2012: The Year of the Critiques

Happy Valentine's Day!

After about a year of indecision, I finally joined Sisters in Crime last month. I also joined their critique group, the Guppies, and my local chapter this past Saturday.  In my short time with them, I've learned information that will help my writing.

Part of my concern was how did SinC react to e-books? Did they embrace or eschew them? So far, all indications seem to be acceptance. Traditional publishing avenues aren't ignored, either, so there's a nice balance of information and opinions.

I'm currently on the third (fourth?) draft of my vampire Victorian paranormal m/m mystery, The Ripper's Daughter. Once I have a solid draft ready, I hope to send it to my Guppies group for critique. 2012 is going to be the year of critiquing, I see. I really want to submit work this year so I'm making a conscious effort to finish revising these stories and getting them out. (Fingers crossed...)

Other than that, I have some news I'm waiting to tell. Should be very soon so hopefully I can post it next week. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Musing About Mysteries

About a week ago, I came across some old radio episodes of Philip Marlowe. Why yes, another distraction, along with Facebook, Twitter... Kidding!

I'm totally into mysteries lately. But I'd never read the masters of the genre so I decided to remedy that. Went to the library and checked out Dashiell Hammett (Maltese Falcon), a Raymond Chandler omnibus, a Ross MacDonald omnibus, Agatha Christie (Murder on the Orient Express), and Ngaio Marsh (Light Thickens). Although it wasn't part of my library list, I happened across Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla and 12 Other Classic Tales.

I see Bouchercon will be in Cleveland this year. Now if I could just sell enough books to be able to go. :-) Killer Nashville is another con I'd like to go to this year (re: mystery cons).

Would be even better if The Ripper's Daughter had a publishing contract, too. Maybe it's not so much a paranormal mystery as paranormal suspense. But so far I haven't wanted to run over my characters with a tank carrier. And believe me, after rewrites, retooling characters' motivations & goals, and generally upending a story, I'm ready to kill off all my characters. LOL

Still writing the urban fantasies. Horror, fantasy, and mystery/suspense have always been my favorite genres. I know some people think you should only focus on one genre. I say write the stories you want to write.

Will I succeed at writing mysteries? Hell if I know. But when has that ever stopped me before?

A Tale of Two Vampires

It's official! I finished The Ripper's Daughter, my vampire Victorian paranormal mystery for National Novel Writing Month on November 20 and verified it November 25.

I wanted to write about vampires, but I also wanted my story to be different. So I decided to make the relationship between Nathan and Stephen a symbiotic one. Stephen needed Nathan to drink his blood and Nathan had someone he could feed from without endangering other people's lives. Their relationship goes much farther, however, a sexual one they need to keep hidden from society. Not only that, but also continuing the charade of Stephen, Nathan's master, playing the part of his manservant.

Inspector Lewis

What really inspired me to write this story, though, was Inspector Lewis. The show aired on Masterpiece Mystery while I was plotting my NaNo WIP. Not that the two have anything in common except I knew, after watching Inspector Lewis, I wanted Nathan to be a former Detective Inspector.

Who would I pit Nathan against? Then it came to me. Who is the most infamous murderer in Victorian history? Jack the Ripper. (Okay, there are others, but I'm going with the most well-known.) And what if Jack the Ripper weren't human? What if he were a werewolf, and only Nathan knew this? So the DI risked his life and all he had to become a vampire and stop the Ripper? But what if he failed?

I explore this throughout the story. The guilt Nathan feels at failing to catch the Ripper and the determination to stop him when he finds the Ripper has come to Louisville, Nathan's new home. Nathan now owns a saloon called The Cloak and Dagger. I wanted a place where he could get information but not resort to making him work as a police officer or as a reporter. Besides, both those jobs would require working in daylight, something Nathan can no longer do. He can go out in overcast weather but direct sunlight will cause considerable damage, even death. And if Nathan dies, so does Stephen and vice versa.

Although this is a first draft, I thought I'd share a short excerpt.Remember, this is from a draft and is not intended to be considered final.

Please enjoy!

Excerpt:

I caught Stephen biting his lower lip, a worried expression on his face. Concern? He needn’t worry. After all, he turned me, knowing a vampire’s strengths and weaknesses. He knew I wouldn’t take foolish risks.

No, it was something else. Stephen hadn’t eaten or drunk much the last couple of days and seemed a bit sluggish and redder in the face, as if stricken with high blood pressure.

Something primal stirred in me. A faint coppery smell triggered an ache in my fangs which dropped slightly.

Our eyes met, Stephen’s blue ones darkening. He rose, pulling the brocade curtains shut against the moonlight and any passersby. We couldn’t risk complacency. To do so could put our lives in danger.

He crossed the room and sat on the sofa next to me. The light from the lamp glinted on his hair, throwing shadows across his face, the bridge of his aquiline nose. But my attention was drawn to his carotid artery. I licked  my lips, desire pooling in my body, heightened by his nearness and the smell of blood. As my fangs continued to drop, my need grew and I shifted impatiently, eager to drink.

Stephen leaned his head back. I unbuttoned his shirt collar, pushing it aside to reveal pale flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Leaning in, I breathed in the scent of soap and water, a clean smell.

He made no sound as I licked the skin, readying it. I looked down to see Stephen clench his fists and I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. The gesture served two purposes, to comfort him and to anchor myself against the ecstasy of drinking his blood.

Stephen closed his eyes. My breathing quickened, my heartbeat increased as adrenaline pumped through my bloodstream. In contrast, Stephen’s breathing and heart rate slowed as his heart struggled to pump the excess blood circulating through him.

Again, I marked the spot with a gentle swipe of my tongue, tasting salt. The ache in my fangs intensified and I became heady with passion, both for his blood and his body, which needed to be satisfied in that order.

I bit, incisors pricking his skin. A thin line of blood trickled free and I lapped at it. Within seconds I fed, my mind focused on Stephen and the pleasure this act gave both of us.

For him, it was relief. For me, it became an almost orgiastic experience.

His hand tightened on my leg, fingers pressing into my kneecap as I continued to drink. At first I worried I hurt him. But he assured me the sensation was one of pleasure-pain and far more preferable to the discomfort he felt when his body became gorged with too much blood.

     

Coming Full Circle (Confessions of a Former Literary Snob)

Confession time.

Yes, I’ll admit it. I was one of those literary snobs who turned up my nose at genre (or commercial) fiction.

It didn’t start out that way. During my middle school years, I devoured mysteries, fantasies, horror, and thrillers. When I first starting writing (again, in middle school), I wrote a horror anthology called “Tales of Terror.” There were three issues, composed of short horror stories penned on notebook paper and stapled together. On the back page of every “anthology” was a place for feedback. During that time I also wrote three YA mystery/thriller novellas.

High school found me writing stories about 1920s gangsters and poetry. Encouraged by my English teachers, I enrolled in college with the intention of graduating with a degree in English.

Around that time I also had the lofty (if delusional) idea of writing literary fiction. But not just any literary fiction. Pulitzer Prize quality literary fiction. (Yeah, told you it was a delusional idea.)

I continued writing poetry and a few short stories. A writer friend tried to persuade me screenplays were the new American novel but I wasn’t as yet convinced. I think I tried my hand at writing some awful plays. I also served as editor of the literary magazine (one issue) and the college newspaper. (It’s not as impressive as it sounds.)

Now journalism occupied my time, particularly the alternative press. Another friend loaned me copies of In These Times and Sojourners. Instead of the current pop favorites, my musical tastes ran to political bands like Midnight Oil, Johnny Clegg and Savuka, Billy Bragg, XTC, Peter Gabriel, etc.

My goal was to now write Pulitzer Prize winning articles. I even planned to go to graduate school for journalism, Columbia being my first choice.

I graduated from college with a B.A. in English and a minor in creative writing. I never pursued my Masters. Nearly 13 years would pass before I started to write again. Why? Because every time I started a project, my inner critic silenced me. Not only was I not writing literary quality work, I wasn’t writing creatively at all. (I was, however, working as a freelance writer for a couple of local magazines.)

In 2003, I decided to write a novel. The catch? I didn’t allow myself to edit until the first draft was complete. And I did finish it, a 50k YA horror. The following year I participated in my first NaNoWriMo.

Since then, I’ve written one novel, three short novels and one novella. I also have three short novels in progress and several ideas for future books. Guess what? They’re all genre fiction: horror, mystery, paranormal, urban fantasy, etc. Well, you get the idea. The point is I’ve written more since I returned to my writing roots.  

Maybe I should’ve stuck with genre writing and not been a literary snob.

Lesson learned.

So You Wanna Write a Mystery

This past Saturday I attended my first Sisters in Crime meeting. I’ve been an avid mystery/crime reader since childhood, leaving my fingerprints on the pages of Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys before moving on to The Three Investigators then The Saint and The Cat Who series. Doesn’t matter if  they’re hard-boiled, police procedurals, or cozies, I love whodunits. When I found a copy of Murder Ink at my local Peddler’s Mall I was ecstatic. Every Saturday afternoon, I watch Ellery Queen match wits with Simon Brimmer. For several Sundays, my eyes were glued to PBS Mystery! particularly the Inspector Lewis and Sherlock series. To say I’m overjoyed that Sherlock is continuing is an understatement. And yes, I own the Inspector Lewis and Sherlock DVDs.

Nevertheless, despite my enthusiasm for reading murder mysteries, I’ve never written any. I have an idea for one involving an NTSB agent but so far that’s all it is, an idea. The closest I ever came to writing a crime thriller was a screenplay, Final Curtain, about a widowed homicide detective and his retrocognitive partner hunting a serial killer who dressed victims as historical figures who’d met a violent end.

Do you want to write a mystery? Perhaps this tongue-in-cheek advice from Edgar-nominated mystery writer Parnell Hall can help you get started. Warning: contains graphic violence. But of course you’d expect that in a murder mystery, right? Don’t say you weren’t warned.