Laura Lippman’s Plot Kit — now with extra glue!

I recently met a (lovely, talented, gracious) woman who said (kindly, sincerely): “It must be fun, being a mystery writer, and having the plot all done.”

Even as I nodded and smiled and said how much I love my life as a writer, I patted my pockets, looking futilely for my magic plot wand. Perhaps I had a kit, like the one I bought at the Museum of Natural History, on my first-ever trip to New York? It was a plastic model of a Baltimore Oriole and, as it turned out, putting it together was sheer hell on earth. I never did finish the durn thing. Too much gluing, not enough painting. A plot-writing kit, could it be developed, would probably have the same problem. Oh, it looks so pretty on the box, put together, but there is too much gluing (hard, grubby, smelly), not enough painting (delicate, satisfying, fun).

I know there are writers who have the entire plot done; I even have friends who claim this distinction. And, in fact, I have quite a bit of it figured out. But what I never know is how I’m going to transmit all this information. In fact, to stagger through a book, I often have to imagine that I’m a reporter again, working in the narrative form.

Right now, I’m mired in next year’s book. I have a long take slugged “Duh,” and nine-ish chapters. (I’d typically have more, but I lost a month to writing a novella, to be published this fall.) I have no idea how I’m going to convey the information in “Duh” to the book-in-progress. That’s why I keep folders with each draft because I can go back and see how lost I was a year ago, to the day. Yep, I was flailing.

So then I jump ahead in time and look at the book itself, which – through the magic of the Internet – you can, too. (You’ll have to cut-and-paste this link, http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780061128875/Another_Thing_to_Fall/index.aspx, until I figure out why it keeps going to Jessical Seinfeld’s Decepetively Delicious.) But there are no answers there, unless you count putting sweet potatoes in brownies as an answer, not for plotting. I don’t remember how I got from draft one to draft five, only that I did.

Meanwhile, you can also count down the days and hours until it goes on sale. Another link to cut and paste: http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780061128875/Another_Thing_to_Fall/index.aspx. (Code-savvy folks, feel free to make these work in the comments section.)

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15 thoughts on “Laura Lippman’s Plot Kit — now with extra glue!

  1. “One of my favorite quotes is from Harlan Ellison, who got so sick and tired of people asking where he got his ideas from that he started answering, ‘I get them from a service in Schenectady. They send a six-pack every week.’ ”

    David: I had someone in a writing class I taught in NC ask me this (no lie!): Where can I buy a book that will give me all the ideas I’ll ever need?

    After I quit laughing at this person, loudly, couldn’t help myself, I said, “I get a lot of my ideas by reading the police blotter in the newspaper, then asking myself, ‘Now why in heck would somebody do something THAT stupid?’ “

    Plots, on the other hand, are a little harder to come by. The story is what you’re telling, the plot is what the heck happens and why. And plot is the hardest to get right…because it has to be dense but not impenetrable; nearly impossible, yet possible; creative, yet not derivative. etc etc etc. SO when I sit down in front of my keyboard, I almost use what writing teachers call “prompts”, i.e. those police blotter reports, and just start typing as if I were the cop on the scene. Got a few stories sold that way.

    Plot…plot….hm….wonder if there’s a Magical Spell Harry Potter could come up with?? <G>

    BTW, Sleuthfest 08 starts tomorrow. Hope to see some of you there!

  2. It’s funny that so many people ask where ideas come from. Ideas are the easy part; everybody’s got a bushelful. It’s making them into something people will want to hear about that’s tough.

    Although on the TV series of THE ODD COUPLE, Felix was a photographer, in Neil Simon’s play, he’s a newswriter for radio. When he tells the Pigeon sisters what he does for a living, one of them asks, “Where do you get your ideas?”

    Felix looks dumbfounded for a moment, then answers, “From the news.”

    “Oh, yes. Of course.”

  3. No one would call me code-savvy, but this doesn’t seem like a tall order:

    Laura’s fabulous new book, <a href=”http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780061128875/Another_Thing_to_Fall/index.aspx”>Another Thing to Fall,</a> has a cover that suggests <i>drowning</i> might be a big plot point. As for <a href=”http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780061128875/Another_Thing_to_Fall/index.aspx”>that second URL,</a> it seems to be identical to the first. Code-savvier, take it away!

    ON EDIT: OK, I totally muffed “open in new window,” which is beyond my personal savvy. Mea culpa.

  4. Dang it, Sandra — this is going to scuttle the infomercial I plan to do with Jack Pendarvis. (We were going to model it after the rotisserie chicken ones, or the “Magic Bullet,” those little choppers that can make anything in five minutes, as long as you’ve already done 30 minutes of prep.)

  5. One of my favorite quotes is from Harlan Ellison, who got so sick and tired of people asking where he got his ideas from that he started answering, “I get them from a service in Schenectady. They send a six-pack every week.”

    The scary thing is, some people believe him.

  6. I know lots of writers hate that question, but I don’t mind it. I think it’s an opportunity to help dispel some myths about fiction — that it’s all roman a clef, or that every character has a real life inspiration, just to cite two examples.

    (Recently, the City Paper had a piece on a documentarian who attacked The Wire for not including a note at the end that explained what was real and what was made up. I guess it’s a compliment to the show that people keep thinking it’s a docu-drama, but it’s not. I mention this because it’s a larger version of what every fiction writer faces, even science fiction writers.)

  7. I never mind either. Sometimes it’s fun to explain what came from where, and here’s all the spit and baling wire and I-don’t-know-what-that-sticky-substance-is-and-probably don’t-want-to-know, but see, it all holds together. (Hopefully.)

    We’re doing a play right now–”One Good Marriage” by Sean Reycraft–that describes a wedding reception with a horrific ending. (To say more would spoil it beyond repair. And yes, it’s a funny play. Dark, but funny.) Thanks to emailing with the playwright, I love being able to explain that yes, even that was inspired by true stories. Most people glaze over with shock and horror. (Dark, but funny. And poignant. But mainly funny.)

  8. Heh. Plot kit.

    Reminds me of the Nancy Drew Girl Detective Kit that Penny Warner has put together to go with her Nancy Drew Handbook. It’s got everything: fake glasses to create a disguise, magnifying glass, chapstick (I’m not sure why).

  9. Ok, laugh all you want, but you’ve got to admit that writers use formulas. It may not be directly related to plot, but I’ve stopped reading several mystery writers (not the great Ms.Lippman, of course) because I got sick of the formula. When I can predict what is coming based on what happened in the last several books…well, what’s the point?

  10. There are definitely formulaic books, but I think that is a problem that truly transcends genre. And, sometimes, the formula is the draw, strange to say, although usually not in crime fiction. (When I read books that could be categorized as romance, I know who’s going to end up with whom, I just don’t know how. Did NOT see the fatal lightning strike coming in my current read.)

    The frustrating thing is that even bad books are hard to write. The speediest writer I’ve ever met claimed to write his books in one draft, which took forty hours. (And you know what? While he’s exchanged the strong critical rep of his early career for commercial success, critics still tend to give him his due as a entertainer.) Now, I’m sure there are some peopel here who think, “Forty hours, what’s the big deal, that means a person could write 52 novels a year.” Yes, but would you, as the saying goes.

    Newspaper journalism can be one of the most formulaic genres around, whether you’re using the inverted pyramid or a linear narrative form. And anyone who has ever pulled a 12-hour shift, writing and reporting just 2,000 words, knows it can be absolutely draining. Put in one week of covering a fast-moving story and you will be exhausted.

    Again, this isn’t a defense of formula. I’ve never met a writer who works consciously from one, however. In fact, I think beginning writers tend to blunder into formula more often. I know I did!

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