Best-Selling Blank Books

By Pat Remick

I recently read about an Englishman whose self-published book is topping Amazon's UK charts. It consists of 200 blank pages beneath a cover with the title: "What Every Man Thinks About Apart from Sex."

His success at turning a gimmick into profit got me thinking about a similar blank book I could publish. Imagine the possibilities! And considering how difficult writing is, this route might be a novel approach to becoming a best-selling author.

I considered a variety of titles, eventually settling on: "What I Knew About Motherhood Before I Became a Mother."

Although I've since learned many Mom lessons the hard way, I do wish someone had warned me a bit more about motherhood, especially the stressful conversations I'd be having with my children. For example, I've threatened for years to cut off all financial support to my children if they 1) Buy a motorcycle 2) Get a tattoo and/or 3) Pierce their bodies.

So when No. 1 son-the-cop recently telephoned with the announcement that at the age of 25, he'd fulfilled his longtime dream of purchasing a motorcycle, I was speechless. Then he proceeded to detail the tattoos he'll be getting. Again, stunned silence. "Mom, Mom, are you still there?" he finally said.

"I think your mother just fainted," advised his father from the extension.

"Just kidding about the tattoos, Mom," he laughed.

This was even less funny than the startling realization that motherhood looks  different when you don't have anything to hold over your children's heads anymore. But after adjusting to the reality that my son carries a gun to work every day, I suppose a motorcycle doesn't seem so bad.

Meanwhile, No. 2 son's check-in call at the beginning of his Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge archaeology adventure as part of his college education began with, "I probably shouldn't tell you this...."

And here is where I began thinking, "Are we really going to have ANOTHER one of these conversations no one told me are part of motherhood?

"The swamp is home to the largest concentration of black bears on the East Coast," he continued. "But don't worry. We've been given lots of safety instructions."

I struggled to remain calm and offer my standard response in stressful situations (the ones where I'm screaming inside): "That's nice, dear."  But the screams in my head were getting louder, so I added, "Such as?"

"If you hear loud noises in the underbrush, be prepared to make loud noises in response," he said.
I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Then he offered: "And I probably shouldn't tell you this either, but I may get trained in using a machete."

The screams were now in danger of escaping into the atmosphere.  "Will you be able to use the machete against the three types of poisonous snakes that inhabit the swamp? Because I'm really concerned about the snakes."

"I'm not sure. But don't worry. We've had lots of safety instructions," he repeated.

Don't worry? As much as I wanted to, I didn't scream this out loud. Instead I said: "Maybe you should ask your brother if you can borrow one of his guns."

This was the moment when we both realized I'd gone over the edge: a woman who hates guns was suggesting one son get a firearm from the other. "I don't think they'll allow that, Mom. This is a university course," No. 2 son said, carefully enunciating each word as if trying to placate a crazy woman.

After I calmed down somewhat, I came up with a solution: I probably shouldn't tell you this.... but I'm ordering No. 1 son to get his gun and climb on that motorcycle I didn't want him to buy -- and drive the 3 1/2 hours south from Washington, DC, to retrieve his brother immediately.

Then I'm going to sit down and design that cover for "What I Knew About Motherhood Before I Became a Mother." I think it probably should include a motorcycle and a machete, don't you?

What would the title of your blank book be?

Books as Art

By Pat Remick

After investing so much time thinking about how to construct books, it's fascinating to see how some creative people are deconstructing them in the name of art.

Like all writers, I love books -- to read them, hold them, admire their covers, collect them, discuss them and write them. I have hundreds of books in my home but can't resist adding more or searching for new ones in bookstores.

I consider myself a true bibliophile and as such, I've been concerned this whole e-book phenomena means it won't be long before books as most of us know them will be found only in libraries, yard sales and antique shops. Or in expensive homes, all with color-coordinated redone covers, as I read about in a recent New York Times article about using books in decorating.

I recently stumbled into a handicrafts shop that displayed amazing art creations from recycled books and it was comforting to see that even if e-books are taking over the world, there are those who still appreciate the beauty of books in their traditional form.

There were purses made from book covers selling at more than $100 each, but I suspect many female mystery fans would die to own a Nancy Drew handbag like these.

Another artist turned book covers into small and large wallets, such as the Robin Hood one to the left.

There also were garlands made from creative cutouts of book pages. And a clever crafter fond of the phrases used in the Romance novel genre turned some of them into pins called "The Naughty Bits," such as "He Wanted to Punish." (I am reluctant to share the others, but suffice it to say they were titillating enough to make me blush.)

But my favorite reuse of books involved the creations of a woman identifying herself as "The Naughty Librarian" who "lives out every librarian's evil fantasy; taking paint, glue and even (gasp) A KNIFE to the precious books."

Artist and librarian Robn Delaloyle rescues and recycles unwanted books, sculpting them "into beautiful and unusual works of art" such as the three on the shelves to the left (one of which is now on my own bookshelf) and the crazy one below.

It had never occurred to me that a literary work of art could become a visual one, as well. Can anyone say the same about an e-book?

To see more examples of the creative recycling of touchable books, visit http://www.bookstruction.net/.

What's the most imaginative use of a book you've seen?

Why I write mysteries

Writing and Righting Wrongs

By Pat Remick

When a writer friend recently asked why I write mysteries instead of other forms of fiction, I realized for the first time that the reason has more to do with a young murder victim named Deborah Sue Williamson than the fictional girl detective Nancy Drew. 



Like many, I initially became intrigued by the mystery genre when I discovered the adventures of Nancy Drew and the thrill of being able to solve puzzling cases along with her. But after carefully contemplating my writer friend's question, I know my first real murder mystery had a far greater impact.



I was a young police beat reporter at a newspaper in Lubbock, Texas, when beautiful blonde newlywed Deborah Sue Williamson was brutally stabbed 17 times on August 24, 1975, and left to die inside the carport of her new home. Her husband found her body when he returned from working at the pizza restaurant he managed. Deborah Sue's wedding dress lay on the guestroom bed inside the house, and her purse was missing along with their wedding album. 

She was only 18 years old.



The murder, which remains unsolved today, shocked the West Texas city of 225,000. My editor vowed the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal would carry a front-page story every day until her killer was found. By the time he gave up almost four months later, I knew more about Deborah Sue Williamson than anyone had a right to beyond her immediate family.

For more than 35 years, her murder has haunted me. When a crazy drifter named Henry Lee Lucas confessed in the 1980s to her slaying and over 500 more – crimes he later recanted – I knew it wasn’t him. Her parents did, too, and even sold their home to finance an investigation to prove it so police would continue looking for the real killer.

And it is a grave injustice and an unspeakable tragedy that her murderer still walks free today.

I am a relative newcomer to the mystery genre, having spent decades focused on writing non-fiction articles and books. A few years ago, I decided to try writing a mystery, thinking it might be an interesting challenge and also possibly help exorcise some of the demons from my police beat days. 

As such, I was a far too frequent witness to the devastating aftermath of crime. And with each new crime story I begin and every day that I work on my coninuous-novel-in-progress, I think about Deborah Sue and the other victims. I imagine the terror they felt. I remember how desperate Deborah Sue's parents were to see the crime solved, sharing everything possible with the police and a reporter in the hope it would lead to her killer.

These tragedies never leave me. I am grateful to be able to put pieces of these heart-breaking tales into my own work, where fiction allows us to right wrongs, to make sure the killer is caught, and there is justice for the victim.

I only wish someone could do the same for Deborah Sue Williamson, her family and so many others.

Why do you write mysteries? Are you trying to right any wrongs?

"You're Free"

By Pat Remick

During the weekend, I completed my year-long presidency of the New England chapter of Sisters in Crime and my lovely parting gifts were accompanied by a card that showed an open pair of handcuffs and the words "You're Free."

While I laughed at this message, it is true. I am now FREE of a job I volunteered for that has consumed vast amounts of time over the past twelve months. Don't get me wrong -- I loved this task because of the friends I've gained, the unforgettable experiences I've enjoyed, and my great delight at seeing many of my ideas come to fruition, thanks to a supportive and hard-working board that oversees our dynamic chapter of almost 200 women and men spread over a six-state region.


MWANE President Margaret McLean and SinCNE President Me

As president, I also had the opportunity to co-chair the 9th annual New England Crime Bake for Mystery Writers and Readers with the president of the New England chapter of Mystery Writers of America as these groups co-sponsor this amazing event (and profit from it). Crime Bake sold out four months early this year and featured the incredible Charlaine Harris as Guest of Honor and a "nest" (that's Vampire-speak, I've learned) of incredible New England authors led by Dennis Lehane.  Believe me, if it weren't for SinCNE, I would never appear in public in a vampire cape and sunglasses.

The conference, as I noted in a previous posting, required a great deal of time to organize, but was a blast to be part of and an experience for which I will be forever grateful. 

My point here is that serving as President and Co-Chair was memorable, fulfilling and mostly a whole lot of fun. These volunteer positions also were a whole lot of work and consumed a great deal of my time in order to further the cause of my fellow New England authors. Because my first novel is still a Work in Progress, these jobs never were platforms for promoting my books. So what did I gain from these endeavors?

I leave knowing I did the best I could to support my fellow members of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America, both within our mystery writing community and outside of it. I made wonderful writing friends and had an opportunity to work with incredible people who also love mysteries. In sum: This past year has been a wonderful experience.

But now, it's time to move on -- and back to where I belong. The closing words of the card thanking me for my hard work and inspiration were: "Now get back to writing!" And that's what I plan to do.

But this has been my dilemma over the past year: The more time I devoted to SinCNE and Crime Bake, the less I had for my own writing. However, my thank you card reminds me that I'm "FREE" to return to it once again, with my life much richer because of my experiences.

I'm sure many of us have faced this conundrum -- wanting to support the writing community but knowing it could interfere with our own writing. Which choice did you make -- and why? 

Three Stiffs at Crime Bake

By Pat Remick

Hope no one minds that I'm jumping in here really quickly with a brief report on 3 Working Stiffs meeting up at this weekend's New England Crime Bake for Mystery Writers and Readers.



Ramona (carrying a red editor's pen), Paula in costume, and Pat in red hair extension, blood-red jewelry and vampire cape



I was there as conference co-chair, and Paula Matter and I first met outside the virtual world at last year's Crime Bake. (Paula, by the way, is now a winner of the conference's Flashwords contest two years in a row). But this year we met up with Ramona DeFelice Long, another Working Stiff, and made sure we had a photo taken before the Red and Black Banquet and Vampire Ball (in honor of fabulous Guest of Honor Charlaine Harris). Paula was dressed as -- well, what kind of monster? A writer at work.... I'll let her explain the costume but I'm sorry you can't clearly see the creepy, clear plastic mask on her back. She also needs to explain whether this really is how she dresses while she's writing!

Getting in the spirit...

By Pat Remick

I have not been visited by the ghosts of dead heroes, pets nor family members. The spirits apparently prefer to spend time with more interesting -- or receptive -- human beings. Therefore, adhering to this month's spooky theme has been a challenge.

My husband suggested writing about our Lhasa Apso (seen here in the most mysterious and ghostly photo I could manage) because legend has it these dogs were bred to guard Tibetan temples against evil spirits.

My dog does have an annoying habit of barking at the wind, but not strangers who come to the house. Perhaps I should give more credence to the possibility that he is preventing ghosts from calling on us. However, I have a difficult time viewing our happy-go-lucky Buddy as a ferocious guardian against otherworldly beings.

Next, I considered writing about what terrifies me, which would be things that could harm the people I love. Fellow New Hampshire author Jodi Picoult readily admits the themes of her best-selling books center around subjects that most frighten her and her hope that by addressing them in fiction, she can prevent these horrible things from happening. I do the same.

Then I gave a great deal of thought to what might frighten others and concluded the unusual thinking processes of people who enjoy writing about crime and murder might very well qualify as spine-chilling.

For example, Buddy and I sometimes take early morning walks through a wooded area and I often wonder if something, or someone, other than the usual forest creatures is watching and waiting to pounce. When the hair rises on the back of my neck, I become very aware that it would be easy for someone to attack, kill me and escape. (At just 18 pounds, Buddy isn't much protection -- remember, he only barks at the wind.) What's more, there are several locations that offer excellent opportunities to conceal a corpse. Believe me, I've looked.

I think that if other people knew how much time mystery writers spend thinking like this, they might find it ... well, unsettling, to say the least.

I can't even engage in recreational activities, such as attempting to climb a mountain with my spouse, without thoughts of murder and mayhem. As I complained to a National Forest Service official recently in an entry on my personal blog, "Because we're mystery writers, we also know that mountain trails provide optimum opportunities for serial killers and other wackos. If we could figure out that someone hiking without ski poles to defend themselves – and no emergency button to push – easily could be dragged off into the woods and murdered, so can they."

It is impossible for me to drive by an overgrown highway median, enjoy the view of a large body of water or even visit a historic fort surrounded by vegetation without thinking: "That would be a good place to hide a body." My husband and I often discuss ways to commit murder -- and not get caught. Reading the ingredients on household products can prompt musings about new opportunities to dispose of people and evidence. An intriguing news story can trigger imaginative and macabre discussions of "what if....?"

Normal people might find these traits peculiar at best -- and possibly even horrifying. But I consider them just part of "getting in the spirit." How about you?

My Kids Think I'm ... Nuts

Since Wilfred can't post, I'm going to jump in here in hopes I can offer a Monday morning laugh...
(Warning: Intimate body parts will be discussed!!)

By Pat Remick

In my never-ending quest to continue being a good mother beyond the time my children apparently need me to do so, I apparently stepped over the line recently and I'm now worried that it could lead to years of therapy for each of them. Here's an area where I may need some "new beginnings," if that's our theme this month...

It all began when I recently attended a health fair and spotted some nifty little placards to hang in the shower that illustrate how to check for testicular cancer -- and keep track of the monthly examination. As one who never passes up an opportunity to send helpful information to my children, either through the mail or via Internet -- and whether they need it or not -- I snagged two of the cards and mailed one off to each son with a note that said "I know you think I'm 'nuts,' but I care about your health."

To my surprise, there was no acknowledgement of this latest Mom effort. Finally I asked No. 2 son if he had received the item as it was included in the same envelope as a check he needed to take to the college financial affairs office and a grocery store gift certificate.

"Oh my God," he spluttered. "Yes, I got it. Did you forget I share a bathroom with seven other people?"

Whoops. This had not occurred to me. "Oh, I'm so sorry, did I embarrass you?"

"Yes, you embarrassed me. But then I thought, it's just my crazy mother again," he said. "But how would you like it, Mom, if I sent you something that told you how to check for breast cancer and wrote a note that said, 'maybe you think I'm being a boob...'?"

I carefully considered the best way to answer. Finally I said, "I would think that you loved me very much -- and cared about my health."

"GRRRRR....." was his response.

A few days later I asked No. 1 son, who works an 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. shift, if he had read the article I sent about avoiding drowsy driving in the same envelope as his placard. "No, because when I opened the envelope and saw the cancer of the testicles thing, I stopped reading and threw it away."

"You didn't even look at it?" I whined. "I was only thinking of your health."

"Not only did I not read it," he said in an abrupt tone of voice. "We will never speak of this again."

Whoops again, I guess I just did. It occurs to me that this incident might make a good addition to ongoing list of ways I've embarrassed my children. So all you parents out there, I'd certainly appreciate it if you'd let me know I'm not alone.....

"How's our novel coming?"

By Pat Remick

There are times when I wish I’d never told anyone that I’m working on a novel. Those days inevitably come when someone says “How’s the writing coming?” or “Oh, I thought you’d already finished that book.”

Then there's the woman who pays a weekly visit to my office and asks "How's our novel coming?" On the few occasions when I've explained where I am in the process, her eyes glazed over. So now I just say, "fine" and once again kick myself for revealing a Work in Progress exists -- then kick myself harder for not finishing it yet.

I realize people are just being nice, showing an interest. But I also wonder if they think writing fiction is easy. Sometimes they say things like “I’m going to write a book someday” or “I thought I'd write a novel this summer.” Well, good for them. And good luck.

They'll soon learn what we know: writing is really, really hard. There's a saying on my desk that begins with “Writing is easy...” but the next part is: “All you do is stare at a blank piece of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.” Some days that’s pretty close to the truth.
 
Sure, there are times when the words flow onto the paper like melted chocolate. And yes, there are instances when the characters and plots reveal themselves on the page as if they have come from somewhere outside our imaginations Those are the magical days, to be sure.
 
To have more of those magical days, we need to be available, butt in chair (BIC) in front of the computer. I don't mean to whine but, as you know, real life can interfere with writing. Do I need to explain to people asking about my book that obligations like showing up at my job or sweeping the floor more than once a month reduces the amount of time available to work on a novel? 

I believe the ability to write is a gift. However, having so many stories and characters inside my head -- all begging to get out--can feel like a curse. It's the same affliction that prompted me to start writing a novel and pushes me to wake up early to write before work every day. I never mention this sickness to the people who ask about my book.

But when I DO finally finish my novel, will I be cured?

Drumroll, please....

by Jennie Bentley

The results are in for the first part of the Flash Fiction contest, better known as The Guessing Game. The other part, where you, gentle readers, post your own 200 word stories, starting with the sentence, “If you have to die, February is the best month for it,” in the comments section of a certain post you’ll find if you look to the right of this... that’s still ongoing. At the end of February, Wilfred Bereswill is graciously giving away a copy of his book, “A Reason for Dying,” to the guest story determined to be the best of the bunch.

This time around, the prize is one of my DIY books: “Fatal Fixer-Upper,” “Spackled and Spooked,” or “Plaster and Poison,” or an advanced reader copy of “A Cutthroat Business,” first in the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries.

You know, I had no idea when we started this that it would be so hard to match stiffs to stories. I figured everyone would get at least me and Will and John Lutz matched correctly, since our work is readily available even if you’re not familiar with it already. Imagine my surprise when no one – and I do mean no one – guessed that I wrote #2.

Yes, folks, the male POV 3rd person science fiction piece is mine. I figured if I wrote first person female like I always do, you’d know right off the bat that I wrote it. So I decided to be devious. Even so, to me, it still screams in my voice, loud and clear. The sentence structure, the rhythm, the flow... Yet even Will – whom all of you; every single person – thought had written it, told me that he if he didn’t know which entry was his, he’d have thought he wrote mine.

I’m going to take that as a huge compliment, y’all. Little old girly-girl me wrote male POV well enough to fool everybody!

Here’s the actual rundown of who wrote what:


1. Will
2. Jennie
3. Joyce
4. Gina
5. John Lutz
6. Pat R.


Nobody got’em all right. A few of you got a few. The person with the most matches, interestingly enough, was someone who doesn’t know any of us: Kris the Cajun Book Lady! Congratulations, Kris. Email me or DM me with your address and your choice of reading material, and I’ll get a book in the mail to you!

Thanks for playing, everyone! And don’t forget to post your 200 word Flash Fic pieces in the appropriate place for a chance to win “A Reason for Dying.”

Where Do Your Stories Come From -- Part 2

In Monday's blog "Virtually There," Gina Sestak asked the question: "Where do your stories come from?" Here's one man's answer:

By Frank Cook

Invariably when I go to writer conferences like the New England Crime Bake (Nov. 13-15 in Dedham, MA, with Sue Grafton as this year's guest of honor), one of the most frequently asked questions is “where do you get your ideas?”

And invariably the author’s answer almost always has something to do with some soaring experience or the depth of their soul. Some build their stories around a character they conjure, others fashion them after a recent event.

Those aren’t the answers I’m looking for. When I ask, “Where do you get your ideas,” I literally mean “where are you when you get your ideas?” Are you at the grocery store? In the shower? At the gym?

Whenever I write fiction, I start with the scene. I don’t start with “the character” or “the event.” I start with the surroundings.

The idea for my short story “Liberty” (Seasmoke anthology, Level Best Books) came to me while I walked my dog around my neighborhood. The triggering thoughts were, “What kind of crime could be committed here?” “If a criminal was doing exactly what I’m doing, what kind of crime would he commit?”

Since then, I’ve found that approach has worked time and again. After attending a few author readings at my favorite book store (RiverRun in Portsmouth), I started mulling, “what kind of crime could be committed here?” That question led to “The Greatest Criminal Mind Ever,” which will be published this November in "Quarry: Crime Stories by New England Writers."

Likewise, a spring morning and the annual ritual of cleaning out the basement led to frequent trips to the local recycling center. Those trips ultimately led to the story, “The dump at the Dump.”

My wife Pat Remick’s award-winning story “Mercy 101” (Still Waters anthology, Level Best Books), came from her frequent commutes on Highway 101 from Portsmouth to the state capital in Concord.

Again, first came the scene. Second, came the crime. After that, it’s matter populating the plot with the right characters.

The point here is that story ideas need not come from some grand place or exotic situation. Entertaining ideas come from the most mundane places. And let’s face it, we’ve all considered writing, “Murder at the DMV.”

But, awkwardly transitioning back to where I started, one of the great things about going to Crime Bake is listening to other authors talk about where they get their ideas and, of course, listening to experts suggest how to carry them out.

I have listened to Jeremiah Healy discuss the best way to stab people without getting blood on yourself, and I have learned as Chuck Hogan (Prince of Thieves) taught me how to rob banks. And I have been relieved to hear poison lady Luci Zahray assure, “Don’t worry, coroners almost never test for these things.”

It occurred to me then that the greatest criminal minds in New England aren’t in prison. They’re at Crime Bake.

It also occurred to me that the local SWAT team probably had the building surrounded.

Frank Cook is a short story writer, real estate and business journalist, professional development book author, a longtime mystery fan currently working on two crime novels, and the long-suffering husband of Working Stiffs blogger Pat Remick.

Inauguration Day

By Pat Remick, guest blogger

For many people, today’s historic inauguration of Barack Obama is personal. I count myself among them.


I’m from New Hampshire. We have a law requiring our presidential primary to be the first in the nation. That’s why every candidate wants our votes – and wants ‘em bad – even though NH’s population is smaller than most large cities, including Philadelphia.

I’ve spoken with our new president in person three times, including the day he virtually put me in a headlock on the sidewalk. We’ve also chatted by phone. I attended his rallies, volunteered for his campaign and housed his supporters. One son is at the inauguration today while the other remains on police cadet inauguration alert.

So today is very personal for me. I would have made the pilgrimage to DC, too, if it wasn’t for my great aversion to port-a-potties. I’m also not fond of standing in the cold for endless hours surrounded by record-sized crowds, especially when the view on my 22-inch TV will be the same as the Jumbotron screens they’re watching.

Nonetheless, there won’t be any mystery writing, or much other work, done today as I join millions across our nation and around the world in observing this momentous occasion from afar.

When Barack Obama solemnly raises his hand to take the oath of office, I will rejoice not only for him, but also for what this day means for America. No matter what your politics might be, today should prove that anyone -- including a biracial man raised by a single mother from Kansas – truly can be president.

When I first met Barack Obama on a cold December day in 2006, he was ostensibly promoting his new book, “The Audacity of Hope.” During his “reading” (what the politicos called that initial pre-presidential primary foray into frigid and 97 percent white New Hampshire), he spoke of his belief that although it can be more difficult to remain hopeful, especially in the face of difficulty and uncertainty, it was time to end to the partisan politics dividing our country.

As he spoke, he nervously moved one foot back and forth behind the podium he was gripping as he faced a curious crowd. On a similar snowy day one year later, there were no such signs of unease as he, wife Michelle and Oprah Winfrey electrified a crowd of 8,500 in the largest political rally in NH history.

He returned to New Hampshire many times during the campaign, as did several of his opponents. The story about the NH voter who was asked if he liked a certain candidate and responded: “I don’t know – I’ve only met him three times” is no joke for many of us.

When I unexpectedly encountered Obama during a campaign stroll, I confronted him about my inability to make contact for a story I was working on for the AARP Bulletin. At one point during the tirade, he put his arm around my neck and turned me toward the cameras chronicling his every step. It felt like a headlock and I wondered if he was restraining me because the Secret Service hadn’t. But he promised he would call me and a week later, we chatted for five minutes about caring for older relatives.Months later, Annie from Wisconsin and Tommy from Maryland arrived on our doorstep to work for him and progressive causes in the general campaign. They were amazed at the amount of contact we’d had with a man they’d never met, but had willingly left their homes and jobs for in order to spend 18-hour days canvassing in an unfamiliar state and sleeping in a stranger’s house. I suspect they’re too ecstatic to feel the cold in Washington as they watch the swearing-in today.

After all, it’s personal for them, too. How about you?


When she’s not meeting presidential candidates, Pat Remick is an award-winning mystery and non-fiction author. Visit her “It’s All Novel Material” blog at http://patremick.blogspot.com/ or her web site at www.PatRemick.com.