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Listen to Any Lyrics Lately?

by Jill Amadio

Listened to any lyrics lately? I seem to be spending far more time in my car than usual and, of course, I have my CDs at the ready.

I have to admit, shamefully, that I never truly considered songwriters to be real writers. Yet, they record their daily lives, romances, disappointments, failures, joys, and happiness with succinct and clever poetry and core messages that perfectly fit the moment.

My favorite is Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and then all of his other works. I enjoy singing along with him until he slides into recalling some of his private, sexy moments for all the world to share. I quickly fast-forward.

His writing is pretty explicit even when he writes about religion, and I am sure his childhood and into adulthood included prayer and participation in services.

Which brings me back to lyricists and their skill at fitting words that we often fling about so wildly, are perfect for the composer’s work. Only Frank Sinatra did it ‘his way’ and sometimes scrambled words together and stretched them out, to my mind. I have never attempted to write a lyric, although I was forced to dabble in some corny poetry in school. It never occurred to me that songwriters, both those who write the words and those who compose the music, were so gifted and creative. Interestedly, they manage to make simple sentences sound beautiful when sung. I urge my memoir writing class students to read their prose aloud and none have ever broken into song. Maybe that’s a good thing. But I am sure that lyricists practice their sons aloud as a way to judge their effect.

It amazes me how songwriters like ABBA and “The Mommas and Poppas” manage to squeeze a lifetime of hurt and happiness into a 3-minute song. It is understandable, of course, when they are singing about one specific moment, but even that requires a skill that many regular writers lack. I wonder if they trim and edit, as we fiction and non-fiction writers do?

I have never met a lyricist, although I have several poet friends, and I watch time and again movies about composers, although the films rarely ask, to my mind, the crucial questions, such as must the lyrics rhyme? Whence comes the inspiration? Like many famous writers who are the subject of other writers’ biographies, the nitty-gritty of lyric writing and composing are often lost in the labyrinth of their concert performances.

I have read that lyricists and composers work together, but which comes first? Are the words arranged to fit the music, or vice versa? Does erasing carefully-conceived words annoy the lyricist as our editors annoy us? I remember reading that Ernest Hemingway had huge fights with his editor, Max Perkins at Scribner’s, who invariably won the battle and improved the books so magnificently into bestsellers.

I don’t recall any such fights between songwriters, but I am sure there were plenty. Perhaps they were short – like their songs, although I can’t imagine the writers of the lyrics criticizing the music unless they are composers themselves.

Perhaps we mystery writers should try to create a murder that can be described in just a few words, a one-page short story, although some songs have several stanzas. It seems that more contemporary songs are brief and to the point, except for country-western, which are often depressing and mostly seem to be about lost love.

Of course, once we’ve murdered the victim in our books and solved a sub-plot or two, finding the killer could take up an entire music album. Perhaps ancient people wrote songs although archaeologists only appear to discover crockery and texts. What would their songs sounds like?

These literary musings are a rather fun way to procrastinate although I am actually seated at my desk and using my laptop. And, I am writing!

An Interview with Author, Maureen Jennings

By Jill Amadio

It hasn’t yet run as long as Agatha Christie’s “Mousetrap” in the West End, the theater district of London, U.K., but Maureen Jennings’ Detective Murdoch television series is well on its way to a record fourteenth year for the mystery author. A “Brummie” from Birmingham in the north of England who emigrated to Canada as a 17-year-old and now lives in Toronto, she lends her British roots to one of her three series, the World War II DCI Tom Tyler cases, setting the books in the market town of Ludlow, in the Shropshires, U.K.

“I visit Ludlow annually”, she said a few days after being honored at the 2019 Left Coast Crime conference in Vancouver, British Columbia. “I love being in Ludlow. I wanted to write the Tyler series there because of the war years, which affected people so deeply.”

Her first foray into creative writing was three stage plays, all of which were produced, although she says, at very small theaters. She then turned to books.

As one of the top and most popular mystery authors in Canada, the Jennings’ Murdoch Mysteries (titled The Artful Detective in the US) was brought to the viewing public first as three Movies of the Week and then as a television series. Set in Toronto in Victorian days, ‘When people tended to be much more aware of good manners and polite behavior,’ the crime novels number eight so far, although the TV episodes number many more. A team of six writers creates the scripts, with Maureen writing one show a season and acting as creative consultant for the others.

After ensuring that the Murdoch books were pretty well established, but still writing a couple more later, Maureen launched the private investigator Christine Morris series. Although its future as a film is currently in limbo, she notes.

Another project, a drama titled ‘Bomb Girls,’ was a concept derived from a Tom Tyler mystery and has become a TV series, written by Maureen with a partner. Thus, Maureen successfully mixes stage, screen, and literature. Indeed, she is regarded as a national treasure in Canada and has won so many literary awards in North America and in other countries, that it staggers the mind. The Toronto Star newspaper named her as one of 180 people who have influenced the history of their city through her mysteries.

So who is Maureen Jennings?

Married to photographer Iden Ford, who is also her literary agent, she has a constant reminder (at her feet) of her fictional Toronto detective. A dog called Murdoch. ‘He requires a daily morning walk, and that sets me up beautifully. I come back and can get going. In the evenings, I have less energy and usually use that time to read and do research.

As regards the books, I wanted to commune with ghosts of the past in Toronto, which has largely disappeared, and [back then] it was easier to include forensics, which was not as advanced as it is now.’

All the Brits from the Golden Age were and still are her inspiration, especially Arthur Conan Doyle and John Le Carré. ‘I have always loved reading mysteries. Fell in love with Sherlock, still am. I like the notion of two-for-one, that is, you get a good story and learn something at the same time. For me, that’s typically history, which I love,’ she said.

Maureen calls getting her first book published a stroke of luck when Ruth Calvin at St Martin’s Press took a look at her manuscript at the urging of a friend, and bought it. Since then, she has mastered just about every writing discipline: books, scripts, short stories, and poetry. Yet this woman who streams so many, many words didn’t start out to be a writer. She studied psychology and philosophy at the University of Windsor and received an M.A. in English Literature at the University of Toronto.

She turned to teaching at Ryerson Polytechnic Institute, then practiced as a psychotherapist. Maureen believes that her expertise in that field has helped her create characters that are believable and their motives credible, although keeping them straight requires making careful notes. Her latest is the PI Charlotte Frayne series, starting with ‘The Heat Wave,’ which launched in March 2019 and brings the character into contact with Murdoch’s police detective son.

Her writing process involves outlining in detail. ‘That might change in small ways as the book grows, but I have found that if I don’t do that, I waste a terrible amount of time. I know some writers say they just start off, but I couldn’t imagine that. It would be like getting in the car and saying I’m going to drive somewhere now, but I don’t know where exactly. I’m not that kind of traveler. I have to have the hotel booked.’

A lover of history and a meticulous researcher, Maureen delves into primary sources, including newspapers and Coroner and Chief Constable reports, bringing her skills in particular to one of her latest mysteries, ‘A Journeyman to Grief,’ a recounting of life in the small black community in 19^th century Toronto, much of it unknown to most of the city’s present residents.

Maureen’s biggest challenge?

‘Making sure Tyler didn’t look and sound like Murdoch. As for themes, they sort of come to me unbidden as I am researching. For instance, I was recently reading about Safety in the Workplace and how late that was in being established. That immediately became the focus of my next book, which is set in 1936.’

Any advice for first-time writers?

‘Oh dear. I know how hard it can be and how easy it is to get discouraged. But I absolutely believe that passion plus preparation leads to opportunity. I love horse racing and often think of it as a metaphor. Most of the horses and jockeys are more or less of equal ability, but the ones that win do so because they seize the opportunity when the gap opens up ahead of them and they gallop through. They’re ready. They’ve done their homework.

Also, I don’t think you should ever stop studying the craft, whether it be novels or theatre or film.’

AI as a Beta-Reader?

by Jill Amadio

Many of my writer friends are “gung-ho enthusiasts” of Artificial Intelligence, or AI. They run their projects through, often chapter by chapter, to test their writing skills.

When the results come through, there is great interest in what the non-human synthetic experts have to say. While AI is a huge help, I suppose, if we need to be assured that our style and other fundamentals of our writing are up to par, does AI also diminish our confidence in our creativity?

Why do we trust an automatic machine to judge our writing rather than a person with a brain, a soul, and emotions, muddled as they may be? Why do writers believe that feelings expressed by AI have more depth and provide more compelling characters than those from human intelligence?

Certainly, we often feel a need for support when we aren’t sure we are on the right path with our plots and settings, but research can frequently send us on fascinating journeys when we use that old-fashioned tool.

Then, too, a friend might shoot down our joy by criticizing work we’ve spent weeks creating, but at least we can open a debate with said friend to challenge their viewpoint.

I read online that writers should not wait until a first draft is completed before checking it through AI. One should pass our writing chapter by chapter or paragraph by paragraph if we want our books to sell well.

However, brainstorming with AI can be a revolving door if we rely solely on it to give us feedback with which we disagree. We already have Spell Check in our Word program, and there are also grammar sites if we are unsure. Yet, do we want that advice?

I recently edited a book for a client from Liverpool, U.K., who writes in the way he speaks, a style that is occasionally ungrammatical but beautifully reflects his upbringing in a poverty-stricken family. He writes honestly and in detail about his criminal activities before reforming and brings the reader into his world in a personal, delightfully unself-conscious and un-generated-by-AI manner. His style takes us into heartfelt statements about his culture, his bitterness growing up, and how he turned his life around.

His book doesn’t flow strategically or logically. Instead, it takes us on a journey most of us could not imagine but feel compelled to follow to its happy ending. Would AI have come up with anything as mind-blowing as this man’s true story? Granted, AI is consulted mostly for its judgment of our writing, even its relevance to a central theme, but it seems to create doubt rather than determination to follow our own path.

All of which leads to the question of who is actually writing AI’s advice and training AI, and who is instructing us with strategic decisions we are told to make. Perhaps the AI originators are best-selling authors. Maybe they are paid a royalty for each bit of AI advice activated.

I read that AI can be biased and can misrepresent your writing style. It can tell you to make changes with which you disagree, but you can’t help believing that AI knows best.

Seems to me that human creativity is one of the most perfect parts of our mind, albeit for good or evil, and that if AI flags it, then we follow patterns and look twice at what we are thinking.

It also appears that AI can figure out if you are falling into the trap of writing patterns that annoy readers or structures that don’t make sense. All of which leads us to wonder if we could be accused of plagiarism if two or three writers receive the same rewriting from AI. Maybe we need to become our own amateur detectives to discover such an activity, and instead of fact-checkers, we need to become text-checkers for artificial intelligence.

I admit that AI is an excellent tool for writers who dither and are unsure of their characters, plots, and settings. It is normal to want an outside opinion, but there can be a nagging worry that AI cannot truly understand where our plot is going, or how characters can change as we write. Taking the guesswork out of our plots, sub-pots, and themes can lose us readers for future books in our series, and perhaps even prompt an admission that we used AI as an assistant to write the book in a Disclaimer or Introduction.

In conclusion, I am honestly pleased that some of my writer friends enjoy a foray into AI. I just ask them to be transparent and honest about it.

Superfluous Phrases – What Do They Mean & Why Do We Use Them?

By Jill Amadio

Often writers allow a well-known and well-worn phrase to trip off the tongue- or rather, onto the keyboard – to mark a particular moment in a story, just as we do in real life. In fact, to catch a moment in time, as in, “At this moment in time.”

What does that mean? Obviously, the first three words refer to a specific time frame, to the exact fraction of a second that is being noted. Exactly. It is a method for stating, or pointing out, that a moment is to be marked. All well and good.

So why do we also need to add the words, ‘in time?’ Surely we are already talking, or writing, to pinpoint something that requires noting as to time. We want to make it stand out, with our ‘at this moment’ that alerts the reader to note the moment. Why, then, employ the redundant ‘in time’ to add to the statement? When else would it be happening if not ‘at…this…time?’

If the ‘something’ happened earlier or later, the writer will be sure to note it, probably with a detailed following sentence or paragraph to explain the time lapse or hint at a future action.

Another hackneyed phrase that rather galls me is ‘Right now.’ This second phrase, in itself, poses another question – what do we mean by ‘right?’ The ‘now’ word is fully understood, but whence came ‘right’ in this sense? We often use ‘right’ as a confirmation in place of ‘correct,‘ to signify to the other person their words ring true, but it is rather inelegant.

Here are other common phrases I don’t catch in my stories until perhaps my second or third draft:

Open any book, skim a few pages, and you are fated to come across ‘faded jeans,’ ‘a pale face,’ ‘the rugged terrain,’ or ‘winding road.’ These are all beautifully simple descriptions (a couple from Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls) that tell the reader in easy terms what we want them to know without going into unnecessarily exotic language. Just writing a well-known phrase in the correct context can provide the reader with an instant understanding of what is meant.

One of my favorites is ‘standing pat.’ It makes no sense whatsoever on its face. Yet, it has a sense of mystery because ‘standing’ and ‘pat’ appear to have no relevance to each other, yet they belong together. And, incidentally, could provide us with the basis of a plot.

One can assume the phrase to be a description of someone named Pat. Was she standing up when the phrase was created? Was the word ‘with’ missing so that phrase may originally have been ‘standing with Pat?’ It does suggest a sense of loyalty, of being at the side of Pat. Yet, the word ‘pat’ has many meanings, as well as a person’s name, although I doubt it means ‘to pat’ as in patting a pet.

So many other phrases we use are hackneyed but perfect for the moment in time (sorry). Trying to find a substitute to avoid sounding boring can take up too much time, and even sound unnatural.

A foreign character’s use of phrases in their own language often introduces an interesting change of pace as long as there is a way to translate it, if necessary. This can easily be undertaken in conversation, while other remarks may not need any translation at all. In fact, we don’t realize that many words have become part of our own English language. Someone told me that English is based on German, while someone else swore it was based on Latin.

All that writers need to remember, I would say, is how rich and versatile English is, and how fortunate we are to be able to dive in and select whatever we choose.

I recently bought an ebook from Amazon for my Kindle Fire, selecting a mystery at random. Not until the second chapter did I notice it was set in Norway and authored by a Norwegian. Bravo!

This article was posted for Jill by Jackie Houchin

Delving Into Everyone’s Life But My Own

by Jill Amadio

Last week, I was sorely tempted to slip back into a non-fiction writing career that has sustained me when my mystery book sales faltered. I gave a proposed project a few hours thought. Then, I came to the decision that my ghostwriting years were definitely gone with the wind, as vanished as the ghost I had become.

Ghostwriting popped up in my life when I least expected, and it was certainly not sought. In fact, I was barely aware of someone writing someone else’s life story for them. It seemed the height of hubris both from the viewpoint of the writer and that of the subject. I believe I thought, when I first heard of ghostwriting, that if you couldn’t write your own story, then forget it.

However, during a particularly “dry” period when my finances were almost non-existent, I held my breath and agreed to at least investigate what was involved. I was writing a business column for Entrepreneur magazine, and one day, the editor told me that a reader called, asking if they could recommend a writer to write their business book for them

“What? Be a fake writer? And on top of that, write a whole book?” I squeaked. “No way! I hardly manage to squeeze out 3,000 words for my column. How can I write a hundred times that number? No way.”

“Jill, look at it this way. Approach each chapter as an article. Besides, it pays well.”

When the editor mentioned the sum of money I could earn, I no longer resisted. Ghostwriting, here I come!

Since then, I have ghosted 19 memoirs and enjoyed the process immensely. I met a fascinating group of clients who took me into the realms of several diverse worlds. I wrote books for a champion cowboy, a nuclear physicist, and just about everyone in between.

After I finished the business book and was telling a friend at the local TV station about it, she passed the word around. I soon received a referral that sent me to Hollywood to meet Ellie, the fourth wife of singer Rudy Vallee. She was one of those larger-than-life ladies who called everyone “Darling.” We clicked right away.

Ellie sent me to the Simi Valley Library, which had bought Rudy’s archives after he died. Five hundred boxes. I spent weeks delving through clippings, photos, contracts, reviews, personal letters, and marriage certificates. The material was rich with wonderfully intimate biographical pieces of Rudy’s rollercoaster life and career. The publisher decided that rather than following the usual process of hiding the ghostwriter, I should be named as the co-author of the book. A great and much-appreciated surprise.

During her book tour in Las Vegas, Ellie had lunch with the owner of the many taxi companies in town, who promptly contracted with me to write her own memoir. I interviewed many of the cab drivers and collected some surprising stories of famous celebrity passengers. However, the cab owner decided to only publish enough books for her immediate family and friends. Thus, those stories remain undercover.

Another memoir (each of the 19 I ghostwrote was by referral, happily) was more of a revenge publication against no fewer than a dozen attorneys for malpractice. My client owned a small business, which soon expanded into selling one of the nation’s leading entertainment devices. However, the clients had hired what she and her husband called “incompetent” lawyers. Soon, there were lawsuits initiated by my clients all over the place. The book was to name each one and detail their transgressions. I knew a little about the law and told my clients we needed to give those lawyers false names or be sued ourselves.

Some of the names we came up with included Mack E. Avelly, Mal Lingerer, Jep Ardy, Rack E. Teering, and an Ignorentia Legis (translation: ignorance of the law).

Several of the memoirs I wrote were written in the first person, from the client’s point of view. A favorite of mine was about Monterey, CA’s first policewomen in the 1950s. The lead female cop rode a Harley to patrol the streets and, occasionally seeing a fellow cop’s car outside another cop’s house whom she knew was working, discovered several love affairs taking place during her tenure.

One client hired me to write a mystery. She’d always wanted to write about a financial scam that victimized her father. It sounded boring, so I suggested we add a murder into the mix to jazz it up. She agreed wholeheartedly and asked how many murders we could include. I talked her down to two.

Some clients decide to write their memoirs after changing their lives. One of these was a model, international actress, and recently divorced mother of two who decided to leave her luxury life in New Jersey and move to California. I met her at her home, where she showed me the minivan they’d be traveling in for the cross-country trek. I was surprised that the SUV was pretty stinky compared to the shiny Rolls-Royce parked nearby. She said she wanted a completely fresh start. She got one when she met and married a California billionaire after arriving in Laguna Beach. Then she moved to Italy, where she bought a villa.

Before COVID struck and I moved back to Connecticut, I received a call from a cowboy in southern California. He had recently completed a humanitarian project: riding horseback across America from California to Florida. The mission was to raise money for an orphanage for disabled children. The book was fun to write, covering how he, the seven horses, and a one-eyed mule he needed completed the journey.

One memoir I wrote on my own was the life story of the first lady of aviation art. A British artist, Virginia Bader, ran a gallery of paintings on both coasts devoted to World War II scenes, dogfights, and heroes such as General Jimmy Doolittle, Air Vice Marshal Johnnie Johnson, and many fighter aces from both sides of the conflict. Her efforts helped establish the careers of the now top aviation artists in their field, such as Nicholas Trudgian, John Shaw, and Sam Lyons.

I wrote three other memoirs as my own client because I became fascinated with the subjects’ stories. One I was asked by the publisher to write about was Gunther Rall, the third-highest fighter ace of World War II and a General in the Luftwaffe. It was published in 2003 and continues sells worldwide.

Litters of Letters

by Jill Amadio

Were there ten fewer consonants and only three vowels in the English alphabet, here’s how two of the Bard’s indelible lines would have been written:

“Fr n mr th het f th sn…”

“Th ly’s th thg…”

Much of our English is derived from other languages, including Latin, French, Greek, Italian, German and the aliens for all we know. In fact, our precious alphabet initially descended from the Egyptian Pro-Sinaitic alphabet around 1,800 B.C. The Phoenicians took it up, followed by the Greeks, then the Romans, who brought it to the British Isles during their disgraceful occupation, only to be shunted aside by the bloodthirsty Anglo-Saxons. By the 13^th century, we are told, the “modern English alphabet had emerged from the Old English alphabet.”

Earlier, the Chinese, other Asians, and Russians had invented their own enigmatic images to represent words, adding to our confusion. The strokes used to appear to bear no relation to letters as we know them, but then the vice-versa is also true.

Some writers are rather taken by the French influence whereby we tend to add acute and grave accents over certain letters, and also by the German umlaut of two tiny dots placed over specific vowels.

My keyboard doesn’t provide any of these extra elegant little marks although to the left of my number 1 in the top row there is a funny little squiggle that resembles a drunken letter N: ~. I am sure it has great significance but the meaning escapes me sand I have never felt compelled to use it, even as an April Fool’s Day joke.

So, by the 13^th century the Normans generously presented the Brits with their very own alphabet, and many of the world’s most remarkable English writers went full-tilt into turning out their extraordinary literature.

In my Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, a 1,000-page tome, there is only a single reference to the alphabet. It is from Charles Dickens’ The Pickwick Papers. He had one of his characters, Samievel, being advised that although “there were many things you don’t understand now, but…as the charity boy said when he got to the end of the alphabet, it’s a matter of taste.“

I think Dickens was indicating that knowing the alphabet was a choice but something a poor person may not have the opportunity to learn, if, indeed, he could even read English.

That should be the end of this saga but I became fascinated with my research. It turns out that we have been cheated. There were originally 29 letters in the English alphabet although three other letters were left out entirely: J, U, and W. I also read that NATO has its own phonetic alphabet to help members pronounce English words during their lifelong luxury residence in America.

What’s so interesting now is how our words have come to mean something else entirely, such as “swatting,” “hacking,” and many others.

I wonder how these words translate into other languages, and if the message changes with the wind. Their double meanings will undoubtedly show up in dictionaries although the editors might want to wait a couple of years in case an even different and additional meaning pops up.

At least we still have our five vowels and 21 consonants with which to create characters, settings, plots, and strategies.

Deadlines, Deadlines, Dead Lines

by Jill Amadio

Whether you self-impose a deadline or your publisher sets one for you, a looming deadline (pardon the cliché) for writers can send terror racing through our veins, to say nothing of a scramble for inspiration for that perfect ending to our story.

Time as a concept rules our lives but little comes as close to engendering fright as an editor’s reminder, if any, that you have three days to send in your manuscript.

Idioms that refer to time are many but the word ‘deadline’ has few competitors for sheer panic, leading to writer’s block. Mine was so pronounced a couple of years ago that instead of diligently finishing editing my mystery prior to submission, I took off for a lecture on The Hidden Infrastructure of Waterways.

The deadline effect can strike as early as signing a publisher’s contract to write a book, with the due date blithely ignored in order not to spoil the moment.

If we separate the word into ‘dead’ and ‘line’ we can carry on without another thought. ‘Dead’ is, of course, a wonderful word for crime writers. It finds its way into titles, sub-titles, true crime, novels, and non-fiction. It is often overworked, but there are some great substitutes that have a satisfying, final ring to them. Even time itself cannot escape its fatal meaning when we talk of ‘killing time.’ As for ‘line,’ it can refer to the last line of your book or, my favorite, The End.

I remember talking to Michael Connolly at the Los Angeles Festival of Books one year when we were suddenly interrupted. I assumed he was urged away by one of his publisher’s staff for more book signings with the threat of ‘we have a deadline before the store closes..’

Escaping one’s deadline can become quite a game. We can close the document and play online Solitaire; dig into more research; meet a friend for coffee; walk the dog, or read someone else’s book and envy the author who made their deadline and is subsequently well-published and a much-in-demand panelist at writers conferences.

It is easy for creative people to bristle at a deadline but without one, would we ever finish a book? Many deadlines hang over our heads such as filing taxes by April 15, but it doesn’t seem to make us feel pressured as we fall into line without protest or ask for a delay.

Self-published writers, of course, have the luxury of ignoring any deadline they may initially give themselves, but adhering to a disciplined writing life points to a professional approach to one’s career.

Often, we use the word ‘deadline’ as an excuse to avoid doing something, seeing someone, or simply to justify lazing around claiming we are mentally sorting out a plot, a character trait, or a setting.

Throwing out the word has its own resonance. We sound important. It surrounds writers with an aura of being special when uttering it, often with a fake facial expression begging sympathy.

I wonder if a deadline has the same time limit if it were to fit into a short or a long day, month, or year. Does the deadline contract or expand with these descriptions depending on our individual sense of time? When push comes to shove, do we tend to interpret a deadline one way while its dreaded imposer means it in an entirely different context?

As a reporter, I was always under deadline, which I credit for bringing me to heel and making it easy to comply with my traditional publishers’ edict. But once released from their tyranny, plunging into self-publishing, and receiving monthly royalties I discovered how simple it was to let the world go by with no deadlines to obey.

Roget’s Thesaurus has zillions of ways to describe a deadline, not the least of which include crunch time, point of no return, and my favorite, kairotic. What? Oh, that means time-sensitive.

I once read that a character ‘insisted on killing time before his deadline.’ Is that an oxymoron?

Finally, there is an upside to a deadline: it can get writers into the chair and tapping the keyboard. Perhaps my colleagues on this blog have a secret way to beat a deadline. Care to share?

Christmas in Bangkok & Hong Kong

by Jill Amadio

I looked forward to spending Christmas in Bangkok, Thailand. We’d moved there four months earlier when my husband was posted to Saigon, and I landed a job as a reporter for the Bangkok Post.

Writing about an Asian Christmas energized me, and I eagerly looked around the local shopping districts for gifts, decorations, and seasonal goodies for the kitchen. Writing features and pointing out the differences between our holiday in England and America and our current home seemed like endless discovery.

Alas, none of these visions came to a realization. Thailand, like most other Southeast Asian countries, does not celebrate Christmas because it is Buddhist. With three children expecting to wake up early on The Big Day and rush downstairs to open their gifts, what to do?

Ah! Got it! We’d spend the holiday in Hong Kong, just an hour’s flight away. At the time, the colony was highly attuned to British customs, and the big hotels, I was assured, displayed a splendid farang (foreign) Christmas that would enthrall any Westerner. In addition to enjoying the holiday, I planned to interview hotel guests, locals, market stall owners, and tourists. Among the latter I encountered, were Swiss, German, Swedish, and Australians.

I’d visited Hong Kong several times due to assignments and visited the island of Macau to cover auto racing. There were always a plethora of stories worth reporting for the newspaper in Bangkok but I was eager to experience how stupendous this Christmas adventure would surely prove to be.

My husband and I decided it would be silly to take wrapped gifts with us, so we planned to take the kids shopping to choose their own. My editor agreed that I would write about the trip, sending in daily reports and photos taken with my Polaroid camera before we skipped New Year’s Eve and returned to Bangkok. As our last day drew near and we were anxious to return home, we booked an earlier flight.

Big mistake.

It turned out that December 31 was always a massive celebration for both Brits and Chinese, a richness of reporting I decided to cover, even though I had plenty of stories of our own excursions in Hong Kong. Besides, who wanted to miss the turn of a century in this historic city at the southern tip of China?

Our children had never been in a toy store because two were born in Spain, where Christmas was essentially a religious holiday. Our third child was born in the U.S. during a quick turnaround trip to New York and back to Thailand to ensure her American citizenship by being born in the States. My son was already pledged to fight, at 18, in any war that Spain became involved in because he was born in Madrid, but his second sister was registered as American, as by then, I had received my own U.S. citizenship.

Our shopping trip was a great success with many changes of mind as we, as parents, pointed out the mounting cost of their decisions. Finally, having selected their toys and new clothes, and I had talked to several shoppers from various countries, we returned to our hotel. It was my turn to choose a gift. My husband wanted to go out alone and buy me a watch. I told him I’d like a Patek Phillipe, please. Off he went but returned rather quickly.

“Are you insane?” he asked. “Do you know what those watches cost? No way. You’re going to have to settle for a Rolex.”

At the time, Hong Kong was turning out fake Rolexes by the thousands. Most had wristbands that looked like gold but were, in fact, made from anything but that precious metal. Aha! Another good story! In fact, the bona fide Rolex dealer pointed out our mistake when we showed him the watch we’d bought elsewhere. Never mind. The band looked authentic, and the watch itself was confirmed as the real McCoy.

The festive air in the colony extended everywhere we went through the perpetually crowded streets. I knew that more than 7 million people lived in the small British enclave, and they invaded every restaurant, bar, and all the shopping districts in sight. Antique stores added red ribbons to their vintage wares, and the buildings were ablaze with Christmas lights. Even the hotel’s small office for guest use had a small Christmas tree. Laptops didn’t exist back then, but the electric typewriters fit the bill for typing up my interviews.

After a great New Year’s Eve, the hotel manager asked if we planned to stay on for January 6, the Chinese New Year, but by then, we’d had our fill of festivities.

I returned to Bangkok with a new satchel filled with notes and an extra suitcase for the kids’ toys and outfits. In Bangkok, we had to have our clothes tailor-made as there were no ready-made stores. The upside was that a dressmaker charged $5 or $6 to create a dress, a blouse, or a skirt. I’d simply bring in the fabric, show her a Chanel photo in Vogue or another magazine, and she’d copy it.

We left Hong Kong after two glorious weeks and enough material for several follow-up feature stories in the Bangkok Post.

Now, permanently living in America, with stores brimming with seasonal cheer, I wish my dear friends and readers at The Writers in Residence a Happy Hanukah, a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

“She is going, you know, to…”

by Jill Amadio

“He fell down, you know, on that.. blah, blah blah…”

Bombarded with the words “you know” in person, on Zoom, on TV, and on the radio, I have this hollow feeling that if I do not know what I am supposed to know when someone says the phrase, what am I missing? How do we “get the drift” of what the speaker means, if we are told we already know it? What is the significance of their words if taken literally? I already know what I am being told?

In other words, how am I to know what the person talking means when it is assumed I know precisely what they mean? By slipping in those two words, often twice in a short sentence and more frequently in long ones, I am left feeling like an idiot because, like many writers, I take words not only seriously but by their true intent.

I am tempted to tell the next person who uses it out of context that, No, I do not know, or I shall ask them why they think I know what they assume I know. I shall also ask them what their intention is in telling me something they think I already know. If I already know it, why waste their time in re-telling it?

What is this innocuous but irritating manner of speaking doing to our psyche? Will our personalities change, or our memories be challenged? Will what we already need be thrown out with the bathwater? A dilemma indeed.

I have yet to read “you-know” used in any newly-published books, thank goodness, but there’s always tomorrow for the opportunity to chance upon this ultimate word-mystery.

I have not yet thrown my buttered scone at the television set as I assume, you know, that the pundit cannot hear me, but, you know, what do I know? With all this high-tech stuff circling the globe, maybe I am wrong, you know. Could I, you know, be behind the times?

Perhaps “you-know” is used to give the speaker a moment to collect their thoughts, to come up with a different statement they intended, or to end a sentence with a lilt of the voice to indicate a question.

There are, of course, plenty of ways to ask the you-know question, such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, that he murdered her?” This dialogue sits so much more easily upon a writer’s shoulder, placing the you-know bit within its proper grammatical intention (I think).

Then there’s my gracious understanding of why people use it: to give themselves a break to think up their next statement, to find their place on the teleprompter, to allow them to sound “with-it.”

Intonation, when using “you-know,” is also important, I have observed. There is rarely a tonal upswing indicating it is a question.

If “you-know” is spoken to a young child, do we expect a cogent answer? Children tend to take what we say as dogma. We do not want to saddle kids with untruths.

Can we pronounce “you-know” as y’all know, or y’know? Perhaps this slide into dialect can remove some of its insidious, unnecessary sentiment. Or maybe to give it an inflection it does not deserve. Should we replace “you-know” with a different phrase? I’ve heard people slip in a “my dear” and “indeed, but “you-know” rules the roost – at present.

I have come to regard “you-know” as a target and have to constrain myself from counting how many times it is spoken and in what context. Frankly, I cannot think of any unless “you-know” is posed in a readable sentence such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, he is…”

When used in this context, it is obvious that an answer is required, whereas thrown in higglety-pigglety, the phrase has no meaning, but at least it does not put the listener on the spot. However, who knows? I sure don’t.

The Case of The Runaway Bride

By Jill Amadio

Outraged at my character deciding to get herself murdered far too early in my mystery, I was also furious that she had the temerity to go out on her own and run off with my carefully organized plot. She wasn’t actually a bride, but she sure was a runaway. And a female.

How dare she! I had barely sorted out a new setting and spent time researching a lonely location in the UK when this forward young woman opted out of my book. Not only had she escaped from my timeline, but she was also in the wrong place.

Her impulsive decision and demise threw two other characters, one the murderer, into complete confusion. I almost felt them turning to me and saying, “Now what?”

Keeping control of one’s fictional characters is usually a given. Like chess pieces, the author can move them here and there with impunity. We can, and often do, change people and places around but the decision has to be the writer’s.

Something similar happened to me once before. In my second mystery, I knew who the killer was, and I looked forward to her denouement. However, the more I wrote her, the more I came to like her. The upshot was I had to choose a different character as the murderer and thus change his gender and personality, to say nothing of his traits and habits.

However, my runaway person really put me over a barrel with her unexpected death. Should I write her out completely? Force her to stay alive a little longer? What did her early, unplanned demise mean to the rest of the storyline, the remaining characters, and my peace of mind?

It seemed that the best thing to do was to move the chapter in which she wrote herself gone forever to the end of my Word document so that I wouldn’t have to look at that chapter until l I decided where to fit it in, given the new circumstances.

Actually, I knew exactly where and when I wanted her to meet her end, but her decision to die on her own terms threw me into disarray. To say nothing of writer’s block.

I perused my synopsis, wondering if I should wedge her in where she wanted to be, but again, it was clear that her interference meant a lot more work. I would have to rearrange people and places, maybe add a new character and perhaps an extra victim, if any of her shenanigans were to make sense.

Another thought – must I re-think my POV? In order to get her back in line, would she be satisfied with being re-written in first? Her dramatic demise certainly was a plea for help. On the other hand, I had envisioned and written her with poor eyesight and she wore glasses. How did that affect the decision to off herself? Was she too vain to wish to continue as one of my characters? I saw my authority begin to dissolve.

So, in a heroic effort to re-establish and re-claim my jurisdiction – after all, she was supposedly my creation – I finally decided I needed to be very firm with her. She could not just go around deciding how, when, and where to become the center of the action. What if others followed her lead?

Ah! Maybe that was her problem. She felt like a minor character rather than a major one. She wanted more attention. Still, offing herself hardly seemed the way to go about it since, once she was dead, she had no way to enjoy the fruits of her action. I’d not planned for her to play a prominent part. I guess she realized she was definitely not the important character she thought she deserved to be.

Again, I had a lightbulb moment. Therein lay the danger of a runaway character. They imagine they have a more significant role in the plot or a different personality than the author provides. Writers know that characters make a story. When your fictional book people populate your imagination and come alive their actions determine the story.

Readers want to be swept away into the life of a character. This silly woman ruined that purpose. I was sorely tempted to discard any reference to her and replace her with a male.

As I continued to figure out what to do, I began to question my understanding of human nature. Then I remembered that this runaway lady was not human but a creation—an AI. Perhaps my fellow Residence writers can suggest a solution. Am I being a Pollyanna?