The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek, the second book in the Tales from Butternut Creek series, will be out Tuesday, November 20th–which is TOMORROW!
Come back to Butternut Creek and visit with Adam, Miss Birdie, Janey and Hector, and all the other nice people there.
Find out if Adam finds a wife and if Miss Birdie approves.
And just have a great time!
Celebrate!
The football team of my alma mater, Kansas State, is ranked number one in the BSC poll.
Collin Klein is the top player in the running for the Hiesman trophy.
And he’s on the cover of Sports Illustrated with an article about the top player on the top team inside. You do know about the SI jinx, right?
If you think he and the team are feeling pressure, it’s not even close to the stress I’m feeling!
People always ask me, “Where do you find your ideas?’
After swallowing several snarky answers, I say, “They just come to me.” Sorry if that sounds as if I’m still being snarky but it’s the truth. And usually—nearly always—what comes to me is the character not the plot. After the idea comes to me, often the beginning of the novel with the main characters fairly firmly created and in place, I build a plot for those characters to wander around in.
For me, this is the definition of character driven plotting. It works best for me because I am able to wrap the plot around the character not forced to shove characters into the plot, often against their wills and come up with odd motivations and conflicts which don’t come from the characters but from the writer.
In my opinion, you can tell if the novel is plot driven or character driven if the heroine has to rationalize and explain why she’s doing what she’s doing—often over and over. If her action comes from who she is as a character, we KNOW why she does this because the writer has introduced us to her and her traits. If the action doesn’t fit this, if it is a twist on her character, a line or two will have us accept it. If, however, the author has to have her act this way to promote the plot driven story, there will be several explanation and, to me, this interrupts the plot of the story. On the other hand, if the characters drive the narrative, there may be some holes in the plot but–we believe–the characters are so charming the reader won’t care. At least, that’s our excuse and our hope.
For example—and this is completely made up:
PLOT DRIVEN: Mary is a grade school teacher who discovers a body on her front porch and decides to find the killer. WHY? I read this so often. Most of us call the police and allow them to take over. What motivates her? Curiosity and stupidity seem to be the answers but the author needs this to happen or she has no book. The motivation really belongs to the writer and her dedication to the plot. Over and over, friends tell her this is dangerous but Mary gives many reasons she give for doing this, none of which come from who she is but the plot. Without her investigation, there is no story.
CHARACTER DRIVEN: Mary is a grade school teacher who discovers the body of her best friend on her front porch and decides to look into this because the police have written this off as suicide. She has no plan to find the killer but she knows her friend isn’t suicidal and wants to know what happened. The investigation is more or less forced upon her. What motivates her? Love for her friend, the desire to know the truth, traits we already know because we’ve met Mary and observed her with her friend. We know as a teacher, she’s not a daring type—I say this as a teacher—that she usually plays by the rules and respects authority so she must have a good reason to do this—not just take off on a lark.
What does the writer need to do if he/she wants to build a character drive plot?
1) Get to know the character and let her lead the way.
2) Introduce the character to the reader with some short scenes so the motivation makes sense.
3) Know the characters so deeply that they interact without the intervention or explanation of the writer. This step came as a complete surprise to me in THE WEDDING PLANNERS OF BUTTERNUT CREEK, the third book in the Butternut Creek series–no cover available yet. I introduce Janey Firestone in the first book, THE WELCOME COMMITTEE OF BUTTERNUT CREEK and Hannah Jordan in the third book. Somehow, Janey becomes the catalyst for the changes that takes place in Hannah. I hadn’t planned that.
If your characters don’t surprise you with their actions, then you haven’t written a character driven plot. If your characters don’t take over the story and lead in another direction than you had chosen, you aren’t listening to them.
In a character driven plotting, the characters really do take over. Let them!
Our gorgeous tuxedo cat Scooter –on the left in the photo–has asked us to call him, “Scooter, the Wonder Cat.” Up until today, I have refused to.
As you enter our apartment, the kitchen and the laundry room are on the left. Pass the dining room, turn left at George’s study, go down the halls fifteen feet and enter my study. That’s where I was sitting, writing a blog post, when Scooter dashed in. “There’s something wrong here,” he yowled. Well, actually, he didn’t say a word, he just looked upset and worried. One at a time, he lifted each foot high and shook it. Concerned, I got up and looked into the hall. It was flooded. Toilet, I thought, and dashed into the bathroom. Flooded as well but the toilet was fine. I ran on down the hall, turned, splashed through the rising water, across the dining room, waded through the kitchen and opened the door into the laundry room. The washing machine spouted water like a geyser.
I hit spin to empty the machine and took off to survey the damage. Unimaginable! I started tossing rugs and towels and blankets on the floor. When the thick king-sized blanket hit the water, it landed with resounding splashes and sank below an inch of water. Oh-oh. I threw every blanket, every towel, and every bath mat into the pool, as well as the cat beds, a couple of pot holders and–I hate to admit–the other cat. At that point, I realized I’d never be able to soak the flood up. George called the apartment office and asked for a maintenance man to come by–right now!–with a wet-dry vac. John arrived, looked at the pond, and left He returned minutes later with Jason the carpet guy who’d been working in another apartment. The carpet guy worked for two hours with all his equipment until the water was slurped up from the wood floors and the carpets were drying while three huge fans dried on the carpets and terrified the cats.
I hate to think what would have happened if Scooter hadn’t come in to tell me that there was something terribly wrong. We might have all drowned.
Thank you, Scooter the wonder cat!
With today being election day, I decided to ponder the occasion and reminisce about the many elections I’ve participated in.n I PROMISE not to tell you to vote or ask for a donation for the party.
Way back when I first voted, a voter had to be twenty-one. This meant reaching that milestone truly was an entry to adulthood. However, even at twenty-one and in graduate school, my parents’ party choice and my brother’s political beliefs guided me. I voted for a man who lost hugely.
But my political stance changed as I worked and joined the world. George’s family was in the “other” party. My parents never forgive George (actually, they didn’t hold this against him–much) for converting me. He didn’t. I came to the decision to change parties on my own but I’m certain that marriage and life together are easier if political beliefs line up. We are both somewhat stubborn and vocal. I’d hate to live with us around election time if we didn’t agree.
As we considered the candidates in the first election after we were married, we didn’t know who to vote for in the US House race. We didn’t like either man so voted for the candidate we didn’t know both in protest and because we couldn’t vote for the chairman of the House Un-American Activities sub-committee or his opponent. When the results were posted, we discovered to our HORROR that we’d voted for a member of George Wallace’s racist party. Mortifying. Last time we went into an election that ignorant!
I believe the right to vote and protecting that are incredibly important. A democracy encourages voting by all its citizens. I also believe strongly in supporting and working for the candidate of my choice. I’ve worked phone banks dozens of times, walked the neighborhood, organized districts. I consider myself a political junkie. George considers me slightly wacko but even when I disagree with the winning candidate, I find the process fascinating.
Do you have an memories–good or bad–about elections and voting? Please share. I’d love to know.
I’ve said this often: I love my church. During this difficult time, ministers visited in the hospital and at home. Missionary friends dropped by Tuesday before they left for Ecuador. Others have called. Today a minister and her young daughter visited–always fun to have a little girl around. People in the congregation have sent cards, kept us in prayer, and asked what they can do to help–and I know they mean that. After all, Ken and the guys showed up to move furniture for us.
Our families have been wonderful. We don’t have relatives closer than Kentucky and Arizona although I have a cousin in Kansas, but George’s sister calls almost 
daily. We love talking to her. My sister sent a card. My brother called. Friends from the church George served in Burnet stopped by Monday. One of George’s oldest friends even volunteered to drive all the way from Kentucky to visit. People tell me their friends and families and prayer groups keep us in prayer.
And so, we’re not alone. Even with George as sick as he is and with my being worried, we are truly blessed by those who remind us that we are not alone.
I thank God every day for each of you.
When I was very young, my brother, younger sister and I spent a great deal of time gathered on the floor to listen to the huge console radio because no one had a television. When we bought our first television, we had a choice between an eight-inch screen and a twelve-inch. My mother feared the twelve-inch might be too large. All programs were in black and white and we had only one channel. Our favorite program was Kukla, Fran, and Ollie in which several hand puppets—Ollie was a dragon–chatted with Fran Allison. Programming didn’t run all day. At midnight or earlier, the National Anthem played after which a test pattern came on and stayed on the screen until programs started the next day.
My greatest disappointment was the programming. I’d thought when we turned on the television, our favorite radio shows would come on: The Lone Ranger and Jack Armstrong, All-American Boy. But they didn’t. All we got was Fran Emerson and, as much as I loved them, Kukla, Fran and Ollie was no Sergeant Preston of the Yukon.
What did I learn?
Technology doesn’t do everything we think or hope it will. As exciting as it is, technology does not always change the world for the better. Texting, for example, has brought only the ability to communication with the person sitting next to you and causes automobile accidents. Although cell phones take pictures and, with the proper apps, do lots of 
other stuff, we have not learned to communicate better and more deeply and meaningfully with each other. Thanks to social media, we get instant reports on uprisings in Egypt and slaughters in the Syria, but has that instant access made response to emergencies faster? We can talk to people on the other side of the world, but have we learned to live in peace with our neighbors—or those people on the other side of the world?
When we instantly hear that people are starving, do we respond more quickly?
Not that we can blame the lack of response to emergencies on technology. After all, everything, every invention, has limitations and computers weren’t expected to take the place of caring for others.
But the limitations of technology only highlight the limitations of those of us who use it. Technology is only a tool, an amusing toy that doesn’t replace a caring heart.
I hit the wall yesterday. Forgot it was even Thursday. No second blog this week.
BUT next week, a new CRAFT TUESDAY on, you guessed it, TUESDAY! Hope to see you!
Later: Whoops–I must be foggy from hitting the wall or perhaps I’d like to get this election over sooner and dropped a week off the calender. Next week’s topic is still under consideration. The NEXT week is Craft Tuesday.
I know that not all who read this blog are sports fans. However, because I am, I may mention them now and then, from time to time–and this is the NOW and this is THE TIME!
My husband–who is also a sports’ nut–always says the best thing my father did was to teach me to love football, basketball, track, and baseball. I learned to love a few more on my own. I grew up in Kansas City, MO, and my father was a HUGE Jayhawk–University of Kansas–fan. We went to every home football and basketball game starting from when I was about three years old. A legend in our family which my older brother disputes is that there was actually a picture of him when he was very young in the Kansas City Star, shouting during a KU football game, “Let’s score a home run!” We went to games in good weather and endured rain, freezing weather, and snow. In fact, we didn’t think we were having a good time if we weren’t cold and wet and miserable. 
However, by the time I graduated from high school, I decided to enter new and–to my parents, both KU grads–hostile territory at Kansas State University in Manhattan, KS. At that ime, the Wildcats had great basketball–Final Four my senior year–but the worst football team in the country for years! We were regularly blown out 70-0. We were so bad, I tell my husband, that when we actually scored a touchdown, we’d have victory dances in Aggieville.
All of which brings up my joy with Kansas State’s football this year–and last and during all of the seasons Bill Snyder has coached. Yes, this makes me shallow and interferes with my doing worthwhile things like writing books or–ugh–cleaning house. However, our success this year fills me with fear. In fact, as the Wildcats dominated West Virginia this weekend, I didn’t relax 
halfway through the fourth quarter although we had a huge lead. I’ve seen it vanish too often to ever feel comfortable.
But I’m not sure loving sports is completely shallow. When my team wins a football games, I’m happy. Okay, I’m shallow BUT happy and I don’t see anything wrong with this. Oh, sure, if any sports program overtakes and overshadows the importance of ethics and honesty and education, that’s wrong. I’m not in favor of that but I do love my team. I belt out the Fight Song over and over during games. I have a POWERCAT magnet on the side of my car and zip through town feeling proud and meeting other K-State fans. I tape every sports program after the game to revel in the win.
My team is number THREE in the BCS ratings. Not something to build my life on but something to enjoy as well as filling me with trepidation.
What do you think? Do like or dislike sports? Why? Do we emphasize athletic success to much? Of course we do but is there anything wrong about enjoying the victory of your favorite teams? I’d like to know how you feel.