Random Acts of Kindness

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With fall in the air, and the weather getting chillier, we decided to explore a warmer topic in this month’s Stiletto Soapbox: random acts of kindness. It can be as simple as someone opening the door for you at the post office when your arms are full, or a stranger giving you a smile when you need it most. Anyway, here are our favorite tales of kindness, and we’d love to hear yours, too, if you’d like to share with us.

Susan: The act of kindness that sticks out in my head isn’t exactly random, but it’s very special to me. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to go through six and a half weeks of radiation therapy, my mom and mom-in-law stepped up, offering to alternate driving me five days a week for the entire span of treatment so “you will never be alone.” I wasn’t yet married to Ed, and the fact that his mom wanted to pitch in like that still astounds me. That my mother would do it was sweet enough. Even as I type this and think of “my two moms” being there for me, I tear up. If I ever need a reminder that there is goodness in the world, I just look at them and know, “yep, there is.”

Maggie: When you’re going through something difficult, it’s sometimes hard to ask for help. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I didn’t want any help, but discovered the only way I was going to get through it was to open my heart and accept all the love and support that was offered to me. I had to put aside my feeling that accepting help was weak; I have found the opposite to be true. The first thing I received was prayer, in the form of a beautiful service that was held at my church. That buoyed me as I embarked on a chemo regimen. After that night, three nights a week for two months, meals would arrive at my door from local angels. There were countless other kindnesses that were shown me and that continue to be shown to me.

The lesson I learned was this: just as there is grace in helping others, there is grace in accepting help. How can we feel good about the times when we reach out and help if there is no one to graciously accept our support?

Rhonda (the Southern half of Evelyn David):

The other day this guy who had just fueled his truck at a service station offered to pump my gas, actually reached over and unhooked the gas pump nozzle for me before I could even get out of my car. I said no thanks, smiled, and waved him off. Truthfully, I was afraid to get that close to him with my credit card. Didn’t help that his appearance screamed “chain gang escapee.” Does it count if you’re too afraid to accept random acts of kindness???

Marian (the Northern half of Evelyn David):

I couldn’t figure out why I was having trouble coming up with examples of Random Acts of Kindness. Certainly I’ve been blessed by the kindness, generosity, sensitivity, and caring of family, friends, and even strangers. But what finally struck me is that while I am touched and thankful for these acts, great and small, I’m not surprised by them. What surprises me are Random Acts of Meanness. Fundamentally, I believe that people are basically good; that their instincts are to be helpful or at least not deliberately unhelpful. News of cruelty is so shocking because we don’t expect humans to behave that way.

Anne Frank, hidden in a cramped attic for two years to escape Nazi detection, wrote in her diary: “In spite of everything that has happened, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” I want/need to believe that too.

Marilyn: Years ago I belonged to a sorority of married women that seemed mostly to be about having parties. I learned about a family with three young kids, one developmentally disabled, and the father had lost his job. They would have no Christmas. I told the sorority gals, and we decided to provide Christmas. Each one of us purchased gifts for every member of the family, wrapped them, and provided the ingredients for a complete Christmas dinner, a Christmas tree and ornaments. We loaded everything into my old station wagon and delivered the goodies to their address. A man was working on a car in the driveway of the apartment house and asked if he could help us. When we told him where we were headed, he said, “That’s my address.” He helped us carry everything upstairs. The whole family was there and watched wide-eyed as we brought everything in. We said “Merry Christmas” and started to leave. The man said, “Wait. Where did all this come from?” I said, “You have heard of Santa Claus, haven’t you?” And we left, grinning all the way downstairs. I still feel good when I think about that day.

Misa: Once when my husband, who was a teacher at the time, was camping, he lost his wedding ring (which was my grandfather’s ring given to us before he died) in the lake. He spotted one of his students at the lake just as he was leaving, and he told the boy and his family about the ring, knowing he’d never find it. The following Monday at school, the boy came to school and proudly held up a gold wedding band. “Is this your ring?” he asked my husband. It was. The boy had spent hours diving and searching the shallow sandy bottom of the lake. And he found the ring! It was so random and so giving.

Just as the mystery community is stepping up to support Kate Collins*, these little moments remind me how loving and generous people can be, how people can band together for a common goal, and take action as an individual or as a group can impact others. I’m proud to be part of a community that supports its members in times of trouble, and I’m proud to adhere to a philosophy of random kindness and caring for others.

*Kate Collins very recently lost her husband, and we want to help her out in this difficult time. She has a newly released title from her Flower Shop mystery series just out: Dirty Rotten Tendrils. Perhaps you could buy a copy for yourself and a second copy for someone you care deeply about or even a library you love in honor of her husband. Here’s the Amazon link:
Dirty Rotten Tendrils Flower Shop

Thursday Morning with Marilyn Brant

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I’m so happy that Marilyn Brant can join us today! She’s a great friend of mine, and she’s got a brand-new novel out called FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE, which revolves around three forty-something friends who regularly meet for coffee and talk about everything under the sun. I figured to go along with the theme, I’d do a little Q&A session with Marilyn for y’all to read as you sip your morning caffeine. So here goes!

Susan: Tell us about your most recent novel in 30 words or less.

Marilyn: FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE is a modern fairy tale about three suburban moms who each begin to question whether they’d married the right man or were living the right lives.

Susan: Okay, now more details, please!

Marilyn: Each Friday morning at the Indigo Moon Café, Jennifer, Bridget and Tamara meet to swap stories about marriage, kids and work. But one day, spurred by recent e-mails from her college ex, Jennifer poses questions they’ve never faced before. What if they all married the wrong man? What if they’re living the wrong life? And what would happen if, just once, they gave in to temptation?

Soon each woman is second-guessing the choices she’s made–and the ones she can unmake–as she becomes aware of new opportunities around every corner, from attentive colleagues and sexy neighbors to flirtatious past lovers. And as fantasies blur with real life, Jennifer, Bridget and Tamara begin to realize how little they know about each other, their marriages and themselves, and how much there is to gain or lose when you step outside the rules.

Susan: What was your favorite scene from the book?

Marilyn: One chapter I had a lot of fun writing in FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE was an adults-only Halloween costume party in the middle of the book. It made for a long, complicated chapter (I felt as though I practically had to choreograph it), but it’s a major turning point in the story for all three of the women. Some very serious things are happening in regards to each of their marriages, but those dramatic moments are juxtaposed against an absolutely absurd party setting, which made laugh whenever I tried to visualize the event.

Susan: What was most important to you in the writing of this story?

Marilyn: I’m always trying to be honest about the complexities of human emotion, particularly in regards to relationships. I would say with FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE, the biggest issue I wanted to explore was not so much the concept of “cheating” as a theme but, rather, the far less titillating subject of “choosing.” That a woman can really only be in a relationship fully — marital or otherwise — once she understands how and why she’s chosen to be there. That she has to look closely enough and listen deeply enough to know who she is and what she wants. And that in every romantic relationship or good friendship, she chooses over and over again (either consciously or unconsciously) whether she wants to stay. I believe that’s true of all of us, and I wanted my characters in this story to move from unconsciously living very unexamined lives to consciously, actively making a choice about where they were headed.

Susan: Where do you find inspiration for your work?

Marilyn: From conversations I overhear, things my friends tell me, funny stuff that happened in my family, incidents I’ve observed out in public, stories I’ve read in books or seen on TV and those endless “what if?” questions writers always ask themselves.

Susan: What’s your favorite thing about being a writer?

Marilyn: Getting to do something creative every single day! Truly, that’s been such a gift. Even when the plotting of a scene is giving me fits or the synopsis doesn’t seem to make sense at all…I love knowing that I have a place to play with these characters and storylines. My hope is that by writing about women’s dreams and experiences as honestly as possible, I might get closer to helping readers recognize truths about their own lives. It was this sense of “recognition” that my favorite novelists gave to me, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

Susan: What’s your advice for writers looking to get their novels published?

Marilyn: Don’t follow trends just because you think it’ll be an easier sell. And write the books that fit your voice. If what you love writing happens to be a hot-selling genre, great. If your writing voice happens to be perfect for the genre you want to write in and love to read, that’s awesome, too. But–if not–write long and hard enough to find what DOES fit you and your style best. Because then, even if it takes longer to make that first sale than you expect, you’re writing the kinds of stories you most enjoy, and that passion has a way of working itself into the projects you’re creating.

Susan: What’s next for you?

Marilyn: I’m in the process of beginning blog tours, library visits, book-club chats and other public events featuring FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE, which is a Doubleday Book Club and Book-of-the-Month Club selection for October 2010. I’m also still doing some fun Austen-related promo for my debut novel, ACCORDING TO JANE. I’ve just turned in my third novel (the title is still up for debate!), which will be out next fall, and it’s a modern “A Room with a View”-like travel adventure. It has characters that play chess, Sudoku and Mah-jongg, eat lots Italian gelato and linguini, and spontaneously sing Andrew Lloyd Webber songs and other musical-theater selections. Finally, I’m starting the writing process all over again for my next women’s fiction project, which I’m really excited about. I’ll, hopefully, be able to share more info on that story soon!

Marilyn Brant has been a classroom teacher, a library staff member, a freelance writer and a national book reviewer. She lives in the Chicago suburbs with her husband and son, surrounded by towers of books that often threaten to topple over and crush her. A proud member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, Marilyn’s debut novel featuring “Jane” won the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart® Award. When not working on her next book, she enjoys traveling, listening to music and finding new desserts to taste test. Readers can visit her website at MarilynBrant.com.

In Defense of the Busy Signal

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I miss the busy signal.

Remember the busy signal? The steady, annoying beeping sound that signified that the person you were calling on the phone was on the line with another person? Quick—without thinking—tell me the last time you actually heard the busy signal. It has probably been a long time, right? Well, if you miss it, you can call us here at Chez Barbieri. I’m convinced—as are my technology-starved children who share a dsl connection with their mother—that we’re the only family in America who doesn’t have call waiting.

As much as I miss the busy signal, I hate call waiting even more. Here’s my experience with call waiting: if I’m on the phone with a friend and someone else beeps in, invariably, the friend I’m talking to says they have another call and they’ll have to call me back later. However, if I beep in on a conversation that the same friend is having with someone else, their response is always to tell me that they’re on another call and they’ll have to call me back later.

Huh?

Ellen DeGeneres once called call waiting “a mini People’s Choice Awards” and I have to agree. There is nothing to make you feel less worthy than someone a) jettisoning you from a conversation in progress or b) cutting you off to return to another conversation in progress—i.e. not taking your call—albeit at different times. Besides that, it’s rude.

I do think there are times that letting someone go from the original conversation is okay – someone else beeps in, say, your son or daughter is calling from a tank in Afghanistan. Or, your doctor is calling with results of your pregnancy test. Or, Fresh Direct is on its way to your house but doesn’t know your street number. Or, someone has forgotten their lunch and needs a nourishment, tout de suite. But if someone of equal or lesser value to you calls, it is the owner of call waiting’s responsibility to stay on the line with you because what you have to say is just as—if not more—important.

The worst offender is the person who calls YOU and then takes another call during your conversation. Oh, we’re done? I often think. There’s also the person who just sees the number on caller ID and makes an instantaneous judgment that the person calling them is more deserving of their time than you are. You can tell all of that based on a phone number?

I have changed phone carriers many times in order to get a better deal. They always offer me all sorts of free services just shy of the one where a Verizon technician will come by every day and walk my dog. (When they give me that one, I’m switching back!) Call waiting is always on the menu and I always say “no thanks” which mystifies the sales representative. If I’m on the phone with someone, we will decide mutually when the conversation is over. We will not be subjected to a beeping sound that indicates someone else wants our attention. We will behave like civilized, polite human beings.

Besides, I probably wouldn’t be able to figure out to use it.

But that’s a post for another time.

Weigh in, Stiletto faithful: what modern “conveniences” do you eschew? (I’m looking at you, Polito!)

Maggie Barbieri

Big Valley Authors’ Festival

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Last Saturday the Big Valley Authors Festival sponsored by the Hanford Branch of the King County Library was held in the Hanford Mall. Hanford is only an hour and half drive from where I live and many of the authors who came are really good friends.

We were in a great place, tables and chairs all set up for us, but at first the foot traffic was slow. When it picked up I did quite well selling books, talking to people and handing out lots and lots of cards.

One thing I noticed with some of the authors, they didn’t stay with their books, instead they were up and off talking with other authors even when people paused at their table. Afterwards, I heard some say sales were slow.

I’ve written blogs about this on my own site: http://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com if you want to sell your books at a book or craft festival you have to be available to do so. You need to engage people as they pass by and certainly if they are actually looking at your books.

One author came to talk to me and stayed and stayed–I finally told her someone might want to talk to her, she should go back to her table. She left mine, but moved on to the next author. I don’t really understand this behavior.

Before the event began and I was all set up, I made the rounds and talked to each author. I even bought two books. Once the mall opened I stayed behind my table (except for potty breaks and when I was gone my husband was there and he’s very good at talking about my books and handing out my cards–usually keeps people entertained until I return.)

I know I sold a lot more books than most people there–and not because my books are better, but because I was available to talk about them. I even sold a book to a Japanese family who could hardly speak English. They were charming and were excited to meet a “real” author.

I hope they repeat the event next year. The first one, last year, was held in a Veteran’s Memorial Building and it was good too. The difference there was the people who visited came explicitly to see the authors as nothing else was going on that day.

After the event, a few of us went out to eat together–always fun. We had an interesting conversation about author behavior and those we probably will never buy another book from because of rudeness. That will be another blog post.

All in all, it was a great day.

Marilyn

Boy Meets Girl

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By Evelyn David

In Murder Off the Books, Mac Sullivan and Rachel Brenner meet cute. He suspects that her brother is a murderer, which may be a turn-on for some women, just not for Rachel. The scene is set for lots of banter and passive-aggressive flirting. Even the putative couple’ pets have a love-hate relationship. Whiskey, the Irish wolfhound, and Snickers, the butterball feline, snap, hiss, and snarl their way through the book, only to reach a detente (with Snickers on top of the refrigerator and Whiskey eating kitty kibble) at the end.

Making a love connection, in fiction or real life, ain’t easy.

An eHarmony poll reports that 19 percent of married couples surveyed met online. Seems a tad high, but on the other hand, I personally know four blissfully wedded couples who did make their first connection through one of the Internet dating sites. Once you’re out of school, it seems like the opportunity to meet eligible bachelors and bachelorettes is drastically reduced. This may just be a nervous mother talking, but I always figured any man my college daughter met on campus was safe; if she met him in a bar, then I was immediately into hyper-alert, “is this a serial killer,” mode. Okay, I agree that I’m not always completely or even partially sane about my kids’ safety.

But actually where are you going to meet potential suitors? You’re not supposed to date anyone from work (complications, maybe even lawsuits, if you break up). But if you’re spending 10 or more hours a day at your job – it doesn’t leave much time for socializing outside the office.

So if it’s not a bar or the workplace or the Internet, what’s the new scheme for Romeo and Juliet to find each other (and hopefully have a happier ending)?

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring BIG NEWS.

Two fun, quirky, clever mysteries for the price of one! Check out I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries, two short stories by Evelyn David now available on Kindle.

Hell on wheels or a psychic in a travel trailer?

Brianna Sullivan gave up her job finding missing luggage for the airlines in order to seek the freedom of the open road. Her first stop? The small town of Lottawatah, Oklahoma. Using her psychic abilities, Brianna takes on a multitude of jobs to earn gas money, help out the local police detective, and direct some troubled souls towards the light. Volume 1 of this series by Evelyn David contains two short stories – I Try Not To Drive Past Cemeteries and Dead But Not Buried in Lottawatah.

Download it today here

Now back to your regular programming.

Speed dating. It’s Nascar for the lovelorn. My son, under pressure from a friend who had recently had a nasty breakup, agreed to join him for this race to find a match. The basics of the evening were simple: 15 men, 15 women. One more criteria: everyone had to have a graduate degree. Interestingly, you didn’t have to be employed, just have a master’s degree or better, to sign-up for a love connection. The women were seated at individual tables, and the men moved from station to station, spending six minutes with each woman to discover if they had enough in common to warrant a second encounter. After the evening, you ranked the six individuals you’d like to see again, and if both parties indicated an interest, the organizers then provided the personal contact info.

My son, in one of his first encounters, asked a young woman what she did the previous weekend. “Slept,” she answered. He tried a different tack. “What do you like to do for fun?” Another simple answer: “Sleep.” Okay, he thought, not much to work with here.

I confess that I met my husband in high school, took him to my junior prom (not by covered wagon as my kids assume), and married right out of college. I’d make the same decision today – but if one of my kids wanted to get hitched right out of school, I’d think they were crazy. So much to see and do before settling down. Times have changed, indeed.

But the old story of “boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy wins girl back is timeless.” The only question is whether boy can be dazzled enough in six minutes to warrant a second look.

Stiletto Faithful – what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on (or heard about)?

Marian aka the Northern half of Evelyn David

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

I Heart Boobies

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by Susan McBride

At the moment, I have boobs on the brain.

As I write this, I’m finally home after spending 2-1/2 hours at The Breast Center in West County, getting my annual mammogram and contorting into positions that I’m not sure the Rubberband Man could accomplish very easily. I saw my surgeon afterward, and she did a good old-fashioned exam of my chestal area. It’s something I’m used to now, nearly four years post my lumpectomy. I alternate a mammo with an ultrasound every six months so nobody misses anything (at least that’s the plan!).

When I was diagnosed back in December of 2006, I was considered at low risk for developing breast cancer. I was 42 years old, healthy as a horse, and the only woman in my family who’d had breast cancer was my maternal grandmother. What a difference a few years make. In November of 2007, my maternal aunt was diagnosed and, just recently, my mother. These days, it’s not enough to worry about myself, Aunt Mary, and my mom. I worry about the next generation of girls in my family.

Gulp.

It’s one of the reasons I’m so open about my experience. I know so many women whose lives have similarly been touched by the Big C, and it’s a relief when you can talk about it. Certainly, it’s everyone’s choice whether to keep their journey personal or not, and I respect that. My view is that discussion–and even laughter about some of the crazy aspects of muddling through a diagnosis–makes it seem less frightening and perhaps less of a stigma.

My first time speaking in public about my boobs was at the big Susan G. Komen Survivors Luncheon at the Ritz-Carlton in St. Louis back in April of 2009. Before an audience of 800 survivors and co-survivors, I shared my story. I was told “don’t make anyone cry!” Which I didn’t want to do anyway. I mean, geez, just getting through it, you cry enough. My sense of humor kept me from crumbling, and that’s what I focused on in my talk: seeing the quirky side of things.

More recently, I spoke at the Horizon of Hope Dinner in Edwardsville, Illinois, which raises money for the American Cancer Society and breast cancer research. Again, I shared the crazier aspects of my path from the dark side into wellness. Although it’s never really over for survivors, is it? Someone once told me, “Breast cancer is the gift that keeps on giving,” and I believe it. If it’s not weird aches and pains, it’s anxiety. A survivor-friend and I have decided that cancer leaves a bigger scar on your psyche than on your body.

Before this all happened to me–and to others in my family–I’m not sure I could’ve stood up in front of hundreds of strangers to discuss my boobs. Books, yes. Those have always been easy for me to yak about. But breasts? Not until almost four years ago. When I suddenly shed any modesty. When so many people in white coats from doctors to nurses to rad techs saw my bare chest that I was tempted to unbutton my blouse when I sat down in the dentist’s chair. It kind of got to be a habit.

And I shed my verbal modesty, too. It became way too easy to say “boob” in all kinds of company. I didn’t even blink when one of my rad techs showed up at my book signing in a “Save the Ta-Tas” T-shirt. It’s part of the Culture of Pink.

So I was rather dismayed to read about fundraising bracelets stamped with “I Heart Boobies” being worn in high schools and the adverse reaction to them.

Okay, yeah, it gives teenaged boys something to snicker about (and maybe some of the girls, too). Yes, it probably leads to jokes; but if we think high school kids aren’t talking about boobies anyway, we’re naive. Have you seen what kids watch on TV these days? Or view on the Internet?

For me, it’s a matter of awareness and getting comfortable with the idea that breast cancer–and other cancers–are all too common these days. People are being diagnosed at younger and younger ages. If you make it to 70 now and don’t get cancer of some kind, you’re very fortunate. It doesn’t matter whether you believe the cause is genetic or environmental (or a mix of the two). It’s how things are, and we need to talk about it.

So if having “I Heart Boobies” on a bracelet makes one young woman who feels a lump go see her doctor to get it checked out, it’s worth the snickers and the gasps and the jokes. I don’t know any way to discuss cancer that isn’t uncomfortable on some front. Until you’ve been through it. Then some days you feel like it’s all you can talk about.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month so think Pink! I recently spoke on “Great Day St. Louis” on this very subject. If you’d like to take a look, click here.

I Never Fancied Myself a Romantic Suspense Author, by Misa Ramirez

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I started out writing middle grade fiction (the wonderful Ellis Island time travel story is tucked away somewhere in my study…perhaps to be resurrected one day) and moved on to children’s books. I was teaching at the time, so my head was in kid-land.


But after one fluke sale of a picture book story, I couldn’t sell another kids story to save my life.


Enter Lola.


Every Monday night, I’d been meeting with a friend at a coffee shop, as much to get out of the house and away from the kids (new baby and 4 others at home) as to write. My frustration at the pile of rejections was growing. I decided I needed a change. I decided to write something for adults. It would be fun and sassy, would have swearing and, egads!, sex.

Lola Cruz came to me just like that. It was like she was there all along, just waiting for me to call on her. I like to say she’s my alter-ego, if I were a smart, sexy, Latina detective. 😉 My husband is Mexican and I’ve always loved his culture. The food, the language, the community, the stories and legends, and more. So when I envisioned Lola, she represented my own children in a way.


After the first couple Lola books sold, I was at a crossroads. What to work on next?

I couldn’t imagine not incorporating some cultural element into whatever book I write (funny, since I’m a blonde-haired, green-eyed white girl!). The thing that popped into my mind was the story of la Llorona. La Llorona is kind of like the Bogey Man. It’s a story told to kids to keep them in bed.

That quintessential ghost story, Latino-style. My husband’s family would tell this story at camp outs, just as it had been told to them when they were kids.


I did a little research and learned the roots of the story. It dates back to the Aztecs, interestingly, and from there, four different versions evolved. The story in my head took roots and grew. But la Llorona is a ghost, and not a nice one, at that. My light, sassy voice had to adapt. The only way it would work was as a romantic suspense. I couldn’t see myself spending my entire writing career crafting suspense. There’s enough darkness in the world that I don’t want to write about it, too (light mysteries, like Lola Cruz, and my new cozy series don’t make me feel that darkness, interestingly).


But this story wouldn’t leave me alone. I wrote it. It became CURSED.

Buy Cursed for your Kindle!

Buy Cursed at The Reader Store!


The hero, Ray Vargas, had a brother, Vic. He needed his own story. The other thing that fascinates me is the curandera, a healer. Combine that with the urban legend of chupacabra (a vampire goat-like creature), and the makings of another story began. Same town. Another legend come to life. When I read a real-life account of a tree that had been saved from disease by the chain strung around it’s trunk, I knew I had stumbled upon a crucial and symbolic element.


That book became The Chain Tree.

Buy The Chain Tree for your Kindle!

Buy The Chain Tree at The Reader Store!

They’re out now in e-book form and I’m so excited! I wonder if others will find the legends of la Llorona and chupacabra as fascinating as I do. I hope so! If you have an e-reader, I hope you’ll give them a whirl and let me know your thoughts. I have a third story brewing based on yet another Mexican legend. Who knows, maybe two will become three: The Legends Trilogy.


Now, I have to go buy an e-reader so I can download my own books!


Happy e-reading!


~ MIsa

I’m Scared!

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A recent New York Times article discussed how the typical American parent is more concerned by threats to their children that are unlikely, e.g. terrorism, than threats to their children that are more dangerous and likely, e.g. obesity. That got me thinking: what are the things that I worry about when it comes to my children?

1. I worry that the cleats that I just bought child #2 will not fit in two weeks. Why? Because this has happened repeatedly. Every time a new pair of footwear is purchased—and tween footwear is not inexpensive—it is only a matter of weeks before said tween is crying, “These are too tight!” I didn’t marry Paul Bunyan and no, child #2 does not have some kind of accelerated growing disease. But boy, are his feet going to be huge. I worry about that. Or maybe I shouldn’t. Some women love a man with big feet.

2. I worry that my children will get scurvy. As much as they hate broccoli, brussel sprouts, and every other cancer-fighting vegetable that I serve nightly, they hate citrus fruits even more. As a result, I don’t even bother buying oranges. Every year for the holidays, however, some kind parent of one of hubby’s students will send a great, giant gift basket full of Florida grapefruits and oranges and I will hold them aloft, touting their restorative and scurvy-fighting powers. I will even employ a pirate accent to make my point and note how many pirates died on the high seas as a result of this nearly-eradicated disease. The kids hide until I stop speaking like Blackbeard. And then, with great sadness, I will parcel out the grapefruits and oranges to neighbors and friends who all proclaim that their kids “eat them up!” which makes me feel even worse.

3. I worry that their rooms are not clean enough so that after they have recovered from scurvy, they will get black lung disease. I made a conscious decision years ago that the kids were responsible for the cleanliness of their rooms. That should give you a mental picture of what their rooms look like. Granted, child #1 is a little better than child #2 in keeping things neat and tidy, but let’s face it: how many kids are going to pull their beds, dressers, and desks away from the wall to check to see how much dust has accumulated back there? Not too many, I suspect. Therefore, every few months or so, I take it upon myself to do just that. And what I find is not pretty. I have the pediatrician on speed dial just in case black lung becomes an issue because what I find behind the furniture looks very similar to what is found in coal mines, and that, my friends, is something that keeps me up at night. It doesn’t spur me to clean any more than I do; let’s be realistic here.

4. I worry that the rats will return and when they do, they’ll travel through the heating ducts and end up in their bedrooms. You remember the Great Rat Infestation of 2010? Well, I spend our good, hard-earned money every month on Tom, the Rat Whisperer, making sure that they don’t come back. But having done a little research on the habits of our furry, rodent friends, I have learned that they are intrepid. That is, they can scurry willy-nilly throughout your house, generally behind the walls; all they need is a few inches and something to tempt them, like the remnants of half-eaten granola bars that are often found when I move the furniture from the wall in one or another child’s room. I’ve decided that rather than scare the children about wearing clean underwear in the event of getting hit by a bus (this was a favorite of my mother and grandmother), I’d rather scar them for life by telling tales of rats who entered a child’s room through a heat duct and spent the night foraging for food underneath the child’s bed. That oughta learn them, right?

I’ll end there, if only to give you a chance to call Child Protective Services on me.

What are some of your concerns, Stiletto friends?

Maggie Barbieri

What Being a Writer Means to Me

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First, I must say that as a writer I write. I have to write. There are times when I can’t fit it in, usually because of family crisis or needs, but writing is what I want to do every day. I want to know what is going to happen to my characters and the only way to find out is to write about them.

Being a writer has also given me so much more than merely having my books published–though believe me, it’s a thrill each time a new one comes out.

First and foremost are the friends that I’ve made because of writing–author friends and reader friends. I cherish each one of them. I think when I first realized how many friends I’d made was at a Bouchercon years ago and as I entered the area where the panels were being held I was greeted and hugged by one person after another.

Because of being a writer–and at the time I was an instructor for Writers Digest School–I was invited to be an instructor at the prestigious Maui Writers Conference which meant a free trip to Maui.

I’ve also been asked to speak at other writers conferences in many different places–and I love seeing new places and of course meeting new people. I also like to share what I know about writing and publishing with new writers.

Speaking of seeing new places, going to mystery and other writing cons has taken me to places I’d have never gone otherwise. Going to Mayhem in the Midlands made Omaha NE one of my favorite places. Last year, attending Epicon gave me the opportunity to see New Orleans.

I enjoy book festivals too and have my favorites. Hubby and I love to make jaunts to the coast and combining one with a book festival has become something we do often. We just returned from San Luis Obispo and the Central Coast Book Festival and a couple of weeks before we were at Nipomo’s library book fest.

Next up is Bouchercon in San Francisco. I’m rooming with someone I haven’t seen since I went with her to Edgar week in New York and on down to Malice Domestic in DC. That will be a fun reunion–and I’ll be seeing a bunch of other friends too.

To sum it all up, being a writer has given me the opportunity to do so many things I would never have done otherwise–and it’s not only been satisfying but lots of fun.

Marilyn
http://fictionfroyou.com

Update – The Chisholm Trail Book Festival

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Evelyn David (i.e. Marian and I) attended two book festivals this month. I went to the one in Duncan, Oklahoma on September 18 and Marian went to Toms River, New Jersey on September 25th. These events were wonderful opportunities for both of us to connect with old and future readers of the Sullivan Investigation Mystery series. I’ll let her tell you about the New Jersey event in upcoming blogs.

I attended The Chisholm Trail Book Festival in Duncan. This was my first trip to Duncan and it was about a 3 1/2 hour drive from my home in Muskogee. I arrived about 4 pm on Friday, the 17th and checked into a hotel near the event location. The sponsors of the festival had invited all the authors to attend a dinner that evening at the Chisholm Trail Heritage Center. While waiting for dinner to be served, I avoided the sticky, 90 plus heat by touring the (fabulously air-conditioned) Heritage Center. The museum was a wonderful mix of prairie antiques and tv/movie memorabilia from iconic western films and series. One whole room was dedicated to Lonesome Dove, the book and tv miniseries. Large poster-sized stills from the mini-series covered the walls along with framed scripts and props. A flat screen television showed the movie in a continuous loop. I really wanted a Lonesome Dove coffee table book offered for sale in the gift store, but couldn’t justify the cost. (And believe me I tried!)

The dinner was traditional cowboy fare – barbequed brisket, beans, fried potatoes, slaw, and biscuits – served from a chuck wagon. Live music was provided as we ate on a covered portico. Most of the authors present were from Oklahoma and Texas, and I used the dinner hour to catch up with old friends and make some new ones. The majority of the authors attending were historical, biographical, or Christian writers. They were very kind to let a mystery writer sit among them.


The next morning I had an hour to set up my table. The sponsors of the event had arranged for teens from the local school to help authors unload their cars and cart the materials into the event center. I can’t tell you how impressed I was with this kindness. Four eighth-grade mystery fans helped me move boxes of books, framed poster, promo stuff, etc. from the parking lot to my assigned table. All of us had our hands full, so you can imagine how many trips it would have taken me to do it by myself.

A couple of hours after I settled in at my “crime scene”-themed table, I had to leave to present a workshop, “Clues to Writing a Mystery.” My audience was a mix of teens and adults, all interested in the nuts and bolts (or should I say knives and guns?) of writing mysteries. Marian, who had reviewed my handouts for typos, had warned me I had enough material for a two-day class. She was right, but I was happy knowing I wouldn’t run out of things to talk about.

While I was presenting the workshop, two of the young ladies who helped me earlier, manned my table, selling several books! I wish I had their help for all my events!

After lunch, which was sold conveniently right in the room where the book tables were located, I had a “mini-book-club” session. In other words, I read the opening scenes from Murder Off the Books. Reading aloud is not my favorite thing to do, but the audience was polite and clapped loudly when I finished a little early. They also asked lots of questions about publishers, agents, advances, and royalty payments. So maybe they weren’t so much into the plot and my oratory skills. Sigh. I didn’t mind though. I’m still new enough at this writing business to remember how confusing the publishing world was … uh is.

FFA guys (Future Farmers of America) showed up to help me pack up my table and load my car. They were great! In fact the whole festival was incredibly “pro-author.”

The 2011 Chisholm Trail Book Festival is already in the planning stages. For more information contact Lavon Strong at the Legacy Bank, 2100 N. Hwy. 81, Duncan, OK 73533.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/