Vincent O'Neil's Posts - CrimeSpace2024-03-29T08:15:39ZVincent O'Neilhttps://crimespace.ning.com/profile/VincentONeilhttps://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/60995603?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1https://crimespace.ning.com/profiles/blog/feed?user=1jtdzfim2yaf6&xn_auth=noResearch and Writing: It’s not just the facts after alltag:crimespace.ning.com,2010-10-06:537324:BlogPost:2522252010-10-06T17:30:00.000ZVincent O'Neilhttps://crimespace.ning.com/profile/VincentONeil
<p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><font color="#000000" face="Times New Roman" size="3">I’ve been writing in various genres for some time now, but only recently came to appreciate the link between research and inspiration. Yes, I know; it was probably always there, but I hadn’t really given it much thought until just a few years ago.…</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">I’ve been writing in various genres for some time now, but only recently came to appreciate the link between research and inspiration. Yes, I know; it was probably always there, but I hadn’t really given it much thought until just a few years ago.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Like so many former students, somewhere I got the impression that research merely put me in a position to start working on an idea, instead of helping me generate the idea itself. As a result, I had a definite ‘research’ phase, followed by a ‘brainstorming’ phase, and then the actual ‘writing’ phase. To me, research provided the backup for my non-fiction arguments and the framework for my fiction writing—and that was it.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Just a few years ago I began work on a mystery novel which became my first published book. I wrote that novel as an entry in the St. Martin’s Press “Malice Domestic” competition, and so I already had a few bare-bones requirements stipulated by the competition sponsors. Chief among these was the specification that my sleuth had to be an amateur, which pointed out a real deficiency in my knowledge base. Despite having read almost every book in Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe series and having watched just about every detective show ever put on TV, I knew next to nothing about the investigations business—amateur or otherwise. So I went and got the most basic primers on the subject and read them, believing that I’d jot down the concrete facts, shut the books, and then start my brainstorming.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Luckily I was wrong. The books I’d selected quickly took me in hand by explaining the things that private investigators do and, more importantly, the things they don’t do. They listed the requirements for being licensed as an investigator (which, depending on the state granting the license, can be extensive) and then described some of the many other skills the job can sometimes require (such as mining data from the Internet and videotaping in the dark). Along with this, my reading revealed that the investigations industry contains many people who aren’t licensed PIs: These secondary actors conduct background checks, create scripts for videotaped evidence presentations, gather pertinent court documents, and perform many other important duties.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Instead of being relegated to my notes, much of this new information helped me create my main character, fact-checker Frank Cole. His supporting role in the investigations business still qualified him as an amateur, and his work as a fact- and background-checker even suggested that he could have come from the computer world. This thought nudged me toward making him a software developer who had fallen on hard times (the book was written in 2004, well before our current economic situation) who then relocated to the small town of Exile, Florida. Not long after that, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Murder in Exile</i> took rough shape as an outline—thanks in large part to my new appreciation for the role of research in generating ideas.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">My most recent project involves a high-end murder mystery theater troupe, and once again I knew next to nothing about the main topic, which was the theater world. Knowing this, I began my study of this new environment with the most basic books on how to stage amateur theatricals. This time, however, the effect of the research wasn’t restricted to the novel I planned to write. Not surprisingly, given the topic, it began to improve both my writing and my storytelling.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">For example, I became modestly familiar with the physical properties of the stage and the ways in which actors direct the audience’s attention toward or away from events happening right in front of them. Although there are too many of these techniques to mention, I was now exposed to the idea of punctuating important spoken lines with some kind of action, or drawing attention to a character by contrasting his or her wardrobe with the nearest costumes and the stage’s background. Working these techniques into my new book, my dialogue passages soon began packing more punch than they had before—and they became much livelier too.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Reading up on how actors prepare for a role, I saw a link between the creation of characters in a novel and their development on the stage. For example, some actors will create a biographical sketch of the role they are playing in much the same way that authors build a character’s back story. This in-depth analysis of a role is highly beneficial, as it can help actors to detect those moments in the script where they are being asked to act or react in a way that doesn’t match their character’s personality. Authors can take advantage of this technique as well, to ensure that they don’t make this mistake—writing something that takes one of their creations ‘out of character’, so to speak.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">Having touched on the basics of stage management and character preparation, I then read the memoirs of several Broadway directors and was pleasantly struck by the similarity between directors and authors (many of those directors would disagree with me here). In both cases, the director or the writer provides a vision for how the story is to unfold, interprets the tale, and then selects various ways to tell it. The director is of course working with live people trained in their art, and so there is often a great deal of collaboration in theater. Strangely enough, I’ve encountered a similar relationship with some of my characters—people who exist only on the page who, nonetheless, still argue with me about how I’m portraying them. And like the directors conferring with—and sometimes deferring to—their actors, more often than not I’ll eventually listen to the stubborn character I’ve created who just won’t do what I ask. It’s amazing how many times these non-existent people are right.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><font color="#000000" size="3" face="Times New Roman">It’s been an interesting journey, going from student-trying-to-finish-his-paper-on-time to someone who appreciates the inspiration and direction that can come from basic research. At the very least it’s taught me to slow down enough to notice when some new piece of information holds a potentially useful suggestion for my story—and to understand that there is no such thing as the ‘research’ phase of writing a book. There is only an ongoing effort to learn more about the topic, which may not even end when the project is completed.</font></p>
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<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><a href="http://www.vincenthoneil.com">ww.vincenthoneil.com</a></span></p>Motivating Your Murderer: How your villain's motive can help develop the rest of your storytag:crimespace.ning.com,2010-10-02:537324:BlogPost:2518152010-10-02T02:06:56.000ZVincent O'Neilhttps://crimespace.ning.com/profile/VincentONeil
<font size="4">One of the great things about writing murder mysteries is the opportunity to imagine the mind of the villain. After all, no matter how many times we say we’d like to kill someone in real life, most of us thankfully aren’t ever going to get closer to the mindset of an actual murderer than that. So creating a realistic culprit is a true exercise in imagination, and it almost always involves the reason why the killer did it. Your villain’s motive can be a crucial element of your…</font>
<font size="4">One of the great things about writing murder mysteries is the opportunity to imagine the mind of the villain. After all, no matter how many times we say we’d like to kill someone in real life, most of us thankfully aren’t ever going to get closer to the mindset of an actual murderer than that. So creating a realistic culprit is a true exercise in imagination, and it almost always involves the reason why the killer did it. Your villain’s motive can be a crucial element of your mystery, and it can even help develop the rest of your book’s plot.<br/><br/>In real-world murder investigations, motive is almost always a key question. The victim’s relationships are searched for enemies, and the initial suspect list is frequently populated by people who had a reason to commit the act. <br/><br/>In murder mysteries, the revelation that a character wished harm on the victim can provide a strong clue to the reader—unless, of course, many other characters had a reason for the murder as well. In stories where no apparent motive is provided, it’s still important—even after the killer has been identified—to give a believable explanation for why the culprit did it. <br/><br/>On the lists of reasons why people commit murder, strong emotions like love or hatred hold prominent spots. That’s not surprising, as most people require an overwhelming impetus to do something this extreme. After all, love and hatred have been the prime motivations in tragic literary tales since time immemorial. Unfortunately, an intelligent killer would probably know that a strong attachment (or aversion) to the victim could place him or her on the suspect list if that feeling isn’t a secret. This might not stop the murderer, but it could force an adjustment in the plan: A killer whose strong feelings toward the victim are well known might deflect suspicion by making the death look like an accident or suicide, or by building a believable alibi.<br/><br/>This might not be necessary, of course, if the strong emotions which prompt the killing aren’t directed at the victim. If Character X loves Character Y and feels Character Z is mean to Character Y, X’s love of Y could lead X to kill Z—and if there’s no evidence connecting X to Z, the love motive in this murder might not be obvious at all. <br/><br/>For mystery writers, this might open a broader avenue of consideration when plotting the story: In the case of a murder involving concealed motives, an intricate web can be spun around who knows what about whom. In the prior example, if Y knows about X’s feelings (or learns of them after Z is killed), Y just might go to the police. However, if Y returns X’s affection, Y might lie to protect X instead. If someone else knows about X’s feelings for Y and connects that with Z’s perceived mistreatment of Y, that individual could blackmail X, or even Y, and perhaps provide X or Y (or both of them) with a new motive to kill. <br/><br/>This nicely leads to the issue of perception in a murderer’s motivation. The initial investigation into possible motives frequently involves the question, “Did the victim have any enemies?” The results of those inquiries could be based in fact (X once threatened Z in public) or they might be mere suspicion (an unsubstantiated feeling that X disliked Z). Interestingly, perception can also be a motive for a story’s culprit—and the more ambiguous the motivation is, the harder it will be for the investigator to find. A perceived insult can elicit deep resentment even when no insult was intended. An imaginary rivalry can lead to unexpressed feelings of loss and humiliation. The impression of being unappreciated or ignored can spur a character to take drastic action. If any of these motivations exists only in the mind of the killer, the victim will have little or no warning and the investigator may be left with no suspect.<br/><br/>A similar scenario involves the killer who hides the feelings or circumstances which prompt him or her to act. Knowing that a murder investigation will involve the hunt for motive, the culprit may go to great lengths to appear friendly with the victim. Motives beyond the emotional can factor into this part of the discussion as well; a killer who has no feelings for a victim who is simply “in the way” might try to conceal the benefit they accrue from the victim’s removal. To revisit the XYZ example, if Y and Z were dating each other and X killed Z in order to date Y, X might wait quite some time (or start a relationship with someone else) in order to hide the attraction to Y and the benefit of killing Z.<br/><br/>Motive is a key element in most murder investigations, and it’s an excellent starting point for plotting a murder mystery. As we’ve seen from these few paragraphs, it can also help develop the rest of the story by suggesting ways the killer could cover his or her tracks, pointing the investigation in a certain direction, causing other characters to lie or make dangerous demands, or demonstrating that the reason for the murder might be apparent only to the killer. Sounds like one heck of a mystery—at least in my book.<br/></font>The Mighty Tiny Tim: In Praise of the Short Storytag:crimespace.ning.com,2009-12-17:537324:BlogPost:2226782009-12-17T17:20:43.000ZVincent O'Neilhttps://crimespace.ning.com/profile/VincentONeil
I guest-blogged on The Stiletto Gang's website on December 17, 2009:<br />
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Recently, I had the good fortune to have two short stories included in anthologies. So when The Stiletto Gang (I have to work that name into one of my mystery novels) offered me the chance to guest blog for them, I decided to try and write something in praise of the short story.<br />
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Considering the season, I was not surprised when the image of Dickens’ Tiny Tim came to mind during my brainstorming. Not only is Tiny Tim short in…
I guest-blogged on The Stiletto Gang's website on December 17, 2009:<br />
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Recently, I had the good fortune to have two short stories included in anthologies. So when The Stiletto Gang (I have to work that name into one of my mystery novels) offered me the chance to guest blog for them, I decided to try and write something in praise of the short story.<br />
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Considering the season, I was not surprised when the image of Dickens’ Tiny Tim came to mind during my brainstorming. Not only is Tiny Tim short in stature, but he also employs a marvelous economy of words. “God bless us, every one!” is, I believe, his only line in A Christmas Carol and yet it sums up the story and its spirit quite nicely. It also ranks up there with “Bah, humbug!” as the most memorable line of that Christmas classic.<br />
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Tiny Tim’s kind of pithiness is an absolute must in short story writing, where the dreaded word limit sometimes suggests that we might have to sacrifice important elements. While it’s true that we don’t have a limitless number of pages for things such as character development, this in no way lets us off the hook. Just as Tiny Tim manages to cap Scrooge’s long night using only a few words, in the writing of short stories we have to look for more concise methods of communicating our ideas and information.<br />
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Although it’s taken from the world of theater, here’s an example of how a few actions and limited dialogue can yield a big result: On stage, a young woman is nervously hosting her father-in-law, who has dropped by the newlyweds’ apartment unannounced. The young woman offers the father-in-law some coffee, and leaves him in the living room while she goes into the kitchen. As soon as she’s gone, the father-in-law quickly and efficiently goes through the newlyweds’ mail, which was sitting on the table in front of him. He puts the letters and bills back in exactly the same place just before she returns, and is sitting there as if he’d done nothing in her absence.<br />
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The director providing this example described it as an efficient way of getting the audience to ponder many different possibilities regarding the character of the father-in-law. Is he merely a snoop, or is he worried about the young couple’s finances? Is there something in his son’s background that prompts him to be watchful? And why is he so good at snooping in the first place? All of these ideas and questions were conjured up in the minds of the audience by a few actions on stage, just like the space-saving devices we use when writing short stories.<br />
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To continue the topic of brevity, one of my instructors at The Fletcher School was noted for the pithiness of his class lectures. Commenting on that topic, he once said, “If you want me to speak for five minutes, I’ll need a week to prepare. If you want me to speak for a half an hour, I’ll need a day. And if you want me to speak for an hour, I’m ready right now.”<br />
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This was a comment on the demanding taskmaster that is brevity. In a seeming contradiction, it can take longer (and involve more work) to communicate your point in a single sentence than by using several paragraphs. It was also an observation that bamboozling an audience for an hour requires little preparation, while doing the same thing in five minutes is almost impossible. The requirement to organize our thoughts, and then express them succinctly in a convincing presentation of short duration, can be a very difficult task indeed.<br />
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And that’s why I like short stories. They’re the literary equivalent of the five-minute speech that takes so long to prepare—but hits the nail directly on the head.<br />
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Just like the mighty Tiny Tim. God bless us, everyone.<br />
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Vincent H. O’Neil (<a href="http://www.vincenthoneil.com">http://www.vincenthoneil.com</a>) is the award-winning author of the Frank Cole murder mystery series (Murder in Exile, Reduced Circumstances, and Exile Trust). His short story “Finish the Job”, about a father-daughter team of art thieves who don’t know when to quit, was recently released in the anthology Quarry: Crime Stories by New England Writers from Level Best Books (<a href="http://www.levelbestbooks.com/">http://www.levelbestbooks.com/</a>). His short story “Blood Tells”, about a money launderer who feels unappreciated, will be released in the anthology Bad Cop-No Donut from Padwolf Publishing in the spring of 2010.