Voices, Bells, and Alarms

Yesterday afternoon when I was napping, dozing really, I heard voices that sounded so close I thought someone was in the house. Decided it was probably people talking in the neighbor’s driveway, which is right outside my bedroom window. Pretty soon the phone rang—it was the medical alarm service calling to see if I was all right. I must have rolled over on the alert wristband I wear. And the voices? Probably the alarm system, but it’s two rooms away, and I take my hearing aids out to sleep. Must move that alarm central box to my bedroom.

All day yesterday, the house alarm control panel told me the back door was open. I checked it frequently, and it was closed and locked. Last night when I turned on the alarm, it was showing a green light indicating all was well. At 3:00 a.m. the screaming alarm woke Sophie and me—I turned it off, but it told me the back door was open. I checked again, came back to reset the alarm, and the phone rang. The system had called Jordan and Christian—I assured him everything was all right, and he put her on the phone. Apparently she was already half dressed and headed for my house. We all went back to bed…and the darn thing went off again at 4:15. I called the company today, they did a reset, and I’ve been watching it all day. So far it seems fine.

Meantime, this morning I heard much more pleasant voices—often a cacophony of them. I spoke to the Biscuits and Books Book Club at the home of a friend. Lively, fun ladies who really are interested in books. We discussed everything from the peacocks in my latest book (Murder at Peacock Mansion) to whether or not I listen to my characters when I write.

Me, between Joan Hallford and Marietta Slater, both
Volunteer Field Editors for Taste of Home Magazine
and members of the Biscuits and Books Book Club-
we did have biscuits and books both today--well, sort of.
Don't know about the expression on my face--
I look like a bulldog about to snarl
 

The hostess prepared elegant food—cinnamon rolls, sausage bites, salsa with chips, grapes and little square of toffee. Then she was surprised no one wanted to go out to lunch! I came home and napped after my rude awakenings in the night.

Tonight I have taken my two favorite dates—ages nine and ten—to the Grill for supper. They were thrilled that they got to sit at a table by themselves because the neighbors table was full, and they behaved well. Jacob is settling down for the night, and I’m looking forward to joining him soon. Must be up early tomorrow to get him off to school and me to PT.

Brightening my mood

I've had a case of the blahs lately. I thought it was because I'd had such a busy time there for a bit, with big events, and then I settled down to the ordinary--although today I met with a book club that I thoroughly enjoyed. A lively, wonderful group of women who were full of questions and weren't afraid to suggest what they saw as flaws in Skeleton in a Dead Space. On the whole, though, they were enthusiastic about the book, and those that read the second book said they thought Kelly was better in that one. Growing into your characters or letting your characters grow or whatever--it was nice to hear.
But this afternoon Jordan and I each had different agendas, and she said I was cross and curmudgeonly lately--why is it me, when she's determined to stick to her agenda, which was wine with the girl next door at whose house Jacob was playing. Anyway, we made nice, went over the recipes I wanted her to look at, and she went off to have wine. I declined because Sue was coming for wine shortly, and I figured it didn't become me to sip my way through the afternoon.
But I've also been put out with my oldest son because he planned a big family reunion for Memorial Day--and forgot to tell me. Oh, I knew it was a possibility that the New York Alters would come visit, but no one told me there were definite plans for them to come to Houston, not Fort Worth. My nose was out of joint, and I considered cutting him out of my will. Well, not really.
But Sue and I were talking about diet, and she said she gets crabby when she cuts out carbs--I haven't had bread since I overindulged when the Canterbury Choir boys were here. Sue ate a slice of peanut butter toast this morning and said she immediately felt better. Hmmm--something for me to think about.
I had a good visit with Sue. She's only a tiny bit older than my oldest, and she calls me her Fort Worth mom, but we are also good friends. So we talked about everything from kids to parents to food--you name it. I chide her about some things, and she's not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong. When she left I went off to the Grill to have my weekly meatloaf fix with the neighbors, most of whom had already finished their suppers, so I righteously ate only half my meatloaf and brought the other half home. But their conversation, along with Sue's took me out of my funk. If you will, it took me out of myself.
I have a routine doctor's appointment tomorrow, but I'm going to ask about carbs (honest, I've lost four lbs.).
Meantime I think I'll have peanut butter toast for breakfast.

Book clubs and the way they see your characters

I spoke to a book group last night, eight ladies, about Skeleton in a Dead Space, the first Kelly O'Connell Mystery. The subject of Kelly's character kept coming up. Most of the ladies liked her a lot. The hostess, my friend who had invited me (Joyce is on the far right in the picture above), found her a bit rash, though she didn't use that term in any derogatory way. But the discussion set me to thinking about how different people perceive a character in contrast to how the author (creator) perceives him or her. A recent review had good things to say about the book but found Kelly remote, snobbish, self-absorbed. Since I incorporated so much of myself into Kelly's character that came as a shock. So did rash, which I would never apply to cautious me. Others in book groups have thought Kelly placed her children in danger by bringing Teresa into her house (this only makes sense if you've read it). In one group, when I was trying to define a "cozy" by saying sex and violence take place off-stage, a woman said "Oh, that's why she never goes to bed with Mike." I had to bite my tongue to keep from revealing secrets of the second book.
My oldest daughter told her mother-in-law that Skeleton is a "highly autobiographical" novel, and of course in many ways it is. The single parenting, the conflicted feelings about an ex, the love of old houses, all come from me. I am puzzled that I, loving to cook, created a heroine who isn't a cook and takes her kids out to eat or orders pizza--but Kelly gets better at meals in subsequent novels. And no, my ex wasn't murdered--he died last week of natural causes--and he was never as slimy as Tim in the book. Nor have I ever been in a physical fight, which Kelly is in the book. So there's some me, some not. And, sigh, there was a Mike Shandy in my life but only briefly. I should be so lucky!
In another sense, I like to think that Kelly is the kind of person I am. One reason I blog and blather about family and Jacob and daily life is to give readers and potential readers a sense of who I am,
what kind of heroine they can expect. So when she comes out rash, snobbish, self-absorbed, I'm befuzzled.
Last night I said to the group, "Oh, but she helps Mrs. Glenn...." and then I realized that's the second book. Kelly and her world are so famliar to me now that I forget there are two books others haven't read.
But I hope Kelly grows and changes in the subsequent books (two are written, and No Neighborhood for Old Women launches as an ebook the week of April 8, probably appears in print a month later). You'll have to tell me. Meantime, most of last night's wonderful women liked Kelly, didnt' think she was rash, selfish, a poor parent, any of those things. And I think I made some more friends for Kelly.
Speaking to small book clubs has been one of the most rewarding experiences about publication of Skeleton. Women in these groups (I've yet to speak to one with a man in it) are open and honest in their reaction. Yes, they criticize but mostly they're very enthusiastic about the book--and I think they've helped me make Kelly's character grow.
About men as readers: I've wondered if the Kelly books are chick lit, wondered if men would read them. Several have and have told me good things, plus several women told me their husbands enjoyed the book. And last night, Joyce, the hostess, said her husband and son were both looking forward to reading it. I asked if she thought it was chick lit, and she said not at all, it had a lot of elements that both men are interested in. So another worry down.
A bonus today: I took out an ad, yet to appear, in the newsletter of a neighborhood that borders Fairmount, the setting of the Kelly mysteries. The woman I dealt with wrote today, apologizing for not getting in touch sooner. She was absorbed in getting the newsletter out and now she's reading a mystery that she can't put down and so can't be bothered with email, etc.--it was Skeleton. What a nice compliment.

A boy and a dog and thoughts on book clubs

I'm particularly proud of this picture because seven months ago Jacob was scared of Scooby--who is the sweetest dog in the world. But Sophie came into our lives, jumping and nipping with puppy teeth, and Jacob somehow decided Scooby was safer. Now he lies down on the floor with either of them. Sophie climbs all over him, licking, and he just giggles. I was afraid of dogs when I was very young--my parents mistakenly told me a Scottie snapped at me when I was an infant. But then my brother brought home a sweet but wild collie mix named Timmy (female). I loved that dog and have loved so many dogs since--and grieved over more than I care to count. I can't imagine living without a dog. My other grandchildren are comfortable with dogs, ranging from strong affection to mild interest, and I wanted Jacob to be a dog person.
My Sophie experiment was selfish, granted--I wanted one of the "doodle" breeds, but I also wanted Jacob to have a puppy, at least part time, and I wanted a companion for Scooby. Sophie (my private name for her is Wild One) has done her job admirably--Jacob is at ease with all the dogs in the family and Scooby is much livelier.
Tonight I was a guest author at a neighborhood book club. Berkeley, I've discovered, has at least two book clubs plus a number of residents belong to a third one. I"ve spoken to the other two about Skeleton in a Dead Space, but I suspect tonight's was the longest-running group, together since 1982--thirty years. Remarkable. One woman had kept a record of every book they've read--but now she can't find it! I knew everyone but one member, and the evening was lots of fun. Most women who care enough to join a book club are bright, interested, and conversational, though talk often wanders from the book under discussion. Tonight I gave them some insights into writing though not what they expected--I am not a disciplined writer who locks herself in the office for at least four hours every day. Even in retirement, there's too much going on. I write when I can, and I admit circumstances make a huge difference: when I have no interest from a publisher, I'm likely to procrastinate; when I have deadlines, I'm much more dedicated. Right now I'm editing, with a fairly distant deadline, so it doesn't seem urgent; when I start a new manuscript I work more consistently at my writing.
I'm also realizing the term cozy mystery is not in general use, nor are plotter and pantser, so it's always fun to explain those terms. And the idea of self-publishing, an agent hunt, searching for a publisher--all the things part of my daily life--are foreign to these devoted readers. I kind of described stages of my career, from the '80s and '90s when I had an agent to the long dry period and then today, when I am happily settled with a publisher who is interested in building my career and in future books in the Kelly O'Connell series. I'm lucky to have found this publishing home--after writing for thirty-five years. Hope I can write  untl I'm ninety or more!
They cut the water off on my street for water repair at three today. I got two warnings that it would be off until midnight, so I stocked up on water, used almost none of it. And lo and behold, it was on when I got home at 9:30. Guess I'll water plants tomorrow with all that stored-up water.
A busy but good day. Tomorrow, house guests.

speaking to book clubs

There's been a thread on the Guppies (Great Unpublished) list lately about the value of speaking to local book clubs. I'm all in favor of it. Granted the audience is small, but if they like you and your book, they'll spread the word. Tonight I spoke to the "Berkeley Babes," a neighborhood group with a name that some acknowledge as incongruous. One said to me, maybe it was appropriate years ago when the club was formed and the members were indeed "babes."
Tonight they met at a  local restaurant on the patio--a lovely evening and perfect setting. The friend who invited me said they made it a rule that visiting authors could not sell books, which was a bit of a disappointment, so I took bookmarks. Turns out I needn't have worried: all but one of the fourteen women present had read (and presumably purchased) my book, which made disicussion all the much easier. We drank wine, ate salads, and they munched on pizza, which I declined. Then I spoke about the book, finding that once I've done it, extemporaneous was easy for me. I had some notes that the dog chewed and I was going to take them as a joke, but forgot--and the gimmick wasn't needed. I talked about how I got the idea for the book, the publication process, agents, etc.--talked maybe for 15 minutes--and then opened it for questions. They had lots of them, and there was lively discussion for at least thirty, maybe forty-five minutes. At the end, I had one prospective sale (she'd been traveling and hadn't read the book) and ten new friends (four of those present are in my writing class, and I may have picked up some intrest in that). But those ten new friends will, I hope, tell their friends about the mystery they read and the author who spoke to them.
I have three more book clubs and a university employees book group coming up shortly, with the probability of at least one more book club. . Small audiences, but worth the time. And good practice in speaking to promote my book. Word may spread from those and garner me more invitations. Lots better than sitting at a table in a bookstore watching people walk by and avoid looking at me--though I may do some of that too.
I always remember Jane Roberts Wood's Train to Estelline. Jane made it a hit by talking to every small group she could find. I think she's a good role model. If you really want to promote your book, no group is too small, no effort not worth making--with a smile.
A note of confusion: last night's post about Spam was meant to go on Potluck with Judy. I get mixed up easily between the two, and it ended on Judy's Stew. So I hope you enjoyed it. Yay, Spam!

Book clubs, mineral rights, and baby kisses

Oooh--I just got back from eating chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes at the Star Cafe, where I used to work. I'd forgotten how good it is--and how full it makes me feel.
This morning I talked to a book club, at the invitatoin of a friend from my church. Ten ladies, including my good friend Betty. I was to talk about my short story collection, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories, which I did but then the conversation veered off into books in general and publishing in detail. The ladies had questions about self-publishing, electronic books, all kinds of things. For me, the conversation was an ego boost. I think that what I do every day is just plain common sense and anyone could do it, but they kept talking about my knowledge of an entirely different world--the books I referred to, the terminology I used, the knowledge I had. And it made me feel good, like "Hey, I really do have an area of expertise!" I am really comfortable and at ease talking to small groups like that where I can perch on a footstool and have a conversation--just don't put me before a podium and a formal audience. These ladies had read the short stories and were enthusiastic about them, asking questions about specific stories and their origins, and so on. I came away feeling good about my career and my storytelling.
Ever since the Barnett Shale was discovered in North Texas, my neighborhood has been in a dither about mineral rights. Companies planned to put a drill pad on 8th Avenue, uncomfortably close to some of my distant neighbors. The neighborhood association urged us to act as a group and wait while a committee, including several lawyers, hammered out an agreement, which they did. It includes a more distant drilling site and a much better signing fee, plus the company donated a nice sum to the neighborhood park that we're building. So we're all set to sign. But today I got a contract from that company, plus one from a company that had not negotiated with the neighborhood and did plan to drill on 8th Avenue but was offering $1,000 more for sign-up (about $250 for most of us). So the dither began again, with a flurry of emails on the neighborhood news. I voiced my opinion that we should stay with the people who listened to our quality of life concerns, and most seemed to agree. But there it is--that uncertainty again. Given my druthers, I'd not sign at all. But I see that as a gesture as futile as spitting in the wind--drilling is inevitable, and if it's going to come anyway I might as well take the signing fee. Yes, it's going to be an enormous boost to the economy of this area--but you can't help worrying about risk and disruption of our peaceful neighborhood. I'm all for progress, but sometimes it's really painful to know which is the right course.
Jordan and Jacob were playing at a friend's house close to me tonight and ran by for a hug because Jordan knows I like to either hug my children or at least talk to them before they leave town. And all of the kids fly to California tomorrow for a weekend with their father. So after I gave Jordan a hug, I called the others. I somehow feel it's important to say, "Be careful, be safe, enjoy." A bonus tonight: Jacob has started giving kisses. He says "MMMmmmm" and puckers his little mouth. So adorable!