"Oops."

Say hello to our friend Susan Shea: author, mystery booster, all-around bon vivant. It's always great to have you on the blog, Susan!

“Oops.”

First, thanks to one of my favorite authors, Sophie Littlefield, for offering me a chance to rub elbows with the fantastic writers on Pens Fatales. To say thanks to the blog readers for checking it out, I’m offering a signed hard cover copy of MURDER IN THE ABSTRACT, the first in a series of mysteries featuring Dani O’Rourke. Leave a comment on this post with an email address by July 22. We’ll throw all the responses in a hat and pick one entirely at random. Good luck!

“Oops” sounds like dumb moves, and I could list some of my own, but that would be lengthy, tedious, and uncomfortable. In real life, mistakes frequently lead to unhappy consequences, everything from running out of gas on the freeway to finding yourself standing in a corner at a party because you realize that sweet salesperson was lying through her teeth when she assured you orange was your best color.

In crime fiction, the stakes are often a lot higher. The protagonist doesn’t tell anyone she’s headed into the abandoned building in search of a man with a knife. The detective gets distracted by the obvious suspect and misses a vital clue to a serial killer. The petty crook gets dragged into a homicide by his stupider-than-dirt brother. Oops.

Why does this happen? Why would a sane woman tiptoe up the stairs in a dark house where she’s just stumbled across a dead body? Because she heard footsteps? Is she crazy? Are we crazy to keep reading? Why do supposedly smart people do things that, in real life, no one would dream of doing?

It’s a fair question for readers to ask, and one that can make us squirm as we’re writing our stories. The bottom line is, of course, we authors need the characters to precipitate action, to challenge the status quo, to ramp up suspense and confusion, and ultimately to lead us to the villain. If our protagonists merely dialed 911 and continued on to the grocery store or the movies, we wouldn’t sell a lot of books. But we have an obligation to answer the question of why as persuasively as we can, to create reasons that entice you, the reader, to suspend belief long enough to get caught up in the drama.


I think it’s one of the hardest tricks to pull off and I salute those who do it well. I remember one of Sue Grafton’s masterful moments when Kinsey, running away from a bad guy, jumps into a trash can and pulls the lid down on her head. She has to crouch there, seemingly for ages, waiting for the agonizing possibility that the man saw her and will suddenly whip the lid off and beat her up. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t read fast enough. I never stopped to think, Why would a savvy private detective put herself in such a vulnerable position? Why not keep running until she found a tree or a gas station, some place where she might have an option to defend herself? Grafton did that magical thing – she seduced me entirely into suspending disbelief.

I don’t remember the details of Kinsey’s internal dialogue, but it’s not hard to imagine her saying, limbs tangled, breath coming fast, “Oops, not a great move.”

-Susan C Shea

www.susancshea.com

Susan C Shea is a former non-profit executive. MURDER IN THE ABSTRACT was her first mystery novel. THE KING'S JAR is the second in the series. She's active in Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime and lives in northern California.

Turning an Oops into a Successful Mistake

The Pens are pleased to welcome back Lisa Alder as our guest today!! Lisa's erotic novella, The Demon's Bargain, is available in ebook format at Amazon, BN.com and Smashwords. Her next novella, To Summon A Demon will be out later this month.


I'm a firm believer in positive thinking. Not only is the glass half full, it's usually half full of my favorite Chardonnay. One of my favorite inspiration people is Tony Robbins. In his fabulous book, Awaken the Giant Within, he talks about how changing how we look at a situation can change our perspective.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this perspective. So much of life is out of our control but the one thing that we can control is our attitude when life's 'oops' happen.

Instead of lamenting the fact that my dishwasher broke because my cat bit holes in the flexible drainage pipe, I've been using my dishwashing time to plot and daydream about plot...working out the details for the third erotic novella, The Demon's Seduction. (okay, I totally am lying, I really hate doing dishes, seriously, hate--however I found the positive in the negative)

Some really great things are the result of 'oops'...Penicillin, Post-Its and Potato Chips are all the results of an 'oops'.

So the next time you have an 'oops' look for the opportunity to turn it into a successful mistake.

Thanks so much to the Pens for having me! You can find me on the web at www.authorlisaalder.blogspot.com , on Twitter @LisaAlderBooks and email lisaalder@pacbell.net

My next erotic novella, To Summon A Demon, will be out soon. I'll leave you with Prince Gaap's cover which is totally HOT!

Lisa

Oops, Martha Did It Again

My mistake. My bad.

Did I do that? Yes? Good.

Here's a little secret: I LOVE SCREWING UP. I absolutely adore making mistakes. In a world where no one wants to be wrong, I want to be wrong all the time.

Please.

Let it be me.

Here's why.

If I screw up, I can fix it and move on.
If someone else screws up, I have to sit around through their requisite stages of denial, anger, frustration, acceptance and maybe, maybe they'll get to rectification.

Here's my advice for being happy:

Make everything your fault.

"But, but, but...my coworker..."

Shush.

"But, but, but...the weather..."

Quiet.

"But, but, but...it wasn't my fault."

Now look what you've done. You've taken your power and you've given it to someone else.

Shame on you.

The next time something goes wrong. Take responsibility. Absolutely. Say to yourself, "This situation is my fault." Then say, "Now what?"

To be honest, this is easy for me in everything except Publishing. In Publishing, I find myself saying the same old things. "Agents are busy. Editors are busy. The industry takes time. Readers aren't buying."

What's left to do but throw my hands in the air?

Unless the problem is, "My book isn't good enough."

Now we're talking. Because if anyone can make my book good, it's me.

Oops-no--thank you, yes!

Thank you to all of our current armed forces serving around the globe and a very special thank you to all of our veterans at home!!

Happy Fourth of July!!

I am so happy to live in a town where the fourth is celebrated and feted every year. Our slice of Americana is both endearing and enduring.

To participate and honor the men and women who serve our country is an honor.

Thank you all!!
Lisa

4th of July

L.G.C. Smith

Best wishes to all for an oops-free 4th of July. No burnt hamburgers. No dogs grabbing the buns and making a run for it. No bottle rockets landing on shake roofs. No letting your kid who's allergic to walnuts eat Aunt Debbie's Waldorf salad--with finely chopped walnuts. No forgetting the charcoal, paper cups, vodka (or your tipple of choice), ice, baseball tickets, sippy cups, benadryl, matches, little flags, sunscreen, etc. No getting ticks or mosquito bites, no crying, whining, or getting caught spitting Grandma's weird green jello salad with cottage cheese, celery, and pineapple into your napkin. Say NO to undercooked chicken. Wear a belt if you have a skinny ass. Hang on to bikini tops in water slides. Don't drop the cake.


That's a cake I dropped. Originally four layers. Coconut. Made with a fresh freakin' coconut. I failed to secure the bottom layer with a dollop of frosting. Oops.

Have a great Fourth!

In Praise Of Screw Ups

--Adrienne Miller

If there was ever a wrong turn, I've made it. Ever a safe bet, I've lost it. I've made more bad first impressions than good ones. I've run my mouth off when I should have been discreet, and I've frozen up in the clutch.

That's me. I'm a screw up. I wouldn't say I'm proud exactly, but neither am I ashamed. There's an upside to being a screw up, especially if you are a writer. I’ve learned some things that you can only discover when you're taking the long way around. Though I have to admit that, just like everything else, it took me a little while to learn them.

1. Failure isn't the end of world. It’s an inevitability. When you start out to do something new and different, you’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to give five wrong answers for every right one. You’re going to do a piss poor job until you learn how to do a good one.

But even then you’re not safe. Trust me, no matter what heights you’ve reached scaling your mountain, you are never immune from falling back down it. Maybe it’ll be hubris that does you in--no, I hear you say, no author has ever been guilty of that--or, maybe dumb luck. All I know is that it doesn’t matter. Because as any good screw up can tell you, it’s not the mistake but what you do after it that matters.

2. Life is not an equation. There is no formula for success or recipe for avoiding pain. There are no set of variables that will lead you straight to the winner’s circle, if only you can figure them out. Hell, I’m not even sure there is a winner’s circle.

Life is a crazy journey. A messy, sometimes joyous, sometimes tragic, always chaotic journey.


3. Playing it safe, isn’t. The middle isn’t any safer than the edges. Don’t believe me, re-read lesson number one. The only difference is that if you stick to the middle, you’ll blend in until you fade away.

When in doubt, listen to your heart. Yeah, it might take in you in all kinds of crazy directions, but, I promise you, you’ll have a hell of a time along the way.

Let Your Freak Flag Fly

--by Juliet

Most kids start their speaking life with “da-da” or “ma-ma” (or whatever their particular linguistic equivalent may be.)

My son’s first word was “Oops.”

It wasn’t even meant seriously, it was an ironic statement. Here’s the scene: He’s sitting in his high chair. I can’t remember his exact age, but he was at that adorable moment when babies move out of the larval stage, but are still new enough to think that Cheerios are an awesome, exciting taste sensation. So he’s chasing Cheerios around on the tray, since actually grasping those critters with brand new fingers is no easy feat, and shoving them into the mouth is yet another challenge.
I was cooking dinner for grown ups, running around the kitchen and clearly not paying him enough attention (this kid, from the day he was born, has been interesting, but NEVER easy) and when I look over, he quite methodically picks up a handful of Cheerios, and while holding my gaze, holds his hand out to the side and drops them, quite purposefully, on the floor.
Then he goes: “Oops.”

“Oops,” even though it wasn’t an oops at all. At least in the sense that it wasn’t really a mistake…or maybe it was an intentional mistake.

I love that. Sometimes you just gotta let your freak flag fly. Sometimes you want to claim your oops moment, hold it close to your heart, decide you’re going to do something even though you know it’s a mistake from the start.
No, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but then often WE don't make a lot of sense. Public health officials are always stymied by the fact that no matter how much they tell us what we should do, we still insist on being foolish, eating sugar and drinking alcohol and having wild sex. I understand their frustration and, of course, we'll all pay if we become an unhealthy populace.
But there’s something wonderful about the very human desire – nay, need--to go out there and do the wrong thing. Mix things up. Incite something. On purpose and with head held high.

So what the heck, from time to time, maybe we should indulge in that crazy love affair. Quit the sensible job and become a writer. Drop the metaphorical Cheerios on the floor, and just see where they lay.

I figure if it’s good enough for the kid, it’s good enough for me.

Oops

Did you see this week's article on the shy and how shyness might be an evolutionary tactic? The author talks about two kinds of people: sitters and rovers.

Sitters are the 20(ish)% of the population who are "watchful, slow-to-warm-up types who stick to the sidelines," and rovers are the remaining 80% who "sally forth without paying much attention to their surroundings." Both have evolutionary advantages and disadvantages: sitting will keep you safe if you are slow to walk into a trap, and roving will keep you rapidly acclimated to differing climes which might help keep you alive.

I am SUCH a sitter. I'm shy. This is hard for people who know me to believe because I'm very friendly and it looks like I leap, early and often. But I don't. I may make quick judgements about things and it might LOOK like I'm leaping, but I'm not. I wish I were.

The the article made something clear to me that I hadn't before understood: shy people are worried about negative attention, whereas introverts just prefer to be alone. Ah! The light bulb went on when I read that. I'm not an introvert. I like to be around people. But the fact that I've always been worried about negative attention creates such a conflict that it's hard to decide which way to go sometimes. I like to sit and watch and determine the best, safest course of action so that I don't make a great OOPS and cause everyone to look at me and laugh (like in fifth grade, when the mime wanted me to form a conga-line behind him, but I jumped on his back instead, misreading his clues to my GREAT chagrin). But I also want to make friends and laugh with new people!

I remember as a child, my ultimate fear was being called on in class. I developed all kinds of methods to avoid it: I'd look my teacher straight in the eye, to make sure she knew I wasn't dodging the question and then I'd become suddenly absorbed in the tip of pencil. Was it sharp enough? Oh! Perhaps it needs sharpening! And then she'd say, "Rachael? Do you know?" And I did, I really did know that the answer was Guatemala, but instead I'd get too nervous to say anything or I'd say, "Guh..." and she'd move on. I'd feel the class looking at me in judgment (which they weren't! But I didn't know that then) and I would want to dig a hole to Australia.

When I was in my early twenties, I was extremely self-conscious about my bad skin. I thought everyone was looking at my acne, all the time. IT WAS ALL ABOUT ME. I thought when I walked down a street that the person who turned aside to whisper to their friend was talking about my skin. It was horrible. I died a thousand deaths every time I went outside, to school, to the store.

I'm not sure how I realized this, but I think it was a combination of therapy mixed with time: I finally figured out: NO ONE CARES HOW I LOOK. Or how anyone else looks. People might notice if my hair is cute. They might notice if there's a big hole in my pants and my ass is hanging out. But apart from that, no one really notices, or cares. I look like Rachael most days, and they like me or they don't. How I apply my eyeliner or how my skin looks doesn't matter a whit. If I gain weight or if I lose it -- it doesn't make people look at me differently. I'm still Rachael to them.

I'm still Rachael to me. Sitter at times, rover at others (hello, RWA National! I'll be roving! I hope!), I'm still just me, and I'm not getting negative attention (unless I walk into a pole in the middle of sidewalk, which is a thing I'm prone to do, and in that case, oops -- just pick me up, and thanks, in advance, for choking your laughter back. I appreciate it).