Patriotic muse

Jon Montgomery makes me proud to be Canadian.

Tears streamed down my face when I watched the gold medal skeleton racer leap to the podium after one of the most exciting event finishes of the 2010 Olympics - at least that I've seen. His enthusiasm was infectious - and so was his Canadian pride.

I've spent a lot of time across the border, honing my skills as a writer and networking with some amazing people in the publishing world. I can get caught up in it, you know, and sometimes dream of living in New York. But then I come home and I'm reminded of what it really means to live in the "true North strong and free."

Jon Montgomery is a patriot, and in all of his interviews, I've felt connected to him, somehow, as though the country has shrunk and he might have been my neighbour at some point. When he talks about Canada and what this gold medal means to him, his sexy eyes twinkle. He's easy-going, confident, friendly, a team player. And an excellent representative for this country. (Not to mention, easy on the eyes.)

His dedication - and patriotism - make him an easy choice for this week's muse, but it is perhaps another characteristic of familiarity, however unorthodoxed, that sealed the deal for me.

One of my critique partners is writing an incredible book featuring a sexy, laid-back, earthy guy by the name of Sebastien. She's an incredible writer, and when she finishes her novel I have no doubt women all over the world are going to tumble head over heels for Sebastien.

Every time Jon Montgomery came on my TV screen or popped up in the visual media, I couldn't shake this powerful feeling of familiarity - until it hit me: Jon Montgomery reminds me of Sebastien. The physical details aren't quite right, but even my crit partner admits his mannerisms are "spot on."

So as tribute to a hero - for this country and my crit partner's book - I'm thrilled to cast Jon Montgomery in this week's role of muse. Almost as excited as I am for my next crit meeting.

The Book In My Bag Today: Ceremony In Death, J.D. Robb

Book 15 - Ash

Ash is not your typical fairy tale - though at first blush, you'd assume so.

Instead, Malinda Lo has taken a page from Anne Rice's book and turned a classic fairy tale into something...unique. But for young adults, so if you assumed I meant something akin to Rice's erotic version of Sleeping Beauty, your pulse can return to normal.

Ash is similar in structure to Cinderella - the evil stepmother and her two spoiled daughters, Ash (Aisling) forced to tend to their every whim, the Prince's hunt for a bride, the great ball... But there is no glass slipper or fairy godmother, per say. There is Sidean, and a huntress, and both have interesting - and complex - roles in Ash's life.

Though I finished Ash is almost one sitting, I'm weirdly undecided about whether I actually liked the book. The writing in some places is beautiful and poetic - and ironically, similar in style to Anne Rice. I often call my friend Rocky the "King of Metaphors." Malinda Lo could be crowned the queen. Many of the descriptions allowed the images to pop from the page and I enjoyed the wordplay. Lo can write, that's for sure.

I wanted to love Sidean - but so few words were devoted to him that other than a first introduction to his beauty (which was oddly reminiscent of an Avatar character), I didn't have an opportunity to really get to know him. Similarly with Kaisha, the huntress. My sympathy for Ash was not a result of Lo's character development, but rather the similarities between her and Cinderella.

At the end of each chapter, I told myself to stop reading - but something would compel me to turn the page. I'd begin each scene with hope - something must happen, right? - but felt disappointed in almost every instance, particularly at the end, which left me unsatisfied.

There's so many great young adult books out there that I wanted this to be one of them. The cover sparked my interest, the write-up drew me in - but the author lost me after the few pages and it was a concerted struggle to make it to the finish. Aside from my promise to complete every book I start this year, part of me pushed onward with the hope of a larger-than-life, redeeming finale.

No such luck.

Book 14 - Evil at Heart

I've officially entered a mourning period.

No, really. It seems silly when I think about it, but when I turned the last page of Chelsea Cain's third in the Gretchen Lowell serial-killer series, Evil at Heart, I couldn't stop the pang of emptiness that filled my chest. Yikes - a bit dramatic there, huh?

It isn't that I'll never see Gretchen again. As Karen pointed out, Gretchen is Cain's "money maker" and though the other characters have important and compelling roles, the star of the show is Gretchen. I'm confident she'll be recast in Cain's next book - though I'm not sure when I can expect its release.

Maybe that's the issue. Because whenever it is, isn't soon enough.

I'm not alone in my obsession, as Evil at Heart can attest. Several people in the book are wearing the very same "Run Gretchen" t-shirt I'm begging my handsome husband to buy for me, and, gasp, some of them are sipping their daily java from the I'd kill for a cup of coffee mug I think every thriller writer should own.

But at least I haven't started my own Gretchen fan site (aside from several blog posts about a fictional serial killer) - and in Evil at Heart, there are more than four hundred web links devoted to an unhealthy adoration of one of fiction's creepiest - and most beautiful - killers. These sites, naturally, inspire some copycat killings and lure (still) tortured cop Archie Sheridan from the loony bin and back into the field. He's accompanied, of course, by Susan, whose hair is now purple. It must be her colour of power because she's less passive in this book, and Cain's Nancy Drew influences are seeping through.

I can't divulge much of the plot - I wouldn't want to ruin your experience. But in essence, Cain makes a powerful statement about pop culture and society's obsession with celebrities, even those who should not be celebrities. Making stars out of criminals isn't new - I have several movies on my DVD shelf excusing a variety of illegal behaviour - but Cain makes it seem new. Gretchen's face is on billboard posters, on bus advertisements, on TV commercials for the next episode of America's Sexiest Serial Killers (is that a real show?) - it's no wonder Archie can't get her out of his heart, and why the world seems smitten by the Beauty Killer.

As with Heartsick and Sweetheart, there is an apt amount of blood and gore throughout the novel, and some truly amazing parts near the end. Cain has a knack for horror. The subplot is strong, particularly since the "other" murders are executed with Gretche-esque flair. There are the trademark twists that never cease to amaze me, and the beautifully constructed sentences that make me weep with envy. The ending is crisp. The emotions are brilliantly evoked. In short, it's spectacular.

The whole series is incredible.

And now it's over. Finished. Kaput.

For only Cain knows how long. Sigh.

I'm struggling with what to read next. I know that Cain is not the only writer in the world to inspire such literary passion, but after reading all three of her books so close together, I'm trying to decide whether to switch genres altogether or stick with thriller - especially since I've absorbed so much about thriller writing craft just from reading about Gretchen. (My Mario seems like such a pansy by comparison...)

To say Cain's novels are perfectly written would be a lie - what book is? But to suggest they are written with brilliance simply isn't saying enough.

So, RUN Gretchen. As fast as you can.

Feeding the muse

As I gear up for my critique group meeting tonight with my two amazing critique partners, I'm feeling a tad guilty about my lack of productivity as of late. The pages I'm diligently sending each week are not fresh pieces from either of my series' in progress, but rather the revised and edited chapters from a middle grade book I wrote years ago.

In fact, other than this blog, I've done no actual writing for quite some time.

The truth is, the final push on Absolution left me a little burnt out and it seemed easier to block out the voices than to listen to them whine. So, instead of churning out those obligatory daily word-counts, I've been feeding my muse - which has provided inspiration and, perhaps predictably, new-found desire to write.

So what does a muse eat? I'm not sure about yours, but the following diet seems to satisfy mine, no matter what avatar face he's wearing this week.

1. Reading. Not just any books, though. Books written by authors who make me go "I want to write like that!" Or better still, books that make me fall in love with characters - do I need to remind you of my Gretchen Lowell obsession? (Uh, Karen, did you drop that little "Run Gretchen" t-shirt hint to my hubby?) My current favourite author is Chelsea Cain and when I'm not cursing her talent, I'm ordering my muse to eat up that talent. Rawr.

2. Exercising. I admit I've gone a tad loco in this regard. Between spin classes, aquasize adventures, and strength training with Karen, and boxing and racquetball with Sue, I've also been doing Body Rock, that crazy program I blogged about the other day. It's an exhausting schedule, but unlike when I worked out at Curves, I have energy. Lots of energy. Enough to share with my muse - which fuels creativity, inspiration and productivity. Woot!

3. Family time. Apparently my muse does not always want to be alone. Me either. Writing can be a solitary activity, but there are times, like now, I'm not content to hide in my dungeon (even though my husband built me a very nice dungeon). We had an excellent Valentine's Day - swimming, heart-shaped pizza, ice cream cake, movies. My muse liked that. Me too. We might have to try that more often, sans the ice cream cake though.

4. Jack Bauer and the Winchester Boys. Ahem. Okay, maybe the eye candy is for my benefit, but in truth, I consider both shows (24 and Supernatural in case you have no idea (gasp) of the aforementioned Adonis'...ah, men) to be well scripted and inspirational. My muse appreciates the sudden plot twists and character development. I appreciate...oh yeah, you already know that.

5. Diet Coke / Coke Zero. Without the whiskey, yes. Old habits die hard. Besides, my muse likes it. Sorry Sue.

6. Music. Stephanie Myers was on to something when she found the band Muse (pictured above) for inspiration. I'm kind of partial to Adam Lambert these days, but when the muse isn't in the mood to dance, or sing, Muse is excellent for background noise.

7. Plotting. I know, right? Last month, heck, even last week sometime, I would never have admitted to this, but creating an outline for my book has provided my muse with a "loose" roadmap. I've been researching key plot points, writing description lists, and developing characters - and my muse is just gobbling all of that up. So much so, he's almost full.

And wouldn't you know, with his inspirational hunger now satisfied, my muse is starting to stir again. Actually, with all this new creative energy, he can barely sit still. Which means, sigh, I should be back on writing track any day now. I'm excited to start scratching that itch.

Are you taking care of your muse?

The Book In My Bag Today: Evil at Heart, Chelsea Cain

Just this side of creepy

Did you know that if a crow - yes, the bird - doesn't trust you, it won't forget your face?

Am I the only one creeped out by that?

According to recent studies, as published in New Scientist magazine, January 2010, wild crows can recognize individual human faces and hold a grudge for YEARS against people who have first treated them badly.

And to think, my Mom used to tease me for naming the crow my favourite bird! At least I know there won't be any bird attacks in my near future.

The Book In My Bag Today: Evil at Heart, Chelsea Cain

Book 13 - Sweetheart

Gretchen escapes. Nuff said.

Okay, not enough said. Not nearly enough.

In Heartsick, the book where I first met serial murderess Gretchen Lowell, and if I'm to be honest with myself began my obsession with Gretchen Lowell, Chelsea Cain introduces a creepy relationship between a tortured cop and a beautiful killer. In that book, Gretchen is behind bars, their banter reminiscent of Starling/Lecter in Silence of the Lambs.

In Sweetheart, Gretchen's out.

Oh. My. God.

If Chelsea Cain were teaching a writing course on character development, I'd move mountains to get to it. I assumed that with Gretchen "out there" killing people, doing her thing, I'd move from loving her to being disgusted. Not the case. My obsession with her has only deepened. That's testament to Cain's skill.

As with Heartsick, Gretchen and Archie's codependency is only one thread of a complex story line and it is also the most compelling. But Cain also gives more depth to the supporting cast of investigative reporter Susan, her unique mother Bliss, Archie's ex-wife Debbie, and fellow cop Henry. Since Gretchen isn't interested in any of them, it would be tempting to ignore them as well - if not for the smooth infusion of each of their crisis points into the overall plot.

To divulge more of the story would spoil the book and I offer the usual disclaimer: there's swearing and there's sex, there's gore and torture. And there's Gretchen. Sweetheart is not for the faint of heart.

Cain has fast become one of my favourite authors, and Sweetheart now ranks among my top books. I have no doubt I'll be reading it again and again, not just because I'm obsessed with Gretchen, but also to study how Cain creates amazing characters and has an awe-inspiring ability to draw out emotions I shouldn't have.

But first, I need to read Evil at Heart, the last (for now) installment of Gretchen and Archie's tragic love story.

PS - Sorry for the lack of "hot muse Monday" but if I could have found a picture of a woman I though would do Gretchen justice, I might have used her as my muse avatar. Instead, I've asked last week's muse to start channeling Chelsea Cain's talent.

The Book In My Bag Today: Evil at Heart, Chelsea Cain

Book 12 - Deeper Than the Dead

First, a disclaimer. I love Tami Hoag. My Mom introduced me to her years ago and I've read every book she's written, always satisfied.

Unfortunately, Deeper than the Dead didn't quite do it for me.

The concept was cool. As the author note explains in the first couple of pages, the book is set in history - 1985. I'm an 80s kid, so the references to pop culture were a welcome addition to the story line. Also interesting, was the lack of forensic technology, forcing the characters to solve the crime with old fashioned police work.

Maybe that's why parts of the novel seemed to drag on. In today's world, we're used to gadgets and gizmos that help the police understand the crime scene faster, often resulting in a more efficient resolution. DNA technology, fingerprint databases and a whole host of other CSI-style tools were not yet fully developed in 1985 - which slowed the police work, and the pacing, considerably. Hoag did do a great job of infusing some of that technological gap into the story, though.

My primary issue has to do with character development - and in this book, there are many people to keep track of. Four kids, one with evil tendencies, a teacher, an FBI agent, a rogue cop, several parents, each with their own oddities and motives, a few missing women, and a sidekick for the protagonist. Several of these characters had point of view scenes (more than 6) and I found myself getting lost and never actually connecting with any of them. In particular, the youth point of view scenes seemed unrealistic, especially for the mid 80s.

The romance thread was also weak, and in my opinion, not believable. The relationship between Anne and Vince developed quickly and because the author had to tend to so many points of view, I never had an opportunity to feel their love blossom, let alone grow into what it ends up being.

Maybe I've been spoiled by Gretchen Lowell (the incredible serial killer in Chelsea Cain's book, HeartSick) but as far as serial killers go, the See-No-Evil murderer didn't get my heart racing. He was also a bit predictable - as was much of the plot. I had a good idea of the killer's identity early in the book, despite a whole rash of red herrings. And many of those sub plots were never actually resolved, which kind of ticked me off.

For the most part, Deeper than the Dead is a smooth read. Hoag can write, to which a list of #1 New York Times bestselling titles can attest, but there were some point of view violations that pulled me right out of the story, and the novel's climax wasn't nearly climactic enough. I raced through the final pages, mostly because I just wanted to finish the book and move on to something new.

Like Sweet Heart, the second book in Chelsea Cain's series about Gretchen.