A funny thing happened on the way home . . .

After being held hostage in a hospital for a week, I was finally cleared to leave.  Not as easy as it sounds given the fact that I required most of my creature comforts from home during my stay.  I had everything - from several pairs of jammies to my water pic.  So per hospital policy, my box of necessities and I were wheeled to the parking lot.

As soon as my husband started the car, he turned to me and said there was something wrong with the car.  It had started the night before.  "What?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replied as he backed out of the parking space.

I rolled down the window and heard a rhythmic thump as the car moved.  “Sounds like a tire,” I said.
Darling husband said no, that he’d checked the tires.  Muffler? I guessed.
Again he dismissed me.  Which is common when it comes to anything manly.  The only problem is my husband has no man skills.  He can barely use duct tape.  But he had a plan.  He’d drop off the 8 new prescriptions, take me home, then take the car to the dealership.  Sounded good.  The car kept making that death rattle, so I thought the plan was sound.  We drove about 5 miles to the strip mall where the pharmacy is and as we drove by the ever-present homeless guy, he called out “Hey! You’ve got a flat tire!”
Darling husband parked and we both got out of the car and sure enough, the rear passenger side tire was as flat as a pancake.  “I thought you said you checked the tires,” I admonished.
“I did,” he insisted.  “But only the ones in the front.”
Who does that? I wondered as he dashed into the pharmacy to drop off the prescriptions.  So he comes out and I told him we had to take it to the tire place immediately.  I’m thinking he’s probably ruined the rim since he’d told me the noise started the day before.  And to make matters worse, we have AAA.  It wasn’t even like he had to change a tire himself.
So we drove across the street to the tire place.  Even the sales guy laughed at my husband.  He was also stunned that darling husband hadn’t ruined the rim.  Said it would be about an hour and a half, so instead of sitting in the tire place, we walked next door to Chili’s to eat and kill time.  So there I sit, wearing hospital bracelets as my accessories with some serious bed head.  And while in the hospital I’d been on a very strict diet, so the smell of spicy food was very appealing.  Note to self: lay off the Mexican when you’ve been consuming chicken broth and tea for a week.
$128.00 later, we were on our way back to the pharmacy, then finally I got to reunite with my own mattress.
The only thing that makes this story worse is it isn’t the first time its happened.  Ten years ago darling husband had ignored a service light on the car when he came to collect me from a hospital.  The engine quit at a stoplight in the heart of Baltimore and we ended up hitching a ride home with the tow truck driver.  All because he had failed to maintain the car properly.  He sees those lights on the dashboard as suggestions.  A dangerous philosophy when you don’t even know how to check a dip stick.
I have friends with handy husbands and I must admit, I get a tad jealous.  Anything more complicated than hanging a picture and I have to run to the yellow pages.  I even had to pay an electrician to change the light bulbs (fluorescents) in my kitchen.  Darling husband didn’t know how to twist them into place.  He can’t even grill.  When I say he has no man skills, I mean none, zero.
But he has other wonderful qualities that make him a keeper.  He’s the funniest person I know, which off-sets his lack of other skills.  Now, if I could only find a decent handyman . . .

Back from the dead

I'm ready to come out of hiding.  Well, I wasn't hiding so much as I was taking a long look at my career.  It just took me 2 years to do it.  Well, not really 2 years, I had a lot of interruptions.  My daughter is now a college freshman and since I married a man with children, this is the first time in my 33 year marriage that we've had an empty nest.  (And thanks to college girl, empty wallets <g>).

So the last couple of months I've been working on a deal with Grand Central (shout out to Donna Bagdasarian) and we finally got things all worked out.  At least I think we did.  That was the day my pool motor committed slow suicide, making this awful, deafening sound because the water was so low but I'm pretty sure I got it right.  But it was a Lucy Ricardo moment.  I was cradling the phone with my shoulder and went toward the clump of bushes where the pool controls are hidden.  I wasn't alone.

There on the top of the hedge was a black snake sunning himself.  Or herself, I have no idea how to determine snake gender and I'm not about to learn now.  I needed a plan B.  So I decided to just get the hose and add water, all the while praying that my pool didn't have a crack or a pipe issue.

All this comes on the heels of my house attacking me.  Last week the garage door broke.  My hubby pulled on the red emergency cord and snap - it was lying limply in his palm.  We called the installation company but it would take them 3 days to come out.  So we waited for the grounds service and asked if they would venture back inside the bushes to shut down the pool motor.  Nice guys and happy to do it, even when Snake 1 and Snake 2 slithered out from beneath the hedge.  I'd love to meet the person who determined that snakes are more afraid of me than I am of it.  What a crock. Seeing those snakes was enough to make me pee myself.

Turns out the garage door only needed a new fuse and rip cord and the pool was nothing but evaporation from the strong winds.  And I'm counting the days until I can move into condo because the only person more afraid of snakes is my darling hubby.

More on my return to writing  - including the release date for the next Finley adventure - NO RETURNS!  Finley faces the most difficult case of her career - herr mother is the prime

When you wish upon a Star . . .

And my stars are pretty big.  A few years back I went indoor skydiving with fab NYT best-selling author Leanne Banks.  It was basically the two of us jumping on top of a jet engine, bouncing around.  Too fun.  So since then, I’ve dreamed of doing the real thing.  Except I’d be that granny who falls out of her chute and lands panties first on YouTube.

I’m a DAR member and my Patriot (that’s what they’re called) is from London.  I’d love to go spent a few weeks there tracking any distant relatives.  Oh, and I might have a pint or two while I’m at it.  I actually like dark room temperature beer.

I’d love to learn to fly.  Not so interested in crashing, though.

Lastly, the one I have no control over – I’d like to write a NYT best-seller.  Is, it’s a lightning strike but hey, a girl can hope.

Setting goals

So this is it for me in 2012.  Even babes have to prep for Christmas so after this week we’ll be silent for a couple of weeks.

I’m a huge believer in coals, long and short term.  However, they have to be under my control, doable and realistic.  Saying I want to write two manuscripts this year is a good goal.  I can control it; I know my writing speed so it’s doable and realistic.  Saying I want to write a New York Times bestseller is a bad goal.  It’s based on orders and you can’t control how many copies of your book are printed.  That goes for all accolades.  Think of them as lightning strikes and not part of the norm.

Here’s a great way to incorporate goals into your world.  First, see above.  Second, write them down and place them somewhere in your line of vision.  Make long term (3-5 years) and short-term (1 year or less) goals.  Create almost a contract with yourself.  One of my goals for 2012 was to try to break into a new market by writing at least three proposals.  Since I can’t control editors, all I could do was make myself work toward what might get me in front of editors.  (Notice I didn’t say sell).  Another of my goals was to try a different (for me) genre.  Not only did I find out I loved it (Sorry Babe Amy who is kind enough to proof for me but hates gore a goo), I also found out I can carry it off.

My long-term goal is almost always the same – network more.  Unfortunately I live in the middle of  chapters so my choices are to spend an hour driving 3 hours back and forth from STAR getting in well after midnight or getting up at 5AM to dress and shower and drive 3 hours to make an FRW breakfast meeting.  Yahoo hates me so I’m pretty bad at loops, too.  But again it will go on my goals list.  Just because you didn’t make it one year doesn’t mean you can’t keep reaching.

Happy Holidays!

A quickie for Thursday

I do not like cranberry sauce, not freshly made or in a can, I do not like it Sam I am.

So my solution . . . Pineapple stuffing.  It gives that same sweet/tart but without the cranberries to yuck it up (though my sister adds cranberries to hers).

Here goes (easy as pie)

1 can crushed pineapple

8 slices of white bread cubed

1 stick of butter, softened

1 cup sugar

4 eggs beaten

Mix butter, sugar and eggs, fold in pineapple and bread cubes

Bake in a greased pan at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.

This is also great with pork chops or really any part of a pig.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Real or fake?

Crafting a character is like giving birth, only without the pain and drugs.  Well, I guess it could include drugs.  Over my 20-year career I’ve seen hundreds of version of how to get to know your character.  The one thing I’ve learned is there is no right way.  Only you can determine what and how much you need to know in order to make your characters jump off the page.

I touched on this topic at a workshop I did for Florida Romance Writers this past weekend.  My approach has changed over the years and I now use WriteWayPro© exclusively.  It’s an organizational software program that has many helpful features. Among the most precious to me is the ability to upload a photograph.  I’m a visual learner, so being able to create a character info sheet with a picture there really speaks to me.  I get pictures from soap opera sites (they have cast members from birth to death, so good pickings), off facebook, off magazine sites – you name it, I’ll harvest it.

Once I have a photo, I do my general history.  Height, weight, hair and eye color and I even give them a date of birth.  Why?  You wonder.  If you’re doing a series you may need to have your character age, so giving them a birthday keeps you from going back into an earlier book for the answer.  I’m also hung up on birth order.  The oldest child in a family is often the most responsible one.  The middle child is the peacemaker.  And the baby craves attention and is more of a free spirit.  The baby of the family is also more suborned since he/she is accustomed to getting his/her own way.

I’ll admit, I used to go through a whole series of questions but I’ve slacked off.  Shame on me.  Only about 80% of what you know about your character should come out of his/her mouth.  Instead you want to convey their personality through action.  Remember that baby in the family?  If she flies off the handle over something insignificant, you’ve shown her flaw without telling me.  Show don’t tell applies to characterization too.

So now I ask three questions I learned from NYT best-seller Leanne Banks:

What is the characters secret wish?

What is the character’s greatest fear?

What is the character’s super power?

Those three little questions will help you build conflict almost instantly.  For the sake of this blog, let’s do one for a hero in a romance novel.

Name:  John Doe            35 6”4, Black hair, Blue eyes, 195 pounds

                                           DOB 7/29/97 – has tribal tattoo on left arm

                                           Only child, parents deceased

Secret wish:  To get married and have a family

Greatest fear: Intimacy, has been hurt in the past

Super power: Eidetic (photographic) memory – see, no tights and capes, just a trait unique to him that no other character has.

So from the wish, fear and power I know I have to pair him with a woman who loves intimacy but doesn’t think she’s ready to settle down yet.  Voila – instant conflict.  All I need to do is decide why she’s gun shy and then come up with a compromise position – if not one of your characters gives up everything for the other one and that’s just a bad idea.  When I read that I think those people might stay together for a year or two before the resentment builds and they either get divorced or have some intensive therapy.  And yes, I do know they aren’t real but I do get invested when I’m reading.

Most importantly, you have to come up with a system that gives you the knowledge you need to write a well-rounded character.  Trust me, they don’t come to you as you’re writing.  If you wait for that to happen, be prepared to do a lot of drafts.

Happy writing!