Chaos versus Control

     VS.

There are two very active spider webs side by side on my back deck. I am not a fan of spiders, so when I saw them, my first impulse was to grab a broom and sweep them away. But as I looked closer, the startling differences between the two webs intrigued me.

One was classic, elegant, perfectly aligned, with spokes of geometric precision so perfect that one wonders whether the spider has terrible OCD. It is clean and orderly and efficient. No wasted space. No wasted energy.

The other is scattershot, crazily strung from chair to rail, like the spider was on a drunken bender. This has gathered leaves and dirt and is littered with bug casings. Its chaos and disorder and sheer disarray works, but looks like a downright mess.

I know these are the webs of two very different spiders.

It is also an excellent visual metaphor for two very different writers.

Writer A – let’s call her Control Spider – has a process. A method. She rises early, gets some exercise, eats a good breakfast and starts work with a clear head. Control spider probably outlines her story, so she knows what she has to tackle during that day’s writing session. She edits her previous day’s work, then forges ahead, clear about her path. She gets her words down on the page then breaks for the day, utilizing the afternoon to read, run errands, prepare a meal. She goes to bed at a decent hour and does it all again the next day.

Writers B – Chaos Spider – is scattered. Like her messy web, she has no process, no method. Her writing day is not structured. She is catch as catch can, writing when the spirit moves her or the deadline gets close. Chaos spider may even be a daily writer, loading the page with words, having exultant moments when the words, characters, story take her places she never expected. She is often surprised when she sees her word counts at the end of the day, but never feels fully comfortable with her process.

Chaos Spider and Control Spider make their deadlines, they just do it in two very different ways.

The question I’m sure you’re asking yourself is which way is right?

The answer is: Both.

While on the surface Control Spider looks like the better method, she can get into such a routine that her work becomes stale and ordinary. Precise, yes, but even perfection can get boring sometimes.

On the other hand, Chaos Spider can spin works of sheer genius, her far-flung web bringing together pieces of life in ways no one imagined before, but won’t remember to wash her clothes or cook her dinner.

It’s best to find ways to incorporate both aspects into your writing day. Control Spider needs to build her web next to Chaos Spider so she can see that even when you break the rules, you can still catch your prey. Chaos Spider parked herself next to Control Spider for the same reason, to see how the other half lives, to watch the precision and beauty with which Control Spider spins her web, and absorb some of the benefits to being next to that serenity.

Having a plan and a goal is wonderful, commendable even. But allowing Chaos Spider to crawl onto the page, even for five minutes, will bring a fresh perspective to your writing.

Which are you? Control Spider or Chaos Spider? I must admit, I’m a bit of both.

Greetings From Colorado

Happy Tuesday, chickens! I've jetted across the country to Colorado, where I am taking refuge from all this travel at my parents'. I'm holed up trying to meet a minor deadline, and this is just the place for it. Fresh mountain air, beautiful scenery, and some pets to love. They have an adorable miniature pincher named Jetta, and a gorgeous Siamese named Jamocha. If my man was here it would be perfect. That, and the disappearance of the pesky sore throat and fever that joined the party this morning. Not surprising after two weeks of canned air. I am sucking down tea and lozenges at a rapid pace.

Every time I come out here, I'm struck by the same emotions. I thought I'd share the essay I wrote once upon a time, (August 2006, to be exact) just because it makes me happy to do so. Here you go, and have a superb week!

I’m away from home this week, visiting family in Colorado. I'm trying to work. I’m sitting on the deck, trying desperately to hit that magic 1,000 word a day vacation goal. I’m pecking away at the keyboard of my laptop, and I can’t concentrate.

It is just so beautiful here.

This is my home, where I spent my formative years. All of my firsts happened in this area. I learned to golf, and swim, and play tennis, and ski here. I learned to drive, had my first kiss, lost a close friend to suicide. I spent all of my time out of doors, leaving the house first thing in the morning and not returning until the gloaming. There were three of us in kindergarten, and it wasn’t until second grade that they decided to bus in some kids from neighboring areas, so we weren’t alone.

I learned to drive, to dream, to work. I fell in and out of love with my brother’s friends. I snuck off into the red rocks with a couple of friends to smoke cigarettes; we discovered dinosaur tracks in the rocks. I was isolated by geography, yet lived the fullest possible life that a child could lead.

These are often melancholy memories, for I left this area under extreme duress when I was a teenager. My parents moved us to Washington, D.C., someplace I had absolutely no interest in going to. I cried for a year. I left every part of me behind. For many unfortunate years, I believed I left the best parts of me behind.

This area is so fraught with emotion, with memories, that I can’t seem to work on the new book. From an objective sense, the beauty of the area overwhelms me. But what’s really happening is everywhere I look, I see the ghost of a smaller me, sniffing the bark of the pine trees trying to decide if the scent is chocolate, strawberry or vanilla. (Don’t believe me? Try it.)

I am so inextricably linked to these woods, these rocks, the greens, blues, blacks and browns, the deer and bear, that I can’t seem to keep Nashville and Taylor Jackson, my protagonist, foremost in my mind.

I’ve settled for writing some short stories. The tenor is completely different from some of my earlier work. It’s moody, and atmospheric, and I’m finding new expressions to illustrate my surroundings. I think once I’m back home, in my office, staring at the river birch outside my window, I’ll be able to refocus on Nashville, and killers, and homicide lieutenants.

This does not bode well for the lifelong dream – the house in Tuscany half the year to write, write, write.

In the meantime, I want to watch the black storm clouds lurk over the jade and stone mountains. I want to smell the sparkling air, tinged with the scent of wet asphalt, moldy leaves and the barest hint of skunk. I want to laugh at the antics of the towhees, scratching for dinner in the scrub oak.

I want to watch the golfers stream in off the course, shouting admirations to one another as they come in to the 19th hole for a post-round drink.

I want to watch the deer wander through the backyard, stopping at the birdbath for a quenching draught of water. They all seem to have had twins this year, so Bambi keeps interrupting my thoughts. (As does Jetta the Wonderdog.) They’re all adorable.

Each time I return, I realize that I didn’t leave the best parts of me behind, but stamped my imprint on the area in such a palpable yet subtle way that I will always feel like I’ve come home.

It’s okay that I can’t work on the book. There are other avenues to explore, other stories to put on paper. I hope to take it home with me, this texture and depth. For today though, this setting is just one spark that I will use to write something... different.

So tell me, what's your favorite place in the world???

Best Links of the Week

A gathering of the most interesting stories and essays of the week.

Lessons from Sherlock Holmes: How do you kill your hero? | Literally Psyched, Scientific American Blog Network 

What It Takes: Art and Polarity -Why it's OK to make, and believe, judgments about people. You must do so for your art.

5 Writing Tips from Tana French  (Great tips from a superb writer)

Nominalizations Are Zombie Nouns  (Such a fabulous article - simple, direct, plain language is always best.)

Confessions of a Hypochondriac: The New Yorker (Hurrah! Hypochondriacs unite!)

August Newsletter

August 2012
Volume XV

My dear readers: 

For those of you new to the newsletter, welcome! Thank you for joining, I'm thrilled to see you here! Pour that hot tea over a cup of ice, pull up a chair, and let's get to it. 

The days are getting shorter, the political landscape is heating up and if you're anything like me, escape is the only acceptable course of action. Since this is the last of my summer newsletters, I must suggest some more excellent beach reads. New this month are books from some of my favorites authors: a YA thriller by Michelle Gagnon, DON'T TURN AROUND; the latest Lucy Kincaid thriller from Allison Brennan, STALKED; a lovely romantic thriller, HERON'S COVE, byCarla Neggers, and an intense religious thriller from Sean Chercover: THE TRINITY GAME. Goodness, I see a trend. So let's buck it with one last recommendation — THE MAGICIANS, by Lev Grossman. It's Donna Tartt's THE SECRET HISTORY meets Harry Potter — intellectual thermonuclear magic for adults. I couldn't put it down.

A DEEPER DARKNESS Releases in Australia 

You've been so patient and so kind, and finally, here it is! I'm so excited to share that Sam has gone down under. There's a great contest associated with the release as well, click here to enter. Would love to hear what you think of the new book.

Contest

The July contest has closed, and the winner is Barbara Gonzales. Congratulations! Your copy of THRILLER 3: LOVE IS MURDER is on its way. And of course that means the August contest is now open. At stake this month is the audiobook of A DEEPER DARKNESS, read by Joyce Bean. You can enter here. 

News

I've just returned from RWA's national conference in Anaheim, California. I was honored to have WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE nominated for a RITA® in romantic suspense, and the awards ceremony was an extravaganza. J.D. Robb ended up winning my category, but I had an absolute blast. It was great to scrap the yoga pants in favor of a real live ball gown. Pics are up on the Facebook page, and I'll upload them to the site soon. 

The neat thing about attending a massive conference (1800 attendees and 800 writers) is the inspiration. I always come out of conferences with a sense of urgency about my writing, a need to get down to work, produce tons of words, and be a real writer. There's something about seeing people honored for their 100th, heck, 200th book that is a vital kick in the butt. If you're a writer, or want to be, I highly recommend finding your nearest writers' conference and attending. It's an eye opening experience. And if you're a reader, trust me, being in the same room as 50 or so of your favorite writers at once is so worth it.

Tours

On the plane home, I took a good hard look at the calendar and realized I am actually booking through 2014. I like to plan in advance, sure, but that's just ridiculous. 2013 is going to be a slower year for me on purpose, as I'll have three books and a short story to write, so staying home is vital. Next week I'm off to Cape Cod for the SEAK Conference for Doctors and Lawyers, then we are actually going on vacation. No internet! No working! (I delude myself into believing these declarations, but I will try to unplug.) October brings Nashville's very ownSouthern Festival of Books and in November I'll be at the Dahlonega Literary Festivalin Georgia. Looking forward to fall in the mountains! 

If you are a Nashville honey, there will be a happy hour fundraiser called BEER, BOOKS, AND BANTER to celebrate SoFest August 28, 5:30 p.m. at Yazoo Brewery. $20 at the door, RSVP to Georgia@HumanitiesTennessee.org. You really must attend, if only to celebrate like-minded people's love of the Oxford comma. 

August Recipe

I don't know about you, but it's so hot that I barely want to eat, much less cook. This is the time of year when I feel my Italian roots the most — antipasto is the only good solution. We love honeydew and cantaloupe wrapped in lean prosciutto with a drizzle of EVOO and cracked pepper, hard salami with shaved parmesan and fresh mozzarella, and the simplest bruschetta on the planet — garlic-rubbed bread toasted under the broiler for a few minutes, topped with ripe halved cherry tomatoes, freshly picked sweet basil from the garden, a little EVOO and a grind of sea salt. Quick, simple, delicious. The trick is sweet basil versus regular. Makes all the difference in the world. 

Social Butterfly

Just a reminder: Facebook wants me to pay to have my posts seen in your timeline feeds. I find that unfair, so if you aren't seeing my updates, please come to the reader page,http://www.facebook.com/jtellison14, and Un-Like me. Yes, Un-Like me. Then “Like” me again, hover your mouse over the Liked button, and check the box that says Show in my Newsfeed. As an added bonus, leave a comment on the wall. Those few steps will help assure that you see my updates. But since I understand how algorithms work, (in other words, Facebook controls everything you see, whether you want to or not) I am also going to be spending a little more time on my personal blog. So if it crosses your mind that you haven't heard from me lately, hop on over to the blog and join the conversation there. As always, I'm playing on Twitter under the handle @thrillerchick. 

Enjoy the rest of your summer, and many blessings to all of you. Happy reading! 

xoxo,

A DEEPER DARKNESS Releases in Australia

A DEEPER DARKNESS goes down under with a kick ass cover and a great contest.

Thank you all for being so patient with the release!

ENTER NOW to WIN 1 of 5 Harlequin bestseller packs

As a medical examiner, Samantha Owens knows her job is to make a certain sense of death with crisp methodology and precision instruments. But when the Tennessee floods took her husband and children, the light vanished from Sam's life. She has been pulled into a suffocating grief no amount of workaholic ardour can penetrate — until she receives a peculiar call from Washington…

On the other end of the line is an old boyfriend's mother asking Sam to do a second autopsy on her son. Eddie Donovan is officially the victim of a vicious carjacking, but under Sam's sharp eye, the forensics tell a darker story. The ex-Ranger was murdered...though not for his car.

Forced to confront the burning memories and feelings about yet another loved one killed brutally, Sam loses herself in the mystery contained within Donovan's old notes. It leads her to the untouchable Xander — a soldier off-grid since his return from Afghanistan — and then to a series of brutal crimes stretching from that harsh mountainous war zone to the nation's capital.

The tale told between the lines makes it clear that nobody's hands are clean, and that making sense of murder sometimes means putting yourself in the crosshairs of death.