Artificial Intelligence vs. characters coming to life by Dean Hovey

 

As most experienced authors will tell you, their characters become old friends and much of the book is nothing more than recording their conversations. Yes, this sounds a little like I should be put on a 72-hour psych hold, but it's true. I have a vision for the book, often in outline form, which provides a sequence of events in the plot. Sometimes that's formal, like a door covered with Post-it notes. making me a "plotter". Other times it's more informal and little more than ideas bouncing around inside my head, making me a "pantser". Whether plotting or flying by the seat of my pants, the character's conversations lead me in unexpected directions. When my son-in-law asked why I didn't use an artifical intelligence program to write my books, the answer was simple: artificial intelligence doesn't know how to bring the characters to life, nor does it know a plot twist to be revealed by a conversation. Nope. AI uses what it's seen. My son-in-law said it can mimic my style, if it scans a few of my books. However, AI doesn't know what it hasn't seen. For instance, in "A Bourbon To Die For" my lead character perceives that a lot of the towns secrets are revealed to a lowly cemetery caretaker who everyone ignores because they think he's a stupid drunk. By treating the caretaker like an accepted member of the community, my protagonist is invited to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. He meets a few of the other colorful town characters, but learns little from their meeting chatter. HOWEVER, they go out for coffee and within the kidding and laughter, they key to solving the murder of a local businessman is revealed. It's not an "AHA!" moment. There's a passing comment from a bus driver about seeing the victim's car turning into the site of the murder, as it does most afternoons when the schoolbus driver is passing that location. To be honest, the bus driver doesn't realize he's just revealed a key bit of information. Nor did I understand the value of that tidbit until later in the book. I sincerely doubt the Aritifical Intelligence program would walk through the series of events, and create the group interaction among the AA members which led to that one nugget. I told my son-in-law that story and he mulled it, then explained how I would have to teach the AI program that series of events, provide the backstories of the AA members, and the outcome of their discussion. He nodded emphatically. I said, "If I'm going to do that, why don't I just write the book?" I have a weekly lunch date with a group of friends who became the AA group. I can't imagine how ChatGPT could accumulate the background I've experienced over five or six years of lunch banter, then distill it down into a few pages buried among 320 other pages. Maybe their people can put a microphone in every corner of every North American cafe, then build a hundred data centers to filter, sort, and arrange the conversations to fit a plot. Or, maybe I'll just tap into my experience and use modified versions of what I've heard and learned over several decades. My buddy Gene (a retired bus driver) thought the AA scenes were darned good. He told me he's interviewing people to play him when the book is made into a movie. Check out "A Bourbon to Die For" on the BWL website, or at your local bookstore or on Amazon.Trust me, there's no AI involved, it's all original. https://www.bookswelove.com/shop/p/a-bourbon-to-die-for?rq=dean%20hovey https://www.amazon.com/Bourbon-Die-Doug-Fletcher/dp/0228635764

Interesting Cornish Superstitions, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

A young adult haunted house story set in Nahant, Mass. Five stars from Long and Short Reviews! They were thrilled by the novella.

To purchase, click HERE Barnes and Noble, or for Amazon

I wrote many novels set in eighteenth century Cornwall and became fascinated with its myths. Two of them, Escape the Revolution and Hostage to the Revolution, were set on the wild northern coast. Cornwall covers the western region of England where tin mining was often the main occupation of the people. Many superstitions arose from this grueling work. 

Miners believed in gnomes called Knockers. They believed any strange noises in the mines were caused by the knockers, who warned of dangers to come, such as cave-ins. The knockers also caused mischief. The miners would leave them bits of their food to placate them.

The Cornish also believed in Piskies (Pixies). To avoid being tricked by the Piskies, they'd wear their clothes inside out to fool them. I'm not sure how that worked.

A scary belief was a Spriggan. They were small and ugly and they guarded treasure. If you angered one, they might kidnap your child and leave you a 'changeling'. This elf or troll might look like your child, but its demeanor would soon become strange.

Fishing was another important occupation in Cornwall. Fishermen would never count their catch. They'd chant over it first to keep the bad spirits at bay. You also could not mention the word 'rabbit' or 'minister', or whistle when onboard your boat, or it would cause you bad luck.

Giants are also part of Cornish myths. The children's story, Jack the Giant Killer is set in Cornwall. Might there be magic beans?

When my husband and I visited there the people were kind and open. And we didn't see one giant or gnome. They must have been hiding.

To find out more about me and my books.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with one naughty dachshund.

Cupcakes and popcorn...by Sheila Claydon

 

Find my books here

In some of my books a child is one of the main characters. This is very much the case in Empty Hearts and I guess this happens because my life is very frequently taken over by grandchildren - never more than right now.

I am the non-sporty, non-competitive member of a very sporty and competitive family. Well I was until now. One week ago my 12 year old granddaughter, who lives in Singapore, came to stay for five weeks. We talk a lot over Zoom plus she has visited many times before, so she always settles in straight away and starts to tell me about her life, friends and latest interests. This time it is football. Nothing wrong with that. I know that nowadays girls play it almost as much as boys and that most primary schools have all girl teams as well as mixed teams, so I listened with interest tinged with just a little trepidation because I knew a great many countries were participating in the World Cup.

I hadn't taken much notice until now, leaving my husband to watch matches on the TV while I got on with my own life. Once my granddaughter arrived, however, that was all over! Within days I had learned the names of all the English players, what had happened at previous world cups, who was the best goalie, the best goal scorer, the best manager...even the best looking!

The next thing I learned was that because the 2026 World Cup was being hosted by America, Canada and Mexico, watching matches across different timelines meant some didn't start until 10 pm in the UK. This meant late nights (and fortunately late follow on mornings) as a keen, football playing 12 year old couldn't possibly be expected to go to bed when there was a match to watch, especially any match involving England.

Then I discovered another thing. Watching a World Cup match involves snacks. Apparently it is impossible to watch a match without popcorn and, more seriously, football themed cup-cakes. Making the cup-cakes, 2 separate batches as there were a lot of matches to watch, kept the 12 year old occupied between matches, and she did a good job. They were decorated variously with coloured icing depicting country flags, the numbers of individual players shirts, footballs and other somewhat indecipherable squiggles and stripes. Tasted good too.

Then an iPad had to be present at all times so that in the hydration breaks and half-time etc. she could text her friends to discuss, as they were all watching. Singapore is hot and humid all year. It is also a somewhere that families often live for a couple of years before moving on as jobs dictate. This means that many of her friends also have family elsewhere who they visit in the summer break, so there were texts coming in from France, other parts of the UK, Colombia, Thailand, Spain. I lost count. All I know is that across the world 12 year old children, boys and girls, were staying up late to watch the matches, some in even worse time frames than the UK. 

So now I am a seasoned football watcher who was as disappointed as the rest of my family when England were knocked out in the semi-final by Argentina. I've also eaten too much cake! Whether my newly aroused enthusiasm, now backed by at least a little knowledge, will last, I don't know. Only time will tell. In the meantime we will be able to revert to a normal bedtime.

IT BROKE THE FALL by Bonny Beswick

 

 

 

Coming soon!

 

 

 

While fireworks fill the sky on the last night of The Greatest Show on Earth, also known as The Calgary Stampede, a man with a past is shot on his front doorstep. Detectives Janice Maidstone and Scott Amble are called to the quiet suburban neighbourhood. Love has many forms, but which one led to an innocent man’s death?

As far as police work goes, Janice can’t imagine working with a better partner than Scott. The problem is, it’s a race against time, as one or both of them may soon follow their hearts and seek new lives outside of the city.

***

 

 

Available!

 

 The Aquamarine Necklace: A Janice Maidstone Mystery, by Bonny Beswick — Books We Love Publishing Inc.

I’ve spent the last few months editing and revising a couple of manuscripts. One was “What Love Made Us Do”, which will be out on shelves in the near future. The other two are women’s fiction (leaning towards historical romance) that I will be self publishing later this summer. But weeks of editing has sapped my creative energy! As in the past, I have turned to developing some short fiction to cleanse my soul of Oxford comma corrections, finding misplaced modifiers, repairing split infinitives and fixing too much tell, not show.

Most of my short stories fall outside my normal genre of police procedural murder mysteries and historical romance. The one I’m dropping into this month’s blog ventures someplace I rarely go – humour.

I hope you enjoy it.

IT BROKE THE FALL

One long ear swivelled to keep an eye on me. Otherwise, old Clem stood still as a fencepost.

Dad called over from his favourite bench by the barn door. “Keep yer teeth together.”

Why would he say that? At breakfast, he said Clem was over his bucking days. He said Clem had seen the error of his ways.

A few months ago, we’d bought a couple of mules from an outfitter that was going out of business. One was Clem. The other was almost identical except for a tiny white spot on the back of his right ear.

Clem and Pickens were gentle creatures, bomb proof when carrying a pack, the outfitter said, but they’d never been broke to ride. Shouldn’t be a problem, though, he promised.

Well, first off, Clem took exception to that promise and a saddle brought out the worst in him. He invented a whole new style of bucking, until  like Dad said, he finally settled down.

So, this fine morning, after mucking out fourteen horse stalls and scraping the manure into a pile in the corner of the pasture, I figured I’d go for a ride and check the new heifers down the valley.

The ride would do Clem good, I thought, so I saddled him up in the barn, where it was cool and dark, out of the bright morning sun. His big ears twitched when I snugged up the cinch, and I thought maybe the flies were bothering him.

He followed me fine out of the barn and it took me awhile for my eyes to get used to the sun beating down on us. I was still squinting when I put my foot in the stirrup. Just as I swung my leg over his back, grey matter in my noggin registered that his right ear had a spot of white on it that wasn’t there yesterday. At the same time, my ass connected with the saddle, Clem, who wasn’t really Clem, but Perkins, the  mule that wasn’t broke to ride, ducked his head between his knees and exploded.

I hadn’t clenched my teeth like Dad had told me to, so on the first jump, my jaws clashed together so hard I figured I’d be seeing my dentist real soon.

Pickens must have taken bucking lessons from Clem because he was good. Not just crow hopping, but launching straight up, snapping back with a hard right turn, and settling into a run no mule should be able to do. They’re just not that fast.

He had the bit in his teeth; I’d lost one rein. This wasn’t going to end well ‘cause, if I’m honest, I’m not that good a rider.

Then he stopped. No fancy sliding stop. Just planted his feet, and I swear, put his head down to make sure nothing was in the way when I sailed by.

Maybe Pickens was making a point that he didn’t appreciate getting turned into a saddle horse. But in his heart, he was a good mule; they always take care of their person. Where did he plant his feet? Right in front of the still steaming, soft pile of manure and straw that came out of the stalls.

When I finally cleaned off my face enough to look up and not see stars, he had his nose almost touching mine, as if to say, Well, at least it broke the fall.

Decades by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthors #MFRWAuthors

 

Today has allowed me to finish nine decades of living here.  Have enjoyed and not-enjoyed much but overall, it's been great.

Decade 1 1936 to 1946 - Busy time for me growing up, learning how to read and write. Also during this time, I learned how to tell stories as evenings found the neighborhood children gathering on the porch and steps of several houses. We told ghost stories. Also learned Morse code and messaged a friend at night from my porch roof to hers until the neighborhood watch stopped us. This was during WW 2.

Decade 2 1946 - 1956 - The time of learning, Became a nurse and started writing. Moved around a bit with my husband to Ohio, Oklahoma and Texas and back to Pittsburgh. Started a family during these years. Four children. Three by birth, One by adoption.

Decade 3 1956 - 1966 = Moving around a bit . Settled in Nyack a town when i first came to visit a friend knew this was where I must live.

Dcade 4- 1966 - 1976 = Wrote my first novels and went on to pen many more. Children growing up.

Decade 5 1976 - 1986 Mainly writing and joined a group of local writers who became my friends. Group has changed over the years but some have been with us for a long time.

Decade 6 1987 -1997 - A lot of writing and meetings with other writers here or at conferences around the country. Florida, Virginia, California, Chicago among other places

Decade 7 1997 - 2007 - much writing done Children moving and changing their lives.

Decade 8 2007 - 2017 - Mainly writing man making friends with other writers.

Decade 9 2017 - 2026 - Much the same with writing and being with family and friends.