Getting back into my groove

 

Creativity is a funny thing. Some think it’s some sort of spontaneous will o’ the wisp kind of thing, and I’m inclined to agree, at least in part. I certainly don’t believe creativity is always “turned on” at the same level in an individual. Take short stories for instance—I cannot write one to save my life unless inspiration hits, Once when asked to contribute a short story to an anthology about World War II, I dithered forever about what to write. And then, an idea came out of the blue—I clearly heard an old woman’s voice lamenting her children lost to war. I wrote the first draft in about two hours and called it, “A widow’s lament.” The same is sort of true for novels—an idea has to “hit” me. I’m sure what really happens is that an idea simmers in the back of my brain and then bursts forth in my consciousness.

I thought for instance that I was through writing about my diva faux French chef, Irene Foxglove. But then an idea struck me—as I’ve been telling it, Irene tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Ahem, we’re not through with my story yet. I have to tell about the family I’ve left behind.” My fried Fred, who advises me, says if I ever am really through with Irene, I’ll have to drive a spike through her heart. Meantime, she’s given me the idea for a new story. That doesn’t mean writing it has gone smoothly. There’s that thing called writer’s block.

Writer’s block is an even funnier thing than creativity, though not in an amusing way. The dictionary tells us writer’s block is a state of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing. It happens to me, predictably, somewhere between 20K and 40K words. I write short—I know writers whose first draft of a mystery runs up to 90K to 100K but mine are often 55K at best. A good traditional or cozy mystery should be about 70K.

When I get to that middle point, my sticking point, my instinctive thought is “There’s so much more to go! How will I ever fill those pages? I’m ready to wrap this up now.” Hank Phillippi Ryan, an author much more talented and prolific than I am, calls that point, “The muddle in the middle.” I have been known to shelve a manuscript at 20K words, go back months later, and think, “Hey, this isn’t so bad!” That has happened with at least two books in the Irene series. And it happened with the current one which I’m calling, Irene in a Ghost Kitchen.

We are told in writers’ groups that persistence is the basis for success as a writer. Classic advice: put your butt in the chair and keep it there. I guess that’s where I failed. I put this manuscript aside at 32K words and focused on my cookbook. Then a friend, whose literary knowledge I respect, commented on what a good character Irene is, and I thought, “Hmmm. Maybe I should go back and re-read that.” I did, and suddenly my head is teeming with ideas. Whereas before I had no idea how it would work out, now I can see the ending. I’m just impatient to get it all down on paper.

Last night, Sophie and I didn’t sleep well, partly because one or the other of us had to pee. But I also lay awake for great bunches of time writing in my mind. I’m not one of those who gets up in the middle of the night to make notes, so I am trusting that some—most?—of that night-time activity is tucked away in my subconscious and will surface when needed.

Excuse me. I’ve got to go now, because I left Irene in a precarious situation. But PS I am delighted that people find Irene funny, interesting, complex, all those things. I call her outrageous. But I hope the narrative voice, which belongs to a much younger chef Henny James, is as riveting with her wry sense of humor and her clear understanding of Irene—well, almost.

Want to start the series? Try Saving Irene. Amazon.com: Saving Irene: A Culinary Mystery (An Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery) eBook : Alter, Judy: Kindle Store

A gloomy good day

As I typed the word gloomy just now, the term “Gloomy Gus” came into my mind, so I went down that online rabbit hole to find the origin. What I found was fifteen or twenty entries about crossword puzzle clues. Not being a puzzle fan, I moved on and finally came to a Merriam-Webster definition. No surprise: a person who is habitually gloomy. I wanted some fascinating story about a guy named Gus!

Anyway, yesterday was a gloomy day, with a wintry gray sky, not a bit of sunlight, and a wicked cold wind. A day to stay inside, wrapped in blankets. I took my own advice and spent much of the day at my desk with a woolly sweater over my pajamas and my beloved but tattered prayer shawl on my legs. Sometime during the night I had turned off the bedroom heater, which heats half the cottage; come morning, I couldn’t figure out why I was so cold. Turning on that second heater (one of those that hangs from the ceiling, sometimes called ductless or mini-splits) made all the difference. This morning, the temperature outside is all the way up to 37^o, the sun is bright, and Sophie and I are cozy.

An online writers’ group I belong to asks us each Monday to outline our plans and goals for the week. For at least two weeks, I’ve brightly said I was going to work on my Irene story-in-progress. But then I always found other, small chores to distract me. I can’t even blame it on being semi-isolated: it was me as a writer not knowing where I was going and not wanting to do the hard work involved in finding out. Can you spell procrastination? The good things is eventually I get so disgusted with myself, that I jump in and work on it. And that’s what I did yesterday.

I began the day with about 5,000 words written some time ago; I ended the day with maybe 5,600, so not a big gain in words. But a big gain in attitude on my part and, I hope, a good redirection of the story. There is a good side to writerly procrastination. Sometimes at night as I wait for sleep, I try to think about whatever I’m working on, or if I wake in the night and want to redirect my mind away from an unpleasant dream. So Irene has been getting some subconscious work but nothing committed to paper. Yesterday I made the one big plot change my subconscious told me was needed and then moved on to make the rest of what I’d written fit in with that. I only got two chapters done, but I think it was because that was slow, concentrated, almost word-for-word work.

So today I hope to do at least one more chapter. But household chores get in the way. I have emptied all the trash and set it out for my private trash man—poor Jacob! In a very few minutes, I will stop this and go to online church…..

As always, especially on weekends, food is a major topic. Last night we had a wonderful dinner—I sent the ingredients into the house and got back a plated dinner. Green salad with blue cheese dressing, asparagus, and crab cake with remoulade sauce. Christian did the crab cake in the air fryer (Yes, Mary D.,I am becoming a fan) and it was perfect. MY contribution was to make the remoulade sauce. My next thought is that burgers done in the air fryer might be good on days like this when it is really too cold to grill.

But today there is uncertainty. I have sent in a list of what meats I have in the freezer and am waiting to hear. Wondering if anything will defrost in time. I can always be happy with a can of salmon, if it comes to that. Hmmm…I do have some remoulade left.

Cover reveal

If anyone asks me what I did during quarantine, my snappy answer is that I wrote a mystery. Watch for it in September in both print and ebook form.

Why do I write mysteries?

I’ve always said I write mysteries because I love to read them. But I am also the child of parents with a strong Protestant work ethic that they passed on to me. I have this conviction that I must be doing something to contribute to the greater good of the world. Writing light fiction just didn’t seem to do it. Occasionally I was filled with guilt—I should be writing inspirational pieces or doing groundbreaking literary research. When I wrote children’s books, I could comfort myself that I was helping educate young minds. That didn’t work with mysteries.

Today, unbeknownst to her, my online writing pal, Texas author and marketing whirlwind Devorah Winegarten, gave me a great gift. Writing to another member of our small writing group who is enduring several serious illnesses in her family, Debra wrote:

When I was going through a completely horrible period of four years, grieving my mother, watching my older sister slowly die of chronic kidney failure, my therapist encouraged me to find a genre to read that cheered me up and allowed me to escape the day-to-day waking nightmares I was living. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but believe it or not, I chose murder mysteries, and those tomes often saved what little sanity I still had. 

So to those of you who write murder mysteries and think it can't possibly change the world or contribute anything positive, I'm here to tell you that there were days that the only thing that kept me on this side of heaven was curling up with a nice murder mystery where I could go into someone else's world for a little while and get a break from my own.

Debra nailed it with the line about going into someone else’s world. That’s what I love about fiction, particularly mysteries. If I can give readers that alternate world into which they can retreat, I’ve done some good. Lord knows, I’ve retreated into those mysterious worlds often enough myself.

Stand-Alone Book or a Series

Please welcome my Wednesday guest, Nancy G. West. When Nancy was seven, she and her mother wrote simple poetry to each other on special occasions. In high school, the Library Journal Pegasus published one of her poems. At eighteen, she learned journalists were underpaid and English majors sold lingerie, so she studied general business at the University of Texas (Austin and Houston) and earned a BBA.
            A few years later, married, with two daughters, she realized she had to study English literature and write. She wrote articles, poetry, and the biography of artist Jose Vives-Atsara. She founded Book Publishers of Texas, planned their conventions, and edited their trade journal for seven years. Her poem, "Time to Lie," was featured by “Theme and Variations” for broadcast on NPR.
            Then Aggie Mundeen captured her attention. Anyone who has tried to start over, get in shape, stumbled into trouble, or loved the wrong man will appreciate Aggie Mundeen.

Please welcome Nancy West.

****

            Some books are meant to stand alone. Others are meant to be part of a series. In my suspense novel, Nine Days to Evil, twenty-three-year-old Meredith Laughlin enters graduate school despite objections from her physician/husband. Smart but naïve, Meredith watches her life unravel and discovers her perfect existence is not all it seems. A stalker trails her. Her pregnant friend is attacked. Evil closes in, threatening her life. To fight back, she uses knowledge from her classes in abnormal psychology and Shakespeare's Othello. Meredith's story is distinctive: stand-a-lone suspense with an academic tie-in.

            In Meredith's classes, however, Aggie Mundeen pops up: "Professor Sammis called roll, looking pleased when Meredith answered. He paused with particular interest at the paradox of Agatha Mundeen: intense, intelligent eyes peered from a haphazardly made-up face. Meredith thought Aggie’s figure and carriage suggested a tailored, conservative outfit. What Aggie wore was a shapeless nylon warm-up."

At thirty-eight, Aggie, has overcome a difficult background and risen to vice-president at a Chicago bank. She’s single and eager to start a new life. She's been around long enough not to take herself or others so seriously, has a wry viewpoint, an irrepressible sense of humor, and fears only one thing: descending into middle-age decrepitude. She writes the "Stay Young With Aggie" column and searches for remedies to keep readers (and herself) young. Her background, world view, fearlessness, dangerous curiosity and obsessive quest for youth make her the perfect protagonist to sustain a series.

In fact, Aggie informed me she would not let me finish Meredith's story unless I promised to write a book about her—or maybe a series. Aggie usually gets her way.

In Fit to Be Dead, Aggie moves to Texas and has to shape up at the health club before anybody discovers she writes "Stay Young with Aggie." Rusty at flirting and klutzy with machines, she angers most of the male club members, then stumbles into murder. (Lefty Award Finalist for Best Humorous Mystery.)

In Dang Near Dead, named a "Must Read" by Southern Writers Magazine, Aggie convinces Meredith and attractive Detective Sam (a friend who preceded her to Texas), to join her at a dude ranch vacation in the Texas Hill Country. Besides wranglers, dudes, poison ivy and murder, what could go wrong?

In Smart, But Dead, released November 17, the Human Genome Projects is in full swing. Aggie hears scientists are finding genes linked to aging. She enrolls in class taught by a genetics expert and persuades Meredith to go. But the professor dislikes Aggie, and she stumbles into a campus corpse. Aggie assures San Antonio Detective Sam she'll stay out of his investigation. His frustration with her pesky intrusions creates a dicey relationship. But Aggie’s curiosity prevails, she probes for the killer, becomes the prime murder suspect and is on target to become next campus

corpse.

Aggie needs a series to tell all her stories and time to file the rough edges of her contentious relationship with Sam. They become closer with each book, but in Smart, But Dead, she may have interfered beyond Sam's capacity to forgive.

Meredith's story became the prequel to Aggie Mundeen's series. Meredith has had time to witness Aggie's shenanigans, to reflect and to grow wiser. When Meredith is ready to tell me her next story, she'll let me know. Meanwhile, Aggie is the star.

Smart. Bit Dead/

Smart. Aggie Mundeen is smart.

But. But she’s also a little clumsy, irrepressible, and irresistible.

Dead. She might well end up dead if she continues nosing around the university where her questions are not wanted.

“Smart, But Dead is the perfect combination of brains and heart. A tight mystery, an irrepressible heroine, and superb writing.” – James W. Ziskin, author of the Ellie Stone Mysteries and Anthony Award-Finalist for No Stone Unturned.

 

Nancy invites you to visit her at:

Website: www.nancygwest.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001KIYL1A

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorNancyG.West

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6442929.Nancy_G_West

Henery Press: http://henerypress.com/nancy-g-west/

Twitter: @NancyG.West_

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/nancy-g-west/31/867/691

 

Drum roll please for the cover of Murder at Peacock Mansion

 

Ta-da! Drum roll please! Here’s the cover of Murder at Peacock Mansion! Thanks to Kim Jacobs of Calliope Designs. Kim is the publisher of Turquoise Morning Press, which has up until now, been my publisher. The press is now focusing on romance—no more mysteries—so I will self-publish the new one (I already did that with The Perfect Coed with fair success, but I hope to get better at the self-publishing game with this new title). Kim did such wonderful covers for both the Kelly O’Connell Mysteries and the Blue Plate Mysteries that I asked if she’d continue to do my covers. By happy coincidence, she’s part of a design group. I love what she came up with on the first try and am delighted to reveal it.

I have spent the entire day, except for Wednesday night dinner with Betty, at my computer dealing with first edits on the Peacock manuscript. I sent the editor, the wonderful Lourdes Venard, what I thought was a clean manuscript. She proved to me again how important it is to have a professional editor. She caught everything from commas I should have put in and typos (how did bottom become bppyypm?) to major development flaws—the man lurking in the bushes who is never again mentioned, the strange fellow who gives Kate a ride and then disappears—is he related to the action? There were scenes where a character suddenly became a part of the action though he wasn’t originally there.

It’s been a long day, but I think the book will really be better for all the work both Lourdes and I have put into it. Sometimes I’m a slow learner with a tendency to think I can do all things myself…but I can’t. I know have valued help—a cover designer, an editor, a web maven. It takes a village to help me with a book.

I’m simultaneously taking an online course in self-publishing. Now the question is if I can post this book myself or need to pay someone to format it. Self-publishing may let you get all the profits, but it also costs money. I’m not enough of an accountant to figure out that balance sheet.

Anyway, long story short, how do you like the cover?

Waiting for thunderstorms...and going through recipes

We've had wonderful warm sunny days--in the high seventies and low eighties--the last couple of days. A little bit of heaven. Everything seems to have come out at once--redbuds all over town, that beautiful light green of new leaves on trees, the white blooms of pear trees. Even the air smells fresh. But tonight they say we're due thunderstorms with possible high winds and hail. If God would reach down and promise us no tornadoes I'd delight in that forecast. I love waking in the night to thunder and lightning but the possibility of a tornado lurks in my mind. Before it grew dark, I didn't sense that ominous quiet nor see that gun-metal gray in the sky to the west. Who knows? My car is in the garage, my dog is inside, I've done what I can.
Meantime, having written my requisite thousand words for the day, I spent a bit of time going through recipes, looking for something to cook Sunday night. I love the concept of Sunday dinner, always have, but my audience has dwindled (when my kids were at home it wasn't unusual to have 16-20--I don't think I'm p for that now), and sometimes I'm afraid my guests will tire of dinner at Judy's. Still I'm thinking ahead. Some of my possibles for this weekend:
Grilled chicken pan bagnat--those wonderful French pressed sandwiches, originally tuna but this one calls for chicken (I might do tuna sometimes if Christian isn't here)
chicken chilaquiles casserole--think I've made it before and it was good
King Ranch chicken--always a favorite, though I think I've learned that it has no relation to the King Ranch
Greek baked pasta with ground lamb--I have a hard time resisting anything with lamb
chicken enchiladas with tomatillo-cilantro sauce--really good, but ho, hum, I've made it a lot
Sunday chicken with two soups, white wine, rice and onion soup powder
Foil pack chicken--think I've about discarded that
If only my children come, I'll cook Dead Man's Bones--ribs cooked with garlic, apricot preserves and soy sauce--so good
I'm leaning toward the pan bagnat, which is a lot of work but can be done a day ahead. Which would you choose?

Emerging from hibernation

My house in the snow

I feel like I've been housebound for ten days when it's actually only been three full days. Last week in spite of ice and snow, I got out to dinner twice, the grocery store once. The three days I was home I had company twice--once for wine and once for dinner. So I wasn't really as pitiful as I felt.
Still today when I could freely walk down the driveway, I felt like I was coming out of  a long winter's sleep.
When I'm home alone too much, my anxiety builds up and I get too introspective--like, "Hmmm--how do I feel now?" Even last night, after my company left, I was a bundle of nerves, possibly due to the incident with Sophie, partly because I was determined to get out today. My lunch date cancelled, so I went grocery shopping--we're supposed to have sleet again Thursday and possibly be still frozen on Friday. So I stocked up on essentials--wine, cottage cheese, bread, and the like. In spite of nervousness about emerging into the world, I felt like a normal shopper in the store, talked to people, etc.
For the first time since last Thursday, Jacob was here and we did homework all. darn. afternoon. That boy can find more distractions--he has to go to the bathroom, he has to call his father, he has to love on Sophie. It was wearing on my nerves but good to have him back in the house. He was studying Africa, and I know nothing about the geography nor all those small countries, except I could usually help him with pronunciation. He explained to me several times why I was wrong about Addis Adaba--but then he used that answer. "I'm not arguing," he said. It's now an old joke between us.
Update on Sophie's temper tantrum. Vet says that is just what it was--misplaced aggression. She was really mad at the other dog but couldn't get at him, so Jacob and I were both handy and got the snarls and snaps. Punishment is not the answer. Ignoring her by going into another room is recommended, which we did. Jacob and I were both wrong to reach for her collar, and I was wrong to smack her in instinctive anger, something I'm not sure I've ever done to a dog. He said to watch her eyes: if they're dilated, she's upset. And of course if her ears are back. He recommended just walking away until she "settles." When she does, give her a command, like "sit." And reward her if she does it. Soon, he promises, the command will replace the need to walk away and will be her signal to settle. We'll see. Who knows? We may never have another incident (fingers crossed). But it struck me that might be a good technique to try on Jacob too.
A bonus of a day still much at home alone: I wrote about 1200 words. I read about someone who writes in whatever fifteen minutes she finds handy. I would normally think, "Oh, I only have fifteen minutes. I can't get into it." You know what? I can, did several times today.
Somehow the result of all this is that I'm really tired tonight. G'night all.

The geese are getting fat--and it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

I see all those cautions about not putting up Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving, and this year I can only laugh apologetically. I have felt so rushed, ever since I found out that most but not all of my family will be here the weekend of Dec. 6. We may do Alter Alternative Christmas--at the least I'll send their presents home with them. So I've been in a frenzy of baking, wrapping and decorating--far earlier than I normally would have, though I'm pretty compulsive about getting things done ahead of time.
One morning last week I wrapped a lot of presents, and Friday night I baked a Bundt cake to freeze. Saturday I went to the grocery, came home and made two pans of Toll House bars--it wore me out. The batter is stiff and hard to work with and though I softened the butter, blending four sticks of butter into three cups of sugar (brown and white) with a hand mixer is a challenge at best--I had dough bits all over the kitchen. I told Jordan next time she orders those she'll have to do the mixing. After I got them made and baked--with one pan not done in the middle, no matter that I left it almost twice as long and the edges were getting crisp--I was exhausted.
I spent the rest of yesterday being lazy. Cool, grey day, comfortably warm house, good book to read--Maya Corrigan's By Cook or By Crook, which I thoroughly enjoyed--and a long nap. It ended up a self-indulgent day and did wonders for my soul.
But of course I woke at four in the morning with thoughts of all I had to do. So today I almost finished decorating the house, separated out things that didn't need to be done by Dec. 6 (principally gifts wrapped) and made cookie dough, though I just didn't have the oomph to roll out the cookies--the dough is in the fridge for tomorrow. I realized I needed to pay attention to the writing end of my life. So I sorted through chili pictures and worked on the neighborhood newsletter. Once again ready for a nap, though Sophie decided to bark frantically at the rats in the attic during my nap--not restful.
Jordan is in Italy on a business trip (poor girl) so Christian and Jacob came for supper. I made hamburger Stroganoff, which wasn't as good as it sounded, and a good salad plus broccoli for Jacob because he loves it and won't eat salad. Christian worked on the greens and lights for over the door, and we sat and visited by the fire. Pleasant evening.
I've about given up on the novel I'm working on until I get this Christmas thing--and all those fat geese--in hand. But tonight I will go back and correct one scene. Where was my brain when I had a man, two days post-op from being shot in the belly, demand chicken fried steak? Rethink that one!
Have a good week everyone.
 

As the world turns

A week ago tomorrow, those of us who vote progressive were in despair, foreseeing the end of civilization, the end of life as we know it, possibly the end of the environment. A week later this old world seems to spin on in its inevitable cycle. Yes, there have been blusters and threats--Obama better cooperate or else, 100,000 taken off Medicare rolls, etc. The conservatives aren't even in power yet, but they're acting like it, even taking claim for economic gains of the past two years. I'm not sure how much of their bluster could be accomplished--Obama has veto power, and the conservatives don't have enough Senate votes to over-ride a veto; didn't we all pay into Medicare? I know they can't take social security, though it's on the list, because it's independent of government money and actually the government is in debt to social security. So I suspect we can look forward to continued gridlock, only this time Harry Reid won't be the bad guy--McConnell will. And Boehner will continue to be the cry-baby who can't keep his party in line. My point is, life goes on, and the world keeps spinning.
And life seems very normal today. Jacob was out of school, so we spent the day unpacking Christmas decorations--I know, it's early, but don't question please--and learning the states of the Midwest, their locations, abbreviations, and capitals (harder than you think). Nice lunch with Melinda where she and Jacob totally left me out of the conversation because she can talk football with him, and I can't. I wish he'd apply the intelligence he does to football players and statistics to the states of the Midwest.
Tonight Sue, my adopted Canadian daughter, came for a glass of wine, and we had a happy catch-up time. And then I got to work. I'm back on my thousand words a day kick--don't know how long it will last but it's only been five days, so I can't gloat yet. Still, it's a good feeling.
So yes, this old world will keep turning. We may not like it, but it's not the end of life.

Putting on a good face

I have spent much of today being determinedly cheerful. You see, my horoscope told me it was a good day to be cheerful and outgoing, and I might make important new contacts if I did that. Easier said than done on a rainy, dismal day when I didn't see anyone else until I got Jacob at three. And, of course, the Republican "rout" to overcome. Yes, I've read all the Facebook messages I got about why liberals lost--from President Obama to gerrymandering to the Democrats ongoing tendency not to support their own and, of course, voter apathy. What encourages me is that blame-seeking is done mostly in the sense of figuring out how things can be done differently in 2016. I am much encouraged by the many candidates who have said, "We're not through. We're not giving up the fight."
I have also been struck with the thought, expressed by several, that the conservatives wanted to control the government. Okay, now they've got it. Let's see what they do with it. I still have a sense of dread, and I did read and share a really scary forecast of what the future holds. But I'm determined to be optimistic.
I remember a friend who was distraught at the possible election of George W. Bush but finally decided that we had all dreaded Dwight Eisenhower's term of office and nothing bad happened. "How bad can it be?" he asked rhetorically. We all saw how that worked out--two unnecessary wars, tax cuts to the wealthy, and a monumental debt left to the country. So I'm a little afraid to say "How bad can it be?" But I remain hopeful that the country will survive and struggle onward to regain its once-great status in the world.
Betty and I went to Lili's tonight for supper--split crab cakes on wasabi mac and cheese. Really good. The cakes seemed to be all crab with no filler, crusty with sesame seeds and I don't know what else. And I guess it cheered us. When I asked how she felt about last night, she floored me by asking, "What was last night?" But then she said she knew it was coming all along. I guess I did too but I remained hopeful.
My good news is that a writing pal said, "The more you write, the more the ideas come," and it struck me that's why I have no ideas. So I wrote a thousand words on a new novel today. Yay for me! 

Food, dreams, and elections--not necessarily a good mix

Food is always on my mind but I’ve had some interesting dinners lately. My dining adventure pal, Betty, and I ate at Campisi’s the other night and shared the combination platter—more than enough for both of us. We each had a meatball, spaghetti with marinara, lasagna and a ravioli. With wine, dinner cost us a big $11 each—such a deal. The next night I browned an herb-marinated chicken breast from Central Market and then put it covered in the oven with white wine. So moist and good, but it didn’t make really good chicken salad the next day. Saturday I went to an event where the food was “heavy hors d’oevres” and I expected to starve—food was wonderful, plentiful and very imaginative. Still have figured out the filling that was piped into mushroom caps.

Last night neighbors joined me for lamb chili—part of my continuing quest for chili pictures. It was good, as was the apricot/blueberry pie Mary brought. Both were better a day later when they’d mellowed and blended flavors.

I had a bad dream last night—I was working in an office, I think for the executive secretary I worked for in high school—and I was going to school. But I was afflicted with laziness, no desire to do anything but piddle away time on things that didn’t really need doing. I woke in a three a.m. sweat, realizing that’s what I’d been doing all weekend. And in that panicky middle-of-the-night state I envisioned myself not working and growing rapidly older by the day. Needless to say I got up this morning and hit it running. I have this firm conviction that as long as you exercise your mind—as in writing—you won’t slip into senility. And for the physical end of things, I did my yoga routine again.

I will be so glad when it’s Wednesday—so tired of election calls and begging and predictions and wildly varying polls. I voted some time ago by mail, which I think is the best thing since sliced bread. I know how I want the elections to come out, and I care—a lot!—so this is like a time of suspense. And I’m trying to ignore it. I keep remembering though the Truman/Dewey election upset from my childhood.

Back to work. Had a new idea for a novel and want to make notes on it tonight. Tomorrow, ho hum--another run through the chili pictures to see where I stand. I think though I’ve been using the chili book as an excuse to procrastinate. Can’t do much more until the pictures come in.

Where My Titles Come From

Please welcome a special Sunday guest on Judy’s Stew--Marilyn Meredith, the author of over thirty-five published novels, including the award winning Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series. The latest in the series is River Spirits from Mundania Press. Marilyn is a member of three chapters of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and on the board of the Public Safety Writers of America. She lives in the foothills of the Sierra. Visit her at http://fictionforyou.com and her blog at http://marilymeredith.blogspot.com/

This is the first in a blog tour for River Spirits, and Marilyn is offering a prize for the person who comments on the most blog posts during the tour. He or she can either have a character in her next book named after them, or choose an earlier book in the Deputy Tempe Crabtree series—either a paper book or e-book.

 ****

I thought it might be fun if I wrote about how I come up with title for this series. I prefer short titles, two words if possible. And, of course, the two words need to have a relationship to the plot. The hope is that a reader will be enticed by the title and want to read the book.

Often I've found a quote either from a Native American or a snippet from an Indian legend that lends itself to becoming the perfect title. Usually I have the title before I write the book. In fact sometimes the title is what has given me the idea for the book--or at least part of the plot.

Once I had to ask my critique group what they thought ought to be the title of the book I'd been reading to them. They came up with many suggestions, but only one was the perfect title.

Contrary to my usual practice, I'd nearly finished writing River Spirits before I knew what the title should be. As I was writing one of the ending scenes, the appearance of spirits rising from the river gave me the perfect title.

I'm sure other writers may have their own way of picking titles for their books and if so, I hope they'll share in the comments.

River Spirits:

While filming a movie on the Bear Creek Indian Reservation, the film crew trespasses on sacred ground. The female stars receive threats, the Hairy Man finds a missing woman, and someone murders an actor. Deputy Tempe Crabtree has no idea who is guilty. Once again, the elusive and legendary Hairy Man plays an important role in this newest Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery.

When did research become fun?

A tad late today introducing my Wednesday guest on Thursday--thanks to the charming Radine Nehring for understanding. Radine is the author the "To Die For" mystery series, with the latest being A Fair to Die For. She tells us why she chose the Ozarks and how she picks specific sites to set her mysteries--there's an element of spiritual connection in her selection process. Take it away, Radine!

 

****

Oh, yikes, do I remember!

When I was doing research for college and university themes and theses, research could be both tedious and frantic--the skimming of material, making of notes, (this was in the days before Internet) and then the jump to the next book on the stack, hoping to find applicable words of wisdom to be quoted or incorporated.  How I well I remember the process, and how flown are the words and even most of the topics they were applied to.

But now . . . ?

I fell into choosing and doing research at some of Arkansas's amazing locations and events in preparation for novels because of two accidents. 

Accident 1. I fell in love with the magic of the Arkansas Ozarks on a weekend camping trip in 1978.

Accident 2. The choice, in 2001, of Ozark Folk Center State Park as a setting for the second novel in

my "To Die For" mystery series. Husband John and I knew the place well. We had spent delightful long weekends in the park and the surrounding National Forest. I needed a setting for the second novel in my series. Folk Center?  Maybe. Plot ideas began bubbling. So, why not choose a real place, real events, characters modeled after the real people we knew, and add the salt and pepper of a plot true to the location that could be real?

That's what I did. It worked. The Folk Center embraced the novel, Music to Die For, and sold copies in their gift shop. The park hosted a release event and continues to invite me for talks and signing events. They now sell all of my published written work in book form in the gift shop.  (I was at an OFC gift shop signing this past weekend, in fact.)

Bingo. The choosing of sites for my series would fit a pattern, taking readers to popular Arkansas tourist destinations and dumping them gently into plausible crimes taking place at each location.

Though I had known the Folk Center quite well, that wasn't true for other places where I wanted to set mystery novels. Therefore, prior to beginning writing, I needed to do extensive on site research at any chosen location to support the realism I demand for my stories.  

In my non-fiction book, Dear Earth, I wrote that something about the Ozarks caught me, heart and soul, and created a sense of home. It still seems to me as if simply standing on Ozarks soil and rock creates a magic bond that comes into me through the soles of my feet, and I fall in love, once more, with a place.

That sort of thing must happen at each book location I use, or no book is set there. I simply stay long enough to absorb the atmosphere, and so much else. It's like magic. When I visit potential story locations and the magic doesn't happen, I move on to the next place.

Pooh-pooh this if you want, but it's the best way I can describe what happens when I choose an adventure site for Carrie McCrite, Henry King, and their families and friends.

If you join me in one book or another of this on-going adventure, you can write it off as a free vacation for the price of a book!

Places covered after Ozark Folk Center State Park:  Hot Springs National Park; Eureka Springs, AR and the 1886 Crescent Hotel; Buffalo National River; Historic Van Buren, AR and its Civil War history, plus a ride on the real Arkansas and Missouri Passenger Excursion Train; the War Eagle area of Arkansas including Hobbs State Park, War Eagle Mill, and the enormous War Eagle Craft Fair.  And, more to come!  Stay tuned.

Don't forget, I have spent days enjoying each site covered. I can guarantee a good time there.

Radine Trees Nehring, 2011 Inductee: Arkansas Writers' Hall of Fame
http://www.RadinesBooks.com; http://radine.wordpress.com
Sharing the magic of the Arkansas Ozarks in "To Die For" novels
including  A Fair to Die For from Oak Tree Press.

 

Writing about everyday heroes

Please welcome my Wednesday guest, Susan Schreyer, the author of the Thea Campbell Mysteries. The sixth in this locally-set, humorous series, Saving the Queen of Diamonds, has just been released in print and e-book format. Susan lives near the scenes of her murders with her husband, two almost-on-their-own children, a bunch cats, a couple of tame lab rats and the ghosts of a number of family pets of various species. Her horse lives within easy driving distance. Occasionally, Susan makes a diligent effort at updating her blogs "Writing Horses" and "Things I Learned From My Horse," and writes articles for several worthy publications. Mostly, she works on stories about people in the next town being murdered. As a diversion from the plotting of nefarious deeds Susan trains horses and teaches people how to ride them and, when the weather gets to her, works in a veterinarians’ office. She is a member of the Guppies Chapter of Sisters in Crime and is co-president of the Puget Sound Chapter of SinC. When she has a minute she cleans her house and does laundry.

****

      Hi, my name is Susan Schreyer and I write about people and events on the edge of reality. No, I don’t write paranormal (although part of the fun is the distinctly unexplainable element or two in every book). I write about people with jobs, families, friends and lovers, pets, hopes and dreams -- and conflict. Pretty normal stuff, right?
Now, throw in a murder or two, life-threatening situations with dramatic conclusions and emotionally satisfying endings. Ah, now you see where I’m going. Not the stuff of everyday life, for most of us, right? Especially if you’re not law enforcement, but you do get to put the world right again.
What about the heroism? The “above and beyond” selfless act? Isn’t that pushing at reality? Nope. That’s normal, in my opinion.
“Aw, come on, really?” you say.
Really. Most readers will identify with a character’s struggles, desires, their less-than-noble thoughts, and their failures readily enough. But what about when the chips are down? How often does that elusive chance to shine come our way? Heroism is action everyone can hold to their hearts as something we would at least try to do if presented with the opportunity.
 “Yup, got that part.”
 Good. We’re on the same page. Now, look around you. There are acts of heroism all the time, every day -- even in our own neighborhoods. It’s right-thinking paired with right-action. There’s a hero in each and every one of us, although I don’t think we often recognize it, even when it happens. That’s why I write it. It’s every reader’s chance to say, “Me, too!” and see the hero in ourselves.
These elements are the substance of the Thea Campbell mysteries: excitement and situations that stretch the
limits of reality in a setting that has a high degree of familiarity, then touch on the human desire to participate in heroic action and make the world right. Oh, and one more thing:
Along the way, let’s not forget to laugh! Life, even when very serious, has distinctly farcical moments!

Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Susan-Schreyer/e/B004CLPMUG   Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SusanSchreyer; Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/susan-schreyer?store=allproducts&keyword=susan+schreyer webpage: http://www.susanschreyer.com blog (Writing Horses) http://writinghorses.blogspot.com blog (Things I learned from my horse) http://thingsilearnedfrommyhorse.blogspot.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Susan-Schreyer-Mysteries/161359303906634 Twitter: @susanschreyer

A banner day--and some uncertainty

My newest mystery, The Perfect Coed, is live on Amazon today--actually it was live a couple of days ago. The ebook was supposed to be delayed until October 1, but it doesn't look to me like it was. This is a huge deal to me, a book that is my first leap into indie publishing, one that I've labored over for several years, and one I really hope readers like. It's different from the Kelly O'Connell and Blue Plate Café mysteries--a little darker, a little more complicated, a little less cozy.
But when and whether to announce has been a dilemma. I was uncertain of the timing in putting a book on Amazon, so, compulsive that I am, I planned ahead--had it edited and formatted last spring and early summer. Started a listing on Amazon for it, but sat on the proof for a long time because I'd advertised an October 15 pub date. Then that seemed silly, and I approved the proof. It was up almost instantly. So in an industry where the dreaded scourge is a late book, mine is a month and a half early.
Another thing about indie publishing: there's no fanfare about launching, unless you create it. So if you see this cover over and over, I'm sorry. I just want everyone who might be interested to know it's out there. I'll be posting excerpts and snippets of reviews--all good so far.
This is probably the first mystery I ever wrote (if you don't count Nancy Drew knock-offs years ago)--though it's been through countless versions. I wrote it ten to twelve years ago and placed it with an agent who got disinterested replies at best. In retrospect, she was the wrong agent. She wanted me to write romance, which I didn't feel any affinity for, and her main area of expertise was textbooks. Eventually either I took it back or she gave it back--anyway we both gave up.
I joined Sisters in Crime and Guppies and learned more than I can ever tell about the world of writing and publishing mysteries. And I published seven--five in the Kelly O'Connell series, with one more to come, and two in the Blue Plate Café series. But every so often I went back and rewrote The Perfect Coed, and I followed my instincts. I thought it was good; I ignored my mentor's advice to take out two of my favorite characters, who have since been praised in one review. I kept at it. Perseverance, they tell me, is the key to publishing.
I am eternally grateful to Turquoise Morning Press for getting me into the world of mysteries, but when they announced they would henceforth only publish romance, it solved a dilemma for me. I didn't want to go with another small press--I'd learned some lessons there--and I surely didn't want to compete for a slot in the competitive world of New York houses. I don't need that kind of pressure to produce in retirement. Sure, I like my books to make money but I also like to enjoy my life and don't want to feel driven. So indie publishing was my answer. And after considering all the pros and cons and opinions, I chose to go exclusively with Amazon--at least at first.
So there it is folks--my big project is out there for you to judge if you want to. If you're in Fort
Worth, watch for a launch party at the Old Neighborhood Grill sometimes soon. Believe me, I'll give plenty of notice--and maybe come up with some giveaways and prizes and fun things.
Happy reading!

Sleuthing in a canoe and on a motorcycle



Please welcome my Wednesday guest, Lesley Diehl. Lesley retired from her life as a professor of psychology and reclaimed her country roots by moving to a small cottage in the Butternut River Valley in upstate New York. In the winter she migrates to old Florida—cowboys, scrub palmetto, and open fields of grazing cattle, a place where spurs still jingle in the post office and gators make golf a contact sport. Back north, the shy ghost inhabiting the cottage serves as her literary muse. When not writing, she gardens, cooks and renovates the 1874 cottage with the help of her husband, two cats and, of course, Fred the ghost, who gives artistic direction to their work. She is author of several short stories and a number of mystery series including the microbrewing series (A Deadly Draught; Poisoned Pairings), a rural Florida mystery series (Dumpster Dying; Grilled, Chilled and Killed), A Secondhand Murder, the first in The Eve Appel mystery series and her most recent, Murder Is Academic. Please welcome Lesley as she tells us about her newest book.

 

****

In keeping with the snooping amateur sleuths who populate my cozy mysteries, I’ve got a new woman who joins their ranks. In Murder Is Academic the setting is a small town in upstate New York, and the protagonist is Laura Murphy, psychology professor at the local college, a woman addicted to chocolate-covered donuts and something unexpected: solving murders. Don’t be fooled by her credentials. Despite all those degrees, she’s arrived at that point in her life when everything seems to be falling into place including her middle-aged body, sagging in ways she never anticipated when she was younger. What to do? The weather is fine, so Laura and Annie, her best friend decide that entering a fifty-mile canoe race might just be the thing for losing weight. The results are different from what they expected. Not only has Laura done little exercise other than lift her coffee cup to her lips, she’s not prepared for what she encounters on the water: the dead body of the college president. When she says yes to dinner with a Canadian biker, she finds herself and her date suspects in the murder.

Laura’s friend, the detective assigned the case, asks her to help him find out who on the small upstate New York college campus may be a killer. The murder appears to be wrapped up in some unsavory happenings on the lake where Laura lives. A fish kill and raw sewage seeping into the water along with the apparent drowning suicide of a faculty member complicate the hunt for the killer. So you see, college life for our professor is much more than grading exams, writing research papers of serious intellectual import, and swearing at her computer when something goes wrong on the internet. Yup, there’s this hunky biker dude and the possibility that she can outwit her detective friend in finding the killer. There is a downside to the joys of finding love later in life and chasing down clues to the murder, both slimming activities with fewer muscle aches than canoeing. Things can get personal, and they do. The killer makes a threatening phone call to Laura. With a tornado bearing down on the area and the killer intent upon silencing her, Laura’s sleuthing work may come too late to save her and her biker from a watery grave.

As you can guess, everything turns out well for Laura. Sleuthing replaces eating donuts, and riding on the back of a motorcycle results in much more than messed up hair. Another sassy gal takes on murder, gets thinner and falls in love. Laura Murphy defeats hot flashes and killers. There will be a sequel: Failure Is Fatal, in which Laura tackles bad frat boys.

Website: www.lesleyadiehl.com

Buy link: http://store.untreedreads.com/Books/UTR9781611879414 in all eformats

Amazon buy link http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JCV6XG8

 

 

 

 

 

A guest...and a new book

Please welcome Joyce LaVene, my Wednesday Guest. She and her husband, Jim Lavene, write award-winning, bestselling mystery fiction as themselves, J.J. Cook, and Ellie Grant. They have written and published more than 70 novels for Harlequin, Berkley, Amazon, and Gallery Books along with hundreds of non-fiction articles for national and regional publications. They live in rural North Carolina with their family. Visit them at www.joyceandjimlavene.com  and www.jjcook.net

****

A new book is like a new baby. Everyone fawns over it, and fusses about it. If you’re lucky—there is more cooing than mudslinging at the parents. Its arrival is always exciting, full of promise and wonder. You can’t feel the birth pains anymore because you’re too overwhelmed by the glory of having done it. The end result is pretty much the only thing that gets most authors through the process.

Not surprisingly, since I’m here today, I have a new baby/book that came out at the beginning of January. The title is Playing with Fire. It’s the second book in the Sweet Pepper Fire Brigade Mysteries.

The protagonist is a little different than most cozy mystery readers are used to. Stella Griffin is a ten-year veteran firefighter from Chicago who comes to the small town of Sweet Pepper, Tennessee to jumpstart their new volunteer fire brigade. She’s strong, professional, and able to lead her small band of men and women in and out of danger. She doesn’t plan to stay after the fire brigade is up and running.

Then she meets Eric.

Eric Gamlyn is the former Sweet Pepper fire chief. He was killed in a fire forty years ago and ended up back at the log cabin he built. He’s been there ever since. His main source of enjoyment has been frightening away people who want to live in his cabin, and watching the Little Pigeon River run by his deck. When Stella shows up, the situation changes. He wants her to stay in Sweet Pepper and rebuild his fire brigade.

And he finds out that he didn’t really die in the silo fire he thought had claimed his life. His bones were found in the walls of the firehouse he’d built, along with his badge and his uniform.

Stella and Eric met for the first time in That Old Flame of Mine, book one in the series. Hero’s Journey is a novella between the two books that tells the story of the fire brigade’s mascot, a Dalmatian named Hero. He’s training to be a rescue dog so he can work with the team.

In Playing with Fire, Stella has to make a decision about staying in Sweet Pepper or going home to Chicago. Her job there won’t be on hold forever. Her parents come to Sweet Pepper to convince her that she shouldn’t stay. But Stella is determined to figure out what really happened to Eric, no matter what it takes. She’s also more than halfway in love with the small mountain town. It’s not an easy decision. She knows she’ll never be fire chief at home, another factor that weighs in Sweet Pepper’s favor.

And there’s the Pepper Festival. It’s the town’s yearly celebration of all things pepper. Sweet Pepper gets its name from growing, packaging, and selling the hottest, sweetest peppers in the world. The festival is three days of pepper-eating contests, pepper-recipe contests, pepper hats, and pepper games.

A lot of research went into creating Sweet Pepper, which is close to the Smoky Mountains National

Park, Pigeon Forge, and Sevierville. Even more research went into what it would take to set up a small volunteer group. Writing about fighting fires was easier. There are firefighters in my family, both volunteers, and professionals in Chicago. Creating the volunteer firefighters, who race into fires and learn as they go, was fun and exhausting at times.

A third book will be out in 2015, In Hot Water, which continues the story of Eric, Stella, Hero, and all the others. A new book is only as exciting as the feelings and characters we create for it. This story has been a wild ride. I want to thank all of the readers who have written such nice letters and reviews. It’s only because of you that the story goes on.

Thanks for reading!

 

 

A new deck and a busy day

They started framing the new deck on the back of my house today. As  you can see, Sophie likes it. It will be 10x12, just right for a table and six chairs and lots of plants. This picture was taken about six, so you can see that on many nights it will be plenty shady for cocktails and supper. Tonight of course was just too blamed hot, but a late night glass of wine out there would be pleasant. Meantime I'm forbidden to go out there--everyone is sure I'll fall over the framing. Susan and Jay went out there with no problem tonight, and I'm sure I could--but how embarrassing to prove them right. Besides, I have no reason to go right now. The Bundocks, Lewis and Jim, only work on it mornings--today was the first day--because the afternoons are too hot.
I'm enjoying my new routine of getting up at 6:30 and doing my yoga, though I tell myself if one morning I don't want to leave my bed that early, I don't have to. This week I'm delivering Jacob to Vacation Bible School at nine in the morning and picking him up at noon. Today by the time I took him to the church, I had done my yoga, watered the porch plants, started two loads of laundry, read my email and Facebook, and made ham salad for my lunch! Still, I didn't settle down to serious work as early as I hoped.
Started a new, as yet untitled novel today, the next in the Kelly O'Connell series, and got a good 800 words done. Still hope to do 200 more tonight to reach my daily goal of 1,000--last time I did that, I felt the novel flowed more smoothly and went faster.  I see days looming when I won't do that much, but I can also see some when I'll do more.
Tonight I hosted an impromptu happy hour. Since our former neighbor, Sue, was coming over at six, I invited Jay and Susan. We had a good visit, but no Sue, so they went home; two minutes later, Sue arrived, so I had a second happy hour. We too had a good visit but I was sorry they had all missed each other. I had my supper all ready to heat and did so about eight--stuffed zucchini and corn on the cob. Delicious.
Now, on to that last 200 words!

Current events--state, national and personal

I am much less upset about domestic spying than I am by the law the Texas legislature is trying to pass, dooming many women to back-alley, coat-hanger abortions and depriving poor women of affordable, available medical care. One person on Facebook suggested they don't care about individual women, they just want to please their base. I can't figure out what base the Republicans have left since they've alienated Hispanics, black Americans, women, and most thinking people. Who's left? Old, angry white men. Enough to vote them back into office and to re-elect Governor Perry, who supposedly called this special session over--what was it? taxes? budget?--Whatever it was, it got dumped and the session has been devoted to abortion legislation. And now Perry's talking about another special session--which will cost taxpayers tons of money--did I read #30,000/day. Our fiscally conservative governor. I love Texas, but too often I'm ashamed to live here.
On to the matter of domestic spying, which doesn't particularly upset me. Wasn't the program started under President Bush? Why were there no outcries then? Because no Snowden came forward? Since there's been testimony that some 50 terrorist attacks have been averted, I think it's well worth keeping. If you're trying that hard to hide something, it's probably something you shouldn't be doing. I don't think whoever's doing the wire-tapping, etc., pays much attention o us ordinary citizens.
As for the Snowden person, I think he's getting far too much more attention (and sympathy in some quarters) than he deserves: if he had a security clearance, I would presume he took an oath not to reveal what he knew. He violated that and caused his country all kinds of trouble-is that really patriotism. Besides, his background doesn't exactly support him with credibility. But that's all another matter.
Though I did have an eye-opening encounter with the FBI today. I got an email on a writers listserv that pointed out that bookos.org was posting pirated books. I've asked them to cease and desist before and they've done so, but I checked today and several of my titles were listed, including Mattie, which is my bestseller on Amazon. So the os in their name, which undoubtedly means out of stock, is not true. The email alert gave instructions for reporting them to the FBI, with the caveat that the FBI gets a gazillion tips a day but if enough of us complain, they might do something. So I clicked on the FBI tip site, filled out my name, and lo and behold! the site automatically filled in all my other information. Now I realize that may be a computer function, but it was, as I said, eye-opening to even think the FBI had it that accessible.
Two cooking magazines arrived in the mail today, but I resisted and finished reading galleys on my next Kelly O'Connell Mystery. Danger Comes Home will launch as an e-book the week of July 22--a nice birthday present for me--with print to follow. So now I've read galleys, typed the list of my corrections, and sent it to the editor. I can have the guilty pleasure of reading recipes the rest of the evening.