Some of the Nicest People are Planning a Murder

Some of the nicest folks you'll ever meet are planning a murder--or three. Seriously, it's a puzzlement, when you think about it. Mystery writers--folks who spend their days plotting inventive ways to kill people and hide the bodies--are, as a group, so pleasant.

I'm just back from Sleuthfest in Orlando. This annual event is a writers' conference sponsored by the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America. I saw old friends and met many online friends in person. Everyone I came in contact with was open, friendly, and helpful.

A few standouts (for me) among many workshops offered Thursday were Daniel Palmer's "Coming up with Your 'What If?'" Reed Farrel Coleman's "Building 3-Dimensional Characters," and Hank Phillippi Ryan's "Get Your Motor Going." In addition to presenting helpful content, these folks were all genuinely entertaining. I'm positive all the workshops were just as wonderful, but my efforts to clone myself have been largely unsuccessful, and thus I could only attend one in each time slot--I had to choose. I hate to choose. I'm horrible at making decisions. I digress.

One of the (many) highlights of the conference for me came Friday morning. I arrived early for the panel discussion, "The Traditional Mystery," (one of my favorite panels) and chose a seat near the front center. I like to make sure I don't miss anything. Anyway, I'd been there a few moments, flipping through my program, when I looked up to see Charlaine Harris walking towards me with a friend. For the record, Charlaine Harris is one of my very favorite authors--I know, me and millions of other folks, right?

I'd set my purse on the seat to my left. Charlaine sat in the next seat over. We smiled and said, "Good morning." I tried so hard to act normal and not at all like a lunatic fan. I was mostly succeeding and was so proud of myself that I felt the need to share this information. I turned to her and said, "I'm trying really hard not to act like a total fangirl."

She smiled real sweet and said, "I was just admiring your sweater."

"Coldwater Creek," I said.

And then we had a lovely conversation about how we both loved shopping online in general, and Coldwater Creek in particular, and how if she'd seen that sweater she'd have bought it. Something about Charlaine put me instantly at ease. You know how some famous people travel with an entourage and give off this vibe that screams, "Back off, I'm far too important to be bothered by the little people?" These people are the polar opposites of Charlaine Harris. (None of those folks were at Sleuthfest, of course.) She introduced me to Paula, her friend and assistant, who was equally charming. Truly, I have never met more delightful people.

Charlaine's keynote on Saturday was fabulous as well--humorous, and inspiring. My only disappointment was that I already own all of her books, and had forgotten to bring one to have it autographed.

But you see, she makes my point. This warm, friendly woman has come up with enough creative ways to kill people, not to mention vampires, shape shifters, fairies, and all manner of supernatural creatures, to fill a shelf in my bookcase.

I think maybe writing about murder must be therapeutic. Getting all of your frustrations out by killing off the people who get on your last nerve, even if it's just on the page, must release a happy hormone or some such thing. That's my theory, anyway.

Peace out,

Susan

I Need a Packing Intervention

I'd planned to post more pictures from The Mother of All Road Trips, and write something about our time in every city. But, I'm leaving Tuesday for RWA Nationals, and I have to start packing.

You'd think, maybe, since I just got back from a three-week trip, that I'd have a clue how to pack for six days in Orlando. I thought that, anyway. Until I started reading all the blogs on how and what to pack for Nationals.

Many conference veterans advise things like, "Pack one skirt, one pair of pants, and four tops that you can wear with either." Huh? My sister packs like this, but this is SO not me. I need choices. Who knows what mood I'll be in on any given day? Besides, we're going to be in ORLANDO, which is one big sauna in late July. I can't see myself wearing anything twice, but that's just me, and I have some well-documented neuroses.

Then there's the perennial travel advice, "Bring things you can wear during the day, the slip into evening by changing shoes and accessories." While this SOUNDS like common sense, my wardrobe simply does not lend itself to this strategy. You really can't just slip on pearls and heels with khaki pants, a lacy tank, and a sweater and call it evening wear.

My favorite advice was from the woman who advised taking only nude underwear because it works with everything. Okay--this advice I needed months ago, because I don't have time (or money) to shop for all new underwear between now and Tuesday. I guess I'll just have to try not to show mine.

But I really do need a new laptop case. And a "little black dress." Oh, and some Downy wrinkle release. Gotta go shopping. Maybe I should pick up that underwear while I'm out...

Peace, out...

Susan

South Carolina Writers' Workshop Conference

The voices in my head are singing The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies.

What I'm reading: Even by Andrew Grant

Warning: Do not start reading this book if you have no choice but to put it down and go to work, feed your kids, or head to your mani-pedi appointment. David Trevellyan will haunt you until you pick the book back up. It's that good.

I just got back last night from the SCWW conference in Myrtle Beach. (I haven't even blogged on Bouchercon yet, which was fabulous--more on that later. I know, I'm behind again!)

I arrived in Myrtle Beach on Thursday so I could stare at the ocean and sip mango daiquiris for a day. (My own brand of therapy.) This was a perfect beginning to the weekend.

The conference was awesome. For the first time in three years, I was able to attend without worrying about whether the AV was right in the meeting rooms, all the faculty flights were on time, the critique room stayed on schedule, etc. (As most of you know, I was the conference chairperson in 2007 and 2008. I learned a ton, and had a ball doing it, but it ate into my writing time too much.) Kudos to Carrie McCullough and Lateia Sandifer, this year's chair and co-chair!

I can't begin to cover conference highlights, because there were so many. Every workshop I attended was time well invested. But faculty introductions were a riot...

While the rest of the faculty lined up and took their turn at the mic for introductions, Janet Reid watched from her table sipping something cold. Maybe the second agent at the mic asked, "Why doesn't Janet have to do this?"

The next agent in line introduced himself as Janet Reid. I think that was Jeff Kleinman. That was followed by a series of, "I am Janet Reid...no, I am Janet Reid" introductions--all in good fun.

Then there was the three-way introduction routine that Jenny Bent, Barbara Poelle, and Holly Root performed with flair, followed by the real Janet Reid taking the stage.

As you can tell, we had an awesome faculty and a lot of fun. The keynote speaker, Steve Berry could not have been more gracious, approachable, and encouraging.

Every faculty member (around thirty of them in all) went out of his/her way to encourage writers in all phases of their writing journeys.

I'm home today--first time in a month. I'm digging through laundry and notes from two conferences, but, yes, Julie, I will be on the dance floor at 5:40.

Peace, out...

Susan

Coming Up For Air

Hey y'all. Sorry it's been a while. I'm still writing, still VOLUPTUOUS, and still trying to grow in the former area and shrink in the latter. But things have been hectic lately. I'm a volunteer for the South Carolina Writer's Workshop, and we just had our annual conference this weekend in Myrtle Beach. Actually, to be accurate, I'm on the board of directors, and this year, my assigned task was door prizes and auction items.

Now, if you think about it--and I have, trust me, given this a great deal of thought--it is moronic to sell things to raise money to help support the organization while simultaneously giving stuff away. But we do it. Every year. And by golly, if I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it right. So this year we gave away a ton of stuff. And we sold a ton of stuff. And I'm exhausted.

Writer's conferences are a fantastic way to invest in your development as a writer. I've been to a few over the last several years, and it's incredible how much you soak up, especially from the social events. Just being around a bunch of literary types gets your creative engine all revved up. And it's amazing how generous successful authors, editors and agents are when dealing with crowds of writers who just have one quick question that takes 20 minutes.

Anyway, the conference was a success, and this week I'm traveling with Jim. We're in some corner of Alabama that I was previously unfamiliar with, about an hour outside of Birmingham. I plan to catch up on sleep, writing, and reading.

I'll catch up on Jazzercise next week. Hopefully I'll still be able to fit in my clothes by then. I've been stress eating a lot. Yeah, I know, Diane...There's no way I'll catch up now.

But we had a lot of door prizes.

Peace, out...

Catching My Breath

Okay, I know it's been a while. But I have a trunk of reasons. And they're all boring, so we'll skip those. I'll do better, I promise. The Blue Ridge Christian Writer's conference was awesome! I got back home on the 25th and have been recuperating ever since. There was so much going on it was hard to absorb it all. But I had a great time, made several new friends, met some wonderfully talented folks, listened to some fantastic motivational speakers...and spoke to a terrific agent who agreed to read my first three chapters.
Now, for those of you who are not struggling to get your first novel published, you might not realize what a big deal this is. This is tremendously superb news. I am happy. Please be happy with me. All together now....who-hooo!!
Now the bad news...the food was good but fattening. I did walk a lot, and it was uphill both ways, but I didn't come close to burning off the calories I took in. When three full meals plus three snacks are placed in front of you every day, well pounds tend to accumulate. All of my hard work being tortured by Casey has been undone.
But today, I hauled myself back to the dance floor and also signed up for another session of Personal Torture...I mean Touch.
I signed up for the same class that Shona is in...oh boy, I haven't told y'all about Shona. Shona is the funniest person I know who does not have a microphone. She needs one. The first time I met Shona was in a Personal Torture class the day after Mother's Day. She was allowing as to how she made her children call their daddy's girlfriend and wish her a happy Mother's Day because she likes her and wants her to stick around (so the kids can spend quality time with their daddy, giving Shona a much needed break). I laughed till I cried when she was telling this story, but I can't post all the details until I check with her...she might not want it on the internet. But everything that comes out of her mouth is hysterically funny, so you want her in your Personal Torture class to help keep your mind off the pain and agony.
I've been giving some consideration to the possibility that I'm spreading myself too thin (which is why I seldom have time to BLOG anymore). I'm in three local critique groups, and just palled up with an online critique buddy who I met at the conference. I may be spending more time critiquing and reading other people's critiques of my work than I am actually writing. I am considering cutting back. Also, the thing I'm finding is that often the people doing the critiques have conflicting advice, which requires me to spend an inordinate amount of time deciding who's right.
SO...I'm getting myself back on track, and hopefully will be posting more regularly. In the meantime, on a serious note, y'all pray for Myra and her family. Her mother's real sick and is being transported to a cardiac care facility in Florida.

Peace, out....