Every Other Thursday

This newsletter, The Roll Top Desk, started on December 15, 2022. The “welcome” post was dated November 17. I initially thought I would do a once-a-month bulletin but the posts would be too far apart to sustain a regular readership. It’s a delicate balance. We all have a lot of fluff landing in our mail boxes. Send a blog too often and people will tell you to go to hell, send too rarely and recipients will wonder who you are and why you’re bothering them.

Once every two weeks was a good compromise.

I picked Thursday because it’s my favorite day of the week. It holds all the promises of the weekend. By Friday, it’s already too late. Don’t ask why I feel that way, it’s one of these quirks.

So here is post #26. There’s been travel, writing assignments, doctor appointments, the usual life stuff, but I have stuck to the routine and not missed my self-imposed deadline. Planning ahead was needed occasionally and I’ve scrambled madly up to an hour before pushing the button a couple of times. Inspiration under the gun.

I learned a few things in the process. The main take-away is that I enjoy doing this.

When writing fiction, I “talk” in the voices of the characters and the feelings are what the story calls for. Little pieces of myself are in it, of course, but I’m mostly an observer, a conduit for imaginary people. In this series, it’s metalking. When I riff on writing, on what works and what doesn’t, how ideas emerge or sink, there’s nothing abstract or made-up about it. And I give it to you as conversation, as if we were sitting together on a terrace having a cup of coffee. I’m not making phrases or coining clever similes. I’m not looking for the exact word (well, yes, maybe a little!). Writing like that, loose-limbed, is liberating.

Another discovery is that topics are in ample supply and all around.

In February, I was out of the country. My laptop fell asleep and refused to wake up. I used my phone and my husband’s tablet to crank out a post about the incident. It turned out my Mac was playing possum. It kicked back alive as soon as I plugged it in at home. It’s still working fine, go figure.

Posts were inspired by dinner conversations, something from an article, a book I liked, a book I didn’t like, a story that was hard to write, an old unfinished tale, why I dip a toe in the horror genre on occasion, the pleasure of recurrent characters … I have yet to repeat myself.

Like a good exercise regimen, writing benefits from variety—add some weights to that cardio, change the routine. This is what the newsletter does for me, it’s making me use a different set of muscles. I doubt I’ll ever write a full essay, a pure non-fiction piece. A story may start with a real event, a chunk of memory, but it never stays there. The wheels start rolling, the guys in the basement get to work as Stephen King says, and the tale gains momentum. I’m having too much fun writing fiction to stick to reality.

So, what’s next after blowing the one-year anniversary candle?

I’ll keep going. Every other Thursday. One more newsletter in two weeks, and then it’s 2024 where new adventures in scribbling await.

A few numbers to close this issue. Substack keeps statistics for the math nerds among us:

  • Last week’s post, The Long and Short of It, was the most viewed so far. Maybe it’s because of that killer cover from the Crimeucopia anthology. I got my paperback, by the way, it’s beautiful.

  • The Sounds not the Silence, about writing with the music playing in the background, generated the most comments. Thank you, I love hearing what you have to say.

  • The No-rule Rules of Crime Fiction is the most popular. I’m fond of that one too.

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Train of Thought

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A November Story