A great meal shared or enjoyed in solitary reverie creates an enduring memory. I pretty much ate my way through the San Francisco Bay area while I was there attending Bouchercon 2010. And what a place to indulge.
Soundtrack: KFOG
A trip to San Francisco is not complete for Charlie and me without a visit to Tadich Grill. Established in 1849, it's San Francisco's oldest restaurant. We like to sit at the long wooden bar, leaning against the wall behind it with a drink while waiting for seats to open. Seats eventually do appear and so does a white-aproned waiter who sets down sliced bread that has a thick dark brown crust that's nearly burnt. Completely addictive. I ordered cioppino. I always order cioppino. I must have had cioppino 20 of the 30 or so times I've been to the Tadich. I even make it at home as I have the Tadich Grill book that includes the recipe. Charlie had littleneck clams steamed in a buttery broth which he sopped up with that bread. The waiter brought us paper bibs. I dig paper bibs.
Also waiting for a seat at the bar was an older man in a well-tailored business suit. He sat beside us, didn't look at the menu, and ordered glass of cabernet and a slab of rice pudding that came with a little pitcher of bourbon sauce. He poured the sauce around the pudding and ate slowly, with focus and pleasure. Then he paid and left. Clearly his Tadich tradition.
The Random House party was held at Water Bar in their upstairs room where a patio overlooks the Bay Bridge, spectacularly lit at sunset. I was a fan girl, chit chatting with Lee Child, Laurie King, and Karin Slaughter. A friend and I blissfully polished off most of a platter of ahi tuna tartar served in porcelain spoons while raw fish-averse buddies wrinkled their noses.
One afternoon, I explored the Ferry Building near the conference hotel, my shopping bag in hand with a goal of buying goodies for our family dinner as later I was heading on BART to the East Bay to spend time with my in-laws.
The first thing I bought was a Mo's Milk Chocolate Bacon Bar. 'Nuff said.
I loaded my bag with sheep's milk feta from Cowgirl Creamery, a small bag of the crispiest, most delectable chocolate chip cookies from Miette, and a baguette, cinnamon rolls, and a round of walnut/cranberry bread from Acme Bread Company. Back at the hotel bar, friends said the baguette wouldn't survive my trip to the East Bay intact. They were right. By the time I disembarked, the crusty end was toast (bad pun... couldn't resist!).
On Sunday in the East Bay, we went to a farmer's market to shop for our family dinner that night. We bought lots of wonderful produce for a big pot of stew, but the star was grass-fed local beef from Alhambra Valley Beef. I've eaten grass-fed beef before and to me it tasted like, well, grass. This beef was so flavorful. Words that come to mind are fresh and light.
While browning the beef, I recalled lessons learned from Julia Child. "Don't be afraid of the fire" (get that pan and oil hot) and "don't crowd the beef as you'll steam it and not brown it." (Add Julia's trilling voice). Ah, Julia. How can there be people who don't know who you are? (Read to the middle of my Big Sur post). My farmer's market stew was a success.
We had lunch with family and friends at The Dead Fish in the bayside city of Crockett. It's a charming restaurant with a funny name, hilarious menu, and great food. It was a rainy day. We sat by a window overlooking the Carquinez Straits (gotta love the name). I had crab cakes--crisp panko breadcrumbs on the outside and succulent inside.
The next day, we made PB & J sandwiches for the drive home. Thanks for the delicious memories, S.F.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Coast, Conference, and Cuisine-- Bouchercon Part 2: Conference
Bouchercon 2010 in San Francisco was already two weeks ago? Got to get this post up. This is the "conference" part of my three-part Bcon experience. Part 1 is: The Coast--Big Sur. The third and final part (coming soon) is Cuisine. You can't go to the Bay Area and not give props to the food.
So here are my conference observations, in no particular order:
Food is always at the top of my agenda any time I travel to the Bay Area. Next, I blog about the third part of the journey: Cuisine.
So here are my conference observations, in no particular order:
- Bcon is like a giant cocktail party. Make like a hummingbird--dive in, suck the nectar, move on.
- It was terrific. Well-organized, great panels and fun events.
- The best part was seeing friends, of course. Too many to mention!
- I saw a lot people I know only enough to say hi to, but I'd really like to sit down and have a conversation with these folks some day.
- Priceless as Daniel Woodrell drolly explained in his slow drawl that there are some places in the U.S. where you can still buy a house for fifteen thousand (speaking of his Missouri Ozarks). "The foundation's maybe slipped or the roof might slope a little. Most of the meth labs have moved out of my neighborhood, except for the house next door."
- My panel rocked! It was "Crossfire: Putting Your Protagonist in Jeopardy" with me, Lori Armstong, Karen Olson, James Rollins, James Thane, and moderated by Randal Brandt. SRO and we had a lot of laughs.
- I can't wear high heels as long as I used to at cocktail parties.
- I love wearing high heels.
- Lee Child's remarks about researching places for his books were funny and revelatory. He set a book in Georgia. Instead of traveling there, he rented "My Cousin Vinny" to get an idea about Georgia, even though the movie was set in Alabama. "Close enough."
- I need some of Lee Child's guts.
- Loved seeing writers I know from crime writers' organizations and other conferences who were then unpublished and are now sitting at the signing table with me. Yay!
- Lots of cat talk in author bios. Made me think, "Whoa, those cat people are crazy into their cats." Then, "Yikes, that's me!"
- If someone points a camera at you, especially if you're sitting behind a table, straighten up.
- Smile!
- Before we left, driving from SoCal, I grabbed my husband's vintage red and navy Madras plaid jacket from the closet. Wore it Saturday, sleeves rolled up over skinny jeans with a Kangol felt hat, navy blue with rolled brim. Retro fun. Hey, it's Frisco.
- Loved the "Me too!" moments with other authors that make me feel that I'm not alone out there. An author told me he likes media escorts and staying with family when on tour except for the endless talking. "I just get tired of talking." Me too! Or the author who revealed he always wanted to be included with the group, chosen for the team, one of the popular kids. Hey! Me too!
- Missed several panels because of stopping to chat with friends in the hallways and the bar.
- LOL hearing the banter between Val McDermid and Paul Levine talking about writing a sequel to Treasure Island. "John Paul Silver--The Return."
- The badges listed name and state. No city. Just state. There were many Californians. I thought it was humorous to ignore California's geographic chauvinism and throw us into one pot. Some Californians couldn't bear it and hand wrote their city.
- There's always talk of splitting up California. Some years ago, the L.A. Times asked for suggested names for the new states. Someone suggested these names for the three states of Northern, Central, and Southern California: Super Ego, Ego, and Id. This has nothing to do with Bouchercon. I just think it's funny.
- My first Bouchercon was in 1991 in Pasadena,CA. I'd just sold my first books to Simon and Schuster. I met my editor, Dana Isaacson there. Dana and I had a lot of fun then and we're still having fun. If this was your first Bouchercon, hope you took away something magical.
Food is always at the top of my agenda any time I travel to the Bay Area. Next, I blog about the third part of the journey: Cuisine.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Coast, Conference, and Cuisine-- Bouchercon Part 1: The Coast and Big Sur
We drove from SoCal to Bouchercon 2010 in San Fransciso, which means that we seriously overpacked. Okay, I seriously overpacked.
Husband Charlie and I decided we'd break up the drive and spend a night in Big Sur. It had been a couple of years since we'd cruised Highway One. When the weather is fine, driving that stretch of coast from Morro Bay to Carmel is transformative. It makes me want to write a love song to California. I hummed some instead. Yeah Cali, you're broke, you've got a lot of problems, but this native daughter loves U and your golden self.
We almost had the road to ourselves. A light shifting fog moved through the air, making mirages of ocean and foothills that would suddenly appear out of the mist only to be just as quickly erased. White fog ran down canyons like streams from Heaven. Quicksilver ocean melted into dove-feathered fog. It was mystical.
Soundtrack into Big Sur: Jazz Round Midnight: Chanteuses and selections from Beethoven.
Big Sur is like a hippie Fantasy Island--a different place and era cut off from the rest of the world. It's not easy to get to. There's sporadic cell phone service. The physical beauty is imposing and makes everything else seem trivial. The French, German, Italian, and British visitors outnumbered the Yanks, adding to my feeling of being in a strange land. My cell phone displayed a scary red emblem instead of the signal strength bars. Took me a little time to ignore that silent scream. Freedom from the CrackBerry.
I awakened at some point during the night. It was strangely dark. Black dark. No display on the nightstand digital clock. No lights from outside. The power was off. I wondered if the rest of the world had disappeared like in one of those early 1960s horror movies inspired by A-Bomb paranoia in which the people seem to have evaporated, leaving their cars with full tanks of gas and the keys in the ignition. What if the world outside Big Sur was gone? Deciding there was nothing I could do about it, I rolled over and went back to sleep. In the morning, the digital clock was flashing the wrong time. The world had not disappeared.
 |
| Fog hiding the ocean. Looking south from the deck of the Nepenthe. |
We almost had the road to ourselves. A light shifting fog moved through the air, making mirages of ocean and foothills that would suddenly appear out of the mist only to be just as quickly erased. White fog ran down canyons like streams from Heaven. Quicksilver ocean melted into dove-feathered fog. It was mystical.
Soundtrack into Big Sur: Jazz Round Midnight: Chanteuses and selections from Beethoven.
 |
| I'm a sucker for a pretty photo of a sunset. From the Nepenthe. |
We reached the Nepenthe in time for the sunset. Charlie trained another bartender how to make a Vesper martini. We split a Calistoga artichoke appetizer, a Nepenthe's Ambrosia Burger, and a giant basket of fries. Behind us, a group of folks was discussing the "Julie and Julia" movie. A man at the table didn't know who Julia Child was. Others there filled him in, but agreed that she was still alive yet "elderly." Decisions... Reveal myself as an eavesdropper and inject myself into their conversation to set them straight or forever hold my peace? I practiced silence and turned my attention to the sun setting behind twin fog banks which garnered a crowd with cameras.
When the sun made its final dip into the ocean, there was discussion of seeing the green flash. Very cool, waiting for that fleeting event.
We stayed in a simple motel along the Big Sur River. There were Adirondack chairs in the river, perfect for sitting on a hot day. Even though the river was more like a creek after our dry year, I realized how rarely I experience a river. The cement-shrouded L.A. River doesn't count. I let the cool water run over my hands and touched the smooth pebbles on the bottom.
When the sun made its final dip into the ocean, there was discussion of seeing the green flash. Very cool, waiting for that fleeting event.
We stayed in a simple motel along the Big Sur River. There were Adirondack chairs in the river, perfect for sitting on a hot day. Even though the river was more like a creek after our dry year, I realized how rarely I experience a river. The cement-shrouded L.A. River doesn't count. I let the cool water run over my hands and touched the smooth pebbles on the bottom.
I awakened at some point during the night. It was strangely dark. Black dark. No display on the nightstand digital clock. No lights from outside. The power was off. I wondered if the rest of the world had disappeared like in one of those early 1960s horror movies inspired by A-Bomb paranoia in which the people seem to have evaporated, leaving their cars with full tanks of gas and the keys in the ignition. What if the world outside Big Sur was gone? Deciding there was nothing I could do about it, I rolled over and went back to sleep. In the morning, the digital clock was flashing the wrong time. The world had not disappeared.
 |
| I had plenty of company snapping this beauty. |
Every time I visit Big Sur, I hear its siren call, as have many others, including Henry Miller, who rolled in and didn't leave--for a while at least. Big Sur whispers to me, "What are you doing with all this stuff?" I think, you're right. I'm gonna shed my baggage, the Samsonite in my hands and the crap in my head, and stay. Stay and make necklaces out of stones and bones and write crazy prose and not care if anyone reads it and live out the rest of my days. The next morning, just like the power outage, the moment passed. After a lovely breakfast on a deck above the river, we pushed on to San Francisco and Bouchercon.
Every time I visit Big Sur, I hear its siren call, as have many others, including Henry Miller, who rolled in and didn't leave--for a while at least. Big Sur whispers to me, "What are you doing with all this stuff?" I think, you're right. I'm gonna shed my baggage, the Samsonite in my hands and the crap in my head, and stay. Stay and make necklaces out of stones and bones and write crazy prose and not care if anyone reads it and live out the rest of my days. The next morning, just like the power outage, the moment passed. After a lovely breakfast on a deck above the river, we pushed on to San Francisco and Bouchercon.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Writin' is Fightin'
If you're holding down a job, caring for family, keeping a home, you're already under a lot of pressure and your attention is pulled in a zillion directions. How are you going to fulfill your dream of writing that novel?
From the outside, writing a novel seems magical and mysterious. From the inside, it is often magical and mysterious. When the eagle soars and the words flow, it's a beautiful thing.
Then there are those other times...
I've heard Michael Connelly say that writin' is fightin'. It is a fight--to find time to write, to focus, to turn out great work, to shut down the self doubts. I've heard hugely successful novelists talk about having the same concerns. It's comforting in a way to know that they also struggle. I do have a couple of novelist friends who have said certain of their books have "written themselves." Hmm... Not me. By the time I've put a book to bed, I feel as if I've survived the Bataan Death March.
Take heart. Writing a novel is not easy for most of us.
If you want to write that book, you must treat it like a job. No time to wait for the muse. Set aside a fixed time five days a week and write. Even if it's just an hour. Even if you don't feel like it. Even if, even if... Just do it.
Just like any job, sometimes I have terrific days and other times, not so much. On those tough days, sometimes once I sit down and get started, the ideas and words come. Other days, the work just goes nowhere.
That's when I make a bargain with the muse. I'll tell myself to work for two hours, then I can go do something else. Or maybe just one hour... Walking away and doing something not related to writing, like going to the gym, digging in the yard, or cooking, often will pry loose ideas.
Then come back to the computer later that day or the next day ready for a new fight.
From the outside, writing a novel seems magical and mysterious. From the inside, it is often magical and mysterious. When the eagle soars and the words flow, it's a beautiful thing.
Then there are those other times...
I've heard Michael Connelly say that writin' is fightin'. It is a fight--to find time to write, to focus, to turn out great work, to shut down the self doubts. I've heard hugely successful novelists talk about having the same concerns. It's comforting in a way to know that they also struggle. I do have a couple of novelist friends who have said certain of their books have "written themselves." Hmm... Not me. By the time I've put a book to bed, I feel as if I've survived the Bataan Death March.
Take heart. Writing a novel is not easy for most of us.
If you want to write that book, you must treat it like a job. No time to wait for the muse. Set aside a fixed time five days a week and write. Even if it's just an hour. Even if you don't feel like it. Even if, even if... Just do it.
Just like any job, sometimes I have terrific days and other times, not so much. On those tough days, sometimes once I sit down and get started, the ideas and words come. Other days, the work just goes nowhere.
That's when I make a bargain with the muse. I'll tell myself to work for two hours, then I can go do something else. Or maybe just one hour... Walking away and doing something not related to writing, like going to the gym, digging in the yard, or cooking, often will pry loose ideas.
Then come back to the computer later that day or the next day ready for a new fight.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
They're Playing Our Song
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| Photo: Bill Youngblood |
As the larger decisions--ceremony, reception, music, food, attire--came together, we began to consider the smaller details. One detail turned out to be not so small. What song did we want for our first dance as husband and wife? We didn't have an "our song." The thought of an "our song" was so romantic and classic, so Bogie and Bacall, so Tracy and Hepburn, so Liz and Dick. How does a couple get one, make the decision that this is our song? It's not something you just pick out of the vinyl-coated, buffalo-wings-grease-smeared pages of a karoke song book.
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| Vintage 1950s cake topper I bought on eBay. Photo: Bill Youngblood. |
I decided to be practical. Forget about "our song." While we loved to dance, we'd never taken those ballroom dancing lessons we'd always talked about and were too busy to start so a swing tune like "Fly Me to the Moon" was out. I began scouting around for something easy to dance to. I also wanted something classy and that hadn't been done to death. No "Love Me Tender." No "From this Moment On." No "How Deep is Your Love." No. No. No. Love "Moon River," but cripes, too slow. And I wanted the song for our first dance to mean something. Even if it wasn't the elusive "our song," it had to be a great song.
One weekend, we went to La Jolla, California. Charlie had a business meeting nearby and we splurged on a stay at the La Valencia Hotel. Yes, it's as wonderful as it looks. That evening, we sat in the lobby bar where there was a piano singer--a dying breed. He started playing and singing a song that made me sit straighter. What was that tune? I'd heard it before, but hadn't really paid attention to it. Now, I was enthralled, especially when my husband-to-be spontaneously started singing along:
"I can only give you country walks in springtime,
and a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall.
And a love whose burning light,
Will warm a winter's night..."
The lyrics expressed what we felt about each other. The melody was memorable and... easy to dance to. I asked Charlie, "What's that song?" He turned to me and sang, "That's all. That's all..."
I've since learned that "That's All" was written in 1952 and has been recorded by many greats including Nat "King" Cole, Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme and Bobby Darin.
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| Our first dance to "That's All." Photo: Bill Youngblood. |
So, here's our song, for you Charlie. Happy tenth anniversary, sweetheart.
My favorite version is by Mel Torme, but I also love this classic version sung by Edie Adams on the "I Love Lucy" series finale in 1960.
Here's a lovely rendition by Cynthia Lin on ukulele that she performed at her sister's wedding.
Monday, July 26, 2010
What's in a Name?
I'm working on a new book and I'm having a hard time naming a key character. I've tried out a bunch of names, but nothing sticks. Something will, I just don't know what or when. I once heard Sue Grafton say, "Trust the process." Wise advice. When in doubt, keep at it. Something will come.
I can't speak for other fiction writers, but naming characters is a critical step for me when crafting a story. I strive for each character's name to evoke an image of or a feeling about the character. How perfect a name is "Hannibal Lecter" for a cannibalistic, erudite serial killer?
While I'm struggling with getting this one important character's name just right, I thought it might be of interest to describe my process for coming up with names. "Process" sounds so formal and orderly. In reality, my method has few rules and mostly flies on instinct.
As a place to begin, names reflect a character's era and background. I think about the character's age, social class, and where and how she or he was raised. I imagine the character's parents and think about where their heads were when their bouncing baby came along. In my most recent book, Love Kills, I had fun naming two sets of girlfriends from different generations and upbringings. One set included Patsy, Catherine ("Tink"), and Vicki. The other had Cheyenne, Fallon, and Trendi. Any ideas about the ages of the friends and which had the more stable backgrounds?
There are some Hollywood types in Love Kills and naming them was a kick. There's an A-list celebrity couple and I wanted to give them a catchy shorthand nickname along the lines of Brangelina. I named the husband, a vaguely creepy funnyman, Gig Towne and named his younger and troubled wife Sinclair LeFleur. They're known in the tabloids as "LeTowne." Gig is as snappy and phony as his name. Sinclair is like a bruised flower.
I chose Georgia Berryhill for the name of my motherly, nurturing guru to the stars who owns Berryhill, a Malibu Canyon healing ground for the well-heeled. "Georgia" to me sounds homey and comforting, like peach pie. "Berryhill" conjures a wonderful image. It was a blast to lift the kimono and reveal what really goes on at the Berryhill compound. Sometimes I choose names that deceive the reader about the character's true nature.
Sometimes, a name comes easily. That was the case when I named the protagonist of my current series, Detective Nan Vining. There's a town in California's eastern Sierra Nevada mountains that's called Lee Vining. That name had always stuck in my head. I wasn't crazy about "Lee" or "Leigh" as a first name, though. Names with a lot of vowels and soft consonants sound soft to me. I wanted my protagonist to have solid, old-fashioned first name and settled on Nan, short for Nanette, her grandmother's name. Nan Vining's name is apt because she's like a vine--tenacious, slowly creeping, deceptively strong. Her name also inspired her nickname at the station: Poison Ivy.
To me, names with hard consonants, like Nan Vining, sound sharp and forceful. Nan's homicide detective partner is Jim Kissick. Sounds decisive and he is.
I can start writing without having my characters' names finalized, but they don't feel whole until they're properly named. I feel like I don't completely know them. I often change names when I'm well into a manuscript. I'll be writing along with the great name I've picked and one day, it'll just go "clunk" in my head. Back to the drawing board.
What comprises my drawing board? I do have a sort of process for naming and keeping track of characters. Of course I consult the Internet. It's great for researching names by any parameters imaginable. I like to see words in print, so I also use books and such.
I bought Character Naming Sourcebook years ago and use it often. I have baby name books. I have a spiral pad full of names I've jotted down over the years. I keep alumni directories and high school yearbooks. I'll look through my local newspaper's obituaries. I'll scan the phone book. Sometimes I'll describe a character to my husband and ask him for a name off the top of his head. I've used names I've overheard.
I avoid names that are hard to pronounce. When I'm reading and come across a name I don't know how to pronounce, it takes me out of the story because I stop to try to figure it out.
I avoid names that can make for awkward reading. "Fred," for example. "Fred said" would take me right out of any story I'm reading. I don't want readers to focus on individual words. I want them to be lulled into the canvas I'm painting with words and to forget they're reading.
While I'm immersing myself into a world of names via these myriad sources, I jot down names on blue index cards with a Sharpie pen. I like blue cards for names and white cards for plot points. No reason. The white index cards I thumbtack to a big bulletin board to the left of my desk. I'll write about how I plot in a future blog post.
I look for memorable rather than unusual names. Sometimes the names are unusual. Sometimes they're common. The one thing they have in common is that they fit the character. Once I come up with a name I like, I tape the index card with it onto one of two large white boards that sit on the floor behind my desk, within easy reach. I'll also write brief facts about the character--age, background, etc. If I have longer descriptions, those go up too. Sometimes I'll put up photos I've found of people who look like how I've imagined a character.
Through all this, the characters begin to live and breathe and I'm slowly building the skeleton upon which I'll drape the story. I put index cards up and take them down as names change, new characters appear or ones I thought I needed drop away The index cards on the whiteboards also help me see if I have too many names that start with the same letter or that sound the same.
I save the final index cards that I've created for all my books. Part of saving them is sentimental, but they have a practical use too. I can quickly look through them to make sure I haven't already used a character's first or last name in another book in my Nan Vining series.
Here's a shot of one of my white boards as it looked when I finished the final revisions to Love Kills. After a book is finished, which for me is after I've gone through the printed page proofs and there's no further writing to do, I take everything down, leaving my white boards clean and bare, waiting for a new family of characters to move in. I again begin the process of getting to know them and their stories.
As far as the ongoing characters in my Detective Nan Vining series, I'm well beyond the blue index card phase with them. I have to keep track of their entire lives and make sure the basic facts about them stay consistent from book to book. I've set up a Word document for each character. I type into it physical characteristics, background information, family and educational history, types and names of their pets, even descriptions of their homes and workplaces if we've been there. I record anything about the character that has appeared in any of the Nan Vining books. With each book, I add to each character's encyclopedia page. I print the pages and put them into a three-ring binder that sits to the right of my computer. Then if I forget the color of Jim Kissick's eyes (hazel) or the number of times Nan's mother has been married (four), the information is at my fingertips.
Speaking of changing names, you might have noticed that I've changed the name of this blog. I used to call it "I Write Therefore I Am," which I meant as a fun poke at my undergraduate philosophy studies. "Plot Points" is pithier, I think, and speaks more to my goals with this blog. I've also used one of the new templates supplied by Blogger. What do you think?
I can't speak for other fiction writers, but naming characters is a critical step for me when crafting a story. I strive for each character's name to evoke an image of or a feeling about the character. How perfect a name is "Hannibal Lecter" for a cannibalistic, erudite serial killer?
While I'm struggling with getting this one important character's name just right, I thought it might be of interest to describe my process for coming up with names. "Process" sounds so formal and orderly. In reality, my method has few rules and mostly flies on instinct.
As a place to begin, names reflect a character's era and background. I think about the character's age, social class, and where and how she or he was raised. I imagine the character's parents and think about where their heads were when their bouncing baby came along. In my most recent book, Love Kills, I had fun naming two sets of girlfriends from different generations and upbringings. One set included Patsy, Catherine ("Tink"), and Vicki. The other had Cheyenne, Fallon, and Trendi. Any ideas about the ages of the friends and which had the more stable backgrounds?
There are some Hollywood types in Love Kills and naming them was a kick. There's an A-list celebrity couple and I wanted to give them a catchy shorthand nickname along the lines of Brangelina. I named the husband, a vaguely creepy funnyman, Gig Towne and named his younger and troubled wife Sinclair LeFleur. They're known in the tabloids as "LeTowne." Gig is as snappy and phony as his name. Sinclair is like a bruised flower.
I chose Georgia Berryhill for the name of my motherly, nurturing guru to the stars who owns Berryhill, a Malibu Canyon healing ground for the well-heeled. "Georgia" to me sounds homey and comforting, like peach pie. "Berryhill" conjures a wonderful image. It was a blast to lift the kimono and reveal what really goes on at the Berryhill compound. Sometimes I choose names that deceive the reader about the character's true nature.
Sometimes, a name comes easily. That was the case when I named the protagonist of my current series, Detective Nan Vining. There's a town in California's eastern Sierra Nevada mountains that's called Lee Vining. That name had always stuck in my head. I wasn't crazy about "Lee" or "Leigh" as a first name, though. Names with a lot of vowels and soft consonants sound soft to me. I wanted my protagonist to have solid, old-fashioned first name and settled on Nan, short for Nanette, her grandmother's name. Nan Vining's name is apt because she's like a vine--tenacious, slowly creeping, deceptively strong. Her name also inspired her nickname at the station: Poison Ivy.
To me, names with hard consonants, like Nan Vining, sound sharp and forceful. Nan's homicide detective partner is Jim Kissick. Sounds decisive and he is.
I can start writing without having my characters' names finalized, but they don't feel whole until they're properly named. I feel like I don't completely know them. I often change names when I'm well into a manuscript. I'll be writing along with the great name I've picked and one day, it'll just go "clunk" in my head. Back to the drawing board.
What comprises my drawing board? I do have a sort of process for naming and keeping track of characters. Of course I consult the Internet. It's great for researching names by any parameters imaginable. I like to see words in print, so I also use books and such.
I bought Character Naming Sourcebook years ago and use it often. I have baby name books. I have a spiral pad full of names I've jotted down over the years. I keep alumni directories and high school yearbooks. I'll look through my local newspaper's obituaries. I'll scan the phone book. Sometimes I'll describe a character to my husband and ask him for a name off the top of his head. I've used names I've overheard.
I avoid names that are hard to pronounce. When I'm reading and come across a name I don't know how to pronounce, it takes me out of the story because I stop to try to figure it out.
I avoid names that can make for awkward reading. "Fred," for example. "Fred said" would take me right out of any story I'm reading. I don't want readers to focus on individual words. I want them to be lulled into the canvas I'm painting with words and to forget they're reading.
While I'm immersing myself into a world of names via these myriad sources, I jot down names on blue index cards with a Sharpie pen. I like blue cards for names and white cards for plot points. No reason. The white index cards I thumbtack to a big bulletin board to the left of my desk. I'll write about how I plot in a future blog post.
I look for memorable rather than unusual names. Sometimes the names are unusual. Sometimes they're common. The one thing they have in common is that they fit the character. Once I come up with a name I like, I tape the index card with it onto one of two large white boards that sit on the floor behind my desk, within easy reach. I'll also write brief facts about the character--age, background, etc. If I have longer descriptions, those go up too. Sometimes I'll put up photos I've found of people who look like how I've imagined a character.
Through all this, the characters begin to live and breathe and I'm slowly building the skeleton upon which I'll drape the story. I put index cards up and take them down as names change, new characters appear or ones I thought I needed drop away The index cards on the whiteboards also help me see if I have too many names that start with the same letter or that sound the same.
I save the final index cards that I've created for all my books. Part of saving them is sentimental, but they have a practical use too. I can quickly look through them to make sure I haven't already used a character's first or last name in another book in my Nan Vining series.
Here's a shot of one of my white boards as it looked when I finished the final revisions to Love Kills. After a book is finished, which for me is after I've gone through the printed page proofs and there's no further writing to do, I take everything down, leaving my white boards clean and bare, waiting for a new family of characters to move in. I again begin the process of getting to know them and their stories.
Speaking of changing names, you might have noticed that I've changed the name of this blog. I used to call it "I Write Therefore I Am," which I meant as a fun poke at my undergraduate philosophy studies. "Plot Points" is pithier, I think, and speaks more to my goals with this blog. I've also used one of the new templates supplied by Blogger. What do you think?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Interview for The Big Thrill
This interview by Lori A. May appeared in the International Thriller Writers "Big Thrill" newsletter.
Dianne Emley escaped a career in business middle management and the cubicle warren and now writes the Detective Nan Vining thrillers published by Ballantine. The debut, The First Cut, was an LA Times bestseller. Publisher's Weekly called Cut to the Quick "compelling" and "edgy." The Deepest Cut, a Romantic Times TOP PICK, received a starred review from Booklist. Love Kills was released in May 2010. The series has been translated into several languages. A Los Angeles native, Dianne has a BA and an MBA from UCLA. She lives in Pasadena with her patient husband and two willful cats.
Dianne was pleased to chat about writing, life, and her latest in the series--Love Kills.
Q: Congratulations on Love Kills, the fourth book in the best-selling Detective Nan Vining series. When you started writing the debut in the series, The First Cut, did you imagine Nan would take you for such a ride?
A: Thank you! I can't wait for Nan's fans to reconnect with her in her newest adventure, Love Kills, which is jam-packed with twists and turns. When I started writing The First Cut, the series debut, I wanted to keep readers turning the pages into the wee hours of the night. I have to say that Nan has taken me to some unexpected and exciting places that neither I nor she could predict. In her obsession to trap the man who ambushed her and left her for dead, whom she and her daughter have dubbed T.B. Mann (short for The Bad Man), she's danced on the line between right and wrong, scaring even herself (and me).
Q: Perhaps more than ever, Nan has some serious personal stakes within Love Kills. What sort of struggle do you have, as Nan's creator, to keep her balanced between peril and pursuit?
A: Love Kills takes Nan disturbingly close to home when she learns that the seemingly unrelated murders of a Hollywood P.I. in a seedy East L.A. motel and the mysterious drowning of Pasadena socialite in her backyard pool do, in fact, have a connection--Nan's mother. Even though Nan faces daunting challenges investigating these new homicides, she must stay grounded and balanced as she is a single mom to her fifteen-year-old daughter, Emily. No matter the perils of her day job, Nan has to make sure that Em gets to and from school, eats well, does her homework and chores, and stays out of trouble.
Q: You have quite an impressive tour schedule this summer! Some might say the book tour is on a decline--in part due to the economy and partly since there are more online marketing opportunities than ever for writers. What do you like most about touring and why do you think there is still value in meeting readers face-to-face?
A: The writing life is solitary. Contact with fans and other writers online is a form or connection, but there's no comparison between sharing Twitter tweets versus a handshake, a face-to-face smile, and real conversation. I enjoy the discussions that arise at book signings. Plus, I love chatting with booksellers, finding out what they're reading, and poking around genuine brick-and-mortar stores.
Q: When you were eleven, you asked for a desk and a typewriter for Christmas. Do you still have these items of nostalgia? If not a Smith Corona, how do you prefer to now write out your works-in-progress?
A: That desk and typewriter were given away long ago. The desk was tiny. Don't miss it, but I do miss the Smith Corona portable for sentimental reasons. I typed many college papers on it, scads of letters, and my earliest fiction. I still have the Brother portable electric that replaced it and I also have two antiques, an Underwood and a Royal, both from the 1920s. They are impressive--big and heavy. I sometimes tap their keys just to hear that typewriter "clack." Now I mostly write on computers, about which I'm not sentimental. They get traded in regularly. For revisions, I print out the manuscript and handwrite with Dixon Ticonderoga #2 pencils, sharpened with a manual sharpener that's bolted to the back of a door. I reach a point where I need to touch the words and handle the manuscript.
Q: It took several career changes and some far-reaching travel to finally settle in as a writer. What would you say to others who have realized they have done everything else they want or should--go to college, get a job, get married--and still feel that desire for writing, but perhaps wonder if it's too late to start?
A: It's never too late, as long as there is breath in your lungs, ideas in your mind that you'd like to put on paper, and a fire in your belly to write. That's the charm of the writer's life--youth and beauty aren't important! Wisdom and perspective make your work richer. On the other hand, you don't need to wait until you've attained that great college degree, job, relationship, family, etc. to begin. All you really need is to start. And don't stop, no matter what. Set a routine. Make writing an important part of your day. Carve out just one hour, five days a week, put your butt in the chair, and do it.
Q: Earlier in your writing endeavors, you signed up for a writing class and now you're a published member of International Thriller Writers. How has ITW benefited you and why is it important for writers to connect with others via classes, organizations, and writing groups?
A: ITW and Thrillerfest are terrific. I always learn something at Thrillerfest and reading The Big Thrill. At Thrillerfest, it's great to connect with old pals and make new friends. As I said earlier in this interview, the writing life is solitary. It's easy to get bogged down and in a rut. Sometimes talking with another writer is just what I need to work through a rough plot point or a rough career patch. It's nurturing to connect with folks who understand your career and craft challenges and joys. I started my first book in a writing class, where I also found my first mentor. I got that book published and my mentor became a trusted colleague through the years. I don't know if I would have finished that first book and set about finding and agent and a publisher without the support and the nudging of other writers.
Q: Finally, what's the future for Nan? Will we see a fifth book in the series?
A: I'm giving Nan a break for the time being and am working on a new book, a thriller, that I'm very excited about. There will likely be another Nan Vining. For now, I'm putting all my effort into this new book, hanging on for what is shaping up to be quite a ride. Thank you for inviting me to participate in this Q & A and for sharing your time with me.
Dianne Emley escaped a career in business middle management and the cubicle warren and now writes the Detective Nan Vining thrillers published by Ballantine. The debut, The First Cut, was an LA Times bestseller. Publisher's Weekly called Cut to the Quick "compelling" and "edgy." The Deepest Cut, a Romantic Times TOP PICK, received a starred review from Booklist. Love Kills was released in May 2010. The series has been translated into several languages. A Los Angeles native, Dianne has a BA and an MBA from UCLA. She lives in Pasadena with her patient husband and two willful cats.
Dianne was pleased to chat about writing, life, and her latest in the series--Love Kills.
Q: Congratulations on Love Kills, the fourth book in the best-selling Detective Nan Vining series. When you started writing the debut in the series, The First Cut, did you imagine Nan would take you for such a ride?
A: Thank you! I can't wait for Nan's fans to reconnect with her in her newest adventure, Love Kills, which is jam-packed with twists and turns. When I started writing The First Cut, the series debut, I wanted to keep readers turning the pages into the wee hours of the night. I have to say that Nan has taken me to some unexpected and exciting places that neither I nor she could predict. In her obsession to trap the man who ambushed her and left her for dead, whom she and her daughter have dubbed T.B. Mann (short for The Bad Man), she's danced on the line between right and wrong, scaring even herself (and me).
Q: Perhaps more than ever, Nan has some serious personal stakes within Love Kills. What sort of struggle do you have, as Nan's creator, to keep her balanced between peril and pursuit?
A: Love Kills takes Nan disturbingly close to home when she learns that the seemingly unrelated murders of a Hollywood P.I. in a seedy East L.A. motel and the mysterious drowning of Pasadena socialite in her backyard pool do, in fact, have a connection--Nan's mother. Even though Nan faces daunting challenges investigating these new homicides, she must stay grounded and balanced as she is a single mom to her fifteen-year-old daughter, Emily. No matter the perils of her day job, Nan has to make sure that Em gets to and from school, eats well, does her homework and chores, and stays out of trouble.
Q: You have quite an impressive tour schedule this summer! Some might say the book tour is on a decline--in part due to the economy and partly since there are more online marketing opportunities than ever for writers. What do you like most about touring and why do you think there is still value in meeting readers face-to-face?
A: The writing life is solitary. Contact with fans and other writers online is a form or connection, but there's no comparison between sharing Twitter tweets versus a handshake, a face-to-face smile, and real conversation. I enjoy the discussions that arise at book signings. Plus, I love chatting with booksellers, finding out what they're reading, and poking around genuine brick-and-mortar stores.
Q: When you were eleven, you asked for a desk and a typewriter for Christmas. Do you still have these items of nostalgia? If not a Smith Corona, how do you prefer to now write out your works-in-progress?
A: That desk and typewriter were given away long ago. The desk was tiny. Don't miss it, but I do miss the Smith Corona portable for sentimental reasons. I typed many college papers on it, scads of letters, and my earliest fiction. I still have the Brother portable electric that replaced it and I also have two antiques, an Underwood and a Royal, both from the 1920s. They are impressive--big and heavy. I sometimes tap their keys just to hear that typewriter "clack." Now I mostly write on computers, about which I'm not sentimental. They get traded in regularly. For revisions, I print out the manuscript and handwrite with Dixon Ticonderoga #2 pencils, sharpened with a manual sharpener that's bolted to the back of a door. I reach a point where I need to touch the words and handle the manuscript.
Q: It took several career changes and some far-reaching travel to finally settle in as a writer. What would you say to others who have realized they have done everything else they want or should--go to college, get a job, get married--and still feel that desire for writing, but perhaps wonder if it's too late to start?
A: It's never too late, as long as there is breath in your lungs, ideas in your mind that you'd like to put on paper, and a fire in your belly to write. That's the charm of the writer's life--youth and beauty aren't important! Wisdom and perspective make your work richer. On the other hand, you don't need to wait until you've attained that great college degree, job, relationship, family, etc. to begin. All you really need is to start. And don't stop, no matter what. Set a routine. Make writing an important part of your day. Carve out just one hour, five days a week, put your butt in the chair, and do it.
Q: Earlier in your writing endeavors, you signed up for a writing class and now you're a published member of International Thriller Writers. How has ITW benefited you and why is it important for writers to connect with others via classes, organizations, and writing groups?
A: ITW and Thrillerfest are terrific. I always learn something at Thrillerfest and reading The Big Thrill. At Thrillerfest, it's great to connect with old pals and make new friends. As I said earlier in this interview, the writing life is solitary. It's easy to get bogged down and in a rut. Sometimes talking with another writer is just what I need to work through a rough plot point or a rough career patch. It's nurturing to connect with folks who understand your career and craft challenges and joys. I started my first book in a writing class, where I also found my first mentor. I got that book published and my mentor became a trusted colleague through the years. I don't know if I would have finished that first book and set about finding and agent and a publisher without the support and the nudging of other writers.
Q: Finally, what's the future for Nan? Will we see a fifth book in the series?
A: I'm giving Nan a break for the time being and am working on a new book, a thriller, that I'm very excited about. There will likely be another Nan Vining. For now, I'm putting all my effort into this new book, hanging on for what is shaping up to be quite a ride. Thank you for inviting me to participate in this Q & A and for sharing your time with me.
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