Back by Popular Demand ?

No, not Elvis -- but Harice (whom I imagine as looking something like Elvis, but better.)

Harice, the bedroom eyed, snake handling preacher from my first book, Signs in the Blood.

"He was broad shouldered and slim hipped, with a wide, unexpectedly sensual smile that flashed white against the rich tan of his face."

He also had dark hooded eyes and he and Elizabeth were more than a little attracted to one another during the course of that book. And more than a few of my readers have asked me what happened to him. The other night in my writing class, during the break, Sallie presented me with a whole bunch of good reasons why I ought to bring him back.

And I thought, Why not? He does make an appearance in Birdie's forthcoming book, The Day of Small Things, but this Elizabeth book I'm working on now affords a very nice opportunity . . . oh, yes, a very nice opportunity for an interesting complication.

So I'm going to go with this idea. My editor, Herself, may disagree, of course, (some of you remember how she made me get rid of Myrna Lou in the Birdie book.) But I think this will work. And I'm kind of excited about it.

Another thing lots of folks have asked is if I've ever been to a snake handling church. The answer is no. But now, thanks to Mr. Google and You Tube, we can take a quick peek at a service in progress.

The Sister Thing

"Sisters never quite forgive each other for what happened when they were five."

Pam Brown

I spent yesterday working on the new book, Under the Skin -- Elizabeth's sister Gloria has come for an indefinite visit and Elizabeth is, somewhat to her (and to my) surprise, becoming a tad bitchy.

Now I don't have a sister so I have no personal experience to draw on. But that doesn't stop me -- I've never (knowingly) encountered a murderer either but still I write about them.

Of course there are sisters who are best friends and always have been. But when one is writing a novel, high on the list of Must Have's is CONFLICT. Not just one big conflict but lots of little ones as well. So, Elizabeth and Gloria -- two very different people with very different world views are bound to clash.

Also, as I mentioned just a month ago, I'm writing Elizabeth in first person -- getting really up close and personal. In the past, sometimes I've thought that Elizabeth was just a little too good to be true -- so balanced, so kind, so good natured, so . . . rational.

Well, there's nothing like being around a younger, slimmer, richer sister, who also likes to tell you how you should live your life, to bring out the inner female dog in a protagonist.

I'm finding it interesting.

A Shared View

"The three big windows framed what could have been a delicate Japanese ink drawing -- all muted colors and simple lines, with hazy mountaintops poking through the low-lying fog like islands in a pale gray sea of mist." (from Art's Blood, p.411)

Our eastern view again -- always changing, always gorgeous. In the morning the mist rises up from the river to produce lovely ephemeral scenes.

Being fortunate enough to live where I do, how could I not write about it? Elizabeth's house and farm are based on our house and farm -- 'write what you know,' they often say. And I have enough to remember already, with all these characters and pasts I've created; it's comforting to have to remember only (so far) that Elizabeth's house differs from ours in just two particulars. For one thing, Elizabeth has a mirror by her kitchen door (Signs in the Blood, p. 11). Hey, it was my first book and I hadn't known that it's considered cliched and amateurish to describe a character by having him or her look in a mirror. Sorry. The other difference is that Elizabeth's sofas are still denim-covered whereas our denim-covered sofas were trashed by the dogs and have been replaced by leather. But then we have six dogs while Elizabeth (a saner woman than I) has a modest three.

Something New

After my recent failure to send a holiday album of pictures to all recipients of my newsletter, The Goodweather Reports (too many, too large pictures-- some servers choked on them), I'm experimenting with this blog which seems to promise to let me add pictures at will. We'll see.

The picture above (taken from my bedroom window) is sunrise at the winter solstice. The sun has gone as far to the south as it can and now will begin its journey north, bringing with it longer days.

"Growing up in Florida and in the suburbs, she had never realized how the sun paced back and forth during the year, like a restless dog on a tether. During the winter it rose far to the southeast and skulked along the ridgeline, disappearing in mid-afternoon." ( from Signs in the Blood, the first Elizabeth Goodweather novel.