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"What a great
publication! It's so varied and interesting!"
I just saw
"Sylvia," the film about poet Sylvia Plath who ended up
locking her children in their bedroom, sealing the door, then sticking
her head in the gas stove. Gwyneth Paltrow did a superb job, as usual,
but the story left me drained. What a waste. An absolute common waste.
Yes, as the credits rolled, I remembered a tidbit that had struck me not
long after I began researching writers for the "Little-Known
Facts" section of this ezine: a great many writers commit
suicide.
Not exactly a ringing
endorsement for our profession, is it? Why do you suppose this is the
case? Does writing itself cause depression? Or do some writers lack the
proper equipment to excavate their dark unspoken areas?
I suspect it may be the
latter. We are at our most vulnerable when we write. If we decide to
share that vulnerability with the world, we must come fully prepared for
scrutiny. The main concern cannot be, Will they or won't they like my
work? The main concern has to be, How will I handle either
reaction?
Unfortunately, Sylvia didn't
have the support and hope we have available today. So promise me
this--if you ever feel "on the edge," as she called it, you
will run to someone. A friend, a family member, a man or woman of God, a
police station, a hospital, a suicide hotline or an online depression
forum. Go anywhere and ask for help! Let's put an end to suicidal
writers.
FOR YOUR RESEARCH
The FBI is about to celebrate its 97th year of public service.
Wondering what, exactly, this government agency investigates? Go
directly to the source here.
Setting up a murder? Go
here for everything you need to know about forensics.
Finally, your
temporary Freedom from Toil is here.
Online mysteries, games, books and
resources. For everyone who enjoys a mystery!
Now, without further
ado ... let the action begin!
Elizabeth Guy
Editor
The VERB
is published every
other Monday. It
is sent exclusively
to those who
requested and
confirmed a
subscription. To
manage yours,
please scroll down
to the bottom of
this ezine.
This issue was
published
under the
musical influence of
A cup of decaf tea is always
on my desk. It is my writing buddy, hot or cold. British decaf
with 1 1/2 spoons demarara sugar and lactaid milk.
Okay, so there's no there there. No
food value. But without the tea, my brain locks up and I can't
write.
Everything else--books, file folders, the
cup full of pens and pencils--is mere decoration.
Jane's
spring/summer books include two picture books--THE PERFECT
WIZARD: Hans Christian Andersen (Dutton), and GRANDMA'S
HURRYING CHILD (Harcourt), the anthology YEARS BEST SF
AND FANTASY FOR TEENS with Patrick Nielsen Hayden (Tor), a
YA novel POAY THE PIPER with Adam Stemple (Tor), and the
collection of my stories and essays and poems ONCE UPON A
TIME SHE SAID (NESFA Press published for the World Science
Fiction Convention.) Visit
her website!
In
the year 63 B.C., the freed slave Marcus Tullius Tiro became a secretary
to Cicero. One of his duties was to report the famous orator's speeches.
Over time, after listening to his boss as well as other Roman orators of
the day, Tiro noticed they repeated themselves. So he devised a simple system of
abbreviations in which a single sign represented a sentence. In this way, he could take down an
entire political speech.
This was the
beginning of stenography.
Since
then, many have improved and refined this basic system. From Dr. Timothie Bright,
who authored the first shorthand system published in the English language,
to John Robert Gregg who adapted the cursive, as opposed to the geometric, basis of
shorthand writing.
Modern shorthand began with the
introduction in 1913 of the stenotype machine, the most reliable and
flexible means yet devised for creating a verbatim record. By pressing one
or more keys at a time, reporters capture the sound of words in a phonetic
code, with each line of characters usually representing one sound or
syllable. Today, these notes are printed on a narrow paper tape and
captured in computer format.
Court reporters have been computerized
longer than the attorneys and the court systems they serve.
Use
red herrings to point readers in another direction. They will suspect the wrong
characters, thereby making the mystery harder to solve. And lots more
fun!
"The
amount of crime, treachery, murder, slow poisoning and general
infamy required by the halfpenny reader is something
terrible.”
~ Mary
Elizabeth was born in Soho, London.
~ She was the daughter of an
Irish mother and a Cornish solicitor who hovered perpetually on the brink of bankruptcy.
~ Around 1840,
mother Fanny discovered that father Henry had been having an affair.
She took Elizabeth and moved to St. Leonards-On-Sea in
East Sussex.
~ To help support her mother,
Braddon later embarked on
a career as a professional actress–a scandalous career for a
Victorian woman. From 1852 until early 1860 she toured the
theatres of Britain with a repertory company.
~ During this time she also wrote plays
and poems. Her play The Loves of Arcadia was performed
successfully at London's Strand Theatre.
~ While living at Beverley in Yorkshire,
squire John Gilby commissioned Braddon to write a book-length
poem about Garibaldi. Finding the poem difficult, she used her
spare time to write Three Times Dead, a thriller modeled
on the melodramatic plots of G. W. M. Reynolds and
written in the style of Charles Dickens.
~ The thriller
received dismal sales, but under the guidance of London publisher John Maxwell,
Braddon revised the book and reissued it as The
Trail of the Serpent. It sold 1,000 copies within a week.
~ In 1862, Braddon broke into the mainstream market with Lady Audley’s Secret.
It began serialization in the magazine Robin Goodfellow.
After
that periodical ceased publication, it continued in The
Sixpenny Magazine. Later in 1862 it appeared as a
"three-decker" (three-volume novel) and became an immediate success.
~ Lady Audley's Secret was
succeeded by Aurora Floyd. Another immediate best-seller.
This one elicited shock from most critics because of the scene in which
the beautiful heroine becomes passionately aroused while
horsewhipping a male stable hand.
~ In 1874
Braddon married John Maxwell, her publisher. In love for years,
they had been unable to marry because he could not
obtain a divorce from his mentally unstable wife. Aside from the
five
children Maxwell had from his first marriage, Braddon and Maxwell had six children of their
own.
~ Having made her name as a sensation novelist,
Braddon went on to write successfully in a variety of genres.
Many were detective novels, written during the
height of Sherlock Holmes' popularity.
~ Although her
novels were
savagely attacked by critics, Braddon continued to write. She
produced more than eighty books between 1860 and 1915, making
her one of the most popular and prolific
novelists of her age.
~ She lived to see a silent film version of
her Aurora
Floyd in 1913. Two years later, she died at Lichfield House in Surrey, England,
and was buried at Richmond Cemetery.
A good mystery is
welcomed in all stories, in all genres. Nothing like a deep dark
secret or a tall handsome stranger to rev up the ol' readership, eh?
Folks realize the juicy resolution won't come immediately, and they
are perfectly willing to wait.
This sort of understanding, however,
doesn't apply to the lead character. Readers want to know, up front,
whose story they've stepped into, and why they should care. So don't
be coy. As soon as your baby steps one foot on stage, introduce him
to the crowd!
Example: A man crawled out of a truck with no mind to the traffic coming
from his left or right. He crossed the street with eyes poised dead
ahead at Dotty's Chicken Restaurant as if he were the only cowboy in
the one-horse town.
Cleaned up: Duke Barkley crawled out of
his truck with no mind to the traffic coming from his left or right.
He crossed the street with eyes poised dead ahead at Dotty's Chicken
Restaurant as if he were the only cowboy in the one-horse town.
Example: A slim middle-aged woman stepped off the plane in Vegas at
exactly six o'clock. She went straight to the casinos even though
her daddy had always told her gambling was a sin.
Cleaned up: Ethel Purcell stepped off the
plane in Vegas at exactly six o'clock. She went straight to the
casinos even though her daddy had always told her gambling was a
sin.
Example:
The ambulance arrived, and he stepped out. The one with black eyes
and flat lips. The one that looked like he hadn't smiled since he
was four.
Cleaned up:
The ambulance arrived, and Jackie
Wheeler stepped out. He had black eyes and flat lips, looking like
he hadn't smiled since he was four.
Uncertain
of a piece of your writing?
Send it to us
and we'll clean it up in a future
issue.
PREVIOUS SURVEY
Where does your
current writing take you?
Spiraling into the past - 71% Hovering in the
present - 3% Leaping into the future - 26%
"I live
in the past, figuratively speaking, so naturally my stories do too. I
wish I could literally go back." - Pamela Ward
"Spiraling
into the past. I've locked onto the era of World War II, and can't
seem to let go of it." - Theodore Hampton
"My
story takes place now, in present day. But I'm writing it in past
tense!" - Marta Moss
CHALKBOARD
Here's a chance to show off your
writing!
Send us an excerpt of which you are especially proud. If it's chosen, we'll publish it here in a future issue.
Approximately 500 words. Any genre. You, of course, retain all rights.
It will remain in The VERB archives until you ask us to remove
it.
Subject:
CHALKBOARD submission
(Feel free to include a bio.)
SILENCE BE NOT GOLDEN by April L. Payne
Madison brushed the tears from her cheeks as she spread
the fine linen tablecloth
on a table that didn't even need the
leaf this year.
For years the two branches of the family had celebrated together.
In-laws from both sides joined in. Now, Madison would be sharing
her holiday with only her husband's mother and sister, and
already it felt empty. She missed the idea of sharing the holiday
with Mom, and finally said so to Gwen, but Gwen just emphasized the
need to spend time with people, and who knew how long Madison's
mother-in-law had? Gwen would not be bringing her family or their
mother to Christmas. Madison was on her own. So much for the new
dishes she had purchased to accommodate the larger gathering, the
dishes she had wanted so much to share with everyone.
Sighing,
Madison stared out the window watching as the winter winds blew
dried leaves across the lawn. To think, she'd had the gardener pay
special attention to cleaning up the yard this week. She wanted
the house to look its best for her company, now Nature was
fighting her. She smiled grimly at her reflection. Once, years
ago, she had expected to forge new traditions, now she felt too
old for such change to come all at once, especially when no clear
cut reason was given. An empty chair over time, one could learn to
accept. But to know half the table was off partying somewhere else
... biting her lip she was determined to get past these
feelings of bitterness and resentment.
Why was Gwen
doing this? Gwen, who never shared what was really in her heart
for fear she would appear weak in front of others. It was all
nonsense. Madison brushed the tears from her cheeks as she spread
the fine linen tablecloth on a table that didn't even need the
leaf this year. She placed the arrangement of flowers in the
center, candlesticks at either side, then walked over to the server,
drawing out the place settings. Her fingertips made contact with
hand-stamped place cards left over from happier times and she burst
into tears. Dad's name was on top.
That's when
it hit her. How utterly ridiculous it was to cut family members
off from each other. Gwen was behaving, rather sadly, so much like
their great-grandmother had done after the death of her husband.
She'd cut the family off from their father's relatives, for fear
they would stand in judgment on how she raised her six children.
Madison still did not know that branch of the family. No one did
to this day. What was it Gwen wished to hide?
Drawing up
another chair, she finished setting out the places and hurried
about getting the turkey stuffed, the potatoes peeled and the
gravy made. When at last the doorbell rang, Madison presented a
smile and warm greetings for her guests. The house was filled with
familiar holiday noise, the football game flashing from the wide
screen, the sound of chatter from the kids. Pot lids rattled an
aromatic promise of culinary delights to come.
These days, computers have become the preferred medium for most writers. With a few clicks of the mouse, we are able to delete, rewrite, cut and paste with a speed and ease never
imagined before with a typewriter, let alone pad and pen. But due
to the intimidating nature of this vast writing tool, some
of its benefits remain idle. Never fear! My husband Jim Guy,
a certified computer genius, is here to help.
On
occasion I’m asked by the editor of this ezine to offer her
information about how a computer can fail, or other aspects of how
computers behave or work so she can bring realism to her stories.
Bringing
written realism and life where there hasn’t been any is more art
than I can comprehend, but reflecting on computers and crime-solving
is not. So in this issue of mysteries, maybe I can offer some
information about computers that would help a writer weave a story
into and out of computers in a credible way.
The
law can track your Internet activity. It takes a court order for
an ISP to open up the activity logs of a person’s Internet
trails (an ISP is the company that your computer calls to connect
to the Internet).
Recently,
when a pregnant Missouri woman was found dead with her baby cut
out of her stomach her on-line trail was followed by detectives to
a discussion site regarding her business. Here, they identified
her screen name, found discussions with people whom they
reverse-traced. Of these people who had discussions with the dead
woman, it wasn’t hard to find a woman, Lisa Montgomery, who
asked to meet the afternoon of the killing. Further, inside a fog
of non-detail and lies, Lisa Montgomery later called her husband
to say she’d had a baby.
Which
of the above required a court order? None of it, actually. Using
moderate to little skill anyone can detect where previous folks
have browsed, what they have done at each web site, and even learn
screen names. It probably takes the records of the ISP to make
stronger court cases, or provide alibis, by tying dates and times
to visiting a web site.
Why
is it so easy to see where someone has gone on the Internet? Web
browsers keep every file, picture and every web page stored on the
hard drive. When you know where to go and how to access these
files, a lot can be pieced together. All you need is access to the
computer.
Can
someone hijack a computer so they see what’s on the screen as if
they’re sitting in front of it? Yes, and they don’t have to be
nearby either (although it’s easier to be nearby). Packet
sniffing software can be used to watch text and other data flowing
from and to a specific computer. That’s one way. There are
others.
When
a file is erased from a hard drive, is it gone? No! Actually, the
file remains. Hard drives have a table of contents that is called
a File Allocation table. When a file is erased or deleted, the
entry in the table is hidden, not even removed. The file itself
remains in pristine condition.
Your
hero is, of course, smart enough to have software to wipe out
their Internet trails, and wipe clean their hard drive. No
self-respecting hero would be careless. Your hero may also carry
their secret and save-the-world files around on a password
encrypted thumb drive that is reasonably accessible by any
computer in the world except those that are more than seven years
old. Their thumb drive could resemble any innocent-looking thing
to keep it from being recognized by the soldiers of evil.
Thanks to the Internet,
televised trials and TV shows such as CSI, mystery readers have
become highly sophisticated detectives. They know procedure, jargon and
what can and cannot kill a person. Poor research in any of these areas
could cause a book to go flying across the room.
This, of course, forces mystery writers to
stay on their toes. They not only have to provide the gory details, they
have to get them right.
Check your knowledge in the field of
murder. Answer True or False to the statements below.
1. "Blunt Head
Trauma"is the result of a severe
blow to the head.
2. Alcohol works as an
antifreeze in the human bloodstream. It's the best way to save a person
who has been pushed into a frozen lake.
3. A hospital's Code Blue team
consists of ICU and ER nurses.
4. Cyanide can be absorbed
through the skin, inhaled through the air or ingested in a drink, killing within
a matter of minutes.
5. A heart attack and angina
are not the same things.
6. Preventing a Type 1
diabetic from getting insulin could lead to death.
7. Fingerprints can be lifted
from human flesh as long it's done before the body is washed.
8. Asphyxia by pillow
suffocation leaves absolutely no evidence.
9. If a victim is shot several
feet away, the entrance wound would be smaller than the bullet. If the
victim is shot at close range, the wound would be larger than the bullet.
10. When crime scene
technicians must work near a decomposing body, they first freeze the body
to kill the smell.
1. True.
2. False ~
Alcohol actually increases heat loss.
3. False ~ A
hospital's Code Blue team typically consists of ICU and ER nurses, ER
physician, a respiratory technician and other ancillary personnel.
4. True.
5.True.
6. True.
7. False ~
Fingerprints can be lifted from human flesh as long it's done within an
hour or two of the murder.
8. False ~ All
asphyxiated victims will have small bright red spots inside the pink
membranes surrounding the eyes.
9. True.
10. False ~ When
crime scene technicians must work near a decomposing body, they rub
VapoRub on their upper lip to mask the smell.
"Upstairs,
the hallway was completely dark. The moon must be behind a
cloud, Nancy thought as she felt along the hallway for the
entrance to her room. She couldn't even see the door.
Suddenly something caught Nancy's
eye. A small yellow light was flickering at the end of the long
hall. Nancy peered into the darkness. Was the light coming
toward her?
Nancy inched down the hall
toward the light. It was definitely coming closer to her. It
looked like the flicker of a candle. "Hello?" she
called out softly.
There was no answer. But
the light stopped moving.
"Who's there?"
Nancy asked.
The flame quivered, then
went out.
-
CAROLYN KEENE Nancy Drew
The Mystery at Magnolia Mansion