clues at the scene

clues at the scene

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Nosing Around

At left, Lou the foxhound helping me with my re-writes. He's an in-close type of writing consultant. Likes to stick his nose right in my coffee, too.

The blog is static ...not dead yet!

It's been a tough summer for the ink. I've been working a story since late June and am now deep in a third re-write. I'm finishing that effort this week and putting together pages for a buddy to read.

This one goes out.

I hope your summer projects are progressing - even at a summer's pace.

They'll hound you for attention so there's no sense ignoring them. I could use a little fall. The weather has finally broken here and the house is open this morning. Highs in the low 70's.

You earn that sort of weather. You earn it roasting like dinner for a couple months.

Add a drop of water to the ink pot and stir. It comes right back to life, just like your writing.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Like Poppies ...

At left, poppy field in Turkey as photographed by Bernard Gagnon and hosted on wikicommons. Bernard allows its use here for only the attribution.

Kate Bush has a line in a song which I frequently play "Like poppies ..."  from the song "And Dream of Sheep." I find Kate Bush's lyrical qualities superb but part of that is due to the equipment I have and how her voice is reproduced.

I have a buddy who undergoes serious back surgery tomorrow. Opiates in the near future. I've lost one buddy to an addicted speech-slurred uselessness to back surgery and so I have concerns about Mike.

I haven't written much about drugs because the outcomes seem short-circuited to me. I knew several folks in the cocaine boom and the end was short and predictable in each case. I'm not sure I can write a story involving the recreational use of serious controlled substances that would hold a reader's attention.

Beto Unit.

If you wonder what the first ring of Hell looks like, read about the Beto Unit for detention in Texas.

I'm doing a re-write. I'm paying special attention to the change in tempo of interactions between people in tense serious conversations. Say, conversations in a room with the local sheriff.

Keep your powder dry and try walking a little more from now on. It helps the back.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Broken Angels

At left, copyright-free image of stone angel hosted on wikicommons as photographed by Roland Geider at the St. Peter and St. Paul cathedral (uncertain which one ... does not appear to be in St. Petersburg).

I'm finding the theme of broken angels - those who would do good but whose natures lead them from that end - to be quite compelling lately.

I'm drawn to the "incidentally bad"  which is to say those who normally do good but in an instance of crisis make the choice that then spirals beyond their control.

I hope your writing is taking you down the darker alleys of the human psyche. I've found my niche in rural noir. I've found my people.

Back to the ink.

I hope your fingers remained stained the darkest black and your fountain pens flow smoothly.

Watch the neighbors. They're not who you think they are.


Saturday, May 14, 2016

Drowning in Limpid Pools of Love

At left, from the national archives a public domain poster from WWII.

I'm back. I'm back on fiction and I've got a good story. I think this one has real legs for the novel ; but, the short story is its own beast.

Yes, more than one murder with the same characters in the same setting. Surprise!

You write what you know. I know rural noir of the great plains. Will it work? Works for me.

I'm going to see if the folks over at Needle like this one. Right up their alley.

Anyway, I'm drowning a couple of characters. Do all the characters we kill come back to haunt us in our last moments? If so, I better put my death bed into the Super Dome.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead off stage. I'm just following the Bard's lead.

I'm back. Murder is in the wind. Mind the water. It is deep and cold. Ask Brett and Mark.

I drowned them both.