Still There

 Even though I haven't been writing full time lately, that doesn't mean my characters aren't in my head at all. Every once in a while, one of them wanders in to say hello. Here's one of them:

Reggie Hawkins decided that if he kept his head down, he didn’t have to acknowledge that he was alone. He studied the label on his beer, which hadn’t changed since the last time he studied it, and took another drink. It didn’t taste any better than the solitude.

He finally shifted his gaze down the long wooden bar to where the bartender was wiping the same glass he’d been wiping for the past half hour. It must be hard to look busy when there was no one around. Maybe he was just waiting for Hawkins to leave so he could drop the pretense.

Hawkins had thought that some of his crewmates might come down, but it was getting late and that looked unlikely. He really ought to return to his room, but it wasn’t any better than this place, although the bed was probably a little more comfortable than the bar stool.

He took another drink, unsure why he’d come down here in the first place. Maybe he’d thought there’d be people here and he could find something in their chatter that didn’t exist on the television or his phone. It was a good thing the ship was scheduled to leave the next morning or who knows what he would have tried next.

He picked at the label, which really wasn’t a label since they’d gone to etching to save on paper. The trees were probably happy, except that they were no doubt used for something worse, like toilet paper. He bet they’d rather be beer labels.

Hawkins sighed. The truth was that he missed Nick Bartucci. He had no shortage of friends—on and off the ship—but no two friends are alike and he missed the one who was Nick.

The memory made him realize there were two things he needed to do: decide if he’d have trouble being aboard Penumbra when Nick wasn’t there … and get over it.

It still took him by surprise when some random thought pierced his brain and he was brought up short, as if walking into a wall that he hadn’t seen there. It made him shake his head, wondering why the memories wouldn’t leave him alone. They could be caused by anything, really: a laugh, something irritating, a baseball cap he spotted on a passerby. It didn’t seem to matter. Each time, he felt a sharp dig in his midsection, followed by shortness of breath and sometimes a coughing fit. A few seconds later, all seemed normal.

Sometimes Hawkins recalled a memory on purpose, just to avoid the surprise, but it still affected him the same way. And this had been going on for a few months. It was time to get past the whole thing.

He just didn’t know how to do that.

Hawkins turned his head. The bartender had set down the glass and stood at attention, gazing at the front of the bar as if he’d seen a miracle. Seconds later, the sound of voices told Hawkins what had caused the reaction. Three young people, two men and a woman, sailed into the room and docked at the bar, where they placed cheerful orders and carried on a lively conversation. Drinks in hand, they barely considered their options before selecting a booth a few meters from Hawkins, apparently unaware of him or the bartender smiling at them.

Hawkins offered his own smile at the beer bottle as he listened to the animated chatter, punctuated by laughter and occasional mock outrage. His muscles relaxed and his spine straightened a bit. After a while, he was ready to go upstairs and try to sleep.

“Hey,” he said as he reached for his phone.

The bartender gave him grudging attention.

“Put their first round on mine,” Hawkins said.

The bartender nodded and poked a few buttons on his monitor.

Hawkins saw the balance change on the little screen built into the bar next to his bottle. He tapped some information into his phone to increase the balance to include a hefty tip. Then he tapped the phone against the screen and put it away, which he also did with the last of the beer.

Then he headed to get some sleep before the next day's flight.

Reconnecting

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I made my usual trek up to Nebraska to spend time with my family, which makes this one of my favorite holidays. I love my family and I'm always glad when I get to reconnect with them.

During this time, I was able to ask someone who grew up on a farm about how corn grows. At first I was afraid to look dumb, but then I asked the question anyway ... and I got a useful answer. This might not seem important to you, but it was huge for me: the reason I asked about corn is that I'm trying to write a scene involving some characters running around in a cornfield.

That's right: I'm writing a scene! After over a year, I'm starting to reconnect with my characters. There was a dog named Nick in the National Dog Show and I immediately thought of my pilot. I'm starting to think about asking Reg's advice again. I'm trying to look at problems through Lamont's eyes.

What a relief. There were times I thought this would never happen again. It doesn't mean that I'm going to sit down and write my whole fifth novel next week, but now I really am beginning to believe there's a good chance it will get finished.

To those of you who write, I know you've probably gone through writer's block before. Maybe you're going through it now. Believe me, I know how scary it is when you think you're never going to write anything more than an email again ... but I'm here to tell you this: you will get past it! Just keep trying, just keep hoping, just keep writing (even if the result is awful). Remember what it is about your characters or story that excited you in the first place.

I have to laugh at the timing. I'm ready to get to work again, just as I'm getting hit with holiday decorating, gift-planning, baking, parties, etc. But I don't mind. Writing is a gift and I'm going to take some time to unwrap it again.

Have a magical holiday season.

Closet Spaceship Part 19

I was looking for Reggie when Tim Caswell spotted me in the corridor of Penumbra.

“Hey,” he said.

I winced, hoping he’d forgotten our last talk. “Hi.”

He laughed. “Caught you.”

“I was actually looking for Reg …”

“Is it important?” he asked.

“What?” I said. “Uh, well, no, I guess not. Not really.”

Sometimes I have to stop to admire how articulate I can be. This was not one of those times.

“Good,” Tim said. “Then it can wait.”

He beckoned and led me into the radio station, where we sat down in some chairs a few meters away from the microphone.

I fidgeted a little, wishing I could hear the song that was playing throughout the ship so I could lose myself in the words or the instruments, but he’d turned down the volume so it was inaudible. I looked at the blinking lights on the control panel, the crumpled candy wrapper on the floor next to the wastebasket, a scuff mark on the floor that looked like a bent cactus.

In short, I did almost everything but ask him what I wanted to ask.

Tim might not spend a lot of time around people, but he’s not dumb.

“You want me to find Reg for you?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I can’t ask him any more than I can ask you.”

“Ask us what?”

“What’s going to happen?” I slouched down in my chair. “Don’t answer that.”

“Happen where?” Tim asked.

“In my novel. In my life. In the U.S. Everywhere.”

When I saw the puzzled look on his face, I added, “Sorry. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” Tim said, “but maybe I could walk out of here and leave the database unlocked.”

I shook my head. “I’m trying not to get you fired.”

“Okay, so what set this off?”

“A lot of stuff. Amazingly enough, having the Cubs win the World Series didn’t solve the world’s problems. Or mine, although it made them a little less obvious for a while there.”

Tim started to say something, but then he shut up.

“No,” I said. “You can’t say whether they did it again. Why am I even having this conversation?”

“So you won’t have to tell me about the cubicle?”

I laughed, which felt good.

“If I did walk out of here,” Tim asked, “would you look?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. I’ve always had a fear of knowing the future, because if it’s not good, I can’t do a thing about it. If I don’t know, I can still hope for the best. “Would you?”

He thought about it for a while. “No, I guess not. But I do know this: you’re not going to tell me about working in a cubicle.”

“Not if I can help it,” I said. “You’re better off not knowing.”

“It’s funny,” Tim said. “I’m not a big fan of secrets, but we can both keep ours: don’t ever tell me and we’ll be even.”

“It’s a deal,” I said.

I can hope for the best, but will I?

I’ll try.

Small Setback

I have a proof copy of The Other Side in my hands! (Well, not while I'm typing, but you get the idea.)

It came two days early, so I thank CreateSpace for that. Also, I see exactly why it's important to order a proof copy because there's a small problem with the cover: the image is darker than expected so a silhouette in the image hardly shows at all. Thank goodness I had a chance to see this before the book officially comes out!

I've already notified the artist and she's working on it, so I'm sure we can get this fixed. She's done a great job so far and has always been very patient and willing to make adjustments. (I'll tell you more about her when the novel actually comes out.) Meanwhile, I'm proofreading the text to check for any typos or stray things that need to be fixed.

I have given you some teasers for this novel, but I thought I'd give you a first look at the cover blurb:
       Reggie Hawkins has been in some bad situations ... and being confined to his
     house for weeks has to be in the top five. No appliance is safe when a mechanic
     gets bored.
       Things are about to change, though: a messenger with a warning is on the way
     and gunmen are storming his brother's law firm. Hawkins will have to act quickly
     to rescue his kidnapped brother.
       What he learns about who's behind all this will lead him and the crew of
     Penumbra on a quest to the far reaches of space, where they'll make their
     most stunning discovery yet.

I hope that will pique your interest! It's never too early to start spreading the word about the new novel coming out soon, so we can build interest for it. I'll be sure to keep you updated on its progress.

Closet Spaceship Part 18

(NOTE: This post refers to events from In The Shadows. I hope you've read it!)

Everyone needs a private place, a place to think one’s thoughts and escape the world for a while. For many of us, that’s home … so it’s a place I don’t want to invade.

I’d always visited Reggie aboard the ship, whether it was Outsider or Penumbra, but there was a time, while he was recovering, that he wasn’t there. I didn’t think Cyril was ready to see me, so I avoided him, but that meant avoiding Reggie, too. I wondered if I should just leave him alone.

This left me with another problem, though: as long as Reggie was recovering, the others were living their private lives, too. I didn’t want to drop by their homes unannounced, but I couldn’t hang out with them on the ship, and I didn’t think I should overdo it with Sean.

I missed them.

I was working on the next novel, polishing it mostly, so it shouldn’t have been such a problem, but rewriting is a lonely business. I was dealing with words, not characters, and sometimes words don’t want to be wrangled without an exhausting fight.

I finally broke my own unwritten rule. Let’s face it, I’m sort of making up the rules as I go along, so occasionally there will be adjustments.

There wasn’t any snow, but it was still cold. I walked around a little, flapping my arms and shivering. I eyed the rocks circling one of the trees. I walked around the storage shed in the far corner. I thought maybe I shouldn’t be there.

Then the back door opened.

Reggie backed out and closed the door. When he turned around, I was startled to see him leaning on a cane. He took a few steps toward me, but I darted to join him so he wouldn’t have to go any farther than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t know—”

“Forget it,” he said. “I’m bored as hell anyway.”

“Are you supposed to be walking?” I asked. I knew he’d been badly injured, but I’d managed not to think about it. The cane made it impossible to ignore, though.

“Sure,” he said. “Thought I was so smart: I lost the cane so even Cy couldn’t find it. So what’s he do? Buys me another one, damn it.”

I checked his expression to see that he wasn’t angry at his brother.

“It’s mostly for balance,” he said. “So why are you here? Not much to see, is there?”

“Rewriting,” I said, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t. Reggie looked puzzled.

“Take your favorite book,” I said. “Now read it ten times in a row.”

He nodded. “So you’re bored as hell, too.”

“Pretty much.”

He laughed. “We’re just a couple of winners, right? Got it made.”

I smiled. “That’s right. Top of the world.”

“Give it a while,” Reggie said. “I’ll get back, so will you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And he was right: The Other Side is coming soon. Stay tuned!

Closet Spaceship Part 17

I sat on a bench, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I was wearing a coat because even though it was spring, it was also Chicago and there was a definite chill in the air. I was hoping that was only literal, not figurative.

He almost walked right past me. I saw his steps falter, then sort of stumble to a halt, but at first he didn’t look at me. I think he knew he could just keep walking and I wouldn’t say anything.

He sighed before he turned to face me.

“Hi, Sean,” I said.

I don’t know if I would have tried again if Reggie hadn’t asked me to do it. I’ll never know if Sean said something to him or it was his idea, but I told him I’d try.

“Thank you,” I said.

This startled Sean. “For what?”

“For introducing me to them.”

“I didn’t really—I mean, that’s not how …” Sean looked confused and sat down on the far end of the bench where I sat.

“Okay, not on purpose,” I said, “but you were interesting enough for me to stick with you, and I got to meet them because of it.”

“Reg is my friend,” Sean said. “He says you’re okay, but …”

“You should listen to him,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work.

“You should leave him alone,” Sean said.

That surprised me. “Why?”

Sean thought about this for a while. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’d do anything for anyone.”

“I know,” I said.

“So leave him alone. You don’t need to make a spectacle of him.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I have every respect for him, for the whole crew. Don’t you think people need and want to read about people like that?”

“I don’t care,” Sean said. “Leave them alone.”

“So you’re not mad that I wrote about you?” I asked.

Sean scoffed. “Why would you think that?”

Sometimes it seems I don’t know anything. (More often than I want to admit, actually.)

“Uh, well, I was trying to figure it out—” I said.

“After I shut the door in your face,” Sean said. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I didn’t know what to say, especially since I agreed with him. “Okay.”

“It’s not about me,” Sean said, “especially since it looks like you stopped writing about me anyway.”

I must have scowled at him because he explained, “I looked them up. Your books, I mean. I didn’t read them, but I read the cover blurbs.”

“You’re not mad I stopped writing about you, though?” I asked.

Sean rolled his eyes. “No. No way.”

“Sean, bad things are going to happen to them,” I said. “That’s the nature of what they do. Do you think if I stop writing about them, those things won’t happen?”

Whoa. If a tree falls and no one hears it …

“I know what they do, what it means,” Sean said, “but … he’s my friend.”

“Oh,” I said as I finally got it.

Sean cares about the crew and respects what they do, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He knows the dangers involved, maybe better than most people, so he’s a little angry that they put themselves in so much danger. But he can’t be mad at them—

I stood up. “Sean, it’s okay. I understand.”

I took two steps, but then I stopped.

“Do you think we can see each other again?” I asked. “Maybe if I let you throw something at me?”

One side of his mouth twitched a little. It was as close as he could come to a smile at the moment, but I appreciated the effort.

“I don’t know,” he said.

I was trying to be strong, but it stung a little.

“Give me some time,” Sean said.

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for not refusing outright. And thanks for not telling me how many books there are. I’ll work that out as I go.”

Sean nodded. “Thanks for trying again.”

“I think it’s worth it,” I said.

Teasers

WARNING: This blog post contains some minor spoilers. If you haven't read Another Shot or In the Shadows, you might consider skipping this one. (The obvious solution is to read them now!)

I just watched a trailer for the new episode of "The X-Files," which will air next Sunday, Jan. 24. It's one of those shows that my significant other and I enjoyed for years. We loved the creativity of the storylines, we enjoyed most (but not all) of the conspiracy theories, we laughed at the corny jokes, but mostly I think we enjoyed the relationship between Mulder and Scully. The trailer makes me think the series will keep those strengths and add some new elements. I'm looking forward to seeing what they can do with it.

It occurs to me that some of you might be thinking of The Other Side in the same way. Will it have the same characters? Will it have the same chemistry? Will I crash another spaceship? Will I be able to do anything new? (I am very aware that crashing another spaceship would not be new, and I think I've managed to avoid it this time!)

Unfortunately, The Other Side won't come out right away, due to some extensive rewriting, but I haven't said much about it ... so maybe it's time to give a few teasers.

First of all, this novel will include the return of Sean Foster. He won't be a major factor in the story, but he will make an appearance. I hope that's good news for you.

We'll need to see how Reggie Hawkins is recovering from what happened near the end of In the Shadows. How inactive has he been? How long can he stay that way? What's his brother like?

If you recall, Lamont's crew had a mission for In the Shadows that they didn't get to fulfill: investigate the new wormhole. This time around, they're going to take a look ... and there will be some unexpected results. What is on the other side?

You'll see a little more of Gwen Radcliffe and pay a return visit to T.J.'s Bar. And you might want to review Another Shot before you read this one, although it isn't necessary.

I think that's all I'm willing to divulge for now. I hope it's enough to keep you interested while I try to finish the novel. I'll keep you posted!

Thanks, as always, for reading my blog. Feel free to leave a comment.

Closet Spaceship Part 16

The next time Nick saw me, he stopped walking along the main corridor, stepped back and said, “No.”

I stopped, too. “What?”

“No,” he repeated. “I’m not doing it.”

“Okay,” I said. “So don’t do it.”

Nick likes to make people think he knows what they’re talking about, so I thought I’d do the same to him.

He squinted at me. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” I said. “I forbid you to do it.”

That was enough over the top that he caught on and rolled his eyes.

“Nick, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“No s**t,” he said.

Reggie came around the corner from the dock area and scoffed when he saw us.

“What?” we both said. Nick scowled at me for that.

“Could you two be any more different?” Reggie asked. “I don’t think so.”

I crossed my arms. “You better not be referring to age.”

“Or height,” Nick said.

Reggie looked uncomfortable.

“Or gender,” I said.

“Or …” Nick was stuck until he touched the bill of his cap. “Or hats.”

Reggie and I both laughed.

“Shut up,” Nick said, which made us laugh harder.

“Or hats,” I said before I completely lost it. I was unable to say anything else for a few minutes. Every time I tried, I started laughing again.

Reggie laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall.

Finally Mark had to come find out what was going on, since I’m sure we were audible throughout most of the ship. He stood there shaking his head at the two of us.

“This is all your fault,” Nick said to him.

“Right,” Mark said. “My fault.”

Reggie was the first to try to compose himself. He took a couple of deep breaths and stood up straight, biting his lower lip. By that time, I could hardly breathe, so I did the same. We looked at each other out the corners of our eyes and almost lost it again, but managed to keep control.

“Sorry,” I gasped. “Not your fault.”

Nick said, “She probably wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t said we’re supposed to tell all our secrets.”

“What?” Mark said. “I never said that!”

“Nick, you’re such a trog sometimes,” Reggie said. “All he said was, we can tell why we did stuff, if we want.”

“Yeah, like why did I ever join this crew?” Nick grumbled.

“So why did you?” Reggie asked.

“Like I’d tell you,” Nick said. He looked at me. “Or you.”

“Okay,” I said. “You won’t be telling me anything. Got it.”

I didn’t think he’d want me to explain to him that he didn’t have to tell me anything because eventually he’ll show me.

And that may not be easy for either of us.

      For now, I can be grateful that he made me laugh.

Onward

Happy 2016!

I've done some of my year-end tasks: changed the calendars, taken down the Christmas lights, put away the tree ... oh, and run some year-end sales reports.

Whew. That added a solemn note to my day. If you include all formats of my novels (paperback and Kindle), I sold 78 copies in 2013, my first year at this. That was with only one novel out.

In 2014, I had two novels out and I sold 36 copies in all.

In 2015, I had three novels out and I sold 16 copies in all.

Ouch. Sixteen copies all year! That's not the direction I saw things going. It was easy to feel gloomy about that, and I did for a while.

But then I took a step back. When I first released Outsider, I thought I'd probably sell about three copies (mostly to family). I've sold a few more than three, so I think I can be proud of that.

Besides, sales weren't really the point. I started writing Outsider because I thought it was fun. As I went along, I realized I cared about my characters and wanted to explore them some more, so I wrote a few more novels. At some point in the continuous rewriting of Outsider, I decided it was time to stop doing that, so I published it. I really wanted to share my characters with other people. And I've done that. It's pretty amazing to me that Lamont and Reg and Sean can live in other people's heads, not just in mine. They can do that if people share copies of the novel or check them out of a library, which won't show on a sales report.

So I'm going to do what I was doing before I ran the reports: go back to making The Other Side as good as I can make it. I'm going to fix the problem chapters, determine when I think it's ready and then publish it.

That's what I do. I write and rewrite. If I sell some along the way, that's great. I really appreciate all of you who have bought a copy or two! It would be nice if we could make 2016 better than 2015 ... but if not, that's okay. I'll be working on the fifth one!

Closet Spaceship Part 14

[NOTE: This installment contains a spoiler. If you haven’t read In the Shadows yet, I suggest you read it before this blog.]

It’s easy to find Tim Caswell: if he isn’t fixing the electronics somewhere, he’ll be in the radio studio. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner.

I was on the radio sometimes, in college, but the studio didn’t look anything like the one where I found Tim. For one thing, I was using turntables. That’s right: LPs and 45s. I know I’m showing my age, but there it is. I think there was some finesse involved, knowing exactly how far to rotate that disk so the song would start just as I finished introducing it. No countdown timers or anything like that, just a working knowledge of the song.

But Tim knows a lot about music, so I can’t criticize him. It’s kind of strange to think that what’s new to me is old to him, especially since he’s younger than I am. That makes my brain shiver a little bit.

When he saw me, he seemed more curious than anything.

“Are you looking for somebody?” he asked.

“No, why?” I said.

He shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d ever get a visit.”

I sat down. “So I’m kind of like a ghost, then? You never know when—or if—I’ll appear.”

“Kind of like that, yeah.”

“It’s funny,” I said. “That’s how I think of all of you sometimes. There are times when I don’t think you’re ever going to show up again.”

He scowled. “But we’re right here all the time.”

“I know, but I can’t always see or hear you,” I said. “Writer’s block.”

“Oh,” he said. “I understand that. Sometimes I sit here and I can’t think of anything to say.”

“It’s rough, isn’t it?” I said.

He nodded.

I smiled. It’s always nice when I discover something I have in common with one of my characters, at least when it’s something good.

“That was pretty amazing what you did with Devereaux,” I said.

I really know how to kill the moment. Tim immediately frowned and crossed his arms.

“You mean, when I made friends with him and thought he was legit?” he asked.

“No, that is not what I—”

“I know,” he said, “but that’s what I did. I even vouched for him.”

“You know what?” I said. “I did that once, too.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You vouched for a mass murderer?”

“No, I didn’t, but look, I don’t have the type of job where I run into those. I just run into weasels, crooks and the occasional back-stabber, that’s all. I work in a cubicle.”

“Wow,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Me, too, sometimes.”

Before Tim could ask me for details, I said, “I mean, when you tricked him into talking.”

“Yeah.” Tim inspected his headphones. “Nick was gonna shoot him.”

“Oh, that would have been helpful,” I said. “It’s a good thing Nick wasn’t serious.”

“He wasn’t? But he had the gun and everything.”

I glanced around to be sure we were alone. “He thought he wanted to do it, but Nick isn’t a cold-blooded killer any more than anybody on this crew. Why do you think he made sure the captain saw him? He could easily have shot Devereaux before the captain knew he was there.”

Tim considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

“Nick did it for Reg,” I said, “and you did it for Captain Lamont.”

Tim nodded. “I heard him talking to Martinez. He’s had to do a lot of things, but that would have been too much, beating the truth out of Devereaux. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“You saved a lot of people, Tim,” I said. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“That’s what the captain said.”

“He knows he’s one of them.” I stood up. “I was here to see you, Tim. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Okay,” Tim said. “But next time we’re talking about your cubicle.”

Cue the ominous music.

      A good DJ doesn’t talk over the music, so I made a hasty retreat.

Placement of "He/She Said"

Most of us have characters who speak. Each character should have his/her own pattern of speech, vocabulary and accent. Much of the time, your reader should be able to tell who’s speaking by how it’s said, but the rest of the time, you’ll need to identify the speaker.

So how do you do this? You use “said.” But how do you do that?

I have four main methods:

1. “Then,” Smith said, “we saw it.”

I like this one because it lets you include a dramatic pause without having to worry about using a dash, ellipsis or other punctuation mark. Strategic placement of “he/she said” can change the whole effect of the sentence. “If you get out of here,” Smith said, “come back for me.” The pause makes me think Smith isn’t very hopeful.

Use this sparingly, though, so you won’t annoy your readers with needless interruptions … and make sure it actually fits. This is just stupid: “Then we,” Smith said, “saw it.”

2. “Then we saw it,” Smith said.

The second method is more common and I use it most of the time. You don’t want to use this for every sentence in a conversation or it will be overwhelming. However, you do want to sprinkle a few of these in there so your reader isn’t forced to count lines to determine who said what.

3. Smith said, “Then we saw it.”

I rarely use this one, but I do find it useful when I write an entire paragraph about one character and then I have a completely different character say something.

For example, in the fourth novel, I have a paragraph that shows Hawkins jogging in the dock area when he gets an unexpected call over the radio.

I followed it up with this:

Bartucci said, "Reg, you need to come up here and tell somebody I'm not your personal secretary."

Otherwise, the reader would have to get to the very end of the sentence to know who's saying this and it might be confusing.

(I hope you're excited to read a snippet of the next novel before anyone else!)

4. None of the above.

Of course, sometimes you can avoid "said" altogether if you use an action to identify the speaker.

Hawkins laughed. "I don't think anybody's got him completely figured out. I think he likes it that way."

That's from Outsider. (You get extra credit if you know who Reg is talking about.)

One more thing: beware of using too many synonyms for “said” or it can get ridiculous. One of the best pieces of advice I ever got when I started my first novel was to take out every “mumbled, stated, declared, proclaimed, grumbled, or asserted” and replace them with “said.” It made the story much smoother and better. I throw in the occasional “shouted” or “demanded,” but I use them sparingly.

I hope this is helpful. You want to identify who’s speaking so the reader can follow along, but you don’t want the reader to stumble over it.

Play around with these and see which works best the next time one of your characters has something to say.