Page 26 of Death on Riddle Road
“Wait.Back up.You’re jumbling everything together.Give me the story in order.”
“The order I learned about it or the order it happened?”
“You know, that’s an excellent writer question.Think about how that applies to your work in progress and the most effective way to present the story to the reader.Maybe try the opening several ways.”
I groaned again.
“Nobody said it was going to be easy.”She was way too cheerful.“You’re learning one of the nastiest things about writing for most of us.It’s hard as hell to get your head into writing mode and easy as all get-out to snap out of it.And I’m not talking about those few, spaced-out, but glorious intervals when you get into flow, when the world and time disappear, and the words come through your fingertips like there’s no mental or physical effort to get what’s in your head onto the screen.Which, of course, is what most people think all of writing is, when it’s a damn small part.”
“It’s like football fans going on and on about the one play when the quarterback makes the perfect pass to the receiver, who feints the defender, then sprints into the end zone.It’s spectacular, but it’s sure not the whole game.”
We might have let Kit watch too much football over the holidays.She’s always liked the game, but knows she can get obsessed, so generally disciplines her watching time.Sometimes she needs a little help — some might call it intervention — with that discipline.But, hey, it was the holidays.We might have let up.
I suddenly wondered if she’d chosen to go home before New Year’s so she’d have less interference from family in her watching.
“It’s just one play, when the game’s made up of many plays and each play’s made up of many parts.Your players, the other team’s players.Actions of each player, along with decisions by coaches and staff, right back to drafting and hiring.All the work, decisions, actions need to be there to get that beautiful touchdown pass.
“It’s the same with writing.When you’re in flow, the words come and the world disappears.But for most of writing, the world’s right at your shoulder, pecking away at the delicate bubble of creativity you need around your brain.Peck, peck, peck.Bills, news, to-dos, want-to-dos, obligations, people, pets—”
“Football games?”
She ignored my interpolation.“You saw enough of it to know writing doesn’t come in a gush of inspiration.It comes from work.The temptation to avoid that work is ever-present just beyond the bubble you try to create.Your first job is to protect that bubble against the pecking.Your second job, in this case, might be recognizing when the bubble has no chance to withstand the pecking of a murder to solve.
“You are never going to make use of every moment of time to write.Because most writing needs timearoundit.Time to transition from the real world with all that pecking, to the fictional world.Now, about this murder—”
“Murders.And one of the victims was the murderer.”
With that intro — not bad, if I said so myself — I plunged into the account, starting with Clara telling me about Mamie’s plea to help figure out who killed Derrick, then filling in the background of the murder of his first wife and his conviction.
“What happened with Jaylynn colors everything each person thinks about what’s happened now.It’s understandable — it’s hard not to be emotional about a young mother murdered with her baby son in the back seat.It’s horrifying.And for her husband and the father of that baby—.See, there I go, too.”
“As you said.Hard not to,” Kit said.“Those emotions might help you spot things.But you also have to be rational.”
“I know.I’ve been thinking about that.We’re bound to hear a lot of emotional reactions from the people we’re talking to.What I’d like to do is read the trial transcript.That should lay out the case against Derrick, with the evidence that persuaded a jury.I’m going to call the North Bend County Circuit Court Clerk’s office in the morning.Although with it being the week between the holidays...Still, they should be able to get me the name of the court reporter, though it might be a while—”
“I can get that expedited.”
Of course she could.With her sources and connections, she could probably have it hand-delivered with a bow.
“That would be a huge help.Thanks, Kit.”
“Remember that’s not the only way I can help.”
“Of course.You have to know how much we value your insights.”
Shehumphed, but only half meant it.“Have to go now.”
I grinned at the phone.“Your gentleman caller’s there?Planning to celebrate a belated Christmas together?”
“I am planning,” she said sternly, “to thoroughly enjoy a booty call.”
I spluttered as she hung up on me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was entirelycoincidental that I called Teague right after that.
“You sound tired,” I said to histhanksafter I reported Murph was comfortably settled.
