P.M. Castle

Colorado Author

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What happens when a kid in a candy store drinks from a fire hose?

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It can be risky business to use idioms in writing. Nonetheless, two come to mind in describing the annual conferences staged by Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. That’s what happens when a kid in a candy store drinks from a fire hose.

At the beginning of the latest Colorado Gold Conference in Denver, I rubbed together eager hands in anticipation of the assortment of presentations scheduled there. By the end of the weekend, I was soaked by the information in which I’d been inundated.

In other and better words, the conference offers something for all writers regardless of the genres in which they work or the stages of their careers. More, in fact, than can be assimilated over a couple of days.

I attended presentations on pitching to literary agents, structuring novels and writing thrillers. 

I also attended a presentation on the duties of coroners in Colorado. I did so to more accurately portray in my novels the elderly owner of White Mountain Mortuary who serves as Diamond County coroner. Contrary to what appears on TV, coroners only rarely bring medical training to their duties. Why are funeral home owners frequently elected coroners? Simple. They have a place to store bodies.

But wait, there was even more to my experiences.

I was thrilled to join other finalists for the 2021 Colorado Gold Rush Literary Awards presented at the conference. An entry based on my novel “Delve Too Deep” didn’t win, but I really was honored to be mentioned among such admirable writers.

The annual contest for unpublished authors constitutes one of the best ways I’ve encountered to polish manuscripts and, in turn, agent submissions. Judges provide critiques that help me make progress on my works in progress. Win, lose or finish somewhere in between, the ultimate reward of the competition is the process itself.

By virtue of winning the mystery and thriller category in 2020 with “Small Town News,” I was invited to join other Gold Rush winners at a presentation to read the openings of our novels. I never imagined I’d one day stand before a hotel ballroom chock-full of the most talented writers in the region and read my work. MY work. How incredibly cool is that?

Of course, some of the most rewarding events of all at the conference aren’t scheduled. They’re the impromptu conversations with other writers about their work and where they draw their inspiration. Everyone I met was generous in sharing advice and encouragement. Every one.

Last — but certainly not least — I pitched “Small Town News” to three literary agents. Two were gracious enough to agree to look at pages. I realize the long odds I face. Agents might review a thousand submissions in a year, yet take on only a handful of clients. But an at bat is an at bat. And I’m excited for the opportunity to step up to the plate and take a big swing.

I suppose that’s yet another idiom. One I’m pleased to use in my writing.

40 years after college graduation, journey goes on

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On a clear morning 40 years ago, I wedged along with two friends into a Triumph TR7, zipped through Fort Collins to Hughes Stadium and graduated from Colorado State University. It was at once the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

Passing round number milestones tends to dredge up recollections long buried at the bottom of my brain. Perhaps it’s a welcome excuse for those of us who reach a certain age — nearly fossilized in my case — to wander down memory lane.

I believe it’s useful, nonetheless, for everyone to take stock from time to time. Circumstances are unique, of course. But generalities apply. It’s difficult to tell where you’re going without considering where you’ve been. It’s important to review what’s changed over the years, but also what’s remained the same.

The day after the 1981 commencement at CSU, I packed my belongings into my car and drove over Cameron Pass to Walden and a job as managing editor of the Jackson County Star. Along with low pay and long hours, the position came with a cramped apartment behind the newspaper office. The scenery, however, was priceless — mountains in every direction as far as the eye could see.

Weekly trips to Craig to print the paper at the Daily Press acquainted me with the staff there, one I was fortunate to join. Eventually, I became managing editor and oversaw efforts to produce what was at the time was one of the smallest circulation daily newspapers in Colorado, but one I’d contend punched well above it’s weight.

More important for me personally, I met, fell in love with and married a young woman as brilliant as she was beautiful.

I followed her to the Grand Valley when she attended what’s now Colorado Mesa University and then moved with her again to Oregon when she studied at the Willamette University College of Law. That afforded me opportunities to work for two more newspapers, covering sports for a daily and what we used to joke were cows and plows for a regional agricultural weekly.

Just months after my wife received her law degree and passed the bar exam, we were back in the Grand Valley. We had two bright young sons in tow.

Shortly afterward, I began working for the Business Times, first as a freelancer and then editor. That was nearly 23 years ago. Don’t they go by in a blink?

Like so many other industries, the newspaper business has experienced profound changes over the past 40 years. While I never wore a fedora with a press card tucked into the band, I pounded out copy on a typewriter. I assembled newspaper pages by pasting together long strips of text trimmed with X-Acto knives and waxed on the back.

Computer technology and the internet changed not only newspaper production, but also the ways in which information is gathered and disseminated. The old days spent hunched over government records and peering at microfilm to conduct research were anything but good, especially compared to the speed and ease of using Google. 

Newspapers still reach readers in print, but increasingly in digital formats through websites and smartphones. Some newspapers have transitioned entirely to digital publication.

Call me an anachronistic relic, but I still savor a printed newspaper with a cup of coffee. It’s a sensory experience I’m reluctant to give up. For that matter, I prefer printed books over their electronic counterparts. I also acknowledge that when I’m in a hurry, I turn to my computer.

The more things change, though, the more they stay the same. Even in the midst of technological revolution, core functions go on.

The core of what I do is tell stories. It’s the same as when I covered the school board in Walden and city council in Craig. It’s the same as when I wrote about high school wrestling in the Grand Valley and wine production in the Willamette Valley.

It’s the same today not only in reporting on business, but also writing mystery novels.

Wandering back down memory lane, I remember well the day I graduated from CSU — and most of the days I’ve lived since then. They’ve offered the usual mix of good, bad and occasionally downright ugly. But I’ve been blessed with mostly good.

Moreover, I remain excited about the journey and where it will lead next.

Writing fiction an educational effort

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In the ongoing evaluation of the pros and cons of writing fiction in which I engage, the pros always outnumber the cons.
It’s not so much the fame or big piles of money, if you can believe that.
In all seriousness, I count myself among the fortunate few who’ve discovered something they enjoy and finagled a way to pursue their passions.
Granted, I haven’t yet explored all the other possibilities. But I remain convinced there are few things more satisfying than the act of creation involved in writing fiction. You invent some characters, plop them into a setting and then ponder the implications of a question that begins “What if … .”
What if a reporter who’s laid off at a Denver newspaper takes a job as editor of a small town weekly in northwest Colorado? What if a search for gold bars hidden a century ago in a mountain lake results instead in the discovery of a ghastly corpse lashed to rock?
Then the magic begins. Characters take on lives of their own and insist on doing things their way. Their story turns out differently than what you expected, but is all the more compelling as a result.
There’s yet another pro to writing fiction, though. And that’s the opportunity it affords to learn new things. Let me explain.
By definition, fiction involves imaginary people and events. It’s possible to fabricate nearly everything. J.K. Rowling proved that in the wizarding world she built for her Harry Potter series. The most inventive fantasy and science fiction writers do.
I prefer in my own endeavors to write mysteries to mix fact with fiction.
That sort of approach requires research — but as a welcome byproduct, the collection of an eclectic assortment of information.
In the process of writing two novels featuring an investigative journalist and history professor, I’ve learned about transmountain water diversions, business incorporation filings and the factors that go into establishing time of death for corpses recovered in water. I’ve also learned about the outlaw Butch Cassidy, the Overland Trail in Wyoming and the operation of the San Francisco Mint in the late 19th century.
I’ve spent a lot of time recently researching dinosaur fossils and even dinosaur evolution. And, no, I’m not trying to write some sort of sequel to “Jurassic Park.” Like I could even if I wanted to.
Realistic details and historical events help make the implausible seem not only plausible, but also likely.
In making characters more authoritative, they become more believable. If your novels feature a driven investigative journalist and brilliant history professor, then those characters better know what they’re talking about and, especially, what they’re doing.
Of course, a lot of what writers pour into their fiction comes from personal experiences. You really do write what you know. In that respect, every novel is autobiographical to a certain degree.
I chose my protagonist and setting in large part because I used to work as a small town newspaper editor in northwest Colorado.
I was excited as well to incorporate some of my experiences as a scuba diver into my latest work in progress. I know what it feels like to dive into a lake with poor visibility and nearly freezing water temperatures. Spoiler alert: It’s mostly miserable.
Although I’ve covered some murders as a newspaper reporter, I’ve never solved one. Come to think of it, I’ve never found any treasure, either.
But that’s where research comes in handy.
There are a lot of pros to writing prose. But if I’ve learned one thing from writing fiction, one of the best pros of all is the opportunity to learn new things.

From a favorite author, words to work by

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It only makes sense to seek advice from those who’ve achieved success. Rather than reinvent the wheel, why not just imitate the inventors? Or at least listen to what they’ve got to say about the subject.

I’ve been the grateful recipient of a lot of advice over the more than 40 years I’ve toiled as a newspaper journalist and, more recently, a novelist.

I once worked for a sports editor who set an indelible example for work-life balance. His advice: Come in early, bust your butt to finish the job and then get the hell out of Dodge.

I’ve been equally fortunate to receive excellent advice from some talented mystery writers, among them Kevin Wolf and Mark Stevens. I’d do well to follow their examples in telling compelling tales set in Colorado.

It’s probably true of people involved in most vocations. But writers seem an especially generous lot in sharing their time and talents, not to mention their encouragement.

A friend who pens both long novels and short stories — I’m writing about you, now, Mike Caulfield — recently shared a link to a post on the Literary Hub website. The post collected some of the best advice Ray Bradbury offered about writing.

Bradbury is perhaps best known as the author of “Fahrenheit 451,” “The Martian Chronicles” and his collection of short stories in “The Illustrated Man.” One of my favorite books, though, is “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” his haunting fantasy about what happens when a traveling carnival shows up in a Midwestern town.

I admired two related bits of Bradbury advice mentioned in the post:

“Don’t write for money. Write because you love to do something. If you write for money, you won’t write anything worth reading.”

“Writing is not a serious business. It’s a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun at it. … If it’s work, stop it and do something else.”

It might seem counterintuitive for someone who’s spent most of his life more or less writing for money to agree with his advice not to. Or, for that matter, that writing isn’t a serious business.

So let me add what I consider some important caveats to Bradbury’s advice.

Don’t write JUST for money. While I’ve been blessed to make a living writing, it’s never been about the money. It’s always been about the stories I’m privileged to tell.

While writing is indeed serious business that demands hard work, it ALSO should be fun. And it is. I can think of few things more fun than using a word that’s just right, brandishing a well-turned phrase or completing a scene I can’t wait to share with readers.

As is so often the case, good advice applies more broadly than initially intended.

The business of business, for example, is to make money. It’s an existential objective. Operating a business requires hard work and plenty of it. But it also should be a labor of love, one that’s fun.

It’s been my experience writing news stories as well as fiction that those who enjoy their work are more likely to enjoy success.

At least that’s my advice.

There’s a lot to learn from ingenious efforts

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I’ve long wondered what makes geniuses so … ingenious. 

How could DaVinci envision his remarkable inventions? What enabled Mozart to compose such magnificent music? Where did Einstein draw his inspiration to develop his theories on relativity?

For that matter, how, oh how, did Bill Watterson cram so much creativity, humor and insight into a comic strip about a hyperactive kid and his toy tiger?

Perhaps the more important question for the rest of us poor schmoes is this: Is there anything we can learn from geniuses to apply to our lives? If we can’t be geniuses, can we at least achieve to some degree their levels of prowess? 

If nothing else, I’d like to write a well-turned phrase once in a while.

Craig Wright explores this topic in his book titled “The Hidden Habits of Genius: Beyond Talent, IQ, and Grit—Unlocking the Secrets of Greatness.” A music professor at Yale University, Wright also taught a popular course there on the nature of genius.

So what makes geniuses geniuses? As Wright repeats in his book, there is no answer.

For starters, there’s disagreement over what constitutes a genius. Talent and intelligence are involved, but there’s more to it than that. Wright quotes the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer: “A person of talent hits a target that no one else can hit; a person of genius hits a target that no one else can see.”

Wright offers his own definition of genius as someone of extraordinary mental powers whose original works or insights significantly change society over time.

As unique as they are, geniuses share some commonalities — what Wright considers their hidden habits. Their work ethic, curiosity and passion. But also their faults as not-so-great human beings.

I was especially interested in what Wright had to write about authors — among them Mary Shelley, Toni Morrison and J.K. Rowling.

Wright cites their imagination. Think of the creature Shelley brings to life in “Frankenstein” or wizarding world Rowling builds for her Harry Potter series.

Then there’s grit. When she was a single mother raising two sons in a small rented home in Queens, Morrison got up early and stayed up late to write. 

And then there’s resolve borne of adversity. Rowling believed if she had enjoyed even a modicum of success in another endeavor, she never would have developed the determination to succeed as a writer. Her rock bottom became the solid foundation upon which she built a career as one of the best-selling authors of all time.

I’m no genius. I don’t even play one on TV. But I’d like to believe I’m smart enough to learn from the efforts of others, to take to heart the importance of imagination, grit and determination.

I’m even hopeful that some day perhaps my efforts will prove … ingenious.