writing | Bertram's Blog

Is the Handwriting on the Wall for Cursive?

June 3, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Some schools no longer teach handwriting beyond kindergarten or first grade and some teach it not at all. It seems strange to think that few children growing up now will ever write anything by hand, but they won’t need to. Computers, tablets, phones are all just an itch away. Kids today are in constant contact with their peers, using a form of language — textspeak — that would have been anathema just a generation or two ago, but it is their world, not ours. They will have to be living in their “modern” world when we who are adults now are long gone. (I put quotation marks around modern because people in every age going back thousands of years have considered themselves as living in the modern world. And of course, they were right. To people in each era, their contemporary world is like the head of a comet with past trailing along behind. Someday a future era will be at the head — the new “modern” world — and our current modernity will be lost in its tail.)

I read once that the only place besides the brain where we have grey matter is in our fingertips, and perhaps that is true. I seem to have a better hand/brain connection when I am writing longhand than when I am typing on the computer — or at least I did. I wrote my novels long hand because that is the easiest way for me to delve into into myself for the story. I’m not one of those writers who can sit down and let the words flow. I have to sit and think about everything I want to say, and to figure out the best words to show what I decide to say. I’m getting used to writing on a computer since that’s how I write blogs, but I have a hunch that longhand is still the way to get deeper into my mind, where buried insights might have a chance of showing up on paper. And research bears this out. Apparently, writing by hand helps generate ideas.

In school, I always did well on tests without much studying because I took copious notes during class while other students daydreamed, talked, or doodled. New research explains why that was so — supposedly we have a better chance of retaining what we learn if we write it longhand rather than printing it or using a keyboard.

Other research shows that writing longhand, printing, and keyboarding all produce different brain patterns. For optimum brain usage, then, it would seem necessary to use all forms of writing. And yet, learning is not necessarily about optimum brain usage; it’s about standardizing not just information, but the students themselves. (That’s why they’re called standardized tests. If school was about teaching children to be independent or to develop their unique skills, they would be called something else like “Unique skills tests.”

When I started writing this bloggery, I intended to show that cursive was still important, but considering that kids today will have a different world to deal with than we do, maybe it’s better that they learn computer skills early on. But what do I know? Perhaps if I had written this essay by hand instead of typing it, deeper insights would have shown on the page, and I’d have a better grasp of what I think.

Handwritten copy of A Spark of Heavenly Fire

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in culture, writing. Tags: cursive, handwriting, modern, modern world, writing by hand, writing longhand. 5 Comments »

Stale Plot Devices

May 23, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’m still researching mystery clichés to use for the novel I’m planning to write, probably because researching is easier than actually sitting down and writing. To be honest, though, I don’t need to research clichés. I’ve read thousands of mysteries of all kinds — suspense, gothics, detective stories, cozies, police procedural, legal thrillers, medical thrillers, crime fiction — which certainly qualifies me as an expert on stale plot devices. In fact, when I started writing, I thought these devices were a necessary part of the genre because they were so common. It was a real joy to discover that I could write whatever I wanted — I didn’t have to follow in the fingerprints (I’m trying unsuccessfully to be non-clichéd here, using “fingerprints” rather than “footprints”) of those who have gone before.

Besides, mystery clichés seem to be everywhere. I’ve been watching tapes of “Mystery Woman,” TV movies originally released by Hallmark Channel, and these are the absolute most cliché-ridden mysteries I’ve ever had the misfortune to watch. The only reason I have the tapes is that Jeff (my life mate/soul mate) taped them before he died. (Well, obviously he taped them before he died. As far as I know, there aren’t any VCRs where he is. Come to think of it, there aren’t that many here anymore, either.) The movies are so bad they were funny when we watched them together, but somehow the humor escapes me when I watch them alone. If the clichés were presented in a whimsical manner, as I hope to do in my story, then the movies would have been redeemable, but presented as they are in all seriousness, oh, my. So not fun!

For example, though the location doesn’t seem to be specified in the scripts, the movies were filmed in Simi Valley, and the real bookshop is in Pasadena. Big areas. And yet every mystery the mystery woman gets involved with, the police chief himself shows up. No underlings. Just the police chief. He is such a bumbling idiot that he doesn’t know the first thing about law, doesn’t know when it is acceptable to arrest someone, doesn’t know how to interpret the evidence. He needs the assistance of a DA to keep him on the right track legally, and the assistance of the mystery woman to interpret the evidence. How the heck did he ever become police chief if he’s so ignorant, to say nothing of being rude, cocky, and boorish?

Not only does the police chief show up for every murder in the city where the bookshop is located, when the mystery woman discovers a dead body at a spa sixty miles away, the police chief shows up there too. This silliness makes it seem as if there is only one person employed in law enforcement for sixty miles around. Even if he were the police chief of a one-cop town, he would not be investigating a murder so far from his base. That privilege would fall to the county sheriff.

Worse yet, when he threatened to arrest someone (the wrong person, of course) he said he’d take them “downtown.” What cop talks like that? “Downtown.” Sheesh. When cops arrest someone, they take them to the police station. Or to jail. Not “downtown,” whatever that means. I tried to find the origin of this cliché and couldn’t, but my guess it is that it could have come from either Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct series or perhaps Dell Shannon’s Luis Mendoza mysteries.

Just as bad, in the movie the people who owned the spa sixty miles away had hired the mystery woman to film a brochure, which is why she was on the site to find the body. And yet it had never been established that she was a photographer. So why didn’t the people at the spa hire a real photographer? How did they hear about her? And why would they hire someone who was notorious for solving mysteries since they had something to hide?

Worst of all, the mystery woman has a caretaker for her shop, an enigmatic character who can do anything, and if he can’t, he knows someone who can. He can find any bit of information, hack into any computer, has access to the DMV, IRS, CIA. In itself, this is a bit of a cheat. Anything she wants to know just falls into her lap without effort. Well, almost anything. In one episode, where the mystery woman’s DA friend won’t let her see a will even though wills are public record, the mystery woman had to break into the deceased’s house to steal the will. Apparently, her caretaker can find out anything except things that are public record.

Maybe I’m going to have to rethink the whole idea of spoofing mystery stories for my book. After watching these movies, clichés no longer seem fun.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”) Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in books, writing. Tags: cliché-ridden mysteries, cop clichés, downtown, mystery cliches, Mystery Woman, research vs writing, take downtown. 6 Comments »

Wake Up and Die Right

May 20, 2014 — Pat Bertram

At an exercise class today, we talked a bit about the murder mystery I’m going to write about the class (assuming I get myself in gear), and then we did warm up exercises while the teacher sorted through her music to find the recording she wanted to play. When she couldn’t find the right DVD, she muttered, “Wake up and die right,” which stopped me in my tracks.

“What did you say?” I asked, not sure I heard correctly. She repeated the phrase, and I laughed. I’d never heard the saying before, and coming as it did right after a discussion about our fictional murder, it seemed even more amusing. And a bit gruesome.

Wake up and die right. Oh, my.

Odd words, phrases, and sayings often stay with me, rattling around in my brain until I can make sense of them. (In fact, just yesterday I railed against the appalling sentiment, “He deserved to die.”) The more I thought about “wake up and die right,” the more it made sense. We die right if at the end, we have no regrets. We die right if we’ve lived life to the fullest and used ourselves up, if we’ve danced and laughed, if we’ve enjoyed the company of those who enrich us, if we feel the sunsets and smell the rain-washed air. (If you live in the desert, of course, that rain-washed air comes so infrequently you better smell it when you can because it might be many months before you get another chance.)

Wake up and die right. Oh, yes.

Apparently, the saying came from World War II. Soldiers who let their attention wander were told to “Wake up and die right” — to pay attention, to fight, to get a grip, to die like a soldier if necessary. The adage migrated to the general population and seems to have been prevalent during the late forties and early fifties, but its use faded as memory of the war years became supplanted by other invasions with other jargons — the Beatles, the Viet Nam “police action,” the drug wars.

Today, more than sixty years after the maxim had been laid to rest, it came to life once again. I suppose in a way, it’s reminding me to just sit down and write the book about the class because, of course, I would regret not having written the story. I just need to wake up and do it so my designated victim can die right.

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Posted in culture, history/myth, writing. Tags: dying right, living life to the fullest, odd sayings, wake up and die right, WWII adage. 5 Comments »

I Am Not an Arthur

May 16, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Last night I got together with some people for a group walk and the first thing one of the women said to me was, “Are you an arthur?” Although my name is not Arthur, I knew what she was asking. A bit hesitantly, not sure if it were something to be proud of or ashamed about, I admitted I was an author.

The woman said, “I’ve just started writing. You should come over to my house so you can take a look at what I wrote and tell me what you think.”

I didn’t know this woman. Had just met her a few seconds before. And she wanted me to look at her writing? Eek.

As graciously as I could, I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t do that.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it’s a good way of making enemies,” I responded.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because people don’t like what I tell them.”

“Why?”

“Because I tell the truth.”

“That’s what I want,” she said. “The truth.”

By this time, I was feeling besieged. I live with people who constantly want/need things from me. I am always fielding online requests for help from people I don’t know and a few that I do. What I needed last night was a respite from such burdens.

Still trying to be gracious, though my irritation seeped through, I said. “No you don’t.”

And it’s true, whether she knew it or not: she did not want the truth as I see it. She had no writing experience. She wrote longhand and, because her wrists hurt, she hadn’t written much. She admitted she didn’t know how to spell, and when I told her that computers did that for her, she said she didn’t have a computer, didn’t know how to use one. She didn’t know grammar, either. Didn’t read books on how to write, didn’t read anything, actually, except a very occasional Stephen King.

So yes, I can guarantee she wouldn’t like anything I had to say about a few scribbled pages full of misspellings and grammar errors, and an absence of story elements. What she wanted was 1) for me to tell her that underneath all the obvious errors her writing was great and 2) for me to tell her everything I knew about writing in a few quick sentences. And there was no way I would do either. Besides, even if her writing was execrable, it’s not my place to tell her so and ruin her enjoyment.

I suggested that she read, but her wrinkled brow told me she couldn’t see the similarity between writing and reading. Finally, I told her just to write. To have fun with it. Not to worry about anything else. (Without a computer and with no desire to learn how to use one, she could never be anything but a hobbyist, so she might as well have fun.)

I learned something from last night’s experience, though — the next time anyone asks me if I’m an arthur, I’m going to say no.

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Posted in writing. Tags: arthur vs author, asking for writing advice, new writer, writing as a hobby. 15 Comments »

Cliché, Classic, Cheat, or Convention?

May 14, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been collecting mystery genre clichés to use in a whimsical mystery story. Some of the suggestions people have given me are true clichés — clues, characters, or plot devises that have been so overused they hold no surprise anymore. For example, “the butler did it.” The butler was such a ubiquitous character in older mysteries, and such an unobtrusive character, that the choice of the butler for villain was innovative the first time or two, but it quickly became clichéd. After the butler as villain became prevalent, there came a series of mysteries where the butler was the first suspect, but he was so obvious because everyone knew the butler usually did it, that he was quickly dismissed as a suspect, but the wily detective eventually discovered that it was, in truth, the butler. Then there were the mysteries where the butler became the detective. Now, of course, any use of a butler is clichéd, but it doesn’t matter because no one has a butler anyway. I suppose it would work if a character was named Butler. Hmmm. Might be a possibility for my mystery. Could be a fun gag if nothing else.

A convention is the way something is done. For example, in a mystery there must be a mystery, otherwise it wouldn’t be a mystery. There must be someone trying to unravel the mystery, and there must be clues, false trails, and various other common conventions that make up a mystery novel. And especially there must be a satisfying ending to tie up all the story threads. Just because these elements are in all mysteries, it doesn’t make them clichés. A cliché is something that has become so overused that it no longer holds any meaning or surprise, and the whole point of the mystery genre is meaningful and surprising revelations.

The mystery itself, or a specific type of ending could be clichéd, though. For example, the ending where a detective gathers all the suspects together has become a cliché, mostly because everyone today has at least a modicum of an idea of how the police really work, and the cops simply do not gather all the suspects together to unravel their case in public. Even amateur sleuths, such as the clichéd old lady who noses around because she thinks the police are bumbling idiots, don’t do such clichéd gatherings because they should be smart enough to know that’s how people get killed. And anyway, even if she does do a group unveiling, what difference does it make? Any unveiling of the killer or any confession wouldn’t hold up in court. (We did such a gathering for the end of Rubicon Ranch: Riley’s Story, a collaborative novel I wrote with several other authors, but what made it tolerable was my character’s derision of the whole idea.)

The only ending worse than the clichéd gathering is when the villain has the hero cornered, but spends so much time bragging about how he (or she) did it that the hero gets the upper hand. (Or vice versa — the hero has the villain cornered, but spends so much time congratulation himself that the villain gets away.)

Some clichés aren’t really clichés, but are more of a classic story element. For example, a locked room. Locked room mysteries are a subgenre of murder mysteries, and in fact, I will be using a locked room in my story. Locked rooms add a separate element to the mystery, because not only do you have to figure out who killed the victim and why, you also have to figure out how the heck they got into the locked room. And, of course, the locked room has to be an integral part of the story, otherwise it becomes a cheat with no other reason for being than to add cheap suspense. In my case, I can’t do anything but the locked room mystery. The mystery will revolve around a dance studio, and the only time the studio is unlocked is when people are there. It’s hard to commit a murder unseen in a crowd, though it has been done.

Occasionally clichés are cheats. Someone gets a letter from the victim or killer at the beginning of the story, the person puts the note in a pocket or desk drawer unread, but finds it at the end in time to keep the killer from killing again. It’s a cheat because if the fool had read the letter at the beginning, there would be no story.

In a mystery, the main characters have to act to the best of their ability at all times. A woman who is told not to go some place where danger lurks, and she goes simply because she was told not to, is someone who is not acting to the best of her ability. Stupidity is not a plot ploy. It is a cheat.

So, there you have it, a brief primer on the differences between clichés, classics, cheats, and conventions.

Posted in fiction, writing. Tags: genre writing, mystery cheat, mystery classic, mystery cliche, mystery convention, the butler did it. Leave a Comment »

Let’s Play the Cliché Game!

May 13, 2014 — Pat Bertram

My exercise class suggested I write a book about them. One woman even volunteered to be the victim, though I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her. She is lovely, charming, and utterly delightful. I wasn’t going to write the story since it seemed a good way to lose a lot of friends, but at the lunch the other day, I almost whacked one of my classmates with my exercise bag, and she deadpanned, “I’m not the one who volunteered to be the murder victim.” So I decided to write the book. I mean, how could I not use such a perfect line?

I’d like to do the book campy with exaggerated uses and sly mentions of mystery clichés. For instance, I could get a call from one of the women who says she has information, but won’t give it to me over the phone. I immediately rush over there, of course, since such a call is a precursor to being murdered in cheap mysteries, but when I get there I find . . . I don’t know. Something innocuous. That the cell phone battery went dead. (Or better yet, I call the cops, and they think I’m hysterical.) Then there’s the “Don’t Go There” ploy, advice that a character ignores. When she does Go There, she almost gets herself killed. (Someone suggested this should be a buxom blonde, and of course, I know the perfect person for the role — a lady in red who is a buxom blonde or rather a buxom sometimes-blonde, and she definitely would Go There.) Of course I would also mention the old fictional women from small towns who stumble on so many murders, there couldn’t possibly be anyone left alive in the vicinity. Perhaps even use the alcoholic, donut-eating cop, misogynous cop.

I’m going to start out writing the book the way the idea unfolded in real life, beginning with the suggestion of my writing the book, our planning the murder, etc. leading up to the day we go to class and find her dead for real. The victim is such a good sport, she let me take a photo of her being dead to use for the book cover. (She sank to the ground gracefully, and fell into the perfect pose. Hmm. Maybe she is an eminently suitable victim after all. In the mystery world, she would be too good to be true.)

For now, I’m collecting clichés to use in the book. What do you think are the top clichés in mystery/suspense/thriller fiction? Who are the stock characters? What clichés and other mystery genre conventions do you absolutely hate?

But be careful! You might just end up in the book.

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Posted in fiction, writing. Tags: don't go there, donut-eating cop, lady in red, mystery cliches, suitable victim, too good to be true, writing a mystery. 9 Comments »

Why We Read Blogs

May 7, 2014 — Pat Bertram

At lunch with friends today, one woman said she was computer literate, but admitted she didn’t understand why anyone would read my blog, or any blog, actually. Another friend said she read my blog because it was interesting. I was glad she supplied a response because my mind had gone blank — why would anyone read my blog?

People unfamiliar with blogging often equate these web logs — these online journals — with the diaries many of us kept as children. “I had oatmeal for breakfast. I went to school. Bobby pulled my hair. I did my homework then Mom let me watch television.” Deadly dull lists of activities no one, including us, ever cared about. Admittedly, many bloggers do relate the minutiae of their day, but mostly people talk about what is important to them.

One online friend, a woman who lost her soul mate a month before I lost mine, started a blog to chronicle her new life. She’s about to become a nomad, living and traveling in a small motor home. Among other things, she will be searching for a new life, a new place, maybe even happiness. Her blog tells of her preparations, and once she’s on the road, that blog will tell of her adventures.

Many online author friends blog about their available books, their publishing experiences, the books they read and review, the stories they are writing.

People with expertise in various fields give advice. Literary agents tell authors how to get published, hikers tell about their experiences in the wilderness, mothers give advice or seek support with raising children, businesses blog about their products, crafty folk share patterns and photos of finished projects, techno-types discuss the newest technology.

And me . . . I write about myself — my ideas, my hopes, my experiences, what I’ve learned from those experiences — and anything that captures the attention of my magpie mind. I write this blog because . . . well, because I am a writer. Nothing seems real to me until I’ve put it into words, though I am learning to be in the moment, to be alive without needing to explain to myself what I am feeling.

Until the past few months, most people who read this blog have been online friends or strangers, which was — is — wonderful, but now people I know in real life are also reading this blog. There is a quiet joy in being told, “I read your blog last night.”

Of course, that’s more about why I write this blog than why people read it. I’d planned to talk about how important stories are, how stories connect us, how the life stories people choose to share with us show us our similarities. I’d planned to say we read blogs for the same reason we read fiction — to live and learn and grow vicariously. Not all of us might be able to live on the road, for example, yet we can all share in the struggles and triumphs of those who do. In the end, I decided not to focus on the storytelling aspect of blogging. The truth is much simpler than that. As my friend said, we read a particular blog because it’s interesting.

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Posted in blogging, internet, writing. Tags: blogging as storytelling, importance of stories, reading blogs, why blog, writing blogs. 8 Comments »

Break Time Now Available on Amazon!

May 3, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Break Time, the steampunk anthology I’ve been collaborating on with six other authors has now been published. You can find the kindle edition here: Break Time on Kindle And the print edition here: Break Time in print. Soon it will be available on Smashwords and on Barnes and Noble.

To whet your appetite for the story, here is an excerpt from Break Time:

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(Interim) Florence Giston, 1966 by Pat Bertram

Five minutes after the time machine winked out in a rainbow of light and harmonious sounds, it still hadn’t returned. Flo had watched the machine leave and arrive back within minutes during Al’s journeys to their shared past, so she thought she knew what to expect, but she hadn’t experienced this lag time before. Maybe something had gone wrong?

She waited another minute, then slowly turned around in a circle, hoping that the machine had somehow appeared behind her, but the black pyramid remained absent.

She’d felt helpless after the death of her husband, knowing there was nothing she could do to bring him back to her, but even that feeling of powerlessness paled in comparison to this new conundrum. Death, despite its awesome mysteriousness, was still somehow ordinary. Except for those alive today, everyone who had ever been born was now dead.

Could Al be dead? Her father-in-law had said he was going to kill steam, but could someone have killed him before he could accomplish his task? Could the time machine have somehow gone off course, or crashed? If Al was lost somewhere in the break in time, how would she ever find him?

She took a deep breath. No matter how long Al might have been traveling in time—misplaced or not— he’d only been gone a few minutes.

No need to panic.

Just wait. See what happens. Believe he will return.

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Posted in books, fiction, writing. Tags: Break Time, steampunk, steampunk anthology, time travel. 9 Comments »

Call for Submissions

May 1, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Second Wind Publishing is accepting short stories, essays and poetry for its upcoming anthology, Wind Through an Open Door.

All submissions should deal with the question: what happens to us when we pass from this life? Remembrances of lost loved ones, personal experiences, profound recognitions of the afterlife (or its absence)—regardless of religious persuasion—are all welcome.

There is no cost to submit an entry. There is a maximum of 7000 words for essays or short stories. All entries must be submitted no later than June 10, 2014. Those whose work is included in the anthology will receive two contributor copies. Additional copies will be available for purchase, with contributors receiving a 60% discount. Submissions and questions should be sent to mike@secondwindpublishing.com. Be sure to use “Wind Through an Open Door submission” in the subject line.

Best of luck to everyone!

Posted in writing. Tags: anthology submissions, Second Wind Publishing, short story submissions. 16 Comments »

All Good Stories Begin and End in the Heart of a Man . . . or a Woman

April 30, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I just finished watching Last of the Dogmen for the fourth or fifth time, and I am still under the spell of powerful storytelling. The story itself is good, but what makes it special is the narration by Wilford Brimley. Oddly, the narration was added after filming and over the objection of the writer/director who was so upset by the use of supplementary text that he refused to write Brimley’s words. Apparently, in some versions of the movie, the narration was subsequently cut way down and redone in another voice, probably in response to viewer complaints since most people seemed to think the narrative annoying, so I’m lucky to have the version I do.

What’s interesting about the narration from a writer’s standpoint is that it’s a good example of tell don’t show. Normally, showing is the way to go, but there are many intangibles that cannot be shown, especially in a movie. What’s interesting about the narration from a viewer’s standpoint is that it adds a different dimension to the film, taking it beyond a fantasy/romance/western into the category of myth.

The narration starts out with Brimley intoning that “the story begins where all good stories begin and end — in the heart of a man . . . or a woman.” I like that line, mostly because of its truth. If a story doesn’t delve into what matters, then the story doesn’t matter. Another line of Brimley’s is “Sometimes you have to put your faith in something you can’t see.”

And that, of course, is why the movie speaks to me. Both characters are searching for something beyond their ordinary lives, as am I, and they find wonder and mystery they could never even have imagined.

Perhaps we are all looking for what lies beyond the façade of normal life, because really, how can this culture of ours be the apex of billions of years of creation? There must be a world of wonder running concurrently with this world of wage slavery and commercialism. We can’t all find Dogmen, of course, but we can find . . . something.

For thirty-four years, I did find “something.” Although I wasn’t looking for it, I found love, companionship, connection with another human being, which was magical in its own way. And now that he’s gone, I want a different form of magic, though I couldn’t even begin to define what I am looking for. Just . . . something.

And that “something” lies where the rest of my story is — in my heart. It’s just a feeling I have, that there’s something out there — or in me — to find. In Joe vs. the Volcano, another favorite movie of mine, Meg Ryan tells Tom Hanks, “My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement.”

While living in a state of constant total amazement sounds exhausting, it would be nice to waken just once.

As for movies, apparently what appeals to me in film is the mythic quest. Joe vs. the Volcano, like Last of the Dogmen, is another story of people finding what they never knew they were searching for. And it’s a story of luggage, but luggage is a topic for another day.

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