Inspiration, Networking & the Convention Blues

Months ago, I found a wonderful CD collection of photos and manuscripts on African-American history. A nostalgia buff, I couldn't resist buying it. The collection provides hours of hapy musing. This photo of Hazel Harrison is one of my favorites.

According to Piano Women.com, Hazel Harrison (b. May 12, 1883, La Porte, Indiana; d. April 29, 1969, Washington, D.C.) reigned as the “premiere black pianist,” for nearly 40 years. Like many American musicians of the time, she went to Europe in her early 20s study and work. Her mentors included Ferrucio Busoni in Berlin, where she gave recitals and appeared with the Berlin Philharmonic. Back in the United States, she received such rave reviews in Chicago that two women "sponsored her return to Europe for more studies. She spent 1911-14 studying again with Busoni, then launched her performing career, which continued full-time in Europe and the U.S. until 1931," when she added teaching to her already busy schedule. Over the next decades, she would teach and/or head departments at Tuskegee Institute in Alabama; Howard University in Washington, D.C.; Alabama State A & M College and Jackson College. In Eileen Southern’s “Biographical Dictionary of Afro-American and African Musicians” (1982) it states: “Her style was described as virtuosic, brilliant, and powerful with the depth of a full orchestra, displaying consummate musicianship.” You can read more about her full life in the 1983 biography, “Born to Play: The Life and Career of Hazel Harrison” by Jean E. Cazort and Constance T. Hobson (Wesport, Conn: Greenwood Press)."

What does this have to do with mystery writing? This is the kind of photo -- and personality -- that provides the spark of inspiration. I'd love to write a mystery inspired by this lady's photo. Even better, I'd love to start one of those round-robbin storytelling thingys, where one person is inspired by photo, begins the mystery and then hands it on to another author. The tale is continually added onto and expanded upon until done. That would be fun.

As alluded to elsewhere, I've been suffering insufferable writer's block. Out of curiousity and in an attempt to alleviate it, I went to the Mystery Writers of America website today and opened up the link to the MWA mentoring program. It was a good idea.

All the notes by the mentors were heartwarming, but naturally the ones by the writers I've met, Elaine Viets and Kristy Montee, touched my heart the most. Both talk about rebounding as a writer, of self-doubt and rediscovery.

One piece of advice that everyone gave (or almost everyone) regarded networking and not sticking your head in the sand in between book publishings. I went to the last Boucheron, in Toronto, and while I had a good time, I was also so lonely at times that I nearly regretted coming. I also felt like such a has-been, it was painful. Going to a writer's convention and having people constantly ask you, "So when's your next book coming out?" is just as bad -- or worse than -- going to a family wedding and having everyone you run into ask, "So when's your wedding?" There's only one satisfactory answer, and if you can't honestly give it, then you're left standing there, feeling exposed, like a plucked duck.

After Bouchercon 2004, I promised myself I wouldn't spend money I don't have to go to a convention where I don't belong and mingle with REAL writers (i.e., writers who are constantly producing) or face that dreaded question again -- NOT until I could say brightly, "Oh, yes, xxxxx (fill in the publisher's name) is bringing out my new book yyyyy (fill in the title) next zzzzz (fill in the month). And I'll be doing a tour, visiting AAA to EEE cities. Would you like to come to my launch party? It's being held at (trendy restaurant) on (funky street)."

Now Elaine and Kristy and the others are saying that my ostrich-like attitude is exactly the wrong one to take. I should hold my head up high, get myself to the convention floor and partake with all mine energy. Sheesh! I agree with them in spirit, but the body's week. What a painful contemplation. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous.

Even so, with great longing, I did check out the website for Bouchercon 2005. The convention is being held in Chicago this year. For a moment, I was tempted. Sorely. But then, thankfully, I saw that the hotel was booked out. (Yes, there is a hotel with available rooms nearby, but I'm ignoring that fact.) No site hotel, no special rates means no convention. Plus, I really can't afford to pay the registration fee, the airfare and the hotel fees. Persia, the writer, wants to go, but Persia, the mom, says sternly that no need to network as a writer justifies such a huge outlay at this time.

HOWEVER ... my inner voice does approve tentative plans to attend Sleuthfest in Florida next March. First of all, it's months from now and my financial situation will have changed by then. (I'm determined it will.) Second, I'll be tired of being cold and Miami will beckon warmly. Last but not least, I will, I will, I will have a new manuscript ready to shop around by then.

So now I have a March deadline. It's mid-August. Seven months to produce a finished manuscript. Fine. Challenge accepted.