I made a very important phone call this week. One that's been on my to do list since October. (Really. Written in green marker on my white board.) As you can see, it's also kind of a scary phone call, or I wouldn't have put it off so long. I called a church. Not just any church-- a Friends church. You might know it better as a Quaker church, but the sign outside says the Entiat Friends Church.
No, I'm not changing my religion. But I am very interested in the Friends church, and this branch in particular, because I'd like to feature them in my new manuscript. I should really be more judicious with that word "new," because actually I've been working at super slow speed on this thing for over a year, and I'm only 50 pages in. I'm also a bit stuck, waffling between some big ideas and sort of getting to know my characters still. So meanwhile, I'm going to do something big and brave, and visit the Friends church, as well as interview their pastor.
With all that on my mind, it may not surprise you that I read this novel with my writer eyes more than my reader eyes. I really love Kate Morton. Her Anglophile settings and happy ending mysteries are comfortable for me. I think I've modeled my writing after hers in some ways. The Lake House is her newest and I was at the very beginning disappointed in the title; it seemed so unoriginal. And, as I read on, so did the rest of the book. The dual time frames of 1930's and early 2000's, the disenchanted young women in both eras, the case of a missing or unidentified child. These are all hallmarks of her writing and while I really enjoyed the story, it was all terribly familiar. Possibly that's another reason why I could examine the writing at the same time. I didn't have to pay too much attention to know what was going to happen. Morton is very skillful in how she weaves her two stories together, revealing just enough in one time frame to cast suspicion, and then prove the innocence, of a character in the other time, until eventually all is revealed. I like her timing and can learn from it. The ending, though, was predictable and even TOO happy for me, which I didn't think was possible. It was too neatly tied up. The description of scenery ran on and didn't evoke character as much as it could. The characters themselves seemed a little flat and predictable. I liked reading this, don't get me wrong, and will read her again, but I wasn't overawed. Instead I was invigorated. I came away with the sense that I no longer want to write just like Morton. I want to write like me.
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