Category Archives: Writing

Shmoozing with Criminal Minds

It’s the highlight of my year so far: my book One for the Raven made the top-five shortlist for the 2019 Unhanged Arthur Ellis Award, which recognizes the “best unpublished first mystery novel” written by a Canadian or permanent resident. Thank you, Crime Writers of Canada.

So … what does that mean?

For one thing, I got to go to a fancy party in Toronto.

The 2019 Arthur Ellis Awards Gala

Two airplanes and three trains took us to Toronto’s Arts & Letters Club on Thursday, May 23. My arm candy included my bestie Quinn (who happened to be attending a work thing in Toronto that week) and my mom, who is a huge mystery fan and challenged me to write my first mystery novel.

Our goals for the evening included:

  1. Take as many photos with professional mystery writers as possible. No shame.
  2. Get my copy of Still Life signed by Louise Penny, who was a nominee for Best Crime Novel. (I made myself have low expectations for this goal: Facebook said my idol had flown to New York on the Monday. Her attendance was unlikely.)
  3. Eat, drink and be merry.

Photos of Heather with Professional Mystery Writers

Here are some of my souvenirs from the evening:

Me, Tim Wynne-Jones and my mama, Virginia Walker. Tim made my mom cry once: she was listening to one of his short stories on CBC Radio while driving, and she had to pull over because she couldn’t see through her tears. He apologized at the event.
Every good party needs a Newfoundlander, and we had two: Helen C. Escott and her son, Daniel. Daniel offered to (finally) screech me in, but we couldn’t find a fish or any screech. Helen’s book Operation Wormwood made the shortlist for Best First Crime Novel. Her upcoming book (Operation Vanished) sounds amazing too.
Linwood Barclay is another of mom’s favourite authors. His book Escape won the Arthur Ellis Award for Best Juvenile / Young Adult Crime Book. It sounds like the perfect book for Isaac’s bookshelf.
The winner of the Best First Crime Novel was A.J. Devlin, a fellow B.C. writer, for his novel Cobra Clutch. He let me touch his arm for good luck.

Sadly, Louise Penny was not in attendance. That bucket list goal of meeting her and saying “thank you for helping me find my genre” remains unchecked for now.

Nonetheless, we did manage to eat, drink and be merry.

What’s Next?

I didn’t win in my category — Liv McFarlane took home the trophy and $500 from Dundurn Press for her book, The Scarlet Cross. But Dundurn Press will consider all five shortlisted manuscripts for publication, and that’s pretty darn exciting. Congratulations to my fellow newbie shortlisted folks: Darrow Woods, Jim Bottomley, Don Macdonald and the incredible Liv McFarlane.

The big lesson I learned from our whirlwind Toronto adventure was that I’m still a baby in this genre. Most of the writers I met have agents, editors and publishers.

I’m super proud that the first draft of my mystery made the shortlist. It will be even better once I finally finish the second draft. If Dundurn doesn’t offer me publication, I’ll have a strong manuscript and resume to lure another publisher.

United We Stand, Divided We Fall

When I started reading Louise Penny’s books, I found my genre. University writing courses had taught me that “literary” writing (not “genre” fiction) was the “best” writing. But my favourite books to read are mysteries, and Louise Penny showed me that “literary mysteries” could succeed.

I’m too sensitive to read gory mysteries or thrillers: I prefer Agatha Christie dramas and Sherlock Holmes puzzles. While some of the books we celebrated at the awards gala aren’t books I’d read, I’m happy for the authors and proud to see mystery writers applauding and celebrating one another.

I want to (continue to) be part of this tribe of crime writers. And someday I want to win an Arthur Ellis trophy: a macabre noosed figure, with a rope on the back that makes the limbs dance when pulled.

the Arthur Ellis trophy

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“Hi Beautiful”

How do we respond? And why does it make my skin crawl?

One day, new to Instagram, I received a private message from a man I didn’t know. It was an innocuous “hello.”

I did the responsible thing and checked out his profile: from the photos he’d posted, he appeared to be an actual human being, and not a spam robot. There were photos of him and his daughter. So I was the polite small-towner, the professional writer with a public social media profile, and said “hello” back.

He responded immediately; I could see those little dots as he typed.

His response and, more importantly, my reaction, left me baffled.

INSTAGRAM GUY: hi beautiful.

MY RESPONSE: [Nothing. I immediately blocked him.]

Let’s watch that again, in slow motion

INSTAGRAM GUY: hi beautiful.

Reaction part 1: Panic. “Duck before he sees me!”

Reaction part 2: Anger, at him and myself. “That sneaker. I let him in, and he’s being creepy.”

Reaction part 3: Disappointment. “I almost made a new friend, but nope.”

I didn’t think rationally about how to respond to him. I just clicked that “block” button and walked away.

Second-guessing myself

Almost immediately, I started second-guessing my choice to block this stranger.

First: maybe I overreacted. Maybe he wasn’t creepy. Maybe he was nice and deserved a polite response. This guy thought “hi beautiful” was a valid thing to say, and maybe it is. Maybe he thought he was complimenting me. Maybe we were in Mars vs. Venus territory here, and men think that’s a great way to break the ice with a woman they don’t know.

Second: was blocking him a responsible decision, given that it was my professional writer profile, and not just a personal profile? Was this how Michelle Obama would respond?

Maybe I should have thanked him politely for his kind words and redirected the conversation. I could get him to sign up for my newsletter, or be a patron. He might become one of my biggest fans.

In two or twenty years, when I’m a famous writer, I will have to deal with more socially awkward men like this. Will I block them all? How will I handle them in real life, at book signings and when they groupie me after I win the Man Booker Prize?

Fact: social media scams come in many forms

I did some Google research and learned that direct messages from strangers, even strangers with photos of their supposed children and/or dogs on their profiles, even strangers all dressed up as corporate executives or brain surgeons, are often red flags for scams. In retrospect, I’m 99% sure that first message was a scammer trawling for a bite.

Despite knowing I did the right thing by blocking him, that message (“hi beautiful”) and my reflex response puzzled me.

Why did this seemingly innocent, technically complimentary phrase trigger my negative reaction?

What’s wrong with “hi beautiful”?

Yes, it’s nice to be complimented. And sometimes I do strive to look “beautiful.” Why else wear mascara?

But on the list of qualities I want to be celebrated for, physical appearance is low.

Why not start a conversation with “hi outdoor adventurer,” or “hi future best-selling writer,” or anything that shows he’s read my writing, heard my story, and values what I value about myself? Why not “hi Heather”?

All “hi beautiful” shows is that the message sender has seen a photo of me: one I chose to post publicly because it was a good angle on a good day. Or not: maybe he says that to all the random women he cold calls on social media, not realizing he’s making our skin crawl.

When a man starts with “hi beautiful,” it’s a red flag that he’s focused on himself. He only sees our physical appearance, because he’s only thinking about his attraction to us.

He is not thinking about the three-dimensional person he’s addressing: the woman who has ideas, feelings, life goals, a story, strengths and weaknesses.

While I think physical attraction is essential for a romantic relationship, I would never want a relationship where he thought my physical appearance was the most important part of me.

What about those long minutes it takes my 40-year-old face to lose the pillow marks in the morning? What about my snotty nose when I’m outside in the winter? I don’t want to try to be attractive for someone all the time.

I love my smile lines and am proud of my wrinkles (aka battle scars).

Online vs. real life

The glorious thing about being objectified in this way through an Instagram message rather than in real life is that we can click that “block” button.

In real life, we don’t get to “block” and move on.

When someone physically objectifies us in real life, how do we respond?

There’s that pressure to be polite, to be nice, to smile and say “thank you for the compliment” or some other ridiculous phrase that puts us in the weird position of being grateful to someone for assessing our physical appearance and approving. As if we’re meat and they’re the health inspector.

Is this reaction to “hi beautiful” an over-reaction?

So far, the women friends I’ve spoken with have validated my response: yes, block that guy. One said “hi beautiful” is “grabby”. It’s invasive and aggressive.

One said this stranger (if he wasn’t a scammer) was in the wrong because he “didn’t follow the rules of engagement.” Maybe “hi beautiful” would be appropriate on Tinder or in a dating context, but not on Instagram to a person who doesn’t post sexually inviting photographs.

I wonder what a man would say about “hi beautiful” as a conversation starter, and about my reaction. Is this a Mars vs. Venus thing? Is it a generational thing, or an urban vs. rural thing?

Does it even matter what the guys think, if the women say it’s bad?

In the years I’ve now been on Instagram, I’ve received many more “hi beautiful” direct messages. Presumably this kind of trawling works, if the scammers continue to use this particular bait.

Therefore, some women must continue those online conversations. That means either some women like the “hi beautiful” approach, or their polite response to the line allows the scam to play out.

Do some women like “hi beautiful” as a first line?

What do you think?

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