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Showing posts with label Leslie Budewitz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leslie Budewitz. Show all posts

October 25, 2021

Getting Ideas from Guilty Pleasures



Leslie Budewitz




I’m a big fan of advice columns in newspapers and magazines. Reading them is like eavesdropping on neighbors you haven’t met yet. The woman who tolerated her husband’s pandemic beard, even though she thinks it looks terrible, but now can’t get him to shave. The cousin of the bride who wonders how many showers she should be expected to attend, gift in hand. The man whose girlfriend has the temerity to ask to be paid for working in his business.



Advice columns provide terrific glimpses of both minor and major tensions in real people’s lives. They offer a window on how people talk and think, what they prioritize, the stories they tell themselves. They brim with potential conflict, the heart of story.



Some of the more substantive columns, like the Hax Files and Ask Amy in the Washington Post (syndicated in other newspapers across the country), portray situations that could easily support a main plot or crop up in a subplot involving work, friendships, or romantic relationships. I’ve learned a lot from writers and the responses, from both columnists and readers, about the shape of grief, and that’s helped me both in real life and in creating my characters, particularly the recent widow who is the main character of Bitterroot Lake, my suspense debut earlier this year. Anything that helps us understand people better is news we can use on and off the page.



Some show us how people attempt to resolve or prevent conflict. A recent letter in the Hax Files came from a mother whose teenage son had come out to the parents, who were firmly supportive of their child but needed advice on telling a grandparent who had made homophobic comments in the past. The kind, compassionate responses helped me think about how to better portray family conflicts, both those that resolve and those that don’t. A minor character in my Spice Shop mysteries is trans, and it’s been useful to read about the experiences of trans people and their families in thinking about her. We as authors need to know what shaped each of our characters, whether that backstory appears on the page or not.



As in real life, letter writers often want confirmation that their behavior is appropriate, even when it isn’t. Such an interesting dynamic—the ways we try to justify and explain our behavior, and yet, the desire to get a pat on the head from someone else reveals that maybe we don’t completely believe the story we’re trying to tell ourselves. Is there a character in your WIP who’s trying to do just that? As writers we’re often reminded that “no one is a villain in their own minds,” and that’s as true of the restaurant customer who deliberately leaves a mess on the table to get back at an annoying server as it is of the serial killer who targets blondes because his peroxide mother abused or neglected him.



Other columns provide terrific examples of microtension. Take that beard story. The wife had been proud of her husband’s looks and resents the loss of that point of pride, which seems to have been more important to her than his comfort or his pleasure in the opportunity to let his hair down. (Disclosure: Mr. Right grew a pandemic beard. I thought it was adorable, but I appreciated him asking if I’d mind if he shaved. I didn’t, of course. It’s his face.) Slip that into a marital relationship between two characters and watch the squirm factor rise.



Some—I’m thinking here of Date Lab, the Washington Post’s write-ups about blind matches its columnists set up—offer fun situations that could liven up a plot. If your characters are going on a date and you’ve been married since Jimmy Carter was president, it can be eye-opening to see what daters of all ages and orientations are thinking and how they respond to unexpected situations. Set up with an ex? Uh-oh! Or worse, your former boss. It happens. What happens next might just give you the perfect idea for a character pairing or a dialogue exchange.



And you might even use the column format to tell a story. Short story writer Barb Goffman’s award-winning “Dear Emily Etiquette,” originally published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, unfolds through a woman’s letters to a columnist and the replies. It’s hilarious and inventive.



“It’s a good thing it takes all kinds,” my mother used to say. “Because there are all kinds.” Writers are always on the hunt for more kinds of people and their troubles, and newspaper advice columns are a great way to find them.




Leslie Budewitz is a three-time Agatha Award winner and the best-selling author of the Spice Shop mysteries, set in Seattle, and the Food Lovers’ Village mysteries, inspired by Bigfork, Montana, where she lives. As Alicia Beckman, she writes moody suspense, making her debut with Bitterroot Lake in April 2021. Leslie is a national board member of Mystery Writers of America and a past president of Sisters in Crime.



Find out more about Leslie and her books at her website, www.LeslieBudewitz.com, where she also blogs for writers.

September 19, 2014

Cozying Up to Murder


By Leslie Budewitz


When I say I write cozy mysteries, some readers light up. “My favorite kind,” they say. Others squint and tilt their heads, asking, “What’s that?”

You all know the traditional mystery—think Agatha Christie, whose mysteries feature a Belgian detective, a sharp-eyed spinster, and a dashing couple of spy-catchers. One modern incarnation is the cozy. It’s the comfort food of the mystery world, the mac & cheese. And who doesn’t love that now and again? (Or carbonara if you’re Italian, like my protagonist’s mother.) No graphic sex or violence; lots of graphic food.

Okay, so they don’t all involve food. Some involve knitting. Or librarians or booksellers, psychics or museum directors. Or the owners of haunted houses and hotels.

But no FBI agents or bomb squads—at least, not as protagonists, unless he or she is retired and running a fudge shop. (In Sheila Connolly’s Museum Mysteries, her protagonist dates an FBI agent named James Morrison. Cozy writers love to play with names.)

The setting is typically a small town—my Jewel Bay, Montana, Janet Bolin’s Elderberry Bay, Pennsylvania, or Barbara Ross’s Busman’s Harbor, Maine. (Bodies of water are not required, but they do set a certain tone.) A cozy can also be set in an urban neighborhood or community: the capital environs in Julie Hyzy’s White House Chef Mysteries, Greenwich Village in Cleo Coyle’s Coffeehouse Mysteries, or the museum world Sheila Connolly’s characters inhabit.

Regardless of the rural or urban setting, the murder is a shock that disturbs the natural order. An amateur sleuth—typically female—is drawn in by the personal nature of the crime, and uses her skills and connections to solve it.

Not everyone likes the term. Carolyn Hart, a goddess in the mystery world (and a past president of Sisters in Crime, which calls former leaders goddesses), asks, “How cozy is it to die in agony from poison, knowing your killer is among your intimates, but dying without knowledge of the culprit?” Not cozy at all—downright terrifying—but in my opinion, the term is cheekily ironic for exactly that reason.

There is an official investigation, of course, run by law enforcement. But our amateur sleuth hears and sees things the police can’t. She knows the community—she and her shop, cafĂ©, or gallery are often at its center. As a result, she may be convinced that the police are focused on the wrong person—maybe her, or someone she’s close to. She may fear they will act too quickly or fail to take seriously the clues she uncovers. They may find her helpful—or try to stop her from interfering.

Ultimately, in the cozy, both professional and amateur detectives are essential, because they serve different functions. The professionals’ job is to restore external order, through the legal system. They can’t succeed without her, despite their initial reluctance. By giving her help, she demonstrates the triumph of the individual over evil. Her involvement in righting a wrong restores balance to the community. She restores social order.

That’s what a cozy is about: community. How it’s formed, how it’s damaged, how it’s restored.

And of course, how it eats.
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Leslie Budewitz is the national best-selling author of Death al Dente, first in the Food Lovers' Village Mysteries set in northwest Montana, and winner of the 2013 Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Crime Rib, the second in the series, was published by Berkley Prime Crime on July 1, 2014. Assault and Pepper, her Seattle Spice Shop Mysteries will debut in March 2015. Also a lawyer, Leslie won the 2011 Agatha Award for Best Nonfiction for Books, Crooks &Counselors: How to Write Accurately About Criminal Law & Courtroom Procedure (Quill Driver Books), making her the first author to win Agatha Awards for both fiction and nonfiction. For more tales of life in the wilds of northwest Montana, and bonus recipes, visit her website and subscribe to her newsletter. Website: www.LeslieBudewitz.com   
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