Mystery Writing Is Murder: Crime Caper Novelist Bob Sanchez Talks about Writing

Today I’d like to welcome Bob Sanchez to the blog. Bob, a retired technical writer, has published two novels, When Pigs Fly and Getting Lucky. 
 
Elizabeth asked me for a post on revising—not necessarily how to do it, but how I do it. Writing and revising aren’t separate processes, but are closely bound together. Revising is writing. Before my fingers first hit the keyboard, a debate begins in my head about where to start. That doesn’t last long, because finding the right beginning and ending aren’t essential yet. It’s really okay to begin anywhere.

The complete essay here at Mystery Writing Is Murder.

More about Bob -- His blog. Bob also is the webmaster and frequent reviewer for the Internet Review of Books.

The Coen Brothers, Beer, and Other Things

I've read From Beer to Maternity to review for The Internet Review of Books, and I was able to secure an email interview with the book's author, Maggie Lamond Simone to be featured in conjunction with the review.

How can anyone interview a humor writer without discussing "What's funny?" With that the conversation turned to types of humor, which in turn led us to the Coen Brothers and their films, particularly Raising Arizona.

All this bubbled up again this morning when I heard a report from Mike Evans on our local radio station, KGBX that the Coens are remaking the classic western, True Grit.

That film is a favorite, based on the novel of the same name by Charles Portis. And therein is a line we use often around our house when someone seems a bit overambitious. 

I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.

True Grit is one of those books, fiction it's true, that celebrates the western ethos in a way that makes a reader wish it had been so. Jeff Bridges is supposed to be the Coens' choice for the Rooster Cogburn (John Wayne) part, which makes the prospective production even more interesting.

Publicizing a Book Is a Neverending Story

Gary Presley – Author Interview

by Cathy Stucker
What is your most recent book? Tell us a bit about it.

My memoir, Seven Wheelchairs: A Life beyond Polio, was recently published by The University of Iowa Press. I had had experience writing and publishing creative nonfiction essays, and I attempted a memoir only because fellow writers who had read my pieces about living with a disability in American society gave them insight into a different world. I have used a wheelchair since people with disabilities were considered “invalids” and “shut-ins” and denied access to education and employment through the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, the most significant civil rights legislation for people with disabilities.

Read the complete interview here.

Year of the Dog, VII: "I Wanna Be Cesar Milan!"

I've never been around a pack of dogs before. I've had one dog. I've had two. But with the arrival of Daisy the Boxer, we apparently are now an official pack.

There's a definite pack dynamic. Kitty the Boston is leader, unless she is approached by my wife or me. If so, she immediately exposes her belly, the classic submissive pose. Daisy has moved to second rank, and Doc the Boston boy has been demoted to third. Doc is resentful of his demotion, however. He has taken to marking the spots where Daisy displays her lack of complete housebreaking.

The dynamic is most visible when I feed the three. I feed Daisy in the kitchen. I feed Doc and Kitty in the bathroom. (I love tile floors.)  Daisy will leave her dish half-finished. She moves to drive Doc away from his food, unless I am there block the door. If I stop her, she will wait until I allow her into the bathroom to check Doc's dish before returning to finish her own food.

The food dynamic between Doc and Kitty is different yet. I cannot place their dishes too close together without sparks flying, but they otherwise they are content to eat in peace until Doc finishes his dish, which he invariably does first. At that time, he will stand as close as possible to Kitty's dish and stare at her. The result? Kitty's mothering eventually gene kicks in, and she allows him the last few bites.

Lately I've permitted Daisy access to the bathroom when Doc and Kitty are eating. I use my voice and a small stick to keep her away from Doc. (Note #1: Daisy will not attempt to drive Kitty from her food.) (Note #2: For PETA members, I do not hit or beat Daisy with the stick; I simply hold it in front of her, touch her lightly, and say "Back!")  

Daisy learned to sit at about 12 weeks; she learned "Wait" a few days later; now that other training is kicking it, I thought it time to attempt to shape pack dynamics the three apparently aren't able to sort out among themselves without tooth and fang.

An example of that relatively nonviolent process is displayed in how the three move through the door to the outdoors. Kitty goes first. Daisy stands back three or four feet until Kitty is outside. Doc sits and waits until Daisy exits, and then he ventures out.

The Dangers of Stupidity

Kenny at The Traveling Wheelchair sent me a story that reminded me of two things.

1. People with disabilities are too often at the mercy of patronizing entities that fail in their responsibility to provide proper service.
2. That there is a difference in being stupid, and responsible for yourself, and in being subject to another person's stupidity.

The wheelchair restraint story reminded me of an ugly incident here in Missouri that occurred several years ago. Attendants assisting a paralyzed person in taking shower helped him into the shower, turned on the water, and left for reasons I cannot remember. What I can remember is that is that the attendants had misjudged the water temperature settings, and the man was scalded. He eventually died of the injury.

The wheelchair restraint story also reminded me that I rode around for years in my personal van without proper restraints. In fact, I may still be doing so. My first restraints were none. I simply braced myself behind the front seats. My second set consisted on a pair of recessed tracks cut into the van's floor, a series of bungee cords, and one of the van's seat belts across my lap. My present restraint "system" consists of two sets of the van's seat belts, one for the wheelchair itself, and the other for me (to keep me in the wheelchair). The clip ends are bolted onto the frame of my power chair; the open ends are the original bolt devices attached to the van frame. To visualize this imagine two of the van's center seats removed, and all those wonderful seat belt systems waiting to be re-employed.

Most modern, commercially made restraint systems consist of wheel lock-downs augmented by a bar system across the lap of the wheelchair. At least, that's the system I remember in the commercial van used to transport people around Graceland.

I can remember when seatbelts became common on vehicles, and one of the analogies for their use was the comparison of a pea in a can. This, of course, was predicated on the idea of "the can" not coming open and flinging the pea out.

If a person rides about in a 250-pound wheelchair, I suppose the analogy is more like a lead bullet in a can.

I may add another seatbelt to protect myself from my own stupidity. I wish I could do something to protect myself from other people's stupidities.

Now Appearing on The Internet Review of Books

Read the great reviews of Fiction and serious Nonfiction here.

INTERESTING TIMES:
Writings from a Turbulent Decade
By George Packer
411 pp Farrar, Straus, and Giroux $28.00

A wise man once said, “American exceptionalism has pervaded U.S. politics since 1776.” George Packer analyzes that thought in Interesting Times, a collection of essays which have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, The Boston Globe, Dissent, and Mother Jones. Packer bookends his ruminations with the two signal events of the naughts: the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in 2001, and the election of Barack Obama in 2008.

Read the complete Brief here.

Grandma Moses and Robert E. Smith

Image linked from Robert Eugene Smith blogspot.

I've often said I'd like to a be a "Grandma Moses" of writing. I have the "late in life" start down, but I probably will never be celebrated with a Life Magazine article.

A painter in the style of Grandma Moses died in Springfield, Missouri over the weekend, Robert E. Smith. But Smith, whose primitives appeared Moses-like, also had a playful air about his life and work.

From The Springfield News-Leader:

Smith was known as a folk -- or "outsider" -- artist because he did not have classical training. His work has been displayed in many exhibitions, including in New York and Chicago.


Crigger said an exhibition of Smith's work at MSU in 2007 was the most attended exhibit that gallery has ever had.


"He did not just paint paintings," Crigger said. "He also painted objects, such as tables, chairs and TVs."


Crigger said Smith once was trying to sell an old black and white television "at garage sale prices" and could not get anyone to take it. Crigger said he suggested that Smith paint it.


"He painted it, and the artwork had a whole story behind it and I think it sold for several hundred dollars," Crigger said.

I'm not one much for nonrepresentational art. I have no luck deciphering Pollock. Conversely, not every painting needs to be a Norman Rockwell clone. Smith's work -- its free-spirited, child-like quality -- may not come to be considered great classic art, but it displayed a wonderful artistic integrity.

They're the Chinese Eight Cents on the Dollar for Your Bonja!

I stopped wearing a wrist watch a month or two ago. I cannot say why exactly. The little rectangular Seiko did catch on the edge of my laptop, it's true. And there are clocks everywhere -- on the wall, on the computer itself, on a shelf underneath the stereo. That one notes presently that it is 72-degrees Fahrenheit with 24% humidity in this, a bonus.

But I've always been somewhat obsessive about time, even waking up in the middle of the night to check the bedside clock. This came to mind -- and the fact I once saved up money to buy a Bulova Accutron watch -- when I read Roger Cohen's column in The New York Times, "The World's Watchmaker.

Tommy Hilfiger, Jennifer Lopez, Coach, Titan, Trump — name the brand and Leung is manufacturing their watches in China’s southern Guangdong Province, the place that is now the world’s factory.


Leung was wearing a great hulk of a watch called a Bonja. It’s big in Gulf states, where it retails for about $4,000. Leung told me he’s paid $200 for this model and that leaves him a comfortable margin. For Juicy Couture watches that retail in New York for $95, he gets eight dollars. He’s still making money on that. In general he receives about 8 percent of the retail price, or about 40 bucks for a $495 Lacoste watch.

I think I paid $105 for an Accutron about 30 or 35 years ago. That Bulova was trendy, and the commercial -- one man leaning over to adjust another person's watch on a commuter train -- apparently meant that I could finally know the exact time.

 Until I could afford a Rolex.

But now my cell phone keeps better time than either of the Accutron's I had, which were somewhat fragile devices. And I always keep my cell phone in my pocket. And it lights up so that I can read it at night.

And I'm trying very hard not to be obsessively interested in the concept of time, or rather What time is it, I wonder. Perhaps it has to do with growing older. Perhaps one day I'll stop thinking Hey, I forgot to put on my watch.

*image linked from Wikipedia

Now Appearing on Selling Books

Critiquing Coffee and Donuts – Online Critique Groups

I love those little donuts covered with powdered sugar, but I don’t want to be cleaning their dust off my blue jeans when I’m taking part in a critique session. That sort of thing happens during the let’s-have-coffee-and-chat break at the average face-to-face critique group for writers, doesn’t it?

I prefer an on-line critique group. All right, I confess. My computer keyboard has crumbs in it. My preference for donuts isn’t the only reason I don’t participate in a face-to-face group. I could list a dozen, but my mouth’s full at the moment. Let me quote a group of writers who participate in my favorite on-line organization — The Internet Writing Workshop .

* “I can drop in on a discussion any time of day or night. It’s not like a face-to-face group where you have a scheduled time and place, then have limited time to critique and be critiqued.”
* “You meet people from all over the world who share their writing experience and training.”
* “On-line suits my peripatetic lifestyle. With the advent of lap tops and wi-fi I can read and write wherever and stay in touch forever. “
* “It is as anonymous as you wish it to be. Share only as much of who you are as you feel comfortable doing.”
* “You don’t have to dress up to participate, nor do you have to worry about the traffic to reach the group on time.”

The IWW operates via email. It’s comprised of multiple critique lists — fiction, nonfiction, novels, poetry, prose, young adult, practice, and teen writing — plus a general list discussing writing. The genre lists generally are restricted to submission and critique postings only and have participation requirements.

The IWW is not fee-based. Instead it operates by a practical application of the Golden Rule. Offer plenty of critiques, offer your best critiques, and you’ll find your submissions receive intelligent, thoughtful critiques.

Additionally, it operates under the auspices of efficient and effective moderators. The supervision isn’t overbearing, but flamers are booted immediately and lurkers are removed.

The IWW is one of the more prominent and professional organizations on the Internet. And it can boast a list of participants who have had significant publishing success. Few of us can write without learning from authentic and productive criticism. The IWW is where I find writers who will tell me the truth about the quality of my work.

You can find details about The Internet Writing Workshop here:

The "Vegetative State" That Isn't

Image linked from The New York Times story

Perhaps the ugliest public fight over a comatose person was that surrounding Terri Schiavo. No one wanted to see politicians from Bush on down, and across the spectrum, use her, but it still surprises me that very few people comprehended that she was to be starved to death if her husband's wishes were implemented. I do not know what I would do if a person I loved, or for whom I had responsibility, were to become comatose and (apparently) unresponsive. I do know that I would not without food or water.

The Schiavo debacle is in the news again because of a recent study, Willful Modulation of Brain Activity in Disorders of Consciousness, in The New England Journal of Medicine as translated for popular consumption by The New York Times and The Washington Post, among other venues.

I've participated in a list of media activists who speak out on disability in society for perhaps a dozen years. One of the members who have, to use a phrase from the 1960s, "raised my consciousness" about disability is William Loughborough. He spoke out this morning about this study.

The claim that Terri Schiavo´s case didn´t fit in with the new information might well also be as wrong as the "diagnosis" itself has been shown to be - 40% misdiagnosis rate.

Skip the "medical model" please. We are clients, not patients and our disabilities are better "dealt with" than "cured".

From the Post article: "In some cases, the damage to the brain is so severe that it is simply inconceivable they could produce any responses," Owen said.

Of course this self'-fulfilling prophecy is what allowed them to be only slightly better than chance when they made the "diagnosis" - the science shows them how things that were "inconceivable" become routine but meanwhile they ignore the fact that Terri Schiavo was responsive as evidenced in video clips. We are people of diversity, not "patients" and our human rights are being trampled by continuation of the totally discredited "medical model".

While the NEJM has a scientific tone, there is much of "The Other" in both of the news reports, which reveals itself in quotes like this one from the Post article.

"If a patient wanted to die, if they were asked, 'Do you want to die?,' could they explain themselves adequately?" said Joseph J. Fins, chief of the division of medical ethics at Weill Cornell Medical College. "If they say yes, what does that mean? If this person said yes but meant maybe, or it was 'sort of yes,' we may not be able to understand that sort of nuance. You have to be very careful."

Such an attitude reveals projection of the doctor's attitude toward disability, which does not bode well for his interaction with the patient or with those who are making decisions.

Year of the Dog, VI: Pack Dynamics

We have two adult Boston terriers who have seniority in this house. Daisy the Boxer is the junior member of the pack. My wife is big on "pack theory," and when anything upsets the dynamics of the household -- anything, that is, involving the dogs, she says "You've got to remember they're pack animals."

This applies whether the dogs are sorting out their place on the bed, who gets a treat first, or who goes first out the door. And the leader of the pack is Kitty, the older female Boston. Daisy will not go through a door until Kitty has led. Daisy will not lay upon the worn afghan thrown on the floor in my sitting room unless Kitty allows her to do so. Daisy will, however, drive Doc from his food dish and take his meal.

Kitty has never done that. In fact, Kitty often allows Doc to finish her meal. He will not take it from her. He simply finishes first, moves to her dish, and stands close by until her apparent mother-instinct kicks in, whereupon she moves away and allows him to clean her dish.

Daisy will finish her meal -- three cups or more -- and then, if allowed, rush to where Doc is eating and simply drive him away from his dish. I can feed Doc and Kitty together, but now I must feed Daisy in a separate area, and then block her access to Doc.

But Daisy makes no attempt to drive Kitty from her dish. I know there is something other than physical force involved. There's growling and snarling, obviously. But I cannot hear nothing distinctive in Kitty's growl that might dissuade Daisy from attempting to annex Kitty's food. Both Bostons weigh around 20 pounds and stand perhaps 12 to 14 inches at the shoulder. Daisy weighs close to 30 pounds now, and she's almost twice as tall.

It's interesting to observe, this sorting out of who is the leader, who controls the food. It's interesting to see that the dynamic continues outdoors. Kitty leads. The other two follow. Oddly though, we have been able, at least so far, to keep Daisy from following Kitty's lead when strangers approach. Kitty hates intruders, friendly or otherwise. Daisy, conversely, greets everyone happily, eager to be petted and praised.

And that's easier on us human members of the pack.

Year of the Dog, V: Can Boxers Be House Trained?

We are beginning to doubt it, and we are saved from flights of cursing only by our long-term (and pre-Boxer) plans to remove carpet from the lower floors of our house. Carpet mixes poorly with wheelchairs, and so we knew it would be perhaps only a year before the carpet here began to show ugly wear.

But Daisy, the Boxer, is inordinately difficult to housebreak. We have finally arrived at the stage where she seems ashamed of her misdeeds. When the offending mark is pointed out with a "Bad Daisy, bad girl!" she attempts to hide (ostrich-like, since she's too big to crawl completely beneath it) under the bed.

Boxer afficiandos say "You cannot housebreak them until they're five or six months old." Daisy turns six months today.

Another Boxer owner said, "Put a bell on the door. Boxers are fascinated with bells." We have a bell on the door, but we still have wet spots on the carpet.

The oddity is that Daisy will whine at night, knowing that she'll be let out to do her business (and receive her treat). I've taken to letting her out each time she makes a noise during the day, and of course, praising her extensively and treating her royally post-bladder-void.

We had her spayed last week. Perhaps that will change her metabolism for the better.