Josie Lynn Books: Imagine the Possibilities

Tag: a writer’s life

  • Literary Allusions…Not Illusions

    I have blogged quite a bit about Pride and Prejudice for the simple reason that I happen to love Pride and Prejudice. I love the characters. I love the story. I love the writing.

    However, lest I give the impression that my obsession with appreciation of Jane Austen’s writings begins and ends with Pride and Prejudice, I would like to take this opportunity to say a few things about Northanger Abbey.

    For the longest time, I regarded Northanger Abbey as a throwaway Jane Austen novel, the one you could skip reading and simply watch the movie, if that. Perhaps this was because I saw the 1987 BBC movie first and found it dull, dreary, and dismal, giving one the impression that one was watching it on television set that was in the process of dying a slow, painful death, whether or not this was the case.

    I couldn’t get into the story. I couldn’t get behind any of the characters. I thought the whole idea was implausible and I simply didn’t care about any of it. At all.

    However, when Masterpiece Theater was rebranded as Masterpiece all of those years ago and all of the hopelessly dated 1970s and 1980s versions of Jane Austen movies (except for Pride and Prejudice) were revamped, I watched them all and, for the first time, Northanger Abbey piqued my interest. Prompting another, this time successful, attempt to read the novel.

    The curious thing, however, is how much it reminded me of my middle-grade novel, Maxwell Parker, P.I.,1 in that:

    1. The heroines are both avid readers
    2. Both heroines have overly active imaginations
    3. Both heroines have an unnatural interest in guts, gore and gruesomeness
    4. Both heroines suspect someone of an atrocity and then take steps to investigate

    My novel Maxwell Parker, Love Doctor, the sequel to Maxwell Parker, P.I., seems to be loosely based on Emma, another Jane Austen novel I came to late in my Jane Austen reading experience. Ironically enough, I started to/attempted to read Emma when I was about ten or eleven years old. I picked it up off the shelf at the library and opened up to the first chapter and read the first line: “Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

    Miss Austen, I regret to inform you that this first line did not speak to ten-year-old me. Bratty, over-privileged Emma Woodhouse did not seem like a kindred spirit and I had no desire to spend any time with her, so on the library shelf she remained, and I did not become an Austen fan until I was sixteen-years-old and met kindred spirit, Elizabeth Bennet, whose opening line I much preferred. No matter. I like the book now, although, like my heroine, Maxwell, I still find Emma to be “so annoying.”2

    Just for the record, neither of my two Maxwell Parker books were intended to be reimagined Jane Austen books. Any resemblance is entirely a happy coincidence. However, I am in the process of writing a third Maxwell Parker book, and which, if any, Jane Austen book will end up inspiring it is anybody’s guess right now. As they used to say, back in the days before streaming and on-demand programming, stay tuned.

    1. Maxwell Parker, P.I. was published in 2014, but it was written long before I watched the 2007 version of Northanger Abbey. ↩︎
    2. Maxwell Parker, Love Doctor, p. 262 ↩︎

     

  • Whatchamacallit…Part One

    Whatchamacallit…Part One

    Meerkat Misidentified

    I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that the first time I ever saw a meerkat was in The Lion King. Shocking…but true.

    Suricate family standing in the early morning sun looking for po
    What’s this called?

    In fact, the first time I saw The Lion King I had no idea what Timon was. Embarrassingly enough, I thought he was a poorly executed rat, but then someone kindly explained to me that he was a meerkat. And at first, I thought they were saying he was just a cat, or simply a cat, but then they patiently explained that there is an entire species of animals called meerkats that are not related to cats…or rats, but to mongooses, which I was familiar with because of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. So having that all cleared up, I still didn’t exactly appreciate meerkats because the cartoon version still resembled a rat that walked around on its hind legs (as cartoon mammals are prone to do regardless of how they get around in real life, e.g., Mickey, Minnie, Pluto, Bugs, and Remy from Ratatouille, to name but a few), and because the name still sounded to me like someone was trying to disparage my beloved cats, the way someone might dismiss another’s suitability, saying, “He’s a mere child…”

    Then I saw a nature show on PBS about meerkats and I realized that they are much cuter and much more charming in the flesh. Unfortunately, this program was about a family of these endearing little critters who were on a collision course with destiny, in the form of (1). a famine (gasp), (2). the debilitating effects of inbreeding (wait…what?), (3). lions (boo), and (4). jackals (hiss). I cried…and wondered how it was that people who make these nature documentaries can sit there filming while living creatures are being brutalized right in front of them…and now, with the advent of camera phones, it all begins to make sense…

    Getting Closer to the Point

    But I’m not here to talk about what an adorable little, upright, ground-dwelling animal is called. I’m here to talk about what a group of adorable little, upright, ground-dwelling animals is called.

    And that leads me to the real, actual purpose of today’s post. Do you ever wonder about the specific name for a certain animal group?

    Two common, slightly generic group designations are herd or flock, as in a herd of cattle, giraffes, zebras, antelopes, elephants, etc… or a flock of sheep, goats, ducks (birds, in general), camels, etc.  It’s also interesting to note that these words also refer to the action of gathering animals or people together (as in Corgis were bred to herd cattle) or to the action of animals or people moving together as a group (as in They flocked to the Apple Store to buy the latest iPhone).

    A few more common group designations are school, pride, and pod. Who hasn’t heard of a school of fish or a pride of lions? And the term pod can refer to groups of sea mammals, like seals, walruses, and whales, and even to sea-faring birds, like pelicans.

    But some group designations are slightly more obscure. Which brings me back to the aforementioned meerkats. A recent trip to the zoo revealed that a group of meerkats is called a mob. Who knew? Not to be mistaken for a flash mob, but rather a mere mob (so don’t go envisioning a planned spontaneous assemblage of meerkats getting down to Rachel Platten’s Stand by You. That would be cute…but it’s not going to happen).

    Some group designations are fun and alliterative like a gaggle of geese, the aforementioned mob of meerkats, or the aptly named pandemonium of parrots. And if you’ve ever seen a flock of wild parrots, then you know exactly what I mean! Other group designations conjure up pretty amazing mental images: an army of frogs, a flutter of butterflies, a gang of elks (“…if they say blades, I say blades. If they say guns, I say guns…”). Or how about this one that we may have learned from Sting’s All This Time, which memorably mentions a murder of crows, leading me to wonder, who comes up with these words?!

    Ah…words. Gotta love ’em…or at any rate, use ’em!

    Happy writing!

  • A Caterpillar’s Life

    A Caterpillar’s Life

    While watching Frozen Planet, I was introduced to a creature known as the woolly bear caterpillar. Woolly bear caterpillars have become my new favorite insect, replacing my former childhood favorite, the lady bug. Mind you, I still think lady bugs are cute, but the woolly bear caterpillar has a lot going for it starting with (but not limited to) an extremely cute name. Eventually, it turns into a quite spectacular moth, which is perhaps not as overtly glamorous as a butterfly, but few things in nature are. Butterflies are in a class unto themselves. People chase them. They collect them. They make up cool philosophical sayings about them, such as this affirmation commonly found on motivational posters and wall art:butterfly quote

    I have many fond memories of chasing ever elusive butterflies the way people tend to chase dreams or happiness. My memories of moths are of finding them burned to a crisp inside an outdoor light fixture and pitying their fatal attraction so, needless to say, I never imagined that the life cycle of a moth could be in any way motivational. Then I met the woolly bear caterpillar.

    Life Lessons From the Woolly Bear Caterpillar

    Woolly bear caterpillar
    Closeup of woolly bear caterpillar

    The woolly bear caterpillar starts life as a rather cute, furry little creature with a voracious appetite for leaves (thankfully, not wool coats). During the spring and summer months it eats as much and as fast as it can, in a valiant attempt to store up enough reserves to fulfill his destiny of becoming a moth. Metamorphosis apparently takes a lot of energy. Alas, the woolly bear caterpillar is not successful on his first attempt. When fall comes, he slows down and, with the onset of winter, comes to a complete stop—his heart stops, his breathing stops, and his body freezes. The caterpillar produces a kind of antifreeze that prevents his body from crystallizing as it freezes, otherwise he would freeze to death.

    Spring comes. The caterpillar thaws and begins eating again. But once again, he doesn’t have enough time to gather the required reserves before the freeze sets in, so he waits out the winter in a frozen state. This happens again and again…and again…

    Finally, one spring when the caterpillar is fourteen years old—the last spring of his life—he reaches his goal. After fourteen years of preparation, he has finally eaten enough and is ready to spin his cocoon. After a fashion, he emerges from the cocoon as a beautiful moth, finds a mate and lives happily ever after (as happily ever after as is possible for a moth, anyway). I watched the woolly bear caterpillar’s inspiring story and found myself routing for the little guy. (“Come on, Little Caterpillar. Eat. Eat faster. Winter’s coming. You can do it. Don’t give up.”)

    It made for good television: there was tension/drama, there was a villain, and our hero triumphed against the odds. Plus, there were life lessons, especially for aspiring writers.  The woolly bear caterpillar did several things that made him successful, and following his example can help us reach our writing goals.

    The woolly bear caterpillar:
    1. Continued to work at his craft.
    2. Took advantage of favorable seasons and did what he could when he could.
    3. Was not discouraged by minor setbacks that were beyond his control.
    4. Didn’t allow a period of inactivity to result in death.
    5. Was in a position to take advantage of the right conditions when they prevailed and, as a result, he thrived.

    As writers, we must have determination and a good work ethic. Sometimes we can create opportunities, but we often have to wait for the right conditions. The waiting period—the time between working toward a goal and realizing that goal—might feel like death. The trick is to develop a figurative elixir (coping mechanisms) that will protect us from succumbing to the deep freeze of discouragement. When preparation and favorable conditions meet, the results will be magic.

    In the end, diligence and persistence will pay off—just ask the woolly bear caterpillar. He prepared and waited fourteen years for his shining moment. The lesson? Never give up.

  • Top 10 Meaningless Expressions

    As writers, we try to put down on paper exactly what we mean to say. The goal, generally, is clear, concise communication. When it comes to verbal communication, we’re often not as fastidious, sometimes preferring to say everything besides what we mean to say. In honor of that tendency, I’ve compiled a list of ten meaningless expressions that I’m sure we’ve all been guilty of hiding behind at one time or another. If your goal is clear, concise communication, avoid these like the plague. However, if your intention is verbal subterfuge, this one’s for you…

    1. We’re sorry for/We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.

    I find that this is a statement commonly used by people, businesses, or organizations whose lack of competence, planning, etc. is currently inconveniencing their customers and they typically could care less and plan to do nothing to eliminate similar blunders in the future.

    1. Thank you for your patience.

    Just so you know (see #4), this is not an admission of fault, but a general acknowledgement of the public’s patience, generally at a time when the public has no choice but to be patient (i.e., when something we are waiting for and have paid for is (1) late, (2) cancelled, or (3) not coming). Rather than thanking us for our patience, how about stop trying it.

    1. Sorry if I offended you.

    This is a poor excuse for an apology. Apologies should be specific and sincere. They should not resemble the line in that Take That song: “Whatever I did, whatever I said, I didn’t mean it….” Not good enough. I’m sorry, you should know what you did and apologize for that and keep your smug statements to yourself.

    1. Just so you know…

    This phrase tries to pass itself off as a harmless FYI, but it is usually delivered with the nastiness of a smack down (I’m not sure why). It’s usually not a news bulletin that follows, but a rude instruction.

    1. This isn’t going to hurt.

    Commonly told to small children just before they are stabbed with a needle. It is never true. They never tell adults it isn’t going hurt, because this lie works exactly once.

    1. This will only hurt a little.

    Any poke, prick, stab with a needle hurts. And pain is relative. The way I like to measure it is how I felt before being jabbed versus how I feel after being jabbed. Pain level before jab=0. Pain level after jab=10. There’s no such thing, in my book, as hurting a little.

    1. It’s not right for our list, but maybe another publisher will feel differently.

    I think I’ve address this one in a previous post (or here).

    1. It’s not you, it’s me.

    This should be fairly self-explanatory, but just in case it isn’t, allow me to assure you, it is you. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be right for someone else…

    1. Please don’t take this the wrong way…

    This means there isn’t going to be a right way to take it…What follows is going to smart. Sorry.

    1. I’m not trying to be nosy, but…

    I think people think this makes their insolence cute. Sort of like when Lady Rosamund told the Dowager on Downton Abbey: “I’m afraid you’ve read somewhere that rudeness in old age is amusing. And it’s quite wrong.” Actually the Dowager’s zingers are quite amusing. But being asked personal questions by a total stranger is slightly less so.

  • A Writer Writes…Always

    “A writer writes always” is something Larry, a character in Throw Momma From the Train, tells his creative writing students. 

    (Disclaimer: in the interest of complete transparency, now would be a good time to admit that I remember most of the lines from Throw Momma From the Train. What can I say? I like—in no particular order—1. movies about writers, 2. Billy Crystal, 3. Danny DeVito, and 4. twisted re-makes of Hitchcock films.*)

    I suppose the line resonated with me because I have always considered myself a writer, and because the line happens to be true. A writer does write…always. You can’t stop it, it just happens. Sort of like Kevin James’ dance moves in Hitch.

    [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50YQeugOMOw?t=2m00srel=0&w=560&h=315]

    I write because when I was a little girl, my mother took me to the library on a day that a famous children’s book writer was having a meet and greet. “Go on, talk to him,” she nudged, but being shy, I was content to watch from a comfortable distance. Still, that day I learned that writers were regular people. If I hadn’t seen him, it would have taken quite a bit of effort to convince me that books were written and didn’t just exist, like facts.

    I write because in junior high, after having consumed every book in the house, my mother showed me her black binder that looked ancient to me because she’d had it since college. “It’s a book I was going to write,” she told me, and I read it. My mother wrote stories, submitted them, and was never published.  So, I decided to continue her tradition.

    When I was seventeen something extraordinarily ordinary happened to me and sparked an idea that became a novel. I typed it up and sent it to agents and editors and anyone whose address I could find.  And it came back, again and again…and again. It didn’t happen the way I would have written it, but nothing ever does.

    Finally, an agent wrote back with the words I’d dreamed of hearing: “Your novel has the potential to be a best seller.” All it needed, she assured me, was a final edit by a professional, and she knew just the guy. You can probably guess the rest of that story—it’s been written before. But the point of my version is that I was young, hopeful, and ultimately crushed.

    After that fiasco, writing didn’t hold the same allure it once had. I felt like throwing in the towel, switching to some other career that was less gut-wrenching/disappointing. So, I stopped writing. I stopped sending out my unsolicited manuscripts. I stopped reading magazines about writing. I stopped dreaming. But I couldn’t stop the stories. Eventually, I knew something better than I knew lines from Throw Momma from the Train: A writer doesn’t write for publication. A writer isn’t a writer because she is published. A writer writes, always. End of story.

    Maxwell Parker, P.I. 3D cover 2022*After watching Throw Momma From the Train (as an impressionable young girl), I had to see the original movie…Strangers on a Train. I regret to report that this led to a life-long addiction to** Hitchcock movies. A similar fascination with Hitchcock is what inspires my protagonist Maxwell Parker to suspect her new neighbor of murder in Maxwell Parker, P.I. The lesson? You never know what will happen when you introduce Hitchcock to a preteen with an over-active imagination!

    **”a life-long addiction to” may be too strong a choice of words. Maybe “an extreme liking of” would be better. Because I can quit anytime. Really…I can…

    • What about you…why do you write?

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