Pat Bertram's Blog, page 133

A Whole Lot of Connecting Going On

[image error] I’ve had a fabulous week so far. Dance classes were wonderful. The people who spew negative energy (or maybe they just soak up all available energy, which feels like the same thing) were absent, so only those of us whose energies flowed together were in class. Yeah, I know — that’s not why most people take dance class, but for me, that energy is the real joy. I absolutely love dancing in a group when everyone’s steps match, when every arm movement is the same. It’s odd even for me to realize how much the independent iconoclast that I am can enjoy such an interconnected activity, but that could be why I like it — it’s not part of my usual hermitic life.

Another great thing that happened was that I finally figured out what to do with my Suspense/Thriller Writers group on Facebook. I’d come to hate the group — there were always problems, the most recent one concerning the image of my books on the header. Since I don’t allow promotions in the group, many people objected to my promoting my own books. And for some reason, there was an upsurge of such complaints yesterday. I finally got angry and said, “I have tried everything I can to accommodate people, but no matter what I did, there were problems. If could delete this group, I would. My compromise is the header. Anyone who objects can leave the group.” One sage woman responded, “I don’t see where there’s a ‘compromise’ in allowing only a promotion of the admin’s work. Maybe the page title should be singular, not plural.”

So that’s what I did — changed the group’s name to Suspense/Thriller Writer (meaning me!). And I very blatantly put up a new header to showcase all of my books. I also changed the group’s description to reflect that it’s a discussion group connected to my author page on Facebook. I don’t know why, but it makes me smile to think of reclaiming the group for my own. If anyone doesn’t like it, they can leave.

Today I tried hiking with a pack again. I wasn’t out long — only about an hour, but it felt good. It didn’t feel as if I were exacerbating whatever bit of my thigh I tore last week, but I’m glad I took it easy. The funny thing is, the pack actually felt comfortable, and it wasn’t until I got back that I realized I hadn’t used the sternum strap. The strap is supposed to help support the load and to keep the pack from shifting from side to side, but if most of the weight is on my hips, I’m not sure the strap is necessary. Still, I will experiment. It’s possible I need a strap, just not the one that comes on the pack.

And best of all, I’ve been writing! After all these years, I finally feel as if I am connected to the story again.

This post started out as a list of things that made me smile this week, but I just realized there is a better theme here: connectivity. Feeling connected in dance class, connecting my Facebook group to my author page, connecting the shoulder straps with the sternum strap and the pack to my body, and connecting to my writing. A whole lot of connecting going on!

Wishing you joy of your own connections.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Group as Character

I’ve been working on my decade-old manuscript, and it’s actually going well. I just have one problem you might be able to help me with.

Several of the characters are part of group, and the group will be disappearing en masse. The fact of the disappearance won’t be shocking because such things have already happened in the story, though it will sadden the two left behind [image error]and help set up the final act of the story.

I’ve been mostly developing the group roles and trying to present the group itself as a character rather than the individuals in the group because none of them individually advances the story. Consequently, I haven’t done much besides give the individuals brief profile sketches and conflicts within the group, but now I’m wondering if that’s enough.

Since the story is told from a single viewpoint — the main character — any development of other characters has to come from what that one character can observe. A couple of the characters hate the hero and would not tell him anything, so I haven’t given them much of a background, but should I find a way to tell their backstories? Is it necessary?

WRITERS, how fully do you develop your minor characters, especially characters who are going to be killed off?

READERS, how fully do you want to be invested in such characters? Would you feel more cheated if you had to invest time and emotion in such characters only to find out they weren’t pivotal to the story, or would you feel more cheated by not being able to invest emotion in them at all?

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Quantum Banking

The workings of the modern world seem unnecessarily complicated at times. On March 3, I put in an order to a vitamin company. I ordered one particular size of a product, but somehow, because I had another browser window open to look at various other sizes of the item, the shopping cart blipped and I ended up with the larger size, which I could never use before the expiration date. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the change until it was too late.

I immediately called the company to ask them to change the order. They said they couldn’t make the change, but since the charge hadn’t gone through, they could cancel the order and then I could reorder. The woman I talked to mumbled something about a hold on my bank account (although these phone folks were in the Philippines rather than India, there was still a bit of an accent problem). So I asked for an explanation. Apparently, as soon as I placed the order, they put a hold on the funds in my bank account, and although they could cancel the order, they could not cancel the hold. So the money was in my account, but not.

Since I couldn’t use the money, I couldn’t redo the order because the money was already on hold. Nice, huh?

Also, they refused to send me an email saying they cancelled the order. So not only couldn’t I use the money, I had no guarantee that they wouldn’t at some point decide to take out the funds.

So, come Monday the fifth, I called my bank to see what my balance was. And sure enough, the money was missing. When I told the teller the problem, she looked further and said the money was there, but it wouldn’t show on my balance until the hold “fell off.” She also said the hold was placed just that day.

So, the company had cancelled the order but two days later still put through the hold. I called the company, and they said they couldn’t do anything about it, that the bank would have to. The bank said they couldn’t do anything about it, the company would have to. And both said there was nothing I could do about it.

Every day for a week I called the bank for my balance, and every day they assured me the funds were still there but on hold. And every day they said that the hold would probably fall off that night. It didn’t.

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So I had money but I didn’t have money. Sort of like quantum physics where a thing is both alive and dead at the same time until it is observed, and no one was observing my money.

On Friday, the ninth, a bank employee looked further and discovered that the hold would expire on the tenth, but that because it was a weekend, it wouldn’t fall off until the twelfth. You guessed it. Come the twelfth, the money was still on hold.

Sheesh.

The bank wouldn’t tell me what would happen if the hold never fell off. They wouldn’t tell me if they would ever release the funds. They wouldn’t tell me how long they would keep the funds in limbo.

Luckily, before the banks closed tonight, the funds reverted to my account. How does the money revert to the account when it was always there? I don’t know. But such is the nature of quantum banking.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Blogging, Writing, Planning

This doesn’t seem to be a night for writing a blog — I’ve been sitting here playing games for the last hour with a totally blank mind — and yet, I hate to break the habit of daily blogging. It’s one of my few creative disciplines, and generally, if I let myself take a night off, the next thing I know, weeks have gone by without a single post.

To be honest, I already broke the string of daily blogs at about day 101, but since it was a mistake — I thought I posted something but didn’t — it didn’t affect the habit. But I suppose that raises the question — is it better to blog with nothing to say, or is it better to keep my computer closed?

Well, since I’m here, I might as well bring you up to date on the plans for my May trip. So far, I haven’t done much except schedule visits with friends on my way to Seattle. I had planned to camp at the Carrizo Plain National Monument, but the roads to campgrounds and dispersed camping areas are not paved, and I’m not sure I want to risk getting caught on muddy roads, especially since I would be there in the middle of the week when there would be no park personnel.

I’m thinking now I’ll drive in to the plain as far as I can on the paved road to see what if anything I can see — last year there was a super bloom of wildflowers, but this year, because of the lack of precipitation, they are not expecting much color at all. (Same with the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve, but one can hope! I sure would like to see those orange fields again.)

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I might end up spending that first night in a motel, which doesn’t seem very adventurous, but I’m not sure I’d make it all the way up to The Pinnacles National Park, which was to be my next stop. (My map says it’s a national monument; apparently, somewhere along the way, it got a promotion.)

I still have weeks before I go, so I’m not particularly concerned about not having any plans yet. I wish I could be totally spontaneous, just take off and see what happens, but I know what would happen. I would drive until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, get a motel room, then finish the drive the next day. Admittedly, that sort of trip is its own form of adventure, but not the eye-satisfying, spirit-expanding commune with nature that I crave. And anyway, I might have to do that sort of drive on the return trip to get back before the Memorial Day weekend, and I’d prefer not to do it both ways.

Well, what do you know — I wrote a blog tonight after all. Now let’s see if I can manage to do my novel writing stint, too.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Doing Not Much

It’s been a long time since I’ve done nothing. Every day, there is a compelling item on my calendar — either dance classes or backpacking practice — but ever since I popped something in my thigh on Friday, I haven’t done anything. Well, nothing physical, that is. I’ve been taking it easy, reading and writing. Mostly writing.

I still don’t know what happened to my thigh. The tiny pop I felt/heard was definitely some sort of tear, but it doesn’t seem to have caused major damage. There is no bruise, no pain, no limitation of movement except for the limitations I’ve put on myself. I was concerned about exacerbating the tear, but with no real effects from the pop, I don’t suppose it’s necessary to continue resting. Too bad. I’ve really enjoyed these two days of doing not much.

If all continues to be well, I will go to my dance classes this week and hope that by Friday, I will be able to practice backpacking again without ill effects. Unfortunately, I will probably have to reduce the weight in the pack, so that will set me further back in the conditioning process than I want to be, but better such a setback than shouldering the same poundage and destroying my thigh permanently.

Even if I couldn’t go hiking today, I can do it vicariously through my poor benighted (and gaily bedighted) hero since, oddly, he is setting out on a journey across the desert. (Well, not so oddly considering who the author of this journey is!) Luckily, when I go out to the desert for real, I get to wear clothes that cover almost all exposed skin. My poor hero is clad only in that silly pink and lime green polka-dotted loincloth.

Maybe I’ll write an oasis to give him a break from the relentless sun.

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But first . . . more of doing “not much.”

I hope you are having as enjoyable day as I am, and with as little to do.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Spending My Words Wisely

I hope you’re not expecting words of wisdom tonight — I spent all my wise words on my book.

Yep. My book. Imagine that! Although I don’t hurt from whatever popped in my thigh yesterday, I thought I should take it easy, so I spent the day inside. Writing.

It’s been years since I spent so much time in one day on a book, and it was actually fun. I had several stray scenes that I’d once written but had no idea how to incorporate into the book, and now they are all connected to the story but one. That one remaining stray scene is a sex scene that I don’t really remember writing, but I’m glad I did because I don’t have much inclination to write sex scenes anymore, and it was an important scene. So yay! The scene is already written. Problem solved.

Except for that one scene, though, I am to the point in the book where I can write chronologically again, which will be good since telling the story as it happens keeps me in the story.

One thing that might be disappointing is that so many of my minor characters are more caricatures than fully rounded characters, but since most of them are going to disappear, does it matter? Besides, the story is from a single point of view, and since the hero was the group outcast and scapegoat, there wasn’t really much opportunity for him to get to know them.

Since the beginning of March when I embarked on this personal novel writing month, I have added a good 3,000 thousand words to the story, though I still have a minimum of 15,000 to go. I worry that the book will be too short — generally stories that take place in alternate or fantasy worlds are rather long, but those books are usually also told from multiple points of view with multiple subplots. But when you have a single main character, once that character has changed to become what the story needs him to become and has done what the character needs to do, the story must come to a close.

Meantime, my hero has embarked on a journey, so there is still a long way to go, both in the writing and in the story.

We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

Here is a very brief excerpt from my book that amused me today:

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Unable to see more than a few inches in front of him, he stopped. He felt a hard push on his back and realized the sheep was prodding him with a hand-like hoof. Or a hoof-like hand. His brain seemed to skip a cog, and for a moment he had the light-headed feeling that none of this was real—not this world, not the storm, and certainly not the sheepish humanoid. Another prod from the sheep. The cog slipped back into place, and he bowed under the weight of reality.

 

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Pop Goes the . . .

[image error]Today as I was walking — simply walking slowly with a weighted backpack, no false step or stumble — I heard a tiny pop in the front of my thigh. There was no pain, but after walking a bit farther, I felt a faint ache. I had no trouble walking back — the road was downhill all the way, which uses more hamstrings than quadriceps — and when I got to the house and shucked off my pack, I iced the thigh. Now I have it wrapped in an Ace bandage to contain any damage, though there’s still no real pain. It’s entirely possible the effects of any damage will show up tomorrow, in which case I will have to decide if I should rest or if it would be possible to continue my backpack training.

Or it could be nothing.

Still, this is the sort of thing I’ve been concerned about — I know a person can develop muscles at any age. Even the feeblest person can get stronger with a bit of effort. The trouble is that as one is getting in better shape, the body continues to age. My quandary has always been to see if I can get strong enough for a backpacking trip before my body falls apart enough to make it impossible. People always say age is a state of mind, which is true to a certain extent, but age is also a state of body. As of right now, there is no way an average person can reverse the aging process. (I say average person because who knows what mad scientists, holed away in secret laboratories, are cooking up to create everlasting bodies.)

But, as one friend said recently, “What other choice do you have?” We can’t just stagnate, waiting for age to take its toll. We have to try . . . something . . . whatever that something might be. And, for lack of any other dream pulling on me, this fabled backpacking trip is my something.

The more I practice backpacking, the more the dream changes, and it remains to be seen what, if anything, I will end up doing. My research into the Pacific Crest Trail culture makes a thru hike, or even a long section hike, seem less a spiritual journey and more of a bacchanalia, though how people who have hiked all day can have any energy for drinking or sex is more than I can understand. (Admittedly, this is only a small part of the culture, but nothing I want to have anything to do with.)

And then there are the problems of feral dogs, wild bulls, and hikers that disappear off the grid.

Not exactly my idea of a spiritual journey.

I get a bit embarrassed at times when people express their appreciation of my courage and adventurous spirit, because as of right now, my only backpacking experience comes from my local weekend saunters. But even that is something. I mean, how many people strap on a twenty-six pound pack (plus a two-pound belly pack) and go walking. For fun.

Well, we shall see what happens. I hope this “pop” turns out not to be anything serious. I’d certainly hate to give up the dream — whatever that dream might turn out to be — because of something that doesn’t even hurt.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Polka-Dotted Loin Cloths

I have my decade-old manuscript open on my laptop, so the first thing I see when I lift the lid is the last thing I wrote. And this is what greeted me today:

The polka-dotted loin cloths and cave girl outfits did not disappear, but Bob did.

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Seeing that sentence amuses me and makes me excited about working on this new/old book. Not excited enough to actually write, you understand, but enough to keep me thinking about writing. Still, any kind of excitement when it comes to my writing is a good thing.

Actually, I have been writing a few words each day — nothing immortal, just brief bits to connect stray scenes. Much of what still needs to be written are the day-to-day activities of the characters, with enough interaction between the secondary characters and the hero so you get to understand them and their group roles and perhaps care when they meet their ignominious end.

After that, there is the whole last part of the book where the characters that remain find a place to settle down before they are whapped with one final horror.

But, until then, a whole lot of daily details need to be written. Thousands of words worth.

You never know — I might actually write a few of those words today.

Well, perhaps later.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Day Body, Night Mind

I never considered myself either a day person or a night person, and now I see why. I’m both. Or neither.

It seems as if physical activity suits me more in the morning. Before taking dance classes, when my times of exercise were at my discretion rather than scheduled classes, I always preferred to stretch and do weights first thing, then immediately go out walking in the cool of the day.

And mental activity suits me more at night. Late at night, when my brain comes awake, acuity and creativity are stronger than any other time, which is why, when I wrote, I always wrote at night.

Sounds good? Right?

Well, no. It was fine when I was younger and not so physically active, but now my poor tired body shuts down before my brain awakens.

Oddly, though I have trouble falling asleep at night, I have no trouble at all dozing off when I want to do something intellectual. Last night, I actually fell asleep while I was writing. Doesn’t bode well for my writing career!

Still, I did manage to add a few words to the poor moribund manuscript. Now let’s see if I can stay awake long enough to add a few more words tonight before I collapse.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

My Life After All

It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that I’ve been ambivalent about taking dance classes lately. I still love dancing, but now frustration and unhappiness seem to occur more often than joy. It’s not just having to deal with people I don’t want in my life, it’s also feeling that I’m living someone else’s life. I’m not sure why I feel this way after all these years of classes, though I suppose it has a lot to do with my never having had any inclination to be a dancer, not having any natural aptitude for dance, being too heavy for grace, and lacking musicality. I suppose it has even more to do with my sinking back into myself after Jeff’s death catapulted me to hell and beyond, and so I feel more myself than I have in ages, and “myself” is … well, not a dancer, which makes me feel more and more like an imposter. (Oddly, I dance more than I write, but I consider myself a writer even when I don’t write.)

And, of course, there’s my dubious financial situation, which adds even more ambivalence to the issue because I really should be working rather than depleting my savings on ungainful activities.

[image error]It’s no wonder then, that I woke the other morning with these words echoing in my post-dream-state brain: You can teach an elephant to dance, but that doesn’t make her a dancer.

Still, I have the strange idea that I can get stronger, more agile, and more balanced by combining the dance classes with the backpacking saunters, and before I settle down to some ridiculous job, I want a chance to see what I can do physically.

If I am ambivalent about dancing, it’s nothing compared to my ambivalence about long distance backpacking. Even if by some miracle, sheer determination, or a combination of the two, I am able to carry the weight I need, it’s still remains to be seen if my body will cooperate.

For example, I’d been feeling a pinch in one knee occasionally when I went uphill and a pinch in the other when I went downhill, so I researched how to walk downhill properly, and then my knees really started to hurt! Apparently, the advice was all wrong for me. It was more for powering down a hill rather than saving one’s knees. So now that I’ve found the right “right way” (hypothetically, by shifting weight side to side as you walk downhill, you use more hamstrings than quadriceps, which helps keep the muscles in balance and protects the cartilage), we’ll see if I can keep from destroying my knees.

Still, ambivalent or not, living my life or a borrowed life, I plan to keep moving ahead with the combined strength and agility training. And maybe, someday, whatever I end up doing will feel like it’s my life after all.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.