Rachael Herron

(R.H. Herron)

Rachael

Plot MD

Last night, I went to hear my dear friend Adrienne Bell teach from her book, Plot MD: Your Personal Prescription for Crafting Compelling Stories. You know that thing where you believe you know how awesome your friends are and then they blow you away? (It’s always one of the most delicious surprises of life.) Yeah, that happened.

I love Adrienne’s book. I’ve had her on my podcast. And still, hearing her speak about her method of generating organic story structure for novelists absolutely rocked my world.

See, I just got my revision letter for the thriller that’s coming out next year. It’s probably the nicest revision letter I’ve ever gotten. I know how to make all the fixes, and I can’t wait to do so. However, I had this niggling feeling that I still didn’t understand the characters as much as I needed to in order to create a truly effective emotional journey for my reader.

There, speaking into the microphone to a packed house, Adrienne walked us through her character arc worksheet.

People, going into this revision and listening to her, I suddenly know incredibly clearly what I need to do for my main character.

And you know why I had such a revelation?

Because I finally filled out the character arc worksheet on paper.

Adrienne’s is a completely unique way of looking at character change, one that I’ve never seen anyone else teach.

When I’d read her book, of course, I’d read the worksheet.

But you know how you do. You read the book, you think through the exercises, but you don’t do them. You think you’ve gotten it.

I am reminded, again, that this methodology does not work! For you writers out there, I can’t recommend more highly getting her book and DOING the worksheets.

My own book has cracked wide open, and the answers to my problems with the main character were solved in a few directed moments of thought last night.

Then I went to the cafe this morning and mapped it out for the other characters. It was INSANELY HELPFUL.

Dance with the scratch paper that brought you

Adrienne is the magical plot whisper for our time, and if you need help with your plot, I definitely think you should hire her. (She coaches!) I am planning to when I need her, which I will on the next book! (She finally said yes, that she’ll accept money from a friend because we are business-women, damn it!)

*I’m not an affiliate. I just love her and she’s magic. 

Get to know Adrienne Bell, Plot MD.

Thrilling News!

I worked 911 dispatch for seventeen years. As I’m incredibly young, this might come as a shock to you. How could this be true? I know, I really have no idea.

Two and a half years ago, I left that job to become a full-time writer. It was a huge leap of faith, but it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Obviously, while I was working 911, I couldn’t write about a dispatcher. Even though I write fiction, and I make everything up, it wouldn’t have reflected well on the agency I worked for. Any news outlet that wanted to talk about my book would link it back to that agency, and I didn’t want to lose my job.

But heck! When I stopped working and went full-time? All bets were off.

I could finally write the book of my heart.

And today I am able to announce to you that my very first thriller, Stolen Things, will be coming out in August 2019, from Dutton Books/Penguin. From today’s Publisher’s Marketplace’s announcement:

Coming in Aug 2019 from Dutton Books.

In Stolen Things, Laurie answers 911, and the voice on the other end is her sixteen-year-old daughter. Jojo is in the dark, something really bad has happened, and her mother must find her. (And that’s just the beginning!)

I AM SO EXCITED! My new editor, Stephanie Kelly, is the absolute tops, and I’m already loving working with her. She really gets every single thing I was trying to do with this book, and she’s helping me make it my best book so far.

And I could never have done this without my beloved agent, Susanna Einstein, who took this book through endless iterations, each time getting me to up the tension and pacing (because I like too many slow, sweet moments to be appropriate for a thriller).

I can’t wait for y’all to read this. Feeling so happy and grateful.

Coming in Aug 2019 from Dutton Books.

I Talked To Strangers About Politics and Didn’t Die

Scroll down to see how to get a pair of socks, knitted for you by me. 

On Saturday, I went out to register voters. I was stumping for a congressional candidate on Saturday (Josh Harder, who is absolutely blowing his shot to have his campaign slogan be VOTE HARDER but seems like a great candidate). I never thought I’d be the person to stand on a corner, asking strangers to talk about politics. But 2018 isn’t like other years, is it?

Two of my best friends and I went together to join a Swing Left campaign. The whole idea behind to Swing Left is to flip the House to a Democratic majority. They match you up with the district nearest you that needs help with this. (Put in your own zip code!)

While we worked on Saturday, we were official volunteers with the Tracy Democrats Club, badges and everything.

Me, Juliet Blackwell, and Adrienne Bell

We stood around the mall and tried to get people to talk to us.

And it went exactly as you think it would. Most people gave us the headshake or the deer in the headlights look as they raced past as fast as they could.

I get it. I am always that guy. Where I live in Oakland, wherever I go there’s a paid person trying to get my name on some kind of petition.

On this: I have a friend who works in self-defense, and she noticed one day that these paid signature gatherers were using tactics that only people with bad boundaries use. In other words, they were being paid to be well trained and excellent harassers.

So she doubled back and told them of her interest in this fact, and got them to talk to her about how they work. They are trained not to respond to obvious clues like protective language and body movements, the things we all take for granted. The funniest part was when she left, he attempted his spiel for real on her again.

Those are the people that terrify me. I will go a block out of my way to avoid passing in front of one.

Me and my pals? We were not professionals.

We would ask, we’d get shot down, and we’d smile and wait for the opportunity to try again. (Seriously, send writers to do these jobs! We are PROS at rejection! Get out of your face? Of course, sir! Ma’am, may I talk to you?)

I think my favorite answer was one woman who barked, “I don’t talk politics with anyone!” I can totally respect that.

But the answers that broke my heart were the ones we got from people who said they were too disheartened to vote. They were distraught with the direction of the country and truly thought their vote wouldn’t change anything.

Of course, we know this might be true! That’s heartbreaking in another, agonizing way.

But we have to fight. We have to do things we don’t want to do. We have to push past comfort points. Yes, it does wonders for the soul to hold the sign and stand in the middle of the street and shout at the top of your lungs how enraged you are with the injustices of this country.

Going to a protest doesn’t do very much, though.

We all know that in our hearts, even though we hate to admit it. We’re shouting into echo chambers made of high-rise walls.

Getting out there, trying to get people to register to vote, telling them about the Democratic candidate who could make a difference in their district, that felt like doing something for once. (We weren’t arguing politics. We didn’t engage with Republicans. No one ever changed their mind based on a conversation with a stranger in a mall. We were focused on one thing: Getting our voters out in November.)

And while it was truly AGONIZING, I’ll do it again. And I’ll probably be exactly as uncomfortable next time. That’s okay. It fed my soul more than making a banner.

Registering voters was harder than I thought, and I'd do it again.

Are you registered?

Edited to add: I’ll knit a pair of socks (my choice of colors – I have to enjoy it!) for the first three people who register (who weren’t before) and pledge to vote! (You’ll send me a pic of yourself with your “I Voted” sticker and get the socks! It’ll be November and getting cold!) Don’t you need socks? GO HERE to find out how to do it in your state and then let me know! First three get ’em.

What a Difference a Day Makes #510pups

Early this morning I got a text from Bethany: I think someone might be having puppies.

I knew she was wrong – I’d palpated Little Molly’s (the weekend rescue) belly just the day before, wondering if she was preggers and hadn’t felt a thing. She didn’t bulge anywhere. I called her back. “We should go to the vet right now. She’s not pregnant, so if she’s in pain like that, there much be something really wrong.”

Bethany said, “No. It’s labor.”

Still not believing her, I said, “I’m on my way.”

She was right. She’s usually right. Sure enough, Little Molly popped out two puppers. The first took a while and was stressful for all of us, but she did everything right and little Athol was born and cleaned and (s)he suckled right away.

Iris basically fell out with no ceremony, so I think Little Molly was surprised and didn’t do the same amount of work. We had to help a little more.

All three are healthy and Little Molly is doing a great job. Bethany and I are going to share foster duties till they can all be adopted. (Maybe YOU need a wee darling! Little Molly is so sweet I feel these matching pups are going to be the same.)

But whoa, this was a HELL of a surprise. What a fine one, though. And how lucky I feel that I could take the day off work and watch.

Welcome, wee ones. You’re going to have great lives.

Little Molly, A Dog Made of Love

I’ve written many times about the way my car seems to attract animals. At all times, I keep in my glovebox a leash and a small can of wet cat food (this smells good to all kinds of animals).

Driving home on Saturday, I turned onto our street and saw a woman letting two small dogs run around in the middle of the street. I rolled down my window so I could tell her they were cute with a “get your dogs out of the street” passive-aggressive tone of voice when she cried “They aren’t mine! I don’t know how to catch dogs!”

So I pulled over. One, a little terrier/dachshund mix was super friendly and came right to me. Her little friend who looked like she could have been her daughter was not so friendly. That little one seemed feral, as if she’d never been approached by a human.

While cuddling the warm little girl who was filthy and matted and covered with fleas and road grease, I debated with myself. My neighbor said they’d been living in a pile of clothes near her house for at least a week, eating the cat food she left outside for her outdoor cats. Both dogs had had puppies at some point recently. The cuddly pup in my arms didn’t seem to be lactating anymore, but the one still running in the street looked full of milk.

What the hell was I supposed to do? In all my animal-finding years, this dilemma has never occurred. If I rescued the one in my arms, that meant the one running terrified would be left all alone in the world.

It might sound dumb that this was distressing to me, but to be honest I’m still really upset about it.

But if I let the sweet girl in my arms go, she’d be running on busy city streets. One of them would certainly get hit by a car, and probably soon.

So I separated them. I felt like Doggy ICE.

The pup who we’re calling Little Molly, is being fostered by my sister Bethany, who recently lost her own dog.

Little Molly is even sweeter now that she’s clean and good smelling. She’s 11 pounds and full-grown, probably about two years old, and has probably had two litters already (THAT OR SHE’S PREGNANT – the vet tech couldn’t tell when Bethany got the chip scanned, and we’re waiting to be scheduled for a full vet visit).

The size of a laptop!

Her ears are soft, and her manner is 100% affection. Bethany has been working with a local rescue society, who has said that she’s totally adoptable because of her adorability — we just have to wait the city mandated two-weeks days to allow the owner to claim her.

That ain’t gonna happen, and we all know it.

A responsible owner wouldn’t have let this happen. A responsible owner would have microchipped her (which is law). At the very least, if she was beloved by someone who couldn’t afford to chip her, she would’ve had a tag. There would’ve been signs looking for her; there would’ve been a flyer at Animal Services.

No one’s looking for these dogs, and that breaks my heart.

It also breaks my heart that I couldn’t catch the other little pup, the younger one. I searched the area for puppies and found none. Whenever I took a step toward the feral mother, she ran, sometimes right into traffic. I never got closer than half a block to her, and I was causing more danger to her by trying to catch her. Animal Services in this town is too busy to pick up live dogs who aren’t a threat, so I’ve just been leaving food where she’s been seen. But I haven’t seen her in two days now.

It makes me crazy, y’all. Just half a block away is where one night, I saw a tiny black kitten run across the road and under a car. I stopped and crawled halfway under the chassis and pulled the wee thing out of the wheel well. That kitten, Crowley, is now my friend Martha’s favorite being in the universe. That one tiny animal has made all the difference in her life.

That little mama running the streets deserves a good home like Crowley, like Little Molly will soon inevitably have.

One loose dog is a seriously trivial thing in a world full of bad shit. I know that.

But still.

At least Little Molly will change someone’s life, and we got to help with that.

(Hit me up if you’re interested! She’s house-trained and a total love. Her main problem that we’ve seen is that she IS a total love. She wants to be a purse dog and touching you at all times. This is a dog for a person who wants to be adored ALL THE TIME without a break. She has separation anxiety which will ease with time and security, but she has a loud whine (no barks have been heard) so she’d make a better house dog than an apartment one. She got along fine with my Dozy. She doesn’t like to cross streets (for obvious reasons, I think). Pass it on!)

 Read about at the blog.