Book covers--my horror story and some good news

There's been a lot of discussion recently on Sisters in Crime about how much input an author has on cover design--or, more precisely, how much he or she doesn't have. I have loved all my covers from Turquoise Morning Press--three in the Kelly O'Connell series and the first Blue Plate Café Mystery.
But I do have horror stories. The worst was the cover on my 1994 novel based on the life of Elizabeth Bacon Custer, wife of George Armstrong Custer of Little Big Horn infamy. Libbie was a good-looking woman for her day (1850s-1860s) but never as sultry as the woman pictured above who, as one friend told me, looks like Madonna in nineteenth-century dress. She stands knee-deep in a lush field of prairie grass--Kansas, perhaps--next to a barbed wire fence. If you're a history student you spot the problem right away. Barbed wire was first demonstrated at the Menger Hotel in San Antonio in 1876; Custer died at Little Big Horn in 1876. No way was Kansas fenced before Libbie left the West and went east to build her husband's reputation as a martyr hero.
Besides, this is the ubiquitous West. If you have Kansas in the foreground, you have Arizona in the background--bare red earth. Trouble is though, there's a stockade fence. Forts in the West notably did not have any kind of barrier around them--Libbie wrote in one of her books how alarmed she was to realize the fort they were sent to was merely a collection of buildings with no perimeter fortification. If there had been a barricade it certainly wouldn't have been the sturdy log fortress pictured. There weren't enough tall, thick tree in the entire West to do that.
Libbie was my first book to be published by Bantam and only my second from a New York major house. I felt like a newcomer and, yes, I was cowed, so I said nothing. By the time I decided to say something, it was too late--publicity was done and production had been started. I guess it wasn't serious because the book sold well. (Can't resist a plug--it's now available, with a more suitable cover, in the Real Women of the American West series as an e-book only).

Two books later, I complained again to Bantam and got results. The first cover picture they sent for Cherokee Rose (based on the life of the first Wild West Show trick-roping cowgirl, Lucille Mulhall) showed a sultry cowgirl (again more sultry than Lucille ever thought about being) with a horse's head over her shoulder. The trouble was the horse had no body--it was, as it were, disembodied--only a head. I mentioned this problem and the horse disappeared.

My current publisher, Turquoise Morning Press, made it clear, by contract, from the beginning: the publisher has final say over the cover, though the author may have some input. It's worked well so far. The first cover she sent for Skeleton in a Dead Space had a full, stark white skeleton against a black background with bright touches of red--wait, this is a cozy and that didn't fit the mood of the book at all.

 

I wrote and said so and the publisher agreed. She herself came up with the cover that I still think is terrific.

 

But it's true--it's the lucky author that gets any meaningful input, and I feel lucky. 

Bad Book Covers

I read a blog about bad book covers this morning and it occurred to me that I had a "Can  you top this" story for historical inaccuracy. The above is the cover of the 1994 edition of my historical novel, Libbie, based onb the life of Elizabeth Bacon Custer, wife of George Armstrong Custer. As a book designer friend of mine commented, Libbie looks like Madonna in nineteenth-century garb. She's stand knee deep in the grassy plains of Kansas; in the background is the bare, red earth of Arizona. Libbie stands next to a barbed wire fence--barbed wire was first introduced at the Menger Hotel in 1884, and Custer died in 1886. There is no way the plains of Kansas were fenced when Libbie wass there. And finally, there's the fort--a stockade, such as they built a century earlier in the East to fight off Mohicans and other eastern Native Americans. there was not enough wood in the American West to build such a sturdy stockade. In the book, Libbie makes a big point of being surprised that forts of the West had no fences nor barricades. They consisted of clusters of buildings set close together on the prairie or wherever. It is, as another friend said, "the ubiquitous West" with all the western symbols the artist could think of thrown in. I do have to say this book sold more than any other I've ever written, which says something about the lure of romance and the dimissal of history by most readers.

Today, Libbie has a much more appropriate cover, if not as eye-catching. It is available through ePubWorks on a variety of digital platforms. The costume is much more like waht Libbie would have worn--she sewed fishing weights in the hem of skirts to keep the prairie wind from blowing them up around her. And there are lots of pictures of Libbie living out of a tent.
She's a favorite of mine for what she put up with in that wild and crazy husband, and I'm glad to see her story available again.
Let me hasten to add that I love the covers on the Kelly O'Connell Mysteries that Turquoise Morning Press has done for me, and I'm expecting compliments on the cover to Murder at the Blue Plate Cafe when it appears next week.

Are short story collections dead?

During the last ten years or so that I was director of TCU Press, we routinely rejected short story collections, usually without reading them. The policy was based on bitter experience--we had published collections by well-known Texas authors, stories that I really thought were high quality. And we inevitably lost money on them. In this day of POD and  e-books, they may be more profitable, but I came away with the impression that readers don't want short stories. They want to immerse themselves in the world of a novel. Short stories were saved for literary journals and the occasional commercial magazine that publishes them. Remember when POST published all those stories by authors either already famous or soon to be? Those days too seem gone (oops, just dated myself--I mean I've read about the history of that magazine).
In the past I was asked to contribute to several themed anthologies of stories, the most difficult among them the time I had to write about some sort of firearm--I required a tutorial from my longtime friend and mentor, Fred, and if I remember correctly I wrote about a derringer--and a young girl out for revenge. "Pegeen's Revenge" was one of my favorite stories.
Today my publisher, Turquoise Morning Press, publishes themed anthologies of romance short stories. Recent titles inlude Men in Uniform, Foreign Affairs, and Be Mine, Valentine. They must be successful or TMP wouldn't continue to publish them.
I have one collection of fourteen stories in print. Sue Ellen Learns to Dance is filled with stories about what was once my focus--the lives and loves of women of the American West, both historical and contemporary. Originally published by Panther Creek Press (thank you, Guida Jackson), it got some nice blurbs and reviews but it never sold much. When I asked for permission to post it as an e-book, Guida gave me her blessing, and up it went on Kindle and Smashwords. Recently, a couple of fellow members of Sisters in Crime/Guppies have discovered the title and said some quite nice things about it but mostly it languishes.
I have two books posted myself on those platforms. One, Mattie, sells quite well. The short story collection simply doesn't sell. I know a redesigned cover would help--the current one has too academic a look, so a friend who owns a gift shop tells me. It didn't sell for her. You can comment on the cover as seen above. The photograph, which is eloquently poignant and sad, is by Dorothea Lange and was my personal pick. But at this point, I'm reluctant to put more money into redesigning the cover. Then again, maybe I didn't market it enough, put enough oomph into it (yes, this blog post is an effort to remedy that).
I don't know the answer to Sue Ellen's status, but I'm curious: do you read short stories? Collections of them? Don't get me started on poetry collections...but then, I've never written a single poem.

A banner day, some dumb mishaps, and a minor family tragedy

If you follow me on Facebook, you already know my big news! Trouble in a Big Box, my third Kelly O'Connell Mystery, went live today on Kindle, Nook, and various other digital platforms. I'm really excited and hope when you read it you can't tell that three-fourths through the manuscript, I was still wondering who done it. And then it all fell into place--I'm pleased with the result (is that too much self confidence?). I had to argue with my editor over the title--although my publisher is in Kentucky, my editor is in Wales and she didn't know the term "big box." (For some reason I have a hard time typing that--it comes out Bix Box every time!) She thought Kelly was going to come home and find a big box of some kind at her doorstep. I assured her people in this country would know it refers to a Big Box store moving into Kelly's beloved Fairmount neighborhood. Shortly after I wrote this, fiction became truth when a WalMart moved into a residential neighborhood adjacent to Fairmount--over neighborhood objections.
I laugh when I remember a few years ago I thought if I could just get one mystery in print, I'd be happy--now I have three, with two more scheduled.
The print copy of this one will be available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Turquoise Morning Press in about three weeks, and I can't wait to hold it in my hand.
Maybe I was giddy with excitement, but I sure have done a couple of dumb things lately. Yesterday I could NOT find the remote to the kitchen TV. I looked in cupboards, drawers, the bowl of onions and fruit I keep on the counter--nada. Found it in my purse. This sent Jacob--and his parents--into hysterics. He wanted to know what would have happened if I put it in the refrigerator. Then today I cooked some plums for a yummy salad dressing. Directions were to drain the cooking liquid into a bowl, then mash as much of the solids as possible through a sieve. Somehow I lifted up the sieve, drained the liquid through it--without the bowl under it. Plum juice everywhere. I captured as much as I could, mushed up the solids and put the whole thing in the dressing. Hope my lunch guests tomorrow don't mind a bit of peel. It's also all over my T-shirt, but my mom taught me to remove fruit stains--pour boiling water through them. It works every time!
I did have a bit of good fortune today when I went to pick up some pants left at the cleaners for alteration. They weren't ready but they handed me two shirts--I've been missing one of them over a year--and it was a favorite!
Our minor family tragedy: My grandchildren all went to the Midway at the Stock Show and Rodeo in January 2011. One of the games rewarded kids with their own goldfish--and the man must have wanted to get rid of the fish, because each of my seven went home with a fish. Most (fish, not grandchildren) died almost immediately, but Jacob's lived on. He called it Fishy Cory (or Cory Fishy, not sure). Cory died today. RIP. I must say Jacob's aunts and uncles have been less than sympathetic, texting outrageous messages, promising to get him a ferret, even suggesting that the grandmother might like to have the ferret--no thank you! Jordan tells me that Jacob is sad. When she and Christian went to Mexico earlier this month, I was responsible for feeding Fishy twice--and I lived in terror I'd find him belly up. I'm sorry he died, but relieved he didn't die on my watch.

This business of writing

Don't know that I have my thoughts organized on this, but I've been thinking about it for quite some time. I follow several writers' listservs. A theme on many is that you have to treat your writing as a business. Yet, I'm amazed at some writers, particularly those who manage their on backlist as ebooks and those who publish independently. Amazed, awed, but stymied. They track sales daily, they compare their sales to comparable books, they experiment with different digital prices--free, ninety-nine cents, when to raise, when to lower. Many of them are constantly at war with diffrent e-platforms, though most often Amazon, and they agonize over writing letters of complaint, getting action in lowering, raising prices, whatever they want. Writing is indeed a business, and they micromanage it--but when do they have time to write?
A big controversy wages these days over the Kindle Select program, whereby an author can agree to post a new book digitally only on Kindle for 90 days; in return you get five days in which you can give the book away free. Some give close to 20,000--sorry but it hurts my Scottish soul to give all that away. On the other hand, give-aways boost your ranking on Amazon (something I don't pay attention to, unfortunately), and many authors report a boost in sales of all their books after the free promotion. There's also something about certain high-level Kindle patrons can "borrow" books and the author gets a small payment. I don't understand this, and from what I read it doesn't end up profiting the author. Some authors praise the KDP Select program to the high heavens, but lately more are bitterly complaining.
My new novel, No Neighborhood for Old Women, comes out as an e-book April 8, and I had at first thought to rush headlong into the Select program but now I'm undecided. My publisher, wisely, leaves the decision up to me. If whatever decision goes amuck, I have no one to blame but myself.
I appreciated a post today where the author said she isn't really very good at marketing, and she wants to stay home and write. That's one big reason I sought out a small press--and let me tell you again how happy I am with Turquoise Morning--and another reason that I am having ePub scan, prepare and post two of my older titles--Libbie and Sundance, Butch, and Me. For a small percent of royalties they will handle the business details. I can move ahead with my writing.
I do have one free short story, a short story collection, and an award-winning novel up on various platforms as e-publications that I manage. But I'm lazy or lackadaisacal about it. I don't check in on them very often. Today when I did, I was surprised to find that one platform told me I had only two items; logged in again, changed whatever, and found all three. But another time when I logged in, I found only one--Skeleton in a Dead Space. Eventually I discovered that I have two sites on Smashwords (an umbrella posting service that posts books to a variety of platforms except Kindle)--one for me, one for Turquoise Morning. That seems self-defeating--I want readers to be able to find all my books with one click. The TMP publisher is going to see about merging them, and then I'll have to deal with getting the ePub books merged into the site also.
What happened to the good old days when you wrote a book, sent it to an agent or a publisher, and went on to the next book? I recognize that in many ways a bright new world is dawning for writers with the rising acceptance of self-publishing and the growth of e-books, but the business end baffles me. I also recognize that as a retiree who appreciates the extra income but is not dependent on it, I'm in a fortunate position. But I retired because I managed a publishing business and was tired, tired, tired of spread sheets, unit costs, profit margins, and all that. I retired so I could write--and so far, it's working well. One book in 2011, two in 2012, and two scheduled for 2013. Give me publishers any day.

How Did I Get Here, Part 2

My talented, beautiful and intelligent daughter-n-law, Melanie (I have two daughters-in-law who fit that description, so I have to specify) wrote that she gave up two things she loved to do--writing and ballet--because she couldn't make a living at either.http://raggedymadness.com/2012/02/24/lean-in/  Young, I had no such practical ideas. In college, I majored in English because I liked to read. A career? Pouf! I was a daughter of the fifties. Some man was going to marry me and take care of me, presumably while I read Silver Screen and ate bonbons. Soon I found myself with a Ph.D. in English and no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Oh, there was a man to take care of me, but that went awry after nearly twenty years.
I had always written, starting with short stories as a ten-year-old and progressing to stories of teen-age angst that Seventeen, that bible of young girls, rejected without hesitation. I found myself doing pr and editing a medical journal and an alumni newspaper--paste-up and all in the old days, though I'd had no journalism training. Once I had that Ph.D. and children and was a stay-at-home wife and mom, with a nanny thank-you-very-much, I settled down to write. There were literally days when I thought I'd write if I only knew what to write. Unlike some senior citizens who become successful authors almost by accident (See Radine Nehring's excellent post on the subject at http://madisonjohns11.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/im-a-late-bloomer-radine-trees-nehring/), I was always dead set on a career. I had banished that girl who wanted to read and eat bonbons.
Flash forward forty years. No blatant self promotion, but I have over sixty published books--fiction for adults, fiction for young adults, a lot of nonfiction for young readers, some miscellaneous titles such as a literary biography and a cookbook, and now mysteries. I also have some rather nice awards, including a Lifetime Achievement Award from Western Writers of America. I'm neither rich nor famous, but it's a respectable record for a writer. Still it was never enough. I wanted more. Once a woman who was my sister in spirit suggested I'd had as much success as I could expect and I ought to quit worrying about it--she was always forthright. But that wasn't my way.
I had as many rejections as acceptances--or more--over the years, and I have every author's stack of rejected manuscripts that will never go anywhere except to my archive at the Southwest Writers Collection at Texas State University-San Marcos. Bantam/Doubleday stayed with me for much of 1990s. amd several childrens' publishers and book packagers were steady clients in the late '90s and early in 2000 until the market changed, so they said. I never had a secure long-term publishing home with enough faith in me to work out a career plan.. 
Today my mystery career is off to a great start--the first Kelly O'Connell Mystery published, another due in April, another in August, the start of a second series in January, and a fourth as-yet unwritten and unscheduled Kelly O'Connell Mystery due in 2013. There's a lingering question in my mind about why I had to be in my seventies for this sudden roll I'm on, just as I wonder why I wasn't at thirty the woman I am now. My brother says he sees it as me re-inventing myself once again, which he believes I've done a few times before. He wanted credit for that statement, and I am glad to give it because I take it as a compliment. I think the capacity to re-invent yourself, if that's what I've done, comes with age and perhaps as a close friend suggested grace.
My new blooming career is thanks to Turquoise Morning Press. I'm a big believer in the small press movement that, along with self-publishing digitally, is changing the publishing world forever. But I doubt I would have been swept up in this movement thirty years ago. I wasn't ready, and neither was my writing. Almost certainly, retirement had something to do with this, freeing me to focus on my writing and also freeing me of a lot of stress. I'm also a fan of retirement, although all those years I would have told you I had the ideal job as director of a small academic press. And what I learned all those years on the "other side" of publishing stands me in good stead. Yet I'm a poster child for retirement, and a fan, if somewhat reluctantly, of aging. Just joined a Facebook page called Spunky Seniors--you gotta love it.

Book Clubs Book Buzzed and some pictures

Here's the Halloween mask I didn't wear last night--susan made it and I think it's wonderfully clever. Note the blonde hair--but I do not have a moustache.

And here's how Sophie and Jacob spend their afternoons. A love affair for sure.
Years ago my friend Jane Roberts Wood had a novel, Train to Estelline, published by a small Texas press (run by friends of mine). The book took off and landed Jane contracts for future books with big national publishers--but I've always thought the reason was that Jane spoke to every book club in the Dallas area that she could find. If  you haven't read that novel, you should. It's available from UNT Press these days and is a classic of West Texas lit.
I've been following Jane's example and spoken to or booked as many clubs and groups as I can. I've spoken to a group at TCU where I sold nine books, a neighborhood group where I sold five or six, and tonight a group in the Fairmount neighborhood, setting of Skeleton in a Dead Space, where I chatted informally with five people and sold one book. They asked if I'd come back for the second book if they promised to have more people, and I assured them I'd not only come back, I'd remind them when it came out. It's not how many books you sell at any one of these meetings--it's the people you meet and get to know. If they like you and your book, they spread the word, and the grapevine grows. Marketing at its most basic level.
One of the women tonight said to me, "I love to get so involved in a book that I can't bear for it to end," and that's something for all authors to remember: create a world in your book that makes the reader want to stay in it. That's a big reason I write cozies--people like the cozy world with its absence of overt sex and violence.
A new website called bookbuzzed launched today (http://t.co/p8HRjoKm) and I was delighted to be the inaugural featured author, thanks to an arrangement made by my wonderful publisher, Turquoise Morning Press. The site urges people to publicize by tweeting on Twitter, and my fellow TMP authors were great about tweeting and retweeting. Bookbuzzed also gives away a free book and sends questions to the author throughout the day--what are you reading now? what's your favorite book? career if you weren't writing? dream vacation? character you most relate to in  your book? These questions are important, just like the book groups above, because they give readers a sense of you as a person, hopefully someone they like. That makes them want to read  your book.
So it's been quite a good book day and I wrote 1500 words on the third novel. Moving right along and feeling good about it.

On Learning to Write

This isn't BSP (blatant self promotion)--it's relative to the point I want to make, which is I apprently don't know how to write yet. I have been a published author for over 30 years, with 60 or more books to my credit if you count all those children's nonfiction books I did on assigment. But I've published fiction and nonfiction for adults and young readers, even a cookbook.
Now I'm writing mysteries (I have mentioned the forthcoming Skeleton in a Dead Space, havene't I? yes, I think so:-) I am doing the final edits on my second mystery manuscript, and the publisher's instructions are to search for those pesky adverbs by looking for words ending in "ly." I did and it was a humbling experience. I found I overuse the word "really" to an unbelievable extent, and "only" isn't far behind. Reconstructing sentences without those words was a challenge but fun. Then I moved on to the next search--for the word "had" to find passive voice. I could not believe the number of times "had been" appeared in the manuscript. I still have "was" and "ing" words to go. So far it's a humbling experience, which leaves me wondering if all my previous books are filled with those grammatical errors. I'm afraid to look.
I do have to say that looking searcing for these things is a long and boring process, so much so that sometimes my mind goes blank. But I'm persevering. When I finish, I still have to read the manuscript yet one more time to make sure I haven't introduced new errors in the process of correcting old ones. By the time I'm through, I'll be able to recite the darn thing from memory.
But the whole exercise is one of the best I've ever heard of for checking your manuscript. Thanks to Kim at Turquoise Morning Press for coming up with it.
The manuscript hasn't actually been accepted yet, but I have a proposal in and am quite hopeful. Keep your fingers crossed for me. The title of this one is for now No Neighborhood for Old Women. Yes, that's a spoof on Cormac McCarthy. When I began writing the manuscript, he had just turned down my good friend Marcia Daudistel on her request for an excerpt of his writing to include in an Literary El Paso, an anthology of the work of El Paso authors. I came up with the title off the top of my head, and she hooted with delight. More than that about the book, it's too soon to say. If it's accepted, I may have to change the title.
A food note: I know, I have a food blog but I can't resist sharing my menu tonight: a ground lamb patty with feta and chopped mint in it from Central Market (actually I ate about a third of the huge pattie) and fresh corn, cut off the cob after I boiled it, and mixed with salt and a bit of chiffonade of basil--no butter. So good!

Woohoo! A new cover

Here it is, the long-awaited cover to my forthcoming mystery. Guess I don't need to tell you the title, because there it is in big bold print. The publisher, Kim Jacobs of Turquoise Morning Press, was kind enough to consult me all along the way--neither of us liked the first mockup, apparently done by a designer. As Melinda at TCU Press said, it looked like it was a vampire story.  In this the final version, I'm a bit undertain about a skull (but then I'm the one who thought up a skeleton and suggested it for the cover art)--told Kim I think it's the teeth that bother me. LOL. But it is really appropriate to the book which, in spite of the title and skull, is a cozy mystery--amateur sleuth, no onstage violence, no lust--okay a sprinkling of longing. Anyway, I'm excited to have the cover because now I can build a new website and do all sorts of stuff to tell the mystery-reading world about my book. Launch date is August 29, presumably for e-book with print copy to follow in a week or so. If you're in Fort Worth, watch for a launch party at the Old Neighborhood Grill. When Peter suggested it, I said, "Perfect, because the Grill is mentioned in t he book several times."
I also did a guest blog today at Buried Under Books (http://www.cncbooks.com/blog/2011/06/14/searaching-for-ancestors-and-finding-stories/comment-page-1/#comment-73274). More of my Scottish adventures and a bit of family history, but it received lots of warm and favorable comments. All this re-living the trip online is making me ready to go back. Next week there'll be a guest blog on Scottish food--I loved it.
Meantime my own food blog is getting good reaction and response. Lots of people like it and I've had a couple of mentions of guest blogs. So I'm feeling pretty good about my "new" or "reborn" writing career. Retiring may be the best thing I ever did, much as I loved my work at TCU Press.
 Watch for another Potluck installment tomorrow, probably on tuna.  Did I hear a groan?

The fellowship of mystery writers

I've wanted to write mysteries for years, but I felt the way I did before I ever wrote fiction: mysteries were over there, on a different shelf, and I couldn't do them. I made a couple of failed attempts--actually I still think one is pretty good. But I knew I was wandering in the wilderness of my own ignorance. One day Susan Wittig Albert, author of the China Bayles herbalist mysteries and much more, came to talk at TCU. I think we'd crossed paths or were vaguely acquainted, but I was so bold as to ask her advice and she said one meaningful thing to me, "Join Sisters in Crime." I did, and I've been everlastingly grateful ever since. Once I became a member, I soon joined several sub-groups: Agent Quest, for those who were looking for agents; Guppies, the great pond of unpublished writers who are going to be published--many stay in the group after publication because of its warm camaraderie; Senior Sleuths, for those who write about older than average protagonists, something I thought about for a long time; and SmallPressQuest for those who want to abandon the search for an agent and try publishing with small presses.
I cannot begin to tell you all I've learned in the three or four years since, but the biggest thing is that it's not a cut-throat world out there. Mystery writers are in competition to a certain extent, sure, but they are so supportive of each other. They rejoice in triumphs, be they an agency contract, a publishing contract, a good review, or an important blurb. They get out the boas, start kick lines, and throw cyber-champagne parties. And they share a wealth of knowledge about seeking agents, deciding which agent is for you (it takes guts to say no but sometimes it's the best thing to do), the advantages and disadvantages of small press publication, general news of the publishing industry, and sometimes personal triumphs and tragedies. We all literally become sisters. I realize in retrospect what a naif I was in that wilderness of ignorance. I had, for instance, no idea that it was so hard to get an agent, yet now I know of people who've queried 200 or more agents; I've learned about protecting your e-rights and watching royalties paid on e-books as opposed to print (e-books should pay much more).
I've learned a lot about the use of social media--most writers but not all blog; most but not all use Facebook; there's division on the usefullness of Twitter though some swear by it. And I've found sites like Goodreads, Linked In, and too many others to mention. I've learned about retweeting for other authors and adding tags to books on Amazon and checking sales numbers on Amazon and other sites.
The problem with all this, of course, is that it's time-consuming. You eventually get to the point you have to decide which things you're going to do and which you aren't. I get upwards of 200 e-mails a day (I did join Murder Must Advertise and a couple other lists) and I look at each post, no matter how briefly. At this point I only have reprints on Amazon and Smashwords (that's another whole new topic, but Smashwords publishes e-books for almost every platform there is), so I don't check sales number or rankings compulsively; I'm barely active on Twitter and Goodreads, and I've dropped Linked In. But all that networking allows you to make decisions that you think are right for you.
After probably not enough agent queries and negative experiences with a press that kept my manuscript as an exclusive for a year (SinC will tell you that's a no-no) and with an agent who did the same thing, I have signed with Turquoise Morning Press, a small press where the vibes feel right. Probably not as businesslike as many of my sisters in mystery would be but it works for me. I tend to act on impulse (right brain, not left) but I think this will work out just fine. The main thing for me is I don't want the "business" or "busyness" of being a mystery writer to get in the way of writing and the fun of it.
But I have indeed plunged into a whole new world, one I suspect most readers don't dream exists, and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

It is as it is

To my great surprise, the Cowtown Marathon came right by my front door this morning. In fact, the halfway mark was about two houses down the block. I sat out on the front porch, still grimy with winter dirt, for almost an hour, drinking coffee and watching. Every runner checked his or her watch in passing that halfway point. Across the street several people gathered to clap for each runner, my neighbors were out on their porch, and someone played wonderful, soft acoustic guitar. Sort of surreal, but also nostalgic for me. It made me miss the days when my children were young and I had such different expectations for my life (not that it hasn't turned out wonderfully). But I said to myself as I went inside to read the paper, "It is as it is."
I learned that phrase from the mattress salesman at Sleep Experts a couple of days ago. He was a born salesman, personable times ten, and I couldn't really tell if he was giving me helpful information or I was being fed a pitch (probably a bit of both). But when he said my new mattress (a Dr. Breuss mattress, aka The Sleep Doctor) was guaranteed for twenty years and would last thirty with maintenace (an expensive waterproof protector that thank goodness is not plastic), I told him I doubted I'd need it in thirty years. He said, "Not to be morbid, but it is as it is." Later when he told me my new mattress would feel different than the ones Jeannie and I had been testing, he said, "Thousands of bodies have lain on our store mattresses. Sounds awful, but it is as it is." (Jeannie, fed up with the sales pitch, had wandered away, and I was impatient for him to just finish the sale.) I can't think of all the things that prompted it, but he said, "It is as it is" at least ten or twelve times before we fled to lunch. I am thinking of adapting it as my new favorite phrase.
I've been formatting my manuscript--talk about tedious. I never ever use Spellcheck, although I do sometimes look at their alternative suggestions. But the specific and helpful formatting instructions from Turquoise Morning Press say to run Spellcheck, and I'm a rule follower. Some of the changes it wanted were outrageous--violated verb-subject agreement, made for awkward sentences, etc. Granted, it caught some extra spaces and a few typos, but mostly it was a waste of time. Then I read that the formatting instructions, which I'd followed, should eliminate any need for the tab key. Checked my mss. and it is full of tabs, so I am having to go through line by line--I got four chapters done today and ran out of patience.
Speaking of rule followers, I called my #2 granddaughter yesterday to wish her happy birthday, and she said she was seven, which I thought was right. But on Facebook I found she really turned eight. Her mom explained that she said seven yesterday morning because she didn't officially turn eight until 3:20 p.m. Talk about a rule follower!
Ran out to Jordan's tonight for a glass of wine with them, a friend who's visiting, and a friend who's staying with them, all people I like a lot. Jacob greeted me with a shout, which gladdened my heart. Sitting on the patio chatting, I really wanted to stay for dinner because I was enjoying the company. But I hate driving home after dark. Daylight savings can't come too quickly for me.

Dogs, cats, and exclamation points

A Scottish Deerhound took Best in Show at the Westminster Dog Show this week, and I was thrilled. These huge gentle dogs  are beautiful in their own way, and this one had a marvelous gait. She reminded me so much of the Irish Wolfhound that we once had that I nearly cried. The breeds are similar in size, though the Deerhound has a more pointed nose and the Wolfhound, a more square one. They are absolute pains as puppies, destroying everything in sight, but they grow into delightful loyal and affectionate dogs. I once tripped over ours--Claudine was her improbable name--and couldn't walk for a week. Claudine, a champion bred to a champion, gave us one litter of puppies, and I vividly remember the "limp" puppy in the litter. I wore him in a pocket on my chest, much as mothers wear their babies today, but every time I put him down for her to nurse, Claudine would hide him beneath a sofa cushion or some other out of the way place. She knew what I didn't want to accept--he wasn't meant to make it. And he didn't. I have a lot of dog tragedies in my history but also some very good memories.
My current dog, Scooby, is calming down a bit now that he's eleven-and-a-half. Five-year-old Morgan went happily out to play with him last weekend--she's grown up with a big dog and wasn't one bit intimidated. Jacob, however, is leery of dogs--I think he needs one. He talks about loving Scooby but offered a chance to pet him, he pulls away--makes Scooby nervous, understandably.
On the other hand, my almost-nineteen-year-old cat is more and more like having an infant in the house. He wants to be fed frequently, on demand. Mostly when I'm home in the daytime I can stand it, but he sometimes gets right in my face on my desk, and that's a bit disconcerting. But the other night I was up at two and four-thirty to feed him--now something's not right about that. I put in my time with night feedings a long time ago! Wywy can, however, be very insistent--he works his paws on my legs so that it feels like I'm getting a message. Might be okay if I weren't sleeping soundly. I'm not sure how to handle this problem. A couple of weeks ago I decided it was easier to feed him and go back  to bed than to try to ignore him. But I'm afraid I set a bad precedent.
Turquoise Morning Press sent me a style guide, and I started making my manuscript conform tonight. As a longtime editor, I know you should rarely if ever use exclamation points--I have taken thousands of them out of other people's manuscripts. So I was astounded at how many I found, most of which could easily be replaced by a period or a comma. I left a few--the older Greek man who keeps exclaiming, "Mother of God!" Now that deserves an exclamation point. I may also have missed a few. Next on my list are checking for parenthetical expressions and passive voice. Then a complete read through, checking overuse of italics, ellipses, numbers.Oh, my. I think I know this book by heart! (exclamation point deliberate).

A gorgeous spring day, tie-dyed clothes, and Cabbage Patch dolls

We simply can't be fooled into thinking spring is here in mid-February, yet today it was sunny, a bit breezy, and in the upper 70s. I clamped a visor cap on my unruly hair, put the top down on the car, and purely enjoyed. Ran errands and then met a friend for lunch at Tres Joses, where they serve the best spinach enchiladas I've ever eaten. One enchilada and a side of refried beans is enough for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed the lunch--and the company.
I continue to be delighted with Turquoise Morning Press. Last night I was deluged with helpful emails--an author info sheet, a cover art and blurb sheet (both of which I had to fill out, which was no big chore), a style guide, an FAQ sheet (most of which was obvious to me, but then I've had along career in pubishing and I'm sure many of their authors haven't), and, most helpful, a spread sheet indicating what Turquoise Morning Press would do in promotion and what I need to do--which means I need to start yesterday.  Still have to clear other projects off my desk. Oh, and I was linked to the authors' listserv and soundly welcomed. A nice feeling, and I look forward to getting to know a new group of authors.
This morning I saw on the TODAY show that tie-dye garments are coming back into style. I always kind of liked them, and the New York Alter Aunt Amy sent a bunch to one of my gandchildren that I thought were delightful. I realized they are now out of style, but I am glad to see them back. Wish I hadn't gotten rid of two of my favorite shirts! The other thing that's coming back: Cabbage Patch dolls! I can't remember which of my girls was crazy about them, but I suspect it was Jordan--Megan was never much of a doll-playing child. This resurgence makes you wish you hadn't given those old dolls to Good Will. They might be worth something today. I'll have to ask my toy manufacturers sales rep son Jamie about them.
Meantime, it's nose to the grindstone, er, computer. I'm reading a book titled The Uses and Abuses of Literature--heavy going but most interesting. The kind of book you concenetrate on a chapter a night and then move on to lighter fare. But I will review it for the Dallas Morning News, and I'm grateful for the assignment. So back to work.

My big news

Today I signed a contract with Turquoise Morning Press. They will publish my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, though I have no pub date yet. Hoping for 2012. Turquoise Morning is a young press, founded by two women who write romances. The list at first was all romance, but they are branching out into mystery, I gather particularly cozy mystery. I think they will publish in trade paperback and e-book formats, and I'm happy with both. In correspondence, the staff has been responsive, friendly, and enthusiastic. I am truly looking forward to the experience of working with them. And of seeing my first mystery in print, although it is far from my first book. I've always been an avid reader of cozy mysteries, and for the last few years I've told myself if others could do it, so could I. But it's been a long and difficult road, with many disappointments along the way. The world of publishing is changing so fast,(especially the focus on the New York "big" pubishers) and though mystery writers aren't quite competetive with each other (we call ourselves sisters, after all), there are a lot of us. It's easy to get lost in the crowd.
Most publishers want a series, usually at least three books, and the second in my series, tentatively titled No Neighborhood for Old Women (with apologies to Cormac McCarthy) is in its second draft, and I have ideas for the third book rattling around in my head.
I'm not sure this feels real yet. You'd have thought this was another snow day--actually it was a beautiful day in the seventies--but I never did venture beyond the house and back yard. I had plenty to do--haven't yet done all of it--and I was content to stay home. Tomorrow I'll get out. But I have serious work to do--the chili book, a review book, and then back to fiction. But my point is I didn't celebrate. I did announce the contract on the listserv of Guppies, a sub-group of Sisters in Crime. After all, I found Turquoise Morning because of an in-depth interview on the listserv of the Guppies sub-group Guppiespressquest, which studies small presses now publishing mysteries. When I announced it, I was deluged with wonderful, warm congratualtions. A lot of Guppies are toasting me tonight with their Valentine wine and chocolate. They are the ones who truly understand what a big thing this is. It also means lots of work--writing, promotion, etc. But it's what I retired to do--and I'm happy. And lest they feel slighted--I have to say my family is full of praise and excited about this. I think Thursday Betty and I are going to a posh restaurant, so that will be my celebration (I have a coupon:-).
Five stars to Lorraine Bartlett's A Crafty Killing, a cozy set in an artists' mall. I love the concept of a huge building, like an antique mall, devoted to artists' work. The building is in Victoria Square (in a fictional town near Rochester--NY, I suppose, but maybe Minnesota). So the whole atmosphere is Victorian, and there are lots of wonderful characters--and a few bad ones. I decided this afternoon, with my desk piled high, that finishing that book was the thing I had to do first. My reasoning was that if I finished it, it would no longer tempt me. Now I'm reading a serious (and probably heavy) book on the place of literature in today's culture. Good to stretch the mind.