Truth and Lies

My need to blog was temporarily overshadowed by my need to earn a living. I know, I know. I need to get my priorities straight.

The biggest news is that I finished the third book! Well, that's not completely accurate. I wrote the ending, but now I need to go back to edit and fill in. There are some timeline issues that need to be addressed, which will take time to work out. I'm a long way from publishing. I'd say at least three months, but still...it's pretty gosh darn exciting.

I still don't have a title for the damn thing. That could be a problem.

So, maybe you could stop sending voodoo dolls of the Prez of FKCC (although they are adorable and line the back of my desk) and start brainstorming titles. I realize that you don't know what the book is really about, but I have given a few clues. The setting is mostly Islamorada during mini season. It tells the story of several characters, some are locals who struggle to make a living and others are just passing through. Some are dangerous criminals, others are the salt of the earth. The novel is fiction, although as Stephen King once said, "fiction is the truth inside the lie".

I'll never be in the same league as King (Hello Captain Obvious!), but here's my take on what he meant. To write good fiction, you start with the truth and then build the lies around it. You know bad fiction when you read it. It's when the author doesn't do their research and things aren't believable because you recognize the inaccuracies. I've been guilty of this, especially when the characters in my books continue to insist that's how they want their stories written. I'm trying to get better at reining my characters in, rather than being a slave to their whisperings. It's not easy.

Back to the point. The third novel is fiction, which means there are snippets of truth woven through the lies to hold it all together. Maybe therein lies the title...Hmmm.

As always, your suggestions are most welcome. Until then, I have a lot of editing and cleaning up to do.

I plan to start a pool before the book is released. We'll bet on how many people will be pissed off about a fictional book that isn't about them.

About that - just this past weekend during our annual Halloween party, one of my ghoulishly-costumed guests began picking out characters from Fat Chance as they wandered through the buffet line or stood at the bar. It was so damn entertaining to watch the light bulb turn on and then she'd say, "Maude, right?" or "That's gotta be Donna!"

After all, fiction really is the truth inside the lie.

Surprise!

I love when my books write themselves and that's exactly what's been happening over the past couple of days. I thought I knew where this thing was headed, but man was I wrong!

These characters have minds of their own. They do whatever they want. Apparently, I'm just along for the ride. I've lost all control and, while that may sound frightening, it's also exhilarating! Surprise!

I often wonder if some of what's unraveling in book number three is just too unrealistic to publish, but maybe that's the wrong attitude. Weird shit is happening and that's okay; it's fiction. Fortunately, there aren't hard and fast rules about what can and can't happen in a fictional story. I'm going to stick with my method of letting the book happen. I won't try to control or shape it. I'll just let the story unravel and then share it with you. Take the parts that you like and ignore the rest.

Two people died this week. (Relax. I'm referring to two fictional characters in the book.) I felt pretty bad about one of them and didn't feel like writing for about a day afterwards. Is that weird? The other one had it coming, but I may rewrite it to make that particular ending a bit more awful. Is that more weird?

Do you wonder where these stories come from? I do. What's going on in my grey matter? Honestly, I don't sit around contemplating murder, but it sure is happening frequently in my books as of late. One thing I know for sure; I always feel better after writing, whatever it is that comes out. Certainly, writing is cheaper than therapy. So is wine. Combine the two and BAM!

I've gotta get back to the madness. An idea just came to me and I want to see where it goes. The book is still without a title, but I hope that will resolve itself in the near future or it'll be published as "The Next One" and that just won't do.

Suggestions?!

Twice in One Day?

Yeah, I know I already posted to this blog today, but I'm posting again. Its mine and well, there you have it. I can do what I want with it.

I really have a bug up my butt right now. I had a conversation with another woman about menopause (something I don't believe in) and it was downright ridiculous. She blamed everything in her life on the dang thing. That's like blaming everything on aliens or unicorns. It doesn't exist!! You are tired because you go out drinking every night. You are gaining weight because, much like me, you sit on on your duff most of the day and eat whatever you feel like. You are getting wrinkles because you're in your forties! Your boobs are drooping because you're in your forties! Stop the madness.

I tried to be delicate at first, but that approach just never works well for me. I may have said something like this:

"Pull your head outta your ass for God's sake! You can't blame all that shit on menopause. It's not real. You're doing it to yourself and Father Time is lending a helping hand. For Christ's sake, shut the hell up."

I don't know if I'll be on her Christmas card list this December.

The bottom line is that I don't believe in menopause. My body and I have an agreement. We're not doing it. Period. End of story. I don't think any woman should have to do it.

Here are other things I don't believe in (We may have covered this before, but it's worth repeating):

 - PMS
 - Valentine's Day
 - Mother's Day
 - Father's Day
 - That marshmallow peeps are a food
 - That people eat candy corn
 - That red wine is bad for you

Okay. I feel better now.

Remember: Menopause is not real. Just Don't Do It!!!

Autumn Dreams

I've always been drawn to stories and movies about the medieval period and Renaissance. Long, flowing gowns with elaborate closures, castles, feasts, art, dance, and learning...Some of my favorite movies involve these images; The Man In The Iron Mask, King Arthur, Braveheart, Robin Hood, and don't forget Monty Python and The Holy Grail.

One of my favorite places on Earth is the Renaissance Festival in Crownsville, MD. It's one of the biggest I've been to, covering twenty-five wooded acres. They offer costume rentals so that visitors can shed their jeans and t-shirts for period clothing. Vendors sell tankards of beer and wine. Others sell giant smoked turkey legs. There's song and dance, jousting, and magic. Even as an adult, I've often wished that I could live there all year long.

For whatever reason (please enlighten me if you make the connection), autumn always renews this particular fascination. Even though it's hard to tell that Fall has arrived on my little island, I long for castles and gowns just a little bit more this time of year.

I woke from a dream about Minard Castle early this morning. It's on Ireland's Dingle Peninsula and I was there this past June. (I had quite the experience - but that's for another post.) I don't remember much about the dream, but in it, Minard Castle was young again. It was whole and beautiful and I lived there.

As I lay in bed trying to remember the details of the Castle, I felt kinda sad. I wished that I could have lived during the Renaissance, back when Minard Castle was a place of happiness and celebrations. I longed for the romance of that age, Isn't it odd how easy it is to miss something that you never had? I suppose that's because I don't really understand what it was like to live during that time period. I only imagine the parts that I would like.

Castles are not heated, nor do they have indoor plumbing. Ireland gets pretty damn cold and there is nothing romantic about doing one's business in the chamber pot. (And where the hell do you empty it the next morning?) There was no refrigeration during the Renaissance. I don't like warm beer...although that wouldn't be a problem in the winter. A hot shower? Please. You'd be lucky to slide a tub in front of the fire and then hope to convince someone to heat water on the fire while you try to stay warm in your luke-warm water. Food poisoning, STDs, and errant arrows were daily challenges.

Does any of that really sound romantic?

*sigh* Yes. Somehow it really does.

Well Would You?

I stumbled across a powerful thing this morning. Brace yourself.

If the words you spoke appeared on your skin, would you still be beautiful?

Whoa. Powerful, right?

As tempted as I am to lambaste a couple of donkeys who purposely crapped all over my week, I will refrain. I will keep my speech beautiful in the hopes of becoming more beautiful.

Let's see how long this experiment lasts before I explode and say exactly what I think. Feel free to start a pool and place bets.

Altogether unrelated, I made interesting progress on book three this week. Shots have been fired but I don't know if anyone was killed. The character witnessing the event fled the scene to save his worthless behind. It's a waiting game for all of us. I've no idea what happened inside that concrete house on a canal in Key Largo. Your guess is as good as mine.

Tune in next time. Will I be able to keep my speech beautiful? Will we discover what transpired in that house? Will the anonymous fan who keeps sending me voodoo dolls identify themselves?

Bullet Dodged

Whew! I lucked out and dodged that bullet. It could have gone the other way, but fortunately I'm dealing with people who understand the concepts of sarcasm and venting. They are unlike the donkeys at Florida Keys Community College in that respect.

There was a very good chance that my decision to exercise my freedom of speech, coupled with the whisperings of vindictive FL Keys Community College scoundrels, would put to rest my chances of being hired by a local law enforcement agency. I met with senior leaders last week and am very, very happy to say that all is well. I hope to be able to make an official announcement regarding my new adventure in the next week or two. Suffice to say, you won't be reading about them in this here blog. No sirree, Bob.

Until that new chapter begins, I have a lot of writing to do. Book #3 is at a critical point and I'm struggling to tie together a few loose ends. Some of the characters aren't acting the way I thought they would and it's wreaking havoc with my ability to manage the plot. Don't you hate it when your characters get a mind of their own and do things that you never saw coming? Sometimes it's great but other times it's a total shit storm. That's where I find myself.

There are two characters in particular that need to have their ears boxed. I can't keep either of them in check. Just when I think I know what's going on, they jump off the deep end and drag me along behind them. No warning. Just...Bang!

Put down the phone. There's no reason to involve men in white coats, at least not yet. Let me finish the damn book first.

I'm still searching for a title. I love the sound of "Tropical Illusion" but it doesn't fit. Ditto for "Tropical Depression". It'll come to me eventually, but until then, please feel free to offer your suggestions. If I use your title, I'll take full credit for the idea and you'll get nothing. Oh stop! You'll get something. A free book, a mention in the dedication...perhaps a character fashioned after you.

Thanks to the anonymous reader who sent a voodoo doll. It's lovely and sits on my desk looking at me while I write. The likeness is ... frightening.

Ravioli Are Like Books

I tried my hand at ravioli today. First time ever. I don't own one of those fancy-schmancy stand mixers with a dough hook attachment. Nor did my kitchen come equipped with a pasta roller. But hey, the Mommas in the old days didn't have those and they made pasta every day. I decided to go old school. I mixed the pasta by hand and then I rolled it out.

I used my mother-in-law's wooden rolling pin. The handles fell off years and years ago, but I just can't part with the damn thing. It's a real pain in the ass to use. Picture it; a rolling pin without handles! Whenever Doug threatens to throw it away, I hide it. I don't want a new shiny one. I never met Doug's mother and using her well-used wooden roller makes me feel like maybe we'd have been friends.

I learned a lot of things today. Making ravioli is therapeutic. For those of you who don't like to cook, what that really means is that making those cheese-stuffed little babies can be frustrating as hell. The experience makes you forget all of the other things you were pissed off about before you started to mix pasta dough. When someone tells you that an activity is "therapeutic", that's what they really mean. Now you know.

I also learned that flour gets everywhere when I make pasta. I mean everywhere. Boozy and Bear's coats were sprinkled with a nice dusting and my iphone has chunks of it stuck inside the protective case. (Don't tell Doug I touched my phone with dirty hands. He'll take it away from me.) Anyway, I should probably put down a drop cloth the next time I decide to engage in another therapeutic kitchen activity.

You know what else I learned? Ravioli are a lot like books. You have to keep practicing before they get really good. What's more is that you can put different things inside them - just like books. They don't all have to be filled with the same kinds of things. Ravioli can be scary - that would be one filled with peas or carrots if you ask me. They can be romantic - doesn't rosemary lemon ricotta sound romantic? They can be mysterious. Clean out the fridge and use whatever you have.

Ravioli are like books. I like to devour both.

See what happens when I have too much time on my hands?