As I write this, the clock has just passed midnight, making it officially Christmas Day, and for the first time in 17 years, snow is falling on December 25th in Nashville. As my protag Greg McKenzie pointed out in the new book, A Sporting Murder, if you're looking for a white Christmas, this isn't the place to look. But here it is!
For the first time since I can't remember when, we won't be having a big crowd for Christmas dinner. Our brood has outgrown our house. Sarah and I joined two families when we married 11 years ago, and both of them have been busily expanding. Jointly, we now have 6 children, 11 grandchildren, and 7 great-grandchildren. Add 7 spouses to the mix and that totals 33 people, including us.
We split up for Thanksgiving, with Sarah's crowd gathering at one of her granddaughters and my crew dining here. For Christmas, my older son is staying in Pennsylvania, where he'll have his two sons and two grandchildlren for dinner. And my younger daughter stopped by Christmas eve on her way home to Oak Ridge with her four kids, for their first Christmas at home in years.
With snow on the ground, and in the streets, we plan to have a small dinner here with two of my kids and Sarah's grandson. We may miss all the usual hubbub, but it will be a time of relaxing and reminiscing. At our age, that's a good thing.
I'll close with my best wishes for all to have a merry and joyous Christmas, and may your best dreams come true in the New Year.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Sunday, August 2, 2009
December in August, Mysterious Weather
I’m writing a story set around the Christmas season, but the temperature outside is definitely August. I know there’s been a lot written about using weather in mysteries, but I think it adds something to the setting. I used it right off the bat to set the stage and bring up something from Greg McKenzie’s past. The first line (at the moment) is:
“I disliked the place as soon as I stepped out of the car, my breath vaporizing in the cold December night as though I had lapsed back into the smoking habit.”
Later, Greg contrasts Nashville’s snowless state with his experience from an assignment to a base at Minot, ND where the average December temperature was -13 degrees. John Sandford comments on Minneapolis-St. Paul’s temperature early in his new Wicked Prey, latest of his Lucas Davenport books. He wrote:
“As they went out the door, the heat hit them like a hand in the face. Not as bad as Alabama heat, but dense, and sticky, smelling of burned transmission fluid, spoiled fruit and bubble gum.”
Patricia Stoltey wrote a recent blog about the supposed “rule” that says don’t start your novel with the weather. She debunks it by citing openings from such authors as James Lee Burke, Michael Connelly, Robert B. Parker, and Margaret Truman. She also mentions the "rule" about using dreams. I’ve commented previously about my experience with that subject. A professional editor read an early version of Secret of the Scroll and said eliminate the nightmare, it’s passé. Then my editor at the publishing house saw the mention of waking after a dream and said to elaborate on it.
As I indicated, my only problem with the weather in the new book is creating the feel of winter during the dog days of summer. Incidentally, the “dog days” was invented by the Greeks and Romans who believed Sirius, the Dog Star, was the cause of all this hot, sultry weather. I’m trying to get my star to rise to the occasion and create some great frozen metaphors and similes.
I don't care for frequent "weather reports" in mysteries, but when a storm or a heat wave or some other weather phenomenon affects the outcome of a scene, or helps to set the stage, I say bring 'em on. How about you? Do you duck under an umbrella or throw the book against the wall?
“I disliked the place as soon as I stepped out of the car, my breath vaporizing in the cold December night as though I had lapsed back into the smoking habit.”
Later, Greg contrasts Nashville’s snowless state with his experience from an assignment to a base at Minot, ND where the average December temperature was -13 degrees. John Sandford comments on Minneapolis-St. Paul’s temperature early in his new Wicked Prey, latest of his Lucas Davenport books. He wrote:
“As they went out the door, the heat hit them like a hand in the face. Not as bad as Alabama heat, but dense, and sticky, smelling of burned transmission fluid, spoiled fruit and bubble gum.”
Patricia Stoltey wrote a recent blog about the supposed “rule” that says don’t start your novel with the weather. She debunks it by citing openings from such authors as James Lee Burke, Michael Connelly, Robert B. Parker, and Margaret Truman. She also mentions the "rule" about using dreams. I’ve commented previously about my experience with that subject. A professional editor read an early version of Secret of the Scroll and said eliminate the nightmare, it’s passé. Then my editor at the publishing house saw the mention of waking after a dream and said to elaborate on it.
As I indicated, my only problem with the weather in the new book is creating the feel of winter during the dog days of summer. Incidentally, the “dog days” was invented by the Greeks and Romans who believed Sirius, the Dog Star, was the cause of all this hot, sultry weather. I’m trying to get my star to rise to the occasion and create some great frozen metaphors and similes.
I don't care for frequent "weather reports" in mysteries, but when a storm or a heat wave or some other weather phenomenon affects the outcome of a scene, or helps to set the stage, I say bring 'em on. How about you? Do you duck under an umbrella or throw the book against the wall?
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