Christmas traditions

'Twas the night before Christmas

Christmas in my family has, or had, many traditional activities. Some have gone by the wayside as the family dwindled--there are only seven of us here, but we get together and eat and enjoy each other, and eat some more, and finally nap. Son John and sister Christy are the best cooks, but we all help.

So far, two of my characters like to cook, Claire in Cold Comfort and Madeleine in Prime Target. I prefer cooking in winter, and both of those books are set mostly in cold weather—Claire even owns a Christmas shop and bakes cookies.

The scents wafting from a busy kitchen bring back many memories. Baking, which started in November with fruitcakes and didn’t end until Christmas dinner, required help from everyone. My sister the artist makes pretty cookies. (It did take her several tries to get them looking good.)

Christy's Christmas Cookies

Mother used to make a range of candies and cakes and filled paper plates, which we tied up in red or green tissue paper with a bow. They filled the dining room table, and my sisters and I loved giving them out. I did it for many years, but now I’m doing well to make a few things for friends.

Christy's Lane Cake

My sister usually makes a Lane Cake. They're special and maybe made more in the south. Harper Lee mentions one in To Kill a Mockingbird, but this is not her recipe. Whatever, it's scrumptious and goes quickly.

My job is usually to set the table--less risky than some of my cooking. What are your Christmas traditions? Favorite foods?

Showing Character

Do you like to see images of main characters, or do you prefer to let your imagination create the picture? I have ideas but love to see pictures. I collect them from various places to use for references, such as for Claire and Riley, the characters in Cold Comfort, for Madeleine in Prime Target, and for the others. I keep interesting faces to use in minor roles.

Claire, Cold Comfort

But mostly I want the description to let the reader see the person. There are many ways to show characterization. I try to keep descriptions visual whenever possible, but that doesn’t mean I give a driver’s license description.

Show rather than tell. Physical attributes are more than hair and eye color. You might show how the person walks—does he walk, swagger, amble, sidle, or slither into the room? Does he look directly at you when he talks or does his gaze slide away?

Riley, Cold Comfort

Show, don't tell. How the character looks can be shown through the effect on others. Instead of She was breathtakingly beautiful, you might say Joe and every other man present forgot to breathe when Angela entered the room. Instead of George was big and mean-looking, try something like Walking with George was like walking with a Doberman—one look and people made way in a hurry.

Clothing can show a great deal. Is the character neat and clean but wearing an obviously homemade dress? Does Dan have snagged threads and salsa stains on his Dior tie? And there's always the church organist with the red lace underwear. List all the physical characteristics on a separate page so you don't forget that on page twenty she had green eyes and on page two hundred you make them match the topaz necklace she's wearing. If she's only an inch shorter than another character, she'd better not be looking up at him unless she's sitting down. I often use pictures I cut from magazines or wherever and tape them to the wall by my desk.

A marvelous sleezy character

Mannerisms are good ways to make a character memorable, but use the mannerism sparingly. Don’t limit your character to a single action so that you repeat the same thing over and over.  Instead of having her twist a strand of hair around her finger until the reader wants to cut it off (either the finger or the hair—watch those pronouns), find ways to vary a nervous habit. Make a list of applicable verbs if she plays with her hair: chew, finger, pull, stroke, tuck, whatever. Or maybe she fiddled with her clothing, adjusted her glasses, pushed her hair back, picked at her nails.

You can also use physical surroundings, the character’s past, and his or her name to enhance the character’s personality. Someone told me that Margaret Mitchell started out calling her heroine Pansy. Thank goodness she changed her to Scarlett. How about Eudora Welty’s Stella Rondo? The name rolls off the tongue and stays with you. Faulkner’s Colonel Sartoris Snopes. It suits the character. A bitter prostitute named Tanya sounds more in character than one named Mary Jane. Give your character names a lot of thought and try to let them convey a sense of the person.

What are names you love? Hate? How do you name your own characters? 

McClellanville, SC

Williamsburg Photo Ser Amantio di Nicolao

COLD COMFORT was a fun book to write. I pored over maps, websites, and real estate ads, looking for the right neighborhoods and houses for the characters. I wrote to friends who live in D.C. for information on the traffic, how to get around, and where typical people might live.

Mistletoe window

Then I spent a few days in Williamsburg, VA, and drove down to McClellanville, trying to absorb the details and imagine the scenes. My sister was with me and took notes--which were a joy to decipher later! We took lots of pictures and enjoyed ourselves, with many stops for fun. We discussed murder and how to dispose of bodies in soft voices in restaurants, but we still earned a few odd looks.

McClellanville

Now I’m dragging her and my husband to the mountains in nearby North Carolina to research another book, but I must admit it’s slow going. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, the news is a constant distraction.

North Carolina mountains

COLD COMFORT- Christmas

Mistletoe display

Cold Comfort takes place in Williamsburg, VA, during December. Here's a short excerpt from Chapter 2. This is where Riley, the reluctant investigator, first goes to Claire Spencer's Christmas shop, Mistletoe, and sees Claire. 

If she's picket fences, he's barbed wire. Opposites do attract.

Through the window, he saw hundreds of tiny white lights peeking through the greenery festooned from the ceiling. The warm glow of a village peopled with moving figures showed between the branches of a fir tree, and a little skater twirled on a glass lake. He could see why the kids were fascinated. The scene came straight from a fairy tale. Magic. Geez. Just his kind of case. He'd go in, take a quick look, and get out. For Ray, he'd check out the situation, but he wasn't committing to anything.

Sugar and spice and everything nice. The old nursery rhyme came back to him as he entered the shop and inhaled the tang of fresh evergreens mingled with...cinnamon? It could have been worse—at least some of the trees were real. He sniffed again. Apple cider? Drawn by the scent, he followed his nose.

The aisles meandered through the store like paths in a forest—nothing square or aligned. He recognized Mary, a tall, elegant woman in a loose, African-patterned dress, from several years ago. She stood chatting with a young couple beside an electric train display. He stayed out of her line of sight, hiding behind a tree decorated with ribbons and dead flowers. "Dried" was probably the politically correct description he decided, stifling a sneeze.

Riley worked his way toward the rear of the shop until, over the lilting strains of "Greensleeves," he heard a woman say, "You can have a cup of cider if you sit quietly and listen to the story."

He recognized Claire's voice from the phone. Peering around a six-foot-tall gingerbread house, he saw several children, all clutching small paper cups, sitting on a rug in front of a cozy fake fireplace. When she pressed a button on an old tape player, starting "The Night before Christmas," the children sat spellbound.

Through the branches of a tree, he studied her. Wavy, nut-brown hair in a loose knot on top of her head, almost a Gibson girl style, emphasized her gentle, somewhat old-fashioned look. The knot listed to the left and a few strands hung loose. Must be a bad day—that he could understand. The woman fit the voice. If this represented Claire Spencer's life, maybe she'd magnified a common robbery into an attack by a stalker to add a little excitement. She could have done the doll too, just to jack up the stakes.

He didn't expect to like her, and he was damn sure she wouldn't like him.

Then one kid pushed another, and a shoving match began. The ladylike Miss Spencer surprised him with the no-nonsense tone of a nun. "Boys! Sit down and behave. You know the rules." She turned toward Riley and smiled. "Two strikes and you're out."

Busted. He nodded and turned away, pretending to examine the contents of a basket.

"May I help you find something?" She appeared at his elbow, wearing a solemn expression.

"Uh, yes. I'm trying to find something for my nephew." He looked down at her. Clear ivory skin with a hint of pink in her cheeks, eyes like a bright October sky. Although she wasn't classically beautiful, her coloring would have made Botticelli weep. If he were a portrait painter....

"Interesting choice," she said.

In the subdued lighting he couldn't be sure, but he thought those cerulean eyes held a twinkle. He glanced down to see his "choice," a basket of pearly pink ornaments. Super sleuth strikes again. "I'll take three of these—for his mother. She likes pink."

After paying for the useless stuff, he made a hasty retreat. Safely outside in the cold, he checked his watch. Five twenty. Time enough for coffee after a quick tour to check the rear access to Mistletoe. Resigned, he reminded himself he owed Ray. He would do it for Ray.
Want to read more? Follow the link to Amazon.

A Difference in Perception

Kindle or Print

Sometimes, even when you’re telling a story, it makes a difference whether you show or tell. The words the audience or reader receives have quite a different effect.

When the reader is told, she doesn’t form a picture or experience an emotion. She accepts the idea and moves on to the next idea. Here’s an example, rephrased from the real book as telling.

Abby heard footsteps but she didn’t see anyone.  She stopped. So did the footsteps. “Who’s there?” No one answered. She was scared. Her dog growled. Abby tried to open the door but it was locked.

Showing takes more words. There the writer or storyteller has to create a scene for the reader to see and experience along with the character. Here’s the same excerpt as Polly Iyer wrote it in her suspense novel, InSight.

She stopped. So did the footsteps. “Who’s there?” Still no answer. Why isn’t someone answering? The hairs on her arms stood erect, charged with electricity. She possessed an uncanny ability to feel another presence, as if all her nerve endings put out tiny sensors. Someone prowled the hall. Daisy emitted a low growl from the back of her throat. Pulse racing, Abby hurried to the side door and pushed against it. Locked. This door was never locked from the inside.

See the difference? Polly isn’t telling you how Abby felt, she’s showing you. You can feel the fear with Abby when the hairs raise, when her pulse races. You can push the door with her and find it doesn’t open.

Here’s an example from Cold Comfort, my suspense novel. I could have said Claire was exhausted and took a pain pill, but I wanted to create a picture.

The men continued to talk. Claire leaned against the car, imagining herself sliding off the fender like spaghetti off a plate, congealing into a lump on the ground. Those little white pills, on top of everything else, packed a wallop. The men droned on.

There are times when telling is the better choice. If it’s on something that isn’t important to the story, or it’s just a nice little vignette that doesn’t go anywhere, it may be better to tell it quickly and move on to something that moves the story forward.

How about you? Do you see the difference? Do the examples that show bring the scenes to life? How do you feel about it?  

Why Do Some Stories Resonate?

Yesterday I saw The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and loved it—so much that I want to see it again. I woke up thinking about it. Why do some stories touch us so much that we keep thinking about them? Why do the characters come back to visit our dreams many times?

Maybe part of it is the way each character’s story resolves itself—not necessarily happily but in a just and satisfying way. Sometimes the resolution isn’t what we expect, but if it seems to fit, if it’s what the character has earned, we’re pleased.

In Marigold, the characters grew. Each one developed in some way that made us cheer. The characters were not all likable, but they were interesting and each elicited an emotional response. We cared.

The point is, aside from recommending a very good movie, that we should try to do the same thing in our stories. But how? We need to give each of our main characters some weakness or undeveloped trait and then impose conflict and circumstances that force the character to react. From those reactions, the characters should learn, gain confidence, and move along their path. This doesn’t have to be a positive path, but if it’s your protagonist, he or she will probably then need to overcome the negative aspects—unlikely in a short story because it takes time to show so much change.

Placing the story in a foreign or culturally different setting imposes change and provides opportunities for the character to react according to her personality and outlook. “Foreign” could be anything different from the norm. An egocentric, in-charge character might become a patient in a hospital. A timid, indecisive soul could find himself in charge of a group of children in a hostile environment. Those are extreme examples, but forced change is a good way to do it. In Cold Comfort, Claire is an ordinary woman who becomes a killer’s target, forcing her to move outside—way outside—her comfort zone. Riley, because of a personal failure, hates working with women, but a debt of honor forces him to help Claire.

There are many ways to do these things, limited only by our imagination. Do you consciously think about making your character grow? How did you do it? What vehicles or devices have you used?

Note: Read about the “real” Marigold Hotel. 

Aftermath

This is an excerpt from Cold Comfort. Riley has just heard from Claire for the first time and doesn't want to get involved in her problem.

Chapter 2

Riley hung up the phone and curled his lip in disgust. "A stalker. The woman watches too much TV. Probably a simple mugging that scared her stupid." 

A large, gray-striped cat opened one eye and flicked a notched ear, then returned to his nap on the desk. Absently scratching the cat's scarred head with one hand, Riley picked up a stained mug, only to find the coffee cold. "Damn."

He fished a notepad out of his desk drawer and scribbled Call Ray across the top. The phone sat six inches from the pad. He reread his note and added "Later" in large letters. The numerals on his clock changed to 6:21. Claire Spencer's voice echoed in his head. Mugger or not, fear lent a hollow note to her voice. The pencil snapped in two between his fingers, surprising him. He stood, shoved his chair away, and threw the stub at the fireplace.

The river outside Riley's house

Running his hands through his hair, he crossed the room to the window. The river, choppy and gray, gave way to memories. A girl's face, her mouth stretched in a scream, swam into his vision. Christ. He knew the image would keep him awake tonight. Why did Ray give this woman his name? Did he think Riley could handle an easy problem like Spencer's? A quick fix that would lure him back to a job he could no longer do? Not bloody likely.

* * *

At eight thirty the phone rang. Riley swung the ax, sinking it into the log, and went inside to answer. The pile of wood he'd just split ought to last him a month. He brushed his hands on his jeans and grabbed the phone before his "Leave a message" started. "Hold on." He switched off the machine. "Yeah?"

"Dammit, Riley," Ray Bonney's voice boomed over the line, "you could at least talk to her. The woman needs help. She's got a goose egg and stitches in her head, and now the bastard's been in her shop."

"The Spencer woman?" Riley wasn't getting suckered into another job, especially one involving a woman. Especially an injured woman. Never again. "Forget it. I'm through. Tell her to call the police or a private eye."

"She did. The cops can't do anything and PIs are too expensive. Come on, Riley."

"If she can't afford them, she sure as hell can't afford me."

"You don't need money."

"That's not the point. I'm through. No more." Silence. Riley waited, preparing himself for Ray's next argument.

"She's a good lady. My sister Mary works in her store, but there's more. They're friends. I like Claire. Don't want to see her hurt, by anybody." He paused and then said, "I'm asking you, Riley."

Ray's hole card. If he'd use it, the woman meant a great deal to him. Riley traced a finger over the scar next to his heart, then wiped his hand over his face. He couldn't refuse. "You'd better tell me what you know. I didn't get much information."

"That means you didn't want much. She's kind of reserved—a little old-fashioned. You snarl at her?" Ray snorted. "Put her off, most likely."

"If you want me to help her, tell me what's going on—someone might be following her? Someone tried to attack her? She sounded like a flake."

Una Tiers Interviews Ellis

I'm delighted to interview Ellis Vidler about her new book, Cold Comfort.  Let's start with a little background about your first two novels, Haunting Refrain and The Peeper.

My grandmother had a streak of psychic ability—she knew when something was wrong with a family member, so that sort of thing always interested me. I don't know how Haunting Refrain came to me, but that's what I wanted to write. After a writing class with Scott Regan, I decided I'd better get on with it.

I met Jim Christopher, a South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED) veteran, and he had an idea for a story. He asked if I'd like to write it with him. It was such fun, and I learned so much from him.

And you just published some short stories?  Yes, Tea in the Afternoon, is a collection of three Southern stories, based on remembrances I heard and people I knew, but they're entirely fictitious.

You have a touching dedication to Tea.  It's dedicated to my parents, who gave me a wonderful childhood. We lived in a small town in Mississippi where my friend and I rode double, barefoot and bareback, on her horse though fields and back roads. We stopped at farmhouses for water for us and the horse.

Then my family moved to another small town in Alabama, where I played outside all day, usually in the river bottom or woods. The rule was home by dark. It was a different world.

Can you tell us an early memory about your parents and books? My father read Tarzan of the Apes and the Oz books to me when I was very young. Tarzan remains one of my favorites. Mother read to me too. They said, "You'll learn to read for yourself when you go to school." I cried after my first day of kindergarten because they didn't teach me to read.

 Now we can talk about Cold Comfort. Where is the book set? Claire, my protagonist, owns a Christmas shop in Williamsburg, VA.  There are also scenes on the South Carolina coast at McClellanville and Georgetown and some in Washington, DC.

How did you create your villain? I usually see the characters first, and he suited the crime I had in mind. He did evolve a little more as I wrote, but I saw him from the beginning.  You identify aftershave and tobacco with him.  Why? Both are unpleasant smells to me and seemed to fit in his character. I wanted Claire to have hints of trouble but nothing specific at first.

What about Claire Spencer, where did she come from? Claire’s strong sense of doing what she has to came from a friend I admired.  The rest of her grew and developed as I wrote. My critique partners thought she was too ladylike and pushed me to make her tougher. They were right. She's not a kickass type, but she's strong and determined.

Your pace in Cold Comfort is fast.  How do you help the reader mark how much time has passed? Goodness, I don't know. I guess I just tell when the scenes occur. You know, in the morning, by mid afternoon, at four o'clock, whatever it is. All my books take place in a short period of time. I like the sense of urgency that comes from time limits.

You are so prolific, what's next? I'm working on two books, one about Kate McGuire's friend Gwen, from Haunting Refrain, and a character from Cold Comfort. This one begins on Isla Mujeres in Mexico and ends up in the southeastern United States.

The second one is about Kate's cousin, Alex Jenrette, who also has some inconvenient psychic ability. It's set on a fictitious island off the coast of Charleston, SC. I love the bad guys in this one, but the good guy is giving me trouble. I think he needs a personality transplant.

Thank you for meeting with me, Cold Comfort sounds great.

            Una, you're a dear to do this. I can't wait till your book, Judge vs Nuts, comes out. You're such a funny character yourself, I know it's going to be a fun read. I expect you back when it's released.

Here's Una's cover. Her book will be released soon.

Ellis's Book is available at

http://tinyurl.com/ev-cc-Smash

http://tinyurl.com/ev-cc-Omni

          http://tinyurl.com/ev-cc-Kindle

A Brief Description

This is an excerpt from Cold Comfort, my new romantic suspense, coming sometime this winter. I was trying to avoid a postcard description and tie it to what was happening in the story. Riley, the main man, is checking out Claire's shop as a favor to a friend. Claire, of course, is the heroine.

I don't know if I accomplished what I wanted, to give the flavor and picture of the shop with a little bit of Riley, but here it is. How do you picture the store? Does it work for you? Is it too much? How about Riley's attitude?

He squeezed the Bronco into a parking space, locked it, and strolled across to the shop. Through the window, he saw hundreds of tiny white lights peeking through the greenery festooned from the ceiling. The warm glow of a village peopled with moving figures showed between the branches of a fir tree, and a little skater twirled on a glass lake. He could see why the kids were fascinated. The scene came straight from a fairy tale. Magic. Geez. Just his kind of case. He'd go in, take a quick look, and get out. For Ray, he'd check out the situation, but he wasn't committing to anything.

Sugar and spice and everything nice. The old nursery rhyme came back to him as he entered the shop and inhaled the tang of fresh evergreens mingled with...cinnamon? It could have been worse—at least some of the trees were real. He sniffed again. Apple cider? Drawn by the scent, he followed his nose.

Next Friday I'll post short excerpts from three other authors.