Where Do You Get Your Ideas? (And Does It Matter?)

"Where do you get your ideas?"

I mean, really, is there any other question so ubiquitous in the life of an author?

That said, it’s also a GREAT question because I know as a reader I often find myself looking up from the page and thinking, “I wonder how the author came up with this?”

After all, since the birth of the Internet we all have access to scads and scads of information. So how can it be that two people might look at the same occurrence or the same news article or the same commentary and then disappear into their offices to write two entirely different books? How can it be that Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse (once called her “Southern Vampire” series) be incredibly different from Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight? Which is different from Anne Rice’s The Vampire Lestat? Which is different from Bram Stoker’s Dracula? Which is different from Rosemary Laurey’s Kiss Me Deadly?

Truth to tell, there’s nothing new under the sun. Or, ahem, under the full moon either.

Today I found an old handout from Lou Heckler, one of my favorite speakers. Check him out at http://www.louheckler.com/ It would be difficult to find a more thoughtful, entertaining and erudite platform professional. If you ever get the chance to see him, by all means do. (While you listen, pay careful attention to the structure of his talk. He’s very canny about the order he uses to present and emphasize information. Really, each time he speaks, it’s a master class in the art of giving an effective presentation.) In this particular handout, Lou discussed how “theme” is not the same as “slant.” You see, all those books I mentioned above have vampires as their theme. Each book, however, has a different slant.

Charlaine Harris’s work raises questions about xenophobia, what it means to be human, and whether our prejudices might stem, in part, from our religious beliefs.

Stephenie Meyer’s work takes the form of a romance novel with its extended riff on unfulfilled sexual promise, but she is writing about the trauma of being an awkward teenager.

Anne Rice’s work had a decidedly gothic theme and a religious viewpoint. Their setting—New Orleans—was as vibrant as any character.

Bram Stoker’s work wasn’t the first mention of vampires in literature, but it was probably the great granddaddy of most of what we think about the undead, blood-suckers. Written in epistolary form (diary and newspaper articles provide much of the information), it sprang from the legend of “Vlad the Impaler.” The novel is supposedly a riff on the clash between the new world and the old.

Rosemary Laurey’s work is incredibly romantic and yet very modern. It follows many of the ideals of popular romance novels, but adds in the sort of questions that are part of our zeitgeist.
As I write this, I think of the classes I’ve taught about getting published. Many times students will tell me they fear having their ideas stolen. That’s reasonable. That can happen. But most ideas for books are fungible. It’s the slant, the plotting, and the author’s voice, that make a book unique—and therefore, salable.

That Thing You Do...or Don't Do...Whatever

I spent last weekend up at Mall of America where Scrapfest was held.

Scrapfest. Hmm. I bet you are wondering exactly what Scrapfest is. Well, it's the largest gathering of scrapbookers in the country and it's hosted by Archivers, the large scrapbook chain. This year Scrapfest drew more than 10,000 scrappers--men and women--from all over the world. In fact, I was told that a trio of women come each year from Iceland. They bring empty suitcases and fill them with supplies to take back.

I met scrapbookers from Montana, from New Hampshire, from Arkansas, from Texas, and from all over the country. Most of the people I met were women who are devoted to this craft of ours. One industry estimate says that one in every three homes in the US has a scrapbooker in it. And a lot of them converged on the Twin Cities last weekend.

Not only is scrapbooking popular in the States. The women from Iceland are not unique. Scrapbooking has become an increasingly international hobby. And the uses of scrapbooking are as varied as the places it's being well-received. My first book on the topic, Scrapbook Storytelling, is used in South Africa to help rape victims. Counselors use the book and its personal questions as a starting point to create pages about their tragedy. While combining photos and words, the women see themselves as brave survivors rather than victims. It is the cornerstone of a healing process that combines left and right brain, not unlike EMDR, the revolutionary theory started by Francine Shapiro for PTSD survivors.

In the UK, scrapbooking found a natural audience. Folks in the UK have long been devotees of handmade greeting cards. Now they turn those same skills to scrapbooking--completing a cultural love affair with history by making personal histories come alive on scrapbook pages. I started a contest in the UK for scrapbookers, oh, nearly five years ago. It's still going strong. In fact, last week I began to judge this year's entries and I was astonished. We had more than 90 contestants in one category alone. Each contestant submitted 6 images. So I spent hours going through these. I was astonished at the creativity and self-expression.

Scrapbooking is also huge in Australia. They have several terrific scrapbooking publications. In Australia, scrapbooking is very much a family affair with young mothers recording the growth of their children.

So what's my point?

Well, with all this activity, it's no surprise that I was asked one question repeatedly: "Do YOU scrapbook?"

Yeah. Okay. I do. I scrapbook. I admit it. In fact, I'm addicted. I have way too many toys, and more paper than I can possibly ever use.

But I can always buy more, can't I? I mean, a girl can dream!

Folks would ask, "Are you a scrapbooker?" and I would answer that question and wait. Inevitably, a smile would follow. I could see the scrappers' expressions change. I could almost imagine what they were thinking: "She's one of us!"

Yep. The answer to all of you out there who are scrapbookers out there is, YES! I'm one of YOU. And I'm so very happy, you have responded so kindly to my book. More than 300 copies of Paper, Scissors, Death were sold over the weekend. You've already started sending me emails telling me how much you LOVE Kiki Lowenstein.

And why not? After all, she's a devoted scrapbooker. Just like you. And me. And hundreds of thousands of others all around the globe.

Not the Hands of a Writer

Cricket McRae

I went for a manicure yesterday. Apparently, I should go more often, because within seconds of sitting down, I detected the distinctive sound of tsking under the nail technician’s breath.

Finally, she asked, “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

That usually results in a question about what kind of writing I do. Not this time. This time I received a single quirked eyebrow and a look that said, “Sure you are, honey. These are not the hands of a writer.”

Which is true. I have the hands of a gardener. Of a cook. A soap maker. And that’s just the beginning. I’ve kept chickens, made cheese, baked bread (and a lot of other things), canned and pickled and dried a ton of food, made jerky … hell, once I even butchered a deer in my living room when I was a starving college student (not as messy as it sounds, honest). And for the record, I’m not a farm girl.

I know, I know. Nutso. Crazy. Wacky. They’re coming to take me away, ha ha.

Ha.

Seriously, why does anyone do this stuff? I mean, I canned grape leaves for dolmades last week, for heaven’s sake. I make my own cultured butter.

Frugality. Nostalgia. Uniqueness and/or a gourmet touch. Self-sufficiency. Creativity. Tradition. Stubborn neo-Ludditism. A Martha Stewart complex.

All these apply to me to some degree, except the last one. But mostly? It’s about knowing how things work. About being in on a process from the ground up.

Of course homemade soap is satisfyingly practical: inexpensive, better quality than commercial soap, milder, customized with my scent blends, a source of creativity while at the same time providing sudsy cleansing goodness on a daily basis.

And yes, my great-grandmother saved her bacon grease all year, and each fall she and her neighbor built a fire under an iron tripod in the driveway between their two houses in Sheridan, Wyoming, where they spent the day making the lye soap she used to wash everything from her toes to her clothes.

But I don’t know if she thought about how cool it is that you can mix oil (acid, sort of) and lye (alkaline) and through the chemical process of saponification end up with soap (which is essentially a salt, however weird that may sound). But I do. Think about it, I mean.

Okay, I know not everyone is fascinated by how yeast creates maltose and alcohol as bread rises, or what a mesophilic cheese culture will produce as opposed to a thermophilic one. I know I’m a little odd that way. But you know who is interested is finding out what makes things tick? The protagonist in my home crafting mysteries, Sophie Mae Reynolds, that’s who.

I’m often asked the ubiquitous question, “Is Sophie Mae really you?” I always used to give some variation of the answer, “sort of.” Now I’m starting to wonder whether the qualities that cause me to research natural fiber dyes and actually consider using the traditional mordant to set those dyes (urine, honest-to-God, and no, I’ve not gone down that road), are the same qualities that make her not only run a handmade toiletries business, but also poke her nose into the whys and wherefores of neighbors dying and cases of botulism that make no sense. She’s curious. She wants to know the guts of how something happened.

And you know what else? Between her gardening and chickens and preserving and soap making, I have no doubt Sophie Mae is badly in need of a manicure. Let’s just hope her friendly neighborhood nail tech isn’t a tsker.

What are you nerdy about? What odd fascinations do you have that aren’t exactly cocktail party fodder? Come on, give.

Funny 101

It is October1997.

In the past eighteen months I have survived an unexpected divorce, the flooding of my home, and a fractured neck. But I’m far more nervous about the latest challenge: a first-ever blind date, taking place right after my hospital shift.
My co-workers, on the other hand, are completely titillated. As I rush to the nurses' locker room to change out of my scrubs, they make me promise to stop by the ER for their approval of my "date wear".
Because I’m a fool, I agree.
I do a complete wardrobe change, top to bottom. Fresh and hopeful as a new beginning.
Short skirt, high heels, great sweater--deep breath. I frantically stuff my work clothes into an open-top tote bag. I’m late, but I promised to . . .

The ER is Friday-night-packed.
I arrive to appreciative hoots and whistles from fellow nurses, doctors, paramedics--and even a few drunk patients who get caught up in the excitement.
My ego is boosted. My date jitters abate, my confidence soars.
I do a girly pirouette, like Mary Tyler Moore on steroids, right in the middle of the ER--
And something flies out of my tote bag.

It skids across the vinyl floor.
A male nurse moves to scoop it up; I rush forward to take it from him and . . .
The scene turns to slow-mo, as the horrifying truth hits me and--God help me--everyone else.
The mortified male nurse hands me my panties.

I am never the same.

So . . . I turn to writing comedy.


Author John Vorhaus (The Comic ToolBox) and Billy Mernit (Writing the Romantic Comedy), agree on this basic equation:

TRUTH + PAIN = FUNNY.

The TRUTH of the blind date mishap is that to try something new involves risk. The PAIN is that sometimes you make a fool of yourself.

And when it happens to someone else, we laugh--because we see our own worst fears coming true. It could have been us.

Athena Critique Services asked me to teach a 2-week writing workshop next month, “My Funny Valentine: Writing the Romantic Comedy.” I got excited about it, and then I started to wonder--what is the best way to share the “art of funny”? Vorhaus starts with the basic element of any good story: Character. He asks the writer to define the “STRONG COMIC PERSPECTIVE” of his character, or the unique ( skewed) way that this character views the world, which differs from the “normal” world view. Then EXAGGERATE this, add FLAWS, and HUMANITY (the element that makes us bond with the character, thinking “he’s just like me”).

It’s easy for me to picture these elements, when I think of TV’s phobic Adrian “Monk.” Monk’s STRONG COMIC PERSPECTIVE: he is the infallible authority on crime solving. This perspective is EXAGGERATED because he is compelled to solve crimes despite the fact he lost his badge as a result of the effects of stress and OCD. His (also exaggerated and incapacitating) FLAWS: Monk views the world as a contagious and dangerous “jungle”--he’s even afraid of milk, for godsake! And his HUMANITY: He deeply loves his deceased wife, and feels responsible for her death.

All of which made me think of the heroine of my funny & romantic Darcy Cavanaugh Cruise Mystery series. How do Vorhaus’ elements of a comic character relate to her?
It struck me, that my tendency toward likening the series to “I Love Lucy meets ER on The Love Boat . . . to solve a murder,” was very apt. Because, like Lucy Ricardo, Darcy Cavanaugh’s:

COMIC PERSPECTIVE: is that she can do anything.

Which is EXAGGERATED by:
A sense of responsibility to defend the underdog, and to right unjust wrongs.
Her FLAW: She’s impulsive, jumps to conclusions, leaps without looking first.
And Darcy’s HUMANITY: She cares enough to take risks. And we love her for that.

What about your characters? Regardless of whether you write humorous fiction, and even if it's "dark"--what's their comic perspective?

As a medical professional, I can testify to the fact that a sense of humor is a life (and sanity) saving attribute. Accordingly--

Vorhaus also throws out this interesting challenge: What is YOUR own personal comic perspective? In what unique way do YOU view the world--and, very likely, imbue your writing?

And, finally, do check out Athena Critique Service. I’ll be starting my class, “My Funny Valentine: Writing the Romantic Comedy,” on February 5th.

No whoopee cushions, fake doggy doo, or squirting cameras allowed.

Undies to remain discreetly out of sight. Thank you.