A brief pause in my whirlwind

I've been on-the-go, as they say, a lot recently. So much so that I emailed my schedule to my hubby, just in case I forgot to tell him anything. In the past two weeks, I've been to Bouchercon, two library events, a book club, have I told you about the Placentia Heritage Festival? Stories to tell, my friends, stories to tell.

And then Soupy Sales died.

There are probably TONS of people who don't have a clue who Soupy Sales was, but he was as much a part of my childhood as Captain Kangaroo. Yeah, I know - you haven't heard of him, either.






The Soupy Sales Show was a little like Pee Wee's Playhouse, without the creepy factor. There was a lot of comic banter with his two "dogs", White Fang and Black Tooth, which were just enormous paws that would wave out from the camera while they "talked." Their words were just the same kind of "whaa" syllables, like saying the word rat but replacing the r with a wh-sound. White Fang had a gruff voice and Black Tooth had a mewling voice.



Then there were the two puppets at the window, Pookie the Lion and Hippy the Hippopotamus. I don't think either of them spoke, but Pookie would lip-sync Frank Sinatra singing "Young At Heart" which always used to crack me up.

Somewhere in the episode, Soupy would get a pie in the face, and he was fond of dancing and leaping. It's possible he was a little hyperactive. I'm glad they didn't try to treat it.




But what I remember the most vividly is the door. At some point there would be a knock at the door and Soupy would answer. Sometimes it was a famous person. Sometimes they'd show some clip from an old movie, like cowboys galloping and shooting toward the camera or an elephant stampede from a Tarzan movie. Once the crew played a trick on Soupy and had a naked lady, out of scene, greet him at the door.

When I wrote Freezer Burn, I put the Soupy Sales door idea into practice a few times. I had my major scenes planned, but there were some supporting scenes that I let myself wander around in. One of the setups I used was in Peri's office; there would be a knock at the door. Who would it be?

I was thinking of Soupy's show when I wrote these. I'd get a brief flash of a ridiculous jungle scene in my head, laugh, then start writing, which might have accounted for this exerpt:

The printer had just completed its job when the door opened and a tall, muscular man entered. His suit looked expensive, but he did not. Acne scars defined his shiny face, his small dark eyes were shadowed by thick, tangled brows. If baboons wore Armani, this is what they'd look like.

"You the private dick?"

"Private investigator," she told him. "How may I help you?"

He stood close to her desk, leaning slightly forward, his feet apart, and hands clasped together in front. "I represent a client who is interested in the Forever Roses ring. My client would like to be sure the ring goes to the rightful owner."

I can honestly say, I don't think I would have taken this approach to my book if I hadn't watched that goofy man open his door every week - and yes, sometimes he got a pie in the face.

Thank you, Soupy. I'll miss you.

'Nuff said.

So how does a writer who has been raised in a box of 500 words pen a 60,000 word novel?
I actually read, in a writer's online group, a writer who said she had the main points of her novel written, and then she was going to go back and fill in the rest with fluff.
No. No. No. Words are not packing material. Every chapter has to go somewhere, has to mean something. If you are reading this and thinking, why, yes, I'll just put some verbal peanuts around my main points and voila - put down the pen, step away from the Word document, and take up some other hobby.
The smarty pants answer is that I wrote 500 words 120 times. Seriously, for my first novel, I had some scenes in my head, and I wrote aimless words to get me from one vignette to the next. It's not a technique that I'd recommend. As a matter of fact, it reminds me of the Beatles' movie, Magical Mystery Tour. They thought they'd put a bunch of odd characters on a bus and film it - naturally, hilarity would ensue.
Hilarity did not ensue. It may have threatened to sue, I don't know.
For my next novel, I put an outline together. I've read interviews with lots of famous authors who scoff at outlining and still produce works of art. Good for them. I was writing my very first murder mystery and I wanted to make sure I had all of my clues in a row. My outline was not particularly detailed, but I described each chapter and what I wanted to happen.
This doesn't mean that I followed each chapter to the letter. I do have a few "Soupy Sales" moments in my book. For those of you who weren't raised in the Jurassic Era, Soupy Sales was a guy with a kid's show. Every show, there'd be a knock on Soupy's door and you never knew who was on the other side. Sometimes it was a famous person, sometimes it was a film clip of an old cowboy and indian movie, once it was a naked lady (we didn't see her, but you shoulda seen the look on Soupy's face).
So I never planned for Peri to meet the apish man who works for the collection agency, or the mother of the number one suspect in Marnie's murder. But I had started the chapter with Peri in her office, and there's a knock at the door... who's there?
They actually worked in the book, but I would never rely on Soupy moments.
Mostly, I was able to stretch my writing to novel length because I was able to linger on descriptions more than I am able to do in my columns. I could fill the readers' senses with the sights and smells and noises. I could add dialogue and observances that, while not absolutely necessary, fleshed the scene out. Peri and her cohorts could, hopefully, become real people to my readers.
And no, I didn't write it in 500-word chunks.