Lafayette Cemetery No.1—Not as Creepy as I Anticipated

Actually, it wasn’t creepy at all. As I mentioned in a previous post, I had opportunity to visit New Orleans over the winter, and one of the places of interest was the Lafayette Cemetery No.1, the oldest of the seven municipal, city-operated cemeteries in New Orleans.

Normally, when visiting a destination, Todd and I don’t do tours. We like to wing it on our own. But this time, I wanted an inside scoop and very specific information, so I arranged for a tour through Save OurCemeteries.

What I did not realize is that generations of families are entombed in many of the crypts. During summer, the insides of the tombs get exceedingly hot—our tour guide told us just how many degrees, but like most numbers, it went in, terrorized my brain, and fled. Suffice it to say, it’s hot enough to essentially cremate a body within a few years, making way for the next deceased.

The best thing about the New Orleans’ cemeteries is that they’re above ground. One of the brochures says, “It is only a myth that above-ground tombs were required because of the high water table in the city. Instead, early New Orleanians chose to bury above ground in response to their French and Spanish cultural history. Above-ground tombs just happen to be the intelligent response to the geographical realities of living in a swamp.”

One of the oddest sites was The Society for the Relief of Destitute Boys. It was decorated with all sorts of trinkets—actually, that was a little creepy, the photo bomber notwithstanding.

 

It’s kind of sad that so many of the tombs are deteriorating despite efforts to restore and maintain the cemetery. Just the same, the relative state of disrepair makes for good story detail, and interesting pictures. I found quite a few tombs that would be perfect for the story.

 

Portrait of a Girl Adrift — Waylaid by Research

I’m happy to say that I am nearly done with the first draft of Portrait of a Girl Adrift, the continuing saga of Leila at large, aka the Portraits series. In this novel, she’s on a quest to find out about her deceased mother who abandoned her when Leila was three years old. Lots of psychological stuff as usual—fun to research. Those parts of the story write up fairly quickly. And then there’s the settings…

Generally, I write about places where I’ve spent considerable time, places like New Hampshire, Maine and Long Island, so it’s all second nature. But the settings in Portrait of a Girl Adrift are a bit beyond my proverbial backyard. Places like New Orleans, the Gulf of Mexico via a 47’ sailboat, Cuba, and Grand Cayman Island. So, the writing has been slow. And just because I’m about 10% away from finishing the first draft—I should say very rough first draft—does not mean I’m anywhere near done. I won’t even try to project when it might be ready for publication.

Speaking of settings, New Orleans being one of them, I did have an opportunity to do some firsthand research over the winter. A couple of scenes take place at the Lafayette Cemetery No.1. Fortunately, not much has changed at the cemetery since the mid 1980s, unlike the rest of the city since Katrina in 2005. More on that later...

Writing about sailing across the Gulf of Mexico in a 47' sailboat has probably taken the most time, and that part of the research is still not complete. And then there's Grand Cayman Island...

The trick is finding information—aside from offshore banking articles—about Grand Cayman in 1984. I also visited Grand Cayman very briefly in January, but the island now is much different than it was thirty years ago. So, the research is taking a little longer than I expected. Nevertheless, I think it would be fun to blog about some of the information I’ve come across over the course of writing Adrift. At any rate, it will help me to blog a little more regularly than twice annually!

Meanwhile, here’s a pretty picture of 7-Mile Beach on Grand Cayman Island

Stay tuned…

A Boat Upon Which to Float My Story!

I’ve been under the weather this week, and so what better way to spend idle time than to learn about sailing in New Orleans and pick out a sailboat! I mentioned in my last post that there will be sailing in this novel, the third in the Portrait series (title still to be determined). I sail a little, that is, I have little sailing experience other than tooling around on a few lakes and, yes, that little bit on Chesapeake Bay (well, Todd did most of the work). Our Bock sailboat is pretty in her own way, but she’s fiberglass and was manufactured by a laundry manufacturer in Ohio—not particularly romantic.

I do however come from a short line of boat builders. My grandfather and uncle built a lovely little wooden boat, and my dad builds some beautiful models. I grew up on the Great South Bay and sailed occasionally with my dad in our little Seaford skiff. So, I guess I come by my interest in boats somewhat honestly, but having taken all that for granted growing up, I never paid attention to the particulars of boats or sailing. Yes, I was taught the difference between port and starboard, stern and bow, but other than that, not so much.

My sad lack of technical knowledge didn’t keep me from writing Uncharted: Story for a Shipwright, which I think I pulled off without any glaring errors, thanks to my nautical-savvy beta readers. If only I could have retained half of what I researched! So, now that I’m undertaking another sailing adventure, one with a whole lot more actual sailing, I find myself in deep water.

So, what’s a novelist to do? Happily, I have a writing buddy who sails expertly, but I can’t just throw a sloppy, unresearched mass at her! So, for my initial phases of fact-finding, I have two terrific resources—the WoodenBoat Forum, and Cruisers Forum, both have been extremely helpful. I posted a thread, “Need a Boat for a Work of Fiction,” and received wonderful, and often comprehensive, responses. Consequently, I have picked a boat upon which to float the nautical part of Portraits III! In real life, her name is Infanta and she is a 47’ Bermuda yawl located overseas with the added perk of being designed by Philip Rhodes, one of my favorites.

Some may recall that in Uncharted, old Buck built a replica of Rhode’s Pavana, a 46’ yawl.

Anyway, my yet-unnamed boat will be sailing out of New Orleans to the Cayman Islands, which means my research has only just begun—more on New Orleans later…

If you are curious about Infanta's interior and specs, here's her listing from before her new owners acquired her. And a special thanks to the owners for answering my "left-field" question about the fo'ward head! No detail is too small to research!

[Note to self: Never be afraid to click "Contact" on a website.]

Pushing the Limits of Absurdity

I suppose I ought to post something now that it’s the beginning of a new year—and I thought I’d provide an update on what I’ve been up to, writing-wise. Blind Sighted was slow starting, but now I’m nearly 20k words into the story;  the characters and plot are beginning to take shape. I still have a lot of research to do in the following categories:

• Sino-Russian relations during the cold war
• The Berlin Wall
• The Russian ballet and costumes
• Delusional Disorder
• Narcissistic Personality Disorder
• Asperger’s Syndrome
• Common Russian expressions
• Being a professional seamstress in an upper-class, small New England community—Oh, wait, I don’t have to research that—I already have personal experience!

Hopefully this gives you a hint about what this story entails, and yeah, I will be pushing the envelope of absurdity—I mean, the main POV character’s name is Juliet, and her brother’s name is Romeo. Seriously. What kind of a mother names her children Rome and Juliet, especially with a last name Glitch!? And let’s not forget Kim (the poor guy whose delusional mother believes he’s blind). When a girl’s life already pushes the boundaries of absurdity, it’s easy for someone else’s absurd life to draw her in—dangerously easy.

I’ve also decided to do a little book promotion for Portrait of a Girl Running, and its sequel Portrait of a Protégé. I’ve been reading up on marketing books in this ever-evolving world of publishing, and it seems that slow and steady has more of an impact on long-term marketing than the old model of creating a huge bang at a book’s release (yeah, I’ve been reading Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s blog). That said, now, a couple of months after the release of my Portraits novels, you will see me doing what I didn’t think I’d ever get up the gumption to do—promote my books (with the help of publicist Paula Margulies, because you know I wouldn’t do it on my own!).

That said, I should plug my networking stuff, so, if you'd like to follow me on Twitter or Facebook, that would be okay with me! My books are also on Goodreads ... in case you were wondering ....

Meanwhile, here’s an absurd song I wish I could use as my theme music for Blind Sighted—sort of.

Pushing Boundaries & Fiduciary Relationships

Fiduciary Relationship—that is, a relationship based on an inherent trust or trustworthiness. I first came across that term while doing research for GIRL RUNNING and PORTRAIT OF A PROTEGE. I found it in the article Sexualization* of the doctor–patient relationship: is it ever ethically permissible? by Katherine H Hall. While these two stories do touch briefly on Doctor-Patient ethics, I was more interested in Teacher-Student relationships, and I believe many of the principles cited in Hall’s article apply.

The fiduciary relationship is based on trust, wherein one party has greater power and thus control. Granted, many relationships incorporate a fiduciary element. I maintain that a healthy relationship distributes such power, contingent upon the assets each party brings to the table; that power is ever shifting. Oftentimes, principles of the fiduciary relationship are manifest when one party is significantly older than the other, though it surely holds true in other ways—such as when it comes to the intellectual, financial and social status of each party.

In my novel, GIRL RUNNING, I’ve chosen to explore the Teacher-Student relationship, particularly wherein pre-existing contact—outside of school—levels the playing field (a bit).

GIRL RUNNING explores the emotionally intense relationship between 17 year-old, orphaned and unsupervised Leila and her math teacher from hell, alongside, and often at conflict with, a blossoming romantic relationship with the track coach.

The author of the above-mentioned article concludes: “…[sexualized] relationships with former patients should not be regarded as ethically permissible except under such rare circumstances.” I believe the same holds true for Teacher-Student relationships. And so, I have attempted to explore that “rare circumstance.”

What do you think? Can such ‘unequal’ relationships succeed, long-term?

* just to clarity, neither of my stories contain sex between a student and teacher.

Writers Lurking in The Bilge

When I stumbled down into The Bilge, to ask my Question for a Work of Fiction, I had only meager hopes of acknowledgement. After my eyes quit burning and adjusted to the dark, and my olfactory senses deadened, I found that not only had my boat question been answered, but I came across something I had not anticipated.

Writers.

They don’t advertise themselves as such, but under the premise of ‘takes one to know one’, they’re not hard to detect. I quoted TerryLL aka Terry Lavallee a few posts back, and you tell me if this doesn’t sound like what you’ve read on writers’ forums and blogs:

“The danger in spending so much time burnishing one paragraph is that it shines like a jewel against the less-polished background of the rest of the narrative. It's often the case that the first two or three chapters of a novel radiate brilliance, thence to trail off like a dying comet, finally flickering out in some contrived ending.

The key to a page-turner is consistency, a plausible story, compelling characters, and a driving narrative. As for structure, let terseness be your mantra; pray for brevity. Words are a precious commodity; hoard them.”

Although his profile reveals only that he is in Textile Equipment Manufacture, I had a strong hunch he might be holding back. When I posted a quick excerpt from my novel (a sailing race), he responded this way:

“Authenticity is important in a work of fiction, as I've mentioned before, so you should strive to be factually accurate. But there comes a point, when one small detail is heaped upon a vast pile of other small details, that a narrative begins to sound somewhat like a documentary.

One of the most important vehicles to carry your narrative along, and to make your tale tangible and personal, is the imagination of the reader. If you leave no room for imagination, by supplying every last minute detail, the reader is often left on the sidelines, an observer rather than a participant.

Where is the sound of the sails flapping, the whistle of the wind through the stays, the cold spray on the face, the smell of the sea, the thump of the waves against the hull? You need only hint at the visceral, and then let the readers conjure up for themselves those sounds and aromas. When the reader can imagine that cold spray on the face, and hear the whine of the wind, then you have succeeded in drawing the reader into your tale.
BTW, lovely blog.” (oh, I meant to edit-out that last bit)

Now, you tell me—does that sound writerly to you? Inquiring aspiring novelist that I am, I had to ask. You guess right! He has a WIP, a who-done-it set in Seattle, and he’s 80K words into it.

Here’s another:

In my Moaning Chair post, I provided a link to Norm Bernstein’s eloquent description (one I found by Googling “moaning chair”). Come to find out, he is a prolific poster down in The Bilge. In fact, back in early 2001, he came up with a plot for a novel about a terrorist cell in the US, and wrote the novel, his first. He was in the process of shopping it to literary agents, when 9/11 happened… and the similarities of his plot line, and actual events, rendered his novel probably un-sellable.

A good time for the Moaning Chair.

These are just two of the aspiring novelists I came across in my short time down in The Bilge. Many more writers co-exist down there—both published and unpublished. Even those without aspirations of becoming novelists often produce posts that are a delight to read (yes Mr. Left, I'm including you in the mix).

In your travels, have you come across writers in unsuspected places?

The 'Moaning Chair'

I just learned a new word over at The Bilge—it’s  not just a nautical word, but also a concept:

The ‘Moaning Chair.’
I know, that's 2 words (unless you include 'the', then it's 3).

Without getting all technical on you, here’s how Mr. Left summed it up for me:

“The origins of the "Moaning chair" is the need to sit down and hold your head from exploding after you spent a day and a half doing something completely bass ackwards. Or completely undoing in 30 seconds that it took you a week to do. The moaning chair often has a cooler of beer and a bottle of rum next to it.”
Here's another great description, by Norm Bernstein.

It occurs to me that not only do boat builders need a moaning chair, but so do we as writers, especially those of us who are in the middle of the learning curve. It’s for those times when we learn a new rule, especially something like ‘don’t use Past Participle Phrases.’ Then we realize (after we do the research so we can figure out what the heck the term even means), that our manuscript is loaded with them. Now we’re paranoid about adding ‘ing’ to any word.

Or when we’ve overextended ourselves on word count—we wrote a 150K YA novel without bothering to find out that 70-80K is the outside limit. Time to kill our little darlings.

And then we start second guessing our entire premise (or a good chunk of it), our characters’ motivations, our writing skills and true potential (or lack thereof).
Oh, what’s the use?...

And I won’t even talk about when it’s querying time and all we get is rejection after rejection, and it occurs to us that it could have something to do with the fact that our ‘Women’s Fiction’ is actually Commercial/General/Literary Fiction, and we just blew our chance with a bunch of agents. (I mean really, who ever heard of Women’s Fiction narrated in first person by a guy?! [I know, I know, don’t rub it in].) Surely, it was that and not all those Past Participle Phrases…
Oh, right, that’s only happened to me…

Probably a good time to pull out the moaning chair, cry our eyes out, then take a deep breath and consider all our options (likely, with the help of that beer or rum). I think every writer’s/critique group should have a moaning chair over in the corner so that when we make stupid mistakes, we can go sit in it and think about what we’ve done.

Yes, the moaning chair is there for pitying ourselves, but it’s also there so we can rest a bit, regroup and clarify out thoughts—it’s where we decide there is a solution, where our writing buddies come over and pull us up (or share that beer), and then we get back to work.

When’s the last time you needed a ‘moaning chair?’

'Lady Writer' at The Bilge PUB

While studiously researching at The Bilge, I recently received a 'private message' from one of the ‘Senior Members’. Now, I’m used to the bloggy way of doing things, and wasn’t sure what to do about the ‘private’ message. Who was this stranger? I had not seen his avatar on the only place I ever posted—the Question for a work of fiction thread that I started.

The message said: “For some really good stuff come to the pub. ”

Very mysterious…I mean, how would you take that?

Well, I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. What exactly is ‘The PUB?’ I wondered. Sure, I was curious as all get out, but what exactly would I be getting myself into? I was just too chicken to respond.

A day or so later, I received another ‘private message,’ this time from an avatar I recognized, Mrleft8 (he knows a lot of boat stuff). He said that over at the pub, there was ‘a little bit that might be of interest to me in describing a dive bar.’ He was also kind enough to provide directions. It is located on the seedier side of town—it is The Bilge, after all—so I was still hesitant, which, as most of you know, is much a part of my nature.

Undeterred, I grabbed my paper and pad, smoothed my skirt against my trembling schoolgirl legs, sucked in some courage, and stepped through the door. Surprisingly, it was not as seedy as I expected.

Instead, the aroma of Welsh rarebit and a tasty vegetable soup, chock full of tender bits of assorted roots, stems, leaves, and fruits rushed my olfactory senses. I could smell boneless ribeye steak, grilling to perfection over charcoal, to be served with hand cut fries, and a Waldorf salad. The special on tap was Molson Brador. Honestly, just standing there I put on ten pounds!
The crew at the Pub—including Bobby, who first offered the invite—have built a virtual pub experience...and with only words! Imagine that!

When Bobby asked, “Ok, water, wine, beer what’s your drink? Welcome to the pub,” I was still a little nervous.

Hoping no one else would hear, I said, “Okay, please don’t' mock and ridicule—I drink the cheapest and lightest beer I can find. But I'm open to trying pretty much anything.”

Well, before I could flip my writing tablet open, he placed a frosty beer in front of me with a wink. Some of the locals sat at the bar beside me and started making small talk, asking me where I was from. They were a very congenial lot, and I recognized quite a few of them. We continued to chat for a bit as I drank my light beer, but mostly I just listened.

Then I told them, “I'm just going to sit quietly over here at the table in the corner. You just pretend I'm not here and talk about all sorts of boatsie things.”

I guess I didn’t make too bad of an impression, (although they speculated that I was a green apple martini, or cosmopolitan kinda gal, which I'm not).

They even posted the link to this Dire Straits, YouTube video for me, in spite of the fact that they did not get a special mention on my blog post about Researching at The Bilge.


Incidentally, the PUB boasts the most frequently visited and commented on thread over at The Bilge forum, and I consider it a privilege to hang out for a few minutes here and there.

I wonder, when doing research for your writing, have you ever had to go somewhere that made you a little nervous?

Research in 'The Bilge'

I was this close to thinking Story for a Shipwright was done. Problem was, I couldn’t quell that nagging little notion that the ending needed something more. Then a beta-reader confirmed it. So, like the good little progressive writer that I am, I began drafting out an extended ending, where I introduce a rather tense situation. To break it up a bit, I decided to have Samuel (the shipwright and narrator) engage in some boat work.

Now, this novel is not about building boats, so I haven’t gone all technical with it—in fact there are places where I think it could stand some expanded and authentic terminology. This, of course, requires more research. I do live in a state surrounded by water, but the likelihood of finding a boatyard engaged in launching a boat this time of year is, well, nil.

Of course there are all sorts of online encyclopedias out there, and I have downloaded volumes of information on nautical terminology and boatbuilding how-to’s. I also love pouring over our subscription to WoodenBoat magazine. And, they just happen to have an online forum for boat builder enthusiasts.

There were a number of forums on which I could have started a thread, but I stumbled down to the bottom of the list and found The Bilge. Honestly, I just love that word, and it seemed to be the catchall for things that don’t seem to fit 'Misc and Boat Related' (although I did end up posting there too).

In case you don’t know what a bilge is, here are two definitions that sum it up:
1.
a. either of the rounded areas that form the transition between the bottom and the sides on the exterior of a hull.
b. Also, bilges. an enclosed area at the bottom of a vessel where seepage collects.
2. Slang. foolish or worthless talk or ideas; nonsense.

As soon as I arrived, they politely informed me that I had probably posted in the wrong place. I felt like a schoolgirl walking into a seedy old dive amidst a bunch of salty, seafaring bilge rats looking up over their pint of brew at the new lad (due to the ambiguity of ‘jbchicoine,’ they though I was a guy).

“Real research is done ‘aboveboard’,” they informed me, as one of the other guys pulled out a chair.

“Awe, leave the lad alone—we should be flattered that he’s even asking our opinion,” he muttered.

All at once, they seemed to realize they had a new audience and the advice came pouring in like—well, like bilge water!

Once I collected enough information to get me started, I posted my rough draft and opened it up for embellishment:

I worked the railway winch, letting out the cable, inching it along the gentle incline as Derek and Mitch walked its length, out the back exit, toward the ramp. The cradle creaked and the cable groaned as the motor whined. Metal rollers screeched on the tracks where I hadn’t greased well enough, but it crept along, stuttering here and there. As soon as water lapped its keel, I took Derek’s place. I figured that if the whole thing were going to crash on its side, it might as well put me out of my misery. At the rate this day had been going, I half-expected it.

This is what I ended up with (still open to embellishment, if anyone cares to do so). I think it's way better:

I worked the railway windlass, releasing the cable, paying it out along the gentle decline as Derek and Mitch walked the Marjie B’s length, out the back doors, toward the ramp. I had coated the cable, chains, and pulleys so heavily in grease that they couldn't screech or groan if they had to. Only the trucks grumbled on the tracks, occasionally crunching bits of gravel as they crept the length of the rails with barely a stutter. Surprisingly, the motor purred without any more misbehavior. Once water lapped her keel, I took Derek’s place. I figured that if the whole thing were going to crash on its side, it might as well put me out of my misery. At the rate this day had been going, I half-expected it.

Here’s a well-expressed response I received from one of the guys, TerryLL:

Not bad, but still could stand some tweaking. The danger in spending so much time burnishing one paragraph is that it shines like a jewel against the less-polished background of the rest of the narrative. It's often the case that the first two or three chapters of a novel radiate brilliance, thence to trail off like a dying comet, finally flickering out in some contrived ending.

The key to a page-turner is consistency, a plausible story, compelling characters, and a driving narrative. As for structure, let terseness be your mantra; pray for brevity. Words are a precious commodity; hoard them.

Gotta wonder if he’s in the biz. To be honest, they’re all rather articulate—eloquent even—for a bunch of ‘bilge rats’ (their term, not mine).

For me, hanging out at The Bilge has been the next best thing to the boatyard.