Christmas the Movie Way

Christmas Strikes Back

A few years ago, I became interested in scriptwriting. Like many people, I assumed that after a lifetime of watching movies that writing them couldn’t be that hard.  I’ll pause here for your laughter to die down.  Specifically, I was interested in Christmas movies and why they sucked.  Which is unfair, one person’s terminally bland Christmas movie is another person’s soothing blankie that keeps the holiday season from emerging from under the bed and devouring them whole.  I didn’t want gritty reality Christmas, but I did want something more.  And since that didn’t exist, I set out to write it myself.

Cookies for Christmas

On the whole, I enjoy Christmas movies, but the problems arise from the Hallmark rules that keep Hallmark movies on brand — no cancer or dying, celebrate small towns, low stakes, etc.  I get why those movies exist.  Viewers want a sugar cookie movie, not a complicated dessert.  But I didn’t understand why we couldn’t have Christmas stories with a little more… ass kicking.  You see, I also love action movies — they are an excellent chocolate chip cookie of a movie.  (Which is why I also stand firm in my belief that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, but that’s a topic for another blog.)   So over the last several years, I’ve explored how to make the perfect Christmas cookie.  They have all the sugar, fluff, and icing, but sometimes you need a few chocolate chunks and nuts.  And I’ve accumulated three novellas worth of Christmas desserts.

Christmas Traditions

The challenge to writing a Christmas crime story was in finding the right mix of romance, holiday tropes, and humor to make people feel both awwww Christmas and Yippe-kai-yay MFers!  This required research and I dutifully watched, Die Hard, It’s a Wonderful Life, Lethal Weapon, and White Christmas as well as many others.  And OK, I also took a few classes on writing Hallmark and Christmas movies.  But popcorn and couch time is way more fun than studying and learning from experts. So if you’re looking for a Christmas story that feels a little more hefty, but still hits that sugar craving, check out The Christmas Carols.

The Christmas Carols

Blue Christmas: Buy NowGET IT FOR FREE

Blue Jones just stole Jake Garner’s dog. And his heart. But technically the French Bulldog, Jacques, belongs to Jake’s ex-girlfriend. And soon Jake is being pressured to return the dog and Blue is being targeted by mysterious attackers. Can Jake find Blue and Jacques before her stalkers do? For Blue, Christmas has never been quite so dangerous. For Jake, Christmas has never been quite so Blue.

Oh Holy Night: Buy Now

Graphic designer Violet Harper is usually found at her local Starbucks. Handsome Roman Knox is usually carrying a gun. But tonight they’re both in a bank and there’s a body on the floor. It’s a mess, a robbery and almost the worst day ever, but maybe a Christmas miracle can get them out of the bank and into love.

Winter Wonderland: Buy Now

When Marcus Winters, a photographer with a bah humbug take on the holidays, meets Larissa Frost, a set designer who loves all things Christmas, sparks are destined to fly. But when a famous diamond goes missing from the shoot they’re working on Larissa finds that Marcus may be the only one who can keep her from being framed for a crime she didn’t commit.

Or get all three Christmas Carols in hardback: https://amzn.to/3Uj9PLh

Like your chocolate chips, but not at Christmas?

Try out the 12 Knights of Christmas anthology from Buttonhall Publishing featuring 12 delightful tales of Christmas, including my story “Carol of the Bells.” These stories are all romantic and certified sugar sweetness. (Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and as an audiobook.)  BUY NOW: https://books2read.com/12Knights

 

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Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of action-adventure and fantasy tales that focus on women who know when to apply lipstick and when to apply a foot to someone’s hind end. She participates in many activities, including swearing, karate, art, and yelling at the news. She can usually be found chasing after her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel (or screenplay). You can also catch up with her on TwitterFacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

And don’t forget to check out all the books from The Stiletto Gang: Books

Guest – Award-Winning Author – Catriona McPherson

Book Cover with Easter BasketToday we welcome back the lovely and uber-talented Catriona McPherson who has stopped by to share a bit about her soon to be released book, SCOT’S EGGS. Catriona is an Agatha, Anthony, Lefty, and Macavity Award-Winning Author.

And Kirkus Reviews says this book has it all: “a loopy, lovable Northern California crew … a baffling double murder … a brisk, clever whodunit

We can’t wait to hear about this latest book in the Lexy Campbell Last Ditch series. Take it away, Catriona! 

As Scot’s Eggs opens, it’s Easter morning and Lexy is finding out – yet again – that she’s not needed on the nest.

I love writing the Monster-of-the-Week plots, each one more ludicrous than the last, but even more than that I love writing the long arc of the character development for the Last Ditch Motel crew. Especially Lexy. I had her falling in love at Valentine’s and then marrying at the Midsummer Solstice, so it would have made sense to have her pregnant at Easter, season of fecundity, effulgence and general burgeoning.

But these are comedies, so instead I’ve made her beginning to worry that she’s left it a bit late and it might never happen. What’s funny about that, you might be asking. Well, for a start, Lexy’s best friend Todd has no boundaries. Here’s a scene from early in the book. Lexy is in the shower and Todd is . . . visiting:

‘And . . . don’t get all uppity and start telling me I’m overstepping,’ Todd said, ‘but I don’t think you should assume it’s you. I’ve seen Taylor’s underwear. I mean, I tried to block it out for crimes against style but also it’s not healthy. So I’ve put some super-drapey satin boxers in his top drawer and removed the offending items. But still, you should send him to have a sperm test.’

‘He’s twenty-nine,’ I said. ‘I’m thirty-seven. And what on earth made you think I’d see this as over-stepping?’

‘Oh,’ said Todd. ‘Well, good. I just never know with you. But to your main point. Investigating your fertility is invasive and expensive. Given that your cycle is regular and you’re tuned into it, and given that Taylor can find out how his guys are after ten fun minutes with a magazine, it makes sense to dot that i first.’

‘And you’re basing the notion that my cycle is regular on . . .’

‘The fact that I gave you a link to an ovulation app months ago and you would have told me if it wasn’t.’

‘Right,’ I said, turning off the water. ‘No overstepping there.’

Also, I’ve got a lot of experience of infertility, and black humour was essential to counteract the hormones and disappointment. My God, those hormones. There was a time when my dad and I were taking exactly the same cocktail, he to treat prostate cancer and I to get to a baseline and let the doctors start with a clean slate. We were each as touchy and weepy as the other. If my mum and my husband hadn’t been able to laugh they’d have beaten us to a pulp and gone out drinking. In the end the treatment kept my dad healthy for over twenty years. Me? Nine rounds of IUI/IVF after which I had no kids and no money. See? Black humour is the only way.

But the thing I really needed jokes for was to do battle with people’s cluelessness. Some of it was kindly meant. “Get yourself a great big rose quartz crystal” was one I’ll never forget. “Okay,” I said. “And do I still need Neil? Or will the crystal do everything?”

“Oh my God, I get pregnant if he looks at me across the room!” was harder to believe came from a helpful place. How did I deal with that one? Once I said, “Ah well, nobody gets everything.” And then left them wondering what I thought they lacked. Another time when I said nothing at all in response to a near stranger gloating about her good luck and my bad, she followed up with “Sorry. I just say whatever I’m thinking.” “Not me,” I told her. “I’m not saying anything close to what I’m thinking, right this minute.” Someone else at the party choked on their drink trying not to laugh, which helped.

Isn’t it weird? The only other thing I’ve come across that makes people boast about their superior fortune is insomnia. Ever noticed that? If someone says they have trouble sleeping, it’s the cue for someone else to say, “Oh I’m gone as soon as my head hits the pillow. I could sleep on a knife.” It’s a wonder no one ever asks them to prove it.

Imagine if that happened with breast cancer. “I’ve just had a double mastectomy.” “Ho-ho, not me. Look at these puppies!” To quote Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, “People eat blood sausage, Rita. People are morons.”

But the most frequent clueless remark encountered when you’re childless not by choice is . . . Can you guess? I’ll give a clue. I seriously considered writing a little etiquette book called Yes, We’ve Considered Adoption. It was wild the number of women – always women – who truly believed they’d solved a fertility problem for me, five minutes after meeting me at a party or other event. I composed a range of responses:

“Adoption? Oh my God! You’re a genius. Excuse me, I need to go and tell Neil.”

“We did adopt once but they were ugly so we sold them.”

“We failed the screening process.”

That last one was particularly ideal if their children were running around. And you know what really stewed my prunes? If there were men present, the subject never came up. In fact, Neil has never been asked a follow-up question to the “Do you have kids?” opener in his jammy wee life. Hmph.

Anyway, I found it just as much fun to write Lexy’s conception woes as I thought I would. All I need to do now is toss a coin and decide whether it’s going to work out for her or if she’s going to go down the same road as me. I must admit, it wasn’t fun and chuckles right to the end. Maybe I’ll knock her up. It’s nice to be in charge, I must say.

A bit more about the book:

It’s egg-hunt season, but Lexy’s spending Easter hunting a killer!

Not even Cuento’s Easter bonnet parade can distract Lexy Campbell from fertility woes and missing tourists Bill and Billie Miller. The Millers’ vintage Mustang has been abandoned, its interior covered in blood.

Is this a double murder, and if so, where are the bodies? Why were the Millers spending the night in their car? Did they pitch up at the Last Ditch Motel only to be turned away? Are they really dead? Trinity for Trouble are on the case!

As they start to identify the guests staying at the motel the weekend before Easter – including a Goth and a barbershop singer on stilts – disturbing evidence comes to light. Can Lexy see though all the deception to unmask the truth and save the Last Ditch?

Reminder: The book comes out December 2nd but is available for pre-order now. 

Photo author Catriona McPhersonAnd bit more about Catriona:

Catriona McPherson (she/her) was born in Scotland and immigrated to the US in 2010. A former linguistics professor, she is now a full-time fiction writer and has published: preposterous 1930s private-detective stories about a toff; realistic 1940s amateur-sleuth stories about an oik; and contemporary psychothriller standalones. These are all set in Scotland with a lot of Scottish weather. She also writes modern comic crime capers about a Scot-out-of-water in a “fictional” college town in Northern California sneezedavissneeze.

Catriona is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime.

For more about her and her books, check out her website at:  www.catrionamcpherson.com

 

Procrastinating with Meat Loaf

Every now and again I have what I call one of my “Agatha Christie Days”—and by that I don’t mean channeling my inner Hercule Poirot, but rather attempting to follow Dame Agatha’s sage advice, which is “to write even when you don’t want to, don’t much like what you’re writing, and aren’t writing particularly well.”

Anyway, I was working on Before There Were Skeletons, Book 4 in my Marketville Mystery series, or more accurately, sitting at my desk, staring at a flashing curser and a blank page, the radio playing softly in the background, when a song came on that changed everything. Oh, not right away—that would have been too easy. But it did allow me one of the best gifts a writer can ask for:

Procrastination in the name of research.

The song was Paradise by the Dashboard Light by the late Marvin Lee Aday, better known as Meat Loaf. Included in his 1977 bestselling album, Bat Out of Hell, the song has remained a cult favorite for decades. At the time, however, it would have been revolutionary, and as luck would have it, my protagonist, Calamity (Callie) Barnstable was in the midst of researching the disappearance of a pregnant seventeen-year-old who disappeared in Toronto in the spring of 1978.

It might be a stretch to call a song coming on the radio an omen, but it was certainly enough to get me googling “Meat Loaf concerts 1978.” And here my luck continued. Turns out that Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell concert tour took him to Toronto’s Massey Hall on Friday, April 21, 1978. A bit more googling and I found a ticket stub for that same concert on eBay (even went so far as to look at a Massey Hall seating chart) and then found a vintage t-shirt from that same concert. Procrastination at its finest.

Naturally, Callie makes good use of my Meat Loaf finds, but I’m afraid that’s as much as I can tell you without a spoiler, but I can share this YouTube link to the official music video

And now for the Shameless Self Promotion part of this post:

Available in e-book, print, and audio (Audible), I describe my Marketville Mysteries as “cold case cozies.” You won’t find any cats, crafts, or cookie recipes, but you also won’t find overt sex, violence or bad language. I like to think that Dame Agatha would approve. Poirot? He’d probably think he could do it better.

Skeletons in the Attic (Book 1): Calamity (Callie) Barnstable isn’t surprised to learn she’s the sole beneficiary of her late father’s estate, though she is shocked to discover she has inherited a house in the town of Marketville with one condition: she must move to Marketville, live in the house, and solve her mother’s murder. Callie’s not keen on dredging up a thirty-year-old mystery, but if she doesn’t do it, there’s a scheming psychic named Misty Rivers who hopes to expose the Barnstable family secrets herself. Determined to thwart Misty and fulfill her father’s wishes, Callie accepts the challenge. But is she ready to face the skeletons hidden in the attic?

On sale for just .99 at all the usual e-book suspects until November 15th. Here’s a multi-retailer link.

Past & Present (Book 2): It’s been thirteen months since Callie inherited the house in Marketville. She solves the mystery, but what next? Unemployment? Another nine-to-five job in Toronto? She decides to set down roots in Marketville, take the skills and knowledge she acquired over the past year, and start her own business: Past & Present Investigations. It’s not long before she gets her first client: a woman who wants to find out everything she can about her grandmother, Anneliese Prei, and how she came to a “bad end” in 1956. It sounds like a perfect first assignment. Except for one thing: Anneliese’s past winds its way into Callie’s present, and not in a manner anyone—least of all Callie—could have predicted.

A Fool’s Journey (Book 3): In March 2000, twenty-year-old Brandon Colbeck left home to find himself on a self-proclaimed “fool’s journey.” No one—not friends or family—have seen or heard from him since, until a phone call from a man claiming to be Brandon brings the case back to the forefront. Calamity (Callie) Barnstable and her team at Past & Present Investigations have been hired to find out what happened to Brandon and where he might be. As Callie follows a trail of buried secrets and decades-old deceptions only one thing is certain: whatever the outcome, there is no such thing as closure.

Before There Were Skeletons (Book 4): The last time anyone saw Veronica Goodman was the night of February 14, 1995, the only clue to her disappearance a silver heart-shaped pendant, found in the parking lot behind the bar where she worked. Twenty-seven years later, Veronica’s daughter, Kate, just a year old when her mother vanished, hires Past & Present Investigations to find out what happened that fateful night.
Calamity (Callie) Barnstable is drawn to the case, the similarities to her own mother’s disappearance on Valentine’s Day 1986 hauntingly familiar. A disappearance she thought she’d come to terms with. Until Veronica’s case, and five high school yearbooks, take her back in time…a time before there were skeletons.

Exit Inspiration

The Inspiration Behind Emergency Exit

The opening of Emergency Exit, book 3 of the Valkyrie Brothers series, was actually the first scene I wrote in the series.  Ash Valkyrie sneaks into the building (because… reasons) via the service elevator and due to the loud vent system Harper Smoak has a misunderstanding about which party the elevator is heading for and… the hijinks and the plot ensue from there. The Valkyrie Brothers trilogy is a laugh-packed series of connected romantic mysteries starring the Valkyrie Brothers—Rowan, Forest, and Ash—as they struggle to find love AND stay alive in Seattle.

So I had the perfect set up for my characters! But then the scene sat there.  And sat there.  I would open it up periodically, re-read it and think… that is a great opening! Too bad I had no plot to go with it.  And then finally, finally, finally another elevator-based idea snuck into my head. What if the couple in the Smith Tower elevator weren’t the only ones to meet in an elevator?  And thus the premise for the Valkyrie Brothers began. But the series started and now ends with the Smith Tower.

What makes the Smith Tower Memorable?

Completed in 1914, the 38-story, the Smith Tower was the tallest building west of the Mississippi River until the completion of the Kansas City Power & Light Building in 1931. It remained the tallest building on the U.S. West Coast until the Space Needle overtook it in 1962. It was owned by the wealthy industrialist Lyman Cornelius Smith, and construction was completed by his family after his death in 1910.  It was designated as Seattle Landmark in 1984 and has faced a variety of economic misfortunes from careless owners, to low tenancy and a foreclosure sale in 2012.

But aside from being old, what’s it got that’s cool?  Architectural style for miles.  From the tower being clad in distinctive white terra cotta and a pyramid top to the tower that has an apartment inside, the building is an Art Deco beauty. But the real show-stopper was the Chinese Room.

Tucked on the 35th floor of the Smith Tower, the Chinese Room was reportedly a gift from China’s Empress Dowager Cixi, complete with a carved teak ceiling, blackwood furniture, and silk paintings, and even a famous Wishing Chair said to bring good luck in love. It opened alongside the tower in 1914, delighting visitors who would ride the original hand-operated Otis elevator to soak in the views—and the décor. Although the room was closed in 2014, much of its ornate charm—like the ceiling and chair—was preserved in a new speak-easy style bar space.

I’m sorry, did you say hand-operated elevators?

That’s right. The building was one of the last on the West Coast to employ elevator operators. It wasn’t until 2017 that the elevators were automated (and OK, renovated for seismic safety).  The elevators have lattice like scissor gates that allowed riders to see the floors as they go by and they have kept those, but now they operate with the press of a boring button, rather than by a gentleman turning a lever to the correct floor.

How did the Smith Tower Inspire Emergency Exit?

My business partner and I worked an event at the Smith Tower in early 2014, which means that we were one of the last people to see the original Chinese Room in all its splendor and ride up all those floors with the uniform-clad elevator operator.  And for years, I thought that it seemed like such a fabulous location that it needed to be commemorated in story and song.  But I can’t sing and I don’t write music, so fiction is what I’m bringing to the table.  And when it came time to write about the Smith Tower, I made the choice to fudge the timeline a bit.  I wanted to bring back the Chinese Room and elevator operators in all their splendor and inconvenience.  And I did!  So if you want to learn more about Ash, Harper, and the Smith Tower, check out Emergency Exit!

Emergency Exit, Release Date: 9/22

Emergency Exit 3D book mock up

One bad ex. One fake relationship. Sometimes the only way out is the Emergency Exit.

When a misunderstanding lands new-to-town Harper Smoak at the wrong event with gorgeous tech investor Asher Valkyrie, she hopes she’ll be able to sneak out without embarrassment. But when she fends off his manipulative ex, Emma, by pretending to be his girlfriend Ash offers Harper $10,000 to continue the role and bolster his image while he works on a high-profile Pentagon project. Hesitant, but struggling with a debt she never asked for, Harper agrees. However, the faux-relationship quickly sends real sparks flying, and what began as simple arrangement quickly becomes something more. But while Harper and Ash draw closer, navigating Ash’s secrets, judgmental social circle, and Emma’s interference, test their growing bond. And when Ash’s enemies target Harper, Ash knows that he has one chance to make things right or Harper will be making an emergency exit.

PRE-ORDER: https://amzn.to/43ZKsT6

 

 

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Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of action-adventure and fantasy tales that focus on women who know when to apply lipstick and when to apply a foot to someone’s hind end. She participates in many activities, including swearing, karate, art, and yelling at the news. She can usually be found chasing after her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel (or screenplay). You can also catch up with her on TwitterFacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

Plotting a Murder

Plotting all the Plots

Recently, I came across a call for a short story anthology focused on murder mysteries that took place in the workplace. However, the stipulation was that the death be dependent on that working situation. As a graphic designer, unless I accidentally stab my business partner to death with my college-era bone folder because she kerned too tightly, I don’t foresee a lot of work-related deaths in my future. So I had to look further afield, or at least into other fields of work, for my murderous plotting.

But having eyed my business partner for death once, I decided that she could be a useful resource – not as a dead body (she was relieved to hear this), but as a contact point for her brother, who works for a railroad. After all, with so much big machinery, a railroad seems a viable location for dangerous deaths.  Now, who to kill and how?

As we took our lunch break on a nearby beach, we discussed the whys and wherefores of offing someone.  I believe we frightened an older couple with a Yorkie.  Saying, “yes, but who should we kill?” is probably not the conversation they were expecting to overhear.  Once we had come up with a viable reason to kill someone, we needed a how.

Don’t Put Plotting on Your Brother’s Work Phone

But we also needed to figure out how to ask her brother, because as it turns out, his work provides his phone.  Which means that, should there be a problem, his tech support can view his messages. Plotting a murder over text is probably not something he would appreciate having on record.  So my business partner accepted the mission to discover how to kill someone at the railroad.  She performed this clandestine operation with the simple application of… a phone call. Fortunately, her brother, once he understood the assignment, was more than happy to share a myriad of ways to off a co-worker.  And whew! did he have some doozies!

So… How does it happen?

I can’t tell you that! However, I must admit that I had not even realized that death in this manner was a thing that could happen.  I was expecting “run over by a train” not baked from… nope, nope, nope, not spilling the manner of death.  I’ll keep it close to the vest until I’ve got a story to go with it.

But if you want something funny and dangerous to read sooner than that, you can check out…

Emergency Exit 3D book mock upEmergency Exit

Release Date: 9/22

Tech investor Asher Valkyrie hired Harper Smoak to be his fake girlfriend for stress-free social events, but the faux-relationship quickly sends real sparks flying. What began as a simple arrangement soon turns into a high-stakes game of love and survival when Ash’s lies begin to unravel.

LEARN MORE: https://amzn.to/3XEL9id

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Bethany Maines is the award-winning author of action-adventure and fantasy tales that focus on women who know when to apply lipstick and when to apply a foot to someone’s hind end. She participates in many activities, including swearing, karate, art, and yelling at the news. She can usually be found chasing after her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel (or screenplay). You can also catch up with her on TwitterFacebookInstagram, and BookBub.

And don’t forget to check out books from all the Stiletto Gang members:  Books

Killer Nashville Redux by Saralyn Richard

The Killer Nashville conference is coming up next month, and I’m going. Getting ready has brought back memories of my first KN conference, and this article I wrote afterwards. It explains why, like the swallows to Capistrano, I’m eager to return.

How the Killer Nashville Conference Changed My Life as an Author

The benefits of professional conferences are unquestionable. I attended dozens as an educator, and I participated in hosting some when I was a school improvement consultant. I know what goes into planning them, and I consider myself an authority when evaluating them.

That said, I had high expectations when I attended my first-ever writing conference, Killer Nashville, in 2019. I had heard good things about Killer Nashville. I was expecting to learn a lot from the assemblage of diverse and qualified speakers—authors, agents, and others in the publishing industry. I knew I would meet people and participate on panels and have a good time. My first mystery novel, MURDER IN THE ONE PERCENT, was up for a Silver Falchion for police procedurals and as the readers’ choice. So I packed my suitcase and hopped on an airplane, full of anticipation.

What I didn’t expect was that this conference would change my life as an author. I know that’s high praise, but it’s not hyperbole. What did Killer Nashville do to ignite my professional growth? I’m bursting with examples, and they all have to do with people.

In 2019, the guest authors were Joyce Carol Oates, David Morrell, and Alexandra Ivy. As a conference participant, I had the opportunity to observe and interact with each of these authors numerous times. The quality of content in their interviews and workshops was high, and the environment was cozy enough to allow for meaningful dialogue. I had admired Joyce Carol Oates’s writing for many years. I’d even taught many of her short stories. It was a special thrill to learn that so many big ideas had emanated from such a petite person, a writer focused not on her past works, but on her future ones. “Write about what matters,” she expounded. Her utter lack of timidity was inspirational. David Morrell continued to inspire. He pointed out that “reading is the only way to develop empathy,” and it is the writer’s obligation to evoke the best human emotions from readers. Alexandra Ivy spoke about the fear many authors struggle with, but she said, “Writing from your heart is the only way to find your voice.”

Here I am, years later, still quoting these acclaimed authors, but, more importantly, I’ve taken to heart their advice. My subsequent mystery novels march boldly into areas and topics that have relevance to society—PTSD, LGBT, me too, race relations—to name a few. The guest authors’ remarks showed me how important it is to write from the soul.

The guest authors weren’t the only people who had a positive effect on my writing. Also on board were five friendly and helpful literary agents. I chatted informally with several of them at the Friday night “Shine ‘n’ Wine” event, and I attended a session in which they explained how they work and what they look for in submissions. I also attended a pitch session where I received a personalized critique from two agents. Although these sessions didn’t result in my snagging an agent, they provided me with something more important—a critical view of the process of moving a story to publication in a highly competitive market. Now I’m much more conscious of voice and deep point of view than I was before, and I have a broader view of my audience.

Next, I participated in scores of special sessions and panel discussions. Most of these were in small group settings, so I was able to get to know the presenters and ask questions. I presented at several sessions, as well, and was the group leader for one. Through these sessions I met a lot of fellow authors. We exchanged cards and contact information, shared common experiences, and formed networks. My social media platform exploded, and when the time came to seek authors to read my next books with an eye toward writing review blurbs, these were my go-to people. I have done a lot of cross-promoting with authors I met at Killer Nashville, and we have continued to encourage each other and celebrate victories together.

Speaking of victories, the awards ceremony at Killer Nashville was thrilling. So many contending books were represented as finalists in various categories, and so many authors received warm attention for their writing. That moment when my name and my book title were called out in two categories—it felt like the culmination of a lifelong dream. That Murder in the One Percent won the Reader’s Choice Silver Falchion for 2019 was the ultimate acknowledgment that I’d achieved something meaningful as an author. The honors went a long way toward motivating me to work harder to improve my craft, to connect with readers again and again.

One special feature of Killer Nashville was the mock crime scene set up by Dan Royce, formerly of the Tennessee FBI. Throughout the conference, participants were invited to examine clues laid out in a hotel suite. The murder scene represented a real case, and it was my job to identify which items were pertinent to solving the case, decide which tests needed to be performed on these items, and form a conclusion as to who killed the victim, how the killing occurred, and what the motive was. It was a real-live game of Clue. It was fun to compete with other mystery authors to solve the murder correctly, but I also learned a lot about forensics, the precision required during investigations, and the costs of the crime-solving methodology. I was able to transfer this knowledge to my writing, as well.

All these experiences combined to make my time at Killer Nashville one of the most worthwhile weekends of my writing career. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the glue that held all of the components of the conference together, the Killer Nashville staff. Each staff member was friendly and helpful, throughout the conference, but Liz Gatterer did so many things to make my experience go smoothly from start to finish. Her organizational skills and people skills really shone. Finally, huge accolades went to Clay Stafford. His vision and commitment to Killer Nashville have made everything else work together like a perfectly performed play. Clay’s energy and enthusiasm were contagious, and he made every one of us feel like family.

What was the secret recipe for a life-changing writers’ conference? Equal parts of class, spirit, inspiration, support, and Southern hospitality. Stirred until smooth. Gently baked with caring hands. Rendered super cool, and served repeatedly over time. Can you tell—I can’t wait to go back!

Have you ever been to a writers’ conference? Will I see you at KN 2025? Hope so!

 

Award-winning mystery and children’s book author, Saralyn Richard loves being a Stiletto Gang member. A former urban high school educator, she’s living the dream, connecting with readers through her books: the Detective Parrott mystery series, the Quinn McFarland mystery series, A Murder of Principal, and Naughty Nana. Saralyn participates in International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America, and she teaches creative writing. Website: https://saralynrichard.com.

 

 

 

 

Guest Author M.E. Proctor Bops into Historical Fiction Waters

Bopping in Historical Waters

By M.E. Proctor

When I was a kid, I wanted to be an archeologist. I had romantic notions about digging in the Valley of the Kings, excavating the ruins of Troy, or following Percy Fawcett in his search for the lost city of Z—David Grann’s book had not been published yet or I would have known that was a no-no … the critters … yikes.

Adventure books contributed to my vocabulary (quirky), grasp of world geography (off the beaten track), and crossword cracking (obscure). They also developed a long-lasting interest in history. To this day, these are the bookshop shelves I go to first. Logically, I should write historical fiction instead of contemporary crime.

I know why I don’t. The problem is twofold.

First, I’m an impatient obsessive. It’s not as contradictory as it sounds. A few months ago, I wrote a piece for an anthology. The story takes place in 1640 C.E. in Ireland. I spent two months hopping from one rabbit hole to the next, gathering documentation, deeper and deeper. All for what ended up being a 6,000 words story. That’s the obsessive in me. Imagine what would happen if I decided to write a book. My impatient self shivers at the thought. Forty months of research? Before writing the first line? The historical fiction writers reading this will probably say that it isn’t that bad, that once the material is assembled the sailing is smooth, or that I need to be more focused, more organized in the search.

That’s where my second problem kicks in. I’m curious. If something smells good in that rabbit hole, I’ll go for it. What happened in that place a hundred years before, or a hundred years later? What about this character? I don’t picture historical research as an academic pursuit. To me, it’s the most tempting of candy stores, a place of delights where I want to pitch my tent and stay. I might never put a line on paper.

And that’s why I will never write a historical fiction book.

Yet, Bop City Swing is out in the world.

I was tricked.

Russel Thayer contacted me last year and suggested we write a short story in collaboration. We had both published pieces set in California in the 1940s and 50s, classic crime, inspired by the ‘noir’ movies we both love. His recurrent character is gun-for-hire Vivian, nicknamed Gunselle, and I had stories with SFPD homicide detective, Tom Keegan. Let’s bring them together. We didn’t think it would turn into a book.

I didn’t consider 1951 ‘historical fiction’. It isn’t a hundred years old—the marker for antiques—and women’s skirts didn’t sweep the floor, a visual cue that says ‘costume drama’.

Russell and I talked about plot and locations, decided to build the story around a political assassination, didn’t know what would happen next, and started writing.

The need for research became obvious right away. We needed an election year in San Francisco. That set the date, 1951, when incumbent mayor Robinson ran for a second term. We also needed a realistic scene for the crime and chose the Palace Hotel, still standing downtown. A stroke of luck delivered period-accurate floor plans. We didn’t know it yet, but these plans would be critical for the plot. We also gathered city maps and photographs.

Compared to my excursion to the 17th century, none of the work done for Bop City Swing was time-consuming, and the rabbit holes were few. Because we let the plot and the characters dictate the story. When we bumped into an anachronism or a historical impossibility, we adjusted the narrative. Minor modifications: change of address, different music selection. Ironically, the trickier part was shedding some of the language flotsam movies left behind. In the final draft, period slang and hardboiled expressions that leaned too much into Chandlerian back alleys were cut. They’re period-correct, but 2025 readers might blink.

Bop City Swing is neither an homage nor a pastiche, its ambition is just to be a damn good crime story. Historical? Maybe.

Bop City Swing

San Francisco. 1951.

Jazz is alive. On radios and turntables. In the electrifying Fillmore clubs, where hepcats bring their bebop brilliance to attentive audiences. In the posh downtown venues where big bands swing in the marble ballrooms of luxury hotels.

There the story begins, with the assassination of a campaigning politician during a fundraiser.

Homicide detective, Tom Keegan, is first on the scene. He’s eager, impatient, hot on the heels of the gunman. Gunselle, killer for hire, flew the coop, swept away in the rush of panicked guests. They both want to crack the case. Tom, because he’s never seen a puzzle he didn’t want to solve, no matter what the rules say. Gunselle, because she was hired to take out the candidate and somebody beat her to it. It was a big paycheck. It hurts. In her professional pride and wallet.

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M.E. Proctor was born in Brussels and lives in Texas. The first book in her Declan Shaw PI series, Love You Till Tuesday, came out from Shotgun Honey, with the follow up, Catch Me on a Blue Day, scheduled for 2025. She’s the author of a short story collection, Family and Other Ailments, and the co-author of a retro-noir novella, Bop City Swing. Her fiction has appeared in VautrinToughRock and a Hard PlaceBristol NoirMystery TribuneShotgun HoneyReckon Review, and Black Cat Weekly among others. She’s a Derringer nominee.

Website: www.shawmystery.com

Substack: https://meproctor.substack.com

 

 

Russell Thayer’s work has appeared in Tough, Roi Fainéant Press, Mystery Tribune, Close to the Bone, Bristol Noir, Cowboy Jamboree Press, Shotgun Honey, Rock and a Hard Place Press, Revolution John, Punk Noir Magazine, Expat Press, The Yard Crime Blog, and Outcast Press. He received his BA in English from the University of Washington, worked for decades at large printing companies, and lives in Missoula, Montana.

Oops! After 15 Years I Killed My Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers Mystery Blog

By Lois Winston

Sometimes the universe sends you a signal. Last month, I received one. It began when I was uploading a guest post to Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers, the blog I’d created in 2010 because my editor wanted me to join Facebook, and I had refused. I told her I’d instead join Twitter and create a blog.

I rarely posted on Twitter and eventually closed the account, but I kept up the blog. It changed over the years. At first, I posted new content five days a week. After a few years, I reduced my blogging to three days a week, then once a week. I began having more and more guests because coming up with fresh content, even once a week, is time-consuming, and I also belong to two multi-author blogs. I blog once a month here at The Stiletto Gang and once every seven weeks at Booklover’s Bench. For the last year, I was posting once a month on Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers and hosting guests the other weeks.

Then one day about a month ago, I was uploading a guest post, and Blogger wouldn’t let me add the jpeg of the guest’s cover. I rebooted my computer. Multiple times with no success. I searched the Internet and found various reasons why the jpeg wouldn’t load. I tried other jpegs with no success, and after eliminating all the other suggestions, I tried the only one left. I deleted my cookies. Suddenly, I could no longer get onto my blog dashboard, even after signing in.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with Google, leaning heavily toward the hate. Google doesn’t play well with my Mac. Never has. And, of course, it’s impossible to get human help from Google, especially for Blogger, which they stopped supporting years ago. Did I want to waste more hours, days, even weeks trying to get back into my blog, knowing the chances of success were infinitesimal? I’d already wasted hours, the result being that the initial minor problem had grown to a major one. I also wasn’t about to pay a tech expert hundreds of dollars, only to have him or her fail as well.

Maybe the time had come to bid a fond farewell to Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers. The fact that I wasn’t panicking about losing my blog, told me this was an option I should consider. Maybe Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers had run its course after fifteen years. All good things must come to an end. Would anyone even notice or care? Do I care? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t. Instead, I was looking forward to the time it would free up in my writing schedule and my life.

So, fare thee well, Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers. I bid you adieu as you take your place in the huge expanse of dead blogs floating around somewhere in cyberspace.

Have you stepped away from some or all social media, either intentionally or inadvertently? Were you upset or happy about it? Post a comment for a chance to receive a promo code for a free audiobook download of one of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries.

~*~

USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Her most recent book is Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the fourteenth Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

It Was an Honor to be Nominated

Back in March, I shared my good news about Larceny & Last Chances: 22 Stories of Mystery & Suspense getting the 2025  Derringer nomination for Best Anthology.  Then, in April, I learned that two stories in the collection had also been nominated for Best Short Story. Since the initial short story submissions are blind-judged, it really is an honor just to be nominated. Let me tell you a bit about the stories:

Skeeter’s Bar & Grill by Julie Hastrup

The story of a jilted groom wandering into a desolate bar in the Florida Keys during an impending storm. Here are the first couple of paragraphs

Rounding the bend in the road, Jim—Sarah liked to call him James—caught sight of the enormous slate-gray shelf cloud barreling toward him like an alien ship going into battle. It blotted out the sun and the last remaining shreds of happiness in his soul. His fingers brushed the chilled leather of the passenger seat, searching for his phone and the directions it held. It couldn’t be that many more miles to Key West. The slim red line on the screen’s battery icon warned him his GPS instructions were about to end.

He’d made it 420 of the 470 miles from St. Augustine, only stopping twice. Once for gas and once to use the bushes along the side of the road. His hands cramped from gripping the steering wheel like a vice for most of the last eight hours. His eyes burned from squinting into the sun. And from crying. The gurgles in his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since last night’s rehearsal dinner. Time to pull over. But where? All the places he’d passed since leaving the mainland had been boarded up. A road trip during the forecasted storm of the season probably wasn’t the best idea. Then again, he hadn’t chosen the timing.

The other was my own story in the anthology, the story of a woman scorned looking for revenge, not because she was jilted, as Jim, the groom in Julie’s story was, but because she was overlooked. Here’s the intro:

The Last Chance Coalition by Judy Penz Sheluk

I watch Jake McFadden strut into O’Leary’s Bar & Grill with the swagger of a man who’s dabbled with the big time and likes to flaunt it. His hair, now gunmetal gray shot with strands of silver, is still thick, wavy, and carefully tousled. He’s also grown a beard, presumably to hide the sagging jowls of a man in his mid-sixties, though that presumption may be somewhat unkind.

The authors seated at the long, banquet-style table rise, their greetings effusive, and he accepts their adoration as his due. McFadden’s last “critically acclaimed” novel may have been a decade ago (in the publishing world, critically acclaimed is invariably a euphemism for poor sales), but he’s made a serious name for himself as an editor. Anthologies mostly, multi-author collections of mystery and suspense. He’s even been nominated for a Cleopatra Award for his work on Border Crossing, which is what rankles the most.

More than rankles, if I’m being honest. I mean, what sort of narcissistic egomaniac writes about nothing but his own publishing career and caps it off by including his own short story in the introduction—and not even a very good story, at that? What sort of pompous ass forgets to acknowledge the volunteer who spent countless unpaid hours vetting, formatting, and logging submissions?

Jake McFadden, that’s who.

Now, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want Larceny to win at least one of the three awards, but it didn’t. Even so, I meant it when I said it was just an honor to be nominated. Besides, there’s always next year.  And if you’re interested in finding out what happened to Jim and Jake, you can purchase Larceny & Last Chances at www.books2read.com/larceny.