Thursday, May 24: Femme Fatale
THINKING LIKE A WRITER
by Deborah Elliott-Upton
High above the clear water of Lake Tahoe, the blue sky echoed the startling hue making both appear infinite. Evergreens packed the surrounding landscape like sardines in a tin. My brother-in-law, Charlie, had boned up on the history of the area and knew the lake’s depth and when the township had been founded among other interesting tidbits. One hand on the wheel, the other directing our attention to points of interest, Charlie drove along the perimeter. My sister, Connie, sat next to him in the front and my husband and I in the rental car’s backseat.
Connie had invited us on their vacation and we’d accepted. Originally, I had tagged along just to see the Ponderosa where Pa Cartwright raised those three strapping, good-looking sons. But now, driving around the lake and listening to Charlie’s history lesson, my mind wandered.
I vaguely remember the three of them discussing lunch plans when Connie turned halfway in the seat to face me and asked, “What are you thinking so hard about?â€
Without looking away from the steep drop from the roadway to the lake, I answered, “How easy it’d be to stuff a dead body in a lawn bag, roll it down from the road’s edge at midnight and into the lake.â€
When I glanced up, three sets of raised eyebrows and stone-cold silence reminded me I was a mystery writer and these three were not. Any of my mystery-writing friends would understand my thought pattern.
We don’t think like normal people.
Once at the hospital, while waiting for my mother’s blood to be taken, I asked the technician, “What would you do if someone came in here with a gun and a filled syringe and insisted you inject the mysterious liquid into the next patient?â€
When the tech paled, Mom rolled her eyes. “My daughter,†Mother said with a dramatic sigh. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s a mystery writer. She doesn’t mean anything by that.â€
Writers imagine all sorts of things going on in what is most likely innocent conversation at adjoining tables in restaurants.
We imagine wonderfully tragic stories about the new teacher at the local high school and give the librarian a secret past. The letter carrier may be a spy or the dog groomer sending secret codes via implants in our household pets.
How boring it might be to know the truth isn’t quite as mysterious. Isn’t it lucky that writers will weave these imaginary tales into delightful short stories for us to share?
Look beyond the ordinary, the normal and see what is hidden. A mysterious world awaits. All you need to do is open a book.
The sister of an old girlfriend used to warn her that if I was so interested in crime, I must have violent, criminal tendencies and that one day my girlfriend would wake up dead.
That’s plain silly.
Of course her sister hasn’t been seen recently…
I one time called the local county D.A.’s office to ask a question about the punishment for accidentally running over a pedestrian. I carefully explained that I was a writer doing research to every new person they transferred me to, but after a while I began to feel as if I was on the stand. Finally they gave me a half hearted answer and then suggested I might want to come down and talk to them in person.
I hung up scratching my head wondering why they’d all sounded so suspicious. Then I picked up the newspaer and the headlines read – Hit And Run Pedestrian Killed On Interstate. I waited all day for the police to surround my house but they never did.
LOL! I do this all the time and thought I was the only one. :]] Thanks for the eye opener!!
It’s amazing how one can relate to such things, even if only fiction. Maybe the average person does not think this way, but in dreams we may have had. I am not much of a writer myself, so I am greatful to those who give us something great to read and make life interesting. Thanks for sharing!!!!!!!!!
It doesn’t just happen to mystery writers. My sister Diane Chamberlain writes women’s fiction. She just had a hilarious entry in her blog on the same subject:
http://blog.dianechamberlain.com/?p=357#comments
Deb, great column. I have the same experiences whenever I go somewhere that’s not part of my daily rounds, even when something interrupts my daily routine or is different in some way. I used to think that perhaps I preferred the imaginary world instead of the real one in which I lived, that I was crazy. But then I realized that I love both worlds and can switch between them at will–never mind that I’m also nuts. Makes life interesting, doesn’t it?
Love it, Deb. As my brother, Rob, pointed out above, I write women’s fiction (usually with some suspense thrown in), but for as long as I can remember, if I approach a closed door (my laundry room, the ladies’ room at Starbucks, etc) I expect to see a dead body on the other side. Since Rob and I grew up in the same household, maybe there’s some repressed memory that’s informing our writing. . .
Debbie
You’ve done it again – given us something to think about and chuckle over and remind us that it’s okay to “think outside the box” – I love the images that jump into my head when I read the things you write –
I can relate to this – I’ve had other writers tell me things like this – they are just imagining a story with the everyday surroundings – very good posting – thank you – E
Really makes me think maybe I helped your career along when we were children. I can remember so many times you yelling I’m gonna kill you. Guess you never really got it out of your system. So , yes you are welcome !
I greatly appreciate the insight into the imagination of someone with the gift of words. There is nothing like a well written book, that captures your imagination, heart, and mind. All the emotion that can be felt from a good book, is incredible! I really liked this article!
Prissy, I think it’s the other way around: Thinking INSIDE the (pine) box.