How Sexy Shoes Will Write This Book

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Rachel Brady

I’ve just started my third novel. Historically, these things take a while for me to finish. Four years for the first, two for the second. It’d be really nice to do this one in a year like normal writers.

My friend Laura is at the beginning of a project too. Check out her blog, One More Thing to Feel Guilty About. The woman is hilarious, and unfortunately that becomes frightfully important when you see where this story is going. Anyway, we agreed to keep each other honest this year as we muddle through our first drafts. Over dinner, I told her I was contemplating the idea of paying her a fee if I didn’t hit my word count goal each week. She favored the idea, but having already run it by my husband, I knew that he did not.

“Then I’m going to have to do something to humiliate myself if I miss the count,” I said.

She said, with a touch too much enthusiasm, that she’d like to participate in choosing what that humiliating thing would be. I’m afraid of her. Which is exactly why I said that would be fine.

At one point during the meal, I had a better idea:

“Maybe if I miss my word count, I won’t eat for a day.”

“Like, a whole day?”

“Yes, I’ll starve myself. I’m sure if I starved for a day I would never miss my word count again.”

“I could do that too. We’d be looking pretty hot.”

“The less we wrote, the better we’d look.”

We decided that the use of fasting to incentivize writing could potentially be a conflict of interest.

Somewhere between my second and third enchilada, Laura asked me about the Stiletto Gang and wanted to know if I actually, in fact, owned a pair of stilettos. I couldn’t just say yes or no, because the answer turns out to be quite involved. (Hang with me, it becomes important.)

Last April I attended the Malice Domestic Mystery Conference for the first time. On the evening of the Agatha Awards banquet, I changed clothes and joined everyone in the lounge area, where I found them all to be wearing full-up evening attire. I was in a casual dress. No big deal, I still had fun, but I did take note. Embarrassment leaves an impression, no?

Flash forward to my first Bouchercon World Mystery Convention last October. Now initiated, I shopped for some nice evening attire as soon as I sent in my registration check. This time, I’d fit right in. Got a cute LBD (little black dress) and some smokin’ black stilettos. Packed them up for Bouchercon . . . where the banquet required a ticket that cost something like a mortgage. I did not attend, nor did my LBD or sexy shoes.

“So you see,” I concluded, “I do own a pair, but I’ve actually never worn them.”

None of that matters for now, but just store it in your short term memory for a sec.

Laura and I returned to the topic of how best to humiliate myself. I said, “Maybe I’ll ask my blog followers and Facebook friends to suggest horrible things.” Most of you reading this fall into one of those camps, so I’m sure you can imagine how colorful those suggestions would likely be. “Whoever chooses the winning punishment could name a character in the book they shamed me into writing.”

This idea, we agreed, had merit.

But then after dinner, walking to our cars, Laura said, “What if you had to wear those stilettos to work?”

And we both kind of looked at each other like they do in the movies when the montage music gets cued.

“I didn’t tell you the best part,” I said. “They’re strappy sequin stilettos!”

She burst out laughing. “People will think you have no taste.”

Turns out, I actually don’t have much, but it’s easier to hide that when a girl wears business casual to work every day. Maybe it becomes more apparent when she adds sequin black stilettos to khakis and a polo.

“Of course,” she added, “I would expect photos for proof.”

“Can you imagine?” I said. “Stilettos and my NASA badge, in the same outfit?”

She feigned a pose. And so it was born. Either I’m getting a book out of this arrangement or you’re getting pictures.

Fun starts May 1st.

Cramming a Ton into One Weekend

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What a whirlwind weekend. First, I have to say, I LOVE CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA!!! There’s something about that city that speaks to me. I have city lust, big time. Don’t know if I’ll ever live there, though one of my dreams is to own a pretty house near the water.


Tonya Kappes, fellow Goddess at The Naked Hero, and I were invited to give a workshop at the Lowcountry RWA chapter meeting. Any excuse to visit Charleston! We flew in Friday, did our workshop Saturday–followed by a book signing set up by the fantabulous Amy Fagley of the Lowcountry chapter. Shout out to Amy, Sharon, Sharon Marie, Tina–who’s not actually a Lowcountry member, but who is awesome!!–Florina, Nina, Dorothy, and the rest of you fun gals!




Tonya did a running blog about our adventure (which you can see here and here). Our workshop was on Stripping Down the Hero Archetypes. A totally interactive, mutli-learning modality experience which everyone LOVED (you can see snippets of the workshop videos here).


I wrote so much on the plane ride there and back that I want to take a plane trip every week just to up my word count.


Then, icing on the cake, Tonya, who used to own a bead company (sold it for beaucoup $$$$ so she could write… OMG!) taught me how to bead! Got home, took my daughter to the bead shop in a nearby city which was closed, headed to Hobby Lobby, which was also closed (they don’t care to do business on Sundays apparently), and ended up at Michael’s spending WAY TOO MUCH $$$ on beads.

BUT we each made our first bracelets yesterday and we’re hooked on beading. Or should I say toggled on beading? Strung on beading? Whatever. WE LOVE IT!



To top off the weekend, I finished the chapters of my cozy proposal! That is to say, I finished the first draft of said chapters. Still have to revise, but that’s okay. I love revisions. I can dig into revisions. The meat is there, and it’s all gravy now.


Icing on the cake was record numbers of people visiting and entering to win FREE BOOKS over at Books on the House (and the kids/teen site). This week, Brenda Novak, gearing up for her online auction which begins MAY 1st (to benefit diabetes research) is giving away totes of books and gift certificates for the auction. My son has the disease and I’m thrilled to help Brenda however I can. The Stiletto Gang has donated signed books, too!


All in all, it was a great weekend (minus the hour+ I spend unsubscribing from all these email lists I somehow managed to get on…no, for the last time, I DO NOT NEED VIAGRA, and I’m a writer and DO NOT WANT A CAREER CHANGE TO MEDICAL TRANSCRIBING!!!


Food for thought: How do we get ON these email lists in the first place? Are you a beader? Been to and love Charleston? Have great productivity on an airplane? Enjoy interactive workshops?


Let’s hear it!


~Misa

Running the Race

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It’s great to have old friends if only for the shorthand that being acquainted for so long brings.

Case in point: my friend, Dr. Pantz. How she acquired that nickname is a story for another time, but suffice it to say that she is a doctor of theology and her surname is not “Pantz,” even though that’s what our entire family calls her. Pantz and I went to high school together where our maiden names both started with “S-C” and meant that we sat in the same formation for all the years we spent together, me one desk in front of her. Pantz once said that she did the academic side of school very well while I did the social side of school very well. In reality, we both managed to do a combination of both, but reflecting back on our high school selves, that’s a pretty apt description. She encouraged me to take up running, something I never excelled at, and I encouraged her to…well, I’m not sure what I encouraged her to do except blow the pop stand that was our high school in her junior year for early admission at one of the Seven Sisters schools where she continued to excel academically.

Pantz has studied abroad and made quite a name for herself in both theological and medical circles due to her research on medical ethics and specifically, harm to patients. We lost touch after high school until I discovered, by chance, that she was living right around the corner from me, here in our small Village.

We try to get together from time to time, but this year, haven’t been entirely successful. We haven’t seen each other since her annual New Year’s Day party and there she was today, sashaying into the local grocery store at exactly the same time I was. She informed me that she had run a half-marathon yesterday, and I resisted the urge to ask her exactly how many miles that was. It took me a few minutes to remember that it was thirteen miles, not the same distance as a 5K, but the thing with Pantz is that because she’s known me for so long, she knows that although I can’t divide twenty-six by two, I have other find qualities that have allowed us to be friends for over thirty years, with a little break in the middle for things like getting married, having kids, and establishing careers.

I approached the asparagus, which seemed obscenely cheap and asked her if the price could actually be $1.99. The man behind her smirked at me as I realized that it was $1.99 a pound, not a bunch. But Pantz didn’t blink because just like over thirty years ago when she was coaxing me through geometry, she knew that I would never be able to calculate the price of asparagus. I turned to the man and told him that yes, we went to high school together, and no, it didn’t matter to her that I can’t calculate the price of vegetables in my head. Calculating for me has been an integral part of our relationship and to her, it’s second nature.

Pantz is the person who told me, when I had received a Stage IV cancer diagnosis that the “longer you live with cancer, the longer you live.” She is also the same person who made sure that a very special chaplain at Memorial Sloane-Kettering said a prayer with me just hours before I underwent surgery. She is also the person who tirelessly researched every drug I was on and every trial I was to enter, letting me know how successful they had been and never telling me if they had proven unsuccessful in any way. She listened to every fear that I had and countered it with scientific fact. She never placated, but she always made sure the facts were on hand and translated them into information that I could understand. She is both a scientist and a woman of faith.

She is the one who told me when I developed lymphedema in my leg, post-surgery, that that was a battle scar and an indication that I had won the battle and the war.

So to say that every time I see Pantz I get a lift is an understatement. She is someone that I run into far too infrequently, but the shorthand is there. I will always remember how she could have run faster in the three-mile race that we did together as sixteen-year-olds, but she hung back so that I wouldn’t finish alone. To me, that is the perfect metaphor for a good and lasting friendship.
Maggie Barbieri

A Scorpion in my Bed

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Sounds like a book title, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, it’s the truth.

When I went down to my bedroom last night and turned back the covers, there was a scorpion on my side of the bed. No, I didn’t scream. I thought it was dead–if I knew it was alive, I’d have killed it right then and there.

I decided to tell my husband and ask him if he’d put it in my bed. (I knew he hadn’t but was trying to be funny.) By the time I got him and came back to the bedroom, no scorpion. The daggone thing was alive!

We tore the bed apart, shook everything out, no scorpion. My first thought was to sleep somewhere else, but decided my bed was far too comfortable, if the scorpion was still there, he’d just have to scoot over.

Slept the night through with nary a problem.

Before you all freak out let me tell you I live in the foothills of the Sierra in a very old house. I’ve had encounters with scorpions before and usually dispatch them with ease–but I thought this one was dead or I would have taken care of it.

We have lots of spiders too, some really big and ugly ones, but they don’t bother me either.

Lizards love to sneak inside when it gets really hot. Haven’t seen any this year yet. They are hard to catch and herd back outside–usually leave it up to the younger generation.

Never had a snake inside, though there are plenty around outside during the summer, including rattlesnakes. I’m not afraid of them either, but do have a healthy respect for them. I leave it up to others to take care of those critters.

We had a rat infestation when our bathroom and bedroom were being remodeled because the workers left all the doors open. We had to keep the cats shut off in the other part of the house, not wanting them to leave, so they were no help. Hubby and a grandson managed to dispose of the unwanted creatures except for one that managed to make it into cat territory and that was the end of him.

Oh yes, and there are skunks. I’ve never had an encounter, but my poor daughter-in-law did one night when she was leaving our house.

Living in the foothills has its downside, but there is plenty to make up for it. The scenery is gorgeous especially this time of year when everything is still green and the snow is plentiful on the mountains. We live on a hill above the Tule River and when I was younger I joined the kids in the swimming hole, now I just watch and listen to the water rushing over the rocks on its way down to the lake. At night, the stars are gorgeous.

This is the most popular time of year around here too, last week was the Jackass Mail Run, this weekend is Rodeo time. We’re a stone’s throw from the rodeo grounds so can hear everything that’s going on. I’ve been many times, but I’m skipping it this year. From the front yard, I can watch the parachutists jumping out of airplanes to land in the arena of the rodeo grounds–that’s enough.

During the month of August, there’ll be a barbecue and dance every Saturday night at the rodeo grounds to raise money for next year’s rodeo.

All summer long, there’ll be free concerts in the park too.

I think I can manage to share my space with all the critters who were here before me.

Marilyn

The Sunny Side of the Street

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I’d already written a blog for this week, but something happened that made me shelve it for the time being. I know you all want to know why I think Hugh Hefner actually made sense, but you’ll just have to wait for that bit of wisdom.

Instead, I was backing out of my driveway and saw a tiny cardinal hopping across my front lawn. It was just going about its business, but for me it was definitely the harbinger of spring, a time of renewal. I know both Passover and Easter have passed, and all the rituals that signify a new season, but that little bird made me smile and think about the little things in life that bring me so much pleasure and hope. Let’s assume that husband, kids, and friends do indeed bring me much happiness year round – but I’m talking about what’s the bomb diggity (to date myself endlessly) right now.

1. Pink tulips bulbs planted on a gray October day, when the skies matched my mood, that have now blossomed into heavenly multiple pink blooms. Given to me by a friend who wanted me to keep the long view in mind when going through a tough time, she reminded me that when things were bad, I should just think of the pink tulips to come. And indeed, she was right. They have popped out of the ground when my mood is so much lighter. (And kudos to friends who find such wonderful ways to offer comfort and support).

2. New recipes that are easy, healthy, and most of all tasty. I like to cook, but I’m often in a rut when it comes to dinnertime. Found a new web site that’s a delight because it’s food, family, and fun. If you haven’t stopped by the The Pioneer Woman, give it a try.

3. A fun new mystery series by C. S. Challinor. Two of my kids have studied in Scotland and a third lived in Jacksonville, Florida for a year. To find a mystery that combines the two locales is probably beating the lottery odds, but it was a delightful, fun read.

4. Working – and enjoying it. I’m writing a biography of a good guy and I love the research. I feel like a detective, hunting down clues and following leads – some of which are red herrings that lead nowhere. Hmmm, could be why I’m thrilled to be writing a new mystery with Rhonda. Just hand me a deerstalker hat and I’m off.

Tell me what’s making you smile lately?

Marian (the Northern half of Evelyn David)

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

Before and (Almost) After

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by Susan McBride aka Mrs. Fix-It

By special request, I’m back to (almost) finish up my home improvement tales. The to-do list has gotten rather skimpy, which makes me quite proud; although I still have a little ways to go on my re-vamping of the guest room project. Still I thought I’d share some “before” and “after” pics to show you what’s been done. Okay, first, an old pic of the minty green room:


The Victorian chair is to the right-hand side (I know, you can barely see it!). It’s covered in a really pretty leaf and lily pattern that just didn’t work with the new color scheme. The ottoman’s in front of the window since the cats used it as a perch to look outside. It doesn’t match the chair except that it’s green. I bought it for about $10 at a really dusty “antiques” shop near where my grandmother lived. You can also see the white-washed dresser bought for about $60 at an antiques mall, when I just needed something pronto to fill the room and to store away old manuscripts. Also, the window has no curtains, just a mint-green sheer I got for about $5 at Linens-n-Things and draped around a little metal rod.

Now for the re-done chair, for which I used Waverly fabric that was on sale for $15 a yard (and I needed three to cover it and the ottoman). Happily, since the curtain panels are Waverly, the dye lot in the chair fabric and the curtains work together great! Note the matching white paint on the ottoman’s feet. I tell ya, that epoxy spray paint for appliances has the perfect sheen! What a lucky mistake using that turned out to be.

Not bad, eh? You can kind of see the toned-down color of the green paint on the walls behind it. Below, you can glimpse the curtains that hang from the re-purposed wooden curtain rod I spray-painted. And there’s the rehabbed dresser newly dark-green and now with feet! I think I mentioned before that the “feet” were made from a pair of drapery finials I got at Lowes for under $4. Ed cut the pointy tips off, which worked beautifully!


The dresser isn’t quite finished yet. It has a spot on the back where you can tell some type of molding used to sit. I remembered my mom had a piece of molding to put over a doorway and had never used. So she donated it to my cause, and here’s what it looks like, although it needs to be cut down (it’s 62″ long!) and painted. But when it’s done and attached to back of the dresser, it’s going to be gorgeous!

It’s amazing what you can do with a little elbow-grease, paint, and fabric…and a creative mind! I can’t wait to get the room completed. Another weekend of work, and I think it’ll finally be done! Weeeee!

P.S. The dresser is finished! Here’s the proof:

Cozies versus Suspense/Mysteries

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I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the difference between a traditional mystery verses a suspense (or hybrid suspense/mystery) and a cozy mystery.

For me, understanding the differences has been key as I craft a proposal for a new cozy series. I’m the type of person who needs to really process through things and understand the foundation, and once I have that firm foundation, I can build the house, making changes as I go. If the foundation is strong, then changes as I go won’t make the house collapse.

Here are the key differences as I see them:

Mystery (cozy) verses suspense (or hybrid suspense/mystery)

  • Narrow World View

or

  • Larger World View

By this I mean that the detective in a mystery focuses on a smaller community, a collection of suspects, unraveling the secrets and lies within that community, in order to get to the truth.

In a suspense the action leads the hero to a larger, sometimes international, world which is where the clues lead.

  • Traditionally, the detective is not the center of the drama or action

or

  • The hero/heroine is the at risk him/herself and that is at the center of the drama

Especially in the mysteries of old, the detective doesn’t have personal growth or, put another way, he/she doesn’t go through a hero’s journey. More contemporary mysteries, particularly cozies, do have sleuths who undergo change or growth.

In a suspense, the center of the story is the hero/heroine. He/she is the one in danger and that is what drives the pursuit of justice (or the defeat of the villain). The hero/heroine is not on the periphery as the sleuth often is throughout a big portion of the cozy.

  • Who committed the crime? Will the puzzle be put together

or

  • Will the hero/heroine survive against a smart villain?

This is fundamental. In a mystery, will the detective put the pieces of the puzzle together in time before another death (sometimes the sleuth by this time) occurs? In a suspense, the question is really based on tension that is built from the danger the hero/heroine is in. Whether or not the villain will win is the driving force of the story.

  • Keeping the detective ahead of the reader.

or

  • Keeping the reader ahead of the hero/heroine.

In a mystery, the detective must be smarter than the reader! The puzzle has to be complicated or crafted well enough to fool the reader and keep him/her guessing, yet not too complicated or convoluted. In a suspense, or hybrid, the reader is really ahead of the hero/heroine because we know the danger that’s coming and we’re on the edge of our seats hoping that the hero/heroine is as smart as we are.

I’ve realized that I prefer the cozy model better. For starters, I don’t like to be on the edge of my seat in a heart-pounding scary way.

Blair Witch Trial?

NO WAY!

Hercule Poirot?

DEFINITELY!


So I’m curious, which type of mystery speaks to you? Do you like being ahead of the game as in a suspense, or a few steps behind the sleuth, hoping to put together the puzzle by the end?

~Misa

Untitled Post

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It’s a tough time to be a Catholic.

I speak from experience. Having been a practicing Catholic all my life—with a brief “lapsed” period in the 80s and 90s—I have been trying with all my might to reconcile the basic tenet of the Catholic Church (love thy neighbor) with the horrific abuses that we have all read about over the last decade or so. I have found that many of my fellow parishioners and friends have been questioning why we stay in a church that is filled with abuse of power, a disconnect from its faithful, and an unwavering commitment to antiquated thoughts and practices that only succeed in keeping good people from serving in a meaningful way.

I was speaking with a friend last night and we lamented that after identifying yourself as a Catholic to someone who doesn’t know you, you have to do a lot of backpedaling and assert that you believe in the power of the laity, the value of women, and probably in the idea that a priest can and should marry if he (and hopefully, SHE, at some point) so chooses. We are assumed to be monolithic in our identity and beliefs, and that is just not the case.

I remember being a little girl and my mother showing me pictures of a friend of hers from high school, Sister Leonore, nee Noreen. Sister Leonore worked for years in Africa trying to bring education and hope to an impoverished people. Her work was endless, and for all I know, she’s still there. She entered the convent out of a desire, I assume, to make the world a better place for people who had little and lacked the basic necessities of life. Yes, she probably wanted also to convert them to the faith, as missionaries are charged to do while working with the poor. But every once in a while I think of a young woman who devoted herself to the poor while still a teenager and wonder if it was hard for her to do so, knowing that the leaders of our church have always lived in opulence and grandeur while sending their minions to the ends of the earth, all in the name of God.

Then I think about a family from our church who took their three children and went to South America to be missionaries. They stayed for several years before returning to our lovely Village, having done what they considered ‘the Lord’s work.” When I see them at church, I look at them with awe. They are ordinary people, just like the rest of us in the pews, but answered to a higher calling.

And recently, a group of high schoolers from our local high school went to Nicaragua and built houses in a small village. This was the third year they went on this trip. Many come back saying they feel “changed,” but unable to express what that really means.

I have never really identified with the church hierarchy because I have never felt that they inform my faith. I’m sure that that statement alone is probably considered heresy. As a friend last night pointed out, they are almost like Goldman Sachs in terms of bureaucracy, and now, abuse of power. Interestingly, while I am aghast at what they are purported to have done, I don’t see them as part of my “church.” I see them as ordinary people who have ascended to power and who are completely disconnected from the everyday Catholic, those of us in the pews. Sister Leonore, the family from church, and the high schoolers, however? They are the “church.” They are the people living their faith. And they are the people I want to follow and emulate.

But don’t take my word for it. Read Nicholas Kristof’s essay from this past Sunday’s New York Times entitled “A Church Mary Can Love,” in which he discusses the people doing the hard work, the work that, as Catholics, we are implored to do. Because we are a faith built on a foundation of social justice and many of the people executing the work of a man who lived many centuries ago are…wait for it…women. The same women who are not allowed to celebrate Mass, become deacons, and who have been relegated for hundreds of year to a supporting role—at best—in the Church doings. Along with the people mentioned above, these women are transforming the world, one act of kindness at a time.

So, to my fellow Catholics out there whose heads droop lower and lower by the day with each passing news report on new abuses and new scandals, I say: deal with your anger. Channel your anger into doing good and changing people’s perceptions as to what Catholics are and what Catholics do. Do what we were implored to do all those centuries ago: Love thy neighbor. If you do nothing else, it’s still more than enough.

Maggie Barbieri

Great Grandkids and Sports

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This past weekend, my daughter and hubby drove their motor home from California with their two of their granddaughters to a big track meet in Arizona.

Years ago, both their son and daughter participated in both the shot put and discus events in high school track.

Now their son’s daughters who are both in middle school are doing great in these two events.

The younger one with the darker hair made first place in discus. The older one came in fifth but there were 43 others competing. So I’d say that was pretty good.

Grandpa (my son-in-law) has been coaching these two whenever he has been around to do so.

Needless to say, my daughter and son and law are pleased as can be.

Great-grandma and pa are pretty proud too. We don’t get to see these kids as much as we’d like to as they live rather far away. Even though we’re all in California, it’s a long drive. Thank goodness for the Internet and the ability to send messages and photos.

Okay, I won’t brag about great-grandkids anymore–at least not for awhile.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

The Good Stuff in the News!

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I’m ready to spend some time talking about “Good News.” Let’s talk heroes, good deeds, major accomplishments, and random acts of kindness.

I was impressed this week with the story of the James King who found the missing eleven-year-old-girl in the Florida swamp. He said God led him straight through the mud, thigh-high waters, alligators, and dense vegetation to Nadia Bloom. Nadia has Asperger’s Syndrome and had been missing four days. Since during the last ten years or so, I’ve become very cynical, my first thought was not to praise the rescuer but to want an full accounting of his whereabouts in the days leading up to him “finding” the child. The thing about enjoying “good news” is you have to be willing to accept it at face value. So until it’s proven otherwise, I’m willing to accept this as a miracle and a selfless act by a concerned citizen who had nothing to do with the girl’s disappearance.

Actor Sean Penn continues to be relentless in his quest to save lives in Haiti. Rainy season is almost here and survivors are still living without real tents in areas where mudslides will almost certainly occur. Like his movies or not, he cares about the world.

L.A. Lakers player Pau Gasol gave up some time to make a 4-year-old fan, Ezra Frech very happy. Ezra was born with malformed limbs on his left side. He has an artificial leg that allows him to play basketball. He loves, loves, loves basketball. And he’s very good at it!

On a personal note – my good news is that as of last week I’ve finished with surgery on both eyes and can now drive without contact lens or glasses! Alas, reading and working on the computer will still require corrective lenses of some kind. I’ve got a dozen pairs of drugstore reading glasses in various strengths that I’m using until I’m cleared by the surgeon to visit the optometrist.

What’s your favorite “good news?”

Rhonda (wearing a 2.0 magnification for computer work).
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David