Time for My Trial By Fire

Vase with flowers, Santa Fe

For many years, I've been saying I was going to write a book. In fact, I started gathering deep background as early as 2009. However, in the spirit of someone I quoted earlier, who advised me "don't quit your day job," I've dawdled, marketed other work, created two books that were definitely NOT mine, and acted as publisher for them.

Now, an advisor tells me, "you're always complaining that you're undervalued in the workplace, that people aren't fair to you. Maybe it's time for you to be fair to yourself." This individual, while he has done many other things, supports himself as an artist. I took his comment to heart and I've spent some time recently doing additional research to flesh out my book. However, prior to that, I'd agreed to help a friend with a project that is important to her. I was feeling uncomfortable about it, but I realized that in order to do what my advisor had challenged me to do, I would have to back out of my friend's project. I sent her a quick email before leaving town for a week, promising to explain when I returned.

Then, I went to Albuquerque to do some research. The research took only a fraction of the time I spent up north. The rest of it I spent visiting friends I hadn't seen for years and spilling my guts about  my book. I guess I'm thinking if I talk about it, that will help to make it real. I certainly hope so. Now, if I don't do it, I will have shamed myself in front of my friends! (But I do believe talking about it helps make it real. I just have to keep telling myself I'm a writer and act accordingly.)

My advisor told me to begin by writing for two hours a day. I didn't time myself today, so I can't prove that I didn't meet my goal. However, it's a start. Blogging had better count (and who's to say that I am not the one who should decide that?) This is where I get to share the frustrations I encounter along the way, the fresh hell of "auto-correct," and test ideas I want to include in the book. Which leads to my next blog post: using one's writing as a way to promote social change. Look out, guys, you could be the next target.

(c) Beth Morgan 3/3/15 

Not So Happy, Happy, Happy

Back in November, I was doing the Snoopy dance. Now, I'm struggling through one of those periods in which I am feeling frustrated, troubled, and depressed. I think the Vado book is doomed. I have just written the publisher to that effect, and I'm awaiting word from their representative. I am going to see what happens when one must wiggle out of a contract.

This is unfortunate, in my opinion. The primary founding family in Vado seems to think there is all kinds of material about them already out there. There may be some, but it is not very accessible. While I have found several articles (one in New Mexico Magazine and several in regional newspapers), I've found no photographs, except in materials about Blackdom (where some of the Vado families came from). I've been told there were books written by the Boyer family that are publicly available, but I have not been able to find them. One of the family members had a fire and her photos were destroyed. The local newspaper also had a fire, and thus
has few photos from previous years in its morgue.

Gathering together what is left into a book, I thought, would be welcomed by the community. However, I am a stranger, and perhaps the family has been approached so many times they are weary of scholars. Like Floyd Westerman says, "Here come the anthros, better hide your past away; here come the anthros, on another holiday."

They say that when one door closes, another opens. We'll see what happens next. Will it be a maiden on the railroad tracks, Simon Legree pounding on the door, a jail cell or lawsuit for our heroine? Or maybe I'll get to work on MY MYSTERY NOVEL . . .

 

The Lost Time Crime

You may be wondering how come I haven't written much in the Murders in the Mesilla Valley blog lately. That's an easy one. I got distracted by LIFE.

In addition to having put everything else aside to work on getting a client's family history book ready for the printer, I went to France and then made a quick trip to South Dakota. The client's book has been at the printer's since before I went to France, first and second proofs have been received and corrected, and I expect the printed book will be shipping any day now. (That book is In The Shadow of El Capitan. It may eventually be available as a digital download. Please check back if you are interested.)

Additionally, the next project is looming on the horizon. What writers often tell each other, as Alamogordo Daily News reporter Jessica Palmer told me this week, is "don't quit your day job." Not a generator of great wealth either, my day job, but, oh well.

However, I'd like to take this opportunity to invite anyone with vintage photographs from the Vado, Del Cerro, Berino, and Mesquite, NM, areas to share them for a hometown book I've undertaken for Arcadia Publishing. It's to be a photographic history of the area, which I think would be a useful item to have on hand, since there doesn't seem to be much published. There are some mentions of Vado on the internet (some with photos from a northern New Mexico Vado, not our southern one) accompanying them. I've run across some articles that mention Vado in my preliminary research, but not many. And there's still much to do to gather info on the other communities, as well.

Thus, I am throwing myself upon the mercy of these towns' founding families. Here's your chance to see that your family takes its place in history. You can make that happen by contacting me and sharing your photographs. You can do that at standsred@gmail.com, or by calling me at 575-233-4072.

Criminal Mind

Bundy: A Psychopath's Psychopath

Theodore Robert Bundy, 1979

What would you do if one of your closest friends turned out to be a serial killer? One woman managed to remain on friendly terms with such a man and later, to write his story with deep understanding. Ann Rule, a former policewoman, met Ted Bundy when they were both volunteers at a crisis center in Washington state. Rule's motivation for volunteering at the center was probably an outgrowth of her own brother's death by suicide. She found Bundy as a young man warm, charming, empathetic.

At the suggestion of a psychologist friend, I have been reading some of Rule's books. To write about crime, understanding the criminal mind seems important. I can't say that I have a grip on it at this point in time, but I'm learning. I was disappointed that at almost the end of The Stranger Beside Me, few assessments of Bundy's psychological profile had been put forward, except to note that he exhibited "antisocial" behavior.

Bundy confessed to having killed at least thirty women between 1974 and '78, but he may have killed up to one hundred. He seemed to be able to compartmentalize his life so that, once the deed was done, to all outward appearances he carried on a normal life. For many years, he had a live-in girlfriend who had a young daughter. He was able to conceal his activities from his girlfriend for most of the time they were together, and indeed, he managed not to get caught for a very long time. When he was caught, it was at a time when he had begun to unravel.

The entire duration of his killing career is not known, although it is thought he might be responsible for the death of an 8 year-old girl as early as 1961. (He would have been 14 or 15 then.)  Once started, he  he left a swath of attractive young women dead, from Washington state, through Utah, Colorado, and finally Florida. He murdered two of his last unsuspecting victims in their sleep in a sorority house in Talahassee, Florida, in 1978. The same night, he bludgeoned another young woman. His final victim was a 12-year-old girl in Lake City, Fla., about halfway between Tallahassee and Jacksonville. Often, but not always, the women, who nearly all had long hair parted in the middle, had been raped and bludgeoned to death with a crowbar, a board, a log, or some similar instrument. Sometimes, he strangled them as well, and the last was thought to have been stabbed. Some were dismembered and their heads disposed of separately from their bodies.

A thread running through the book is Rule's belief that Bundy killed these women because they reminded him of a woman whom he had loved, but whom he felt was out of his league and who eventually left him. That humiliated him deeply; his ego wouldn't let him accept it. In an interview shortly before he was executed, he told a psychiatrist that he felt pornography was responsible for pushing him over the edge from voyeur to killer, that his sexual fantasies had progressed to a point where observing did nothing for him anymore.

Watching that interview, I couldn't help feeling that Bundy was playing the psychatrist. I believe Ann Rule had it right when she (finally) pegged him as a psychopath—that is, an individual who is not only incapable of feeling empathy for another human being, but one who feels no remorse, no guilt. Shortly before his trial, he contacted Ann, who had been his friend for so many years, and asked her to intervene. She was not allowed to do that, but stated that she "knew what he wanted, although he had not said it outright. He wanted to come home . . . to confess it all . . . to be confined in a mental hospital . . . "

"The antisocial personality is mentally ill, but not in the classic sense or within our legal framework," Rule wrote. "He is invariably highly intelligent and has . . . learned the proper responses, the tricks and techniques that will please those from whom he wants something. He is subtle, calculating, clever, and dangerous." Rule also quoted Dr. Herve Cleckly, a specialist in the antisocial personality, who interviewed Bundy before his Miami trial: "The observer is confronted with a convincing mask of sanity. We are dealing not with a complete man at all, but with something that suggests a subtly constructed reflex machine which can mimic the human personality perfectly."

Theodore Robert Bundy, Utah, 1975, shortly
 after his arrest for possession of burglary tools.

A friend of mine stated recently that the majority of those who kill are not the Ted Bundys, the psychopaths, the sociopaths (something I will be looking at as I research my book). However, having known a sociopath—and having anguished over the direction his life was taking—I do wonder if there is any help for such folks. It seems like a "Catch 22," an unsolvable dilemma. Some of what I have read recently suggests that, yes, a psychopath can be helped through intensive therapy, which may indeed provide coping mechanisms. But I've yet to see that therapy can insert the missing piece into a brain so cold, that lacks the capacity to empathize or to feel remorse. On the one hand, we cannot blame them, as they did not choose their brain's dysfunction. On the other, many of them cannot be trusted to walk freely among us: Ted Bundy showed us that very clearly. He lured some of his victims into his car by convincing them that he was injured and needed help, even wearing a fake cast on his arm or leg, using crutches, dropping things. The functioning of their normal brains—which caused them to feel sorry for another human being—led to their deaths.

However, I am left with the question of whether the tendency toward psycopathy is genetic or acquired. I tend to think it is both. And also, if not all killers are psychopaths, what is their psychological makeup? If you have any thoughts regarding psychopathic killers or treatments for psycopaths, I'd love to hear from you.

© Beth Morgan, January 2014

Note: photographs of Bundy are in the public domain.

Happy, happy happy!

I feel like Snoopy when he's doing his happy dance! Today, I received word that I just got my first book contract ever (from a book publisher other than my own company)!  It will be a photographic history of Vado, NM, and—a wonderful opportunity for me to gather background information for MY MYSTERY NOVEL! (Since it is to be set in the Mesilla Valley, hence the name of my blog, Mesilla Valley Murders.)

Soooooooooooo . . . if you lived in Del Cerro, Berino, La Mesa, or Vado, I'm interested in scanning your family's historic photos (that means from the earliest photos you have—from the late 1800s, forward). While we will primarily focus on Vado, all of these little unincorporated villages, called colonias locally, are pretty intertwined. The resulting book should be a valuable asset to the community and to scholars who are researching Vado and the Mesilla Valley.

Finding out something about the area in which one lives is always fascinating to me. There is much to be discovered, things that, once documented, should help Vado and other small communities in the area take their place in history. Do you know someone whose family is from one of these communities? Comment here or see me on Facebook. I will look forward to hearing from you!

Got Susto? Call a Curandera

What would you do if you had just experienced susto (magical fright or shock)?  How about mal de ojo (evil eye)?

Eggs, mint, and lemongrass, some of the items
that might be used by a curandera. Beth Morgan photo.

If you were among the Mexican-American population in the U.S. or Mexico who believe in curanderismo, you’d probably seek out a curandera or curandero, for a limpia (cleansing) or other ceremony to counteract the experience.

The ceremonies that I have heard of personally usually involve using an egg, which is passed over a person’s body—sometimes focusing only on a certain part—for cleansing. Usually, the egg is checked sometime later to see whether it is black, cooked, partly cooked, or unchanged.  Often, the egg is disposed of in a ritual manner.

“The use of the egg is quite common in curanderismo,” says Eliseo Torres, in his book Healing Herbs and Rituals: A Mexican Tradition. He explains that others who have gone before him suggest that the egg is an appropriate choice because, although it is used as a food, it also qualifies as a “sacrificial object,” being an animal cell.

Torres, a native of the Mexico/US border near Corpus Christi, Texas, is vice president of student affairs at the University of New Mexico. However, having grown up with this ancient, honorable, and for many, one of the few forms of accessible and affordable health care, Torres came to revere it so much he focused his studies on it and eventually earned a doctoral degree. He defines curanderismo as folk healing which arose around the time of contact between the Spanish and indigenous peoples of Mexico, although it contains some elements of Moorish tradition the Spanish apparently brought with them. It contains the idea that all healing comes from God, and thus, has strong, Judeo-Christian influences, as well as concepts and practices known to the indigenous populations of Mexico.

Some might consider curanderismo a thing of the past. However, this is not the case. While Torres has written extensively about a trio of well-known curanderos, one of whom was a woman exiled to the U.S. because of her political beliefs, he notes that curanderismo is alive and well today. He has worked with a curandera in Albuquerque and annually presents a class at UNM involving curanderas and students from around the country. I’ve also encountered people in my community who have studied curanderismo and traditional massage, and recently, I accessed the Facebook page of a Colorado curandera.

Why do I bring this up here? Well, because some of my mysteries’ characters will be clients of a curandera.  I’m sure that there are male practitioners out there. However, since I began hearing of these healers, I have heard only of the feminine variety, thus, my characters likely will work with a female healer.

Like many other systems of healing, curanderismo is thought to work on the physical, spiritual and mental planes.  Many curanderas, therefore, are those who treat only physical ailments. These folks are usually called hierberas, because they work with herbs. Those who use traditional massage (sobadoras) to treat physical illness may also treat issues affecting the nervous system or the mind. “That sobador might be said to operate on the psychic level as well,” Torres states.

Thus, when we speak of susto, we are not speaking of the medical condition of shock. We are referring to something more. From what I have read, this condition sounds very much like post–traumatic stress disorder, which can be deeply rooted and which may affect all areas of a person’s life. So, for people who are victimized in some way, or who have seen something they weren’t supposed to see, a consultation with a curandera may be just the thing to pull them back from the brink of madness.

You must wait a bit, if you want to know who consults a curandera in one of my Murders in the Mesilla Valley.  As always, your comments are welcomed.

* * *

For more information about curanderismo, see Torres’ book mentioned above, and Curandero: A Life In Mexican Folk Healing, also by Torres, both published by the University of New Mexico Press, in 2006 and 2005, respectively. 

© Beth Morgan, October 2013

Quirks and Style Make the Character

How does one create a character that is believable and memorable? I would humbly submit (chuckle, snort), that it is one's quirks that make a memorable character—just as it is these same characteristics that make we humans who we are. By quirks, I don't just mean our hinkiness: I mean our mannerisms, our speech patterns, the things that matter to us, our "personal style," our pastimes and habits. All of these things and more, like a clay sculptor adding layers to his creation, build upon a memorable—or simply a useful—character.

Here's an example: Joan was an average American: she did not distinguish herself in school nor in taste. She had no major gift for conversation, limiting her comments to what she saw on TV last night and what she and her friends bought when they went shopping. She drives a white sedan that resembles every other white sedan on the road. She dresses in a style that makes her blend into the crowd: sweat pants, T-shirt, and athletic shoes. Her medium length, light brown hair she has twisted up on the back of her head and secured with a hinged comb. She wears tiny diamond studs in her ears. She is not a beauty; neither is she ugly. If you met her on the street, your impression of her would evaporate like a drop of water on a griddle.

However, Juana, while also no beauty, couldn't be any more dissimilar.

"What you lookin' at, gringa? Haven't you ever seen anyone roll a smoke before?" Juana is making herself a professional-looking roll-yer-own, which she will spark with a lighter that looks like a gun. On her bare left arm is a tattoo with a heart that reads "Mamacita;" on her right bicep is a chupacabra. You know it's a chupacabra, because the word is incorporated into the design. She wears tight jeans, stiletto heels, and a black leather motorcycle jacket is draped on the back of her captain-style bar stool. Her head is encased in a red bandana tied in the back, and her hoop earrings are so big they reach her shoulders. Although her hair is hidden, her makeup is chola-style, and her lipstick matches the bandana. She has enhanced a mole near her left eye.

Mr. Stripeypants in his stronghold (B. Morgan photo).

"Well, come on; sit down. I don't bite, bitch," she growls. She takes a deep drag of her fag and pops out a smoke ring. "That's right—beauty and talent. Now, what are you sniffin' around here for? I don't got all friggin' day." After she's heard your story, Juana leaves, in a hip-twitching display that makes all the male bar patrons howl, mounting her Harley and taking off in a deafening roar.

My thought is that when you are creating a character he must have something that makes him stand out from all others. Maybe she takes off her glasses every time she looks you in the eye. Maybe she dresses in bright colors and a flurry of ruffles. Maybe he pees outside whenever possible. He displays his nerves—or his boredom—by flipping his buck knife into a nearby log. Maybe he stutters or picks his pimples; maybe he whistles when engrossed.

It's the terms of endearment we use with our loved ones, Poopsie, the pet names we give our pets. Our cat has a name, but we call him Big Kitty, or B.K. for short; Big Galoot, because he weighs seventeen pounds, Mr. Stripeypants, because he's a tabby; Biggus Cattacus, and His Royal Hineyness, just because. It's the goofy songs we make up while on a road trip, the personal adornments we choose (or don't choose) that define us for others. It's mannerisms, speech patterns, thought patterns, presence, and a whole lot of other small details that distinguish  us from each other—the same being true for characters.

This is not to say that choosing vanilla over Boom-Choco-laco-laco-boom! has no value. Some characters must blend in. When that's what you want, they won't be flamboyant. Maybe they'll be like Joan.

What are some of the quirks of your favorite characters? I'd love to hear from you.
© Beth Morgan