Rebate, Rebate

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There was an interesting story in today’s paper about the rebate checks that the government will be cutting and mailing shortly in a ham-fisted effort at stimulating the economy. (“But how do you really feel, Maggie?”) Interestingly, the majority of people (all New Yorkers, so not ones to mince words) interviewed for the story revealed that their rebates will be spent on bills—paying them, lowering their debt, not incurring new debt. Most people will not be going to customer-starved retailers and spending their cash. Nor will they be going out to dinner or on vacation. They want to pay their bills and will do so; any money left over, it was reported, will probably go into their savings accounts.

I was thrilled to hear this. Hearing that people want to get out of debt is certainly refreshing in this time of economic uncertainty.

Thing is, that’s not what the government wants us to do.

I’m not sure what we here are entitled to, but in thinking about it, I wondered what we would actually do if presented with a nice chunk of change. I really haven’t thought about it because a) how often do you get a check in the mail that’s real? (And I’m not counting the hundreds I get every year from a certain credit card company imploring me to change cards) and b) I won’t really believe it until the check is in my hot little hands. Honestly, my first instinct would be to pay some bills. But knowing that W doesn’t want me to do that, and not wanting to disappoint him (he’s had so many disappointments lately, hasn’t he?), here’s my short list of things to buy with $600.00:

1.The Christian Louboutin LaDonna Mary Jane Pump: $600.00. I get $300.00 for each kid, right? I’ve got two kids. Even I can do the math. It looks like, if I qualify for a rebate and I don’t put it toward the bills, I can get the LaDonna Mary Jane Pump, which would go splendidly with my Isaac Mizrahi Pencil Skirt from Target. The fashion mags tell us to mix and match, right? So why not a pair of $600.00 shoes with a cheap pencil skirt? I call fabulous on that.

2. Six Kobe Beef Porterhouse Steaks: Now, granted, they are twenty ounces each, and having just been in the presence of a twenty ounce steak, I can tell you that that’s a lot of steak. Over the weekend, I went to a ridiculously priced steak house in a city not far from here, and two friends split an order of a regular old American style twenty ounce steak. It was huge. But coming from good Irish families, they were loathe to leave anything on their plates, took one for the team, and finished off those bad boys. One of them is still marveling at the size of the steak and the fact that they were able to consume it. I’m still in shock from the fact that I paid $29.00 for chicken on a plate that I could have cooked at home.

3. Two composting toilets: Ok, granted, they are $305.99 each so you’d be a little short with your $600.00 rebate. But let’s say you have two bathrooms, like I do (although in the interest of full disclosure, only one is a full bath, the other being a 4’ x 4’ powder room that my son as appropriated as his own) and you are in the financial position to purchase two of these. And you want to go green. And you’d like to use your families’ waste to compost your own garden. Voila! The composting toilet. The web site on which I found this innovative product said that it is taking a little time for this idea to grab hold in most American households. Gee, I can’t imagine why.

4. Two HazMat suits: Say you go with option #1 and spend $305.99 on one composting toilet. You can put the rest of the money into the purchase of two HazMat suits to tend to your composted garden. Trust me, that would be a very wise investment.

So there are some helpful suggestions from me to you. I’d love to hear what you’re going to do with your rebate. Me? I’ll be paying bills.

Maggie Barbieri

Public Safety Writers Association Conference

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I’m just back from Las Vegas and the Public Safety Writers Conference. Small group, but it was terrific! Everyone had the opportunity to speak about his/her books, books were purchased and a joint booksigning at a new bookstore in Henderson was open to everyone from the con. (Cheesecake and Crime.)

Of course, Murphy was busy. The hotel kept changing our meeting room and it took all of our detective skills to track where we would be meeting next. As program chair, I had to switch things around a bit when my morning speaker, Michael Mehas (Stolen Boy), was late due to a migraine. A few other mishaps kept me on my toes–though the attendees didn’t realize what was going on.

Sunny Frazier, (When Fools Rush In) gave a terrific presentation on book covers, good and bad–and sexy.

Victoria Heckman and I instructed the members on how to write a mystery–and they participated in the planning of one–which turned out to be hilarious.

Denny Griffin told all about what it was like to work with a gangster on Frank Cullotta’s biography. (Cullotta)

This is a terrific, even though small, conference. We had the opportunity to really network and spend quality time with one another.

Not sure where we’ll be meeting next year, but keep this one in mind. Once I know more, I’ll be sure to post the information. By the way, the conference will have a name, Crime Writers and Crime Fighters.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Evelyn David At Malice Domestic XX

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Malice Domestic XX. It’s a huge conference, but people are as friendly as they can be. Here is my “real time” diary of the event.

Part 1 – Friday

Drove down from New York this morning. Let’s say it was nobody’s finest hour. We’d put out a MySpace bulletin that Evelyn David would be bringing chocolate to Malice. About 40 minutes from the house, I asked my husband if he’d put the candy in the trunk. He assumed I had. The mystery is that we both lived to tell (and now to laugh) the tale. We zoomed back over the GW Bridge, picked up the candy, and headed back down the turnpike.

Finally arrived at the hotel and rode up in the elevator with Jim Lavene. He and his wife, Joyce, write the Peggy Lee Garden mysteries, as well as the Stock Car Racing series. They’ve got two new mysteries series about to debut. I was on a panel with them at last year’s Malice. Plus Joyce is a master gardener. I’m always impressed by authors who keep several series going at once. Carolyn Hart has three series — who else?

This evening is a lecture by the Poison Lady. I’ll be taking careful notes since poison seems like a clever murder weapon! There’s also two other programs tonight, plus a reception. Tomorrow the panels kick off at 9 and go through the Agatha awards banquet. Should be an exhausting, but fun/interesting day.

And by the way, dropped off the chocolate in the hospitality room — and it’s almost gone. Mysteries and chocolate definitely go together!

Part 2 – Friday

“It’s incredibly easy to poison somebody.”

Just came from a fabulous session by Luci Hansson Zahray, otherwise known as The Poison Lady. She’s a toxicologist who loves mysteries (reads 300 books a year!). She had lots of suggestions for how to incorporate poison into a murder mystery. For example, some plants are safe to eat in the Northern states, because of the short growing season, whereas the same type of plant is toxic in the South because of the long growing season. Toxicity increases over time — so it might be safe to ingest in May, but by August, deadly. Think of the possibilities for the clever killer who knows his poisonous plants. He declares his innocence because he ate the leaves from the same plant in his salad in the spring. Wasn’t his fault his victim died in August eating a tainted salad!

Zahray told scary stories about ricin. Derived from the castor bean, if you ground up enough beans to equal the weight of a nickel — you could kill 100,000 people.

A bit of trivia that should appear in some novel…heroin, a morphine derivative, got its name from “heroic effort against pain.”

At the opening ceremonies, I sat next to Robert Barnard, British author who flew in to conduct the interview with Peter Lovesey, who is receiving the Malice Lifetime Achievement award. I also saw Chris Grabenstein who blogged at The Stiletto Gang today; Agatha nominees Hank Ryan Philippi and Elizabeth Zelvin; and new author Rosemary Harris. I met Michael Allen Dymmock, author of the Jack Caleb/John Thinnes series.

I’m going to be broke by the time I finish buying all the books of all the authors I meet or hear this weekend. More later — two more programs tonight!

Part 3 – Saturday

Just finished attending a wonderful panel, “Cozy Up to these Sleuths: What Does a Cozy Make?” A fascinating discussion about the cozy genre with Carolyn Hart, Jane Cleland, Audrey Friend, Mary Ellen Hughes, Emilie Richards, and G.M. Malliet moderating.

Carolyn Hart was incredibly thoughtful in her response to whether she liked the term “cozy.” She said she “loathed the term” because it was originally used by Raymond Chandler as a “diss” about Agatha Christie. She prefers the term “traditional” or “classic” mystery. Carolyn explained that “I don’t write ‘cute’ mysteries. I write mysteries dealing with human emotions, dealing with right and wrong.” She added that the traditional mystery avoids gratuitous sex and violence. It’s not that those elements aren’t in the classic mystery, but it’s how they are presented. She gave as an example, Agatha Christie’ s book, “The Body in the Library.” Set in St. Mary’s Mead, a small town, and yet “if you look past its intimate setting, it’s a very grisly book.” She added “I’m very proud to be a mystery writer.”

The panel discussed the elements of a cozy mystery and suggested that these include: a closed setting, limited number of suspects, the killer knows the victim, a plausible method of murder, and forensics can be mentioned by are not intrinsic to the solution.

The panel was asked: if you were stranded on a desert island, which three mystery books would you take with you? One admitted that she wanted a book on how to build a raft! but Agatha Christie’s “Then There Were None,” was mentioned several times, as were books by Robert Parker and Josephine Tey. Got me to thinking which ones I would take…how about you?

Off to a panel on the paranormal called “Touch of Woo-Woo.”

Part 4 – Saturday

Full disclosure: I’m the wrong half of Evelyn David to be at a paranormal panel. The Southern half loves this genre. Me? I get scared by the stuff.

After this panel, though, I might pick up some of these books. The authors were hysterical. Apparently hanging out with ghosts, zombies, shape shifters, brings out the funny! All agreed that they needed some humor in their books, otherwise they’d get “bogged down.

Moderated by Maria Lima, the panelists were Lorna Barrett, Lillian Stewart Carl, Casey Daniels, Carole Nelson Douglas, and Elena Santangelo. Two of the panelists say they were attracted to the paranormal mystery because they love history. Lillian Stewart Carl described how most historians will experience an “epiphany” when they visit a historical site, “almost a haunting…that moment when you can envision exactly what happened.” It’s that perspective that motivated her to write her books. It struck me that whether it’s the paranormal or a more traditional classic mystery, we see that “aha” moment in the reveal when the hero/heroine can described exactly what happened – and why.

When asked why she included ghosts in her book, Casey Daniels had both a funny and an honest answer. She said that the ghosts in her book were used for comedic effect, but also added that she did believe in ghosts herself, so she thought it was natural to include them in a book.

All the authors insisted that the mystery cannot be solved via the paranormal, that is, that it can’t just be a magical reveal. The protagonist has to “solve” the case, even if the answer lies in the paranormal.

We wrote one paranormal short story, “I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries.” I wasn’t sure how to write a novel-length paranormal story — but this gave me some ideas. It’s one of the values of mystery conferences – the opportunity to explore new directions.

Part 5 – Saturday

This panel had an interesting slant — from the point of view of the villain in a mystery. It was called, Cruella de Villain: Unforgettable Killers Make Good Mysteries.

The panelists were Suzanne Aruda, Jan Burke, Ellen Byerrum, Clare Langley Hawthorne, and Roberta Iseleib. Triss Stein was the moderator.

Lots of interesting thought-provoking ideas. Jan Burke emphasized that villains need to be complex characters. She says it’s a cop-out just to have “He’s crazy,” as the motive…”the villain’s world must make sense.”

Laughed when Ellen Byerrum described taking a PI class. Said she flunked “surveillance” and had to take “remedial surveillance.”

When asked where they find ideas for their villains, Jan Burke talked about how sometimes a character “won’t get out of my head.” She also pointed out that not all first ideas are winners, but sometimes you use one and as you develop your story, a better one comes along. She suggested that it helps not to “over-direct” your creativity and sometimes ideas will develop as you let your imagination wander.

Fascinating discussion about male versus female villains. Statistics say there are fewer female serial killers — but that is changing.

Also loved the comment about the writing life by Suzanne Arruda. She said “Writing is like combing my hair. There will always be a big knot. I have to tease it out rather than rip it out.”

Part 6 – Saturday Night

Just got back from the Agatha Awards Banquet. It’s always so inspirational — and funny. The people who create fictional murder and mayhem are some of the funniest people I’ve ever seen.

Daniel Stashower was the Toastmaster. Incredibly articulate and also incredibly funny. He did a wonderful job moving the evening along – and he also won an Agatha tonight for editing “Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters.”

Elizabeth Foxwell, a mystery historian, gave a brilliant talk on the need to preserve the letters and papers of classic mystery writers of the past, as well as how to promote the genre in the future.

Peter Lovesey won the Malice Lifetime Achievement Award. Handsome and debonair, he explained that “behind every amazing man is an amazed woman.” The crowd cracked up. He then said that he wanted to give a lifetime achievement award to his amazing wife, Jacks, whom he called “my inspiration, first editor, and main reader.” He then walked off the stage, gave a hug and kiss to his wife, and handed her a jewelry box. Wow! He then came back to the stage and gave a funny and gracious acceptance speech.

Lindsey Davis was presented an award as the International Guest of Honor. It was her first time at Malice and she too had the crowd in stitches.

Finally, came the Agatha Awards. Sarah Masters won the Best Children/Young Adult Fiction; Donna Andrews won the short story award; Hank Phillippi Ryan won best first novel; and Louise Penny won best novel of the year.

Malice Domestic is a delightful mystery conference, chock full of writers, readers, editors, agents, all sharing a love for the cozy, traditional, classic mystery. It’s been great to be here. Learned alot, laughed alot, and can’t wait to come back.

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Second Acts

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A confession. I watch Dancing with the Stars…religiously. I’ve never had any interest in other reality shows. I’ve got zero interest in camping out with strangers for a month even to win a million dollars on Survivor. My idea of roughing it is a motel without room service.

But, in a little corner of my mind, I can see myself gliding across the floor in the arms of a tall gentleman in white tie and tails performing a Viennese Waltz.

Some critics say Dancing with the Stars is just another boot camp for D list stars, willing to boogie their way back into the limelight. Maybe. But the amount of work is ferocious, learning one, and now that the season is moving towards the finale, two routines per week. The way I see it, if you’re on the D list and manage to make it to the final Dancing four, you’ve earned a promotion to the C list at the very least.

I wasn’t surprised, but slightly saddened, by the elimination in the last two weeks of Priscilla Presley and Marlee Matlin. ‘Cilla is no spring chicken, the grandmother of two, soon to be three kiddies. And Marlee, while considerably younger, is also past the traditional Hollywood babe age.

But there they were, kicking up their heels, Cilla performing a split for goodness sakes – and enjoying the prime of their lives. Whatever they had done and achieved in the past, and it’s been significant for both, they are continuing to challenge themselves in the second act of their lives.

Which got me to thinking of how Dancing with the Stars and Evelyn David have a lot in common. (Buckle your seatbelts, this may be a crazy ride.) To be deliberately vague, let’s just say that when we wrote Murder Off the Books, neither half of Evelyn David was eligible for a student discount at the movies. Just to be clear, however, we weren’t eligible for the senior citizen early bird special either. But one of the best parts of the success of our book is that it has opened a new chapter (pun intended) in our lives. Rather than buy a red convertible and find some new arm candy to deal with any mid-life crises, we wrote a mystery. Then we learned a whole series of new “routines,” like promotion and public speaking. We discovered that our second act is as exciting, challenging, and fulfilling as anything that we’ve done before.

Shall we dance?

Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake, coming Fall 2008
www.evelyndavid.com

Perception, Reality, and Hyper Happy CVS Customers

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Anthony Award-winning Chris Grabenstein writes fabulous adult mysteries and thrillers. Hell Hole,the newest of the John Ceepak/Jersey Shore books, will debut this August. He also writes the Christopher Miller holiday thriller series. In May, look for Chris’s newest project: The Crossroads, a spine-tingling spooky ghost story for middle schoolers. The Stiletto Gang welcomes Chris Grabenstein!

A couple weeks ago, I was sitting in one of those Dilbert cubicle offices at our local Citibank branch, waiting for the management trainee (nice lady, but I suspect it was her first day on the job) to return once again from the Manager office – the real manager as evidenced by the fact that she had a) an office b) no mere mortal could deign approach said office c) it was behind all that brick-thick Plexiglas where they keep the new five dollar bills with the purple ink that my wife loves.

I’m sitting at the bank for the worst reason possible: someone has been forging checks on our account (look for the name Michael Butler to show up in one of my books soon. I’m not sure who he’ll be but, most likely, it will be a character who is pimply jerk with bedwetting issues and very frilly, feminine penmanship).

That’s all I want to do: stop payment on the forged check, close the account, find the forger, draw and quarter him/her, restore a sense of justice to the world. Hey, I write mysteries. The assistant manager keeps asking me if, while I’m there, I would like to take out a home equity loan. Maybe sign up for a mortgage. I think I get free airplane tickets if I do. I wonder if this is why we are currently weathering a mortgage meltdown crisis? Too many airplane tickets for folks who sign up for adjustable rate mortgages when they came in for a roll of quarters so they could do their laundry.

Anyway, I digress.

I meant to be writing about perception and reality.

Maybe it’s because, even though Ceepak Mystery #4 HELL HOLE won’t be out until July 22, 2008, I’m already working on book #5. It takes place in Atlantic City and deals with manipulated realities: a murder backstage at a world famous illusionist’s show playing in the casino’s main theatre. Lies everywhere to confound Ceepak’s honor code! As Bruce Springsteen says in his new song Magic, which, of course, will be quoted in the book: “Trust none of what you hear and less of what you see“

As I sit in the cubicle, admiring the cubicle school furniture all around me, wondering if it will ever rival Stickley, I see this poster. An ad.

For the record, I spent 17 years writing and producing TV, radio, and print advertising. I am still fascinated by the manipulation of imagery for devious purposes.

On the Citibank poster, here is what is depicted: An Asian dude, probably in his mid twenties, headphones strapped over his ears, orange shirt artfully open so one can see the yellow T underneath it (the rumpled slob look currently en vogue so I know this Asian dude is a happenin’ young adult). He is riding a unicycle on gravel in a park.

That’s it. No headline. No body copy. Just the image of the lanky guy who sort of reminds me of that Chinese NBA star riding on one wheel like a doofus over gravel that will scrape his knees when he loses his balance.

This is a six-foot tall “dangler” – one of those posters that hang suspended from the drop tile ceilings in banks and fast food joints (I’m sorry, I meant to say QSRs – Quick Service Restaurants, because that’s we had to call Kentucky Fried Chicken when we told the world “Everybody needs a little KFC.”)

Why is this poster hanging in Citibank? Do they give out unicycle loans ala auto loans? Did he get the unicycle free with his Citibank Thank You points? The orange shirt?

There’s another poster. In the window. This one is at least semi-bankish. It shows an extremely happy older couple staring at a blue print and the bare beams of a house under construction, imagining their uber kitchen. Their dreams are coming true! Life is good! This one I get. Bank. Mortgages. Home Improvement Loans.

But there are other danglers simply showing happy, peppy people. Lots of heads tossed back in laughter. Super joy. Puppy dogs. Frolicking in leaf piles. The folks depicted in the bank look the same as the ones in the windows of the CVS drug store on 86th Street and Amsterdam Avenue where they have whole windows filled with headshots of impossibly blissful, dare I say exultant, individuals.

Ethnically diverse. Fashionably dressed. Happy, peppy, and bursting with love. Inevitably, the heads are tossed back in throes of ecstasy. These giant heads in the CVS windows have never been SO GOSH DARN HAPPY!

So why am I so miserable? Sitting in the bank cubicle wasting over an hour with, unfortunately, a very nice lady who doesn’t know what she is doing.

Why am I not giddy with joy at CVS or Circuit City or any of the corporate chains that plaster these posters of happy people all over the place while paying their Customer Service (and I use that term loosely) workers the minimum wage, thereby attracting the surliest and sourest humans possible, folks who think it’s rude of
you to reach their register while they are in the middle of an interesting cell phone conversation.

The people in the pictures in the windows and dangling from the ceiling are happy.

I should be too.

It’s my fault.

This, I think, is the real reason behind the image of the unicycling Asian dude merrily wheeling his way through life at the bank, the cheerful senior citizens loving life, dentures and all, in the windows of CVS.

If I am having some problem with the slooooow service, the shabby products, with anything it’s just that – my problem. Everybody else, as I can plainly see, is having a wonderful time.

If my reality doesn’t meet the perception as depicted, whose fault is that?

Most likely mine.

I start unicycle lessons tomorrow.

Chris Grabenstein
www.chrisgrabenstein.com

Mystery Plots

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A priest hanging from a bunch of helium-filled balloons disappears. A caller reporting child abuse at a polygamist compound can’t be found. A mail carrier catches a baby who falls from a second story window. The daily news is a great source of “plot bunnies” for mystery writers. It’s just a matter of choosing a subject that will hold your and your readers’ interest for 100,000 words.

With the advent of 24-hour cable news and the Internet, today’s writers have access to an endless stream of interesting stories and events. Unsolved murders, missing persons, haunted houses, treacherous weather, family feuds, dangerous jobs, and unexplained events are wonderful building blocks for your next mystery novel. Many writers keep a notebook filled with plot ideas; others, like me, file the information away in memory for future use.

It’s time for “Evelyn David” to start a new book. Since there are two writers involved we not only have lots of plot ideas, but have to negotiate with each other to narrow the choices. Sometimes one of us will take an idea and run with it, writing a few pages to see if we can truly turn the idea into a viable storyline. I have at least five such partial stories parked on my desktop – everything from a sequel to our short story, I Try Not To Drive Past Cemeteries, to a children’s story involving Jesse James loot, to a couple who run an antique store and solve murders in their spare time. From time to time I write a little more on each, depending on my mood. I’m not sure any will ever make it to a publisher’s desk, but maybe.

How to start? I bring up a blank sheet of paper on my computer screen. I type a working title. Then save the blank page. (Note: it’s always wise to save your work every half page or so. I haven’t lost any work yet to a power surge and I don’t intend to – bowing my head and offering a silent prayer.)

It’s usually best to start in the middle of the action – the scream of the baby falling, the ring of the anonymous call, the man hanging from the balloons drifting out of sight. You want to start with the “good stuff” then back up and describe your setting and your characters. Some people work off of an outline. My co-author and I don’t – or at least we don’t have a hard and fast one. Later in the writing, as the subplots develop and begin to take on a life of their own, we start structuring the chapters and the scenes.

We keep a running list of character names, descriptions, occupations, etc. – all the details you don’t want to forget (i.e. your hero drives a Ford Bronco on page 20 and suddenly leaps into a Chevy Tahoe on page 187.)

As I mentioned earlier, it’s time for Evelyn David to start a new book.

The sticky tabs on the diaper held. Twenty pounds of screaming baby dropping two stories at the speed of gravity. Only fragments of seconds to act. Reaching up, my fingers found purchase between the leg opening and the waistband. Pampers were tough. And on sale at the local super center. Strange the thoughts that run through your mind at times like these.

Dead silence. The baby and I looked at each other in amazement. My heart felt like it was going to explode; I couldn’t seem to take a deep breath.

The baby had no such problem. The noise was deafening.

I got a better grip. The sudden moisture on my hands had me checking the baby for injuries. There were none.

The diaper was strong—but not leak proof.

Okay, not great. But it’s a start. Maybe I need to watch CNN for more ideas.

Good luck with your own writing!

Evelyn David

Girls’ Night Out–Archaic Ritual or Necessary Endeavor?

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I was recently watching one of my favorite reality television shows—The Real Housewives of New York City—and the subject came up among the women on the show about the old “girls’ night out.” One woman took umbrage at the fact that her girlfriends had invited her over, yet had a collective freak out when she brought her husband. This caused much drama, with a conversation ensuing about the whole concept of the girls’ night out. The woman who had brought her husband made it a gender equality issue which one of the housewives—with whom I agree—thought was a bit over the top. The woman with the husband thought that it was discriminatory or some such hogwash that her husband couldn’t attend the dinner, which was supposed to be ladies only.

First question, why would she want him to attend?

Second, and more important question, why would he want to?

I haven’t been able to get my husband’s take on this yet, but being as he greets my girls’ nights out with a wave of the hand and the cracking open of a beer, I don’t get the sense that he’s too troubled by the whole notion. Nor do I get the sense that he wants to come along. Or that he feels discriminated against. Because, face it, at this point, all my girlfriends and I are talking about are the kids and peri-menopause. What man in his right mind would be interested in that?

And I’m not interested in finding out what goes on after his softball team, the Ducks, leaves the field and hits the bar for some cold ones and a rehash of the game. That’s for the Ducks.

Are we the odd balls? Should we, like this glamorous and madly in love couple on the Real Housewives (or so they profess), want to spend every waking moment together?

The answer, my friends, is a resounding “no.” (In my humble opinion.)

As I mentioned above, a girls’ night out affords me the opportunity to talk about those things that my husband isn’t really all that interested in talking about. To wit, has Target embraced “vanity sizing” whereby your old size twelve is now a fourteen? He is just not interested in the answer to that question, much less discussing it for close to an hour. And because he has a thirty-two inch waist and has since he was sixteen, couldn’t give a rat’s behind about vanity sizing. But for me and my girlfriends, this is a discussion that could go on as long as a Security Council meeting at the U.N.

Example #2: Are boot-cut jeans, in, out, or timeless? He doesn’t care. He wears the same jeans that he’s always worn—the ones that were on sale when he went shopping for jeans.

Example #3: How does one get out of their PTA position—the one that they have held since their now-fourteen-year-old was in kindergarten? Answer? One doesn’t. One has it until one succumbs to Dutch Elm disease. Or moves to another state. Or when one’s child graduates from the school (but even that’s not a guarantee). But until any or all of these things occur, one (me) stays on the PTA.

My husband, if I chose to bring this up, would tell me to just quit. Oh, if it were that simple. Does he realize the looks I would get at the produce counter? The hurt feelings? Or that I would have to find my own replacement and lie about how rewarding it is to do the things that I do? My girlfriends understand all this and more. (One of them is still wearing a wig and sunglasses out so that she won’t be recognized and put on a committee to run the next social event.)

Obviously, I’ve simplified things a bit. We do tackle some topics that are more mundane, and some that are more serious. We’ve done religion, politics, divorce, teenagers, marriage, and double coupons—but not necessarily in that order. I need my girlfriends to assure me that I’m on the right track, doing the right thing, doing the best by my kids and my husband. It’s a gut check, a panacea for paranoia.

I head out tonight with two friends for a couple of glasses of cheap wine and some burgers. I can only hope that they leave half as happy as I do after spending a few hours on the topic of my muffin top.

Maggie Barbieri

Jackass Mail Run, Come and Gone

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The second page of the Fresno Bee had a photo and story about the Mail Run, the Porterville Recorder thought it to be front page news. Tells you how important this rowdy event is. Hubby went up to town at 9 a.m. and set up the home made booth. When he was done, I went up and set up my books–we were in front of the dentist’s office.

Immediately, the scent of cooking tri-tip and popcorn and other wonderful smells drifted my way and I was ready to eat. I ended up going across the street and buying a torta a local church was selling. People started wandering down the street long before noon–the official opening time.

At first, no one stopped by my booth–books aren’t exactly tempting when there’s so much other stuff going on–mostly people driving up and down the street showing off their vehicles.

Finally, things got serious and I spent a lot of time describing my books and yes, before the day was over I’d sold 10. Not bad–better than I’ve done at some bookstore signings. Yes, I did see a lot of people I haven’t seen for awhile and met some new ones as I’d expected.

A flock of middle-aged saloon “girls” strutted up and down the streets with heaving bosoms and appropriate costumes. A group of varied aged belly dancers also wandered down the street on the way to the stage set up in front of the pizza place. We could only hear the entertainment, too far away to see it.

Around 4 p.m. the sounds of gunshots rang out. A posse came galloping in ahead of the mail wagon, shooting in the air to scare off the bad guys. Didn’t work. Once the mail wagon came right in front of my booth, the bandidos stole the mail sack. Didn’t keep it long though, they were soon shot dead right in front of my eyes. The mail sack was retrieved and the mail delivered safely to the post office. (The bandidos came back to life in minutes.)

I made the cost of the booth and some profit and had fun, so it was a good day.

My writing friend and long time mentor arrived Sunday afternoon and we talked writing all evening long. In the night, a skunk decided to stroll past one of the dogs and he barked his annoyance waking me up. I knew it was a skunk because of the distinctive stench that floated in my bedroom window.

In the a.m. we talked more writing (great fun) and at noon I took her to Porterville, where we had lunch with another writer friend who will be the hostess for the next couple of days. Now it’s time for me to pack for Las Vegas and the Public Safety Writers Conference.

(While we’re gone, the Springville Rodeo will go on. Not sorry I’ll miss it–very difficult to get out of our driveway with all the cars passing by.)

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Spitting in the Wind

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I don’t think of myself as superstitious. I prefer to present myself as just an average woman taking reasonable precautions so the fates don’t barrel in and knock me flat. I will concede, however, that what seems like sensible safety measures to me, might seem like Looney Tunes to the next person.

So where does it all begin? Remember the saying, “step on a crack, break your mother’s back”? My mother had severe spinal arthritis. As a child, I couldn’t help but wonder if my sister and I had raced too carelessly up and down the block? Picture six-year-old Evelyn David laboriously stepping over each crack in the sidewalk until her big sister lost patience with her geriatric progress to the movies and knocked her flat. Forget the fates when you’ve got older siblings.

Rational people have to be intelligent about their superstitions – and that’s not a contradiction in terms. Hear me out. I don’t throw salt over my left shoulder if I spill any. Why? First, who uses much salt given all the fears about hypertension? But more importantly, who the heck is going to clean up the salt if I do toss it willy-nilly over my shoulder? I’ve never noticed any fates picking up a broom.

But as anyone who spends thirty seconds with me, in person or online, knows, I seem to be constantly spitting. No it’s not denture plates flapping in the wind. Instead, and I confess I have yet to meet anyone else who seems to have heard of this superstition, I follow the “poo, poo” rule.

It’s a multi-purpose, one-size-fits-all superstition. At its core, it is used to provide cover from the evil eye. So when I see a new baby, as soon as I finish saying, “he’s so beautiful” I immediately add, “poo, poo.” I don’t want those pesky fates anywhere near an innocent child.

But poo, poo, is also used to ward off the fates looking to up-end a cherished dream. So if I were to say, “I wish that Tom Selleck would decide to star in the movie version of Murder Off the Books,” I would then add, “poo, poo.” This will prevent those ornery fates from deciding to have Dr. Phil sign on for the role. Of course, the rational me says that if Dr. Phil does decide to make the movie, and more importantly, if his check to buy the movie rights clears, then maybe those fates do know a thing or two and I should stop spitting.

Sometimes I’m the designated spitter. It’s the same principle as the designated driver at a fabulous party. The champagne is flowing, the margaritas are plentiful (and so is all that salt dropping from the rims, I might add), people are laughing and forgetting all caution because they know that dull as dishwater Evelyn is in the corner ready to take up the slack, and drive everyone safely home, or in this case, spit as necessary. So when the Southern half announces gleefully that our sequel, Murder Takes the Cake, is going to win an Agatha, an Edgar, and land on the New York Times best-seller list, who do you think is left spitless trying to cover all the evil eyes undoubtedly looking to send our book directly to the remainder table?

That’s okay. You can count on me…poo, poo.

Evelyn David

Jane’s First Book Trailer

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The Stiletto Gang is pleased to welcome as our guest blogger, Jane Cleland. She is the author of the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries (St. Martin’s Minotaur). Her latest book, Antiques to Die For, debuts this month. Jane is also President of the New York chapter of Mystery Writers of America. Welcome Jane!

For the first time, I created a book trailer to celebrate my new book, Antiques to Die For. You can view it at http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=janecleland.

It was quite an experience creating it.

I worked with a terrific independent film maker named Kat. http://www.spygirlpix.com/ Kat taught me the process: strategy, script, casting, setting, shoot. Sounds easy, right? Hardly.

The strategy was pretty straight ahead because I knew what I wanted. I had a clear vision—strategically, I wanted to both show what the book was about and what the experience of reading would feel like. I wanted to provide enough information to intrigue readers of traditional mysteries while creating a strong sense of place and atmosphere.

Here’s what the book is about:

After setting up shop as an antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott’s life has not gone according to plan: business is booming and she has good friends and a promising romance—but dead bodies keep crossing her path. And now, a friend is killed just hours after confiding a secret to Josie, leaving a bereaved sister who reminds Josie of herself when her mother died.

It turns out that the victim had other secrets, too: a mysterious treasure she told her sister she was leaving behind—and a secret admirer who now seems to be turning his creepy attention to Josie. Can you imagine what it would be like to be a 12-year old orphan whose sister is murdered? Can you imagine what it would be like if your sister told you that you owned a treasure—a priceless antique—but you don’t know what it is or where it is?

Set on the beautiful and rugged New Hampshire coastline, Antiques to Die For is filled with antiques lore and complex plot twists. In the end, using her knowledge of antiques, Josie finds the valuable treasure—and solves the crime. And in doing so, she gives a young girl hope.

At first, when thinking of the trailer, I focused almost exclusively on the young girl, but that took me off on the wrong track. Certainly, the girl, she’s a little blonde pixie named Paige, by the way, is a central character in the book. But Antiques to Die For is a Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery—and that means the trailer should focus primarily on Josie’s world—antiques, not a single character.

Casting was something else all together. I wanted to hire a girl to play Paige, but only her rear view would be seen. I wanted viewers to fill in their own ideas about what Paige looked like.

Kat ran ads on Craig’s list, and we were flooded with blonde ambition. One girl, or rather, her mother, wrote that her daughter was fourteen, but could play twelve. Another wrote that her daughter was ten, but could play twelve. We had two mothers who wanted to fly their daughters to New York to audition. Enough said. We picked a lovely 12-year old local girl named Shannon.

Perhaps the greatest challenge was finding a New York City shoreline location that looked even remotely like Rocky Point, the New Hampshire shoreline community where the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries are set. Leave it to Kat! We did. When you view the trailer, keep in mind that you’re looking at a New York City beach. Pretty incredible, isn’t it?

In the end, I couldn’t be happier with the finished product. It expresses exactly what I wanted to express. A excerpt of the book is available in text or audio on my website, http://www.janecleland.net/. I love to hear your thoughts about book trailers—and the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries, too.

Jane Cleland