Alexandra Bogdanovic's Blog: That's life... - Posts Tagged "blogging"

So now that I've been home for a couple of months, I'm getting serious about doing the research for my second book. Really serious. I mean it.
To that end, I spent a few hours at the New York Public Library yesterday. I went there to find some books about Yugoslav history, and while perusing the shelves in one of the third floor research rooms I hit the mother lode.
In three large tomes, I found valuable information about Yugoslav history spanning hundreds of years. I also found information about politics, government, culture and education.
To date, I've gotten plenty of information about communism, socialism, past and present ethnic conflicts from my family, but I'm hoping to gain some additional insight from the library books.
In coming weeks, I'll continue my legwork at the New York Public Library and elsewhere. I'll also begin synthesizing the information in notes and outlines.
From there, I'll probably turn my attention to character and plot development.
Once that's all done, I'll finally be to start on the first draft of the novel based on my father's life.
So for those of you who may be wondering when my next book will be coming out, I can't honestly say yet.
But to keep myself on track, I'll be providing you with weekly updates in my blog. That way, you'll get some insight into the writing process from start to finish.
I hope you enjoy it. It should be a fun ride!
Until next time, "That's life..."

For some reason I can't set foot in the New York Public Library without thinking about Ghostbusters -- but that's aside from the point.
I was back at my favorite haunt last night, and even though the visit was unplanned, it was productive. In fact, I found and photocopied material from three more books detailing Yugoslav history. It took a couple of hours to find and copy everything I wanted, and as I look at the growing stack of research material on my desk I cringe when I think about how many trees were sacrificed for the cause.
To be honest, I'm starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed by this research project. The subject is dense, and it seems the more I find, the more questions I have and the more confused I get.
So I think it's time to stop gathering material and start sifting through what I've already found. I suppose I'll start making outlines and timelines and take it from there. In any case, the bottom line is, that until I not only understand the history of my father's homeland, but feel confident enough to write about it with some authority, I simply can't begin to think about character or plot development.
What about you? How do you go about doing research for your own books. Do you take a methodical approach or fly be the seat of your pants?
I'm eager to hear what you think.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Since crafting last week's blog reduced me to tears I've decided to turn to a safer topic. So this week's post is devoted to what I know best -- writing.
Specifically, I've been thinking about how much cops and writers have in common. Basically we are all students of human behavior. The only difference is that while the police use their powers of observation to fight crime, authors use ours to craft the plot, characters and all of the other elements that make for good stories.
At the risk of sounding immodest, I've always been pretty observant and a fairly good judge of character (at least until I met my ex-husband.) But truth be told, I learned more about human nature than I ever dreamed possible while working as a journalist covering law enforcement.
I learned how to read people. I learned what drives the good guys and what makes bad guys tick. I learned that good people sometimes do bad things, that the strongest people sometimes have the greatest weaknesses, and that predators don't thrive without prey.
Covering my share of murder and mayhem also provided me with plenty of fodder for true crime stories and enough inspiration for at least a dozen novels. In fact, I've probably documented more courtroom drama than most people will see in 10,000 episodes of Law and Order.
But yesterday, I found another source of inspiration as I watched a seemingly far less sinister scene unfold right outside my door.
A hooded man was extricating his van from a snow and ice-packed parking space on a snow emergency route. As he did, heaping shovelfuls of debris landed in the road, creating hazardous conditions and causing traffic to veer into the wrong lane.
There's never a cop around when you need one, I thought as I considered dialing my local police department's non-emergency number to report the activity. Oh, screw it. They've got better things to do. I'll just put this guy in a book some day... or at least I'll put him in my blog.
Until next time, "That's life..."

For some authors, blogging is a marketing tool. For others, it's a writing exercise. For me, it began as both, and as such often felt like a bit of a chore. But now it's just plain fun.
It is in that spirit that I am penning this, my 40th blog, and as always, I'm thrilled to have you along for the ride.
First and foremost, I'd like to extend my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you for taking the time to read my weekly posts. With so many authors and bloggers vying for readers' attention, I am honored that you have chosen to join me on what's been an incredible journey.
Looking back, it's clear to see the steep learning curve I went through as I tried to find my "voice" or craft my identity as a blogger. From my first, introductory post in May to my initial posts about writing and related issues, I endeavored to find the style and topics that would resonate with readers.
And in hindsight, it's easy to spot the posts which have done just that. Reflections on the loss of a pet; a birthday celebration; advice on how to handle mainstream media interviews...
In the end, whether it's in print or in person, I'll always be the same snarffy, sarcastic, irreverent, outspoken, brash, sensitive, compassionate woman you've come to know... and possibly even love.
Until next time, "That's life..."

To paraphrase a famous comedian, this was the kind of day that makes you say hmmm...
First, I finally finished reading London Bridges by James Patterson. It was typical Patterson fare pitting the good guy -- FBI Agent Alex Cross -- against a particularly vicious villain called the Wolf. In this particular story, the Wolf and his crew are causing worldwide mayhem by blowing things up.
I know, I know. What's so strange about that? Well, give me a second and I'll put it in context for you so it makes sense. I just happened to finish reading the damned book the day after a lethal explosion leveled an apartment building (or two) in New York City. Without giving too much away, the Big Apple was one of the cities the Wolf targeted in Patterson's book.
To top things off, I decided that the perfect way to decompress after handling a month's worth of home renovations on my own was to go and see Non-Stop, the (relatively) new Liam Neeson action flick. I'm sure by now most of you have seen the trailer, even if you haven't seen the movie. I won't include any spoilers in case anyone still wants to see it. Let's just say there's some drama on a trans-Atlantic flight.
In my humble opinion, the movie was formulaic but entertaining. Even so, I couldn't really concentrate on the action unfolding on the screen. I was too busy thinking about the real life mystery and drama surrounding the Malaysian airliner that recently vanished into thin air.
When you think about it, there are times when truth definitely is stranger than fiction.
Until next time, "That's life..."

It happened on an ordinary weekday not too long ago.
A couple of professional painters and their boss created considerable havoc, not to mention undue stress in my life by announcing I had to move some stuff so they could finish what they'd started.
Being a generally helpful and cooperative person, I spent the better part of that evening moving the "stuff," which, in all honesty turned out to be a bunch of books. Lots of books.
By the time I was finished, stacks of books littered the living room and bedroom floors. There were stacks of hardcover books, stacks of paperback books, stacks of old books and stacks of new books. Fiction, non-fiction, you name it, we've got it, and I moved it.
Looking at the maze I'd created I felt so fed up with the whole entire situation that I sent an email to my mother, who was vacationing in Australia. In that email, I said something I still regret.
We have way too many books, I said. Getting rid of a good 60 percent of them has to be a priority when you get back.
Think about it. It's the 21st century. We have modern technology. We can actually buy and read books on our tablets -- over and over again. Sure, storing them takes up some coveted memory in our precious devices. But the rest of our lives can remain blissfully uncluttered...
Then again, there's nothing like the curling up with a good book, especially on a cold winter's day or a hot summer afternoon, for that matter. Let's face it, beach blanket reading just isn't the same on a tablet or e-reader. And as Mom pointed out, books and bookshelves make a great statement when it comes to home decor. Especially in an old house.
So I guess the bottom line is that you really can't have enough books.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Here's a thought. If you've ever read a book, written a book or even thought about writing one, chances are you've got a literary hero.
For readers it's probably a character. But for authors, the odds are even better that it's a fellow wordsmith. For some, perhaps, it's a master of the craft. Or maybe it's an obscure writer whose name -- known only to a select few -- evokes the image of a starving artist driven solely by their passion.
For me it is Snoopy. Yes, that Snoopy -- the loveable beagle of Peanuts fame created by Charles Schulz.
For the record, I loved him long before it ever dawned on me to use a pen or pencil for anything other than doodling or homework -- and long before I could type, for that matter. I mean, what child wouldn't fall in love with a dog who could play baseball, fly an airplane, hold his own with a BFF as hip as Woodstock, and write the great American novel -- or at least try to write it?
To this day, the fact that he didn't quite manage to become a best-selling author hasn't diminished my respect for the pup. If anything, Snoopy's dogged determination in the face of so much rejection heightened it. But in all honesty, he didn't officially become my literary hero until a few years ago, when I received a book called "Snoopy's Guide to the Writing Life."
Edited by Barnaby Conrad and Monte Schulz, the hard-cover book features commentary, essays, anecdotes and Peanuts comic strips. Collectively, they show just how Snoopy dealt with criticism, rejection and writers block. In the book, some fairly decent authors including Ray Bradbury, William F. Buckley Jr., Clive Cussler and Sidney Sheldon, offer advice to help Snoopy hone his craft.
But to me, the best part of the whole book is the front cover. On it are frames from an old Peanuts comic strip in which the brilliant beagle struggles to create one of the best sentences ever written. Painstakingly, word by word, we see it evolve... "It was a dark and stormy night."
Pure genius.
And until next time, "That's Life..."

While engrossed in the ongoing process of streamlining, downsizing and simplifying my life, I unearthed another interesting treasure this week.
It emerged from a pile of miscellaneous papers stacked on a bookshelf in the basement. In this case, "it" was actually two pieces of paper and a business size envelope bearing a Stamford, Connecticut postmark. Dated May 13, 1998, the envelope was addressed to the newspaper where I worked at the time. There was no return address.
The accompanying papers turned out to be even more interesting. One was a photocopy of a "Page Six" story from the New York Post dated Thursday, May 7, 1998. It detailed an alleged incident at a charity event hosted by an old friend of mine.
Apparently a fracas occurred when someone at the party told a New York investment banker that smoking a cigar in a barn is not a bright idea. According to the Page Six account, things got even more heated when the banker refused to extinguish his cigar...
But the other piece of paper shed an entirely different light on the same incident. Written in a way that suggested the author witnessed the event, the second account indicated the banker was alleged aggressor -- hurling insults at the event organizer who asked him to extinguish the cigar -- and trading punches with her husband.
To the horror of the anonymous author, the banker allegedly screamed the unthinkable as he was escorted out of the event in front of more than 100 people.
"The unbelievable part of the story is that he was being hauled out, he shouts in front of everyone 'Do you know who I am? I am a Goldman Sachs Partner. Do you hear me? I am a Goldman Sachs Partner. And I am best friends with Paul Tudor Jones. You can't do this to me.'"
Collectively, the papers provide an interesting social commentary on a different time. They provide insight into what was considered "newsworthy" and what was deemed "important" before 9/11 and the Great Recession.
The papers also provide some insight into a certain mindset, speaking volumes about self-importance and entitlement. I mean, I can't think of anyone who would throw their weight around and brag about being an investment banker today. Can you?
Until next time, "That's life..."

It's official. I'm a statistic.
A newspaper career that spanned more than two decades ended on a sour note 11 months ago. The reasons for my dismissal are best not publicly disclosed -- so let's just chalk it up to an unresolved personality conflict.
I wish I could say I quickly landed an even more satisfying and lucrative full-time job, however that is not the case. But then again, just because I've technically been out of work doesn't mean I haven't been working hard. If anything, I've acquired some valuable skills.
I've learned the ins and outs of social media,and how to walk the fine line between book marketing and self-exploitation. In the process, I learned plenty about advertising, branding, publicity and public relations. I also polished my interview skills in print and broadcast media appearances.
Then there are all of the other skills I've honed and positions I've held since last June:
1) Landscape architecture (mowing the lawn).
2) Snow and ice removal (self-explanatory).
3)Micro-and-macro-engineering (putting furniture together).
4) Micro-deconstruction and demolition (taking furniture apart).
5) Macro-deconstruction demolition (taking large furniture apart).
6)Expert in coordinating and supervising home renovations.
7)Expert in decluttering bedrooms, attics, and basements.
8)Waste removal (I'll leave that to your very vivid imaginations).
The list goes on... and on. And today, as I helped carry seven large floor boards and other debris down two flights of stairs, it dawned on me that I could probably make millions by recording the activity and starting a new fitness craze...
But all joking aside, I would like to go back to work... for real. So if you know of any openings, feel free to drop me a note.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Sorry I've gotten off to such a late start this week. I've been busy licking my wounds.
You see, my ego has been battered and my pride is a bit bruised. Simply stated, I am a sore loser.
After giving it some serious thought, I entered several book contests this year. And much to my delight, judges selected "Truth" as the winner in the Gay Literature category in the first contest I entered. It was selected as runner-up in the Biography/Autobiography category in the second contest I entered.
So yesterday, I could hardly wait to see if I'd placed in an even bigger contest. Organizers had informed the authors that they planned to announce the results on the "down low" before making the official announcement next week. Undaunted by previous emails detailing the number of entries and fierce competition, I was convinced I would win something. Maybe not a gold medal or even a silver. But I was convinced I had a realistic shot at a bronze medal. No, make that a good shot. A very good shot.
After all, I read the judging criteria and I just knew "Truth" met them all. There was no doubt in my mind that my book is timely and well-written. What else could those judges possibly expect?
Confident, I started checking my email at 9 a.m. There were lots of messages, but not the one I was expecting. So I checked again an hour later. Still no luck. By noon, I was checking my email at least two or three times per hour with the same results. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
By the end of the day I was fed up with the whole process. But just when I was about to give up altogether, the email finally arrived. I felt my pulse thumping in my neck as I opened it and clicked on the link to the result page. Eagerly, I scanned the list, trying to remember just which category I entered. It didn't matter, though. I didn't see my name - and as much as I wished it would magically appear, nothing changed when I re-read the page.
Maybe I entered the wrong category. Maybe the judges just didn't like the book. Maybe the competition was just too good.
I did my best, and this time it just wasn't good enough. But in the end, that's OK. Even I can't win them all.
Until next time, "That's life..."