The LadyKillers

If I could be anyone...even when it's not Halloween...by Penny Warner

The topic this week is “If you could be anyone…”
Sounds like a Halloween Party Theme, which is right up my alley!
So if I could be anyone, for Halloween or otherwise, here are my choices:

Little Lulu, because she had great friends (Tubby, Annie, and Alvin), she had a great imagination (always making up stories about Witch Hazel), and she made a mean snowball.

Nancy Drew, because she drove a cool car (blue roadster), she knew more than any other girl her age (how to break a horse, use Morse Code, send message via carrier pigeon and much more), and she wore awesome retro outfits (especially the Cloche hat.)

Mrs. Sarah Winchester, because she had a lot of money (although I’d spend it on clothes and shoes, not staircases that go nowhere and hallways with no doors.)

Agatha Christie, because she never ran out of plot ideas (and once had all the suspects commit the murder!)

 
Kate Warne, because she was the first female Pinkerton detective – and how cool would that have been (plus her outfit would make a great Halloween costume!)

I guess I'd better start planning my Halloween party....

Where Is the Wizard of Oz When You Need Him?

-from Susan

From Shakespeare to the singer USHER with icons like Cinderella and Frank Abagnale, Jr. in between, the notion of being, even for a short time, someone else is an enduring, intriguing human longing. Even the notion that everyone has – or will want – their 15 minutes of glory or outsized achievement is a version of this: to be glamorous, more important, more influential, more listened to than we are in our ordinary lives. But as reality TV shows, movies and books make clear, it’s rarely if ever as wonderful as it seems. Trading places has a way of not panning out. Mark Twain’s Pauper who steps in for the restive Prince finds that ordering people around has it limitations. Cinderella does a lot of weeping next to the fireplace before her prince finds her again. And even Leonardo DiCaprio can’t keep the dream afloat forever in “Catch Me If You Can.”

Having said that, do I dream about being someone else? Not any more – I’m at that age where reality rears its ugly head with a snort at the idea that I could rewrite my life. But I remember:

...at 12, to be the girl out of all those millions that Elvis Presley chose to smile upon (as a virginal girlfriend, I might add, since sex was still a subconscious text);

...at 13, to be the girl out of all those dozens that the junior varsity basketball star chose to take to the prom;

...at 14, to be the girl out of the entire eighth grade class most admired (for her looks, not her behavior) by the boys.

Early adolescence is a nightmare!

As an adult with a broader outlook on life, why haven’t I volunteered to go to Africa to help establish micro-loan programs, or gone to graduate school, or won the Edgar? The women I admire have powered revolutions (Gloria Steinem), risked their lives for peace (Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan), made exciting art (Jennifer Bartlett, Twyla Tharp), and begun organizations that bring medical care to those most in need (Ophelia Dahl). Of course, there are wonderful writers on my list of people I wish I resembled more. And chefs, and athletes, and, and, and….I’d like to dream that I could click my ruby heels three times and be able to sing (and look) like Renee Fleming or dance (and look) like Beyonce, but I can’t keep those visions afloat.

Elvis is not going to ring my doorbell any time soon so I'd better oncentrate on simply being a better me.

 

 Note: I had all these great photos to pop in but another person I'm never going to be is a  technology wizard. Sorry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If You Could Be Anyone . . . By Michael A. Black

If you could be anyone, who would you be?

It’s an age-old question, but also one based on the assumption that a person would rather be someone other than himself. That, in itself, could lead to a whole host of psychological examination questions. Personally, I’d just rather be myself than someone I’m not. Nevertheless, since the purpose of this topic is to have some fun, let’s explore the question.

If you could be anyone . . . Well, let’s see . . . It might be kind of cool to be Superman. I mean, being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound and being more powerful than a locomotive would have its plus side. So would that X-ray vision. It’s a good thing Superman is so virtuous. I doubt I’d have the discipline to behave myself if I had his powers. I’d be too tempted to change the world. Or at least try. Plus that blue suit with the tights and cape don’t really look that comfortable. So I think I’ll pass.

Okay, if not Supes, then who else?

Batman spends way too much time prowling around at night. I did that for a lot of years in a squadcar. One time, when I was working a plain-clothes unit, I was wearing this Batman T-shirt. They’d picked up this impressionable young man for shoplifting and I happened to stroll back into the processing area and the kid saw my shirt.

“You a Batman fan?” he asked incredulously.

I paused, turned to him, and said, “Kid, I am Batman.”

His jaw dropped in shock, but I think he believed me.

So in a sense, I’ve already had a turn as the caped crusader.

How about switching occupations . . . Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the President of the United States . . . Nope, it would never be me. I have the utmost respect for our president, but would never want his job. And look at the stress factor that accompanies it. It’s hard to believe it was only a little over three years ago that President Obama didn’t have any gray hair.

All right, how about this one: “May I introduce the Heavyweight Champion of the World—”

“Yo, Adrian, I made it!”

Having boxed a bit in my youth, and also having an aversion to being hit in the face a couple thousand times, I don’t think I’d want this job either. I’ll leave this one to Sylvester Stallone.

How about somebody really different, like a totally different species?

“Yo, Rinny!”

That was the refrain that Rusty, the kid who owned him, used to use to call his superdog, Rin Tin Tin. He was a big German Shepherd who could give all sorts of bad guys their just deserts. And all he wanted in return was a little praise and an occasional bone to chew on.

But I think I’ll pass on this one too. It would be my luck that little Rusty would have me neutered just out of spite. And keep in mind that things can get terribly mixed up in the dog world, too. Remember Lassie? She was actually played by a boy dog.

Since we’re talking about old TV show heroes, how about Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man? He was part man, and part machine. He could run 60 miles per hour on his bionic legs, and use his bionic arm to pick up a car. He had a bionic eye, too. But I’d have to pass on this one as well. In today’s economy six million wouldn’t buy as much as it did back in the seventies. Plus, there’s that part of him being “a man barely alive” that’s kind of unsettling.

So how about a rock star?

Nah, it wouldn’t work. I don’t like loud music, and since Elvis is long gone, I don’t think I’d be interested in being one of those.

  Okay, here’s one that all you writers out there can relate to: Bestselling Author.

Hmm, this one has possibilities, and it’s actually not totally out of the ballpark. I mean, with a little luck it could happen, right? Okay, maybe more luck than just a little, but it is possible. After all, I do have a new book called The Incredible Adventures of Doc Atlas coming out soon. My buddy Geof Darrow did the cover (to the left).

So I guess I’d better quit daydreaming about being somebody else, and just keep being me. It’s something I’ve got a lot of experience doing.

And after all, it’s not such a bad gig, either.

News Flash and If You Could Be Anyone...

News Flashes!!

• Mary Anna Evans be receiving the Mississippi Authors Award at the Mississippi Library Association's annual conference in October for her book FLOODGATES. Congrats to Mary Anna, big time!!

 

Make a Wish...

Next topic: If you could be ANYone... who would you be??? :-) The LadyKillers have all sorts of ideas about that one. Join us this upcoming week and see what they have to say.

 

 

I'd Give My Right Arm to Stop Using Cliches

Staci here, racking my brain for clichés to talk about. Wait, wasn’t that one? You bet, and they’re hard to avoid. Two types of clichés permeate writing, and the first is the tried and true phrases (cliché!) that are so pervasive in everyday conversation that it’s easy to forget they’re clichés at all.

When I finished the rough draft of Going Organic, I read Don’t Murder Your Mystery for revision suggestions. Chris Roerden devoted a chapter to the dangers of clichés, warning that overusing clichés results in lazy writing. The reader will get bored, the writing won’t be fresh, and the publishers won’t be interested. Cliches in dialogue are the exception, since people in everyday life use clichés nonstop. But the others had to go. So I scratched my head, furrowed my brow, and put my nose to the grindstone, eager to ferret out all those pesky clichés.

I must have been a glutton for punishment, because my manuscript was riddled with clichés to the point of being embarrassing. Even after reading the book through again, I’m sure I missed a bunch. Let’s hope they’re all embedded in dialogue.

The other type of cliché I see constantly is character clichés. An author who shall remain nameless but is well known for lawyer books tends to make all his female characters five foot eight to five foot ten, one hundred and fifteen pounds, with long hair and trim figures. Couldn’t we just once have a petite overweight public defender? Would the halls of justice slam their doors shut on such a protagonist? Of course not. But apparently that author wants all his main characters to fit his idea of attractive, even if the description is nothing new.

Don’t get me wrong. Character cliches can be handy for the reader. When I’m introduced to a tattooed gangbanger who drives a souped-up Cadillac with chrome rims and has a heart of gold, I’m instantly oriented. When I meet a grizzled ex-cop turned private eye with a tendency to drink too much, I feel like I’m reading about an old friend. And if the writer’s good, he’ll take these familiar characters and add a twist that livens them up and sparks my interest. And if he doesn’t, then I’ll spend a large portion of the book smirking as the characters do all the things I’m expecting. If the pacing is good and the plot solid, I may even overlook the lack of originality. But that type of writing won’t make me run to the nearest bookstore and buy the next book.

How about everyone else? Do you find yourself rolling your eyes when a buxom blonde in a dress slit up to here (wherever here is) strolls into the room in Chapter 1? Or do you enjoy seeing those familiar faces?

Happy as a Clam

By Margaret Lucke

Last week I spent four idyllic days on Cape Cod.  My husband's  uncle and cousins were staying at a charming century-old house on the western shore of the Cape and invited us to visit them there. One of the property's best features is a little boathouse that sits over the water, and we spent most of the daylight hours on its deck, soaking up sunshine, reading books, watching kids and dogs splash in the shallows, and waving to passing boats. 

On morning we saw a woman making her way down the beach with a bushel basket. "She's gathering clams," one of us said.

Someone else replied, "I wonder if the clams are as happy as we are right now."

Happy as a clam. Now there's a cliché that has always puzzled me. It's such a common idiom that you'd think there was some truth to it. Yet I never understood what it is about clams that implies they're happy, or have any emotions at all.

People have suggested that the expression came about because a partially open clam gives the appearance of smiling. But frankly I don't see it.

Digging a little (for information, not clams), I found that early versions of the phrase were happy as a clam at high water and happy as a clam in the mud at high tide. In circumstances like that, the clam can't be dug up and eaten, which does seem like a good reason for it to be joyful.

On the other hand, another variation I ran across was happy as a clam in butter sauce. I'm not sure why finding itself bathing in butter sauce would appeal a clam since that's a sure sign it's about to be eaten. But at least it's a delicious way to go.

Happy as a clam first appeared in print in 1830. It quickly became a cliché. In 1848 a magazine called Southern Literary Messenger observed that the expression "is familiar to every one." In that same year the scholar and linguistics enthusiast John Russell Bartlett published his Dictionary of Americanisms: A Glossary of Words and Phrases Usually Regarded as Peculiar to the United States, with happy as a clam as one of the entries.

However, sad as a clam might be equally accurate. Last month The Huffington Post carried an entry by Mark C. Miller, in which he reported on a study of clams done at the Kerala Institute of Undersea Study in India. Claiming that the DNA of their liquid secretions is identical that of human tears, the researcher noted that clams exhibit sure signs of depression, such as immobility, a lack of in interest in their appearance, and no desire to socialize.

Okay, Miller is a humorist and was pulling our legs (there's another cliché for you). But if a clam can be happy, it's just as logical to suppose it also can be miserable.

I'd rather think that if clams have emotions, they're positive ones and happy as a clam makes sense. Still, I can't imagine that any mollusk could be as happy as we were last week, lounging on that sunny deck above the water.

Batten Down the Hatches! -- by Ann Parker

Ann Parker here, every-other-Thursday at The LadyKillers. Well, I was really looking forward to writing this post about clichés, but the impending storm back East blew all that right out of the water. (Two clichés for you, right there.)

Still, I shall soldier on with a few quick comments on clichés. First, I love them, and employ them with great and joyful abandon in my drafts. My critique partners and my editor strike them out, which is a good thing, because I find it difficult to kill these particular darlings.

Second, a cliche "now" may not have been one "back then" (which gives me a bit of an out, since I write historicals set in 1880s). Finally, I believe that I absorbed many of the sayings and clichés that my mother and grandparents used, which sound "old-timey" to me, but unfortunately, are not quite old enough. I've had to turn down many a phrase that didn't come into use until the 1920s. For instance: "We've been framed!" is from the 1920s (alas!), according to the Online Etymological Dictionary.  To keep myself from going too far astray, I use The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms (Christine Ammer), the two volumes of Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang (J.E. Lighter), plus all kinds of online sources, such as the aforementioned Online Etymological Dictionary.

I see I'm sliding down that slippery slope from cliches to slang, so I think I'll stop.

Meanwhile, here's a little cartoon from the Punch Almanack for 1885, that pokes gentle fun at some clichéd expressions which were overused in the popular literature of the time. Enjoy!

Thinking of all you East-Coasters, who have Mother Nature bearing down upon you... batten down your hatches, hang on tight, and here's hoping that it will all simply blow over...

Such is life

Camille here, same time, same place. Today's topic is one sandwich short of a picnic. Out of nowhere, I was like a deer caught in the headlights. The whole ball of wax smells fishy, asking us to make a silk purse from a sow's ear. I avoid cliches like the plague; that's the bottom line.

You can be an eager beaver and suffer in silence and get on the same page as this topic if you want. That's all to the good, and time will tell. But me, I'm busier than a one-armed paper hanger and I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Time is of the essence, so I'm gonna cut and run.

See you later, alligators. God willing and the creek don't rise.

 

Cliches

Clichés? I love them. Counting the current buzz phrases used in meetings helped me keep a sense of humor back in a prior life. I am grateful to them. But not in books. 

Next to entertainment, I read to be surprised and enlightened. Recently, I came across a scene in Mitchell Kaplan’s novel, By Fire, By Water, where he describes the Spanish roads filled with Jewish refugees fleeing to the ports in 1492. Despite living 500 years later, I reacted in that moment as if I were truly watching the horror. Although I am familiar with the story, he did not numb me with a single cliché. 

Clichés are not only boring, they insult our intelligence or coddle and deaden us. Perhaps the original use of the cliché amused or shocked the listener into looking at something differently. Too much use, however, kills the surprise. No wonder people fall asleep in business meetings or zone out when a newsperson or politician falls back on yet another buzz word. 

Perhaps public figures and corporate types can get away with clichés, and even be praised for their demonstrated awareness of the popular theories, but clichés have no place in literature, unless the use points up an aspect of character. As writers, we’re supposed to be creative! 

I’m not saying that each book must be a self-conscious manual in clever phrasing, but originality should be there no matter how deliciously light or gravely serious. Jose Saramago, in Death with Interruptions, handles the societal difficulties when death takes a vacation with piquant wit, an original but not outlandish writing style, and compelling twists. It does not read like a treatise, is entertaining, and there is not a cliché in sight. 

Did I mention he won the Nobel Prize for Literature? 

I rest my case—or is that a cliché?

FROM MARY ANNA: Kicking the cliché habit

Brain scientists have shown that our minds fall into familiar grooves. When we speak or write, we reach for prefabricated thoughts, because it is so much easier than reinventing the wheel. I would argue that clichés aren't particularly undesirable in casual conversation, unless they are so frequent as to annoy the listener. They communicate the speaker's intent in a way that the listener can easily understand. What's so bad about that? They are not, however, a creative way to communicate.

Those of us who earn our livelihood with words feel inspired to do better than to simply regurgitate canned phrases. If I cannot find my own way to tell you something, why should we expect you to listen? We writers delve deep into the language for new ways to say things, in hopes that you will respond by finding new ways to think.

Does this mean that I never unconsciously resort to clichés? Oh, heavens no. I'm human, and I don't think there's any way to root every last cliché out of 95,000 words of prose...not unless I plan to devote a decade to each book. So go ahead and send me a catalog of every overused phrase in all of my body of work, if you feel that you must, and I'll try not to use any of them again. Just be assured that I know without looking that they are there.

A few days ago, a reader told me that she particularly enjoyed a sentence I wrote in my first book, Artifacts: "Providence tends to repay a man in the coin he hands to others." Then she asked, "Is that yours? Is it original?" I could only answer "I hope so."

Unintentional plagiarism is not so different from dredging my memory banks and coming up with a cliché...except using something that belongs to another writer is simply wrong. Obviously, I hoped that I hadn't unintentionally used someone else's pithy observation when I wrote about Providence and her coin. In this case, I also hoped that the sentence was original simply because I liked it.

I just did a web search and could find nothing remotely similar to that sentence. This prompted me to breathe a sigh of relief. It's mine....I'm pretty sure it's mine...good heavens, I hope my brain didn't take a lazy trip down a well-rutted road and come up with that idea. Because, while slapping a cliché into a book now and then is lazy, it's not unethical.

By contrast, taking someone else's idea violates one of the most timeworn phrases of all: Thou shalt not steal.

Mary Anna