BOUCHERCON 2010 | Books and Booze by the Bay

Posted on October 18, 2010 by lalber

If you haven’t heard of Bouchercon, it’s the annual trade show for mystery writers and their fans. This year it was held in San Francisco, the land of noir.

How could I not love riding the elevator with Laurie R. King and receiving a kind word in response to my desperate attempt at chit-chat? As I recall, I mentioned that I knew her long-time editor way back when.

Or Hank Phillippi Ryan. For a long while I’d only known of her through the Jungle Red group blog. In real life, she was gorgeous, and she was gracious with everyone, famous or not. I almost followed her around in true stalker fashion. I’m not kidding.

Or Heather Graham. Not quite knowing who she was, I babbled something inane (much alcohol consumed, very little sleep…you get it). She was perfectly nice in response. But why oh why was I going on about that old Prince song “Let’s Go Crazy”?

Or sitting with Bryan Gruley in the bar and thinking, This dude is such a cool dude. Anyone could comfortably put back a beer with him without realizing he’s a fabulous writer. (And he’s good-looking too.)

Or running into Gayle Lynds in the bathroom while she was primping. I asked her if I should know who she was — faux pas anyone? She responded with a twinkly little squint so I pretended to recognize her name when she said it. Here’s the thing: Now that I know Lynd’s name, I’ll look for her books.

Or chatting with nice-as-pie Harley Jane Kozak about her agent, whom I also used to know back in the day. Or introducing myself to Dana Stabenow because we were in that Elizabeth George anthology together…

Here’s the only “however”: I participated as an agent-less novelist, with no published novels under my belt. I noticed that a few attendees ceased to be interested in me when they discovered my lowly publishing status. Sad to see the networking gleam fade from their eyes.

BUT, here’s the “however” to the “however”: Librarians and other fans are the best! I don’t know how many nonwriters I met who were enthused to hear about my novel, who wanted to see me in print, who asked for my business card.

As an exercise in extroversion and schmooze-practice, I give myself a 3.2 out of 5.0, and most of that is for effort rather than execution. It’s all good, and I made a bunch of new friends, discovered dozens of new authors, and lookee here: I’m so enthused, have I started blogging again?

I’m Skittish

Posted on May 11, 2010 by lalber

Random 2009 Pic — I think Mr. Greenie is feeling a little skittish too.

I’ve been meaning to write a couple of blog posts for over a week now. I wanted to plug a local novelist, Naseem Rahka, whose debut novel, The Crying Tree, just won the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association award.

I also wanted to write a post about the first annual Terroir Creative Writers Conference held in McVinnville. For non-Oregonians, McVinnville is a sweet little town in the heart of wine country, about 90 minutes from Portland. The word “terroir” is a winemaking term, not, alas, “terror” + “noir.”

Yet another novel idea preoccupies me. The air-fairy kind of preoccupation that involves a list of everything that interests me right now and a lot of nonfiction reading. Going from one topic to another, letting my mind wander in an imaginative way…Letting the subconscious juices burble…

But enough of that already. Last week I forced myself to get concrete. It’s one thing to amble around in the land of, Oh man, I’d like to write a story that incorporates x and centers around y — quite another thing to actually have a story idea.

So, last Monday, I opened a Word document. I wrote, “I want to write a story about (insert air-fairy inkling here)” and spent the week asking myself a million questions. By Friday, I had almost two pages of particulars (character names, location, central plotline, some backstory, an ending that will probably change but that’s okay).

But.

I’m skittish. The last couple of novel ideas haven’t panned out. I almost have a complex! Second-guessing myself, perhaps, or, worse yet, trying too hard. By which I mean, trying too hard to write something that will for-sure get me published (as if there’s ever a “for-sure”).

This time around I’m trying to listen to my body for those “a-ha” moments that might indicate that I’m onto something worthwhile idea-wise. And I’m trying not to dismiss the fact that my idea seems…well…too outlandish — maybe even stupid?

But what is too outlandish these days? And what’s stupid anyhow? I don’t even know what I mean by that word when I use it. Must be my fear talking, right?

Tending Toward the Dark Side

Posted on April 27, 2010 by lalber

Well, that was a no-go. I told an earnest tale of writing the first 50 pages to see if my latest novel idea had legs. I didn’t write a word, not one word.

I could blame distractions — of which there have been many — but I won’t. The truth is, the novel idea was probably “not me” from its inception, and its inception began with two marvelous, sun-drenched weeks in Hawaii in January. I was in such a serene mood that I became enamored of a serene idea. Serene for me that is: women’s fiction, a story more about happily-ever-after than about murder and mayhem.

After Ghost Story Weekend, in which I reminded myself to listen to the loudest voice in my head, all I can say is this: No wonder my serene idea didn’t pan out. The ideas that excite me tend toward the dark side. I knew my serene idea was in trouble when a stalker entered the scene. But even with a stalker, I’m not interested. Yawn.

It’s a relief to officially let this idea go. It’s been dogging me for many weeks now. I had a big ol’ crush on the idea, but no way it and I would live happily-ever-after for the next year of writing and revising. Alas, coming up with a viable story idea is sometimes like kissing a frog.

WRITING CREEPY | A Ghost Story Weekend

Posted on April 19, 2010 by lalber

Come to find out that writing creepy is hard! I’d arrived at Ghost Story Weekend without an idea, thinking no biggie, something will come, it always does. On Friday night when most of the other 12 writers at the retreat tapped away, tap-tap-tap, on their short stories, and with only 24 hours to write a first draft, I found myself doing the Jack Nicholson:

“…I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write. Image of a girl walking her dog…so stupid with no other character on the scene. But maybe the people in the houses — the people she sees through the windows are the creep-factors. Stepford-wife-like neighborhoods are creepy. So what would this girl be — blah! I don’t have an idea I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write…”

About half of us sat in the haunted boathouse while the others wrote in the bungalows. When we’d met with our hostess, novelist Elizabeth Engstrom, earlier in the evening, I’d noticed that most of my fellow crazy people looked confident. Even the few who’d arrived without a story idea looked confident that they’d find and finish their stories. For some reason, I was stuck on the word “creepy.”

I wasn’t in a creepy mood. I was having too much fun reunionizing and meeting people, enjoying the unusually warm weather, relishing the time away from my moronic downstairs neighbors, and drinking red wine. If anything, I was in a sarcastic mood. I kept hearing a flippant little first-person voice poking fun at everything ghostly.

But…I was also torturing myself in classic writerly fashion: I must give creepy a try.

Saturday dawned cloudy with wind enough to stir Siltcoos Lake and set the boathouse to swaying. I had nothing. No revelations in the night despite the index cards and pen sitting next to my pillow. EFF-this, I thought, I’m going with my sarcastic voice. As long as my story contains some species of ghostly phenomena, I’m golden.

Then, what do you know, I had a blast writing my story. Now my desperation was all about finishing the draft by 6:00 p.m. that evening. I started with a voice and a setting — plus something to poke fun at: ghost hunters. Didn’t know where it was going, how to end it, or what the point of the whole thing was. After awhile, I didn’t care, and, in the end, I even managed a little creepiness.

Lessons learned or relearned?

1. Jump in, the story will follow. Sometimes it’s best not to think too hard about it.

2. Go with the voice in my head that’s yelling the loudest.

3. Creepiness comes when you least expect it.

A Serendipity Story

Posted on April 15, 2010 by lalber

AprilHenrybook — Can you see April Henry's name?

I like the idea of synchronicity. As in when you work toward a goal, and life treats you to a serendipitous surprise as a reward. Kind of like creating your own luck. This is the way I’ve experienced serendipity anyhow. Not that I’ve been on that roll for awhile…sadly…BUT, at novelist April Henry’s reading earlier this week, I bouyed myself up with her grandly serendipitous publishing adventure. It can happen!

Sidenote: April Henry taught a thriller-writing class last fall. I was one of her students, eager to learn more about plotting. She’s an excellent teacher and knows her stuff for sure.

Back in the day, April worked hard at her fiction (and still does, obviously). In fact, she mentioned five unpublished novels in different genres, including historical and chick-lit. Then, she hit her stride with Circles of Confusion, which sold in three days.

So, now April was a mystery writer with a series. She also wrote YA novels. As I understand it, there came a point when the adult novels weren’t doing as well, and the series petered out. She kept writing around her 9-to-5 job and plugging away. Here’s where I see serendipity: Because she’d been out there and working hard, she knew people, people knew of her, and the way I see it, up pops an opportunity that she’d never have imagined possible: “helping” (my quotes, not April’s) Lis Wiehl, legal analyst and television personality, write thrillers.

Another sidenote: It’s the James Patterson thing. The brand name with the true author mentioned in little print. Once again, my words, not April’s. (I repeat, my words, not April’s.)

You might be thinking…Well, that sounds oookay, but not like an optimal publishing experience for a talented novelist. But, here’s the thing. The first book in their series landed on the New York Times bestseller list, and they’ve signed a second multi-book deal. Meanwhile, April has continued her YA publishing track, and because of her new success with Lis Wiehl, her YA publisher is promoting the heck out of her upcoming YA novel.

On the purely practical side: April got a quit her day-job. She now writes fiction (lucratively) full-time! Isn’t that what we all want?

I felt happy for April as I walked out of the bookstore. To me, that’s a great story.

Particularities and Perseverence

Posted on April 12, 2010 by lalber

Catnap — I wanna go back to sleep SO bad!

On Friday I wrote that I was seeking something in my life, and I wondered what this meant for my fiction. I didn’t mean that I was going to quit. I meant that I need to branch out and explore other areas of my being-ness. I’ve had one egg (fiction) in my basket for quite awhile now.

However, that said, today I promised myself I’d start writing on yet another new novel idea. Last fall I started a thriller, took a workshop, and lost interest in the story. Hard-core thrillers aren’t my thing, that’s all. But I wanted to check out that kind of storytelling, and I’m glad I did.

Now, it’s time to start again. I’ve muddled a new idea, and, of course, I’m unsure about it. Over the weekend, I realized — RE-realized I should say — that after awhile I tie myself in knots with too much thinking. I’m better in the doing. The only way to know whether I’m emotionally invested is to write the first 50 pages fast, which is to say, with minimal angst.

Being a detail-oriented person, I find it’s the particularites set down on the page that get me excited. The grand story vision is an untested theory, that’s all. So I’ll see what I see after 50 pages.

I’m sitting up in bed with coffee, laptop, index cards, and novel journal (plus cat) at my side. Please wish me luck: I’m exhausted and anxious. I haven’t been sleeping well because of money stress. That’s why I’m still in bed; sitting at my desk to write would take too much energy. This, my friends, is perseverence in action!

A Day of Rest

Posted on April 9, 2010 by lalber

I’ve been thinking about the concept of the sabbath. The day of rest. I mean a true day of rest, in which we live outside our hectic notions of time. No errand running, no catch-up work, no nothing. Just relaxation, friends, family, eating (of course!), and your church of choice, whether that’s a cathedral or a forest.

If I understand the traditional intent, we’d devote our sabbath days to our spiritual selves. But how to take ourselves out of the daily grind for one day? Each week, we’d have to plan for our personal sabbaths as if going on a one-day vacation from our lives. We’d have to say “no.” We’d try to avoid the easy time-wasters and brain-pacifiers: television, Internet, email, and maybe even novels. (Oh–the last one would be my downfall in a restless moment!)

I’d probably nap during the afternoon and call this a form of contemplation. For reflection time, I could journal. I’d walk as a form of meditation.

Hmm…

What about fiction writing? For the longest time, I thought of fiction as my religion. It was the way I connected to my core self and to the bigger universal dealio, whatever that may be, because I sure as heck don’t know. Maybe without knowing it, I’ve been looking for this dealio through my fiction.

All I know is that when I started taking my fiction seriously, I stopped seeking a spiritual path in the more traditional sense.

I seem to be in seeker mode again though. I wonder what this means for my fiction…

This Is my Big Toe

Posted on April 1, 2010 by lalber

Well, hi there after so long. I feel like I’m venturing into a cozy room after wandering an outer darkness for awhile. My room is a parlor with striped wallpaper and fringed lamps, and it contains a roaring fire and dozens shabby, genteel wingback chairs. In those wingback chairs lounge virtual blog friends of times past. You, my blog friends, are ghostly as yet — but welcoming — and my chair sits in the middle of everyone, already warmed by the fire.

This is my big toe venturing back into blog-world. It needs a little warming up, so I shall stretch it toward the hearth by way of 2010 photos.

Hey, how are you? Drop a line, let me know.

Hanalei Bay 1 — January: Hanalei Bay, Hawaii! Vitamin D! Lots of mai tais!

Oregon Coast March — March: Oregon coast for one of my impromptu writers retreats

See My Nightstand?

Posted on December 5, 2009 by lalber

: Book chaos as of January 2008

Oh dear. My previous post stood as my latest installment for FAR too long. As an emotional barometer, it’s misleading. Have I been morbidly depressed since October 20th? Is this why I haven’t posted?

My friends tell me to quit being so hard on myself, so this is what I did: I let it all go for awhile and just lived my life. I pondered my fiction, wondering if I should quit all together. I decided to quit, in fact. Funny thing is, I may play the I’m-quitting-fiction game, but fiction doesn’t want to quit me. In fact, I found myself applying for an artist-in-residency as well as imagining a new novel.

And, let’s face it, you know it’s time to post anew when you get this from two friends within 24 hours.

“Sometimes I read your blog and really worry about you.”

“Ooh, I read your blog, and think, Lisa’s on her way to a dark place.”

OH dear. But, see my nightstand…See see?

The Autumn of My Discontent, Revised

Posted on October 20, 2009 by lalber

Autumn Leaves

Addendum: For the first time, I’m revising one of my blog posts. It struck me a few hours after writing this post (now cut drastically) that I’ve had a tough year. If I’m a little down, well, okay. Well, not really okay, but all-righty then. I do know that I haven’t accomplished much fiction this year. I’m heartsick about this, true, and I’ve been up-and-down all year, but am I certifiably depressed? Maybe not. Maybe it’s just a mid-life crisis. I can live with that. For now.

I’m here, but not here. Writing, but not really. Keeping it together, but barely. Fighting off the gray weight takes a lot of energy. I only have so much energy to go around, so when I’m struggling mightily on that front, I, simply put, write less.

Excess brain noise fouls me up at times like this. So, when I’m sitting at my computer, page open, character ready to do her thing, somehow…I’m not sure. I have a harder time sinking into the fictional world. Each. Word. Is. Like. This. In the background, my brain-gears grind in an endless, annoying, disillusioned mutter. You know when your computer churns away on a task (you know what I’m talking about if you own a PC that’s got a virus or two or two dozen lurking within it) and slows way down? It’s like that. Kind of.

So what do I do? I keep up with as many of my writing habits as possible while dropping tasks such as housecleaning. I turn on the computer first thing in the morning. I take my laptop to coffeehouses. I think about the current project as I’m drifting to sleep and when I wake up. I remind myself that I’m a good writer and that whatever problems I’m encountering with plot or characterization or internal logic or point of view is as normal as can be, not a sign that I’m never going to get published.

(Okay, that’s more like it. Pisser of a life juncture — especially with regards to my writing progress — but I’ll hold off announcing that I’m certifiably depressed until some other time.)