Writing Wednesday — Ten Essential Reference Books

Leslie’s bookshelves

After three top ten lists – 10 Common Mistakes Writers Make About the Law, 10 Favorite Novels About the Law, and 10 Essential Books on Writing – I thought I’d list some of my trustiest reference books that aren’t about craft. I already included my own Books, Crooks and Counselors in the list of writing essentials, so I won’t list it here, but it certainly would fit.

In no particular order:

The Idiot’s Guide to Private Investigating, by Steven Kerry Brown (2003) – A terrific guide to finding information from knocking on doors to skip tracing and beyond. Technology has advanced since this book was published, but it’s still very useful.

Murder and Mayhem: A Doctor Answers Medical and Forensics Questions for Mystery Writers, by D.P. Lyle, M.D. (2003) – Lyle’s written several other useful books in the same vein. And yes, his Q&A format inspired mine in Books, Crooks.

Police Procedure & Investigation: A Guide for Writers, by Lee Lofland (2007) – The name says it all. By the force behind The Writers’ Police Academy, also a short story writer.

The Writer’s Guide to Psychology: How to Write Accurately About Psychological Disorders, Clinical Treatment and Human Behavior, by Carolyn Kaufman, Psy.D. – Not just a useful book; an article by the author in a writing magazine led me to submit my proposal to her publisher, Quill Driver Books, which then took on Books, Crooks.

Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, aka the DSM – The professional reference, loaded with detail about specific conditions; surprisingly readable. A therapist friend gave me her copy of the DSM III when an update was published; you can find older versions in used bookstores.

Body Trauma: A Writer’s Guide to Wounds & Injuries, by David W. Page, M.D. (1996) – An older book, but still useful, especially if you don’t have a doctor in the house!

You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation, by Deborah Tannen, Ph.D. (1990) – I devoured this book, long before I started writing, but have found it and Tannen’s other books terrific explanations of how people really talk, useful in creating realistic dialogue laden with subtext.

The Writer’s Legal Guide: An Authors Guild Desk Reference, by Tad Crawford & Kay Murray – I’ve got the 4th edition, published in 2013, and hope there’s an update in the works. If not, look for a similar book from a reputable source, to guide you on issues such as copyright, defamation, taxes, and much more. If you’re self-publishing, there are references to guide you with contracts and other legal issues, as well.

The Criminal Law Handbook: Know Your Rights, Survive the System, from Nolo Press, updated regularly

And the Constitution of the United States, 1787, Madison, Jefferson, et al. Many libraries and courts and the ACLU provide free pamphlet-sized copies.

What subject-matter resources would you add?

Writing Wednesday — All Beginnings Are Hard

Leslie’s desk

“All beginnings are hard.”

That’s the first line of In the Beginning by Chaim Potok, whose novels I have long adored. (I heard him speak at the Sophomore Literary Festival at Notre Dame in the early 1980s, and he was as compelling on stage as on the page.)

I can only imagine how many times Potok rewrote that line. Maybe he wrote the entire book, realized what it was about, and only then knew how it started. Or maybe he knew it right from (sorry) the beginning.

I’m writing this as I start a new novel. Whether you’re a planner or a pantser, getting started can be scary. What if this isn’t where the story starts? What if you guess wrong and have to redo, revise, cut?

There’s no “what if” about it. It’s a given. To some degree or another, you will do just that.

So I want to say this: All beginnings are hard. Don’t feel yours needs to be perfect. All it has to do is get you going and propel you to the next scene. Jane Smiley says all first drafts are perfect because they give you something to work with. I feel the same about beginnings. They get you in gear. I can just about guarantee that even if you keep the same basic opening, as I have for most of my books, you will revise those first few pages more than almost any others. There is always something to change, to reflect the way the story or a character evolved. To set the right tone. To foreshadow the future danger or connect with the ending. Sometimes we start with what we the writer need to know, and only later discover that’s not where the reader needs to start.

It’s okay to poke your opening a bit, to write it then reread it the next day, sharpening the imagery and brightening the voice, to give yourself the confidence that you really do have something to work with.

Then move on.

As David, the main character in Potok’s novel says, beginnings are hard because you are learning a new way of understanding. That’s true of writing a novel, isn’t it? You are meeting new characters, learning their problems and personalities, their joys and sorrows. You are figuring out what to say and how to say it. As David says, “Especially a beginning that you make by yourself. That’s the hardest beginning of all.”

You are writing a book that never existed before. You are making something new. No wonder it’s hard. But it’s exciting, too. Let your enthusiasm carry you. Let the joy guide your hand. Let the beginning be what it needs to be right now; you can always change it. That’s the advantage you have, when you are a novelist making the beginning by yourself.

Writing Wednesday — Location Scouting

Leslie’s desk

Nothing like boots – or sandals or tennies – on the ground.

I’m a very placed writer, and walking possible story locations, in person or in my mind, helps spark ideas. I’m at that point in the beginnings of a new novel, and fortunately, a good chunk of it is set close by, so I can check out locations I think might be important to the story. I can see what my character sees and begin to think “if he parked his RV in this campground, he’d want to be way at the end, away from other people.” That thought helps me flesh out what I know about him and his worldview and worries. Then I look out at the patch of river and begin to imagine ways it could be part of the story. I can see where a divorced dad might meet his teenage daughter for breakfast on Saturday mornings, and get a feel for their relationship. In a book where the conflict between the haves and have-nots is an important part of the back story, I can see how the grand historic home of one man, with its views of the river and the mountains, might grate on another man, who feels he can never get ahead no matter how hard he tries. Their sons go to the same school but go home to very different worlds. How will that play out?

I say a specific spot “might be important to the story,” because I don’t know. It’s early. The characters will tell me, as we take our journey together, whether they do in fact live in this house or another one. But by taking a look at the possibilities, I’m feeding my subconscious, the key to any kind of creative work.

Grab a friend if you can. My husband scouted an RV park with me. When my BFF visited, I dragged her to a town thirty miles away for breakfast (no serious hardship), then we prowled through a historic building together, walked a city park I’d never visited, and explored an old cemetery. Her questions about the town and neighborhoods prompted me to think about my characters in new ways. She saw things I might not have seen—how the trees would have grown and changed a view from when thirty years ago when the story conflict began, for example.

We’ll talk another time about using Google Maps, Facebook photos, and other online tools to ground-truth a story. Meanwhile, lace up your walking shoes, grab your phone or camera, and walk the mean streets with your story people.

Writing Wednesday — eavesdropping on our characters

Leslie’s desk

So there I was, sitting at the keyboard, making a few notes about the secondary protagonist in my fledgling WIP, a man in his late 50s, a wildlife biologist whose father was murdered when he was in college. And all of a sudden, I found myself transcribing a conversation only I could hear, between the man and his therapist. I didn’t know he had one — now that I’m further into the planning process, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, and my subconscious invented one on the spot, to give me an ear on the man’s innermost thoughts. And in those few minutes, the character got a name and a broken marriage and a daughter and a lot of history I would not have discovered, or would have needed a lot more time and work to unearth, if I hadn’t been willing to listen to those voices.

Try it. Take your character out for coffee and scribble in your notebook what she might say, how the conversation would go, if she were sitting across the table from you instead of in your mind. What is she wearing? Did she dress with care or throw on her stained gardening clothes? Is she calm or fidgety? Talking slowly and deliberately or a mile a minute? How does she take her coffee and does she cradle the cup for warmth or let it grow cold? Does she care what you think? Is she sweet to the server or rude?

Maybe you and your character think by moving. Take a walk and speak your conversation into the recorder on your phone. And no, no one will care — they probably won’t notice, assuming you’re on the phone for real.

Imaginary friends. They truly are the heart of fiction.

Writing Wednesday — “There’s a video for that”

You may know this already — or not. People will post YouTube videos about almost anything. I just finished the 2022 Spice Shop mystery and when I wanted to know how the pandemic (“the P word,” as one character calls it, or “the time that must not be named”) affected Seattle’s Pike Place Market, I spent a Sunday morning watching YouTube videos. A vlogger (video blogger) who is rather boring so I won’t name him posts a video of himself walking through the Market the last Saturday of every month. Seeing the differences from February 2021 to June 2021 was really useful. Another vlogger focuses on downtown Seattle, including Pioneer Square, the CID — Chinatown International District, and South Lake Union. Yet another focuses on downtown coffee shops. Just go to YouTube and use the search function and you’ll be amazed — you name it, there’s a video for that!

Writing Wednesday — “Read What You Like”

In mid July, I participated in the “More Than Malice” online literary festival, created by the organizers of the annual Malice Domestic convention celebrating the traditional mystery as a way to bring readers together with authors for a conversation. Some of the authors usually attend “Malice,” as I do, while others don’t, because they write other types of mystery or crime fiction. My panel was moderated by BOLO blogger and reviewer Kristopher Zgorski and featured Carol Goodman, Rachel Howzell Hall, Wm. Kent Krueger, PJ Vernon, and me. What we have in common is that each of us writes in multiple subgenres — the list Kris read off was amazing, and amusing!

The conversation kicked off with a question about what we read — and alphabetical order put me first! Writers, I pointed out, don’t read like readers who don’t write. We’re always studying, noticing what an author does, how well it works, whether it fails and why and how could the problem have been solved or avoided. “Reading forensically,” Rachel called it. When we first start writing, this can take some of the joy out of reading. “Ruined for reading,” as Carol said.

But now, after thirteen published books, I realize that for me, the noticing has become part of the joy. I can both relish what I read and notice what insights it prompts for me, for my own work.

My co-panelists all agreed. There can be moments of jealousy — “premise envy,” as its sometimes called. (I felt that when I read Kent’s This Tender Land — oh, what a terrific story and lead character!) Envy of a fluidity with language, a comfort with metaphor and description, an ability to make a setting pop or set a mood that keeps us glued to the page long after we should turn out the light. Rachel glowed when she described a rare afternoon home alone, her day job work done, when she simply sat and read. And PJ talked about the importance of “cross-pollenization,” when you read, for example, a literary mystery like Kent’s and see a few things you can borrow for your suspense novel, or how an approach to portraying one underrepresented community can influence writing about another.

I also quoted a piece of advice from Elizabeth George, who is as great a teacher as she is a writer. She says “read up.” That is, read writers who are working at a level or in a style or genre you aspire to. While I try to follow that bit of wisdom, I’ve also discovered I can learn something from almost anything I read. And learning is part of the joy.

(The More Than Malice panel discussions were recorded and are available at the Malice website to conference registrants.)

Writing Wednesday — writing about different generations

A while back, I attended a video webinar sponsored by the Washington State Bar Association on bridging generational differences in the workplace. The theory was that boomers, Gen Xers, Millennials, and Gen Z approach work differently, have different expectations about the work environment, and take a different approach to leadership.

While working on the next Spice Shop mystery, I pulled up the handout — and because I’m a Boomer, albeit a late one, I printed it out. :) Pepper’s employees range from 22 to past 60; she’s 43. Her friends in the Market are equally spread across the age categories. A major new character was 24. I wanted to understand the differences. Obviously, comfort with technology is one — Sandra and Vinny aren’t going to be 24/7 with their cell phones the way Reed and Jamie are. What else? Generally speaking, Boomers want to be recognized for their experience, want to be motivated to make a difference, and want to be part of a team — perfect for retail. Gen Xers prefer a casual atmosphere and a hands-off manager — works for me, as it gives Pepper lots of freedom to leave her shop on investigations! Milennials want a fun workplace, a positive contribution to the world, and both a challenge and flexibility. All those are easy traits to work with in creating, or discovering, our characters.

Then I read an opinion piece in the Washington Post by a sociologist challenging the use of these terms. Generational labels have “no basis in social reality,” Philip Cohen writes, and should be retired; they lead to stereotypes and caricatures. Donald Trump (born 1946) and Michelle Obama (born 1964) are both Boomers — and two more different people you could not find. That they were both born in a post-WW II population boom is pretty much coincidental. Sociologists and demographers recently sent a plea to the Pew Research Center, responsible for much of the generational labeling and research, to use alternative categories, and Cohen says the response has been encouraging. Cohen stresses that there are other ways to describe groups of people that are more useful, such as decades, or issues, like “2020 school kids.” There are so many more influences than simple generations, such as race, gender, home access to technology, and immigrant status. I’d add a urban/suburban/rural background, parental education, growing up in a religious or nonreligious family, and more.

We’re writing characters who can be characterized in specific ways, but must always remain individuals. Stereotypes are bad for fiction! In the WIP, for example, a brother and sister were raised apart — and oh, the differences! Calling one a Millennial and the other Gen X may be a good way to start, but that’s all it is.

BOTTOM LINE: Use categories like generational labels to start your character analysis, but go beyond them. Make your characters individuals, who may share common experiences with others their age, but are always influenced by so much more than when they were born.

Writing Wednesday — dressing your characters, part 2

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about using the way your characters dress to convey their work, their hobbies, and their personality, and how that differs with age and locale. But you can also use a piece of personal style for deeper purposes.

In Chai Another Day, my fourth Spice Shop mystery, Pepper encounters a woman who always dresses in black and wears beautiful cinnabar pendants. Turns out the woman, Melissa Kwan, began buying them for good luck after her young son became ill. The boy’s illness, and its effects on the family, twist her judgment and lead her to attack another woman, who Melissa sees as the beneficiary of her own misfortunes. When Melissa later comes after Pepper, the cord breaks and the pendant slides across the floor, catching just enough light for Pepper to see it and identify her attacker. It’s a symbol of all Melissa had hoped for and all she’s lost, in one shiny red object. But it’s good luck for Pepper, who then knows how she can get the upper hand and hope to survive.

Pack the objects that matter to your characters with meaning, and we’ll all be able to identify with them.

Writing Wednesday — getting out of your characters’ way

My friend Donnell Bell found this quote from me, in a long-ago online discussion, in her files and made this fun graphic. I honestly don’t remember the context or the conversation, but I know what I meant — or what it means to me now. To create a well-rounded character, you need to give them deep backstory. Give them baggage — experiences, emotions, biases, misconceptions they don’t see or don’t want to change, flaws they don’t want to acknowledge or fix. Aches, joys, jealousies, regrets, and fantasies. When you give them a full suitcase and you know what’s in it, you can unpack it at just the right time. You can pull out an experience that gives your character a particular way of seeing events and responding to them, you can hear that amazing bit of wisdom or that horrible misjudgment come out of their mouths. When they act from their own mixed bag of life, they’ll come alive on the page.

And what do I mean by keeping your own baggage to a minimum? Simply that you need to stay out of your characters’ way. When they horrify you, let them. When they say something that makes you cringe, write it down. Reserve judgment. Let that first draft be all theirs. Only when you have a complete draft is it time to exercise some judgment. Maybe the character showed a side of himself that’s exactly right and you didn’t plan it or expect it, but you unlatched the bag and out it came. In revision, you can decide if it’s too much or needs to be played up. Your writing voice, your subconscious, may have seen opportunities your conscious mind would have been blind to. Get it all out, see what you have, and then edit, sharpen, and polish.

That’s the best way to take your readers on a real trip.

Writing Wednesday — Common Mistakes Writers Make About the Law

If you’re a member of Sisters in Crime — and if not, what are you waiting for? — you may have watched the webinar I gave in October 2020 called Common Mistakes Writers Make About the Law. (Members can watch it free in the archives.) Or you might have heard me talk on the subject at the Writers’ Police Academy, Colorado Gold conference, or Flathead River Writers’ Conference. It’s an important subject and one I enjoy discussing.

But when I read the third book in a few months in which a character is arrested and immediately given Miranda warnings, I realized it might be time for a refresher. Herewith, a repeat of an article I wrote for The Writer (September 2013). (And if you want more details on using the law in your fiction, check out my guide for writers, Books, Crooks and Counselors: How to Write Accurately About Criminal Law and Courtroom Procedure (Linden/Quill Driver, 2011). Pay close attention — especially to the section on Miranda warnings.

Books, Crooks, and Councelors

LAW & ARDOR: Writing about legal themes? An attorney identifies 10 common mistakes to avoid in your fiction (Originally published in The Writer, September 2013)

If you’re writing fiction, chances are a legal thread runs through your story. On screen or on the page, legal issues are often central to plots and backstory.

In mysteries and thrillers, past crimes may surface with present ramifications. Law enforcement officers and P.I.s need to know what’s legal and what isn’t. Amateur sleuths—the chef, gardener, or librarian—may start digging because they fear police won’t investigate or will nab the wrong suspect.

The law figures in mainstream and literary novels, too. And legal plots don’t require a crime. With a good storyteller, civil law can be gripping. Think of the possibilities in adoption (Jacquelyn Mitchard’s A Theory of Relativity; Ann Patchett’s Run), inheritance (Dickens’ Bleak House), even insurance (Double Indemnity, Billy Wilder’s movie based on James M. Cain’s novella).

But the law can be confusing, too. It changes constantly, and varies from state to state. Information and misinformation abound. Plus most of us, thank goodness, live happy lives without facing serious legal trouble. What follows is one lawyer-novelist’s list of common mistakes—and tips on avoiding them.

1. Using the wrong terms to identify prosecutors and courts.
On  TV’s Law & Order—and I love the show—the prosecutor is the D.A. In other stories, she may be the county attorney or prosecutor, the state’s attorney, even the people’s attorney. A  handle like commonwealth’s attorney might be shortened to “the prosecutor.” Does she try cases in District Court, Circuit Court, or Superior Court? If the terminology baffles you, call the court or prosecutor’s office, the state bar, or a law professor. You may even find a source to answer future questions.

2. Assuming law enforcement officers need a warrant to make an arrest.
Police don’t need a warrant to make an arrest in a public place, or in “exigent circumstances,” such as when an officer witnesses a crime or pursues a suspect. But police still need probable cause—that is, a reasonable belief, based on facts, that a particular person is responsible for a particular crime. “Mere suspicion” is not enough.

3. Confusing direct and circumstantial evidence.
Evidence is anything offered at trial to prove a fact necessary to the elements of the case—testimony, documents, or physical evidence like a gun or DNA test results. Direct evidence is evidence of a fact. Circumstantial evidence is evidence of a fact that leads to an inference or presumption.

An illustration: You tell your kids not to eat the brownies until after dinner. You see your son snatch one—direct evidence of disobedience. You don’t see your daughter touch the plate, but you spot chocolate smears around her mouth and crumbs on her shirt—circumstantial evidence.

In both civil and criminal law, circumstantial evidence may be enough to make the case. If the other side objects, the judge must rule on whether to allow (admit) it or not. The standard is relevance: Does it make facts that matter to the case more or less probable?

4. Giving every suspect a Miranda warning.
A warning is required only before custodial interrogation. In other words, only persons in custody need to be warned, and even then, only before questioning. Voluntary statements by persons not in custody or not made in response to questioning are admissible. A suspect who’s been warned may waive his rights and agree to talk. Of course, mistakes are fodder for defense lawyers—and writers.

5. Failing to distinguish between state and federal crimes.
A crime doesn’t get to be federal just because it’s important. Federal crimes are violations of federal statutes. They include many (but not all) drug and firearms offenses, kidnaping across state lines, and offenses related to securities or banking, immigration, war, terrorism, or interstate communications, or occurring on federal property. Regulatory offenses, such as pollution violations, may be federal crimes. If a crime violates state law, the state prosecutes. Some conduct may violate both state and federal laws, triggering a tug-of-war over jurisdiction. State court systems handle the majority of civil and criminal litigation—about 95%.

If your fictional crime is set in Indian Country, do your research. While the FBI investigates crimes on many reservations, as in Tony Hillerman’s Leaphorn and Chee novels, state authorities exercise full or partial jurisdiction on others.

6. Assuming a felon can’t vote or own a gun.
Restoration of civil rights—including voting and gun ownership—after a felony conviction is complex. The Sentencing Project, a national organization promoting sentencing reform, estimates that full or partial state bans—many applicable even after a sentence has been fully served—deny the vote to 5.8 million people and have a disparate racial impact.

While federal felons are barred from gun ownership for life, state law varies widely. Some states prevent or limit gun ownership by persons convicted of violent felonies, but allow it after the sentence is served, including probation. Waiting periods may apply. Court process may be required. Some states permit ownership of hunting rifles but bar handguns.

Debate rages over the constitutional implications of voting and gun restrictions and their effect on a person’s ability to re-enter society. Does your character live in fear of an ex-con ex-husband with a gun—or worry that she can’t buy a gun to protect herself because of her own record? Is your fictional legislator’s re-election in dispute because a faulty list prevents hundreds of ex-felons from voting?

Change will continue, so check your story state’s laws.

7. Referring to guilt in a civil suit for damages.
A criminal defendant will be found guilty or not guilty (not “innocent”). A civil defendant is either liable for the plaintiff’s damages or not—the concept of guilt does not apply.

Unlike criminal guilt, civil liability is not all or nothing. In a personal injury claim, the jury may decide that the plaintiff—the party bringing suit—contributed to her injuries by her own negligence. If her negligence reaches a certain level—typically more than 50%—she may be prevented from recovering damages. Multiple defendants may share liability.

Picture a slip-and-fall: A shop owner fails to shovel her sidewalk and allows ice to form. A woman falls and breaks her arm—but she walked there daily, knew the danger, and was on her phone. A neighboring shop owner had promised to shovel, but forgot. Who’s liable, meaning who pays? The jury decides.

8. Sentencing a defendant minutes after a criminal conviction.
Sentencing is a separate proceeding, usually held after a pre-sentence investigation by a probation officer or other investigator (terminology varies). Prosecutors and defense counsel need time to review the report and make recommendations. A few weeks is typical. Sooner is possible—Casey Anthony was sentenced a few days after the verdict, but the charges she was convicted of were relatively minor and circumstances may have triggered an expedited proceeding.

Sentence may be imposed right away if a defendant enters into a plea agreement—but only after lengthy negotiations that include evaluation of all the factors that go into a pre-sentence investigation.

If you need sentence imposed quickly to get your character to prison, build in facts that let you do so. Just don’t let your fictional judge hear the verdict and impose sentence without taking a breath.

9. Allowing lawyers—or their clients—to argue with the judge, especially after she’s ruled.
Don’t do it—not if you care about your characters or their case. But if you want to irritate your fictional judge, go ahead. Your chances of success are excellent.

And don’t let your characters interrupt in court, unless you want them hauled to the slammer for contempt.

10. Introducing new evidence on appeal.
Appeals are decided strictly on the record below—meaning the evidence, including testimony, and legal arguments. Parties to an appeal may not present new witnesses or argue legal issues not previously raised. As part of its decision, though, an appellate court might order the trial court to reopen a case to consider evidence or arguments previously excluded.

In a criminal case, new evidence may surface weeks, months, even years after conviction. Other procedures exist to ask a judge to reopen a case after the appeals process has ended.

Obviously, mistakes happen in real life, which is why lawyers file motions to suppress evidence or dismiss charges (in criminal cases), motions to exclude evidence or dismiss claims (the civil terminology), and appeals. But mistakes also add to the drama and create great opportunities for tension and conflict.

Is it ever okay to make a mistake on purpose, to fool the reader? Not in my book. Exaggerate a bit for drama, sure, but deliberately building a story on a faulty premise breaks faith with the reader. As prosecutor turned novelist Marcia Clark said in a panel discussion on forensics in fiction, “The more we tell the truth, the more dramatic it is.” We don’t need to lie about the facts to tell a good story—we need to find the story they tell.

Writers who take time to check legal terms and principles will discover terrific opportunities to twist, deepen, complicate, or simplify their stories. Getting the details right can make all the difference.

 Tracking Down Those Pesky Details

The National Center for State Courts website includes directories of all state court systems with court structure charts, and of public defender systems.

The Sentencing Project map tracks state incarceration, probation, parole, and disenfranchisement rates.

The NRA maintains a directory of state gun laws.

The American Bar Association charts summarize state statutes on domestic violence, stalking, protective orders, and related issues.

– For state-by-state specifics on recording conversations, see this guide from The Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press.

The FBI maintains a directory of state and tribal sex offender registration laws.

Leslie Budewitz, a practicing lawyer, won the 2011 Agatha Award for Best Nonfiction for Books, Crooks and Counselors: How to Write Accurately About Criminal Law and Courtroom Procedure. Her mystery Death al Dente is set in Northwest Montana, where she lives.