But Not For Me

Annamaria on Monday

It's time for Bouchercon, but not for me.

I was all set to go when disaster struct.  I won't go into all the gory details but it started with a lot of pain, and halfway through the ordeal I was attacked with a knife.  OOPs.  Please excuse me.  I sound like an over dramatic writer of crime fiction. What really happened was that a surgeon very skillfully, removed my appendix.

Today, on the third day after the surgery, I am battling its aftermath, exacerbated by my peculiar physical responses to the world at large.

 

In post-op condition, my tummy looks as if a team of fully grown Clydesdales stomped on it all the way to Milwaukee. Suffice it to say,  I am disoriented, distracted, dysfunctional, and generally speaking, all around displeased, disconsolate, disgruntled, disturbed, and discontent.

Here is an anecdote about how I got here that I hope will amuse you.  Cross your fingers.

I remained in the hospitalI an extra day after the operation, and then the surgeon gave me my get-out-of-jail free card. (Well not exactly free.)  I headed home.

That afternoon I was doing pretty well. But then, by the next day as the anesthesia medication wore off, I was in a lot of pain. Of course, all of this was happening on a holiday weekend at the end of summer. A time when anybody who could had abandoned NYC for the beach or the mountains. My doctor, I believe, is in the mountains. Eventually, I was able to be in touch with him, and during that conversation, I thought we concluded that he would order a heavy duty pain med so I would have it, in case I needed it. I know that we did agree that, based on my body's proclivity to overreact, I would start with a half a pill.

The next day (yesterday), I was distracted by friends phoning, visiting, and other delightful communications from those I love. But by early this morning, I was ready for that pain medication. A friend went at 9 AM to the pharmacy to pick up the painkillers for me. When she got back, she had two over-the-counter items that the doctor had also recommended, and a very special painkiller. Here it is:

Yes! According to the pharmacy, my doctor had prescribed - for intense post-surgery pain for a grown-up woman in her 80s, children's cherry, flavored Tylenol.

I was absolutely sure that this was wrong, but the people at the pharmacy, three of whom who spoke to me, insisted that they had sent me exactly what my doctor ordered. No use arguing.

I called his answering service and asked them to page him.  When I explained, the woman on the phone insisted that the doctor had left strict orders that he did not want to be paged for people who needed a prescription. I was certain that he meant this for people who just need a refill. But there was no way I could convince her. Finally, it occurred to me that I had to offer her a different excuse. "I really need to talk to my doctor. Please page him. I am in a lot of pain."

That worked.  She asked me my name, and my date of birth – which is St. Patrick's Day 1941. The snippy woman then said, "My mother was born on St. Patrick's Day in 1940." Suddenly, she was treating me as if I was a nice person like her mother. Imagine that.

I thanked her profusely. A few hours afterward, I got a call from him. Somehow I had misunderstood. We had settled that we would see how things went and IF I needed, he would then call the pharmacy. Eventually, one of my friends went to pick it up.  I am hoping for a good night's sleep.  Wish me luck!

Bouchercon Hiatus: The Greek Gods Redux

During Bouchercon week we’re picking to post from among our favorite blogs of the past. I’m taking the easy way out and going with what MIE visitors continue to favor more than any other of my posts.  It’s one from January 28, 2012, titled “The Gods Will Be Back.”  I’ve no idea why it continues to draw such attention, unless of course the gods themselves are tuning in from across the ether for this mortal’s take on their family tree. 

BUT WAIT, as a special Bouchercon week offer to the first zillion readers of this column, I’m tossing in absolutely free a second Golden Oldie post. This one appeared on February 25, 2012, titled “A Visit With The Gods.”   

• And for those of you lucky enough to be in the New Orleans area next week, many of us will be speaking  on various Bouchercon  panels in the New Orleans Marriott. The daily panel schedule is available here.  Stop by if you can, as who knows what mysterious gods might suddenly appear.  

So, here’s “The God’s Will Be Back” followed by “A Visit With The Gods.”

I long for the day when the mention of Greece will once again first bring to mind ancient gods, epic tales, and a land and sea infused at every inch with the seminal essence of western civilization.   Someday that will happen, for financial crises are transient and gods are immortal, though not eternal—after all, they do need nectar and ambrosia to sustain them.

Ahh, yes, the good old days of true Greek gods quick and strong, knowing all things, capable of miraculous achievements.

It’s been a long while since I’ve read up on the ancient gods, and I must admit to often getting them mixed up, but I’ve just learned that my confusion puts me in illustrious company. 

Socrates (469-399 B.C.E.)

According to Alexander S. Murray’s Who’s Who in Mythology, even Socrates was confused by the varying number of seemingly same gods (one Aphrodite or two?) and multiple names for one god (Zeus in summer was called Zeus Meilichios, the friendly god, and in winter Zeus Maemaktes, the angry god).

Some think that’s attributable to disparate early Greek tribes who even after coalescing as a single race kept the original names for their separate gods despite obvious similarities to each other (Dione, Hera, Gaea, and Demeter). 

But call them what you wish, the essential purpose of the Greek gods was the same: their existence and interactions explained to mortals the natural order of things, e.g., the earth, the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds, lightning, thunder, earthquakes, storms, waves, and on and on as needed.  

What made Greek gods so significant was that the essentially human form of the Twelve Olympian Deities of Mount Olympus and of the lesser gods living in other environs gave to those who worshipped them the sense that their deities could understand and relate to a mortal’s needs and fears. 

The mythological explanations offered by the carryings on of the gods largely centered upon the three supreme rulers of the world: Uranos, Kronos, and Zeus. 

The first to rule was Uranos.  He represented the heavens and, as the husband of Earth, brought forth life and everything on our planet. 

Uranos with Earth

His son, Kronos, ruled next as god of the harvest, ripening and maturing the forms of life brought forth by his father. 

Kronos and Rhea

And, lastly, ruled Zeus, bringing order and wisdom to the universe. 

Zeus overthrows Kronos (Van Haarlem 1588)

I think it’s safe to say that Zeus hasn’t been around for a while.  Or has he? 

Whatever, all of this impresses me, as it should every writer, artist, and musician who freely borrows from the tales of the gods in their own creations, albeit sometimes consciously oblivious to the source of their inspiration.  So much of what we think unique to modern culture is simply a new way of retelling of what ancient Greeks witnessed in their deities. 

I wish I had time now to say more.  But there will be later.  One must always make time for the gods.

***

Zeus

I’ve often wished there were a way to journey back to the heyday of the ancient Greek gods.  Just to drop in, say “Hi,” and ask what they think of our current times.  These days I’d likely have to make the trip alone, because my Greek buddies—make that all of Greece’s eleven million souls—have more than enough all-knowing, all-powerful forces to contend with in the form of the EU-IMF-ECB troika, plus a hundred-fold that number of homegrown politicians governing their country as if immor(t)als.

This, though, isn’t about current events; it’s about my interest in visiting Olympian deities and, in particular, one called “father of gods and men, ruler and preserver of the world, and everlasting god.”  In other words (courtesy of Alexander S. Murray’s Who’s Who in Mythology), I’m talking about the boss man himself: Zeus. 

But before I wave goodbye and click those ruby slippers together (couldn’t find a reasonably priced pair of Hermes sandals), let me share a little background on how Zeus got to be Numero Uno.  And for you Wizard of Oz aficionados out there, don’t worry about Dorothy’s shoes whisking me off to Kansas instead.  I have it on the highest authority they’ve been re-programmed to route me to the otherwise inaccessible, cloud-shrouded Olympos of Thessaly.

Zeus’ upbringing certainly wasn’t what most normal folk would call traditional, unless of course you happen to be a fan of the Dr. Phil sort of stuff inhabiting weekday afternoon American TV. 

To begin with, his daddy (Kronos) and mommy (Rhea) were brother and sister.  But since his grandparents were the original paired begator (Uranos) and begatee (Gaea) of what love, via Eros (Cupid), had fashioned out of Chaos (the great shapeless mass at the beginning of the world) to prepare the world to receive mankind—that might be considered an extenuating circumstance under modern consanguinity laws. 

Eros and Chaos (by Treijim)

Besides, it was a substantial improvement over his grandparents’ marital arrangement.  Uranos, the husband of Gaea, was not her brother.  He was her son.  And when Uranos “mistreated” their children, Gaea sided with her son/grandson (Kronos) to destroy her husband/son (Uranos).  Got that?

But it gets better.  Zeus’ father (Kronos), alert to how children could treat their fathers, swallowed his first five children as they were born.  Zeus, the sixth child, only escaped because his mother (Rhea) deceived her husband/brother (Kronos) into thinking Zeus, too, had been swallowed. 

Kronos (Saturn) by Francisco De Goya

When Zeus reached manhood he enlisted the aid of his grandmother (Gaea) to convince his father (Gaea’s son/grandson) to yield up Zeus’ siblings, which Kronos did.  One was Zeus’ sister, Hera (Juno), the love of Zeus’ life … and later his wife.  Like father like son, I suppose.

Zeus had many affairs and fathered many children, at times in rather unorthodox fashion, but Hera was his only wife, as was the way in Greece.  Some say Zeus didn’t gallivant around as much as people liked to think, but gained his reputation innocently through an historical accommodation.  When the disparate tribes of Greece came together as one race, each brought with them their own Zeus stories, and all those separate tales were incorporated into one mythology that multiplied Zeus’ fathering experiences far beyond what any individual tribe had believed on its own.

If Zeus got Hera to buy that story, it’s good enough for me.  

Hera with Zeus

By the way, let’s not forget that all this played out for Zeus against the time of man on earth. 

At the beginning of Zeus’ rule it was the Silver Age of the human race.  Men were rich, but grew overbearing, were never satisfied, and in their arrogance forgot the source to which their prosperity was owed.  As punishment, Zeus swept the offenders away to live as demons beneath the earth.

Then came the Bronze Age, one of quarreling and violence, where might made right, and cultivated lands and peaceful occupations faded away.  Ultimately even the all-powerful grew tired of it all and disappeared without a trace.

The Iron Age followed with a weakened and downtrodden mankind using their bare hands to toil for food, thinking all the while only of themselves, and dealing unscrupulously with each other. 

Zeus had seen enough.

He brought on a flood that destroyed all but two members of the human race.  A husband, Deukalion, and his wife, Pyrrha, were spared and commanded by the gods to propagate a new human race upon the earth. 

Pyrrha and Deukalion by Andrea di Mariotto del Minga

That, folks, is supposed to be us. 

If I recall correctly, Zeus didn’t think much more of the new batch than he did of the ones he’d wiped off the face of the earth. 

But this is 2012, and the human race is so much different now than it was in Zeus’ day that we have absolutely nothing to fear from the big guy for the way we live our lives today. 

Right? 

Hmmm.  I really can’t wait to get going.  Honest.  But time travel these days isn’t as predictable as it once was (what with all those amateurs clogging up the astral planes) and I’d sure hate to pop in on Zeus on a bad day.  God(s) knows where/how I’d end up. 

On reflection, I think I’ll put those slippers away for now—at least until after the elections. Which elections, you ask?  Good question.  I’ll wait for a sign from the gods on high and let you know.

Jeff—Saturday

 

Jeff’s upcoming events

2025

All Live Events

 

September 3 – 7 | Bouchercon 2025 | New Orleans, LA
Friday, September 5, 4:00-4:45 p.m.
New Orleans Marriott—La Galeries 5-6
Panelist, “Tips and Tricks for Keeping a Series Fresh,” with Anne Cleeland, Marcy McCreary, Charles Todd, Tessa Wegert, and Moderator Deborah Dobbs

Saturday, September 6, 10:30-11:25 a.m.
New Orleans Marriott—La Galerie 3
Panelist, “No Passport Required: International Mysteries and Thrillers,” with Barbara Gayle Austin, Cara Black, Joseph Finder, J.L. Hancock, and Moderator Mark Ellis

 

Wednesday, September 17, 6:30 p.m.
Greek National Tourist Organization
Presentation of the literary work of Jeffrey Siger
Ilias Lalaounis Jewelry Museum
Kallisperi 12, Acropolis

 

 

 

 

Those Tropes Again!

 

I think we are on a Bouchercon Hiatus. That sounds like a medical condition where a proctologist might be of some use.

Meanwhile, here’s one of those blogs based on something that flicks up on Facebook every so often.

This was also inspired also by Annamaria's recent blog about those tropes that happen in films or TV series all the time….with my twist.

I hope all those in New Orleans are having a great time, and are asking panellists deep and incisive questions, like Where Do You Get Your Ideas From? How do you counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?

And as Annamarie hinted, here’s what happens in films where nobody has any great ideas.

1)      The time of death is incredibly accurate to provide the main suspect with an alibi.

2)      The detective who solves the case, will be suspended from that same case, within the first three  minutes  of the episode, by the person mention in the next point.

3)       All detectives have a boss who is an idiot (that might be true in other walks of life also)

4)       One tiny light from a phone or a single cigarette lighter, will illuminate the entire park and show where  the dead body is very clearly.

5)      CSIs with very long hair, will wear their hair down and impeccably styled, then pick up a single hair from the scene with a pair of tweezers and proclaim the name of the suspect.

6)      Woman can run in high heels.

7)      Nobody buys any shopping, but the fridge is always full.

8)      Nobody goes to the toilet for the normal reasons, they go to talk about the case – or to hide by sitting   up  on the toilet lid like a distressed squirrel.

9)      Typing anything into a search engine comes back with the result wanted, instantly... sometimes after a   long stream of tech gobbledegook - I think EvKa admires this very much.....

10    Dogs know goodies from baddies, instantly. And they never need to go to the toilet either.

11     Any well-behaved dog that doesn’t come back when called, has found a body. Or a hand as       Annamaria  said. Or any body part...

12      Parking on the top floor of a multi-story car park, ends up with somebody clinging on the wall with a    very long drop below them. Goodie will grab their wrists; baddies will stand on any visible fingers.

13     Any fights in a UK TV series will be started by a drunk Glaswegian, especially if set in A and E

14      At the bar, the seat next to the person the detective wants to speak to, is always free. As is the barman.

15      In a UK crime series, the lift in a high rise is always broken.

16      Victims killed in their bedrooms will inevitably have a white carpet.

17     When two non-English speakers speak to each other, they will do it in English with an accent    borrowed from their native language, even if their native language is the same.

18     There will be a handy parade close by when a suspect is running through the city streets. St Patricks   Day, A Santa's parade etc. There’s scope here for a passing pipe band to be involved. The noise of the    bagpipes will drown out any calls for help or screams from the victim.

19    Car wheels make skidding noise even on non skiddable surfaces.

20    Mobile phone batteries die the minute the phone is really needed.

 H   Happy Bouchercon

The minds of murderers

 Michael –Alternate Tuesdays

Guess who...

The crime reading and writing community obviously has a deep interest in what goes on in the minds of murderers – what are their motives, is the crime opportunistic or carefully planned, do they have favorite locations, weapons, approaches?

In most real cases, the killing is on the spur of the moment, motivated by anger or possibly by mental and physical abuse where the victim finally snaps. Those cases don’t make interesting police procedurals. The connection between the victim and the killer is usually apparent or quickly discovered. Once the motive is established, and remembering that the attack was unplanned, it’s easy to identify the prime suspect and join the dots. However, premeditated murder (at least in fiction) is usually planned quite carefully. The motive may be more obscure – money, love, hate, revenge, silence. The murderer will take trouble to avoid discovery and, perhaps, try to engineer an alibi. He or she will choose the time and place. They will know what sort of things the police will look for and try to avoid those using information from CSI and all the other true crime series flooding the streaming services. Now the detective has a challenge worth reading about.

The writer’s job is to make the villain believable, and to do that one needs to understand what’s going on in their mind. What is the real motive? How do they react to it? How do they think about it? How do they plan? What will they do when they’re caught? In a sense one needs to profile the character. If that’s not done well enough, the reader will exclaim, “He’d never do that!”, and the fictional dream will be lost.

So how does one approach that? Well, it’s actually reverse profiling. Create and understand the bad guy’s psyche, then deduce the behavior that would follow from it. It’s hard work to do that first step. One has to get into the mind of the murderer. One may even have scenes in the book from his point of view. And sometimes those may be unpleasant for the reader (and the writer) even if they are necessary for the story and character development.

It even looks human...

But what about when the mind of the murderer is really far away from anything the writer can conceive? I’m not talking about aliens in science fiction. (With a few exceptions, the aliens are either horrors or their minds work similarly to human minds. Otherwise, how do we relate to them as characters?) I’m thinking of psychopaths who perform grotesque murders apparently almost at random. How do you get into the mind of a murderer so removed from anything your own mind can understand? How believable would be a scene from such a character’s point of view?

John Douglas at the time of the book

Probably most readers of this blog will know the story of how the FBI started profiling serial killers by interviewing them in prison. John Douglas and Mark Olshaker told the story in their book Mindhunter. Douglas faced the same sort of questions, albeit with much higher stakes. Could one develop a good enough picture –physical and psychological – of the killer to be able to predict his behavior (it is almost always a “he”) and what physical and family attributes such a killer probably had. The book was dramatized in a Netflix series of the same name. The most fascinating parts of the series are the selection of interviews with serial killers based on the transcripts of Douglas’s actual interviews with them in prison. Despite stomach-churning crimes, these men are convincing in a way that few purely fictional characters are. The experiences that Douglas had with them enabled him to develop the art of criminal profiling and spread it through seminars to law enforcement. 

Kemper at the time of his arrest

The scenes with Edmund Kemper are particularly intriguing and he seems to be accurately portrayed in the Mindhunter series. A sociopathic killer who was known as “the coed killer” shot his grandparents as a boy, murdered and dismembered six young girls, and battered his mother to death with a claw hammer. He towers six foot nine inches with a weight to match. Yet if you knew nothing about him and met him in the street, you would describe him as well-spoken, intelligent and friendly.

Their technique consisted of sitting down with the convicted killer and asking questions about his background and his crimes. Kemper, in particular, loved to talk about himself and what had motivated him. As he told the story, his motive became believable if not understandable. If you have a psychopathic character, maybe pretend he's been caught, sit him down in prison and interview him the way Douglas did. If he can't convince you of the sense his actions make to him, it's unlikely the reader will be convinced either.

Although we’ve had quite a few pretty nasty bad guys in our books, we’ve never had a chapter from the point of view of a psychopathic serial killer. The closest we’ve come to a serial killer is the witch doctor in Deadly Harvest who kills, or orders killed, people for the black-magic potions that he sells at high prices to rich clients. But like “ordinary” serial killers, power is his real motivation. There is no section of the book from his point of view. He is hidden, unknown, we see his effects on other people, but not from the man himself. Some further evidence of how his mind twisted is revealed at the end, but not by him. In this case, less is more.

He is much like a serial killer. Apart from some clues to the sorts of people he chooses, there is no connection between him and his victims for the police to follow. Also, his clients are rich and powerful people, possibly even within the police. No case could be more daunting to a detective. Unless that detective has his or her own axe to grind as is the case in Deadly Harvest.

We agonized over that witch doctor. Had we managed to create a believable villain? Would people outside Africa be able to relate to the fear that even well-educated local people might hold for such a person? Apparently, we did a good enough job to impress the reviewers and even bag a place on the shortlist for an ITW thriller award for the year.

In our new book we have a different sort of bad guy. He may not have started life as a sociopath, but he’ll get there by the time we’re finished!

Mise en Place: How I Organize My Writing

Sujata Massey                

This year I moved my desk and laptop into the long skinny room running along the back of our third floor. And this has changed not only our house--but also my writing life. 

It’s always been a difficult room. An oddball zone with great windows, but nowhere to place a bed. Back in the 1890s, the room was an afterthought without serious interior function. Doors dominate three of its four walls. Two large windows allow for copious sun all day long, and an adjacent laundry room has its own wrap around windows adding more sun to the party. Our plan for this sunny but awkward room was for it to be the television place. That idea fell apart because we affixed the TV up high on a short wall—a truly terrible location. The couch fit on a wall adjacent to it, not facing, so any attempt to watch resulted in a cricked neck. So we didn’t watch TV there or do much of anything except store and wrap Christmas presents, because nobody would think to go there and snoop. 

I decluttered the room, which also became a catchall for storage, after ten years. I then consulted with Wesley Finnerty, a smart local decorator who knows these quirky old houses. We brainstormed ideas on how how we could turn this room into a writing place because there certainly was room for a desk (although not many bookshelves). I chose a blue and white floral wallpaper print based on Indian woodblocks appropriately called Jaipur. It’s bold and surrounds me in a way that supports focus. I brought up some furniture from downstairs: an old mahogany cabinet with three shelves that could hold supplies, as well as a console that could hold the printer and papers. At auction, I nabbed a mid-19^thcentury settee that was narrow enough for the room. Someone before me had re-upholstered it in a funky blue velour, and it just fit. I also had an ottoman upholstered 25 years ago with a William Morris fabric that has traveled with me everywhere. Why not here? It means I can sit on the settee, put up my feet, prop a cushion on my lap and get to it on the laptop.

Yes, I have a modern office desk and a very comfortable chair. I am there less than half the time.

Moving into this room, though, and having just one cabinet and one console table, has forced me to be a little more organized. My typical style is to keep research materials for each book in a large cardboard box, and to stack pages on desks and any other surface I can find. Now, I’ve moved more into using folders…and keeping folders in cases. And I'm also recycling papers faster than I used to.

I truly wish I could adjust to digital storage. But my mind doesn’t remember things as well when I read them online. This is why I print out my pages as I go along to be able to see my repetitions of ideas and other errors. When writing a 110,000-word novel—as my books tend to average—I keep track of more than a dozen important characters, all of whom have their own physical and linguistic traits, their own schedules, and roles in the story. As a historical mystery writer, there’s the added necessity of research (aka the fun part). Every writer has their own methods, but this is what I’ve fallen into over my 30 year-career:

Boxes. They are not spread out willy-nilly like before, but I am keeping just one modest-sized box in this room. It's the place where I protect any information I’ll need to refer to while writing. I typically gather facts from old books and records housed at the Ames Library of South Asia at the University of Minnesota. It's 1100 miles away, and I get there just once or twice a year. The fastest way I can save pages from rare books for detailed reading later is by snapping photos on my phone that I read later. Some of these I’ve printed out to serve as a weird kind of photocopy. I also snap a shot of the book and author and publisher details in case I want to mention it in the acknowledgments or even try to buy a used copy from somewhere in the world, if it still exists. 

Folders. I keep folders within the boxes of subcategories of information. For example, I have a folder about Dadar Parsi Colony, where my character Perveen lives, with a rough map and articles about the history of the place. I also take photographs of this Parsi colony each time I visit Bombay, just as I take photos of preserved architecture in other historic areas, like Fort and Malabar Hill. Other much-used folders relate to British colonial government and police organizations, women in law, and sari fabrics. And food, naturally!

 

Character Sheets. I came across this concept when searching online, and there are a lot of PDFs of character sheets to play with. These worksheets ask the writer to record details about each character and are guides for keeping facts straight in the current book, and future books if you happen to be writing a series. I have made them for Perveen’s family members and her closest friends. The trickiest parts are remembering the date of a character’s birth, so the people have ages that are correct in relation to the series’ progression. For instance, Perveen was born in 1898, so for the book I’m writing now, set in 1923, she’s 25. The only character I wish I could age faster is the book’s resident infant: Khushy Mistry. I am frankly tired of a character who can’t walk or speak. In the current book, Khushy has made it to 14 months—hurray! 

 

Index cards and Timelines. I write mysteries, and once I’ve got to the point in the story where someone dies, timelines and who-was-where-when becomes very important. As I get into a second draft, I usually find I need to rearrange some scenes and also remember what happened at various stages: when people could know the facts that I say they know. I summarize each chapter on an index card and tape it along with a bunch more (my books are typically 32 chapters) to a 17-inch manilla envelope. That envelope serves as a flexible kind of bulletin board that I can lay down on the carpet and study.  I probably should put up a bulletin board on my fantastic wallpaper, but I’m a little fearful of getting the spot wrong. Besides, envelopes are good because the surface for the cards needs to be a long vertical space, rather than horizontal. 

Notebooks. Oh, how I love them. And I never turn down freebies. While on the road, you can carry a small notebook in your bag or pocket and take it out to jot down notes that people tell you—or details that you observe. The key is to mind your handwriting, going slow and carefully enough that you can read your own writing later. This is a genuine problem for me.   

A library of books. Most of the novels and nonfiction I keep about India can’t fit in the new study. However, I bought an antique brass expanding book rack on ebay that can be set on any desk or surface. It can be pulled wide enough to hold 20 books upright, or be collapsed to hold as few as five. I can imagine students of the early 20^th century traveling to a dormitory or boarding house and setting up their row of necessary textbooks in such modest racks. 

Reviews. Not all writers want to read their reviews, especially on the internet. However, in the golden days when my career started, newspapers and magazines printed lots of book reviews, and wrote feature articles about authors, too. Even though I don’t read these things, it’s lovely to have a clipping about The Sleeping Dictionary from the Baltimore Sun of 2013, or a color photocopy of clipping about The Salaryman’s Wife from People Magazine “Page Turner of the Week" from1997. I also store marketing materials (like how to strategize Instagram, etc) in the same area.

How-Tos: I keep a section of craft books not for sewing, but for get-back-to-writing inspiration. I keep them together in the library, though I might allow one down in the study for times I get antsy. I am trying to get my hands on a paper copy of Virginia Woolf’s long essay, A Room of One’s Own, which bursts with indignation, activism, and amazing details of early 20^th century English literary life. 

There you have it: the scaffolding that surrounds me as I embark on a new book. Protective walls, powerful sun streaming through the windows, and all the necessary aids. But it’s not until little Daisy the terrier jumps up on the ottoman, that this writer’s mise en place is complete. 

Sick And (not 'Of') Fixing Doors on Bookshelves

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

My office is a bookmess right now because I've decided I need glass doors on my bookcases (to keep off dust without hiding my books) and there will be some Drilling involved.
I tried hanging curtains originally--they looked nice, but I missed seeing the bookspines looking back at me. And it was a nuisance to push them apart every time I wanted to pick up a book. Now to figure out what use to put these nice pieces of cloth to...

I thought it was the dust and exertion that was making me sniffy and tired but after three days I have to admit I may have picked up a bug.

And I've decided to enjoy it. Right now, there’s nothing urgent hounding me. I should be able to keep up with my daily quota on the WIP (Tembusu Tree) by working through my notes--though trying to decipher my handwriting makes my eyes sting and water!

I've been going walking--very slowly--having missed three days of pilates/yoga practice because I don’t want to expose anyone else to my germs. I wanted to push my body a little and make myself uncomfortable enough so I wouldn't get used to wallowing about doing nothing. (Also being outdoors in natural light around trees is supposed to be healing, isn't it?)

They were lovely walks because I allowed myself to go slowly and take my time and enjoy the wild orchids along the way.

And isn't this a nice spot for a 'last seen at' post?!

Another lovely sight was this banyan tree, with aerial roots all over the path--

Some people believe that chewing gum from Banyan tree's aerial roots can ease gas and digestive problems. It's also supposed to prevent tooth decay and gum disease.

On the flip side, sleeping under a banyan tree is considered very dangerous because the spirits of the tree emerge in the night to suck out your life force and good luck. Not only that, but it's considered bad luck to build your home near a banyan tree because if the tree's shadow falls on your house at a certain time of day, it will create disharmony within the family.

Admittedly, some of the banyan tree's bad reputation may have come about because it's said to be the tree most often used by the British to hang local rebels who resisted British colonisation.

So yes it's a very interesting tree and I almost wish I were writing about it now, much as I love the Tembusu!

Willa Cather says, there are some things you learn best in calm, and some storm. In the same way I guess there are some things you read best in health and some in sickness.

Here's to herbal teas and meds and reading slowly so I can pick up the wild orchids on the pages I might otherwise skim past!

And I'm so looking forward to The Thursday Murder Club (Yay! Helen Mirren!!!) starting soon on Netflix!

Wishing everyone good health, great happiness and lots of reading (the best kind of wealth!)