Lori’s Book Sense ~ November

Lori's Reading Corner

I’m doing things a little different this month. I have just one book I am going to share with you. The reason being is that it is, hands down, one of the best books I’ve ever read! And it wouldn’t be fair to any other book I happen to recommend in the same space.  The only problem is (for the rest of you) is that the book doesn’t come out until January 31st.

Andy Barber has been an assistant district attorney in his suburban Massachusetts county for more than twenty years. He is respected in his community, tenacious in the courtroom, and happy at home with his wife, Laurie, and son, Jacob. But when a shocking crime shatters their New England town, Andy is blindsided by what happens next: His fourteen-year-old son is charged with the murder of a fellow student.

Every parental instinct Andy has rallies to protect his boy. Jacob insists that he is innocent, and Andy believes him. Andy must. He’s his father. But as damning facts and shocking revelations surface, as a marriage threatens to crumble and the trial intensifies, as the crisis reveals how little a father knows about his son, Andy will face a trial of his own—between loyalty and justice, between truth and allegation, between a past he’s tried to bury and a future he cannot conceive.
 

When I closed the last page of this book, I sat there and went “woah”.  I couldn’t believe the journey the story that I had just read had taken me on. The story is that of a Andy Barber, an ADA in Massachusetts, who decides not to assign another prosecutor the case of a fourteen-year-old boy found murdered in a local park, but to prosecute it himself, despite the fact that others feel he should step down since his son went to the same school as the victim. He doesn’t feel there is a conflict of interest, as his son claims not to have known the murdered boy. But, when his son is arrested and charged with the murder, Andy is forced to step down from the case and suddenly finds himself on the other side of the courtroom.
This book deals with issues of nature vs nurture, and how much your upbringing vs your DNA factor in to the person you become. Can the sins of your families past (nature) become the person of your present, even if you never knew about them (nurture)?  How blinded can you be when looking at your children? Do you really only see what you want to see? Does unconditional love truly know no bounds?

What follows is an emotional story that is part courtroom thriller, part mystery, and part family drama. All of which combine to create an emotionally packed tale of one families struggle to not only believe in their child, and what’s he’s told them, but to find a way to save him, and their family unit. At any cost.
I’ll have my full review up on my blog soon, so make sure to look for it.  In the mean time, pre-order this book – TODAY! I promise, you won’t be disappointed.

You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out

By Laura Bradford

If you’ve ever seen the movie, A Christmas Story, you know that Ralphie wanted a Red Ryder BB Gun in the worst way. It didn’t matter how many people told him he’d shoot his eye out. He wanted one. Plain and simple.

So Santa did what all good Black Friday shoppers do…

He obliged.

Now, for the sake of today’s post, we’re going to set aside Ralphie’s Life Lesson (remember the incident in the back yard after he got his prized Red Ryder BB Gun???) for just a moment and take a peek back at some of the toys that had Santa rushing to the store for me back in the day (and the Life Lesson I invariably learned frome each one)…

When I was about three-years-old, I apparently wanted a baby doll of my own. So Santa obliged, bringing me one that cried when it was squeezed. I–being the placid child I was– freaked when I went to hug my new baby and it began to cry.

Santa must not  have liked my reaction because he took it back to the North Pole, sending me a new slip in its place. (Life Lesson: Sometimes fear is best kept to one’s self)

Then, when I was a few years older (I’m thinking maybe 7 or so), I wanted a Baby That-A-Way in the worst way. And how could I not?!? The commercials that played over…and over…and over again during the months leading up to Christmas made her look so cool. I mean, she could crawl!!!!  Crawl, I tell you!!
That Christmas morning, I raced downstairs to find my Baby That-A-Way waiting under the tree! I flipped on her switch, set her down, and watched her crawl across the room…sounding like a coffee grinder–as my older brother so happily pointed out–the whole way. (Life Lesson: Sometimes boys can be so stupid) 

Who could resist the idea of baking something all by yourself?? Not I, says the eight-year-old me. So the EZ Bake Oven was the request of the year that Christmas. My first concoction? A yellow cake with chocolate frosting that I slaved over for a good thirty minutes or so…only to have my grandfather eat it in one bite. ONE BITE!!!!  (Life Lesson: It’s okay to have a stash of treats and not tell anyone)

And then there was Growing Up Skipper. You know, the sister (or was it, niece?) of Barbie who grew boobs with the pump of her arm. She was the “it” present when I was about 11 or 12, I think. After the fascination of watching her boobs appear and disappear began to wear off, Skipper became rather depressing over time.  (Life Lesson: Pumping one’s arm again and again and again doesn’t work for all girls)

Now it’s your turn. What were some of your must-have toys…and the lessons you learned from them??

~Laura

Thanksgiving!

by Maria Geraci

Happy Turkey Day everyone! I hope your day is filled with good food, good company and many blessings. I’ll be spending today with my family in central Florida right here. Yep, just a hop, skip and jump from Disney World, shopping, and lots of golf (for the guys), so everyone will be happy.

Despite the fact that I won’t be home, I’ll still start out my Thanksgiving morning the same way I have for decades. By watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV!

Now, I love parades, but there is no finer parade than the Macy’s parade and Thanksgiving without it would be like… well, like a Thanksgiving day without turkey. So I thought it would be fun to dig up a few parade stats.

For example, did you know that:

The first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade was in 1924 and was actually called the Macy’s Christmas Day parade (although it was on Thanksgiving Day).

The first parade featured real live animals from the Central Park Zoo (no big animal balloons!)

The parade was cancelled in 1942, 1943 and 1944 due to WWII.

In 1927, Macy’s introduced their world famous giant helium balloons. The first balloons were of Felix the cat and the toy soldier.

Macy’s is the world’s second largest consumer of helium. The US government is the first (for some strange reason, I find this fascinating).

Originally, the giant balloons were released in the air at the end of the parade. The balloons had a “return label” on them and anyone who found one and returned it to Macy’s, received a prize.
In 1932, an aviator almost crashed his plane after attempting to catch the Cat balloon. As a result of this near disaster, the parade discontinued the practice of releasing the balloons.

Due to a helium shortage in 1958, the balloons were brought down Broadway on cranes.

Santa Claus closes out the parade every year, except in 1933 when he led the parade, but my favorite part of the parade is without doubt, Snoopy!

It’s Raining on My Car

or 
Why I’m Thankful
by Bethany Maines

So it’s the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house…  Yeah, Thanksgiving eve doesn’t quite have the same storied tradition as Christmas, does it? The kids don’t get giggly in excitement waiting for the giant turkey to burst out of the oven and give them the gifts of candied yams. (Although, now that I mention it, how fun would that be?) 
Not that the night before Thanksgiving doesn’t have traditions. There’s the frenzied run to the store.  The scrambling for some sort of dinner because the entire refrigerator is jammed with Thanksgiving food. The eating of the sacrificial pumpkin pie (ok, maybe that one’s just me). And of course, since it’s Thanksgiving in the Pacific Northwest there’s a down pour of rain. And now apparently, at my house, there’s the tradition of re-roofing the carport. Frankly, I was expecting more baking and less hammering with my Thanksgiving. But as my husband and I were discussing the additional strain on the budget, and the seriously lame prospect of roofing in the rain I realized something. While it is a serious inconvenience to be relocating all the cabinetry for our upcoming bathroom remodel to middle of the kitchen, well, we have a kitchen. And a bathroom. And a living room. And bedrooms. None of which are leaking. 
When my husband and I moved into our house, we’d spent a month sprucing it up, painting, and remodeling. Then, the night after we officially moved in, I was, shall we say, “released on my own recognizance,” a victim of our new economic reality. I was more than a bit concerned that we were going to lose the house. And now, a little over two years later, I’m worried about the car-port roof leaking like a colander. You know what? I’ll take it. 
The economy has pushed a lot of people who thought they were safe to the brink and every day more people lose their jobs or visit a food bank that never thought they’d be in that situation. The fact that my husband and I aren’t among them is purely due to the grace of God, unemployment and the unending support of our family and friends. So if the night before Christmas is for hoping for presents, then the night before Thanksgiving must be for counting your blessings. I know I’ve been given a boatload of them, including a great virtual group of friends here on the Stiletto Gang.  So to all of you out there in internet land, thanks for being part of my world. I hope you are all safe, fed, and with your loved ones.

Remember when I said…

by: Joelle Charbonneau

Ok, so remember a couple of weeks ago?  I said I didn’t use recipes when I cook.  Well, for the most part that is true.  Of course, I make exceptions to that rule when I bake because – well, baking is more of a science.  No recipe means flat cookies, dense cakes and not so tasty treats.  Does that mean I always follow the recipe to the letter of the law?  I confess that I tend to add a sprinkle of this and a dash of that just for kicks. 

Because I am so thankful for all of you, I am going to share one of my favorite recipes.  I promise it is easy to make and tastes amazing.  AND – it makes your house smell divine when it bakes.  If you haven’t decided on what dessert you’re going to have after the turkey on Thursday (besides pumpkin pie – because you have to have pumpkin pie) give this one a whirl.  You won’t be disappointed.

Apple Cinnamon Cheesecake
Crust:

1cup crushed graham crackers

3-4 TB butter

3 TB sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

Cheese mixture:

 2 packes of cream cheese – softened

1/2 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla

2 eggs

Topping:

 4 large granny smith apples sliced thin

1/3 cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 cup halved pecans

Preheat oven to 350

Mix graham crackers, melted butter, sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. Press mixture into a 9″ spring pan. Bake for 10 minutes.

Mix cream cheese, sugar and vanilla together. Add eggs one at a time – beat until creamy. Pour mixture on top of crust.

Toss apples, sugar and cinnamon together. Place on top of cheese mixture. Sprinkle pecans on top.

Bake for 70 minutes. Remove from oven and use a knife around the edge. Wait for the cake to cool before releasing the spring pan. Chill before serving. Enjoy!

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.  I can’t tell you how thankful I am to be allowed to call the readers and writers of this blog my friends.  Have a blessed and happy holiday week.  Much love to each and every one of you.

Let Us Give Thanks

One year, my third son was to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah on the Saturday following Thanksgiving. A Bar Mitzvah is a Jewish rite of passage and marks the moment when a 13-year old boy is considered an adult member of the congregation. (A Bat Mitzvah is the ritual for girls). It’s a religious ceremony where the youngster leads prayers at the Sabbath morning service, usually followed by a luncheon for family and friends at the synagogue. We then planned to invite guests to our home for coffee and dessert and hold a party for kids later that night. But even with keeping everything relatively low-key, you can imagine that there was a fair amount of work involved, plus out-of-town guests to feed, cooking, baking, readying the house…you get the picture. I tell this story because that year I suggested to my immediate family that we eat out at a restaurant on Thanksgiving.

This was followed by dead silence.

And that was followed by an explosion of surprise and dismay. The concept of eating Thanksgiving anywhere but in our home, with the traditional turkey and trimmings, was absolutely appalling to my husband and kids. It was Thanksgiving, didn’t I know that? Was I suggesting that we each make our own peanut butter sandwich for the main course? Why not go through the drive-through at McDonald’s? (Actually that didn’t sound like such a bad idea to the five-year old.)

As it happens, I’m not a huge turkey fan. I could, and often have, made a meal of the stuffing, side dishes, and of course, desserts. Nonetheless the family wanted the whole shebang. But what I realized is that while they wanted the traditional foods on the table, they mostly wanted the traditions they associated with our family’s celebration. While no one should be a slave to tradition, part of family glue is to do certain things the same way every year, building a treasure trove of family memories.

A couple of years later, we journeyed out-of-town to have Thanksgiving with extended family. The food was superb, but when we came home, my kids clamored for “our own” Thanksgiving. And so, the Friday after Turkey Day, we had another traditional T-Day meal, although this one was one of those supermarket deals where we got the bird, stuffing, sides, two kinds of pies, gravy, and cranberry sauce, all for $50. And the hubby and kids slurped up every last crumb. But what everyone remembers, besides the fact that we ate two banquets in a row, is that, as in years past, we went around the table and shared the blessings of our lives, we laughed, we teased, we had fun, we were “us.”

I know that our expressions of thanks should never be limited to one day a year. Still I’m happy to take a moment out of our busy lives to say aloud to those I love how very grateful I am for my life with an extraordinary family and incomparable friends. I am blessed indeed.

From both halves of Evelyn David, and all members of the Stiletto Gang, best wishes for a happy holiday full of joy and peace. Please share your favorite Thanksgiving memory – sweet, funny, poignant, you choose.

And may I add my thanks to the anonymous author who wrote of Thanksgiving:

The thing I’m most thankful for right now is elastic waistbands.

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

—————–

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- KindleNookSmashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- KindleNookSmashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- KindleNookSmashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- KindleNookSmashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords
Lottawatah Twister – KindleNookSmashwords
Missing in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords

Sullivan Investigations Mystery – e-book series
Murder Off the Books KindleNookSmashwords
Murder Takes the Cake KindleNookSmashwords
Riley Come Home (short story)- KindleNookSmashwords

Romances
Love Lessons – KindleNookSmashwords

The Word Thief

by Susan McBride

I’ve been reading with interest information regarding the latest case of plagiarism in the literary world.  A novelist named Quentin Rowan writing as Q.R. Markham has admitted to stealing passages from various novels in order to compose Assassin of Secrets, a modern day James Bond-type book published recently by Little, Brown & Company.

Once caught, Quentin wrote a letter to one of the authors whose words he stole, trying to explain. Here’s a bit from his email to spy novelist Jeremy Duns, rationalizing away (or is that irrationalizing?):

“Once the book was bought, I had to make major changes in quite a hurry, basically re-write the whole thing from scratch, and that’s when things really got out of hand for me. I just didn’t feel capable of writing the kinds of scenes and situations that were asked of me in the time allotted and rather than saying I couldn’t do it, or wasn’t capable, I started stealing again. I didn’t want to be seen as anything other than a writing machine, I guess. Some call it ‘people pleasing.’ Anyway, the more I did it, the deeper into denial I went, until it felt as if I had two brains at war with each other.”

A tiny piece of me feels sorry for the guy.  Having been under the deadline gun dozens of times myself, I understand the sense of pressure.  But to resort to plagiarizing?  Honestly, my only response is WTF???

It isn’t easy writing a book, and it never gets easier.  I have the utmost respect for writers who sit down and compose a draft, accept the editorial letters they in turn receive requesting changes, and sit down again to revise like a madman (or woman).  It’s what we do, and we learn to bite the bullet and get it done because that’s the only way we’re going to write the best damned book we can write.

What a cop out it is to hear someone say, “But revising was too hard!  I couldn’t do it!  I had no choice but to borrow words that other authors slaved over and tweaked and revised.”

Am I crazy, or does it sound even more complicated to plagiarize?  I can’t imagine having to read through book after book, locating specific passages that would fit into the scenes I’m working on, and do that enough times to complete a 300-page manuscript. Yipes. I think I’ll stick to what comes out of my own brain, thank you very much.

I know I sound mean–I’m feeling a little like Simon Cowell here–but the literary world seems to be taking quite a beating lately and I hate seeing another scandal that detracts from all the good stuff going on. My advice for Mr. Rowan: If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the publishing kitchen.

If you can’t write your own books and you can’t conjure up descriptions and narrative and dialogue from your own imagination, please ask for a ghost writer.  Look at the Kardashian sisters, Lauren Conrad, Hilary Duff, that mom and daughter team on “Selling New York,” or Snooki, for Pete’s sake.  They don’t write their own novels either.  Their publisher pays someone else to do it for them.  Someone who (hopefully) doesn’t resort to stealing other authors’ words.

The Art of Being Crafty


Where did November go? As I write this, we have just crossed over the half-way point of the month, which means next week is Thanksgiving and after that, it’s all over. As in, the downhill slide toward Christmas begins.

Every year, sometime in mid-summer (you know, when all those clever shop keepers begin their “Christmas in July” promotions) I make a vow that this is the Christmas in which I will finally have my act together. My house will be spotlessly clean, closets organized, pantry shelves will be stocked (and labeled!), Yuletide decorations will be abundant (yet tasteful). Although this seems like enough to keep anyone busy, this Pioneer Woman fantasy of mine is not complete without my annual Christmas Holiday craft.

I don’t know when (or why or even how) this tradition started because my own mother is not particularly crafty. With the exception of the one lone holiday season she decided to make homemade candles as gifts and turned our family den into a candle factory. No joke. I remember she used all sorts of everyday household items as “molds” like milk cartons, and empty soup cans, stuff like that. I also remember a lot of glitter being involved and this was great fun for my sister and I who were probably about 9 or 10 at the time.

After the Big Candle Christmas (as I lovingly refer to that year) Mom gave up on being crafty around the holidays. “Too much stress,” she said. That obviously didn’t sink in because every year around this time I start to plan my big “craft” and while a part of me knows that starting the Big Craft in mid-November is probably too late, I still do it anyway.

In previous years, my Big Craft have included: making hand sewn Angels for the top of the Christmas tree (got this idea from a woman’s magazine), jingle bell necklaces, hand made Christmas Cards (none got sent out because I couldn’t finish them in time and February seemed a tad too late) and personalized gift baskets (that ended up costing me a fortune). So, while a part of me knows that the Big Craft is in some ways, doomed, I can’t help myself from starting one each year.

This year the Big Craft is personalized painted cloth canvas rugs also known as floorcloths. I drool over these every time I see them in a store and vow that I will start making them myself. I mean, if Martha can do it, then why can’t I?

How about you? Any big craft plans this holiday?

Lowering Your Expectations

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I have had the pleasure of hosting the past several dinners here at Chez Barbieri.  This year, we will play host to hubby’s family—twelve of us in all—and perhaps a friend and her family for dessert.  My turkey is known in the family for its moistness and fabulous flavor, success attributed to the brining process that takes several days.  My mashed potatoes are laden with butter, garlic, and sea salt, and although not the same recipe as the one that comes from Jim’s family, a crowd pleaser nonetheless.  I apparently also make great green beans, and for Jim’s brother-in-law and me, I make roasted brussel sprouts, a dish no one else would touch with a ten-foot pole but which he and I love.

I guess I’m what you would call a pretty serious home cook.  It is the rare dish that requires me to follow a recipe and I’ve become more adept over the years with complicated vegetarian dishes in order for child #1, an avowed non-meat eater, to get the nutrients she needs.  Baking is not really my forte, but only because I don’t like to measure and child #1 works at a bakery.  Problem solved.  There is one thing, however, that I’ve never mastered and that is gravy.  Can’t do it.  Have tried and failed repeatedly. And there’s nothing worse at a Thanksgiving meal than putting out an entire meal and then standing over the stove attempting to get the proper amount of roux to make a thick, but not gelatinous, gravy.  There’s something about the preparation of gravy that makes me anxious, and I think that’s because gravy is a staple of many meals, Thanksgiving being the most important.  My entire culinary reputation is riding on it and that’s just not a chance I’m willing to take.

I tried for years to make the right gravy, standing beside my mother and mother-in-law, watching what they did and trying to replicate it.  It just doesn’t work.  So, for the past few years—and with full disclosure to my holiday guests—I buy gravy at the local gourmet store where it is made fresh from the turkeys that they roast and which I serve it in my china gravy boat.  It’s delicious and the right consistency every time and all I’m required to do is heat it up.  Voila!  Perfect gravy.
Maybe it’s age, or maybe it’s just that my usual perfectionism just doesn’t translate to pan drippings, but I’ve decided that I’m going to make things easier on myself in order to enjoy the holiday. I’ve also decided the same will be true for writing because no matter how many times I decide I’m going to write the perfect first draft, trying to follow some self-created recipe for writing, it doesn’t happen.  (I bet you didn’t think I could connect gravy and writing but YOU’D BE WRONG!) You’d think after six books, I’d be smarter and know that the perfect first draft is an urban legend, kind of like the multi-city author tour or the alligator that lives in the New York City sewer system.  Or that everyone can cook gravy.

Starting a book without a roux—which is basically an outline or some kind of detailed plot diagram—is pretty scary but it is something I do every time I write a book.  (I’ve only written one outline in the past decade and it’s for a book I’ve yet to write.  We’ll see how that goes.)  It usually works out ok, though, with me figuring out halfway in whodunit and why.  The problem I have is that I hate every word I’ve written before I sit down to write again and I want to revise everything, every day, before I start again, kind of like how I always mess with the home-cooked gravy until it is the aforementioned gelatinous mess.  I can’t leave well enough alone.  This kind of self-critique, I’ve found, is detrimental to the process and just slows things down.  So with this latest book—the seventh in the Murder 101 series—I’ve just taken off the breaks, or to continue with the metaphor, bought the store-bought gravy, and am just dumping everything from my head into the gravy boat and figuring out how to make it work later. (I know…the metaphor is getting a little thing, but stick with me.)
So far, so good.  I have about 40,000 words to write to finish this book—piece of cake!  But lowering my expectations about what constitutes perfection has been a great lesson for me.  Interesting that after writing for all these many years, I’m still learning new things with every book.  I don’t have to make perfect gravy and I don’t have to write perfect first drafts.  That’s what the delete key is for.  What about you?  Anything to share on the topic of the perfect first draft?  Gravy?  Thanksgiving?  Let it fly!

Oh, and in honor of the release of PHYSICAL EDUCATION next Tuesday, one lucky commenter will be chosen at random (my cat will do the picking) to win a signed copy. 

Maggie Barbieri

Planning for Thanksgiving

It’s my turn to do Thanksgiving Dinner once again. Last year we traveled to Southern California to our youngest daughter’s big, beautiful house and I didn’t have to do a thing. Plus I got to spend time with grandchildren I don’t have the opportunity to be with very often. When I go down there, I miss out on sharing Thanksgiving with the family that lives nearby.

Everyone who knows me, knows I really enjoy cooking. Turkey is one of the easiest things there is to do and have come out delicious. If everyone comes I’ve invited, we’ll have a crowd, and this year I’m asking everyone to bring something so I don’t have to do it all.

I have much to be thankful for. I’ve had no major health problems and my hubby (and best friend) of 60 years, though he’s slowed down considerably, is doing well health-wise too. I’ve been blessed with a big family, many grandchildren and great grands. No, things don’t always go smoothly, do they ever with a big family? We have drama at times, but I’ve learned not to get too excited, or worried. Praying works far better.

As for my writing, I’ve had over thirty books published and I still enjoy doing it and am thrilled when a new one comes out. I like promoting because I love making new friends–and I’ve made many over the years, other writers and readers. We’ve had the opportunity to travel to places we’d have never thought of going to thanks to mystery conferences. Together we went to Hawaii when I was invited to be an instructor at the Maui Writers Retreat. Alone I went to Alaska twice and made good friends with a Native family that I’m still in touch with. Being a writer has offered me many opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise, and I’m thankful for that.

Back to the dinner, now it’s time to plan my shopping list and decide exactly what I’ll be cooking and what I’ll ask others to bring. There are certain things I always make–everyone loves dressing, and there are a few including me who want candied sweet potatoes, and there are the kids who think it isn’t Thanksgiving unless we have the green bean casserole. What about you? What has to be on your menu?

Marilyn