Unbelievable Characters

Authors create characters sometimes based on people they've known and sometimes out of their imagination. During the course of the story the reader learns not only what they look like, but some of their background, likes, dislikes and motivations. It drives me crazy when I get to the end of the book and I have to ask myself why that character chose an illogical course of action.

I just finished reading a romantic suspense by a popular author. One of the main characters was a totally selfish woman who slept with her sister's boyfriend,stole other women's husbands and was so totally focused on her career as TV personality that she staged a kidnapping just to up her ratings. When another women is killed, her only concern is how it will affect her. Okay, I buy all that. Then somewhere near the end the author throws in that years ago the woman became pregnant, went somewhere to have the baby and gave it away because a child would be a detriment to her career. I have to ask myself, why didn't she have an abortion? It's not like this woman valued life. Someone obsessed with her physical ability to attract men wouldn't go through nine months of pregnancy. The author gives us no reason, no explanation for this.

The only thing I can come up with is that the author threw it in to make the story go where she wanted. It isn't the first time I've noticed an author sacrifice the believability of a character for the plot line.  Isn't this something the story editor should catch?

Authors, if you have one of your characters do something alien to the motivations you've created, at least give us a plausible reason, some temporary change of heart or possibly a fragment of back story to explain their actions.

More Information Than I Need

I read a lot, three or four books a week. I like the escapism of fiction. I enjoy learning about other places and things as long as it's woven into the story line. I've noticed recently that more and more authors are filling pages by telling me everything they've researched on a particular topic, or describing in detail a place that has no particular relevance to the story.

Now if I'm reading science fiction or fantasy and the author has created a whole new world, then the description is necessary. However, if I'm reading a mystery, I don't need to know what the police station or autopsy room look like other than in general terms as the characters move about. I don't need  to know exactly how the autopsy is conducted or the detailed scientific analysis that went in to determining the information derived from those procedures. Tell me the outcomes and skip the long mind numbing scientific explanations.

I also don't need a history lesson on the buildings or city the characters are in unless it's important to the story.  More and more I find myself skipping several pages of irrelevant information just to get back to the action.

It's got me wondering whether it's me. Have I've just gotten impatient as I've grown older or have readers changed, insisting that every book have something of substance in them to be worth their time?

Here's to a Great New Year.

Story update: Neither of my Christmas stories made the Las Vegas Review Journal.

Moving on to 2013. There's no way I'm rehashing 2012. While I had a number of successes (all three of my books are now in print, I started three new novels and I lost thirty pounds) I see no point in reviewing the things I didn't do. I don't even like reading or listening to the news outlets do the year in review.

First  2013 goal: Turn all three of my novels into audio books. My husband bought me a microphone headset for Christmas and today I downloaded some free software. Now I have to learn how to use it. As with everything else I've tried, it isn't as easy as they make it sound. While recording the prologue to The Crystal's Curse, I stumbled over words, mispronounced names and had gaps where there shouldn't be gaps. In addition, you could hear the dog barking outside in the background. I could rerecord it, but instead I am using it to learn how to edit an audio file. 

Why you may ask would I want to make audio books? Certainly not because I expect to make money from them. No, the real reason is simply because it's a challenge, something I haven't done before. If I happen to sell a few, that's just icing on the cake. Also, my son told me the reason he hasn't read the manuscript I gave them is because most of his reading is done by listening to audio books while driving his truck on the job. With four small children at home, he simply doesn't have time in his off hours. So, when I present him with a CD he will have no excuse. By now you'd think he'd know better than to try and thwart his mother.

Second 2013 goal: Finish writing the three books I started this year. I've already written eight chapters on the new mystery again featuring Valerie and Detective Delgado. I have also got two chapters written on a sequel to The Crystal's Curse and three chapters of a paranormal romance.

There are several other things I'd like to do, like lose another twenty pounds, but since I'm having enough trouble keeping the thirty off, I think it's highly unlikely. I'd like to take another trip to Europe. However, unless there's a surge in the economy which causes my stocks to add money to my dwindling 401K, it isn't going to happen. I don't think I'll hold my breath. So I'll stick with the only two that have a reasonable chance of success.

Story Contest

Okay here's another story for the RJ contest. Let me know which one you like best. Remember, they have to be under 300 words, so you have to leave some things to the imagination.

Christmas Memories

 

As a single person without family, I found the Christmas season depressing. Spending it in Las Vegas this year seemed like the perfect solution, no snow, incessant Christmas music, or bell-ringing Santas. I sighed in relief as I stepped out of the terminal into brilliant sunshine.

 However, as I walked down the strip, I realized that even here there was no escape. Holiday displays decorated every hotel. One had an animated scene with a jolly Santa filling stockings while his reindeer pranced nearby, another a depiction of the Twelve Days of Christmas, including a singing partridge, and lords a leaping. Even outside street performers dressed as Dickens characters sang, while a man yelled humbug.

 I sank down on a bus stop bench, put my head in my hands, and quietly sobbed. Memories I kept at bay most of the year overwhelmed me, Christmas the year Dani turned four, how her eyes sparkled when we lit the tree and how she grinned when Joe lifted her up to place the star on top. She’d laughed when Joe grabbed a handful of tinsel and threw it. Later he’d kissed me under the mistletoe. Now she and Joe were gone and I had nothing left but painful memories.

  I felt a small hand pat my knee. “Don’t be sad,” said a curly-headed boy, not more than three or four.

 A good-looking man rushed over and scooped up the child. “Joshua, you scared me.” He looked at me. “I know you. I’ve seen you in Starbucks.”

 “And you sit in the corner with the batman logo laptop.”

 “She’s sad, Dad, she needs chocolate. Dad says chocolate makes everything better.”

 For the first time in months, I laughed. “Your father is a very wise man.”

 Joshua’s father held out his hand. “Join us.”

Christmas Story Contest

The RJ is having a contest to write a Christmas story. It can't be more than 300 words and you have to use the words, reindeer, jolly, wise men, Dickens, humbug, partridge, star, bell, mistletoe, tinsel, inn and stocking.  Here's my first attempt. I'd really like your feedback.
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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as I walked through the Christmas display near the entrance of the Royal Hotel and Casino.

 “What’s wrong?” Charlene said, the bells dangling from her ears tinkled as she swung her head to face me. Charlene Partridege loved Christmas. She put up the office tree topped with a blinking star and hung a stocking on each desk even before Thanksgiving. She set a tiny nativity scene on her desk complete with wisemen and shepperds. I drew the line when she tried to hang mistletoe from my door. She’d even suggested the entire office staff dress up in costumes from Dicken’s Christmas Carol. As the director, I squashed that idea immediately. I had a feeling I knew which role she’d envisioned for me and, although I admit I wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, I had no intention of going around saying bah humbug every few minutes.

  “Santa’s workshop in a casino? Please tell me they didn’t dress up the cocktail waitresses as Santa’s helpers this year.”

 “I think they look adorable.”

 I rolled my eyes. I didn’t see a jolly Santa on a throne, but off to the side of the workshop sat a giant sleigh and eight huge reindeer on a snow-covered platform surrounded by Christmas trees. Wrapped presents of all sizes and shapes spilled from a red bag. A long line of people wound around the display. I watched as each one handed an elf a wrapped package.

 Charlene walked over and picked up one of the gifts. “See, each one has name on it. Thanks to our employees and customers there won’t be one child in this town that doesn’t have at least one gift this Christmas.”

  I felt it then—the true spirit of Christmas. For the children of Tinsel town we had room at the inn.

 

The Art of Being Happy

My life hasn't been perfect, but other than erasing a few really stupid things I did when I was younger, I wouldn't change it. One of the things I've learned is that it takes a whole lot of energy to be sad, but very little to be happy.

When I took out the trash a few minute ago,  the sun was shining. Warm air caressed my nose and my arms and I felt happy. Happiness can be as simple as basking in the sunshine for just a few minutes, holding a new baby, reconnecting with an old friend, or taking a nap with my husband. It's lunch with my mom and daughter, a text from a grandchild, or hearing a baby laugh. It's taking a moment to enjoy a clean house even if I know it won't stay that way for more than five minutes. It's the smell of clothes straight from the dryer, or fresh baked bread.

Sometimes it's the feeling of satisfaction I get when I work hard, such as losing a few pounds, finishing writing a chapter on my new book, taking a dinner in to a neighbor or even pulling weeds from my flower beds. Or it can be as easy as running my car through a car wash, eating out at a new restaurant, or settling in my easy chair to watch my favorite TV program.

Unlike sadness which can linger, happiness is fleeting, usually experienced in single moments. The art of being happy is taking the time to savor those moments.

Motivation

I'm basically a lazy person who'd rather sit around all day, read books and graze in the refrigerator. I constantly have to look for ways to motivate myself. When the kids were young, all my time was taken up just taking care of them. Kids have their own way of motivating you to put food on the table and since Pampers weren't around, not doing laundry wasn't an option. It only took watching the baby put something from the floor in his mouth or picking him up and seeing dirt on his hands and knees to spur me to sweep and mop.

Then they went to school and for the first time I had time on my hands. I still had chores that needed to be done, but no impending disaster if I let them slide.  I knew people who had routines, something scheduled for each day of the week. You know, Monday was laundry day, etc. Didn't work for me. I'd find myself putting off the laundry just because it was Monday.I did, however, find creative ways to motivate myself. For instance, if my house needed a good cleaning, I invited girlfriends over for lunch. Since there was no way I'd let them see my house dirty, I'd work like a fiend getting everything spic and span.

Later I went to work and since there was no way I could do everything in the few hours I was home, I enlisted the kids. I even had a work chart for each day of the week posted on the refrigerator. The supervision took almost as much time as doing the chores myself, but for the sake of teaching the kids to work, I made everyone stick to the routine.

The kids left home. Eventually I retired and ended up with lots of hours where no one expected me to do anything. With only two of us at home, the house stays relatively clean, or maybe I've just learned to ignore the dirt for longer periods of time. Whatever. With all the extra time, I decided I needed a hobby, so I took up writing novels. At first I wrote for several hours a day, finishing my first in less then six months. The second took a little longer, and I worked on the third one off and on for over a year. After all these years, I find I'm still looking for ways to motivate myself. It would be nice if   my publisher was bugging me to meet some deadline, or my editor was clamoring for my next manuscript, but sadly I don't have either of those. I do have readers who keep asking for the next book, but unlike hungry kids, they don't scream as loud or as often as it takes to keep my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keys of my computer.

I guess I'll just have to get creative. No food until I've written for at least two hours? That might work.