#mostly trying to be objective there but indeed poor Frederick

[cornus27florida]

x"D IDK what's this anymore : Episode 147th The BBQ (Barbeque) part 1

-> no Patreon leak image for the change, I forgor where and I feel it will be nice to have Curtis in appron (actually not the first time, we seen once before when Nell warning him about Gwen going to the barn with were-spider Prez inside) - as the first image of the post. Also I want do simple for the change

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Curtis looked nice with an apron there, but Syrah - he definitely won’t wear that apron `kiss the cook` you prepared ahahahah. Also foods in Whitney’s slumber party really banging it, if only I didn’t need to watch my calories intake (and diseases histories in my family lineage) - I’ll inhaled those perfectly cooked meat steaks, burger patties, french friends, cheeses and more! Also bag of chips sounds nice as well for warm welcome and nice barbeque >w<

Laverne really clings to Whitney ahahaha, very fluffy Llama kinda like a very warm and thick blanket that wrapped Whitney from his head to mid body with a very tight nuzzle there -> like many confused where Laverne's appendages where as it seems seeped inside to Whitney hahaha

Also nice to see NelLie again! and poor Renee, your best friend currently going to Pastel palace with likely headaches due to reading some diary in a rushing carriage without blinking there! -> Renee’s note kinda cute there:

Bernadette and the OP background character congratulating Prez’ that she didn’t turns to be were-spider this month, but Prez looks unhealthy (few waves of intense cramping and splitting headaches every minute of every day) - I really hope that she won’t be turned to be were-spider anytime, because that cursed transformation makes her uncontrollable unlike Monika when turned to be crow. Later on Prez looks healthy enough when giving a demonstration though.. so I think she kinda OK, and even if worse will happen (feels like want to enters period, I think the answer is for her taking the delaying period pills again -> the side effects could be much worse, but the most important thing is Prez could keep her mind and avoids to do things that uncontrollable for her (like, I know some wished for Leland to be killed by Prez in cursed form or something, but that’s not the answer as making Prez a murderer (even though we know how evil Leland is) will affecting her really greatly in bad ways).

Now Frederick’s time! Poor the tiniest prince with the tiniest voice and his worst enemy: terrifying skill of communication - and I try to react his interactions with CPC members in parts ; with the trio (Abbi, Syrah, Monika), Saffron, and Prez.

A) With the trio Abbi, Syrah, Monika: Frederick hesitated because he thinks he’ll ruin the good mood of them during the slumber party, but turns out they are also missing and wondering about Gwen’s too that hasn’t shown up since ‘the romantic, end-of-the-night rendezvous. Syrah’s comment ``We get it, you two lovebirds are probably making out every day and we’re not gonna pry`` makes me giddy in chuckles. But IG the misunderstanding with the trio due to Frederick’s reply in tomato face, ``I haven’t seen her at all! I’ve been locked in a dungeon by my dad ever since the gala!`` → made the trio think the reason that Frederick locked up is due to being grounded because something too intimate makes Frederick and Gwendolyn need to be separated.. <Hence the blushing face of the trio espc from Monika there> 

Oh boi, if only that’s the case but the locked up is literal punishment by Leland to Frederick’s “failures” and to make sure he won’t mess things up again - This my attempt to find excuse of the somewhat seeming OOC-ness of the trio to not thinking that Frederick being locked up seriously, they simply misunderstanding things espc after Frederick outburst with red face telling that he never seen Gwen since the gala due to being locked up by his dad

B) With Saffron -> thanks a lot for being supportive, bro!

Sorry I have nothing much to say because it's distracted to Saffron's heart-shaped 'tattoo' - RIP Saffron's first date ;-;

C) With Prez -> sadly Prez still not grabbing the situation, but one thing I love is we finally have more deeper interactions between her and Frederick (like, I am counting the days when Frederick realizes from Prez retelling that Gwen shackled her own self-worth's opinion to him and his love - similar to what Lilyth does to Jackie) - she even saying things that total opposite of what Frederick used to hear (small, weak boy).

Well at least Frederick won't be throw up vomiting due to being 'flipped over by princesses' because he likely been days starved by Leland at the prison *smiling sadly in anguish*

=========================================== Theory's ramble portion - is about Frederick to his brothers

Frederick trying to explain that he ruined everything with Gwen (as he thinks he's the sole reason of all of her pains and sadness, when we know things actually more complex than that : blaming solely Frederick isn’t the answer) and there’s fights between Pastel princesses and Plaid princes - that he thinks because the awful thing that he did when first meeting Gwen (calling her ugly), but CPC already knew it - so it’s the reason why he got attacked when first meeting CPC

The trio still thinking Frederick misunderstanding things, but one thing is clear: he finally connected the dots of the reason Gwendolyn is the part of the CPC (ran down after crying heard that she’s called ugly - into the forest and stumbled upon CPC ‘really kind people that helped her in a lot of ways’ + Gwen confronted about it to him once already, but due to their poor communication skill - Gwen cutting the confrontation speeches while Freddie thinks she confronted him due to pulling off to cliff not the awful comment) and why CPC is so hostile towards him the first time they’re meet -> Agreed with comment that Freddie isn’t playing dumb during CPC intruder arc), he’s just truly dumb there (but to be fair on idiocy level, he’s smarter than Jackie because he realized what’s wrong about their love interest much quicker and also more aware of things around) TvT

 Poor Frederick sprawled in the ground part 1

When Abbi reassure Freddie to chills out and forget everythings the night (even handed a bag of chips, that later on be comedic aspect as breathing bag for Freddie who got panic attack later on), Frederick stands up instantly and exclaimed there’s no time to chill - as Leland, Blaine, and Lance are on their way to Pastel palace to do something to the Pastel Princesses. He doesn’t know because purposely not getting in the plan, but I hope the conversations in the prison could helps Frederick to connecting dots which are; Leland want Frederick to stay back so his plan won’t be ruined anymore [but here we are with Frederick out there, the catalyst of Leland’s plan breakage], coming to the Pastel kingdom tonight is considered ‘an errand’ but there’s troop involved, everything that Plaid kingdom do is for power - the all-knowing power/the Omniscient Clam, the big event is tomorrow at Corduroy canyon and Frederick will be included.

The engagements were fake (told by Leland actually, and we know Blaine and Lance doesn’t give definite answer to how they actually feeling for the Princesses) -an act `of affections for few princesses`, their relationships for Leland is just some scheme for Plaid kingdom’s power grab → actually we know it’s more petty obsession to wrecking Jack 

his brother told him themself, for the power grab by Leland

That’s one thing that Frederick (and us readers as well) could misunderstand, does Blaine and Lance really couldn’t care less about an alliance between the Pastel and the Plaid kingdom - or about Frederick? As at the Gala, CPC teamed up with Blaine and Lance to stop the bullies to harassing him.. but there’s concern which could make it or break it the piece of trust that Frederick to his brothers, which as the followings that Syrah said;

`Frederick's a part of the Plaid kingdom, and we'll rip the limbs off of anyone who interferes with the Plaid kingdom`

Because that statement will strengthen Frederick’s trust _if_ Blaine and Lance considers him as their precious little brother Poor, but will breaking the trust in dust _if_ Frederick spat out to not being part of Plaid’s kingdom anymore <which I feel the latter is likely that will happen due to me tend to be pessimistic, and Blaine that likely spat out that while Lance keep silent again/could he finally stands up for his lil’ bro?

-> Learning that CPC+Blaine+Lance might kill the bullies, Frederick fell to panic attack again and wondering if the bullies even still alive (imho doesn’t matter, as long the bullies out of the sight and never appears again)

Frederick sprawled in the ground part 2

===========================================I also want to talk about 2 biggest cockblocker in CPC history told in this episode: Saffron's cursed hand (fanon named: Thaddeus) & Curtis (for WhitnErnia ship) - haha poor them

Welp well like what Whitney's feeling, I feel now enough. ADIOS

I am leaving but if anyone want to interact anything be it comment - reblog - or anything, I am still there ><

[ineffably-good]

Changes (1/3)

Read it on AO3

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale decide they better let their pet snake, Frederick, see them in their true forms before he finds out by surprise.

___

“Did you know,” Crowley said one day, looking up from his phone as they sprawled on the couch with their legs entwined, “that king snakes are named that because they tend to kill and eat other snakes?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book and wrinkled his nose. “Well that’s unsettling,” he said.

“Also they have the strongest constrictor strength of any snake.” Crowley read from his screen. “Really? Huh. That’s how they do it – they squeeze so hard they can stop the heart of something much bigger than them. Here, look at this video of a king snake just up and eating a snake twice its size.”

He held the screen out so the angel could see it, but Aziraphale frowned in distaste and pushed it away, not liking to think about his friendly little pet that way.

“Why exactly are you sharing this information?” he asked, confused.

Crowley looked thoughtful. “It’s just – I was wondering what would happen if Frederick saw me in my snake form.”

Aziraphale peered at him over the top of his glasses. “Well, he’d hardly be able to eat you.”

“No, I know that. I just wonder if he’d be frightened or if it would be okay.” He thought for a minute. “We should probably introduce him to that side of me at some point, so we don’t scare him half to death if he ever comes across me, you know?”

Aziraphale put his book down. “You might have a point. He’s bound to find you sometime in snake form, with winter coming up and the shop getting colder.” Crowley was inclined to spend more time in snake form in the winter, as it was just easier to conserve body heat when he could curl up in a tight ball near a heat source. He also tended to revert to snake form whenever he was especially confounded, cross, overly tired, or being asked to share his feelings at moments when he didn’t want to. Aziraphale found these reactions, in sequence, endearing, irritating, adorable, and infuriating.

“He hasn’t seen either of us with wings, either,” Crowley pointed out, interrupting the angel’s line of thought. “Could be in for a series of surprises, our young Frederick.”

“All right, I’ll think it over,” Aziraphale said. “We need to proceed carefully but you’re probably right that we need to do something about this soon.”

Read it on AO3 or click below!

Aziraphale began trying to lay the ground work with Frederick. He presented him with a carefully-pulled feather from one of his wings, one day. The snake flickered his tongue and scented it with some interest for a moment, then tried to eat it. He swallowed it down, laid still for a moment, and then vomited it back up with a sound that sound like *hrgk*.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR THAT, Frederick thought grumpily at Aziraphale. The snake glared balefully at him for a moment, then tunneled under his bedding material.

“That could have gone better,” Aziraphale muttered.

They tried again later with one of Crowley’s feathers, a black secondary one he'd saved from a molt. Frederick, now suspicious of feather-shaped objects, scented it from further away and then crawled into his cardboard tube, watching it suspiciously. He’d learned that these things had a mind of their own, even if they smelled comfortingly of his two large pets.

“He’s not getting the idea,” Crowley said. “We’re just going to have to show him.”

++

The next time, they pulled out the glass vivarium and placed it, with Frederick tucked securely inside, on the middle of the office desk.

Crowley sat at the desk chair next to him and tapped the glass a little to get Frederick’s attention. “Are you ready? You need to watch now,” he said quietly, laying one hand in front of the glass case in a manner he hoped was comforting. “Watch Aziraphale.”

WHAT NOW? Frederick moaned, irritated at yet another interruption to his nap schedule.

He unwillingly lifted his head and pinned both the pointy and the fluffy creature with his disapproving gaze, then prepared to go back to sleep. He had almost succeeded in resettling when suddenly, he picked up on a strange shift in the air of the room, almost like an electric current, and the background of the room behind his large, fluffy friend shimmered briefly as Aziraphale concentrated on manifesting his wings into the physical plane.

With a sudden pop, there they were. Glorious, huge, alabaster wings, held carefully behind him in a nonthreatening stance. Aziraphale watched as Frederick, who was most definitely paying attention now, uncoiled slowly and moved as far away to the other side of the glass container as he could.

“Frederick,” Aziraphale said, moving slowly to come kneel before the container. “It’s still me. I’m an angel, that’s all. Not a bird of prey.”

Frederick hissed quietly and looked unconvinced. What in the blazes is an angel, he thought to himself. His limited experience of the world had contained no mention of this concept.

“Let’s try just hanging about for a bit with your wings out,” Crowley said. “Maybe he’ll get used to it and you can take him out for a closer look.”

Frederick watched the two of them walk into the kitchen area to make tea, and he pondered. He’d always known there was something strange about these two – there had always been a hint of feathers in both of their scent profiles, and he’d never been quite sure why. So, his lovely, kind owner was actually a gigantic bird? Or part bird? Either way, if there was one thing a snake of his size knew it was that he was no match for an avian of that size, and he was not at all sure that he liked this development.

In Frederick’s world, there were two truths: large snakes ate small birds, and large birds ate small snakes. End of story. Period. Finito. And yet, he couldn’t find it quite in himself to be afraid of his owner. He’d always been so kind.  

The dark one came back a while later and reached in to pull him out of his container. Frederick hissed dramatically and made his displeasure known, but ultimately allowed it. He took him over to the table where Aziraphale was sitting and, holding the snake carefully, let him take a good look at the wings and scent them to his heart's content.

Aziraphale concentrated on radiating as much love and peace as he could at the little creature, and soon enough the snake uncoiled a little and accepted a few pets from his owner.

HEY YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON’T LIKE IT. Frederick thought at them both, but as it didn’t seem like Aziraphale was inclined to eat him, he supposed he could get used to it.

He was, they all noted, much happier when Aziraphale put his wings away.

“Better not let him see you in your true form any time soon,” Crowley murmured that night. “Four wings and all those eyes? You’ll give the poor little guy nightmares.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale agreed. “That can probably be avoided, for the most part.”

++

Frederick the snake was having a very nice autumn, thank you very much. Things had been very calm for the last few months since he’d pulled his disappearing act and startled the two supposed grownups into slightly better behavior, and to their credit they’d been much less prone to idiocy lately. Frederick had watched approvingly from his perch nearby as they exchanged rings and acted ridiculously sappy about the whole thing. He didn't understand what the fuss about a couple lumps of metal was all about, but in general he thought anything that made the two of them less likely to bicker was worth encouraging. And when they were feeling sappy, they tended to extend that pleasantness to Frederick through a surfeit of treats and long naps in the sun.

All in all, it had worked out rather well.

After Aziraphale’s reveal, Frederick noted that his fuzzy owner was taking care to spend a bit more time with him, which was nice. Aziraphale had always been the warmest body in the house, and although he loved his heating pad, nothing really beat curling up with the fuzzy one for keeping a snake loose and happy. He basked in the attention and tried not to think any further about his pet’s dual nature. Some things were best ignored.

It was, he thought, the most sensible approach.

++

A few days later, they decided it was Crowley’s turn to reveal his wings. Aziraphale sat on the couch with Frederick curled up in his lap, stroking the snake gently while he mostly napped. “Frederick, wake up pay attention now,” Aziraphale said, booping him gently on the nose to wake him up. "Crowley needs to show you something."

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHAT DO YOU TWO WANT THIS TIME? Frederick thought at them. Frederick had for several months now been listening closely to the pointy one and was picking up on quite a wide variety of curse words, which he practiced assiduously at night while his companions slept. He was rather proud of how well he was doing with them.

Crowley got a strange look on his face for just a second. "Did you hear something?" he asked Aziraphale.

"No," the angel said, looking at him levelly. "You all right, there?"

Crowley nodded his assent and got back to the task at hand. He frowned in concentration, while the angel made sure Frederick was watching.

There was a whoomp sound of displaced air and, suddenly, the pointy one was unfolding large, black wings behind him.

HE’S A CROW??? Frederick shrieked. OH THAT EXPLAINS *SO* MANY THINGS.

Crows, he thought with the inborn knowledge of all snake-kind, were nothing any intelligent snake tried to eat. They were smart and ruthless fighters, loyal in a way that caused their loved ones to band together to help them if they were under attack, and lived to cause trouble. They cackled with their own twisted sense of humor that no one else could really understand, and they were messy and annoying.  

That seemed about right, he thought, for what he knew of the pointy one.

Also, luckily, they tended not to hunt snakes.

Frederick eyed Crowley with a sense of grudging respect, and nodded his head a little in acceptance. Better a crow, who, yes, was crazy but was predictable crazy, then a big giant seagull. No one could tell what a seagull might do next.

FINE, he thought at them both, beyond annoyed. I CAN DEAL WITH THIS. REALLY GLAD THIS IS ALL OUT IN THE OPEN. CAN WE STOP WITH THE BIG REVEALS NOW? ANYONE WANT TO TURN INTO A FREAKING LAMPSHADE OR ANYTHING?

“He’s doing good, I think,” Crowley said. “Let’s show him the rest.”

“Okay, Frederick,” Aziraphale said, “there’s more. Crowley can change into something else, too.”

Frederick sighed dramatically, but looked up, interested in spite of himself. He watched, transfixed, as the big, feathered, Crowley-adjacent thing in front of him slowly morphed and dropped to the floor and became the absolutely biggest  snake he had ever seen in his life.

Frederick’s entire brain short circuited and he did what any sensible snake would do faced with such an enormous threat – he went limp and played dead.

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Case Of The Glamorous Ghost by Erle Stanley Gardner: An Analysis

Not so much a book review as a look at the pantser vs. plotter schools of writing.  

Most writers would give their eyeteeth to create a character as iconic and memorable as Perry Mason.  Nobody ever accused Erle Stanley Gardner of being a great littérateur but dang, the lad could write entertaining popular fiction and did he ever write a lot of it!

Skipping over Gardner’s own fascinating personal history, he’s known as one of the legendary “million words a year” writers of the pulp era (Walter B. Gibson a.k.a. Maxwell “The Shadow” Grant, Frederick Schiller Faust a.k.a. Max Brand, and Lester Dent a.k.a. Kenneth “Doc Savage” Robeson being other stalwarts in that class), cranking out a staggering four thousand words a day for most of his productive career.

He wrote, out of sheer necessity, as a pantser (i.e., one who writes by the seat of their pants, changing story and characters as it unfolds before them); there simply wasn’t enough time for intricate plotting or in-depth characterization.

Striking gold with Perry Mason, Gardner quickly left the pulps and focused almost entirely on books averaging three Perry Mason novels plus other mysteries and non-fiction books each year.  

The coronavirus lockdown gives me ample opportunity to catch up of my reading, and since a 1979 omnibus of Perry Mason novels sat unread on my shelf far too long, I’m using that for bedtime reading.

They are the ideal type of stories to end the day with: Fast paced, melodramatic enough so the reader doesn’t need to invest heavily in plot or characters, featuring beloved series characters whom we enjoy seeing in action (of course, Raymond Burr, Barbara Hale as Della Street, and William Hopper as Paul Drake put their marks on those characters so thoroughly it’s now almost impossible to envision them any differently).

The Case Of The Glamourous Ghost is a 1955 book that Gardner wrote with one eye on possible serialization in The Saturday Evening Post (it wasn’t; that year’s SatEvPost serial was The Case Of The Sunbather’s Diary).

It bears all the earmarks of that particular market: A puzzling and salacious hook (but not too salacious for white bread America), a batch of red herrings and possible suspects, a seemingly doomed defendant who can’t keep their story straight or tell the truth, and in the last chapter Perry kicks Hamilton Burger’s ass around the block during cross examination.

(Sidebar:  When I re-watched the old Perry Mason TV series a few months back, I realized I’d forgotten how sneaky, underhanded, and duplicitous Perry could be when it came to defending a client.  The later books, written with SatEvPost in mind as a possible market, show him acting even more duplicitously than that, and that version of Perry is toned down from the original early novels.  No wonder Burger and the cops hated him.)

But to quote what John Ormsby wrote about the original English translation of Don Quixote:  “It has all the freshness and vigour, but also a full measure of the faults, of a hasty production.”

Gardner never broke his penny-a-word pulps writing habits, and extensively padded the first third of The Case Of The Glamour Ghost.  Perry will tell Della to call Paul, Della will say she’ll call Paul, Della actually calls Paul and tells him Perry wants to speak to him, Della will then tell Perry that Paul is on the line, and finally Perry will actually talk to him. 

Gardner himself explained why: "At three cents a word, every time I say 'Bang' in the story I get three cents. If you think I'm going to finish the gun battle while my hero still has fifteen cents worth of unexploded ammunition in his gun, you're nuts."  

The ”glamourous ghost” in question is Perry’s soon-to-be client, a young woman arrested by the police wearing nothing but a torn negligée and a raincoat.  Gardner actually stages this “off camera” in the form of a tongue-in-cheek newspaper article, thus allowing the reader to fill in as many details as they wish…or are comfortable with.  

Not a bad approach for scenes like this, but one that can (and in this case, does) prove problematic further along.

The glamourous ghost claims amnesia, and in a few short paragraphs her half-sister shows up to hire Perry.

Seems their dad is a well respected jeweler and the ghost is a bit of a free spirit as they would say back in the day, and the lady in Perry’s office thinks her younger semi-sibling might be in some kind of trouble and if she is the scandal would traumatize dear old dad…

Okay, you don’t need to be a die hard mystery fan to recognize this set-up comes straight out of Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, and sure enough, only a few pages more and we’ve got a corpse on our hands, the amnesiac’s purported new husband.

Well, if you’re gonna steal, steal from the best, right?

Here’s where pantsing becomes problematic: Chandler wrote his novel by mashing up  previously published short stories (primarily “Killer In The Rain” and “The Curtain” but bits and pieces of a few others as well), combining and recasting characters, and creating Philip Marlowe as his new iconic private eye narrator.  

Cannibalizing previous material gave Chandler a leg up on plotting and characterization, and he did smooth over a lot of loose ends to produce a mostly coherent novel.

Infamously, however, he left the murder of a minor character unexplained, and when Leigh Brackett and William Faulkner adapted The Big Sleep for the screen in 1946, finding themselves stymied by this crime they simply picked up the phone, called Chandler, and asked who killed the chauffeur.

There came a long pause on the other end of the line followed by:  “…damn…”

Gardner, savvy enough not to follow Chandler’s footsteps too closely, spins his story in a different direction, but not before following them far enough to keep the murdered supposed husband permanently off stage, never seen in the flesh but described by people who knew or interacted with him.

That worked for Chandler because all Marlowe need do is figure out who dunnit, he’s not obliged to act on that information.

Perry can’t do that, not without losing his law license and being charged as an accessory after the fact.

So Gardner starts spitballin’ ideas and comes up with an explanation that, while not the least bit plausible, will serve for a fast paced Perry Mason novel.

The middle third of the novel presents various red herrings in the form of clues and characters, and proves the most entertaining portion because Perry actually does talk about the legal limits a lawyer faces, and how to circumvent them in true lawyerly fashion.  Here’s where the bulk of the actual detectin’ goes on, and dear old dad and older half-sister pop up a few times.

At some point, Gardner realizes big sis’ motivation makes absolutely no sense.

If her stated objective is to protect dear old dad by sweeping things under the rug, she makes a piss poor job of it by hiring the most famous lawyer in town and turning it into a media circus.

So Gardner shows Perry already thought of that angle, and assumes big sis’ really wants to case to blow wide open publicly, and it does, and…and…

…and Gardner just forgets about it.

Indeed, by the last third of the story big sis and dear old dad virtually disappear from the narrative, popping up among the spectators in court and that’s it.

There’s a host of other characters who flow in and out of the story, far too many of them too similar in appearance and function.

That’s partially due to one character’s motives as they target a certain kind of person in the story, hence so many of that type appearing.

It’s also a function of not adequately revising a story once written, not necessarily drastically rewriting it, but making sure every character is distinctive, every action is clear.

One certainly can’t blame Gardner for writing fast. His 1935 pulp era income would be well over $375,000 today, and at the time of his death he held the best selling career total for an American writer (some upstart named Stephen King has since overtaken him).

But it does demonstrate both the bane and boon of the pantsing method.

As a staff writer, many a time I would pitch a detailed outline to a studio, get the okay to proceed, then during the actual writing discover characters and scenes originally envisioned didn’t work as well as planned, that new ideas and opportunities presented themselves as the story unfolded.

As a story editor, I needed to separate the wheat from the chaff, to see when a writer could go off in a new direction, and when they needed guidance back to the original workable premise.

Gardner then, like King today, proved just too successful for anyone to corral, and as a result individual works suffer at the expense of career success.

The last third of the book proves the densest in terms of writing and plot.  It’s only two chapters long but they’re both several times longer than any of the earlier chapters.

They represent two days of courtroom testimony with a little detectin’ going on in between.

Gardner finally gets around to explaining -- or rather, trying to explain -- why Perry’s client went prancing around virtually naked on the night in question and holy %#@& does it not make a lick of sense.  It’s not just an example of idiot plotting, it’s perverse idiot plotting, behaving in a manner that only guarantees to make things worse for you.

Seriously, one phone call to the police followed by “I want a lawyer” and this story would be wrapped up in twenty pages.

Twelve if that lawyer is Perry Mason.

There are clever bits (no spoilers, but the resolution hinges on two seemingly identical things not being identical at all, and Gardner drops that clue expertly so no complaints there) but there are also flaws.

A Perry Mason story is the kind of mystery where the culprit needs to be someone with an active involvement in his client’s life, there needs to be a direct motive to frame or involve the client.

It’s not like Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle’s “The Red-Headed League” in which the client himself is a red herring and the true mystery lays elsewhere, or a police procedural like Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct stories where it’s just a matter of relentlessly following each thread until one of them leads somewhere.

Of course, the real appeal of a Perry Mason novel lays not in solving the mystery but rather watching Perry and Della and Paul do the solving.  If the actual mystery and solution proves farfetched (and The Case Of The Glamourous Ghost stands arguably among the most farfetched of the series), it’s at least entertaining and a pleasant afternoon or evening filler.

But it does demonstrate for serious writers, there needs to be a happy medium where pantsing and plotting co-exist.

In my short stories and fictoids I’m typically a pantser.  I know where I’m starting from, I know where I’d like to wind up, and I set off.

Should I discover a more interesting route or destination along the way, I’m fully capable of going there.

But longer forms require more deliberate aforethought.

Not necessarily plotting out each and every beat (that can squeeze the life and soul out of a story) but enough structure to provide for growth.

To mix in a gardening metaphor, it’s like raising a tomato plant.

Left to themselves most will grow out wildly in all directions and fail to produce a useable crop.

Give them a framework to climb up, watch them carefully, encourage the best tendrils to flourish and trim them as needed (i.e., “kill your darlings”), and you wind up with a big, bountiful crop.

Gardner never tried for high literature and that’s okay; every chef needn’t specialize in fillet mignon. 

He certainly cranked out enough Big Macs to make himself -- and more importantly, his readers -- happy.

Decide what you want to dish out…

…and plan accordingly.

  © Buzz Dixon