Hold the Advice or Live by it? By BC Deeks, Paranormal Mystery Fiction Author

 

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http://bookswelove.net/deeks-bc/

It’s taken me 64 years to learn not to teach others what it took me 64 years to learn myself. People must discover things themselves or it just doesn’t stick. That’s not to say I haven’t heard some really good advice that I wish I had known, or even listened to, over the years. For example. I wish I had known, Skip all the heartbreak and drama of teenage dating and just read a book until you’re 25 – Wish I'd had that nugget of wisdom at 15.

Ironically, now I collect advice sayings like tree ornaments and I even try to follow the sage wisdom to lead a more mindful life. Another one that I wish I had known way back is, Find your passion-Then figure out how to make money at it. I’ve known since I was twelve that I wanted to be an author, but my career took a very different direction.

I was a young woman in the ‘yuppy’ generation. We energetically threw ourselves at that glass ceiling determined to be the first to shatter it. I’ll admit I experienced some exciting adventures. In the early 1980s, I sat at a table with the CIA on one side and the KGB on the other! They didn’t speak to each other, but I spoke to both of them separately. Fascinating times. I also got lost in the warehouse district of Paris at midnight on another occasion and was rescued by a mysterious French businessman. He drove me back to my hotel and wished me fond memories of the city before disappearing again into the night. I’m not making this stuff up, but it sure does find its way into my writing.

It wasn’t easy being a single woman working in male dominated industries and traveling internationally. Computer security was an emerging field, and I was dealing with hackers, terrorists, and an emerging Dark Web. I was also rising into management, and sometimes encountered men who didn’t like a woman directing their work. Fortunately, there were also men along my journey who gave me a solid hand up. I’ll share another piece of advice I live by: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

And I did eventually get back to my dream of writing and pour all those experiences into my writing.

Maybe I should have listened to some of the advice I was given when I was younger. I wish I had believed then that I would survive the tough times and grow from my experiences. My mother’s favorite advice to me was, And this too shall pass. She was a wise woman.

Do you have advice you live by? Or wish you had listened to when you were younger?

Stick Season

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 Welcome to Stick Season here in Vermont!

What is it? It's that time when the leaves have left the trees but the snow has yet to visit.   Inexact, to be sure, like our maple sugaring season...more dependent on Mother Nature than on the calendar. 

Stick Season in Vermont is a time of transition. The days are shorter, the nights are colder. We start to nest indoors. It's time for contemplation, for walks among the downed leaves.

For me, it's a great time for cooking up plots for future novels, for trying to understand my characters and stories of books in progress, while enjoying our landscapes, transformed to an almost black and white beauty of bare limbs and grey skies letting us know that winter is on the way.

The Novel I Wish I'd Written

 

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My book club chose the classic novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier for our October meeting. This was the third time I'd read the book. I've loved it each time for slightly different reasons. 

I was in my twenties when I first read this story of a young woman who marries a wealthy older man she meets on a holiday in Monte Carlo. His late wife, Rebecca, looms larger-than-life and haunts the tale from beginning to end. Gradually the story builds to a series of plot twists. I didn't see any of them coming, yet I instantly recalled clues the author had planted along the way to make the surprises completely believable. The only author I've read who did this almost as well was Agatha Christie. Literary writers often dismiss such twists as mere plot. In Rebecca, every twist is embedded in character. If the story narrator, her husband Maxim, Rebecca, and all of the secondary characters had been different people, the story and twists wouldn't have happened exactly as they did.  

 

About twenty years later, I started writing mystery novels. Whenever the subject of favourite books came up, I'd say that I couldn't choose my favourite as a reader, but Rebecca was the novel I wished I'd written, mainly for the author's handling of surprise. Perhaps this prompted me to read Rebecca a second time. By then, I'd seen several movie versions and remembered all the twists, but I still found myself gripped by the suspense of what was to come. Fans will recall a scene where the narrator breaks a valuable figurine. As the narrator struggles to cover her action up, I was on the edge of my seat, worried for this sympathetic character.   

This third time reading Rebecca, I was mainly drawn in by du Maurier's writing. The novel struck me as a cross between two other classics written by women, Jayne Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, with mystery and suspense thrown into the mix. Rebecca features the grand passion and gothic qualities of Bronte's story, with subtle Austen-like touches of social observation and humour. All three books are about women who fall in love with men who are far superior to them in wealth and social status. I interpret each of the stories as showing how the woman becomes the man's equal. Perhaps this partly explains why these novels resonate with modern readers. 

In addition, on third reading, I realized that Rebecca contains a number of life lessons, about such things as not making assumptions about other people, assuming you know what they are thinking, and speaking out for yourself. In middle age, I read a popular book on cognitive therapy, which is commonly viewed as the most effective psychotherapy method. Everything in the book was already there in Rebecca. I wonder if this is why I easily grasped the therapy concepts and if, subconsciously, I applied them to my life after reading Rebecca when I was young. 

Our book club discussion leader also brought up some modern interpretations of Rebecca that I hadn't heard before. Maybe I'll grasp them if I read the novel a fourth time. You can dive into Rebecca forever it seems and surface with something new.   

When I reached the end of the novel last month, for the third time, I decided to go out on a limb say, Rebecca isn't only the book I wish I'd written, it's my favourite novel ever. Admittedly, I'm the only member of my book club who rated it this high. A couple of people didn't like it. Others had mixed feelings. A surprising number hadn't read the book before. Nobody predicted the twists on their first time. Rebecca is worth reading for that reason alone, and for so many more.                    

Rhododendrons symbolize Rebecca in the story

 

The Split Narrative: Like it or Hate it by Karla Stover

 

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I just finished my 4th book with a split timeline and dual sets of characters and I'm not sure how I feel about this way of writing. This most recent mystery was divided between World War 11 and the 1960s. It started with a prologue ( for some reason, the first page was number 10 ) and 35 pages in had gone back and forth six times. Getting to know the characters took some time and I often had to reread a couple of pages in order to be reoriented. There's so little time and so many books, I find this aggravating and I wondered how other readers feel. Here are two comments from a book called The Alice Network: "I enjoyed one part of the book but not the other. There are two storylines going on. I absolutely loved the story in 1915 but the story in 1947 was just OK for me." and " It's difficult to like a novel when it has different story lines going- there are always things you love about one but not so much about the other - which rings true for the one I'm reading now!" On the other hand, here's what one person said about The Dark Isle. It "moves seamlessly between two timelines spanning the intensely hot summer of 1976, and the political unrest of 1989, with the poll tax demonstrations firmly rooting us in this particular period. Likewise, the story pivots between London and Orkney within both periods of time."

Someone on netgallery.com wrote, "I'm a sucker for books with split timelines." The Perspicacious Bookworm has a list of 10 Great Books with Split Timelines and Amazon has a section labeled "Dual Timeline Novels." I find all these opinions very confusing so I asked two librarians what they thought. One liked a dual timeline and the other said they liked it only in time-travel books.

During the 1960s and 1970s I read books by both Mary Stewart and Phyllis Whitney. No split narratives but lots of different locales. Little Women had separate sections, one each for Meg, Jo and Amy. Anne of Green Gables occasionally drifted away from Anne, but Nancy Drew was only about Nancy.

According to Hank Phillippi Ryan, "In a linear book, the author must insert explanation and backstory into the manuscript’s “now” timeline. But multiple timelines let us be immersed in what could be called a “past present.” To feel the importance of events the main character did not know would matter — because when they’re happening, “later” hasn’t happened yet. A dual timeline develops the same way our own lives do. Every decision we make and every action we take is based on our history and our experiences — even though the other characters in our life story may not know that."

What Mr. Ryan doesn't say is how confusing  it can be for the reader to go back and forth and how skillful a writer has to be.

Right now I'm reading, Where the Crawdads Sing which is really sad in both timelines but doesn't have a ton of characters to keep track of. There is also a book by Tomasz Witkowski called Fads, Fakes, and Frauds: Exploding Myths in Culture, Science and Psychology which I won't read because I'm pretty good about knowing when pop psychology is trying to do a number on me. 

But no matter who we write for, a reader or ourselves, I guess a split timeline doesn't really matter.

Grampa Saves the Day - by Barbara Baker

On a gorgeous fall drive with two of our young grandkids we stop at a park to play. Fresh air. Colourful leaves. Blue Alberta sky. And a backpack full of snacks. A perfect outing.

The kids run and jump and swing through the playground. In no time at all, I have 5,000 steps and only three near heart attacks at the hanging upside down antics.

Just as I begin to video our granddaughter as she hurtles down a zip-line, our grandson, who is only three years old and too short for the ride, lets out a scream. Not just any scream - a full out anyone-within-a-mile-can-hear-him kind of scream.

I bend over in time to see him swipe a wasp off his pinky finger. Tears streak down his face as he sticks his hand in the air.

Even without reading glasses on I can see the stinger, with a blob of venom attached to it, sticking out of a small cut right above his pudgy knuckle. I pull the stinger out and lift it to my eyes. The venom sac still clings to the sharp barb. It’s kind of cool to see but another scream brings me back to my grandson’s finger.

Hugs can’t console him and people start to stare. I’m sure they think the tyke has fallen victim to some enormous travesty set upon him by me. I give the staring people a pleading look to tell them, “I’m doing my best.”

“Let’s go to the car and get a band aid,” Grampa says.  “Stick his finger in your mouth.”

I look at my grandson’s dirty hand.

“It was a wasp sting not a snake bite,” I say.

“It’ll distract him.”

I pick up the tyke and put his finger in my mouth knowing I’m doomed. No amount of hand-sani can’t save me now.

Once his finger is in my mouth, the screaming stops. When it starts up again, it’s not as loud. I suck on the finger. The scream turns into snotty sobs.

At the car, I set him on the tailgate and pour water over the sting while grampa searches for a band aid. Candles, old granola bars, blankets, masks and gloves (thanks covid) pile up beside us. Not one band aid.

Grampa digs through his emergency car repair kit. “Look what I found.” He holds up the tiniest silver hose clamp. “It’s a superhero ring for a brave little boy.”

Our grandson’s eyes go big. “Really?”

Grampa nods a very serious grampa nod. He takes the injured pinky and ever so gently, puts the hose clamp over the red mark.

All the way home our grandson holds his hand in the air.

“I got a superhero ring.” He waves it at his sister. “Because I’m brave.” 

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

Barbara Wackerle Baker (@bbaker.write)