. A sensitive, intellectual man, often bullied by snotty, 'I'm so cool but I'm really a jerk' students, he taught all the literature that seems to be the bane of students (sometimes even English-loving kids like myself): Romeo and Juliet, Silas Marner, Great Expectations, A Streetcar Named Desire. No one loves all the assigned readings, but even with the ones that I could have lived happily without having read, discussed, and written about, Mr. Grattan forced open my narrow view of what literature should be. Great literature doesn't have to be iambic pentameter, or a play, or 18th century English prose.

Literature can be anything I want it to be.

Without having been exposed to the greats and maybe not-so-greats, I might not have let my mind expand to the point where now I can say, "yeah, there's a story in that."

So thank you, Mr. George Grattan, for enlarging my vista, and I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner while you could hear it. I'm no less grateful.

I proudly, humbly, gratefully, and lovingly dedicate Blonde OPS to you.

Char

I'm Signing Her Death Warrant

If you know me well enough, you know Mariah.

We've come to a parting of the ways, and I think it's going to kill her. And her 10W40 oil will be on my hands.

Mariah is my gal pal--my 2002 Chevrolet Impala. She's darkly alluring in her midnight blue coat. She's feisty with her V-6 engine. She's sexy with her aluminum rims and rear spoiler. She's got a good handle in any situation with her traction control, power steering and ABS brakes.

We've been together from the beginning; she was made especially for me, delivered at the local dealer. When I had to fly to Florida for my father's funeral, I took her keys so no one (read: husband) could drive her while I was away.

And I've sold her.

(*eyes moisten, throat closes a little bit.)

She's a long car; it's a tight squeeze to fit her into her spot in the garage (especially with that shelf of everyone's junk taking up precious space). But on the highway, her length made the road smoother and she could glide beautifully even with her weight. Only that was part of the problem--parallel parking her when I went to book signings was a nightmare. In a parking lot, no problem, but on the street (especially since I suck at parallel parking to begin with), I'd have to drive farther down the street for an easier spot and lug my swag and stuff to the bookstore.

She's pretty good on gas for her size, but when you're doing two, three, events in a week, and half of them are out of state, she gets thirsty a lot sooner.

She's roomy--but two out of three children are grown and away at school. They rarely drive anywhere with me.

Sure, we've been in some scraps; a rude b*tch in the grocery store parking lot who was busy yakking on her cell just pushed her empty cart and it headed right for Mariah's back end.

I gave that lady what for. And then parked the cart behind her pretentious SUV.

I was chased down route 287 by two whackos. But with her V-6 (and the lack of helpful police anywhere) she had no problems doing 110 mph. Dusted those creeps.

So it's killing me to sell her. She won't understand, especially when her new owner is supposed to be an 86-year-old man. Can he see well enough? Are his reflexes quicker than the jerks on the road? Will he garage her and regularly maintain her like she's used to?  I fear that she will end up in the scrap or wrecking yard. But maybe his much younger wife will drive Mariah until it's time for some young man to buy her on the cheap and fixes her up again, as a labor of love.

Have you ever been this attached to an inanimate object? I think most characters--in real life or in novels (YA, NA, or adult) don't have these kinds of attachments anymore. Maybe it's because I grew up in a racing family (both parents raced at the local speedway), my grandmother would accompany my dad and my Uncle Ed when they raced, my brother owned a race car and worked for NASCAR, and to channel my Marisa Tomei from "My Cousin Vinny", my grandfather was a mechanic, my father was a mechanic...and now my son will be a mechanic... it's just in the family bloodline to love our cars. It's the great dream of the '50s--to own a cool car. Characters today don't seem to have  these sentiments.

Now you can argue that it's too materialistic, it's shallow. I'm thinking that we are a throw-away-and-buy-new society, where the value of ownership lasts only until the next shiny thing, and no one takes care of their property anymore.

You can say I'm anal; I take care of my house the same way; if the kids don't clean their rooms, I do (and sometimes with a big black garbage bag). I like to repaint rooms every five years, even if it's the same color. My windows get washed a minimum of twice a year, inside and out.  I take care of everything so that it will last, and always look good. That could all stem from growing up in tough times; after my father no longer worked in the space program, it was hard for him to find another long term career and he worked numerous jobs to support the family. I know what it's like to have second hand toys and clothes (and they looked it).

So it's hard for me to let her go. Although he said it was a done deal, the buyer hasn't called to make the arrangements for me to drop her off and get paid. Maybe he won't show. Then I could find her the home she deserves.

And why is her name Mariah? Not after a popstar; because like the old song goes, "They call the wind Mariah."  And she rides like the wind.

Char

I'm Waiting....

You know who I am.

But in case you're slow-witted and forgot, live in a dank hole and don't know, or had your brains eaten by a zombie, I am Hades. Ruler of the Underworld. Eldest brother to Zeus and Poseidon. Greek god. And besides being the best looking, best dressed, and best everything, I am also The Boss.

For certain individuals anyway.

Tomorrow is International Bosses Day.

That means I will expect accolades, gifts, adoration, and whatever else I can get from my minions and those whose contract is still enforceable. (You really didn't think the Sirenz got off after only two assignments, did you? No.)

So look for celebrations and praises for ME from my Sirenz Margaret and Sharisse, and my biographers Nat and Char.

I would encourage you to emulate them.

You never know when I could show up, offering you a deal. And it always helps to be on the boss'es good side....

Hades

I'm not in a position to argue with the 'Boss' man...

Char

Forgotten Characters

I read a lot and one thing I've noticed; most novels don't have family pets in them. Yes, I'm a cat owner (2 babies who spend more time with me than my children), and pets-cats, dogs, squirrels, etc., figure into almost all my works.

This is Mink, a part Persian, part Maine Coon cat we rescued from a short and brutal life as a barn cat in Upstate, New York. (AKA the "Kitten.')

This is my gal pal, Casey. She, too, is a rescue cat (ALL of my pets have been rescues, ever since I was a little girl), who is what they call a mackerel tabby- she's gray speckled like the fish with orange stripes.

(No beauty queen, but the soul of a poet and a sweetie pie.)

I love the way people interact with pets; my sons coo over them, not afraid of being less manly as they pamper, pet and praise these 'siblings.' Even the hubs, who swore he wanted nothing to do with them (grew up in a house without pets, see?) can't resist playing with the kitten or stroking Casey as she sleeps on the bed and baby talking to her. I think that loving a pet adds a dimension of compassion to a character. People who own hordes of animals and don't take care of them are a different matter. But when you take a pet into your home, feed and love it, talk to it, take it to the vet, and cry when it passes on-I think this makes you a better person. (I didn't say perfect, just better.) We share our soul with another creature that is dependent on us for the rest of their lives (grown children coming back to the nest to mooch not included), and give of ourselves.

Many successful people, i.e. Hemingway, Einstein, presidents, etc. had pets. Maybe if we allowed prisoners to take care of a rescued animal, becoming solely responsible for its care, they would become more compassionate, more giving, and break the cycle of violence. It worked for the Bird Man of Alcatraz.

So don't neglect to put pets into your story; it shows a character with a hidden depth. If they mistreat the animal, well then we know he's the villain.

Char