The Magic of Unscheduled Events

August 25, 2018 by 3 Comments

Summer is coming to an end. A woman ahead of me in the checkout lane was buying a young girl crayons and other school supplies at the drugstore the other day. Labor Day is almost here, when people will be hitting the road for the last big trip of the summer. There is a sense of urgency in the air to take advantage of the time left while it is still available.

 Nevertheless, I can’t help but think about times I have encountered memorable discoveries on my own road trips. They were usually unplanned, unexpected. A restaurant a few miles off the interstate traveling through the Midwest turned out to be a gathering place for local farmers and had the best sticky buns I’ve ever eaten. A barbecue place in Texas we gratefully dined at when a breakdown forced us off the road offered terrific meat, slow-cooked and smoked Texas style.

Not all of my memories are about food. A small town with about twenty-seven residents once became a surprise step back into history for me as the old west buildings quietly disclosed hints of a bygone era. A sudden snow storm resulted in an unplanned stay atop a Hopi mesa. Magical moments. Treasured ‘mages from the road. These things can’t be planned, they’re discovered. But, you can be open to their occurrence and take time to appreciate them when they appear. I’m not sure they’re as likely to happen when you have a schedule packed with all the places and activities you intend to encounter.

When I started making cross-country runs by motorcycle, I sometimes waited until the day of departure to choose the route. Actually, I was watching the weather and letting that determine the best way to go. Similarly, I had only a general idea of where I might end up at night. Again, the weather would be a factor, along with traffic conditions and my own energy or fatigue. Rather than uncertainty, it yielded a sense of adventure and a need to explore, and appreciate, what came along. I loved it.

I think life if a little like that as well. It’s good to have a plan, but often the things most remembered, and sometimes the big determinants, occur unexpectedly along the way. And, when I think about writing, the fun aspect is discovering the story as it unfolds. You may work from an outline, but there may well be twists and turns and new thoughts as the writing proceeds. To me, it seems like an adventure. I think the end story is probably better when if it is allowed to evolve and grow a bit.

I can’t imagine my series protagonist, Bobby Navarro, pre-planning the details of one of his road trips or adventures. It would be useless if he did, given the tendency for murder to interrupt his travels and take over his attention. But, that’s who he is. He wouldn’t be Bobby Navarro if he said he couldn’t take time to solve a murder calling for his attention. 

What about you? How do you like to travel best, and are your fondest memories of things planned or do they include the magic of unscheduled events?

Driving Down a Country Road

 

 

Filed Under: blog posts, Books, Country Living, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

County Fair Time

August 11, 2018 by 1 Comment

This past weekend brought the county fair to our neighborhood. Local farmers started bringing in livestock several days in advance of the opening, along with numerous food vendors. The carnival company trucked its equipment in late at night just before opening day. Watching the traffic build on the street that runs past our house was like a preview of things to come, with an increasing tempo leading up to fair day and the sudden appearance of fairgoers taking advantage of the seasonal highlight. Of course, the big question as opening day approached, was what the weather would be like. This year, it was hot and humid, but not rainy for most of the fair, although we’ve had almost nothing but rain since.

Because we live close to the fairground, we were able to sit on our deck and look down the stream to enjoy the fireworks display the first night of the fair. As always, it was an impressive display. Of course, we also had to pay our visit to the fair itself and walk around the grounds looking at the animals, exhibits, and crowds. It’s an annual must-do for us. This year we were strict in watching our diets and gave up the fair food indulgences in favor of our own cooking. That wasn’t easy. County fairs mean cotton candy, barbecue, and fried dough, and much more. But we were good. Since we’ve been enjoying fresh vegetables from our garden and our local Amish stand so much, it was not all that big of a sacrifice. Holding off on indulging in the ice cream available down the street in the other direction has presented a bigger challenge. I love ice cream. County fairs bring up childhood memories for both Lesley and me. They’re one of the joys of summer.

Our frequent drives through the hills around the area have provided another pleasure, watching the seasonal tableau change. The corn is now high, with brown spikes adorning their tops, a declaration of maturity. Rows of rolled up hay line cut fields, most of them wrapped in plastic to protect against weather. In the untilled areas, several ‘crops’ of wildflowers have bloomed. Splashes of goldenrod and roadside boarder strips of white topped Queen Ann’s lace have replaced views of meadows filled with dandelions earlier in the year. Brown spikes of curly dock provide occasional accents, along with a stalk of mullein here and there. Soon, fields will be muted in dusky shades of late summer, and grasses will turn brown. Right now, everything is still green, from all the rain we’ve been getting although tree leaves are a couple of shades lighter. We feel lucky not to be dealing with the wildfires of the west.

When I first came east, the lush green everywhere overwhelmed me. I felt claustrophobic. Now, I see it as a seasonal state. I’ve also become more aware of the many subtle changes in the landscape as the seasons progress and love to observe them. I think living in the countryside has made that possible. The fields, forest plots and farms offer a much richer and closer connection to the environment. It’s an advantage of village life and country living I treasure.

Now, I must push through the final stages of publication of my latest Bobby Navarro mystery so I can get to work on the next adventure, and the next setting. I’ve gotten behind. I’ll blame it on the weather. Of course, there’s always work to be done on the cottage. That’s been held up by the weather as well. Not complaining, mind you. I love summer. How about you? What does summer mean in your life? What changes in the seasons do you watch for, and enjoy?

 

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Country Living, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

Village Life and Country Living

July 27, 2018 by 2 Comments

I like to write about village life. It’s not only because we live at the edge of a village in upstate New York surrounded by farming country, but also because village life is so interesting. Of course, villages and small towns are settings for cozy murder mysteries, and I write murder mysteries. However, this weekend, I’m writing about village life because of the interaction we have enjoyed with our neighbors. Yesterday, we had an appointment in town (a nearby small city) and decided to swing by our favorite farm produce stand on the way home. It’s run by an Amish family and features fabulous organic vegetables. We bought a pattypan squash, a large tomato, and some pole beans. The young woman tending the stand asked me if the pattypan were for sandwiches. She was the one who introduced me to using pattypan squash in this way. I admitted to having become hooked on these sandwich treats and, as we talked, another customer behind me started asking questions about how I make them. Another convert in the making? That would be my bet, if he tries them.

I’m not saying this sort of interaction wouldn’t happen at one of the supermarkets in a city, or anywhere else, but it seems more characteristic of life here in the village. Like, the other day when one of our neighbors dropped by with a container of fresh blackberries from her garden. I later made a blackberry buckle with them. Delicious. She knows I love blackberries, and we look forward to her company at tea time (an afternoon must at our place). Last summer we were kept in raspberries and blackberries all season by this same neighbor. In return, we sent her home with bundles of fresh kale leaves and bowls of cherry tomatoes from our garden. In fact, I think we should plant an extra row of kale next year with these exchanges in mind.

Last weekend we went to a backyard picnic for a neighbor pushing her nineties. The weather had been brutal, but that day was terrific. We sat outside and feasted on hamburgers, hotdogs, and dishes everyone had brought to pass. It was a good chance to see neighbors we haven’t talked with more than a passing hello all summer. There were also people we didn’t know. We were introduced as “the authors”. I don’t know if anyone there had read my Bobby Navarro novels, but didn’t feel any need to slip into sales mode either.

The other means of village identity we seem to own is that we live in the “old _______ house”. The house has been in existence since 1874, so I can hardly object to its having a more established identity in the community than we do. I remember meeting and talking with the former owner whose family name still defines the house when we first moved in. He shared some childhood memories of a flood when their barn was washed downstream during the night. I enjoyed his visit.

Not everyone in the village likes everyone else. We don’t all share the same religious beliefs, or political orientation. We’re not necessarily dedicated to the same values and beliefs. But, we’re neighbors in the village, and that counts for something. I like that. I think these are times when we need more of that village spirit. We don’t all need to be alike, but we do need to recognize that, one way or another, we’re people of the same village.

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Country Living, Village Life

Overcoming Overload

July 15, 2018 by Leave a Comment

I used to follow six news sources morning and night and sometimes seek out more. Guess what? That got to be overload. It wasn’t just that I was reading, or viewing, the same focal issues repeatedly. It was that I was being jolted by the same atrocities and crises over and over. The reasons I followed these multiple sources was to check their consistency and seek out more information, but there seemed little I could do with it. I wasn’t a journalist or national decision-maker, just a concerned citizen feeling a need to stay informed. I wanted to touch bases with others, but soon every conversation was either a minefield of socio-political difference, or an exhausting reiteration of similar concerns. I lost balance.

Now, conversations seem to bring out things in addition to the latest political catastrophe or unbelievable event. I wouldn’t call it a return to normalcy, but I suspect there has been a collective attempt to regain normalcy to the extent and in those areas of life where it might be attainable. Now, I sometimes skip one or two news reports in favor of sitting on the back deck and enjoying the evening, or morning. I look at the local wildlife. We have a young cotton tail bunny in our yard we have enjoyed watching since early spring. The birds have built nests, produced offspring and become busy teaching them to forage and survive. Now, they provide an evening concert from their various secure places in the massive tree limbs overhead. The creek is quite low, but beautiful in its burbling meander at the edge of our back yard. Tiger lilies and hostas are the current attraction for butterflies, and fireflies punctuate the night, albeit with smaller flashes than I remember, this year.

The national, and international, social scenes are still chaotic and uncertain. But, that uncertainty provides a needed base for hope as well as angst. The earth still turns, the seasons move along, and there is a majesty in the progression of natural events that surround us. There is a beauty and joy in the quick glimpse of that young bunny running across the expanse of clover underfoot. There is a sense of a functional community in the chorus of birdsongs. And, a mug of coffee just tastes better outdoors than in front of the evening news. The editing phase of my latest Bobby Navarro mystery is nearly complete, and I’m anxious to bring this story to publication. Like the outdoors, Bobby offers a sense of hope and decency, not just diversion. Although, I think a good murder mystery provides plenty of diversion. How about you? Has this been a time in which you’ve had to struggle for your sanity and well-being? What helps, or has helped, you maintain your balance?

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Outdoor living, Reading, Village Life, writing

When Things Heat Up

July 1, 2018 by 1 Comment

 

Well, it’s officially summer, but I  convinced by the temperatures in the nineties. As usual, when I ask around, people don’t remember temperatures like this in upstate New York. I suspect people all over are saying much the same thing. I do remember driving my motorcycle through Tennessee one time when it was ninety-nine with ninety-nine percent humidity. That was brutal. I also remember taking my oldest son across the Mohave desert into California in the cooler hours of the night on another motorcycle trip because it had been one-hundred twenty-three degrees that day in Arizona. In spite of traveling at night, exposed parts of my hands ended up with a “sunburn” from heat radiating up from the highway. Temperatures in the nineties? That shouldn’t keep me from working outside on the house, should it? Or, should it?

Turns out, there may be hope for my gaining wisdom in my old age. I stayed inside and did some editing on my latest manuscript. Smart move, I think. The Amish in our area are still working their fields in this kind of weather. Glad they are. The vegetables they sell in their local produce stand are fantastic. To be fair,  most of them are younger than I am. Makes a difference. I know I wouldn’t want to ride through that brutal Tennessee heat and humidity on a motorcycle now either. And, that scorcher in Arizona? Forget it. I’ll let my protagonist, Bobby Navarro, take those rides, and I’ll accompany him through memories rather than recent “research”.  Although, I do recall that several days of my last cross-country trip on the bike hovered around one-hundred-twelve degrees. The thing is, once you’re on the road you have to ride. Trouble is, weather has become even less predictable than it was then. And more brutal.

Growing up in northern California, summer heatwaves invited trips to a local stream where we swam in the beaver ponds. The water was always cold and refreshing. And, when my children were young it was trips to the Connecticut shore that seemed a must-do thing. How do you handle those periods of high heat when it seems too daunting to go outside? I’m thinking a good book and hammock strung up in the shade sounds appealing to me. What’s your approach?

Filed Under: Back to basics, Books, Camping, Outdoor living, Reading, Village Life, writing

Writers and Weather

June 1, 2018 by 2 Comments

Weather is such a variable factor here in upstate New York. People joke about it. Many complain when it changes, bringing a threat of thunderstorms or whatever. Oddly, its one of the things I enjoy here. Not always, but overall. I had to run an errand in a town about twenty miles from where we live, so I took the Mustang and drove with the top down. Gorgeous drive. Farmers are plowing for corn, creating a checkerboard pattern of different colors and shades across the hills and valleys. Trees have leafed-out with lights shades of green contrasting with the darker stands of conifers here and there. Wildflowers are blooming. Yellow buttercups and lavender flowers looking like small pansies are clumped along fencerows and roadsides. Overhead, the sky was blue with white puffs of cloud providing dramatic accents. Horses grazed knee-high in grass and wildflowers, and herds of Holsteins occupied themselves with the rich spring grazing. Some farmers had already taken a cut of hay, and the big circular bales dotted freshly mowed fields. After the drive, we sat on the deck overlooking our own backyard and trout stream. What could be better?

Next morning brought complete change. The temperature was still warm, but not pleasant. Humidity was up, and the sky was heavily overcast and threatening. It remained that way all day. We’re still waiting for the rain, which we can use at this point. I need to water the plants in our vegetable garden. I don’t want them to wilt. And, instead of feeling uplifted by glorious spring weather, there has been a sense of impending problem or crisis of some sort. Easy to become anxious and turn one’s thoughts to all the things that could go wrong. Weather changes can do that to a person.

I’ve experienced a lot of adverse weather on the numerous motorcycle trips I’ve made across country. When you’re on the open road, you are exposed. No way around it. Sometimes, there is little you can do about it except try to survive the ride and whatever it brings. I’ve tried to bring that aspect of riding to my stories of Bobby Navarro. It’s part of riding a motorcycle, especially when you take the long ride. Later, it makes for an adventure you relate to others. At the time, endure the ride as best you can. But capturing the weather seems important to telling the story the way it should be told.

Weather can be a handy tool for a writer. Bringing in the weather can help set the mood for a story (aside from the clichéd It was a dark and stormy night). Shifting the weather from pleasant to threatening can help build tension and suspense. It can even dramatize the personality of a character. Think about a character walking down a seaside path, enjoying the sun, or not running from a sudden shower. Weather can also be used to convey a character’s emotions, something I find challenging. Like a lot of men, I learned more growing up about holding back emotions than I did about acknowledging and describing them. A timely comment about the weather helps me convey something about Bobby Navarro and what he’s feeling and experiencing.

What are your thoughts about weather? Do you enjoy an occasional storm, or cloudy/misty day? I’m going to assume everyone likes a sunny day, especially with a bunny in the grass.

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Motorcycles, Outdoor living, Village Life, writing

Campfire Reflections

May 19, 2018 by 2 Comments

I’m writing this blog in advance of a camping trip I’m taking with two of my sons. I’ve really looked forward to this. When I was five-to-nine years old my dad took the family camping in the redwoods north of San Francisco where he spent time with relatives as a child himself. We drove an old Plymouth and pulled a trailer for all the camping gear. Of course, the drive was long, and I remember my parents once getting into an argument over something, probably whether we should be taking the trip at all. Dad liked to go because it gave him an opportunity to go deer hunting. Mom thought it only gave her a chance to do her regular housework without benefit of modern appliances.

I doubt that I enjoyed the trip itself, because it required hours of riding in the back seat with my sister. But I did love the camping. We stayed in an army surplus cabin-style, canvas tent. Once we set it up on top of a nest of yellow jackets, or wasps. One or two of them made their way up my pantleg. We had to move the tent, and I had to suffer the effect of their painful stings. We slept on the ground beneath heavy covers, and I still remember the exotic smell of the tent. Mom didn’t think it was so exotic. I don’t know what my sister thought about it.

In the mornings, my sister and I usually ate cornflakes covered in canned milk and served in a tin plate. I didn’t like the taste of the milk that way, and the plate made the meal somewhat tippy, but it was better than breakfasts of eggs and bacon. At that time, I didn’t like either eggs or bacon and it seemed to take hours of chewing before I managed to swallow the last required mouthful.

So, why did I love camping? It seemed almost magical. There was a fallen redwood tree nearby that provided a mammoth bridge to anywhere my imagination could conjure. Mom carved a tiny “truck” from a small branch, and I spent hours “driving” it along the mountain roads I formed along the rise of soft dirt at the bole of the fallen tree. And that tent smell! It reminded me of the gear my returning uncles from WWII brought with them to our home. Add to that the sounds of the sputtering of our Coleman lantern, the hiss of our gas camping stove, and the soughing of the wind in the branches far above us, and most of all, the voluminous quiet engulfing the entire campsite, and it was indeed magical.

After we moved to our farm in the foothills, I did very little camping until I was an adult living in Los Angeles. As a child in the hills, I pretty much lived outdoors. As an adult in the Los Angeles area I felt stifled by houses, traffic, and endless streets and highways. I needed to connect with something that seemed real and not man-made. Camping provided a means toward that end. Bobby Navarro, my series protagonist, feels this way too. Motorcycles and camping provide him with needed connections to his sense of the way life should be.

Although it might be different if I had to do it, cooking over a campfire or camp stove adds to the enjoyment of camping for me—as for Bobby. He honed his culinary skills working for a cook on a cattle ranch in New Mexico. And, while I won’t say everything I’ve prepared under primitive conditions has tasted wonderful, I’ve always maintained that another hour on the hiking trail, or another hundred miles on the back of a motorcycle will improve the taste of any campsite culinary creation.

It’s ironic, I suppose, that something always so magical would help me stay grounded in reality. Well, not any reality. The streets and highways of Los Angeles were real enough. But they didn’t give me any sense of being in touch with a world I loved, the outdoors. Compared to a birdsong or the fragrance of wood smoke, Los Angeles traffic didn’t make me feel grounded at all. Maybe that’s part of the lure of camping for me still. Looking up at the stars at night, I feel an appreciative awareness of the universe. What keeps you grounded in the things that matter most to you?

Campfire cooking

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Camping, Cooking, Outdoor living, Uncategorized, Village Life

Upstate Spring

May 4, 2018 by 1 Comment

We’re back in upstate New York enjoying the spring routine. Well, some of it is very enjoyable. Some, not so much. We were able to take credit for bringing warm weather with us up from the south, but that only lasted two days. Then we had freezing temps, ice on the pond, sleet and snow. At a lake we enjoy hiking around in the summer, the ice on the surface was sixteen inches thick. Nevertheless, I got outside and started the routine of  yard work. Getting the leaves out from under trees, plants and bushes is not my favorite job, but it felt good to be out in the fresh air.

Birds are out and active as well. We enjoy the songbirds we get up here, robins included, and love the return of the Canada geese. The trees on the hillsides are still bare, but their tops are showing hints of new leaf buds developing, and there is a reddish shading in the treetops as a result. Willows along streams in the valleys are showing chartreuse indications of new growth. On the ground, shoots are popping up everywhere and early flowers like crocus, grape hyacinth and daffodils are bringing color to the scene. All-in-all very pretty.

The last several days have been in the eighties, and I’m wondering if those first couple of days of spring weather were all we’re going to get. Eighties? Really? That’s summertime weather along with the rain and humidity. Still glad to be able to get outside between showers, though. I won’t start complaining…yet.

I know what Bobby Navarro would be doing this time of year. He would be getting his Harley ready for the road and another adventure. The seasonal changes are important to me. I enjoy the changes in the trees, the movement of wildlife, the changes in the air and temperature. I think Bobby would have to love the changes too, and not just be in a hurry to get his bike out of winter storage. Most people have a favorite season of the year, but I wonder how many enjoy all the changes, as I do. How about you? And, what are your thoughts about characters in novels showing, and reacting to, seasonal changes? Think about it, seasons and seasonal changes can be useful metaphors.

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Motorcycles, Outdoor living, Uncategorized, Village Life, writing

The Core of a Protagonist

April 6, 2018 by 2 Comments

We were talking with friends the other night, and I mentioned I was reading a Jack Reacher novel. This produced an immediate outburst regarding the movie and our friend’s opinion that Tom Cruz was all wrong for the role. He was great in Top Gun, but just wrong for Reacher.

I’ve heard this conviction before. Several times. As in the past, I suggested Jim Caviezel, who plays the role of the tall, quiet man in a suit in the Person of Interest series, for the role of Jack Reacher. Our friends immediately agreed, he would be fine. I’ve heard this before, too. The way everyone seems to agree on this matter intrigues me. It’s not that they have been saying Tom Cruz doesn’t do a good acting job, but rather that he isn’t Jack Reacher. When I press the issue, I usually hear that Cruz is not tall enough. Well, size is certainly a major part of Jack Reacher’s character, but I insist there is more. He’s a street fighter who has won most of his fights. He has fought all his life. He had to. And, as an Army MP, he’s had to stand up to a range of opponents in his military career. He has. Without concern for the outcome. It’s part of who he is. Tough. Principled. With his own code for behavior and no room for deviation or hesitation no matter the consequences. Even if the consequences alienate him from everyone and everything he has enjoyed, mainly the Army. And, it shows. It’s part of his core.

 Tom Cruz could play Top Gun, because that role called for a young, dare devilish man with a great smile and irrepressible charm. That’s not Reacher. John Reese (Jim Caviezel) in Person of Interest is tall, athletic with mature good looks, but seems isolated from everyday society. He carries a dark side born from a painful past. Caviezel brings the necessary mystique required to fulfill the part of Jack Reacher. He could achieve this requisite core of the Reacher character.

Naturally, my own thoughts after this discussion leaped to writing. Not all characters are written with a deep and essential core in mind. For me, these characters are less memorable in the same way some stories entertain for the moment and are quickly forgotten. I like those with a main character who is memorable and has depth. That’s also what I want for my own protagonist. I like it when readers find Bobby Navarro memorable, and when they do I think it has something to do with who Bobby is at his core.

Bobby is written as a biker who rides alone, he is not part of a club or gang. However, the highway, not the Harley, is at the core of who Bobby Navarro is. Bobby rides into town as an outsider. Eventually, he will leave town again—once he has fulfilled his obligation to the victim. He is at home on the road, and that is where he seems destined to remain. The highway is in his blood, and colors his soul. It is essential to his core.

What core characteristics define your favorite protagonists? And, who do you like for Jack Reacher?

 

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Motorcycles, Rural Florida, Village Life, writing

Managing Memories and Memorabilia

March 23, 2018 by Leave a Comment

A friend of ours is getting ready to move after twenty years or more in the same house. I’ve been through that process. It’s astounding how much accumulates over that length of time. It amounts to a lot of work. There are the forays for packing boxes, yard sales to set up, things to take to Goodwill, and hours to spend sorting though everything. However, from an outsider point of view, it’s like catching glimpses of someone’s life never suspected before. Memorabilia from times we’ve heard about but briefly, and otherwise didn’t share.

It also made me think about my series protagonist. I don’t see Bobby Navarro accumulating boxes, closets and rooms filled with stuff to be disposed of someday. After all, he spends his travel time on the back of his Harley. One doesn’t accumulate a lot of souvenirs riding a motorcycle. An old helmet, maybe a worn leather vest or pair of boots. Perhaps a tee-shirt with the Route 66 logo on the back. Not boxes of nearly forgotten things tucked away, out of sight for years. There must be a few things though. Something from his days in the Marine Corps? A piece of camping gear no longer used, but not discarded? An old knife? I wonder. He lives in a furnished apartment. He could probably throw all his belongings into sea bag or large duffel. It’s fun to speculate as to what he might hang onto.

The thing is, these artifacts of our existence were important to us at one point, and trigger memories about who we have been and the roads we have traveled. In that context, it’s important that our fictional heroes have a past, a collection of events and encounters that helped define them in the same way a prop room contains elements from past theatrical sets that made a former play come to life. Remnants of our past were props constructing who we were and help explain who we have become. However, as writers, we have to be careful how we bring forth the past belonging to our protagonists; a little bit can go a long way. Dredging up the old memories of our characters can easily become an unwanted data dump. It’s tricky. At the same time, a little glimpse into the past life of our protagonists can give them depth and add to the things that make them real and interesting. I wonder what memories Bobby will uncover if he ever does go through his accumulated belongings, however meager the stockpile.

Filed Under: Back to basics, blog posts, Books, Motorcycles, Reading, Village Life, writing