K.B. Inglee's Blog: The Shepherd's Notes, page 10
August 11, 2014
The Author's Photo
My job as museum interpreter sets me up to have my photo take over and over. Who can resist someone dressed like an 18thcentury farmer’s wife holding a chicken or a lamb? Not something you see every day. I have dozens of such pictures, some quite good, and all appropriate for someone who writes historical fiction.
The picture at the beginning of the website is me sitting down for a cup of tea after spending the day teaching kids about sheep. I have one of me trying to catch the sheep and several of me with a borrowed chicken.
These photos may be picturesque but they aren’t great for picking me out of a crowd. I needed something that could go in a conference book, something that showed I have hair, and something that I could put on a story that wasn’t historical.
So after a couple of years of fooling around I finally asked a friend of mine to take one of me, one of me and my daughter together, just in case we ever did anything together, and one of her.
Yes, she is a published writer, too. No, we will never write anything together. (You can find her at elizabethingleerichards.blogspot.com).
I spent months looking at professional photos of friends. I ruled out the studio
portraits in favor of something more informal. I nailed down the photographer
while the trees were still bare and told him we had to wait for a green background.
Thursday was the day. I tried on half my closet. Bright red silk? Boston Red Sox tee shirt? Purple and gold African print? What should I do with my hair? Makeup or none? I never wear makeup and haven’t since graduate school.
In the end I chose a muted rose knit shirt, no makeup and there wasn’t much I could do about my hair.
Did I tell you that the photographer teaches forensic photography? He kept saying things like “nice skin tone.” But hey, how many mystery writers are immortalized by a person whose job is taking photos of dead people?
I had expected, well, I don’t know what I expected. I could list dozens of things
I didn’t want but I had no idea what I did want.
Once we got started it became clear he knew exactly what he was doing. I got to pick the background and that was about it. A bunch in the grove with out of focus trees behind me, and some up against the rock wall of the Madison Factory.
Smile or not? “Yes, smile as though you like what you do.”
Head shot, 3/4 shot or whole body? He came in close and got my face. There is one shot where I am sitting at the table looking relaxed and happy that shows I am wearing something below my waist.
My daughter joined us, right from work. She works in a warehouse that doesn’t have climate control. This is August. Her hair was frizzy, and she had a coffee stain on her shirt. She looked fine to me.
Couple of shots of the two of us together, then head shots of her.
My very favorite of the whole bunch is the two of us laughing, both with eyes closed and mouths open. We look as thought we like each other and we love what we are doing.
I went home and started a new story to go with my new portraits.
I'd love to know from writers what you looked for in your Author Photo, and from readers, what you think of author Photos.
The picture at the beginning of the website is me sitting down for a cup of tea after spending the day teaching kids about sheep. I have one of me trying to catch the sheep and several of me with a borrowed chicken.
These photos may be picturesque but they aren’t great for picking me out of a crowd. I needed something that could go in a conference book, something that showed I have hair, and something that I could put on a story that wasn’t historical.
So after a couple of years of fooling around I finally asked a friend of mine to take one of me, one of me and my daughter together, just in case we ever did anything together, and one of her.
Yes, she is a published writer, too. No, we will never write anything together. (You can find her at elizabethingleerichards.blogspot.com).
I spent months looking at professional photos of friends. I ruled out the studio
portraits in favor of something more informal. I nailed down the photographer
while the trees were still bare and told him we had to wait for a green background.
Thursday was the day. I tried on half my closet. Bright red silk? Boston Red Sox tee shirt? Purple and gold African print? What should I do with my hair? Makeup or none? I never wear makeup and haven’t since graduate school.
In the end I chose a muted rose knit shirt, no makeup and there wasn’t much I could do about my hair.
Did I tell you that the photographer teaches forensic photography? He kept saying things like “nice skin tone.” But hey, how many mystery writers are immortalized by a person whose job is taking photos of dead people?
I had expected, well, I don’t know what I expected. I could list dozens of things
I didn’t want but I had no idea what I did want.
Once we got started it became clear he knew exactly what he was doing. I got to pick the background and that was about it. A bunch in the grove with out of focus trees behind me, and some up against the rock wall of the Madison Factory.
Smile or not? “Yes, smile as though you like what you do.”
Head shot, 3/4 shot or whole body? He came in close and got my face. There is one shot where I am sitting at the table looking relaxed and happy that shows I am wearing something below my waist.
My daughter joined us, right from work. She works in a warehouse that doesn’t have climate control. This is August. Her hair was frizzy, and she had a coffee stain on her shirt. She looked fine to me.
Couple of shots of the two of us together, then head shots of her.
My very favorite of the whole bunch is the two of us laughing, both with eyes closed and mouths open. We look as thought we like each other and we love what we are doing.
I went home and started a new story to go with my new portraits.
I'd love to know from writers what you looked for in your Author Photo, and from readers, what you think of author Photos.
August 5, 2014
Learning to Write
Yesterday was blog day and I missed it. Not for want of trying. Dead computer, weekend at a conference, several false starts.
Let’s try again.
Almost since I put pen to paper (I wrote my whole first novel on yellow pads) I have sought out people to read and comment on my work. Sometimes it is helpful and sometimes it isn’t.
I have been a member of three different critique groups where the member sat
around in a room and talked about each others offerings. The first group
actually taught me to write. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut and
listen. I would then go home and read over the comments, accept those I felt had merit and ignore the others. Thank you Doug.
My second group was extremely helpful but was not genre specific so some of the comments were a tad strange. A short story set in Rhode Island during the Civil War didn’t have enough battles for a war story. A clue artfully hidden in the early part of the story didn’t stand out enough for one reader. Well, that ‘s the point when you are writing a mystery. Thank you Joanne.
My current group is made up of experienced mystery writers.
All three groups were perfect for the level of writing I was doing when I was in
them, each expanded my understanding of writing, each was necessary.
Usually I can accept criticism for what it is. The person offering it is usually
sincere, and hoping to help me be a better writer, as am I in critiquing their
work.
But once…
I had submitted the first chapters of the novel I was working on to a contest. I
would get back two critiques and if the work was good enough I would get a third and be in the running to win. I wasn’t expecting to win, but I was expecting to be moved to the next level. After all I had ten stories in print. I was shocked by the comments “telling not showing,” “beginning writer,” “stick with it, dear, you will get better.”
I don’t blame the critiquers for this, I blame the writing but darned if I could
figure out what to do about it. So I set the novel aside thinking some day when
I had more distance I could look at it with new eyes. I never did.
I didn’t stop writing or submitting but that particular work may as well have been sealed in a chest and tossed into the ocean.
One of the speakers at the conference may have sent me in the right direction. As the protagonist is looking out the window and sees a friend getting his horse
out she never tells the reader what she is feeling.
This may be the right or the wrong answer, but at least I can now go back and look.
The real moral of this story is don’t be afraid to seek criticism of your work. It
will make you a better writer. Even if it hurts.
Let’s try again.
Almost since I put pen to paper (I wrote my whole first novel on yellow pads) I have sought out people to read and comment on my work. Sometimes it is helpful and sometimes it isn’t.
I have been a member of three different critique groups where the member sat
around in a room and talked about each others offerings. The first group
actually taught me to write. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut and
listen. I would then go home and read over the comments, accept those I felt had merit and ignore the others. Thank you Doug.
My second group was extremely helpful but was not genre specific so some of the comments were a tad strange. A short story set in Rhode Island during the Civil War didn’t have enough battles for a war story. A clue artfully hidden in the early part of the story didn’t stand out enough for one reader. Well, that ‘s the point when you are writing a mystery. Thank you Joanne.
My current group is made up of experienced mystery writers.
All three groups were perfect for the level of writing I was doing when I was in
them, each expanded my understanding of writing, each was necessary.
Usually I can accept criticism for what it is. The person offering it is usually
sincere, and hoping to help me be a better writer, as am I in critiquing their
work.
But once…
I had submitted the first chapters of the novel I was working on to a contest. I
would get back two critiques and if the work was good enough I would get a third and be in the running to win. I wasn’t expecting to win, but I was expecting to be moved to the next level. After all I had ten stories in print. I was shocked by the comments “telling not showing,” “beginning writer,” “stick with it, dear, you will get better.”
I don’t blame the critiquers for this, I blame the writing but darned if I could
figure out what to do about it. So I set the novel aside thinking some day when
I had more distance I could look at it with new eyes. I never did.
I didn’t stop writing or submitting but that particular work may as well have been sealed in a chest and tossed into the ocean.
One of the speakers at the conference may have sent me in the right direction. As the protagonist is looking out the window and sees a friend getting his horse
out she never tells the reader what she is feeling.
This may be the right or the wrong answer, but at least I can now go back and look.
The real moral of this story is don’t be afraid to seek criticism of your work. It
will make you a better writer. Even if it hurts.
The Writing Roller-coaster
I am back on another computer, one that doesn’t recognize me.
I spent the weekend at Deadly Ink, a small conference for mystery writers in the Mid-Atlantic.
About a year ago I received some harsh criticism of the first few chapters of the novel I was working on. I put it aside and have not even looked at it since then. I like getting feedback on my work, but this seemed off and I couldn’t figure out why. It said I was telling not showing and that I was a beginning writer. Maybe it was the beginning writer comment that got me.
The same week I received that feedback on my story, I received second place in a national writers’ contest for another work.
I met the award bestowers at Deadly Ink and was happy to tell them how much it meant to me, and why.
The writing life is such a roller-coaster.
I spent the weekend at Deadly Ink, a small conference for mystery writers in the Mid-Atlantic.
About a year ago I received some harsh criticism of the first few chapters of the novel I was working on. I put it aside and have not even looked at it since then. I like getting feedback on my work, but this seemed off and I couldn’t figure out why. It said I was telling not showing and that I was a beginning writer. Maybe it was the beginning writer comment that got me.
The same week I received that feedback on my story, I received second place in a national writers’ contest for another work.
I met the award bestowers at Deadly Ink and was happy to tell them how much it meant to me, and why.
The writing life is such a roller-coaster.
July 28, 2014
Goals
I have always written for the joy of the process. I love my characters and settings so no one else needs to. I never consciously set goals for myself. Even sending out stories and waiting for the rejection was no real goal.
When I began writing seriously I wanted to have a couple of stories published. I attended local writers groups where women, rightly so, considered themselves to be authors because they had one poem or story published and had done nothing since. Some were still writing but others rested on their laurels. I was delighted that they were satisfied with that achievement, but I wanted more.
The first thing I wrote was a novel. Being my first try, it had serious maybe even fatal flaws, but I loved it. I gave a halfhearted attempt to sell it, but no one bit. It took me a couple of years to realize the problems couldn’t be fixed and that the first few novels were for practice anyway.
I knew one story or poem wouldn’t do it for me. But novels didn’t seem to be it either. I started cranking out short stories.
Now I find myself on the other side of the issue. Many of my new friends have three book contracts with noted publishers of cozy mysteries. Again, I am pleased for them. I remember the excitement they shared when that contract came through but I also remember how hard they had to work to meet deadlines, struggle with characters suggested by the publisher, and meet other demands (the ubiquitous cozy cat). I read the books with joy. I don’t mind writing to a deadline but I don’t want to have to write to contract. I want to work with those guys I mentioned above, the ones I love so much.
What I actually want is to do is write what I love, and go on doing it forever. But yes, I find I do set goals for myself, though often I am surprised that I have. Right now I want to get my short story collection published and get a story or two published in the better known markets.
The other side of any goal is motivation. You can’t achieve any goal unless you are motivated to do so. I am motivated to write, no question there. I am not so motivated to submit, and I am not at all motivated to sell my work once it is out there. I have to work hard at telling people I have a wonderful piece that they might enjoy. But that is the work no one does for you. So far most of my work has been in anthologies so I have had to do my fair share of publicity, but not the whole load. If (when) my collection is published, I am going to have to push it hard.
We are all real writers, the people who are satisfied with a single publication, those who feel they have made it with a three book contract, and those of us who write for the sheer joy of it, and don’t care how far it carries them. Goals may be important but writers are defined not by the goals they set but how they see themselves.
I’d love to hear from other writers about their goals and motivations.
If you aren’t a writer, I’d like to hear what you think of all this.
When I began writing seriously I wanted to have a couple of stories published. I attended local writers groups where women, rightly so, considered themselves to be authors because they had one poem or story published and had done nothing since. Some were still writing but others rested on their laurels. I was delighted that they were satisfied with that achievement, but I wanted more.
The first thing I wrote was a novel. Being my first try, it had serious maybe even fatal flaws, but I loved it. I gave a halfhearted attempt to sell it, but no one bit. It took me a couple of years to realize the problems couldn’t be fixed and that the first few novels were for practice anyway.
I knew one story or poem wouldn’t do it for me. But novels didn’t seem to be it either. I started cranking out short stories.
Now I find myself on the other side of the issue. Many of my new friends have three book contracts with noted publishers of cozy mysteries. Again, I am pleased for them. I remember the excitement they shared when that contract came through but I also remember how hard they had to work to meet deadlines, struggle with characters suggested by the publisher, and meet other demands (the ubiquitous cozy cat). I read the books with joy. I don’t mind writing to a deadline but I don’t want to have to write to contract. I want to work with those guys I mentioned above, the ones I love so much.
What I actually want is to do is write what I love, and go on doing it forever. But yes, I find I do set goals for myself, though often I am surprised that I have. Right now I want to get my short story collection published and get a story or two published in the better known markets.
The other side of any goal is motivation. You can’t achieve any goal unless you are motivated to do so. I am motivated to write, no question there. I am not so motivated to submit, and I am not at all motivated to sell my work once it is out there. I have to work hard at telling people I have a wonderful piece that they might enjoy. But that is the work no one does for you. So far most of my work has been in anthologies so I have had to do my fair share of publicity, but not the whole load. If (when) my collection is published, I am going to have to push it hard.
We are all real writers, the people who are satisfied with a single publication, those who feel they have made it with a three book contract, and those of us who write for the sheer joy of it, and don’t care how far it carries them. Goals may be important but writers are defined not by the goals they set but how they see themselves.
I’d love to hear from other writers about their goals and motivations.
If you aren’t a writer, I’d like to hear what you think of all this.
July 22, 2014
Preparation, Beginning
It was dark when she awoke. It always was, even at the summer solstice. There was no hurry. She could lie her as long as she wanted. She couldn’t read the numbers on the clock unless she put on her glasses.
Why did she wake so early if she was so tired? Another hour of sleep wouldn't hurt anything.
She knew sleep was impossible so she began the morning litany. Today is Monday. Today I have to walk the dog, feed the sheep, go to work. Tonight is monthly writers' group.
Was today going to be the kind of day that filled her cup or the kind that left her drained? The only way to answer that question was to get up and get moving. She would find out how she felt, not by lying in bed, but by getting up and walking the dog. Once she got moving, she would be able to judge her well-being.
Though she hadn't moved, the dog knew she was awake. It stood, turned once around and settled down again snuggled into the small of her back. Clearly the dog was in no hurry to get up. Often enough the dog would be urging her out of bed, eager for her walk and breakfast.
It could be any time between 3 and 5 AM. She felt for her glasses on the night table. 4:28. Not bad.
She began to pick apart the knottier bits of her day. What should she wear to work? Monday she was the receptionist but today she had to teach. She could wear museum uniform in the morning, switch to period clothing for the teaching. Should she take a third set of cloths for the evening meeting? Should she admit, even to herself, that she wanted to wear her period clothing to the group? Would that make her a show off?
Perhaps if she walked the dog for longer than half an hour she would feel more energized. Had she made coffee before she went to bed? Would she have time to write before she left to feed the sheep? Should she pick up lunch on the way to work or should she find something in the cupboard?
She couldn't tell what the weather was. She thought it might be overcast, but then again that might be a star visible through the upper windowpane.
Well best get on with it.
She sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
Preparation and Beginning are the first two moves in the Tai Chi form.
I am not sure if this is a short story, journal entry, or a blog.
I will tell you that after a longish walk with the dog, I felt like I could conquer the day.
July 14, 2014
Dead or Just Resting?
I am pretty good at meeting deadlines. Sometimes things slip, for good reasons or for pure laziness. Not often. So why no blog last week when I am making a bold effort to put something up every Monday?
On Sunday afternoon when I was getting ready to print a piece I needed for Monday evening, my beloved computer put up a blue screen that said “DO SOMETHING!” Before I could, it turned up its toes, eating the piece that I needed for the next day. Three cheers for the fact that I learned early in my career as a writer to back things up. I lost three chapters of a novel by using two not quite compatible computers. I could move the disk from one to the other about five times before it crashed and I had to toss the disk. Then there was the time it crashed at four rotations and neither computer had a copy of the full work. I lost three chapters. They were easy enough to rewrite, but I didn’t want to spend my time rewriting.
Everything on my current computer was backed up except for a few paragraphs.
I took it to the local computer guru and said “It’s dead.” He said, “No it’s just resting,” and fixed it in about five minutes. I was without a computer for less than a week, but now I am behind in everything.
And I missed my Monday blog deadlines.
On Sunday afternoon when I was getting ready to print a piece I needed for Monday evening, my beloved computer put up a blue screen that said “DO SOMETHING!” Before I could, it turned up its toes, eating the piece that I needed for the next day. Three cheers for the fact that I learned early in my career as a writer to back things up. I lost three chapters of a novel by using two not quite compatible computers. I could move the disk from one to the other about five times before it crashed and I had to toss the disk. Then there was the time it crashed at four rotations and neither computer had a copy of the full work. I lost three chapters. They were easy enough to rewrite, but I didn’t want to spend my time rewriting.
Everything on my current computer was backed up except for a few paragraphs.
I took it to the local computer guru and said “It’s dead.” He said, “No it’s just resting,” and fixed it in about five minutes. I was without a computer for less than a week, but now I am behind in everything.
And I missed my Monday blog deadlines.
June 30, 2014
How to Feel Rich
I have spent the weekend reading a manuscript for a friend and fellow writer. I'm pretty good at research, have access to libraries of information, and a point of view that is different enough to find the errors. This time I relied heavily on my Sears Roebuck catalog from 1897, nine years later than the manuscript but close enough. A pair of shoes (we would call them boots) cost a dollar or two. A pair of evening slippers (shoes) slightly less. I could get the saddle I paid $400 for in the 1980s for between $4 and $5.
If you have ever wanted to know what it feels like to be rich, pick up an old catalog. There is not a single thing in the book I could not afford on my current rather modest income.
Oh, did I mention that my monthly income is twice the yearly income of a college professor in the 1890s?
If you have ever wanted to know what it feels like to be rich, pick up an old catalog. There is not a single thing in the book I could not afford on my current rather modest income.
Oh, did I mention that my monthly income is twice the yearly income of a college professor in the 1890s?
June 23, 2014
Exciting Weekend
It has been quite a week. Most exciting is that my new web site and blog went public today.
Try http://kbinglee.weebly.com
I have kept this blog on Goodreads to 250is words, but the one on Webley will be longer. I am still working out the bugs, but it seems pretty easy to use.
I spent Saturday at a local book fair and made some contacts that I should have made years ago.
One of the authors who went to the fair with me was inspired to write a beautiful piece for a contest and I got to be her beta reader. I hope she gets a slot in the anthology. Wish her luck.
Try http://kbinglee.weebly.com
I have kept this blog on Goodreads to 250is words, but the one on Webley will be longer. I am still working out the bugs, but it seems pretty easy to use.
I spent Saturday at a local book fair and made some contacts that I should have made years ago.
One of the authors who went to the fair with me was inspired to write a beautiful piece for a contest and I got to be her beta reader. I hope she gets a slot in the anthology. Wish her luck.
June 16, 2014
My new web site
After years of struggle I finally have a new web site. I had one years ago put together by a family member who was trying to learn how to do it. When I had to take it over I couldn’t seem to make it work, so I stopped paying for hosting and it shut down.
Since then two things have happened. I became a better writer, had some stories published, and won an award or two. At the same time web sites got easier to handle.
Someone at work set it up for me (Yea, Kelsey!) and finally got enough time to take it over myself. I am very pleased with it but have one or two more things to do before I go public.
I will continue blogging every Monday, maybe a bit here and then a longer one with pictures there. Watch this spot next week for the address, then come and visit.
Since then two things have happened. I became a better writer, had some stories published, and won an award or two. At the same time web sites got easier to handle.
Someone at work set it up for me (Yea, Kelsey!) and finally got enough time to take it over myself. I am very pleased with it but have one or two more things to do before I go public.
I will continue blogging every Monday, maybe a bit here and then a longer one with pictures there. Watch this spot next week for the address, then come and visit.
June 9, 2014
The no blog blog
I missed blogging here last week.
I spent the day and the two following days with a total of 300 school kids teaching them about cloth manufacture in the colonial period. I actually got to spin about a yard with each group for a total of 21 or so yards in three days. I wouldn’t win a spinning contest either for quantity or quality. I am very much hands on, and I felt bad telling the kids they couldn’t touch the spinning wheel. They did get to touch the cotton and wool roving, the linen and silk cloth, then one boy and one girl from each class got to dress up in colonial clothing and have their photo taken.
I was in the habit of writing every day but since the first of May I have written maybe 500 words of fiction, and one nonfiction piece for a friend’s food blog on my experience of wood fired cooking. I pretty much don’t cook in any style. But there are pictures.
http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com/2...
I spent the day and the two following days with a total of 300 school kids teaching them about cloth manufacture in the colonial period. I actually got to spin about a yard with each group for a total of 21 or so yards in three days. I wouldn’t win a spinning contest either for quantity or quality. I am very much hands on, and I felt bad telling the kids they couldn’t touch the spinning wheel. They did get to touch the cotton and wool roving, the linen and silk cloth, then one boy and one girl from each class got to dress up in colonial clothing and have their photo taken.
I was in the habit of writing every day but since the first of May I have written maybe 500 words of fiction, and one nonfiction piece for a friend’s food blog on my experience of wood fired cooking. I pretty much don’t cook in any style. But there are pictures.
http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com/2...
The Shepherd's Notes
Combining Living History and writing historical mysteries.
- K.B. Inglee's profile
- 22 followers
