Choosing a Title (Re-post)

 

The title of a book, along with its cover, is the writer's first chance to grab a reader's attention and tempt him to pick up the book. As I've mentioned before, the cover is pretty much out of my hands -- the Art Department and the Marketing Department at Random House deal with that. As for the title, I send in my idea for a title and so far, except in one case which I'll talk about later, the titles have been accepted.

In choosing a title, I look for something a bit tantalizing that, in some ways, reflects the content and tone of the book. And I usually check on Amazon to make sure that title hasn't been used recently.  Titles can't be copyrighted so I'm free, if I want, to call a book Gone with the Wind or The House at Pooh Corner. But instead, I rack my brains, trying to come up with something semi-original. 

It's not easy.

People often ask what me a particular title of mine "means." In the case of my first novel, Signs in the Blood, the answer is that I'm not exactly sure. I usually ask what they think it means and have gotten some terrific explanations, often involving horoscopes and/or planting by the signs as recommended by The Old Farmers' Almanac.

Alas, it's nothing that clever. As I recall, while I was writing Signs, I was researching the snake-handling Holiness religion that plays a large part in this novel and came across the phrase 'signs in the blood.' That sounds like a good title, I thought and made a note of it.


Unfortunately, I neglected to make a note of what it meant. And though I've looked, I've never found that passage again.  But what I think it means comes from the fact that folks of the Holiness church call themselves "signs-following believers." (These aren't horoscope signs but the signs mentioned in the Bible  -- "And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover," (Mark 16:17-18).)

So I suspect that 'signs in the blood,'  refers to the fact that these beliefs tend to be passed down in families.  Really, not much at all to do with the story I was telling. But nonetheless a mysterious sounding title.

 

Art's Blood was a mistake. I had the idea that I might try to use the word 'blood' in all my titles and, since this book had to do with art and artists, I came up with this rather lame pun -- art's blood -- heart's blood. It was meant as a working title, something to be replaced when I thought of a better one but my editor liked it so there it is.   I don't like it because punning titles tend to suggest a cozy, humorous mystery -- which this isn't. Ah, well . . .

By my third book, I'd abandoned the idea of always having  the word blood in the title. For one thing, a friend told me that the titles suggested slasher-type stories and for another thing, when I made a list of titles including blood, everyone of them had already been used recently, sometimes several times.

Besides, for once I had a great idea! I wanted to call this book The Booger Dance. That's the name of a Cherokee dance that plays an important part in this book, both actually and symbolically. And it's certainly memorable.

Unfortunately, both my agent and my editor reacted with horror to this proposal, feeling that such a title would have buyers hurrying away with averted eyes.

So, since my editor had suggested that this might be a good time to explore Elizabeth's past and perhaps uncover some old wounds . . .

In a Dark Season is pretty straightforward. It's set in November and a pivotal scene is on the Winter Solstice -- a dark season for sure. And the tone is rather dark as well. 

The Day of Small Things came from a Bible verse -- I was skimming through Bartlett's Quotations, looking for inspiration  and came across it.  Not the most inspired choice but I liked the sound.

Next year's book, Under the Skin,  deals with Elizabeth and her very different sister. The title comes from a poem by Kipling which contains the lines, "But the colonel's lady an' Judy O'Brady are sisters under the skin."

Here's an article about the original titles of ten famous novels. 

Trimalchio on West Egg ? Really?

Re-posting Re-reading

 

A post from a few years back of this. I miss Elizabeth and Birdie and the gang . . . but have no intention of writing another one. Sometimes it's good to know when you're done. 

I can remember nights in my workroom, struggling to meet a deadline, and I can remember when I first realized that I didn't want to do this forever. Six novels seemed like a respectable number. And I wanted to give Elizabeth a break from all the murders. So I did and plunged into researching the Shelton Laurel Massacre for what would be my last novel, And the Crows Took Their Eyes. But it's fun to look back . . .

 I found myself taking a notion to spend some more time with Miss Birdie and read her book -- The Day of Small Things. Of course I've read it before -- many times -- while I was writing it and re-writing it and proof-reading it over and over. But none of these are the same as just reading for fun -- with the writer/editor eye turned off. And enough time had passed that, at times I could forget I'd written it and just read . . .

I was so pleasantly surprised that I picked up Signs in the Blood  and read it. It was better than I remembered, if I say it myself.  Again there was that strange disconnect between reader and writer -- I kept coming across little family jokes and little odds and ends that are parts of my past . . .

As  I always say, Elizabeth isn't me -- but we share a lot -- Little Sylvie's cabin next door . . . the dogs . . .

She and Phillip sat on my blue bench . . .

In Art's Blood - yes, I kept on reading right through the rest of the books -- Elizabeth and Kyra make wreaths in her workshop -- John's workshop in my world . . .  as was, before the fire.

Old Wounds gets very close to my world -- Elizabeth and family live in this barn while they are building their house in 1984 -- just as my family lived in it in 1974 while building that same house . . .

(I hasten to add that, unlike my unruly Elizabeth, I was never tempted by a charming neighbor -- nor by a bedroom-eyed snake handling preacher either.)

Every time I go to town I drive past this brick building that is the home of the enigmatic Troll of In a Dark Season. 

And sometimes I kind of expect to hear mariachi music floating from Justin and Claui's house -- home to Elizabeth's Mexican farm hands Julio and Homero in Under the Skin.

Rereading these books was a surprising experience in that I became  the reader not the writer and I kept finding myself thinking, Why, that's just the way I'd say that or That sounds familiar only to realize suddenly, Well, duh . . .

I also realized that I am now (much) closer in age to Miss Birdie than Elizabeth (who was ten years younger than I when the first book came out in 2005. ) 

It was an interesting experience, reading right through those books that took over six years to produce -- reading right through them in less than two weeks. 

And now, I'm tempted to do it again . . .

Rosie's World (repost)

                                                        

Of course, many of you know that I base the Goodweather farm in the Elizabeth Goodweather Mysteries on ours. So, let's pretend for a moment, that we're in the setting for Old Wounds.

The top picture shows the barn (lower right) the Goodweathers lived in while building their house. To the left and a little above the barn is the chicken house (hard to see but important to the story.) Higher up is Elizabeth's house and to the right of that, you can make out Ben's cabin (or Little Sylvie's in Signs in the Blood). The multi-tiered garden starts just above the chicken coop.

                                         

  

The second picture is taken on the road that runs along the top of the pasture and into the woods. (We call it 'the New Road' as it was bulldozed for us only about 35 years ago. It doesn't actually go anywhere -- its purpose is mainly to provide a way to get the tractor or our little utility vehicle into the woods for firewood or for hauling fencing supplies.)

This is the road Elizabeth often takes a walk on and the big tree to the left is where the deer stand that the young Maythorn used as a spy post would have been. And this is where the young Rosemary followed her mother on a cold winter day, with an unwelcome result.

She trotted down the path, smiling to think how surprised her mother would be when she

appeared. A little way on and the path veered sharply as it wrapped around the mountainside. Just beyond that turn was one of the benches Pa had made for Mum so she could sit and look at the view. Maybe she would be there. Humming, Rosemary hurried on.

In the late eighties I (me, Vicki, not Elizabeth) used to walk our two Akitas on this path daily. They were large (over a hundred pounds each) dogs and, though lovely with people, completely murderous around any other animals (dogs, cats, chickens, etc.) So they had to be kept in the house and exercised on the leash. Once, when we had just hit this stretch of very uphill path, a squirrel ran across the road in front of us. Both dogs lunged at it, pulling me down, splat on my face. I hung on to the leashes like grim death and the dogs kept going, towing me behind them like a particularly inept water-skier. When finally, after they'd dragged me almost to the top of the hill, I managed to stop them and stand up, the top of my head was completely covered with dirt and leaf mold.

I digress. The last picture, if you'll look closely is of Froghead, the rock that sticks out of the pasture like a granite thumb, the place where Rosie first meets Maythorn. My boys gave it that name and it was a favorite hangout of theirs. Higher up the mountain above the house, is what they called the cave -- actually a little shelter under some huge boulders that lean against each other. This, of course, was the inspiration for Rosie and Maythorn's Cave of Two Sisters.                         

                                             

But, and some people have asked about this, there is no Mullmore, no faux-Tudor mansion on the other side of the ridge. I do use my imagination for some stuff!

Where Are They Now?

After writing a blog post at Christmas about Miss Birdie and Dorothy, I began to wonder what was going on with the rest of the gang. And so I began to sketch out a little outline of what Elizabeth et al are up to--nine years after Under the Skin, fifteen years after Signs in the Blood.

Elizabeth is 67. She is still making wreaths but has also returned to an abandoned hobby—painting. She is quite enjoying the absence of unexplained corpses in her life and is hoping that Rosemary and her husband will eventually move to the farm so she can see more of her grandchildren. Her dogs, Molly, Ursa, and James are gone but there is a new gang of rescues underfoot.

Phillip is 69. Happily retired from police work, he has discovered a talent for woodcarving and is a member of a crafts guild.  He and Elizabeth are still very much in love and often finish one another's sentences.

Laurel (39) still lives in Asheville. She has been in a relationship for the past six years with another artist. He is divorced and the father of two, Laurel continues to paint wild stuff but has begun doing exquisite watercolors too. She and Rosemary are collaborating on a series of children’s books that will probably be best sellers.

Rosemary is 43. She is still a professor at Chapel Hill and with her last book has a growing reputation as a novelist. Her husband (they married in 2013) is African American- also a novelist, with several bestsellers. They are very comfortable financially. They have 3 kids—Sam b. 2013, and the twins--Bethy and Hannah b. 2016. Rosemary is beginning to tire of the constraints of academia and is thinking about moving back to the farm. Her husband Joe says he'll be happy anywhere he has his family and a high speed internet connection.

Ben is 39. He and Amanda run the farm. They have one daughter who is 7. Elizabeth is enjoying her company.

Gloria is 64 and has remarried again.. She and Elizabeth are on good terms but rarely see each other.

Dorothy is 87 and still looking after others. Miss Birdie is 97 and slowing down a bit physically but not mentally. She was the focus of a recent documentary on Appalachian folk ways and finds various seekers of wisdom showing up on her front porch. She always makes them welcome with, 'Well, come right in and git you a chair."

Aunt Omie died at 94, falling off the roof of her chicken house.

Calven is 26. He and Mariposa Cruz plan to marry soon.

Julio and his family have a small place of their own nearby. Homero returned to Mexico.
.

Who have I left out?


I don't have plans for another Elizabeth novel but as I started making this little list, I realized that all these folks are still alive in my head. 

Re-Visiting . . .

After posting a visit with Miss Birdie back on Halloween, I found myself taking a notion to spend some more time with her and read her book  -- The Day of Small Things. Of course I've read it before -- many times -- while I was writing it and re-writing it and proof-reading it over and over. But none of these are the same as just reading for fun -- with the writer/editor eye turned off. And enough time had passed that, at times I could forget I'd written it and just read . . .

I was so pleasantly surprised that I picked up Signs in the Blood  and read it. It was better than I remembered, if I say it myself.  Again there was that strange disconnect between reader and writer -- I kept coming across little family jokes and little odds and ends that are parts of my past . . .

As  I always say, Elizabeth isn't me -- but we share a lot -- Little Sylvie's cabin next door . . . the dogs . . .

She and Phillip sat on my blue bench . . .

In Art's Blood - yes, I kept on reading right through the rest of the books -- Elizabeth and Kyra make wreaths in her workshop -- John's workshop in my world . . .

Old Wounds gets very close to my world -- Elizabeth and family live in this barn while they are building their house in 1984 -- just as my family lived in it in 1974 while building that same house . . .

(I hasten to add that, unlike my unruly Elizabeth, I was never tempted by a charming neighbor -- nor by a bed-room eyed snake handling preacher either.)

Every time I go to town I drive past this brick building that is the home of the enigmatic Troll of In a Dark Season. 

And sometimes I kind of expect to hear mariachi music floating from Justin and Claui's house -- home to Elizabeth's Mexican farm hands Julio and Homero in Under the Skin.

Rereading these books was a surprising experience in that I became  the reader not the writer and I kept finding myself thinking, Why, that's just the way I'd say that or That sounds familiar only to realize suddenly, Well, duh . . .

I also realized that I am now closer in age to Miss Birdie than Elizabeth (who was ten years younger than I when the first book came out in 2005. ) 

It was an interesting experience, reading right through those books that took over six years to produce -- reading right through them in less than two weeks. 

I've moved on to two more series -- binge re-reading -- and I'll talk about them another time.
Meanwhile, I apologize for the sudden appearance of that wretched Word Verification in the Comments -- Blogger is messing with me again. My settings are set at NO Word Verification but there it is. However, several folks have told me they just ignored it and their comments posted anyway . . .

Mysterious are the ways of Blogger . . .

Back by Popular Demand ?

No, not Elvis -- but Harice (whom I imagine as looking something like Elvis, but better.)

Harice, the bedroom eyed, snake handling preacher from my first book, Signs in the Blood.

"He was broad shouldered and slim hipped, with a wide, unexpectedly sensual smile that flashed white against the rich tan of his face."

He also had dark hooded eyes and he and Elizabeth were more than a little attracted to one another during the course of that book. And more than a few of my readers have asked me what happened to him. The other night in my writing class, during the break, Sallie presented me with a whole bunch of good reasons why I ought to bring him back.

And I thought, Why not? He does make an appearance in Birdie's forthcoming book, The Day of Small Things, but this Elizabeth book I'm working on now affords a very nice opportunity . . . oh, yes, a very nice opportunity for an interesting complication.

So I'm going to go with this idea. My editor, Herself, may disagree, of course, (some of you remember how she made me get rid of Myrna Lou in the Birdie book.) But I think this will work. And I'm kind of excited about it.

Another thing lots of folks have asked is if I've ever been to a snake handling church. The answer is no. But now, thanks to Mr. Google and You Tube, we can take a quick peek at a service in progress.

The Sister Thing

"Sisters never quite forgive each other for what happened when they were five."

Pam Brown

I spent yesterday working on the new book, Under the Skin -- Elizabeth's sister Gloria has come for an indefinite visit and Elizabeth is, somewhat to her (and to my) surprise, becoming a tad bitchy.

Now I don't have a sister so I have no personal experience to draw on. But that doesn't stop me -- I've never (knowingly) encountered a murderer either but still I write about them.

Of course there are sisters who are best friends and always have been. But when one is writing a novel, high on the list of Must Have's is CONFLICT. Not just one big conflict but lots of little ones as well. So, Elizabeth and Gloria -- two very different people with very different world views are bound to clash.

Also, as I mentioned just a month ago, I'm writing Elizabeth in first person -- getting really up close and personal. In the past, sometimes I've thought that Elizabeth was just a little too good to be true -- so balanced, so kind, so good natured, so . . . rational.

Well, there's nothing like being around a younger, slimmer, richer sister, who also likes to tell you how you should live your life, to bring out the inner female dog in a protagonist.

I'm finding it interesting.

A Shared View

"The three big windows framed what could have been a delicate Japanese ink drawing -- all muted colors and simple lines, with hazy mountaintops poking through the low-lying fog like islands in a pale gray sea of mist." (from Art's Blood, p.411)

Our eastern view again -- always changing, always gorgeous. In the morning the mist rises up from the river to produce lovely ephemeral scenes.

Being fortunate enough to live where I do, how could I not write about it? Elizabeth's house and farm are based on our house and farm -- 'write what you know,' they often say. And I have enough to remember already, with all these characters and pasts I've created; it's comforting to have to remember only (so far) that Elizabeth's house differs from ours in just two particulars. For one thing, Elizabeth has a mirror by her kitchen door (Signs in the Blood, p. 11). Hey, it was my first book and I hadn't known that it's considered cliched and amateurish to describe a character by having him or her look in a mirror. Sorry. The other difference is that Elizabeth's sofas are still denim-covered whereas our denim-covered sofas were trashed by the dogs and have been replaced by leather. But then we have six dogs while Elizabeth (a saner woman than I) has a modest three.

Something New

After my recent failure to send a holiday album of pictures to all recipients of my newsletter, The Goodweather Reports (too many, too large pictures-- some servers choked on them), I'm experimenting with this blog which seems to promise to let me add pictures at will. We'll see.

The picture above (taken from my bedroom window) is sunrise at the winter solstice. The sun has gone as far to the south as it can and now will begin its journey north, bringing with it longer days.

"Growing up in Florida and in the suburbs, she had never realized how the sun paced back and forth during the year, like a restless dog on a tether. During the winter it rose far to the southeast and skulked along the ridgeline, disappearing in mid-afternoon." ( from Signs in the Blood, the first Elizabeth Goodweather novel.