by Lynne | Nov 23, 2014 | Uncategorized
I found this article particularly interesting with the holidays coming and my latest book, Pure Lies, a mystery about the Salem Witch Trials, just released. Sexual obsession is not a concept usually associated with Puritans, but this sheds light on a grim and repressed period of time in American history.
“America’s Thanksgiving holiday goes back at least 388 years to the year following the arrival of the Pilgrims in Massachusetts in 1620. The Pilgrims were among a number of sects called Puritans, and like many Puritan sects, the Pilgrims came to America essentially because they thought 17th Century England much too bawdy.(1) That England of the time was bawdy — a raucous bawdiness in full bloom — there’s no doubt. But the idea that the Puritans (and Pilgrims) suffered from religious persecution in England is probably a myth. What they suffered from was unease (and maybe too much temptation) at the general licentiousness of English life.
So various Puritan colonies were established in America, colonies with dictatorial repression of daily life, mostly of sexual behavior. It’s an American cultural heritage that few Americans ever talk about, except maybe when they read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, a novel about the miseries of an adulterous couple in a Puritan community. Our custom is for three or four generations of family to sit down at a Thanksgiving dinner with hardly a memory that what the Pilgrims and other Puritans were all about was sexual obsession.
A set of ideas about human sexual behavior so strong that the ideas result in strict rules that govern a community by threat of physical punishment easily morphs from philosophy into obsession — and that’s exactly what happened once the Puritans came into control of laws in their colonies in the New World.
The background of the Puritan obsession with sex is a fascinating thread in the history of Western culture. The obsession apparently originated in a close literal reading of the Bible, a fervent belief that the main causes of the suffering of all mankind were 1) the disobedience of Adam and Eve in seeking knowledge of sex, 2) the shame of their nakedness, and 3) their sexual desire for each other. Taking these causes as axioms for social doctrine about sexual behavior led the literalists (fundamentalists) easily into social tyranny. The sexual act itself became the “original sin” — an irony, since the sexual act was the only means available to produce progeny to replace those who died.
The old New England children’s rhyme tells it all: ‘In Adam’s fall, we sinned all.’
These ideas certainly predated the Puritans, since hatred of women as sexual saboteurs, revulsion at the sex act, and derision of marriage are on nearly every page of the writings of St. Paul and St. Augustine. The great Protestant reformers Luther, Calvin and Knox did little to change these attitudes about sexual behavior, and more or less enforced them. The classical Christian view was that any act of sexual love, in or out of marriage, was a betrayal of God. By the time the Puritans arrived, the classical view had been modified: sexuality in marriage was acceptable, but sexuality of any kind outside marriage was a sin and a crime, punishable with fines, whipping, branding, banishment, and even death.
And the origins? The fervor against sexuality evidently originated in ancient Hebrew law, the ancient fear that man was weakened by sexual intercourse, ancient references to the sex act as the “little death” and a form of castration. In their morning prayers, Orthodox Jews still proclaim, ‘I thank Thee, Lord, for not having created me a woman.’
Sexuality was inherently evil, the sex act an abomination and a sin, women morally inferior and sources of temptation. If the sex act was needed to produce a new generation, let it be accomplished without lust. So much for the mechanics of Darwinian sexual selection. From a biological standpoint, it’s a wonder the Western world did not go extinct before the Renaissance. But it’s no wonder at all that countless women (and many men) were driven into madness by the incompatibility between the social tyranny of their Judeo-Christian cultural heritage and their evolved biology.
At the Thanksgiving table we think of turkey, children, and grandparents. Let it be so. We need the comforts, especially in our current time. But we should also be thankful that we’ve come out of the darkness of the past, the darkness of ignorance and social tyranny. That too is something that needs the giving of thanks.
Note (1). Whatever persecution the Pilgrims suffered in Europe was political rather than religious. The Pilgrims were Puritan separatists. The sect of Puritans who came to be known as Pilgrims wanted complete separation from the Anglican Church. Other Puritan sects did not demand separation. It was the vocal opposition of Pilgrim leaders to the Anglican Church and the King of England that caused their problems with government. The Pilgrims left England for Holland, were unhappy in Holland, and eventually achieved financing by English investors and migrated to America.”
Written by Dan Agin and posted 3/18/201, updated 11/17/2011. Reprinted from the Huffington Post.
by Lynne | Nov 16, 2014 | Uncategorized
For me, outlining is extremely important. Mainly because a large part of the action in my mysteries take place in the past and have so darn many details, I can’t rely on my pea-brain to remember it all. I begin with my “jump-start” outline. Now, what the heck is that, you ask. I made up the term so I can’t refer you to any book or manual. Since there are two separate story lines in my books – past and present – I actually have two “jump-start” outlines. But since both are very similar I combined them for today’s blog.
Modern (and Past) Story Line
a. Broad overview of story, ie: Digital photographer searches for missing Van Gogh painting after her best friend is murdered (my last book.) The Past story line will be a bit different since this is where the story begins.
Expand this to a paragraph if you like, but no more for now.
b. Characters: Snapshots of main characters, both protagonists and antagonists, to include physical description (so you can visualize them,) their likes, dislikes, what’s important to them . . . or not, education, occupation, you know, general stuff. Add in personality traits: stingy, obsessive, lazy, kooky. Use bullet points. They’ll grow organically as you write.
c. Setting: Where does most of the plot take place? In my last book, Washington, D.C. and Paris, France. Ooh la la. Get it right – go visit, don’t just look at pictures.
d. Major conflicts, ie: Is the main character getting divorced, in love with a loser, always fighting with her boss, her mother, her sister? Are her relationships getting in the way of her job success? These may only come up occasionally and in usually in sub-plots.
e. Ending: You may not always know this at the beginning, but at some point — early on –you do need to know what the ending will be. As a caveat, I will say that I had the ending for one of my books and my editor suggested a completely different one. I loved his idea, changed it and in doing so, ruined my follow-up book. (You’ll have to read it and see. Ha!)
With my “jump-start” outline I write a quick and dirty first draft. At this point, I have a better idea of what works and what doesn’t as far as plot, characters, etc. Now, I get into serious outlining. More detail on all the above, and even a chapter by chapter outline. What will happen next, next, next.
I better define the characters in terms of personality and interactions with each other. I refine their conflicts. I add details to the settings.
Then I start again. Read the new draft out loud, cringe and re-write. Test the chapters out in my critique group, cringe and re-write. I don’t usually re-outline unless the book isn’t working as a whole.
Hopefully, that first “jump-start” is all I need. Ideas welcome.
by Lynne | Nov 3, 2014 | Uncategorized
Pure Lies Premiering Soon
It’s now high time that ev’ry Crime be brought to punishment: Wrath long contain’d, and oft restrain’d, at last must have a vent: Justice severe cannot forbear to plague sin any longer, But must inflict with handmost strict mischief upon the wronger.
The Day of Doom, Stanza 139, Michael Wigglesworth, 1662
Pure Lies opens with this quote from The Day of Doom, a grim, religious tome written in the mid seventeenth century. It is a fitting opening to my novel about the Salem witch trials and to a time of primitive superstition, fanatical religion, a radical Calvinist philosophy of pre-destination, and a lifestyle that was harsh and mirthless.
My research into this time period gave me new insight into the early days of our country and the Puritan way of life. Unless you were wealthy, your days were spent working from dawn to dusk in the fields, or the kitchen, or the barns, to earn a livelihood, or to simply survive.
In addition, Puritans had to contend with unmerciful winters, living in crowded little homes with no heat except a fireplace; hot, humid and buggy summers (with no A/C); being plagued by Indian raids — always a serious threat; and facing the difficulties of raising and growing their own food to sustain their families. Bleak.
Young men and women had it particularly rough because school and learning was a luxury and often done at home or not at all. They had the drudgery of chores to keep them out of mischief, but socializing was confined to church and church activities. Dancing, singing, music in general was frowned upon. The books they were allowed to read were limited to religious works like “The Day of Doom,” and the Bible.
In some ways, it’s easy to see how the young girls of Salem would conjure up a diversion to give their life . . . life. To alleviate their boredom, although boredom was not in fact a word at the time. “Taedium vitae — the weariness or loathing of life” would be more exact.
In “Pure Lies” we see how a group of so-called “afflicted” girls send the townsfolk of Salem into a mad spiral of fear, superstition, and vengeance. Nine people would pay with their lives, innocent victims alleged to be possessed by Satan. How did this come to pass? Why did the deacons and magistrates of the Court of Oyer and Terminer (to hear and determine) believe the accusers rather than the accused? Were the girls so skilled in the art of dissembling? In any event, if the judges believed that the devil was, indeed, visited upon Salem, it was their sacred obligation to save the God-fearing citizens from his sorcery.
As always in my books, I take the truth about real historic events and add a “conspiracy” or “alternative history” element. Could it have happened that way? In Pure Lies I would have to say yes, it could have happened that way. In earlier books, most likely no. You can decide for yourself.
Please forgive this blatant self-promotion but I’m excited about Pure Lies going live soon. I hope you enjoy it and I welcome feedback.
by Lynne | Oct 27, 2014 | Uncategorized
How to Make Your Book Rise Above Others
I often get blog ideas as I read for enjoyment. It doesn’t matter whether I’m reading non-fiction or fiction, good writing is good writing. So what is good writing? When you can’t wait to turn the page; when you stay up half the night to finish; when you recommend it to your friends; when you give it a five-star review? All of those. Or when you read a sentence several times because it is so beautiful, so aptly said, so visual. Ahh.
Reading the latest book by Julia Keller, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author who has three mysteries out, I said “Ahh,” often. Many times it turned out to be a simile she used so sweetly. For example: “. . . the crowd sank back down like a half-baked soufflé, rising and now cratering.” Or: “. . . letting the story unfurl bit by delicious bit like a wide red ribbon coaxed slowly and dramatically off its spool.” Lovely use of language, and particularly artful use of similes.
As writers we all use similes, metaphors and analogies, but how well do use them? Haven’t you written, “blind as a bat,” “cold as ice,” or “light as a feather?” Bleh. Oh please, you can come up with better similes.
Now metaphors. They don’t use “like” or “as” or “than.” They get right to the point. “My mom is a witch in the mornings.” “Is a witch” as opposed to “Like a witch.” Gives you a different feeling, even though you know my mom is not really a witch, right?
An analogy is a bit more complex. It’s kind of like a simile, but stretched further. Sometimes a simile doesn’t make a lot of sense without more explanation, or could be misinterpreted. This is a fun example from the movie, “Shrek.”
Shrek: Ogres are like onions.
Donkey: They stink?
Shrek: Yes. No!
Donkey: They make you cry?
Shrek: No!
Donkey: You leave them out in the sun, they get all brown, start sprouting little white hairs?
Shrek: No! Layers. Onions have layers!
Since Shrek’s meaning wasn’t obvious to Donkey, he had to explain. Thus, an analogy. Analogies can but don’t need the words “like, than, as.”
Remember the old Miller Analogies Test? Mama Mia! I had to take it as part of my Masters’ Degree. Here are some questions. Fill in the blanks.
- ( ): Puccini :: Sculpture: Opera
- Cellini b. Rembrandt c. Wagner d. Petrarch
- ( ): Speech :: Coordinated : Movement
- predictive b. rapid c. prophetic d. articulate
- Scintillating : Dullness :: ( ) : Calm
- erudite b. boisterous c. cautious d. exalted
Good luck and don’t you dare ask me the answers.
The bottom line (ach, a cliché!) is that artful language can make your writing memorable.
by Lynne | Oct 21, 2014 | Uncategorized
“Picture” the Scenes
Years ago I saw a terrific IMAX film called To The Limit. In it was a scene I never forgot. A champion downhill skier was sitting on top of a mountain, skis and poles by her side. Her eyes were closed and she was moving her arms and upper body as if she were skiing downhill. She was picturing the course with its turns and moguls as she traveled down the mountain in her mind. She was teaching her brain to prepare for those bumps and 
curves by visualizing the course over and over. Something similar to muscle memory ie: when you play an instrument and your fingers seem to move on their own, almost apart from your brain.
This visualization technique is crucial in writing. Close your eyes. Picture the scene you’re about to compose. Perhaps it’s a cop getting ready to interview a suspect. From Val McDermid’s The Torment of Others, visualize Detective Chief Inspector Carol Jordan:
“Carol stared through the two-way mirror at the man in the interview room. Ronald Edmund Alexander looked nothing like the popular image of a pedophile. He wasn’t shifty or sweaty. He wasn’t dirty or sleazy. He looked exactly like a middle manager who lived in the suburbs with a wife and two children. There was no dirty raincoat, just an off-the-peg suit, an unassuming charcoal grey. Pale blue shirt, burgundy tie with a thin grey stripe. Neat haircut, no vain attempt to hide the way he was thinning on top.”
Picture the room and a man seated there through the glass. Visualize the suspect, very possibly a child molester, and feel Carol’s frustration at his very ordinariness, the exact antithesis of what she expects a monster to look like. Could she be wrong? Are we being misled by his description?
Follow Harry Bosch in Michael Connelly’s Reversal, when he makes a trip to Fryman Canyon Park, an unexpected natural enclave above the madness of LA.
“Fryman was a rugged, inclined park with steep trails and flat-surface parking and observation area on top and just off Mulholland. Bosch had been there before on cases and was familiar with its expanse. He pulled to a stop with his car pointing north and the view of the San Fernando Valley spread before him. The air was pretty clear and the vista stretched all the way across the valley to the San Gabriel Mountains. The brutal week of storms that had ended January had cleared the skies out and the smog was only now climbing back into the valley’s bowl.”
Harry has been here before and is familiar with the area, its quirky smog patterns and unpredictable weather. Now, so are you.
Visualization is more than “description.” It’s about engaging the senses (see an earlier blog I wrote about this) to get a visceral feel for the scene. Picture a brown leather couch sitting atop a Persian rug in front of a teak coffee table. Now give the couch history – every crack in the leather represents a different house it has lived in or a different person who curled up on its soft hide. It was loved, it was beaten, it was ruined. Even a couch can have personality. What does it say about its owners?
Visualize a woman. She’s not just a blond in a blue dress, wearing high heels and red lipstick. She’s a woman, teetering outside a motel room, black roots showing through the teased mass, blue dress torn at her hem, lipstick smeared like a clown. Picture her. There. . . there she is. You can see her clearly. You know her.
Write your scenes as if they were movies. Let us see what’s happening through your words. You’re the director. Direct.
by Lynne | Oct 12, 2014 | Uncategorized
Characters Are Unique Individuals
As a writer I understand the importance of dialogue. Not only can it liven up a scene, jazz up a narrative, but it can bring the characters to life. Dialogue (or monologue) is an opportunity to give the characters depth, passion, humor, and even history.
Through dialogue you can hear the character’s regional-speak (dialect), educational background, even political and religious persuasion. Voice, however, goes beyond dialogue. In a sense it uses dialogue to present itself to the reader.
I’m reading a book now called “Necessary Lies” by Diane Chamberlain. It takes place in rural North Carolina in the 60s and is written primarily in two women’s POVs, along with a number of other characters that they interact with. Each of these characters has a distinct voice. Even if the author did not label the chapters “Ivy” or “Jane” the reader would know immediately whose voice you were hearing.
Rather than tell you how to write distinguishable voices, I thought I’d use Diane Chamberlain’s actual words to show you.
“Ivy: I headed home down Deaf Mule Road where it ran between two tobacco fields that on forever and ever. I couldn’t look at all them acres and acres of tobacco we still had to get in. My fingers was still sticky with tar from that day’s work. Even my hair felt like it had tar in it, and as I walked down the road, I lifted one blond end of my hair from under my kerchief and checked it, but it just looked like my plain old hair. Dried hay. That’s what Nonnie said about my hair one time. My own grandma, and she didn’t care about hurting my feelings.”
What do we know about Ivy from this excerpt? She works a tobacco field, she’s blond, she’s not well-educated and she’s probably young. She has a grandmother who says hurtful things and most likely has a poor self-image. Now here’s the other POV.
“Jane: I pulled my car to the side of Deaf Mule Road, unable to see to drive. I put my head in my hands. I’d made such a mess of things. I’d wanted to help Ivy see why this could be a good thing for her, but I’d bungled it, just as I had with Mary Ella. How could I not bungle it? It was just wrong. The whole damn thing was wrong! There was no way to be honest with a girl about sterilization without making a mess . . .”
Ahh, Jane is Ivy’s social worker. She, too, is not sure of herself and her decisions. She’s young and new at this job and doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She’s well-educated but a product of her times. She’s got her concerns about the “eugenics” program in place at the time.
Both these women have very different voices. Even when dialogue moves back and forth between them without attributions, you have no doubt who is speaking. Their voices are clear and distinctive. So are their characters.
When you read, watch for “voice.” Can you distinguish one character clearly from another? Do they all sound (and think) alike? Without attributions, how much can you learn about the character simply from dialogue? If the answer is not much, then the voice is weak.
I welcome samples of strong (or weak) voices in your writing. Thanks.
“America’s Thanksgiving holiday goes back at least 388 years to the year following the arrival of the Pilgrims in Massachusetts in 1620. The Pilgrims were among a number of sects called Puritans, and like many Puritan sects, the Pilgrims came to America essentially because they thought 17th Century England much too bawdy.(1) That England of the time was bawdy — a raucous bawdiness in full bloom — there’s no doubt. But the idea that the Puritans (and Pilgrims) suffered from religious persecution in England is probably a myth. What they suffered from was unease (and maybe too much temptation) at the general licentiousness of English life.
