Jane Cleland's Posts - CrimeSpace2024-03-29T08:56:40ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/clelandhttp://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/60988120?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1http://crimespace.ning.com/profiles/blog/feed?user=cleland&xn_auth=noStaging the Scene: The Story Behind the New York Times Storytag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-12-11:537324:BlogPost:1715662008-12-11T02:12:57.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
Each Sunday, The New York Times’ Real Estate section showcases a city residence. The feature is called “Habitat” and the articles don’t merely profile a residence; rather, the stories discuss how the space suits the people who live there. When my husband, Joe Stanko, and I learned that the New York Times was interested in featuring our apartment, one question came to our minds: Where in God’s name would we stash our stuff?<br />
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If you’ve never lived in New York City, you don’t know what I’m talking…
Each Sunday, The New York Times’ Real Estate section showcases a city residence. The feature is called “Habitat” and the articles don’t merely profile a residence; rather, the stories discuss how the space suits the people who live there. When my husband, Joe Stanko, and I learned that the New York Times was interested in featuring our apartment, one question came to our minds: Where in God’s name would we stash our stuff?<br />
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If you’ve never lived in New York City, you don’t know what I’m talking about. Space is always an issue in New York City apartments. When Joe first moved in here, I cleared out a drawer for him. Imagine my dismay when, like Oliver Twist, he asked for more. “More?” I repeated, certain I couldn’t possibly have heard him right. “Did I hear you say you wanted ‘More’?” For the record, over the years he has negotiated like a hard-nosed diplomat and now controls roughly 40 percent of available storage space for his own use.<br />
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When I visit friends who live in the suburbs or in the country, people with “normal-sized” houses, I often stand in their kitchens and stare at their cupboards, experiencing what I call storage envy. This is a real and chronic condition. Joe has storage-envy, too, but manages his condition better than I do. Don’t get me wrong , I love living in Manhattan. Our apartment is beautiful. But there’s so little room to store things, it’s painful. Joe has said that if we bring in anything else, it’s living at the end of the bed. You think I’m joking. I’m not. Recently, Joe and I were at someone’s house for the first time. Nice people. Heck, great people. They have a beautiful home in Connecticut. They showed us around, you know a house tour. (As an aside, have you ever thought about house tours? It’s a pretty strange tradition. And a relatively new one. People two or three generations ago didn’t tour one another’s houses. I’m not sure how the new tradition got started. Curiosity out in the open, perhaps.)<br />
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In any event, their master bathroom wasn’t a bathroom; it was a suite. They called it the “master bathroom suite.” It was comprised of a dressing room—complete with make-up table and Hollywood lights—and a valet room (a man’s version of a dressing room), a toilet room, and I guess what could be called a bathing room, or a cleaning room, maybe. The bathing room had a spa tub as large as most people’s powder rooms and a shower big enough for two with built-in seats and two shower heads. And a vanity with two sinks. Some of you are shaking your heads wondering what cave I’ve been living in. You know that almost all newly constructed houses have nice master bathroom suites. Fair enough. Welcome to Manhattan.<br />
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Manhattan is tiny. If I recall correctly, the island is about 13 miles long and 2 ½ miles wide at its widest point (which by the way, is 14th Street). More than 1.6 million people live here. Space is an issue for almost all of us. While we were in our friend’s master bathroom suite, I turned to Joe and whispered, “In New York, this would be called a one-bedroom and rent for about $1,800 a month.” I wasn’t joking. When I first moved to New York in the mid-1980s, I toured what’s called a “junior two.” A junior two refers to a one-bedroom unit large enough to be reconfigured to add a second bedroom, usually by adding a wall in the living room to create a separate room.<br />
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The alleged 2-bedroom rental that I toured some 20-plus years ago was in the trendy Manhattan neighborhood of Chelsea. It was a newly renovated railroad apartment—a long, skinny unit in a brownstone or tenement that runs from front to back. It had mellow brick walls in the living room, a kitchenette with new, albeit small, appliances, one bathroom, and a view from the main bedroom of the alley. (No one could have called that bedroom a master with a straight face.) The second bedroom was a walk-in closet. Really. Yes, it’s illegal to call a room a bedroom if it doesn’t have a window. They did it anyway. I didn’t rent that unit, but I got a good chuckle out of the experience.<br />
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You know that house in Connecticut that I mentioned... the one with the master bathroom suite... there were three windows in the bathroom suite. Three. And three closets. The dressing room, which some people might call a walk-in closet had a closet. The closet had a closet. I stared it for a long time. (Sigh, sigh, sigh.) Never mind. I was just experiencing a momentary flash of storage envy; it’s passed.<br />
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When I say storage is an issue for Joe and me, I mean it. As an example, our cereal lives under the wing chair. We say things like, it’s too bad we can’t stock up on cereal while it’s on sale, but the wing chair is full. Which brings me to the day Debby Baldwin, the New York Times reporter called and said she was considering doing an article on our apartment. Joe and I looked at one another, dismay evident in both our expressions. How, we wondered, were we going to make the apartment article-worthy and photo-ready? The apartment is gorgeous... the apartment itself wasn’t the issue... it was our stuff. Clearly, we needed to stage the apartment. Luckily I’m an HGTV fan so I know all about staging. De-clutter. Neutralize. De-clutter. Limit the number and kinds of personal items out and about. De-clutter. De-clutter. De-clutter. Check.<br />
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We had two weeks. Joe and I spent several days thinking about what to keep on display and what to spirit away into hiding. And then we gave up. Oh, my God. I spent about a year (okay, a day) cleaning out my office. I threw away two huge trash bags full of papers and materials I no longer expected to need. Joe cleaned out his allotted space. If you’ve never done this, you have no concept how painful the process is. It’s awful. Even after we were done, there was too much stuff. That meant there was only one alternative. We had to fit everything else into the closet.<br />
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Can you believe this closet? What you can’t see is that it goes back three feet or so, and every inch was solidly packed. Note the wicker magazine holder perched at a crazy angle toward the top. When everything was in, Joe and I looked at one another. Then we quickly closed the door.<br />
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The writer and photographer came and did their work. And the next day, we took everything out of the closet and placed it back where it belonged. Out. Visible. In our lives. After all, it is our stuff.<br />
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And that’s the story behind the story.<br />
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To view the photos for this blog go to http://www.janecleland.net/htm/blog/blog.htm<br />
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As always, I welcome your comments.Jane's Favorite Building in New Yorktag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-10-20:537324:BlogPost:1634822008-10-20T18:19:26.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
When I stand on my balcony, I can see the United Nations, the East River, the famous Pepsi sign, and Egypt, Nigeria, and Kuwait's missions to the U.N. But most of the time, that's not where I look. My attention is usually fixed on one of the United Nations Plaza buildings. It's my favorite building in New York.<br />
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<p style="text-align: left;"><img alt="" height="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/70742552?profile=original" width="500"></img></p>
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Look at the top. Doesn't it appear to be paper thin? Isn't that astonishing? How do architects and builders do that? What kind of mind even…
When I stand on my balcony, I can see the United Nations, the East River, the famous Pepsi sign, and Egypt, Nigeria, and Kuwait's missions to the U.N. But most of the time, that's not where I look. My attention is usually fixed on one of the United Nations Plaza buildings. It's my favorite building in New York.<br />
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<p style="text-align: left;"><img src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/70742552?profile=original" alt="" width="500" height="750"/></p>
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Look at the top. Doesn't it appear to be paper thin? Isn't that astonishing? How do architects and builders do that? What kind of mind even conceives such a thing?<br />
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I like looking at all sorts of buildings from grand old courthouses where the size and grandeur of the building lends gravitas to the proceedings going on inside to fieldstone cottages where the muted-toned stones are hand-selected and installed and from limestone buildings with gargoyles peering down from under the eaves to contemporary buildings, the kind with more angles than curves.<br />
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Some people, when they go on vacation, prefer to visit mountains or lakes or the ocean. I like the ocean—as many of you know, my husband and I are pretty serious snorkelers. But one of my favorite thing to do is visit cities. I like to walk the streets and look at buildings. You can tell a lot about a society by its buildings.<br />
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What about you? What kind of architecture do you prefer? This conversation is another variation on an ongoing theme. Some of you will recall that I blogged a year or more ago about perception and preference. Why, I asked, do some people prefer blue? Why do others gravitate toward Queen Anne furniture? I find this question of enduring interest—a mystery of personality and upbringing and an individual's definition of comfort and accomplishment. I write about it in my mysteries.<br />
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What's your favorite building? I'd love to hear about it, what it is and what about it attracts you. I welcome your comments.Jane's Guest of Honor Interview: Cool Questionstag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-07-13:537324:BlogPost:1512872008-07-13T13:30:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-07-03_blog.mp3" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<h2><span class="h3turq">Jane's Guest of Honor Interview: Cool Questions</span></h2>
<p>As the guest of honor at this year's <a href="http://www.deadlyink.com/" target="_blank">Deadly Ink Mystery Conference</a>, I was interviewed by author <a href="http://www.chesol.com" target="_blank">Cheryl Solimini</a>.Here are Cheryl's way cool questions and my answers.</p>
<p><em>1. What…</em></p>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-07-03_blog.mp3" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<h2><span class="h3turq">Jane's Guest of Honor Interview: Cool Questions</span></h2>
<p>As the guest of honor at this year's <a href="http://www.deadlyink.com/" target="_blank">Deadly Ink Mystery Conference</a>, I was interviewed by author <a href="http://www.chesol.com" target="_blank">Cheryl Solimini</a>.Here are Cheryl's way cool questions and my answers.</p>
<p><em>1. What is your favorite word?</em><br/> I have two: haptic and purl. Haptic is a scientific term having to do with tactile sensitivity... but a friend and I have adopted it to mean touchable, as in, "Oh, baby, he's haptic." Purl is a lovely word for a lovely sound—it is the sound a bubbling brook makes.</p>
<p><em>2. What is your least favorite word?</em><br/> No. Don't tell me no. If it requires work, let's roll up our sleeves and make it happen, but I hate hearing no.</p>
<p><em>3. What is your favorite word that sounds like a curse word but isn't?<br/></em> I don't have one... but I do have a word that sounds vulgar and isn't. I lived in Los Angeles for awhile and was shocked to discover a major thoroughfare named Sepulveda Boulevard. Parents, don't let your children play on Sepulveda.</p>
<p><em>4. What sound or noise do you love?<br/></em> Two come to mind. A kitty purring... an intimate sound of approval and affection. You can't make a cat purr, and you can only hear it if you're close by. Also, my husband (who as you may know is a professional musician) practicing bass trombone or tuba. I'm in my little office writing and he's in the other side of the apartment practicing... it's a visceral signal that all is well with my world.</p>
<p><em>5. What sound or noise do you hate?<br/></em> Heavy metal, rap, Musak, and people talking on their cellphones on trains or buses.</p>
<p><em>6. What turns you on when you're writing a mystery novel?<br/></em> Nailing it—writing an unambiguous sentence.</p>
<p><em>7. What turns you off when you're reading a mystery novel?<br/></em> Errors in logic, plot points that seem contrived, and/or uninteresting characters.</p>
<p><em>8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?<br/></em> None comes to mind... I've tried many jobs over many years. I'm very fortunate to have found two careers I like a lot—corporate training and writing.</p>
<p><em>9. What profession would you not like to attempt?<br/></em> The worst job I ever had was feeding data cards—does anyone remember "Do not fold, spindle, or mutilate"?—into a reader. Mind-numbingly boring. Excruciating. I lasted an hour. Cocktail waitressing was pretty bad, too.</p>
<p><em>10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear Rex Stout say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?<br/></em> I loved your last book. I've got some Jack Daniels. Want a drink?<br/></p>
<p><em>11. If you were an antique, which would you be, and why? (How much would you bid for yourself at auction?)<br/></em> I'd be an 18th century, beautifully cared-for, rare book—something of substance like a first edition of Dr. Johnson's dictionary. Why? I'd be valued for what was outside and inside. How much? Priceless. A bidding war would explode.</p>
<p><em>12. And most importantly, which is your favorite dessert?<br/></em> I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but chocolate chip cookies are always welcome.</p>What Kind of Horse Are You?tag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-05-12:537324:BlogPost:1418782008-05-12T00:30:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-05-07_blog.mp3" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<h2>What Kind of Horse Are You?</h2>
<p>I'm not a clothes horse. I select outfits for comfort, not style. In other words, I'm a comfort horse.</p>
<p>When I was twelve, my father told me that he would gladly pay for any and all beauty treatments. He liked his women well-kempt. My mother was more of a comfort-first sort of gal, so this was his way of suggesting that I try a…</p>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-05-07_blog.mp3" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<h2>What Kind of Horse Are You?</h2>
<p>I'm not a clothes horse. I select outfits for comfort, not style. In other words, I'm a comfort horse.</p>
<p>When I was twelve, my father told me that he would gladly pay for any and all beauty treatments. He liked his women well-kempt. My mother was more of a comfort-first sort of gal, so this was his way of suggesting that I try a different approach. From that unspoken—and to be fair, perhaps, unintended—message, I learned an important lesson—comfort horses aren't as valued by men as beauty horses.</p>
<p>Be that as it may, and not to belabor a metaphor, but it didn't take me long to learn that for me at least, it's impossible to change horses midstream. A comfort horse I was, and a comfort horse I am. Sorry, Dad.</p>
<p>One of my nephews tells me he's a restaurant horse. If he has extra cash, he spends it on fine dining. A writer friend of my acquaintance always looks like a million bucks—she's a classic clothes horse. Another friend has been lasered and botoxed and nipped; she's obviously a beauty horse. A guy I know is a water rat—he sails, dives, snorkels, lives on the coast, kayaks for relaxation, you get my drift—obviously, he's a water horse. So... what kind of horse are you?</p>
<p>It's important to know. It says everything about you. It's the public statement about your values and interests and aspirations. If you get extra money, how would you spend it? And how do you feel about that? Are you pleased with the horse you are? Or do you wish you were a different horse?</p>
<p>My dad died long ago, when I was a teenager, but you know what? I think he'd like me just fine, even though I'm not his stated first choice in horses. I think he spoke a big game about admiring well-groomed gals, but in his heart, he liked comfort-horse gals the best. High-maintenance, nah. Relaxed and friendly, hootie mama! That's me! A comfort-horse girl who cooks comfort food and has comfortable chairs and strives to have the people in her life feel welcome and valued, and yes, comfortable.</p>
<p>I have no way of knowing if I'm right, of course... but I certainly hope so. I loved my dad a lot, and I hope that how I am would please him.</p>Gravitas for Cozy Galstag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-04-05:537324:BlogPost:1355072008-04-05T19:30:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-03-26_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>At the recent mystery conference, <a href="http://www.leftcoastcrime.org/" target="_blank">Left Coast Crime</a>, I moderated a panel entitled, “What’s My Niche? Cozies With a Theme.” As the author of the <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/ATDF.htm" target="_blank">Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries</a>, that topic is right up my alley.</p>
<p>My panel was intended…</p>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-03-26_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>At the recent mystery conference, <a href="http://www.leftcoastcrime.org/" target="_blank">Left Coast Crime</a>, I moderated a panel entitled, “What’s My Niche? Cozies With a Theme.” As the author of the <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/ATDF.htm" target="_blank">Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries</a>, that topic is right up my alley.</p>
<p>My panel was intended to include four authors of themed-cozy mysteries, but one fell ill, and one had a day job, business emergency, so I was left with only two authors: <a href="http://www.rosemaryharris.com" target="_blank">Rosemary Harris</a> and <a href="http://www.cricketmcrae.com/live/home/home/" target="_blank">Cricket McRae</a>. Don’t get me wrong—these two are fabulous—they’re terrific writers, engaging speakers, and all around nice gals... but two participants does not a panel make.</p>
<p><a name="more" id="more"></a>Enter Edgar nominee, <a href="http://www.reedcoleman.com/" target="_blank">Reed Farrel Coleman</a>, who writes gritty New York noir sorts of mysteries. I told him about the situation and he jumped in, offering to be a panelist. I eagerly accepted. I know Reed to have keen insight into the overall world of mysteries—he was the former executive vice president (EVP)—read chief operating officer—of the Mystery Writers of America, and a couple of years ago, before be became EVP and before I became the president of <a href="http://www.mwa-ny.org/" target="_blank">Mystery Writers of America/New York Chapter (MWA/NY)</a>, I’d worked with him for several months—we were both on the MWA/NY board of directors.</p>
<p>From my perspective, I pounced on the opportunity because I knew Reed would do a great job, and I thought that he would lend us cozy gals gravitas. More on that in a moment.</p>
<p>I hadn’t known that Reed has another qualification: he teaches a short <a href="http://bulletin.hofstra.edu/index.php?catoid=30" target="_blank">summer course at Hofstra University</a> on mystery writing. As he put it, he needs to know how to guide his students in all sub-genres, including cozies.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/podcasts.htm" target="_blank">A podcast of the panel</a> is available on my website, ready for you to download. (As an aside, I audio record <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/blog/blog_archives.htm" target="_blank">all of these blogs</a> , and they’re available as podcasts, too. So are all of <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/podcasts.htm" target="_blank">the other panels</a> I participated in and on at LCC. Various <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/podcasts.htm" target="_blank">audio</a> and <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/blog/videos.htm" target="_blank">video</a> interviews are posted online, too.)</p>
<p>Back to Reed adding gravitas: Cozies get little to no respect in the mystery community. Many of us who write in this sub-genre prefer the descriptor traditional—to some people the term “cozy” connotes poorly plotted books in which a cat solves the crime. That’s not true of course, or at least it’s not always true, but it’s a stigma that has stuck. Cozies are, in fact, among the fastest growing sub-genres in the mystery world. Readers like them. They like series where they get to know the town and its characters, where order is made out of chaos, and where good trumps evil every time.</p>
<p>My books, the <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/blog/videos.htm" target="_blank">Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries</a>, do just that—but they’re also serious and literary. <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/CTD_reviews.htm" target="_blank">Kirkus Reviews</a>, one of the most prestigious reviewing entities, has a reputation for not liking most books. So far, I’m thrilled to report that they’ve liked mine. They’ve called the series “erudite.” As you might imagine, I was over the moon when I read that! I ran around the house calling, “I got the ‘E’ word! I got the ‘E’ word!” They also wrote: “Antiques Roadshow fans and mystery lovers will delight!” I love Kirkus Reviews.</p>
<p>Sometimes, looking at my <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/DA.htm" target="_blank">book covers</a>, you’ve got to wonder, though. We’re morphed from serious (the <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/CTD.htm" target="_blank">Consigned to Death hardcove</a>r) to playful (the about-to-be-released <a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/books/ATDF.htm" target="_blank">Antiques to Die For</a>). My style of writing hasn’t changed—the stories are still fair-play traditional mysteries with a literary ethos—but more books sell with lighter-hearted covers. Fine by me.</p>
<p>But because the books look un-serious, and because I’m a niche writer of a themed cozy series—I was delighted that Reed joined us. His literary muscle; multiple awards and award nominations; his stellar reputation in the field; and the sheer beauty of his prose added gravitas to us cozy gals. Thanks, Reed.</p>
<p>I welcome your comments.</p>Finding My Way: Thoughts on Plottingtag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-02-23:537324:BlogPost:1255192008-02-23T01:30:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<h2>Finding My Way: Thoughts on Plotting</h2>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-02-21_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>In <em>Antiques to Die For</em>, the third Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery, I wrote without an outline. Boy, was that a mistake. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that. Writing without an outline worked out pretty well in the first two books in the series, but man, it sure didn't with this one.</p>
<p>Not that I knew it at the…</p>
<h2>Finding My Way: Thoughts on Plotting</h2>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-02-21_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>In <em>Antiques to Die For</em>, the third Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery, I wrote without an outline. Boy, was that a mistake. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that. Writing without an outline worked out pretty well in the first two books in the series, but man, it sure didn't with this one.</p>
<p>Not that I knew it at the time, but what I think happened is that I succumbed to the allure of the moment. I fell in love with minor subplots, unnecessary characters, and intriguing, but irrelevant descriptions. I lost my rhythm.</p>
<p>Luckily, my brilliant St. Martin's Minotaur editor, executive editor, Hope Dellon, helped me understand where and how I'd gone astray. Her specific observations enabled me to get back on track. But there's a cautionary tale in all this: revising it was a nightmare. I'd gone off on so many tangents and got myself so completely confused that I, essentially, had to start all over. I'd wasted time creating engaging, but distracting and irrelevant, characters; it was a mess.</p>
<p>Don't get me wrong—I'm completely thrilled with the final product—and I'm delighted to report that <em>Antiques to Die For</em> is getting great reviews. Publishers Weekly, for instance, wrote that <em>Antiques to Die For</em> was "a cleverly crafted cozy." Isn't that nice? Very gratifying. Kirkus Reviews, which many authors report frequently publishes negative reviews, has consistently been good to me. They said that <em>Antiques to Die For</em> features "a fine array of suspects."</p>
<p>Here's the macro lesson: by listening to my editor, I was able to find my way back to the story. It's always about the story. I wanted to write about a 12-year old girl who was all alone. I wanted Josie to be able to help her. Instead, I was writing about a porcelain expert in Asia. Let me explain. My problems fell into three broad categories: Tangents, sub-plots, and irrelevant characters.</p>
<p><strong>Tangents</strong>. I got caught up in my own writing. I don't mean to sound immodest, but it's true. There I am, writing along, when all of a sudden, I realize I've gone into a long, fascinating (to me) description detailing the background of a porcelain expert. For example, this expert had a love affair with an international student when he was at college, which led him to follow her back to her country after graduation. Okay, I'll stop there. But in my manuscript, I didn't stop at all. I went on and on for pages. All for what should have been a one paragraph cameo appearance.</p>
<p><strong>Sub-plots</strong>. My problem with sub-plots is related to my problem with tangents. For instance, I thought the porcelain expert's experience in Asia could become a nifty sub-plot about fake pottery. While I always include sub-plots about antiques and collectibles, this one, while interesting, took me in the wrong direction. My sub-plots must meet these standards: they're antiques-oriented, not character-oriented; they're local to New Hampshire either because they occur in New Hampshire or they feature a New Hampshire person or object; and they showcase Josie as an expert. Whew, was I on a misguided mission by heading off to Asia. That might be a great story—but it's not appropriate in this story.</p>
<p><strong>Irrelevant characters</strong>. It's so, so hard for me to resist painting mini-portraits of every character I mention in the book, from the mailman to the Asian girlfriend that the porcelain expert followed to her home. I love people and I love discovering their quirks and peccadilloes. But it's an indulgence, and it's not good writing. Having to focus on minor characters distracts readers from the main event.</p>
<p>By following Hope's guidance, I succeeded in finding my way back. And by finding my way back, I was able to tell the story I wanted to tell. I hope you enjoy Antiques to Die For.</p>
<p>Here's what the book is about:</p>
<blockquote><p>After setting up shop as an antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott's life has not gone according to plan: business is booming and she has good friends and a promising romance—but dead bodies keep crossing her path. And now, in Antiques to Die For , a friend is killed just hours after confiding a secret to Josie, leaving a bereaved sister who reminds Josie of herself when her mother died.</p>
<p>It turns out that the victim had other secrets, too: a mysterious treasure she told her sister she was leaving behind—and a secret admirer who now seems to be turning his creepy attention to Josie.</p>
<p>Can you imagine what it would be like to be a 12-year old orphan whose sister is murdered? Can you imagine what it would be like if your sister told you that you owned a treasure—a priceless antique—but you don't know what it is or where it is?</p>
<p>Set on the beautiful and rugged New Hampshire coastline, Antiques to Die For is filled with antiques lore and complex plot twists. In the end, using her knowledge of antiques, Josie finds the valuable treasure—and solves the crime. And in doing so, she gives a young girl hope.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I hope you'll give it a whirl. A text and downloadable podcast of Antiques to Die For, and a book trailer, are available on my website.</p>
<p>For Josie #4 (due out April 2009, tentatively titled Killer Keepsakes), I wrote a detailed synopsis. It ran almost 40 pages. Forty pages! Can you imagine?</p>
<p>It was the first time I'd ever attempted to create an outline of this complexity. Now, as I write this blog entry, I'm within spitting distance of the end, and I can report with confidence that I'm very glad I wrote that synopsis.</p>
<p>From now on, I'm an outline girl!</p>The Anatomy of Persuasiontag:crimespace.ning.com,2008-02-03:537324:BlogPost:1222082008-02-03T22:31:21.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-01-21_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about the nature of persuasive arguments. Why is one person good at it, and not another?</p>
<p>Certainly, one needs well-framed and well-developed content and a delivery style people find pleasant to listen to or read—after all, people aren't stupid and they won't pay attention unless they want to. But that's all theory... in order…</p>
<p><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2008-01-21_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></p>
<p>I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about the nature of persuasive arguments. Why is one person good at it, and not another?</p>
<p>Certainly, one needs well-framed and well-developed content and a delivery style people find pleasant to listen to or read—after all, people aren't stupid and they won't pay attention unless they want to. But that's all theory... in order to become more persuasive in person or in print, I needed to understand more about the structure of persuasion. I developed the Matrix of Persuasion to help me persuade others to my points of view.</p>
<p>You'll notice that across the top I'm contrasting two variables: are people "on your side"? Or not? On the left, I'm considering whether people have the resources they need to do as I ask. Are they constrained? Or not?</p>
<p>As an aside, I'll mention that while I'm presenting the matrix to you as black and white—people either are constrained or they aren't—it's not that simple. There's degrees. Someone might have the money, but not the time, for instance. Likewise on the variables of whether they're on your side or not—they may know you only a little bit. Think of the matrix as a bit amorphous—more gray than black and white.</p>
<p align="center"><img src="http://www.janecleland.net/images/blog/Matrix-of-Persuasion.jpg" alt="Matrix of Persuasion" height="337" width="450"/></p>
<p>By identifying which of the four quadrants your persuasive task fits into, you'll be better able to identify your readers' or listeners' needs, and thus write or speak more effectively.</p>
<p>As you review the matrix, note that you're first asked to determine if your target readers are "On your side" or "Not on your side." Think about the people you're trying to reach. Do they know you? Do they like you? Are they predisposed in your favor? Or not?</p>
<p>Next, consider whether they're capable of doing as you ask, or are they constrained? Do they have the requisite time, authority, interest, motivation, money, or whatever resources are needed to do what you're hoping they will do? Or are there constraints that you'll need to help them overcome?</p>
<p>The implications are expressed as bullet points within each quadrant. Doesn't it make sense that if you're trying to persuade someone to do something they're capable of doing, it's an easier persuasion task than trying to persuade someone to do something when they don't know who you are? In that case, first you have to educate them as to why you're credible.</p>
<p>The Matrix of Persuasion is a "big-picture" tool. It will help you get your thoughts in order. It allows you to take what you know and consider how best to use this information to influence outcomes by analyzing the anatomy of persuasion</p><h1>Write to Touch Your Readers’ Hearts and Minds</h1>tag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-12-12:537324:BlogPost:1067992007-12-12T16:00:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p><span class="h4turq"><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2007-12-03_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></span></p>
<p>Kate White, editor-in-chief of <em>Cosmopolitan</em> magazine and the best-selling author of the Bailey Weggins mystery series, said she frequently reminds herself to write big and bold—to find the best way of expressing exactly what it is she wants to say to knock her readers' socks off.</p>
<p>"I have a tendency to hold back with my writing,"…</p>
<p><span class="h4turq"><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcasts/2007-12-03_blog.m3u" target="_blank">Listen to the Blogcast</a></span></p>
<p>Kate White, editor-in-chief of <em>Cosmopolitan</em> magazine and the best-selling author of the Bailey Weggins mystery series, said she frequently reminds herself to write big and bold—to find the best way of expressing exactly what it is she wants to say to knock her readers' socks off.</p>
<p>"I have a tendency to hold back with my writing," she wrote, "be a little tentative about going big and bold." She added that she doubted she was the only one.</p>
<p>I think that's true and I think it relates to trying to please all the people all the time. Can't be done, of course, but that doesn't stop many of us from trying.</p>
<p>The idea of writing big and bold appeals to me in every way. I like the words themselves—big and bold—and I like the image those words conjure up for me. If I write big and bold, it's possible that my words will impact people, will make them think, encourage them to do their best, or inspire them to take courageous action.</p>
<p>But it's far easier said than done because what speaks to one reader's heart and mind doesn't necessarily touch another at all. You know that old adage, <em>One man's meat is another man's poison</em>. Certainly that's true in mysteries. To paraphrase, One reader's "big and bold" isn't another reader's "big and bold." The trick, I think, is knowing what's big and bold to <em>your</em> target readers.</p>
<p>Julia Spencer-Fleming, who won the 2007 Nero Award, told me that in her new novel, <em>I Shall Not Want</em> (coming in May 2008 from St. Martin's Minotaur), she has an ungrammatical line that the copy editor tried to "clean up." The line is: "In the church."</p>
<p>Think about that! When readers of her Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne mysteries read one of the series, they know what they're getting. Julia describes them as "novels of faith and murder for readers of literary suspense." Big and bold in this context is: "In the church."</p>
<p>I'm currently writing the fourth entry in my traditional mystery series featuring antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott. As I'm writing, I ask myself what's big and what's bold to my readers. I know that big and bold is evocative and meaningful. And I know that big and bold statements relate to the themes that reoccur in the books, and that seem to resonate with my readers.</p>
<p>Those themes include Josie's emotional strength; her romantic and tender relationship with Ty Alverez; her Portsmouth-based company's growth; the ever-presence of the ocean tides and the enduring beauty of Rocky Point's dunes and sandy beach; Josie's efforts to establish a community and fit in; and antiques lore.</p>
<p><a name="excerpt" id="excerpt"></a>Here are some big and bold statements that will occur in Josie #4, <em>Killer Keepsakes</em>:</p>
<ul>
<li>Prescott's: Antiques and Auctions was featured as the top small antiques auction house, and I was proud as punch.</li>
<li>"Cope first, fall apart later. Your friend needs you, Josie," my father told me. "Cope first, fall apart later."</li>
<li>I'd felt sucker-punched, as if I'd fallen into a black hole I couldn't climb out of, a dark downward spiral filled with jarring misery.</li>
<li>After I got settled, I pressed my forehead against the bay window and cupped my hands over my eyes, trying to see the lighthouse on the far bank. I knew it was there, but in the darkness and rain, I couldn't make it out. Its light shone through, however, a wide sweep of gold arcing rhythmically side-to-side, over and over again, alerting ships that they were approaching land. It was hypnotic.</li>
</ul>
<p>What about it? Do any of those words speak to you? Do they touch your heart or mind? I hope so, and of course, as always, I welcome your comments.</p><h1>A Cynic's Views of Thanksgiving Volunteers</h1>tag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-11-19:537324:BlogPost:970582007-11-19T01:00:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p class="body12brn">Here’s an example of why I sometimes have trouble admiring people who volunteer on Thanksgiving and Christmas at organizations like soup kitchens. I overheard a woman explain her intentions by saying, “My son is going to his girlfriend’s family, so we might as well.” In other words, she and her husband are volunteering because they have nothing better to do.</p>
<p class="body12brn">Most soup kitchens don’t need volunteers on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Lots of people…</p>
<p class="body12brn">Here’s an example of why I sometimes have trouble admiring people who volunteer on Thanksgiving and Christmas at organizations like soup kitchens. I overheard a woman explain her intentions by saying, “My son is going to his girlfriend’s family, so we might as well.” In other words, she and her husband are volunteering because they have nothing better to do.</p>
<p class="body12brn">Most soup kitchens don’t need volunteers on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Lots of people volunteer on those days. Since the commitment is minimal, it’s actually not that much effort, and it sounds so good when you mention it at holiday cocktail parties.</p>
<p class="body12brn">Soup kitchens—and many other kinds of organizations that function year-round and depend on volunteers—like suicide prevention hotlines, homeless shelters, hospital gift shop clerks, and so on—need volunteers every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Some are desperate for qualified helpers. You want to impress me at a cocktail party, tell me about that kind of volunteer effort.</p>
<p class="body12brn">I worked on a 24-hour suicide prevention/crisis intervention hotline for more than seven years, and I wish I could still do it, but I can’t. I can’t do it because I work two full-time jobs and volunteer in two additional roles. My jobs include my “day job” as an instructional designer/corporate trainer and my “other job” as a novelist. My volunteer commitments include serving as the president of Mystery Writers of America/New York Chapter and the chair of the Wolfe Pack’s literary awards. (We’re the folks that give out the Nero and the new Black Orchid Novella award.) I barely have time to sleep.</p>
<p class="body12brn">I confess to daydreaming about the day that my career as a novelist takes off so that I can cut back on day job work (which, by the way, I’m fortunate enough to love). One of the first things I’ll do is volunteer at the suicide prevention hotline, or a similar organization, again.</p>
<p class="body12brn">The hotline I volunteered for was humanistic, non-religious, non-therapeutic, and non-intervention-based. I loved my work there. We volunteers fielded more than 45,000 calls a year from our fellow citizens. To qualify for work on the hotline, I had to complete a 13-week certificate training program. Most of the training focused on communications. To stay “Active,” I had to fulfill a once/week commitment of four to five hours, plus a monthly overnight. A commitment like that is different from serving soup once or twice a year.</p>
<p class="body12brn">America has a very high rate of volunteerism, and I honor everyone who donates time. That said, and perhaps you find me cynical, but I admire people who volunteer all year round more than those who only volunteer when it’s convenient and easy.</p>
<p class="body12brn">As Dr. M. Scott Peck once wrote, “Love equals time spent.”</p>MANAGING TIME WISELY: IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEADtag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-10-31:537324:BlogPost:881682007-10-31T12:00:00.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<span style="font-size: 85%; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcast/2007-10-27_blog.m3u">(Or Listen to the Blogcast)</a><br></br><br></br></span><span style="">For many years, I was the official
"cookie baker" for my family’s holiday get-togethers. Chocolate chip<br />
cookies were my specialty, but I dabbled in sugar, chocolate, apple,<br />
creamy fillings, and other gourmet styles, too.<br></br><br></br>As the years
passed, and I became busier at work, I grew less entranced with…</span>
<span style="font-size: 85%; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><a href="http://www.janecleland.net/htm/podcast/2007-10-27_blog.m3u">(Or Listen to the Blogcast)</a><br/><br/></span><span style="">For many years, I was the official
"cookie baker" for my family’s holiday get-togethers. Chocolate chip<br />
cookies were my specialty, but I dabbled in sugar, chocolate, apple,<br />
creamy fillings, and other gourmet styles, too.<br/><br/>As the years
passed, and I became busier at work, I grew less entranced with the<br />
prospect of baking dozens of cookies under enormous time constraints.<br />
In fact, to me, baking cookies for the holidays became a duty, not a<br />
pleasure. Then came the year when I was up past midnight completing the<br />
task. I was irritated and snappy. The next day, I grumbled to my<br />
husband that this had to stop. "I’m too busy to bake all these<br />
cookies!" I complained. And, cleverly, I thought, I asked him to call<br />
my mother and tell her that I was no longer going to bake cookies. He<br />
declined.<br/><br/>The next year, as cookie-baking time approached, I
girded myself, picked up the phone and said, "Ma, I’ve made a decision.<br />
I’m just too busy. This year, I’m not going to bake cookies. I’m going<br />
to buy them instead."<br/><br/>I’d expected a long, sad silence, followed
by, "All right, dear," or some similar, kindly worded phrase that left<br />
me feeling inadequate and guilty. Instead, do you know what my mother<br />
said? "Sounds smart!"<br/><br/>And in that one flash of a moment, I
learned an important lesson. I learned that what I’d perceived as an<br />
obligation had never, in fact, existed at all. My family thought I<br />
liked baking cookies. And I did! I just didn’t like having to bake<br />
them. I’d volunteered once, then a second time, then a third, until<br />
finally it became an expected part of family get-togethers. I could<br />
have stopped any time, but I didn’t think I could The sense that it was<br />
a non-negotiable duty was all in my own head.<br/><br/>I recall that
story a lot when I’m struggling with time management issues. I really,<br />
really want to spend my time doing things I value—not doing things<br />
other people value—or doing things because I think other people value<br />
them—or doing things that have become part of a tradition simply<br />
because they’re been done in the past.<br/><br/>That’s pretty
unconventional thinking, I know. Most people value traditions for their<br />
own sake. I don’t. I value traditions for the deeper meaning they<br />
convey to me at that moment in time. And those deeper meanings shift as<br />
my circumstances and needs change.<br/><br/>For instance, I used to
decorate like a wild woman for every holiday. I don’t anymore. For<br />
Halloween, as an example, I’d suspend paper skeletons from the ceiling<br />
in front of windows, adding backlighting so they’d glow eerily as they<br />
fluttered, and I’d hung a metal wreath of black cats with raised backs<br />
on the front door. To say nothing of the spiders and cobwebs and<br />
jack-o-lanterns! Now I put a few mini-pumpkins on the fireplace mantle<br />
and call it a day.<br/><br/>Why the change? I liked my big-time
decorations—a lot. It was fun to do and fun to live with. I don’t do it<br />
anymore because I don’t need the joy the decorations provided to fill a<br />
void and I’d rather spend my time doing other things.<br/><br/>During the
period when I’d decorated every nook and cranny of my apartment, I was<br />
enduring a tough time in my life—my mother had died, my brother had<br />
died, my beloved cat had died, and I’d gotten divorced after a 20-year<br />
marriage—all within a year or so. Decorating provided joy during a<br />
joyless time.<br/><br/>Things are different now. I’m happily remarried and doing work I adore. For the moment, all is well in my world.<br/><br/>Time—we
all have only so much of it. If you’re like me, you strive to spend it<br />
wisely, by your own definition of "wise." But if you bake cookies for<br />
the holidays, may I please have one?<br/><br/>Your thoughts? I’d welcome your comments.</span><br/>Living by the United Nationstag:crimespace.ning.com,2007-09-30:537324:BlogPost:773762007-09-30T22:25:11.000ZJane Clelandhttp://crimespace.ning.com/profile/cleland
<p style="color: rgb(222, 222, 160); font-family: Georgia,Helvetica;"><font size="3">I live on the block that ends at the United Nations. The General Assembly is about to sit for its annual meeting. Many countries’ leaders are in town. Security is high.<br></br><br></br>Security has always been high, but since 9/11, it’s been astonishing. Last year, for the first time ever, I was stopped from entering my own block. The president of Pakistan was stepping out from his hotel into a limo as I stood…</font></p>
<p style="color: rgb(222, 222, 160); font-family: Georgia,Helvetica;"><font size="3">I live on the block that ends at the United Nations. The General Assembly is about to sit for its annual meeting. Many countries’ leaders are in town. Security is high.<br/><br/>Security has always been high, but since 9/11, it’s been astonishing. Last year, for the first time ever, I was stopped from entering my own block. The president of Pakistan was stepping out from his hotel into a limo as I stood watching, a block away. I wonder if anything similar will occur this year. <br/><br/>During this two-week period, routine security precautions include a heightened police presence, ID checks in order to step onto the block, and bomb-sniffing dogs that cruise up and down the sidewalks. <br/><br/>There will be snipers on the U.N. roof gazing at me as I watch them from my dining room window, but there won’t be many cars. Almost no vehicles are allowed on the block during this time, and those that are have been checked six ways to Sunday. There’ll be a staging area set up on the block before mine to vet automobiles. They use a nice-looking tent as an office. It covers half the street, and between you and me, I burn with curiosity about what transpires inside. <br/><br/>There’s also lots of Secret Service fellows around—you can recognize them by their handsome dark suits and the flesh-colored curly wire that runs from their ears along their necks, disappearing under their jackets. Last year I spotted two females. They wore dark suits too. I wonder whether there’ll be more women this year.<br/><br/>Remote car door openers don’t work. Somehow, the signal is blocked and locked cars have to be opened the old-fashioned way—with a key.<br/><br/>I get a kick out of all the fervor. Being in the presence of so much earnest security makes me feel that I’m in the thick of things. It’s exciting! And as I think of it, I am, in fact, in the thick of things. The Egyptian Mission to the U.N. is next door. Kuwait is across the street. Nigeria is on the corner and India is half a block away, near the tent. <br/><br/>I love living in New York City all the time, but I especially love it when the weather’s crisp, and the trees are dappled with deep orange and fiery red and iridescent yellow, and the apples I buy at the Green Market at Union Square are fresh and crunchy and sweet, and the diplomats return for another season of trying to keep the peace. <br/><br/>For me, this experience of dramatic security measures on the street where I live is one of the first signs of autumn. How do you know when it’s autumn? What happens in your neck of the woods that’s unique? I’d welcome your comments.</font></p>