Instead, I worked with my boss to schedule five consecutive Monday vacation days. I figured that Mondays would be the best day since I do all my household chores on the weekend and there would be few distractions. Today was the first day. I’d hoped to write three new pages and incorporate up to seven pages of the previous draft into the new. I exceeded my expectations by fifty percent-and I even goofed off a little in the afternoon.

For the rest of the week, ten pages of new and existing material is a reasonable goal. Next Monday, I’ll make sure I have even fewer things to distract me. (I needed a haircut and did some laundry that really could have waited.) If I stick with it, I could have this draft done by mid to late July.

The discovery made me look at my library with a critical eye. A double-row of books crammed on every shelf, I couldn’t find things I wanted and didn’t know what I had. The clutter was overwhelming. I needed to do more than weed a few books. I started in the closet, where I long ago installed overflow shelving that was now overflowing. I picked up each book in turn and asked myself, do I need this? The answer was usually no. I followed up with, do I want this? Surprisingly, the answer was rarely yes.

That’s not to say that I regretted buying any of them. I enjoyed reading them, and I don’t regret the money spent on them. But so many were either novels I’ll never read again or research material for projects long completed or abandoned. I freed over fifteen feet of shelf space.

What’s left are books I actually want to own. Sure, there are a handful  that are borderline–I erred on the side of keeping things because it’s impossible to un-donate them once they’re gone and I can always get rid of them later–but the library is less cluttered and I no longer feel burdened by possessing books I don’t even want.

I’m appalled to discover just how often that urge does hit. Like a rat in a Skinner box, I’d become conditioned by infrequent, random rewards to keep pressing that lever. Now, even though it’s not sitting next to me anymore, I still find myself thinking about “getting on the computer” every few minutes.

The worst part is that I knew what was happening to me and couldn’t break the cycle. I’d frequently tell myself that I should put the computer away, only to turn it back on moments later. Thank goodness for shoddy parts. I’m too cheap to spend money repairing the machine or replacing it, so I’ll have to find something else to do with my time instead of continuously reinforcing a useless conditioned reflex.

I was stunned that guest of honor David Morrell not only remembered me from Murder in the Grove 2008, but recalled several things we’d talked about. I got to spend a good ten minutes or so talking with him between panels on Friday and again after lunch on Saturday.

Agent Donna Bagdasarian also remembered me from a past conference. We exchanged maybe two sentences at last year’s Sleuthfest, but during a Friday Q & A session, she spotted me with my hand up and said, “You in the glasses. I know you.” Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that my sunglasses were on my head, so I looked behind me to see who she was talking to. So… now one of the most sought-after agents in the biz knows I’m a flake. C’est la vie. She’d have found out eventually anyway; it’s not like I can hide it.

My biggest regret of the weekend was that there weren’t two of me. Several forensics panels ran concurrently with panels on craft and business that I felt like I couldn’t miss, so I didn’t get to play with fingerprints, learn about blood spatter, or explore the nuances of probable cause. Sweetie attended those panels, though, so I can pick her brain when I have questions.

Meanwhile, in the panel on plotting, Rhonda Pollero gave us a worksheet called “Creating Trouble in Paradise.” It’s a plotting tool that could also be called “The Care and Feeding of Red Herrings.” Before the panel began, I’d remarked to my seatmate that I struggle with how to weave multiple suspects into a plot in a way that doesn’t make the real killer obvious yet doesn’t leave the reader feeling cheated. Moments later, the answer was literally handed to me. This worksheet will come in handy as I revise my current work-in-progress.

Saturday’s spotlight panel was a Q&A session with Barbara Poelle of the Irene Goodman Literary Agency. Not everyone who attends the conference has a polished manuscript ready to pitch, so Sleuthfest organizers provided this opportunity for us. This was a brilliant idea. Instead of feeling compelled to pitch, we were able to sit around a table and ask questions about pitching and about the publishing industry in general. Barbara’s inside scoop punctured more than a few myths about getting published–like you don’t have to be a veteran private investigator to publish a P.I. novel. You do have to write a damned good novel, but I think I’m up to that. I left the session feeling like I have a good chance at achieving my dream of world domination publication.

In addition to attending panels, I connected with fellow writers, both published and not, over card and dice games at the bar. I made new acquaintances and forged deeper friendships with people I’d met in previous years. I was sad to see it end, and I look forward to next year.

It was a lot like reading a good novel, when I tell myself I’ll stop at the end of the chapter, but I can’t stop reading when I get there. There was enough tension to hold my interest, and the level of tension varied so that it didn’t become monotonous. Little reversals of fortune grew in importance as time ran down, with a big, climactic moment and a quick denouement.

Maybe we can replace the “three act structure” with the “four quarter plot.”