The essential thing is art, painting, a painting different from the painting everyone does.

But what sort?  Will God, or somebody else, give me the power to breathe into my canvases my sigh, the sigh of prayer and of sadness, the sigh of salvation, of re-birth?  ~Marc Chagall, My Life

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To My Readers (or Prospective Readers)

• I promise to write you the truest story I have in me.  I can’t guarantee it will knock your socks off, but I can promise to craft it with care.  No shortcuts or going for the cheap thrill.  I’ll always give you my best.
• I promise telling the story will always be more important than passing the hat.
• I promise to learn from my mistakes, avoid stagnancy, and grow in my art.
• I promise to remember a story is only half a story until someone reads it.  You, the reader, are my partner in the creative process.
• Finally, I promise gratitude for your reviews, whether you give my books five stars or one.  You took the time to read and review, and I appreciate it.

Thank you for stopping by!

Kathy DiSanto

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If I could write you a love song, I’d do it.
Sitting in this cool, silent cabin,
Watching through a window framed by
Pines the afternoon as it ages and dies,
I’d spin a melody in notes tender and
True enough to make the angels cry.

I think of you, always with longing, and a
Heart aching for what-could’ve-been,
What I daily pray will be.  And I tell myself,
“If only I could set love to music, paint it
In poetry of unsurpassed beauty, then ….”
Then … what?  I’m not sure I know.

If my song were a ‘plaint, the cry of love
Given begging for love returned, it
Would be an awfully tinny tune, falling oh
So flatly on the ear.  Anybody can write
A song like that.  The only note in those
Kinds of songs is an endless mi, mi, mi.

Still, if I’m honest, I can’t deny thinking,
As others lavish me with affection,
How golden life would be, if it were you
Here loving me.  No, I won’t deny that.
I’ve been a lot of things to you, not all
Of them good, but I won’t lie that way.

But, if you could trust me now, just for
A minute – now, as night creeps over
These forested hills – you’d understand
That, tonight, I’d only like to sing to you,
In words and melody too sublime to be
Disbelieved, “I love you.  I do love you.”

If I had music and lyrics enough,
Could I touch your heart?  Would you
Hear beyond the words that’ve become
All but meaningless to you?  Could you
Listen through expected sentiment to
Hear the beating heart beneath?

I really don’t know.  If you don’t know it’s
You I’m talking to, how can you hear
My song?  (If I wrote one.)  But God is
The Father of mercy; redemption is His
Specialty.  Maybe, someday, He’ll teach
Me to write my song, and you to hear it.

Until then, I’ll love you in silence, or speak
The words I have, even though you hear
The words only, missing the music that would
Bring them to life, fill them with power,
And sing my love song to your soul.
If I could write you a love song, I’d do it.

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Maybe I should have, but social networking has always seemed like an introvert’s dream to me.  You know, superficial communication conducted more or less on my terms and mostly from a distance—my personal, private parsec of cyberspace.

Now here I am, marketing one book and getting ready to release another and market that.  Translation:  I’m up to my ears in Tweets, Facebook messages, e-mails, random postings on any page that will take them … and I’m a wreck.  WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ALONE TIME?

Now, I don’t know if all authors are introverts, but a lot of us are.  Trouble is, 75% of the world’s population are extroverts, who tend to socialize every livelong chance they get.

They’ve got us surrounded, people.  So in the interests of peaceful coexistence, I offer the following checklist extroverts can use to recognize us.

But first, repeat after me:  Introversion ≠ shy.  (I’m constantly explaining that to folks who know me as an inveterate cut-up/class clown.)  A look at this list of famous introverts will help make my point:

• Albert Einstein (who had enough chutzpah to turn the world of physics on its head)
• Mahatma Gandhi (who had enough chutzpah to turn the British empire on its head)
• Dwight Eisenhower (who had enough chutzpah to turn the Third Reich on its head)
• Stephen Spielberg (who produces groundbreaking movies like ET, Letters from Iwo Jima and Schindler’s List)
• Michael Jordan (fearless on the basketball court
• , and a terrific salesman, although the less said about underwear here, the better)
• Steve Martin (a wild and crazy guy)
• Clint Eastwood (Dirty Harry, Gunny Hightower and the mayor of Carmel, mind you)
• Johnny Carson (yes, the Great Carnac himself)
• Mother Theresa (who touched the lives of millions in India and around the world)

Shy?  I don’t think so.

Now that we’ve cleared up that misconception, here are a few ways you can separate genuine introverts from everybody else.  You might be dealing with introverts, if …

• their favorite spots at any given party are cozy corners where they can happily, albeit safely, observe extroverts in action.
• their first reaction to stress is a desire for space and plenty of it.
• their last reaction to stress is a desire to talk about what’s bugging them.
• they think a good weekend is one when nobody calls, visits, or emails.
• they hold life’s most important bits close to the vest.
• they like people but prefer them in small doses and need time alone to recharge after contact.
• their mental calendars are full, their social calendars, not so much … and that’s fine and dandy with them.
• their worst nightmares are well-meaning friends or relatives who have decided introverts are shy or lonely or depressed and just need to be “drawn out.”
• they visit a new church and hesitate to fill out the visitor’s card, because they know it will unleash a kindly, completely overwhelming torrent of invitations to a) join small groups, b) come to dinner or c) “get together and chat.”

I hope all the extroverts out there are paying attention.  If you are, and you’ve suddenly realized your BFF is an INFP, don’t panic.  Check out the following tips, take them to heart, and you’ll earn our undying gratitude.  Trust me on this.

1. Don’t take it personally, when we go hedgehog.  It’s not you, it’s us.  We’re not mad, we still love you, we just need some time alone to recharge.  Depending on the circumstances, recharging can take anywhere from 5 minutes to 5 months.
2. Don’t ask, “Are you all right?” or “Is anything wrong?” or “Do you want to talk?”  The answers are:  “Yes,” and, “Only the fact that I’m not alone right now,” and, “Absolutely not, but I’ll call you, if that changes.”
3. If you’re getting grunts, hmmms, other monosyllabic answers, or that I’m-in-an-alternative-universe stare, we probably need some space.
4. We do occasionally explode into nonstop chatter.  This usually happens after a prolonged period of “working things out in our heads.”  Pretend you’re listening, smile and nod, remind yourself that this, too, shall pass.  (And count yourself lucky; these eruptions tend to be infrequent.)
5. In times of extreme stress, we find invitations, phone calls, shooting the breeze and email forwards that have to be returned under threat of gaining 10 pounds extremely taxing.  Like Greta Garbo, we want to be alone.  We want peace and quiet.  We need to think, to process.  (As opposed to extroverts, who seem to process everything out loud.  I can’t tell you how many times an extrovert has told me—in excruciating detail—about his/her current problem, then concluded cheerfully, “Thanks for helping me with that!”  How that works, I have no idea.)
6. Finally, when we really start to get on your nerves, remember:  While we’re doing our withdrawn-uncommunicative-introversion thing, we may be formulating the Theory of Everything or composing the Great American Novel or inventing the solution that will permanently straighten your naturally curly hair.  Don’t interrupt the flow, anticipate the results.

(In the interest of transparency, this post is modified from one I wrote for another blog.)

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To be, or not to be, the woman you were engineered to be?

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Think about it.

Tags on mattresses, threatening you with Alcatraz if you tear them off.  Tags on shirt collars, sanding the fine hairs off the back of your neck.  The tags on your dog’s collar that sound like the chimes on Big Ben every time she shakes her head.  The tags on your car that cost you an arm and a leg.  Facebook tags:  ”Hey, Bob, was that really you with a can of Bud in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other?”

See what I mean?

Tags are seditious, that’s what they are.  Especially when you’re writing dialogue.  (Slick transition, yes?)

Okay, let’s stop here a second, so I can make one fact very clear:  I AM NOT AGAINST ALL TAGS, ALL THE TIME.  But IMHO, the only good tag is a vital tag, i.e., one that serves a definite purpose.  What, you want examples?  Fair enough.  Vital tags ….

• identify the speaker, when the flow of dialogue may be confusing without them (e.g., there are more than two speakers or when a block of narrative has interrupted the dialogue),
• contribute emotional data (e.g., reveal excitement, joy, anger, desperation, sadness, etc.),
• help control the rhythm of a conversation,
• add humor,
• and do other stuff I probably can’t think of right now.

When it comes to tags, my first personal rule of thumb is this:  If you can avoid using a tag, do it.  If there’s any other way to identify the speaker, use it.  (This is what we wordsmiths call a Compound Rule.)

My second personal rule of thumb is this:  If you decide to use a tag, don’t get silly with it.

Now lest you think I’m just overly picky, I’m not the only author with strong feelings on the subject.  In his book, On Writing, Stephen King comes down hard on excessive tagging.  He also claims said is the only tag you need, but I beg to differ.  (Pretty gutsy, huh?  Arguing with one of the most prolific, best-selling authors of our time?)  There’s nothing wrong with a said here or there, but too many saids make me want to beat my head against the wall.  Robert B. Parker, one of my favorite authors, is a famous example of what I like to call the Said Syndrome.  If saids were pepper, his otherwise marvelous dialogue would give me heartburn.  (And that’s not counting the passages where he bounced said around intentionally to evoke humor.  Believe it or not, said can be funny, but you want to make sure you’re funny with it on purpose.)

So how can you identify the speaker without resorting to tags?  Well, one way is to sandwich some identifying action into the conversation.

I shook my head.  ”I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”  Hank washed a hand down his face.  ”But damn it, I can’t think of any other way.”

If only two people are talking, you can get away without tags and/or description for a long time.  Probably not indefinitely, but for a page or two.  Straight, unadorned dialogue is a great way to pick up the pace or deliver a lot of back-story/facts in a hurry.  Of course, as with any writing technique, too much is too much.  Pages and pages of dialogue stripped of tags and/or description can become tedious.

Dialogue involving more than two speakers needs tags.  Only way I know of to help the reader keep everybody straight.  Okay, I might need tags in this case, but I still like to be stingy with them.  Say three people are in the room and two are going back and forth.  Maybe I can dispense with a few tags there.  Soon as the third guy jumps in with his two cents, I gotta have ‘em.  (Tags, not his two cents.)

Unlike Brother King, I like to vary tags, but in a natural way.  Meaning, I don’t turn contortionist or wear out my thesaurus trying to come up with unusual tags.  I always pay attention to context when I pick a tag, making it do as much work as possible.  Here are a few I use:

• insisted
• mused
• murmured
• interjected (I don’t use this often, but I like it when it fits.)
• prodded
• snapped
• rasped
• pointed out
• offered (as a suggestion)
• suggested

Here are a few tags I have seen in best-selling novels that, to my ear at least, sound stilted and silly:

• lectured
• declared
• pronounced
• proclaimed (unless used humorously)
• cried (I admit, this one seems very popular.  Different strokes, as they say.)
• declaimed
• drolled (Really?)
• demanded (I always figure this should be understood from the context.)
• postulated
• any tag that calls to mind waistcoats and bustles (Unless the characters in question are actually wearing waistcoats or bustles.  Period pieces have a voice all their own.)

I reserve final judgment on my tags (or lack of them) until I read the dialogue out loud.  If I can hear the give and take, and if I don’t stumble over any of the tags, I figure I’m on the right track.  Last test is to let somebody else read it and see if they can follow along.

Writing dialogue can be a real challenge, but it’s also fun.  Just keep it natural and don’t start playing tag.

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Amanda’s Eyes got off to a slow start.  How slow?  Well, picture me, driving home from work yesterday, one hand on the wheel, one fist waving in heaven’s face.

“Hey!  How about some help down here?  I can’t even give away my book!”

God only knows what my fellow motorists thought.  Loco seems likely.  Then again, this is Texas.  Everybody’s crazy.

I guess He hears snarky prayers, too, because by early evening, Amanda was hitting her stride.  By mid-morning today, she was running like Secretariat.  As of this writing, the book is in Amazon’s Top 100 in the Kindle Free Store (up from 180,000-something), #15 among Mysteries/Thrillers.  All this with 9 hours to go.

Am I happy?  Does my dog, Molly, have cute lil’ pig ears?  You bet!

I mean … YOWZA!

I’m living in the moment, and the moment is sah-weet.  But I’m also looking ahead.  Trying to be realistic.  No easy task for a novelist, but overblown expectations are wax wings, and I don’t aspire to be the next Icarus.

For once in my life, I’m paying attention.  I get it.  Amazon is as fluid as the river it may or may not be named after.  Tributaries up the wazoo.  Hundreds, maybe thousands, of books flood in every day.  Promoting your own book is like trying to dance on that river—it’s hard to keep your head above water.

In the past 36 hours, thousands of readers downloaded Amanda’s Eyes.  No way that’s a bad thing.  That is, in fact, an amazingly terrific, stupendously awesome, squeal-producing wonderment!

But how do I know the folks who got the book will read actually it?  If they do read it, will they like it?  If they like it, will they take the time to review it?

Aye, there’s the rub.

Because reviews are key.  They’re my life jacket.  Without them, the mighty Amazon will swallow me up and roll on.

So I’m crossing my fingers, saying my prayers, waiting to see if hope really does float.

Meanwhile …. YOWZA!

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Excellent read …. I had a very hard time putting it down!

Exciting plot line, rich use of language and nuance, and great characters. The author totally nailed it.

Many times throughout the book I caught myself thinking “Man, this part is going to be really awesome in the movie!”

The dialogue is sharp & quick, more is inferred than spoken and the humor is wry.

Get your copy of Amanda’s Eyes today at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008NP1LGQ.

It’s free.  As in, gratis.  As in, no charge.  Today and tomorrow.

What have you got to lose?

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Worse yet, I’m stuck at the beginning.

Stuck after 1,000 words.

And I have to throw out two or three hundred of those.

Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have an entire novel log-jam in your head?  Of course you do.  Do you ever get stuck and think, “Oh.  My.  God.  It’s all over.  My life is over!  I will never write again!”?  (Or wonder if you got the punctuation right when you typed that out?)

At this rate, Mind Games should hit Amazon somewhere around March 31, 2021.  I’ll be a big celebrity at the home.

Well, I’m not putting up with it.  The stuck stops here.  I’m breaking out all my patented block-busters.

• Free writing.  We’re talking colored markers, people.  (“Made with Recycled Plastic and Preferred by Teachers!”)  Stream-of-consciousness word doodles scattered randomly across cheap drawing paper.  NO LINES.  Think technicolor word cloud.  Think word association.  Word play.  Word up.  My word!

This is how I turn off the editor.  Tell the perfectionist nag-ette, the critic on my shoulder, to put a sock in it.  Abandon linear thinking all ye who enter here!  IMAGINATION UNCHAINED!

Or, as I like to say, “Laissez les bon mots rouler!”

Other block-busters include:

• Walks with my dog, Molly
• Hot baths with good reads
• A few minutes of yoga (or what passes for yoga around here)
• A glass (or three) of Llano Sweet Red
• Writing blog posts

Might take a couple days, but inspiration, here I come!  At least, that’s how it usually works.

Better than beating my head against the wall like I’ve been doing.

So, to quote Daffy Duck, “Yoiks, and away!”

Onward through the fog!

Excelsior!

And thank God for caffeine.

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