The Parts of a Book

 

By Bethany Maines

 

Recently, we’ve added Harry Potter to our daughter’s bedtime story reading.  Once we’ve completed a book, we watch the movie version.  But then, of course, she wanted a wand and an owl. There’s not much I can do about the owl, but a kindly auntie did provide a wand for Christmas and a potions “class” with dry ice and tea that turns blue.  (Butterfly Pea Blossom Tea if you’re interested, but be forewarned, don’t google the Latin name if you’re at all prone to laughing at dirty jokes.)  But now, she wants the fancy potions bottles.  So after some quick youtubing around and going Dr. Frankenstein on a recycling bin test subject, I’m prepared to have an afternoon of magic potion bottle making. 

None of which has anything to do with writing, except that plotting out how to turn something random into magic is pretty a good definition of what it a writer does.  There was even the “oh shit” part where I was pretty sure I screwed it up and it was going to be a disaster.  I believe that every book I’ve ever written has featured that part. 

In fact, there are many parts to writing a book that don’t get discussed in English classes.  For instance, the “Oh Shit” part is sometimes followed by the Drinking part. Which is often then followed by either the Dawn of Inspiration or the Damned Recycling Bin of I Hate You.  And my next paranormal romance featured the three week long Hiatus of Indecision.  My personal favorite part is the Shining Hope of a New Project.  Sadly, it’s frequently followed by the Hopeless Disillusionment phase.  But if you’re lucky you can make it through the Weary Slog to the End part and end up with a book full of characters that you love and a feeling of accomplishment that the story got told. 

If you’re interested in seeing how the Hiatus of Indecision resulted in a story about vampires that don’t glitter and a shifter wolf who got a little more than he bargained for on his way to rob a bank, you can check it out below.

MAVERICK: Maverick Lacasse, shifter wolf, bank robber and rebel didn’t mean to take Deya Jasper with him on his way out of Littleton Texas, but fate had other plans. But as the two flee for California, vampires dog their every step, and both Deya and Maverick find themselves questioning if the unexpected bond they feel can withstand the dangers they face.

PREORDER NOW

Maverick takes place in the Supernatural world of the 3 Colors Trilogy, but is a stand-alone novel.

**

Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, The Deveraux Legacy Series, and numerous novellas and short stories. When she's not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel. You can also catch up with her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and BookBub.

 

So You Want to Write a Book

By Sparkle Abbey

Part 1: Where to Start

All of the wonderful authors in this group have written books. Some have written many books, but we all started somewhere. 

Is there a book in you? If you believe there is, you’re not alone. 

There’s a statistic floating around the internet from a USA Today survey that took place almost twenty years ago that says 81% of Americans feel they have a book in them. We can only assume that percentage is closer to 90% now with many people taking stock of their life goals. Maybe more than 90%.

The first question is: Just because you want to write a book, should you? And the answer is: Maybe.

Writing definitely stretches your creativity and enhances your life. It also can impact the lives of other people. Which is a great reason to write that book!

However, here’s the reality — while anyone can write a book, not everyone will. Why is that? Mostly it’s because writing is hard. And writing, well, is even harder. In the words of Dorothy Parker, “I hate writing, but I love having written.” 

But though it is hard to write well, the truth is that writing is like a muscle. The more you exercise, the stronger you become. The more you write, the more you learn and the stronger your writing becomes. For many, setting aside the time to do that work is the hardest part.

For all of you who have said you’d like to write a book, but don’t really know where to start, we want to help you get moving. No more just thinking about it, we want to help you take action. In the next few months, we’re going to talk about the steps you need to take to write a book. So, let’s get started! 

You’re ready to put in the work.  Where do you begin?

Well, first you need to have something to say. Are you passionate about a story idea that you’d love to read, but no one has written? Do you have a message or belief you’d like to share with others? What idea is constantly on your mind? What is your story worth telling?

Here’s your homework. Pull out a notebook and jot down ideas. Right now, all ideas are good ideas. Don’t overthink it. While you’re recording your thoughts also think about what type of

book you’re going to write. Fiction, non-fiction, self-help, memoir, cookbook. 

If you’d like, please feel free to share in the comments what you might want to write a book about. And if you have questions, feel free to ask. 

Next month we’ll talk about what happens once you’ve settled on your idea!

Sparkle Abbey's latest story (written in first person) is a short but fun one. If you've not yet
checked out PROJECT DOGWAY, this is a great time to do that. 

Sparkle Abbey is actually two people, Mary Lee Ashford and Anita Carter, who write the national best-selling Pampered Pets cozy mystery series. They are friends as well as neighbors so they often get together and plot ways to commit murder. (But don't tell the other neighbors.) 

They love to hear from readers and can be found on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, their favorite social media sites. Also, if you want to make sure you get updates, sign up for their newsletter via the SparkleAbbey.com website

Just Joys — T.K. Thorne

 

 Writer, humanist,
          dog-mom, horse servant and cat-slave,
       Lover of solitude
          and the company of good friends,
        new places, new ideas
           and old wisdom.

 

 

 

The whirling weeks have left me vaguely unsettled, looking for what I have "accomplished." I am used to measuring that in terms of word count, and I don't have many of those. Rather than wallow in guilt, perhaps word count is the wrong measurement. I decided to look back and ask, "What happened?" And specifically, "Where did I find joy?"

While I listened to the talented Lia Frederick bring my characters to life in an audio book version of House of Rose* (the first in a trilogy about a police officer who discovers she’s a witch), I pulled the grass/clover/weeds out of the moss on the brick walkway. You might call this gardening. I call it a Zen exercise.  

[* Contact me at TK@tkthorne.com to get a promo code for a free audiobook!]

During the early stress-filled days of the Pandemic, weeding the moss calmed me. It requires concentration (if you pull wantonly, the moss will pull up too; if you are lazy, other plants will take over.) One of the encroachers was a tiny flower with a deep violet base and translucent blue-white petals, perhaps large enough for an ant’s umbrella—a Japanese Mazus. I left it in the moss.

 

Two + decades ago, I worked in the Birmingham Police Department with two dear friends, Becky and Juanita. Becky recently had a hip replacement, and Juanita stepped up to be a full-time care-taker. (A lesson about the meaning of Love!) We visit regularly, and our tales ensure a lot of laughter, the good kind that runs deep as a river between us. Becky’s husband died not that long ago, and she asked me for a painting based on a photo he had taken on a special day. The photo is beautiful, a solitary duck and crimson reflections in the water of (unseen) day lillies on the bank above. Here my first stab at it:

The Left Coast Crime conference in Albuquerque, NM, was a mixture of delight in being with people and anxiety at the crowd after the last two years of isolating and masking.  The highlight was being with my friends, Vikki and Kevin who were experiencing a writing conference for the first time. Also loved meeting fellow Stiletto Gang members, Donnell Ann Bell and Dru Ann Love.  Didn’t get to talk much with Dru Ann (who was always surrounded by admirers!☺), but I sat at Donnell’s table at the banquet, and she kindly offered a ride to the airport, so we got to chat a bit, enough to know what a kind, generous person she is and hope our friendship grows.  

 

Also enjoyed extended conversations about writing and law enforcement stuff  with fellow panelists and police crime writers—James L’Etoile, Frank Zafiro, Dana King (and his wife, Corky), and Colin Conway. The best part of conferences is the people!
 

 

 

 

Brushed tangles from Foxy’s tail. Tomorrow it will be tangled again, but today it’s a silk flag in the wind, and she is prissy, knowing how beautiful she is (because I tell her constantly). She was a racehorse, but during the pandemic (or perhaps because her hooves don’t grow well) she was sold at auction with a future as dog food in Mexico if no one rescued her. She is such a baby, wanting constant petting and treats.

 
Janice is almost my age (i.e., an "elder"). We met this winter at a martial arts clinic (yes, really). She rode with her sensei (teacher) from Wyoming to Alabama! Fourteen hundred miles separate us, yet we chatted via email about tying up her gutter that fell in the Laramie wind to the porch with a bungee cord, and I told her about a piece of my day. The thread of a new friendship weaving across those miles lightened my heart.  

 

Our old dog, Glenny, walked all the way to the barn with me today. Usually, he goes to the end of the yard and then abandons me, heading back to the house. This time I had to wait while he stopped often to read the “newspaper” of smells along the drive, a lesson in patience, but I was happy with his quiet company.
 

This is not Glenny in quiet-company mode. This is it's-time-to-cook-dinner mode.

 
Colors in the water of Becky's painting are giving me fits. Do I still like it?  Yes . . . no.  Frustrating. Trying to push through the fear of an ugly mess, giving the paper the paint and waiting to see what it does with it.
 
Took some mint to my sister (so grateful she lives nearby) and helped her move hosta plants she had grown for years to her new house and decide where to put them, as well as an ornate wrought iron gate she bought at a yard sale. (She is a yard-sale queen!) She helped me load two trellis plant stands (that she would have sold, but gave to me), into the truck. I put them in the back yard in front of the ugly metal poles of the clothesline. Any thoughts what I should grow on them?  Clematis, maybe? Only partial sun back there.
 
More paint on the duck. Hoping Becky will like it. Hoping I will like it. Layers defining, softening, brightening. It will never look like the photo but that’s okay has long as it evokes the wonder of the light, the quiet dignity of the duck rippling through still water, but I don’t know if it’s working or not.  Really struggling with making this right.

 
I was up at midnight the night before taking this to Becky because it was still not right, but in the end, I went to bed feeling it was good, or as good as I could do. 

 

She cried when she saw it.  

 

Her happiness made me very happy.

 
Writing this woke me to the small joys that happen every day. Looking for "accomplishments," I miss their significant. What a gift life is.  

 

 

T.K.Thorne is a retired police captain who writes books, which, like this blog, go wherever her curiosity and imagination take her.  More at TKThorne.com

How to Cook Dinner and Start a Book--T. K. Thorne

 

Writer, humanist,
          dog-mom, horse servant and cat-slave,
       Lover of solitude
          and the company of good friends,
        new places, new ideas
           and old wisdom.

 

 

My husband recently had shoulder surgery for a torn rotator cuff.  He is the chef in the house; I, the consumer. In fact, I’m not normally even allowed in the kitchen (a survival thing, so I don’t burn down the house or poison him). But he would be out of action for a while, so I . . . panicked.

My anxiety centered not around the actual cooking, but  coming up with something to fix for dinner for several weeks. I think that can correlate to worrying about writing a book. The task seems enormous, requiring a large amount of creative energy.  Where do you start?  How do you make all those decisions?  I needed a plan for at least a week with a list of ingredients and grocery shopping (which husband has been doing since 2020).

I freaked out and employed my best strategy, finely honed over the years—Procrastination.

People who would like to write a book, but are overwhelmed with the idea sometimes ask me  —“Where/how do you start?”

My honest reply is “with the first word.”  

I have started a book based on an image, a phrase that popped into my mind, a vague sense of who my character is, a statement from a character, or a random idea. Sometimes, I know where I want to end up, especially if it is already a story, like the biblical tales that loosely formed the basis for Noah’s Wife or Angels at the Gate (Lot’s wife). With the nonfiction book, Last Chance for Justice (about the 1963 16th Street Church bombing case), I knew I would end up with the trials and convictions of the Ku Klux Klan members who planted the bomb.  

It is very handy to know where you will end up (like having meals in mind when grocery shopping.) But even if I do, I have no idea how to get there. I need to create and feel out the characters, make sure they are interesting enough to intrigue me and make me want to live with them for the many months or years we will be working together. I say working together, because it is a partnership. Once a character is conceived, it’s my job to figure out what to throw at her and her job to react as appropriate to who she is.

I’m sure many other authors feel this way, as if their characters are alive in some intangible but real way. At some point, I daydream as far ahead as I can and work toward that, but sometimes everything comes to a halt and I don’t have a clue what’s next.  

At that point, I pull out my well-honed strategy and go clean the kitchen, read a book, or talk to a friend.  Eventually, my character subtilely tickles my fancy, politely knocks on the door of my mind, or hits me over the head with an idea and I a back to it.

The End

Postscript: My fears were ill-founded. Husband knew what was in the freezer and what he wanted, so he just ordered dinner menu and then stood over me, “guiding” every step.  Piece of cake. 

T.K.Thorne is a retired police captain who writes Books, which, like this blog, go wherever her curiosity and imagination take her.  More at TKThorne.com

A Little Red

 by Bethany Maines

Tomorrow is release day for A Little Red, book 1 of my newest series - The 3 Colors Trilogy.  I'm trying several new things with this series. While I've written fantasy before, I've never tried my hand at paranormal romance.  I'm also using a quick release strategy and putting out the entire trilogy within 3 months so that everyone can binge on the completed series like Netflix.  And I'm using a low release week price (¢.99!!). With the new genre and the non-traditional sales strategies I have to admit that I'm nervous for tomorrow.

Those nerves have been a bit mitigated by the early reviews.  Whether or not the series is a sales success remains to be seen, but at least the Advance Readers are thoroughly enjoying the story. 

"This fantastic page-turner is a paranormal romance that sizzled, and it excited and riveted me. The beautiful plot, unique storyline, stylish writing, and careful development of the story and characters locked me in for the entire ride."
– Readers’ Favorite 

The series is a fun, angsty romance trilogy with a trio of siblings as they meet and fall in love with shifter wolves. There are bad guy warlocks, good girl witches, and a few more magical beings roaming around because if I'm going paranormal I'm not stopping with wolves. The fun part about writing this series was trying to establish how each creature and species would interact with our modern world. Of course it also meant debating the proper system of capitalization of supernatural creatures and whether or not wolves liked blueberries.  Although, on the blueberries, I'm completely backed up by science - they do. A Little Red is, of course,  inspired by Little Red Riding Hood and even includes a grandma (don't worry, she lives).  Bringing Little Red and her wolf together was enormously fun, and I'm happy to report that this fairy tale comes complete with a Happily Ever After.  I really enjoyed writing these tales of love, magic, and good vs. evil and I hope readers will enjoy taking the journey with me.  Here's a quick little blurb, to find out more, try the links below.

A Little Red: Scarlet Lucas went out on Halloween dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, but she never expected her boss, the mysterious and ferociously attractive Liam Grayson to turn out to be the Wolf. But when Liam is the victim of a vicious attack that leaves him trapped in wolf form, Scarlet must face down not only warlocks, but Liam’s own pack in order to save him.

LEARN MORE ABOUT THE SERIES:  https://amzn.to/3DZQHbf

BUY A LITTLE RED:  https://amzn.to/3BFrh0t

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER: https://bethanymaines.com/supernaturals-chapter-1/

**

Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of the Carrie Mae Mysteries, San Juan Islands Mysteries, Shark Santoyo Crime Series, and numerous short stories. When she's not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some serious butt with her black belt in karate, she can be found chasing her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel. You can also catch up with her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and BookBub.

A Brave Thing—by T.K. Thorne

   

      

  

Writer, humanist,
          dog-mom, horse servant and cat-slave,

    Lover of solitude
          and the company of good friends,
        new places, new ideas,
           and old wisdom.

 

 

 

 

My daughter recently posted this on Facebook.  

Dolly, I did a brave thing. During the pandemic, I started painting. That wasn't brave, because nobody was looking over my shoulder pointing out my mistakes (the paintings did that!)  But I really wanted to contribute something to the Pulpwood Queen Book Club's silent auction for the Pat Conroy Literary Center. So here's the brave thing—I did a "Low Country" painting and gave it to the silent auction.

It started out very ugly. (A good lesson for the drafts of our novels.) I was thinking that I might have to just throw it away and start over, but I decided I was having fun and just kept going. (Another lesson for writing.)

When I paint, I am often drawn to go "visit" the project while passing the studio (library/book storage/printer/extra-closet room).  As a painting dries, the colors lighten and the perspective changes. One night, I made my normal stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Drawn to the studio on the way back to bed, I looked at the painting in the dim light of the hall nightlight and insanely decided the color of the water wasn't right. 

You have to understand, I am fortunate to find my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night (and the morning, for that matter.) Not bothering to sit, get my glasses, or turn on decent light, I grabbed a brush and started "fixing" it. 

The next morning, I braced myself to look at what I had done, certain it would be a disaster.

Amazingly, it looked okay.

When the painting was finished, I was happy with it. Then I panicked, realizing to meet the deadline, I  had to send a photo in to the auction. (A familiar panic, as it happens with every manuscript when I hit "send" to the editor.) I stalled as long as I could and then, with great trepidation I sent it. 

It was received kindly. But how else would polite people react? We praise a child's art efforts no matter how primitive and stick it proudly to the refrigerator. The few friends, sister, amd hubby with whom I had shared my attempts had been encouraging. But this was different. People who don't know me were going to be looking at this, and I didn't think they would want to pay to stick it on their refrigerator.

I berated myself:  You're a writer, not a painter.  What were you thinking?

The auction was for a good cause and was open to the public, so I did my duty and posted it on Facebook with an invitation to the auction. I told myself the worst thing that could happen was that no one would bid on it and no harm would be done. I'd just go back in the closet as an artist and continue painting just because I loved doing it.

The response on Facebook was immediate: 

To say I was blown away by the warm and excited comments is an understatement. In spite of the fact that I am a Writer (took a long time and several books published to own that word), it slowly bloomed in me that perhaps I could be an Artist too. Tears repeatedly came to my eyes that so many people thought what I had created was beautiful. Some of them were "real" artists. At that point, it really would not have mattered if no one bid on it.

However, they did. In fact, there was a bidding war! The executive director of the Center said he "thought there was going to be a bloodbath over it." It received the highest bid of any item (and there were great things there).

When you finish a book, there is a certain sadness, a letting go, a goodby to the characters you have lived with for months, sometimes years. Tomorrow, I will put my little painting in a box and send it away to a stranger who lives on the other side of the country. I am happy/sad. 

I wonder if all joy has an element of sadness. The joy of seeing a child grow up and go off into the world mixes with the sadness of losing something precious. The joy of accomplishing a goal mixes with the sadness of having accomplished it. The joy and sadness of creating . . . and finishing. 

Many wise people have said this better: It is not the destination that brings us happiness, but the journey. 

Speaking of which, I think I will finish this blog and go start another painting . . . .

"Low Country"

T.K.Thorne is a retired police captain who writes Books, which, like this blog, go wherever her curiosity and imagination take her.  More at TKThorne.com.

From Stage to Page with Barbara Kyle

I’m often asked if my previous career as an actor helped my writing.

 

Yes, it certainly did.

 

Acting gave me a deep appreciation of strong story structure, because it’s hard to act in a script that has weaknesses like unfocused conflict or unmotivated turning points or a feeble climax. That stayed with me in writing my eleven novels.

Photo: With crew members (me in 19th-century bonnet) on the set of the TV series "The Campbells"

And, of course, it helped me in crafting a novel’s dialogue. I often advise emerging writers to develop an “actor’s ear” by listening carefully to how people talk. For a writer, eavesdropping is good!

 

Parallel Arts

 

There are also parallels between rehearsing a play and writing a novel. An acting company often gets just four weeks’ rehearsal. That’s not much time to get a play up "on the boards,” so each week has definite goals. 

Photo: Me (standing) and Dawn Wells ("Marianne" of "Gilligan's Island" TV series ) in the play "Vanities."

 

The first week is spent just on "blocking," working out which characters move where and when. The next couple of weeks are dedicated to detailed scene development, working on individual scenes and delving for motivation and pacing. Not until the final week does the cast do run-throughs of the whole play, followed by technical rehearsals (sound cues and light cues) and finally the full, dress rehearsal.

 

If, instead, the company plunged from day one into running through the whole play over and over with full cast and tech effects, the result would be weeks of chaos, and the final product a mess. The rehearsal process has to be done in manageable segments.

 

So it is with writing a novel. No writer would be so foolish as to expect “perfection” in a first draft. It takes several, and each draft has a function: from the creation of the raw plot, to drafts that deepen characters’ relationships, enrich pivotal scenes, and hone dialogue, to the final draft for polishing.

 

Coming Full Circle

 

Speaking of the acting/writing connection, here’s a bit of sweet serendipity. Not long ago I got a note from a writer who told me he was at work on his first novel and subscribed to my News for Writers emails.

 

He said that after enjoying my writing advice emails for many months, it suddenly struck him that he knew me from years ago: that the author Barbara Kyle was the actor Barbara Kyle he’d worked with when I appeared in several episodes of the TV series The Littlest Hobo. 

 

Imagine my delight when I read the signature: the note was from Christopher Dew who'd created and produced that very successful TV series.

 

I’ve so enjoyed reconnecting with Christopher. His debut novel, Ulysses-Comin' Home, has just been published. Here is its beautiful cover.

 

__________________________________________________________________________

 Barbara Kyle is the author of the bestselling Thornleigh Saga series of historical novels and of acclaimed thrillers. Her latest novel of suspense is The Man from Spirit Creek. Over half a million copies of her books have been sold. Barbara has taught hundreds of writers in her online masterclasses and many have become award-winning authors. Visit Barbara at https://www.barbarakyle.com/  

 

 

An Exercise in Motivation

An Exercise in Motivation by Debra H. Goldstein

People who exercise have always fascinated me. One of my friends thinks she’s in heaven if she gets two long walks in during a day; another one can’t survive without at least four yoga classes a week; one installed a dance bar and mirror in her home because ballet moves make her happy; and, then there’s the one who doesn’t feel satisfied unless he does an equipment circuit followed by at least a mile of laps in the pool. Although I like these people, I don’t understand them.

Exercise does not send little happy messages to my brain. It doesn’t make my aches and pains of aging go away. Rather, it usually increases them - like the time I raised my arm over my head and tore my rotator cuff. Despite various promises to myself that I will exercise, I usually can find an excuse to avoid it.

The pandemic proved to be a great excuse. After all, we were told to stay out of crowded places where people touched everything. That took care of the gym. We were told to wear masks. A bathing cap is one thing, but the thought of breathing through a soggy mask in the pool was too gross to even try. Rain and cold weather precluded outdoor walking (at least for me – you should have seen my diehard neighbor in her Northern long winter coat, earmuffs, and gloves breaking a sweat). But, I knew I had to make an effort.

So, after much TV watching of people sitting on a couch and peddling what looked like an elliptical that lost its top, I ordered one. It is cute and neither it nor the pad to keep it from sliding on the floor take up much room in my office. To motivate myself, I said I could watch a show with talking heads (and the time in the corner of the screen) only if I was peddling. It worked until the night I was too tired to do anything except watch from the comfort of my oversized large chair.

Eventually (several days later), I forced myself to go back to my routine. Things seemed to be going reasonably well with my modified exercise program (it wasn’t daily because, as I told myself, my body needed to only be stressed alternate days), until disaster struck. I went to move my Cubii Jr and somehow I picked up the slip pad, the telephone rang, I dropped the pad, and when I came back, I discovered the pad had dropped draping the machine like a shroud. I haven’t had the heart to move it.

There are times that my motivation to write is like my desire to exercise – shrouded. All the carrots I dangle in front of myself – I have a good idea, it’s nice to see a piece accepted, this is why you left your day job, so you really should put some effort into it, are meaningless. The adage of just putting my bottom in my chair and writing only works as far as where I place my derriere.

I tell myself that not writing, like not exercising, is bad for me. My mind counters that by noting I’m still alive, so not exercising hasn’t compromised me too much. But then, I realize it has. I weigh more and lack the stamina for going up hills or walking long distances that I had a few years ago. I understand that if I don’t start moving, there won’t be as many options for me to move in the future. It’s the same with my writing. If I don’t do it, the momentum I’ve started building will die and the ideas will shrivel in my brain. Not a pleasant thought.

It’s time to start writing and then to uncover my Cubii Jr. What about you? What writing or reading goal is it time for you to uncover (and how do you feel about exercise?)?

Plotting or Plodding, or Both?

by Paula Gail Benson

About a month ago, I began noodling with an idea for a novel. I started writing in a notebook, with a cover that had the phrase: “Wherever life takes you--trust your journey.” Following that advice, I started generally with entries about what I would like to write. I had a strong idea for a protagonist and gradually figured out the people who surrounded her.

On the fourth entry, I heard my protagonist’s first words: “I am a relic.” And then, her best friend’s response.

I continued on the journey and finally had a chronology for the opening scenes of the novel, which I sketched out in another notebook, then began examining the timeline more closely in the notebook containing all the other entries.

Finally, I managed to name the central characters. While I still hadn’t written out the opening scenes, I found myself developing one where the protagonist is talking with her best friend about a choice she made and action she took. The best friend disagrees with her decision and is worried about how it will play out.

As the two characters talk, the scene becomes lengthy. It provides a perspective about the relationship between the two friends. Because they indulge in mojitos, the protagonist stays over at her friend’s house. She’s roused once in the middle of the night and can’t figure out why.

The next day, the protagonist and her friend are called to come to the friend’s workplace, where a homicide victim has been found. The victim is connected to the action the protagonist took and her friend found problematic. After giving statements to the police, the protagonist and her friend begin to investigate how the victim might have been killed.

I’ve progressed through several scenes without going back to write the beginning. The other day I made some discoveries about the characters that I wasn’t expecting.

As I contemplated what I’d learned, I wrote: Amazing where the writing journey takes you. I had been wondering how the scenes with such long conversations would evolve and was surprised by what I discovered. Sometimes, when you’re wondering if the winding road is worth traveling, you find the trip astonishing. All it required was to keep plodding forward with a general goal in mind, flexible enough so any unexpected shift didn’t bump you from the trail.

Abigail Drake

When I wrote “plodding,” I wondered if that was the synonym or antonym for “plotting.” I decided both plotters (who plan out their stories before writing them) and pantsers (who observe the emerging plan as they write their stories) depend upon plodding, as in moving forward. I think what worried me at first was the idea that plodding is often associated with the uninteresting, the pedestrian. But, I think it’s more important to think of those gently clomping horses’ hooves progressing methodically toward a target.

I remain concerned that my scenes are more talk than action, but I know I can fix that. Maybe for now, I just need to hear my characters tell me what they know.

Also, I’ve just purchased and started reading Abigail Drake’s The Reformed Panster’s Guide to Plotting. Abigail, author of seventeen novels, presenter of writing workshops, and facilitator for Ramona DeFelice Long’s continuing Sprint Club on Facebook, wrote this book after being asked to deliver a seminar on the topic in West Virginia. Released October 7, 2021, and 86 pages in length, it is an excellent discussion about how to plan a work of fiction, chapter-by-chapter. At the end, an appendix outlines the overall process. Drake’s book works for building a novel as well as for analyzing how to revise a novel.

I have to admit, it’s great to “plod” forward with a terrifically supportive guidebook, which describes Drake’s book. I recommend that you try both.