A New Book—and Some Nostalgia

Today is the publication date for my eighth Kelly O’Connell Mystery, Contract for Chaos. I published the first in that series, Skeleton in a Dead Space, in 2011, so that makes fourteen mysteries in seven years—not quite two a year, a record that makes me look back.

I have always been a mystery fan. Like so many young girls, I grew up on Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames, R.N., and whoever else. I can’t trace the progression, but as the years went by my heroes were Carolyn Hart, Susan Wittig Albert, Cleo Coyle, and all their sisters in crime. I, meanwhile, was writing about women in the American West.

My writing career came about in a strange way. Academically trained, I was taught to support, defend, footnote ad infinitum, and do everything but give in to my imagination. Fiction was over there on another shelf, written by those with more freedom and imagination than I brought to the typewriter (yes, in the early days) and then the computer.

A friend gave me her mother’s memoir, and I was fascinated but I didn’t know what to do with it except annotate, criticize, dissect, and rob it of every bit of life it had. By serendipity I read some children’s books--Dust of the Earth and Where the Red Fern Grows come to mind—and it dawned on me I could turn that memoir into a children’s book. It wasn’t quite as easy as I’d thought, but one day (1978) I had a novel, After Pa Was Shot, published by a prominent New York publishing house. I envisioned movie contracts and great wealth.

What followed instead was a career low on the mid-list, writing about women of the19th Century American West—Elizabeth Custer, Jessie Benton Frémont, Lucille Mulhall (first Wild West roping queen), even Etta Place of the Hole in the Wall Gang, Cissie Palmer of Chicago’s Palmer House. I wrote non-fiction for school libraries and almost anything else I could get an assignment for. But, always, the mystery shelf called to me.

I didn’t know enough about the genre to realize there was a term for the mysteries I liked—cozies. No blood and guts, little if any nail-biting suspense, no sex or profanity. Usually a female amateur sleuth, a bit of romance, a bit of danger, and a happy ening—Nancy Drew all grown up. Joining Sisters in Crime was an education in a whole new writing world, and I ate it up, learning everything I could, reaching out to people, networking. Newly retired, I had a whole new career—and I loved it.

I’m realistic these days. Gone are dreams of even specials for the small screen. But I like the few dedicated readers I have, and it makes me happy they enjoy my stories. No, I don’t expect people to read my work a hundred years from now (a criterion I learned in graduate school), but I’m living—and writing--in the here and now. I hope you’ll keep reading. And I’m proud to offer you Contract for Chaos.

Distracted by a Novel

No, silly, not a novel I’m reading. One I’m writing but had put aside. Today was a stay-at-home and work day. I planned to put together the June Poohbah, the newsletter I do each month for my neighborhood, and then work on my memoir. But it was close to noon before I started any of that. I did get the Poohbah mostly put together and will wrap it up tomorrow. But then, after lunch, on a whim I decided to read that thousand-word opening I’d started on a novel a week or so ago.

It’s actually based on the incident of a semi-polite, unarmed intruder we had in the neighborhood about three weeks ago. At one point he was in the living room of a friend of mine—maybe I told you—and when she followed him outside as he tried to start her car, he said, “Stop yelling at me!” That line still makes me laugh, so I  invented a sort of inept intruder. Eventually, I fear, the story will have to have a more serious crime, because I don’t think this guy, who I’ve dubbed the “perfect stranger,” can sustain a whole book.

As novelists do, I moved the action from Fort Worth to fictional Oak Grove, home of Susan Hogan, Jake Phillips, and Oak Grove University/ Reading it today, more of the action began to play out in my mind, and I just kept writing. Kind of fun. I wouldn’t mind doing this for the time being—one day on the memoir, one day on the novel. I’m sort of between projects, waiting for edits on the eighth Kelly O’Connell novel, Contract for Chaos, and on my cookbook, Gourmet on a Hot Plate.

As for reading a novel for distraction, I’m between things there too. Think, with regret, that I’ve read the books in both Ellery Adams series that I’ve been following. So, one of tonight’s projects is to settle on a new book. Hoping to find one that will totally absorb me in its world.

Speaking of worlds, have you met Kate Chambers of the Blue Plate Café series? If not, hurry to get your free digital copy of the first book in the series, Murder at the Blue Plate Café. It will, I hope, draw readers into that world of Wheeler, Texas and the café until it becomes as familiar as your own neighborhood. Here’s the blurb:

“Small towns are supposed to be idyllic and peaceful, but when Kate Chambers returns to her hometown of Wheeler, Texas, she soon learns it is not the comfortable place it was when she grew up. First there’s Gram’s sudden death, which leaves her suspicious, and then the death of her married sister’s lover. Kate runs Gram’s restaurant, the Blue Plate Café, but she must defend her sister against a murder charge, solve the murders to keep her business open, and figure out where the café’s profits are going. Even Kate begins to wonder about the twin sister she has a love-hate relationship with. Gram guides Kate through it all, though Kate’s never quite sure she’s hearing Gram—and sometimes Gram’s guidance is really off the wall.

            “No, life in a small town is anything but idyllic and peaceful. But Kate loves the café, and she shares some of her favorite recipes—and some of her good friends.”

Kate’s adventures continue in three more books as she deals with a nosy journalist, an eccentric recluse, a thirty-year-old unsolved murder, and, of course, too many fresh murders. And she continues to share recipes from the café—some hers, some Gram’s.

The thing I know about series, from my own reading, is that you do get drawn into the world they create. At least I always want to read the next book to find out what happens to people I’ve really come to like. And I finish the last book with a sigh of both pleasure and regret at saying goodbye. So welcome to Wheeler, Texas.

Murder at the Blue Plate Café is free on several digital platforms.

I just finished Julie Hyzy's Grace Cries Uncle--in fact, it caused me to stay up too late and drink an extra glass of wine last night, but it was worth this morning's slight headache. I like Hyzy's books, whether they be about Ollie, the White House chef, or Grace, the curator of Marshfield Manor. The settings of both series are both believable and not, requiring a little willing suspension of disbelief. Really, does the chef at the White House get involved in diplomatic affairs to the point she saves lives? Still, Ollie is likeable, and there's enough food, menu, and food prep stuff to make it seem like a real world.
And Grace? Who gets a job at a place like Marshfield Manor? The building is huge beyond belief--with room for a ballroom large enough for three thousand and a sizeable apartment for owner Bennett Marshfield. And priceless art and artifacts. We can't even begin to guess the extent of Bennett's collection. And yet Grace comes across as someone I'd like to know, and Bennett for all his wealth and property is a kind, fatherly figure--though capable of cunning to see that the good guys win.
In this episode, Grace and Bennett, having learned of a link in family history, submit to DNA testing to see if they are indeed related--the results may well make Grace heir to his vast estate. Bennett has always treated Grace as family, but much hinges on the test results...and the suspense is carried throughout the book.
At the same time Liza, Grace's wayward sister (that's an understatement) turns up on her doorstep, destitute and in need of a place to stay. Reluctantly, Grace takes her in, knowing she can never ever trust Liza. And indeed when suspicious FBI agents and then real ones turn up, it appears Liza is involved in something far more dangerous than she has confessed to Grace. (Regular readers may remember that Liza ran away with Grace's fiancé, Eric, though she now claims she's left him.)
The plot turns on stolen artifacts and antiques of great value, and Grace is always in the middle. While Hyzy's novels usually end with a nail-biting, suspenseful scene, this one is perhaps the tightest I've read--which is why I stayed up so late last night.
Heartily recommended for cozy readers.

Thoughts on A Killing at Cotton Hill by Terry Shames

I don’t often review books on this blog, but this book had some lessons for me and did some unusual things with the so-called cozy genre of mysteries. Maybe Terry Shames would not call her new novel a cozy, but I would, and I find it remarkable for the way it breaks the “rules” of the sub-genre. There’s been a lot of talk among mystery writers about rules since Elmore Leonard’s death prompted the re-circulation of his list of rules. The general consensus seems to be you have to know the rules in order to break them successfully.

I was drawn into A Killing at Cotton Hill immediately by the voice of the narrator/lead character. Samuel Craddock is perhaps someone you’d not expect a woman writer to create. Once a small-town sheriff, he spent the rest of his professional life as a land man in Texas. He’s widowed, lives in a nondescript house in a small town—except inside is a fantastic collection of original art. He owes the collection, and his knowledge and taste, to the late wife he still misses.

Craddock is remarkable because he opens up his mind to us as readers. He ruminates, looking at a murder and at suspects from all angles but pretty much going on his instinct about people. It’s the rumination that intrigues me. I have been told by my mentor to stop rushing through my novels, slow down, and really let us see how people think and feel. Shames does this capably in what I believe is her first novel, and she’s sending me back to my work-in-progress in a new frame of mind.

I call this a cozy because it’s a slow, gentle mystery. The murder takes place off-screen at the opening of the book—one of the hallmarks of the cozy. But cozies are almost always narrated by women, amateur sleuths who happen onto murder in the course of their daily life. Craddock is not only obviously male but he’s no amateur—he has that background as a sheriff, and he has connections. There’s no love interest, though one widow in particular would like to latch on to him. Craddock doesn’t want to mess with the emotional swirls and tangles of romance—he’s still misses his wife, but he’s content with life as it is.

The other remarkable thing Shames does is to tell her story in present tense. I am impressed beyond words that she can maintain that point of view and make it work. Samuel Craddock, talking in the present, takes the reader every step of the way with him as he investigates the stabbing of his old friend, Dora Lee Parjeter.

Read this book. You’ll be drawn in as I was by Craddock’s slow, deliberate country wisdom. As I wrote last night, I just spent a couple days with my brother. He’s a Chicago kid who went “country” long ago, and he has that same quiet wisdom, that same instinct about who the good guys are and who are the bad guys, that sense of moral obligation, far different from religious piety. I admire it in my brother and in Samuel Craddock.

I’ve learned a lot reading this book (alas, editing called me away and I’ve not finished it) and from my brother. The “rule” they tell you about constant action, no description, just isn’t always true. Character carries the day—in fiction and in life.

Getting lost in books

Benghazi, IRS scandals, kidnapped women--when the world seems to be going to hell in a hand basket, it's time to retreat into a good book...or three or four. I've spent the last week reading two books and sort of taking a vacation from the world and from my own work. Both of these are as yet unpublished, so I won't mention titles or authors but when the time comes I'll blog and post about them.
The first was a cozy, and I really really hated to finish it. I didn't want to emerge from that world and leave those characters, most of whom I already knew from previous titles in the series. I think one of the most important things an author can do is to create people you care about and a world you believe in. This was a horsey world of dressage, about which I have only a smidgeon of knowledge, but I liked it anyway. It was a cozy mystery--yes, people were killed and there was violence, but most of it was off-screen until the requisite final climatic scene where the protagonist is in grave danger.
For the last two days I've done little but read a thriller, intensely dark, utterly scary but riveting because as a reader I was desperate to know all the while how the victim was going to get away from the sadistic socioipath. Unlike the cozy, this was a world foreign to me--I don't live with violence, and I'm a bit in awe of authors who can create such dark evil. But still I cared about the good guys; I wanted them to survive. I think with such books you know it's going to be all right in the end but getting to that end is scary and has you on the edge of your seat. Instead of being loath to leave that world, I was anxious to read to the end, to the terrible climactic scene I knew was inevitable. It was everything I expected and more but I emerged from reading this one in a daze, struggling to come back to the reality of my own, much calmer, much more peaceful world.
I don't know whether or not having a vivid imagination helps you to be lost in a fictional world, but I am also a person who has vivid, Technicolor dreams (with sound), often bizarre, occasionally frightening but more often happy. But sometimes in the morning I'm reluctant to leave the dream world I've just been in and for a few minutes the routine of getting the dog out and getting myself ready for the day seems gray.
And then I turn on the morning news shows and there it all is--Benghazi, IRS scandals, kidnapped women. Who was it that wrote, "The world is too much with us, coming and going"?