On my blog this week, I’m happy to welcome back author, Penny Petersen.
WHERE DO IDEAS COME FROM?
One of the questions writers often get seems to irritate many: “Where do you get your ideas?” Some writers have snappy answers: “Idea.com.” “The boys in the basement.” “The girls in the attic” (well, that one’s mine—the boys are Stephen King’s).
I don’t mind the question, but I have a really hard time answering it with any finesse. Each story has a different answer. Here are some specifics.
These explain the novels. But there are those published short stories, over sixty of them now. I can’t even remember where all those ideas came from. So, like most writers, I can’t come up with a one-fits-all answer.
What I have concluded about inspiration is that a person has to be open to it. It doesn’t really matter what sparks it, each person will take the same bit of matter, an object, a setting, a person, an event, and make up their own story, each unique with a different slant. Which definitely keeps things interesting, for me, anyway.
Anyone have a great reason for writing a particular story? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
A BROKEN LIFE EXCERPT
I strode into the store. Looked around. The only customer was male, about five-feet eight, with short brown hair, brown eyes and a pointy little nose. My accident-prone tail [from yesterday]. Surprised, I stopped in the doorway, staring . . .
Deciding to play it cool, I walked farther into the store, picked up a candy bar, a box of doughnuts, and watched the guy out of the corner of my eye. He said something to the cashier, then sauntered toward the door, head down. Maybe he felt me staring, because suddenly he looked up, saw me, and took off. I dashed out after him, the clerk yelling behind me. When I reached for the door handle of the Taurus, I realized I still had the candy and doughnuts in my hand. I heard the other car start up and back away. Throwing the goodies on the ground, I jumped into my car and took off after him, squashing the candy and doughnuts under my wheels.
He drove . . . with me right on his bumper. . . . I managed to stay with him all the way to Springton, and then through several other small towns until we were out in the country. I had memorized his license number by that time, as well as the back of his head.
The sound of a train whistle wailed in the distance. The car ahead slowed down as we approached a crossing. Behind me, I heard another sound–a siren. Lights flashed in my mirror. Thank goodness, I thought, the police. I looked ahead again and saw what the guy was trying to do. He wanted to get through the crossing and have the train block me. Don’t do it, I thought. Remember your luck with the bus. This would be much worse. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t.
The whistle hooted again, the train almost upon us. The guy made his move, getting through, and I had to stop. I turned around and motioned frantically toward the police car.
But the police officer took his time climbing out, his notebook in hand. He sauntered over to me so slowly that I became impatient and jumped out of the car.
“Hold it right there!” he yelled at me, drawing his weapon.
“Officer,” I shouted, standing still, putting my hands up. “You have to catch that guy.”
As I raised my arms, my jacket pulled away to reveal my gun. Now the officer stopped walking, too. “Use two fingers to take out your weapon,” he said, his voice hoarse, “and place it on the ground.”
“Officer,” I pleaded. “I’m a private detective on a case. We need to catch the man I was following.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Easter Bunny. I’ve heard them all now. Do as I said. Get that weapon on the ground, then turn around and spread-eagle against your vehicle.”
Shaking my head, I used my thumb and forefinger to gingerly lift my gun out of its holster, and bent down a little so I wouldn’t have to drop it far and damage it. After I straightened up, I hugged my Taurus and uncomfortably let the officer search me for more weapons. Did his hands linger a little longer than necessary? It was hard to tell under these circumstances.
“Okay,” he said when satisfied, still shouting over the noise of the train. “Now show me some identification.”
“In my purse,” I said through wooden lips, as I reached inside the car for my bag.
When he saw my PI license his only comment was, “Huh. Well, anyway, you’re under arrest.”
“What for?” I demanded.
“Shoplifting,” he shouted.
The train chugged along until finally the caboose came into view. I gaped at the police officer a moment before collecting what wits I had left. With one final, mournful toot of its horn, the train disappeared around a bend. I looked at the road ahead, and of course, the guy in the car had disappeared. My only real lead in the case.
Paula Mitchell, PI, is working on a domestic case when she discovers a homeless woman who looks like a fellow classmate from high school. When it turns out to be that person and Paula finds out how she came to be homeless, she takes Martha in and goes after the criminal who has stolen Martha’s identity which happened to be the reason Martha was out on the street.
As Martha’s investigation progresses, her former boss is killed and Paula does interview after interview with the people Martha worked with at the time her identity was stolen, only to come up with no real suspects. By now Paula’s had several threatening phone calls and an attempt on her life. Also, someone has been watching her. But who is he? And why is he hanging around her home?
When Martha is attacked in Paula’s driveway, the case really starts to heat up, especially when Paula’s deaf aunt shows up on her doorstep, adding one more person’s safety she has to worry about.
The characters were well-developed, and the mystery kept me turning pages. I recommend it to any mystery lover.
The Questions No One Wants To Answer
It’s not a new idea. Storytelling has always been at the service of philosophy. Stories are used to reinforce cultural norms and principles in nearly every human society… and, often, to keep the monsters at bay. Fairy tales in particular help children explore dark places without any harm to themselves; and there’s a reason why so many of us read murder mysteries, stories with killing at their hearts.
The remote mountain wilderness of North Carolina swallowed up the ten-year-old boy as he made his way down from the primitive camp where his grandparents had kept him hidden all his life. His dying grandmother, gifted with The Sight, set him on a quest to find the Good People, and though he is filled with fear and wary of civilization, Rabbit is determined to keep his promise to her. When he crosses paths with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, neither their lives, nor his, are ever the same again.
The extraordinary little boy called Rabbit has the power to change the world for everyone he meets, and the resourcefulness to save himself from the one person his grandparents had hoped would never find him. His dangerous and bittersweet journey will touch you in unexpected ways, and once you’ve let Rabbit into your heart, you’ll never forget him.
You can reach Marcia via email at mmeara@cfl.rr.com
or on the following social media sites:
Kindle edition: http://tinyurl.com/q653ksu
Their most recent novels—including PRAISE HER, PRAISE DIANA (Melange Books 2014)— have been set in New York City, where they have lived for most of their married lives. Anne is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College where, in nineteen sixty-nine, as the fabled Sixties were drawing to a close, she met Ken, who was a student at Haverford College. They don’t like to admit that they met at a college mixer, but there it is!
Their other novels set in New York include MIND ME, MILADY (Barbarian Books 2013) and KATE AND THE KID (Wings ePress 3013) and a middle reader/tween novel, THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM (MuseItUp Publishing 2014). Other of their books include THEFT OF THE SHROUD, a novel; STARFINDER, a non-fiction book about the stars for children; and a series of books on individual names for children (for example Michael’s Book, Elizabeth’s Book, John’s Book, Jennifer’s Book, David’s Book, Amy’s Book.
Mixed Messages, Unfinished Business and Desperate Deeds, the first three novels in her Malone Mystery series, are available at:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007VDDUPQ
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/patricia-gligor?keyword=patricia+gligor&store=book
Visit her website at: http://pat-writersforum.blogspot.com/