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“Susie, did you bring the things?”

This is my first question upon being picked up in a big silver minivan at the Minneapolis airport for the annual autumn ritual known as Plot Group.

Our plot posse varies from year to year. This year the guilty parties are : Connie, Xtina, Me, Susie Kay Law, Susan Sizemore, and Geralyn Dawson. Who would guess that such a mixture will result in the most fabulous eruption of brainpower and creativity ever known in the history of plotting? If this sounds like a teensy weensy exaggeration . . . you had to be there. My theory is that the combination of personalities and the performance of ancient plot group rituals resulted in a perfect psychic groove.

“The things” I ask Susie about . . . well, that is a gigantic pan of caramel cashew chocolate oatmeal bars, which she brings every year. Don’t ever attempt to plot without The Things. It has been our discovery that minds fueled with these sticky gooey yummy cookie-bars will inevitably come up with great plots.

Another essential preparation for plotting--the ritual exchange of gifts. As you can see from our photo, my gift to everyone is a pair of oversized crystal-studded sunglasses. Among our other exchanges : Susan Sizemore bestows the most gorgeous hand-knitted scarves, and Connie brings everyone a bottle of Mad Housewives merlot. Which leads me to reveal another plot group necessity : keep minds lubricated with good red wine.

We drive up to Connie’s gorgeous cabin on a lake, where the air is clean, the woods rustle with ancient music and mystery, and the cabinets are stocked with coffee and microwave popcorn. No TV. At Connie’s place we are entertained exclusively by the sound of our own voices and the inventions of our minds.

In the interest of being completely forthcoming, I will reveal there is a philosophical difference between Connie and moi on our style statements for the weekend. Connie feels one should “dress down” in the woods in Northern Minnesota. It becomes immediately apparent that “dressing down” is a relative concept. Connie has specifically stated that we are to wear tee shirts, jeans and sweatshirts, and no makeup. I argue that I should be allowed to use moisturizing foundation with SPF to protect my skin, and gloss to keep my lips from getting chapped. In other words, I need make-up for health reasons. Connie remains skeptical. Later I change into my pink crystal-studded Minnie Mouse tee and leather-trimmed jeans, which Connie views with a threatening glower but remains mercifully silent.

The actual plotting begins as soon as the refrigerator is stocked and the casserole is in the oven. Connie has made a delicious chicken, lime and rice dish, and sliced fresh homegrown yellow and red tomatoes with basalmic vinegar. All plotting sessions are taped. We are all familiar with the rules, including : do not force a concept on an author even if everyone else loves it . . . . there are no stupid ideas . . . and, work at a plot until the author is happy with what she’s got. Before last year I had always plotted solo. I had no idea how much you can learn from working with others.

Every kind of plotting personality is represented in this year’s group. There is Connie the Architect, who pays keen attention to structure, consistency and style. Christina the Gourmet Chef, who patiently adds a little of this and removes a little of that until the seasoning is just right. Susan is a knitter, both figuratively and literally, her mind clicking even faster than her knitting needles. Susie and Geralyn are both Slam-Dunkers. They take everything in, quietly mull over thoughts and possibilities, and suddenly speak up with an absolutely brilliant solution or idea that pulls it all together. I’m not certain how to describe my own plotting personality, except that I feel like a hummingbird that has sipped from a thousand flowers. I am constantly referring to old movies, past books, personal anecdotes, anything my mind alights on during the discussion.

We break for wonderful meals, including Connie’s sun-dried tomato tart, Susie’s rainbow of salads and southwestern chicken roll-ups with pepper jelly cream cheese spread. One morning we dine on omelettes made with brie cheese and succulent orange-yellow chanterelle mushrooms. We have hunted the mushrooms in the woods, under Connie’s expert guidance. A long, sunny walk through the dappled forest, amid earthy-leafy smells and refreshing breezes is just what we need to keep the blood circulating and the spirits high. Our course is quickly redirected when Connie hears an animal-like huff similar to that of a mother bear who intends to rip apart any romance novelists who may have inadvertently gotten too near her cub. Faced with the threat of dismemberment, we turn around and prudently head to another part of the woods.

On the second night, I , as usual, become sleepy around nine o’clock. Group is relentless and ruthless, insisting on more plotting. I fuel myself with coffee and more cashew caramel bars. After breakfast the next morning, a suggestion is made that next year we need to plot with pedicurists and cabana boys in attendance. Unanimous agreement. We proceed to plot a surprising variety of books including horror, fantasy, suspense, womens fiction and romantic comedy. We constantly strive for the fresh twist, the unusual insight, the unexpected choice. Only one historical is plotted, and it is not at all conventional. After dinner I furtively shower in five minutes, blow-dry my hair, and frantically ply my limp locks with a curling iron. Halfway through I am interrupted by Connie’s indignant screams when she realizes I am self-grooming. Guiltily I trudge back to the main room, half-curled and half-straight. I do not have wash-and-wear hair.

More plotting.

By the time the weekend is over, we have shared ideas, feelings and questions. We have hugged, laughed ourselves silly, and exchanged personal confidences and secrets .We carry away our collections of good feelings and great plots like trick-or-treaters with heavy plastic pumpkins. It has been an precious intersection of hearts and minds, accompanied by good, loyal friendship. We want each other to do well, to be happy, to succeed in our endeavors.

In the competitive business of publishing, our friends are the oasis.