Books in Waiting (or the pile on my sofa)

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Some of you know I just had eye surgery on both eyes. It’s been a long six months of weaning myself off my gas permeable contact lenses so that the eye surgeon could figure out what strength of corrective lens to implant. During this process, I haven’t had great vision and haven’t read very much for pleasure. But now the surgery is over, my eyes have healed, and I can see again!!! I’m ready to dive back into the wonderful world of reading.

I have a nice stack of books on my sofa. These are the books I have just read, or I’m currently reading, or I intend to read over the summer. Of course as soon as I pick one of them up, I feel guilty for not spending the time writing. Oh, well, I’ll just have to deal with the guilt.

Damaged by Alex Kava
I had never read any of Ms. Kava’s novels before but I really enjoyed this advance copy. Wonderful characters and lots of excitement as the serial killer is tracked. I love the female Coast Guard rescue swimmer character and hope this wasn’t her last appearance.

Rules of Betrayal by Christopher Reich
I’m hoping to read this thriller soon. The plot involving a Doctors Without Borders surgeon and his double agent wife sounds great!

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest – all by Stieg LarssonI may be one of the few who haven’t read these books, but I’m determined to cure that oversight this summer. I’m just a few pages into the first of the three, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but I’m hooked.

Last week I went shopping in a real brick & mortar bookstore for books for my Dad’s birthday gift. I found him a non-fiction book about George Custer’s last stand and two thrillers whose titles escape me at the moment. The important part of this story – (insert smile) is that I also found a couple of books for me. Isn’t that amazing the way that works? I encourage everyone to shop for gifts in bookstores. I purchased The Ark by Boyd Morrison – a mystery concerning the search for Noah’s Ark. I’m about a chapter into it. So far someone has tried to kill the heroine twice in three days. I’m seeing a pattern and suspect foul play. I also bought the wonderful Nancy Pickard’s The Scent of Rain and Lightning. I read her last one set in Kansas and loved her writing. I’m anticipating great things from this new book!

How about you? What are you reading? What do you plan to read this summer?

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

The Business of Rejection

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by Susan McBride

It feels as though I’ve spent my whole life writing (and I have, in one form or another). I’ve been a published author for 11 years this month, starting at a small traditional press and ending up at two very big NY houses. For as many years before that I was struggling to get published, composing a manuscript a year and following all the advice laid out in Writer’s Digest in order to achieve my dreams. As you can imagine, in that decade-plus before I signed my first contract, I suffered plenty of rejection. Maybe I’m a bit of a masochist, but I saved every letter. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve wall-papered the small guest bedroom I just re-decorated with those rejections, probably with some to spare.

I know I’ve said it before but it’s worth saying again: the publishing biz isn’t for sissies. Most of us don’t have insider contacts or celebrity names (hello, Tyra Banks, Lauren Conrad, Tori Spelling, any of the Real Housewives, etc., ad nauseum), so we have to go about things the slow and arduous way: write, rewrite, polish again for good measure, research agencies that represent our genre of fiction, submit a query, wait for a response, submit chapters or a full manuscript upon request, and wait some more. More often than not, we’re told “it’s just not right for us at the moment.” We’re instructed not to take rejection personally. It’s all about sales and numbers and branding and platforms. We shouldn’t take “no” to heart. As if!

Writers are kind of like Tootsie Pops: hard shell on the outside but with a softer candy center. After pouring our hearts and souls into our novels, they mean more to us than mere words on paper. They’re part of us, our children, and we want everyone to adore them as we do. When we’re doing the Hopeful Dance of the Unpubbed, we try anything to get a leg up, often turning toward published authors for advice (something that was much harder to do before the Internet). A few times, at book signings or at an RWA meeting, I sucked it up and asked for help. Yes, I was one of those, pulling out a manilla envelope with three chapters inside, begging, “If you have time, could you maybe take a look at this and see if I don’t suck.” If Poor-Put-Upon-Author agreed, I was thrilled. If I got an encouraging note returned in the SASE I’d enclosed, I practically wept with joy. Only no one ever said, “Hey, can I forward these fabulous chapters to my agent?” Dang it. But I kept plugging along, ultimately winning a small press contest that resulted in publication. When I had modest success with that first published work, it gave me the confidence to get out there, do lots of public speaking, and meet more and more people. I made wonderful friends who didn’t even flinch when I asked things like, “Is your agent taking on new clients?” and/or “Might you consider blurbing my next book?” Happily, I found the support I needed, but not everyone said, “Yes.” No matter if it stung a little, I couldn’t let those rejections deter me any more than the stack of letters. It’s the nature of the beast; and if we let it beat us, we lose.

Fast forward a few years to when several of my Debutante Dropout Mysteries sat on the bookshelves and I’d ultimately signed with an agency I adored, one that was interested in my career, not just one novel. I worked harder than ever, promoted like a demon, wrote the best stories possible, and kept building on my foundation of readers and colleagues and honest-to-God friends, all of which propelled me forward, if not by leaps and bounds then at least by baby steps. I watched as publishing houses merged and restructured, creating a scary ripple effect throughout the industry. I realized then that just staying in the business isn’t always easy. Times change, markets shift, trends come and go, and sometimes survival isn’t based on talent as much as adaptability. It’s like being Madonna and adjusting your image. If she’d stayed in the ’80s like a virgin forever, we probably wouldn’t care about her latest boy-toy or wonder about her age-defying plastic surgeries. We would’ve forgotten her already.

Recently, I read about a book edited by Bill Shapiro called OTHER PEOPLE’S REJECTION LETTERS. (Oh, Bill, you should’ve called. I could’ve given you a dozen of ’em. Er, make that a gross.) Here are few prime examples contained within:

Have you seen the letter Andy Warhol received from the Museum of Modern Art rejecting his gift of a drawing due to “severely limited gallery and storage space”? What about the 1962 letter from Jimi Hendrix’s commanding officer recommending that he be immediately discharged from the army because he “can’t carry on an intelligent conversation”? The gifted writers who penned the screenplay for Casablanca were told that their work wouldn’t make the cut because it was “unacceptably sex suggestive.” Gertude Stein received a mocking rejection letter from a publisher that read, in part, “Only one look is enough. Hardly one copy would sell here. Hardly one. Hardly one.”

Did you know that Kathryn Stockett, international best-selling author of THE HELP, received over 45 rejections before her book was sold? Or that Jasper Fford suffered 76 rejections for THE EYRE AFFAIR? And Judy Blume received “nothing but rejections for two years?” (For more enlightening stories of famous authors who were told “no” a ton before they succeeded, check out this bit on Inky Girl.)

Just out of curiosity, anyone want to share the most memorable rejection they ever got? The one that stands out in my head was a returned query letter that had “NO!!!” scrawled across the bottom in red pencil. Ah, yes, I remember telling myself the poor sod probably had a rotten day (and then I quietly wished a heart attack upon him).

Who’ll Be the Next American Idol?

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I’m an American Idol fan. My kids and I started watching the show the year Carrie Underwood won. It was a good year to start. Carrie has a powerful voice and a strong presence. She’s sure of herself, and even now, throughout all her success, she seems (from the outside) to be sure of herself and to know who she is.


Then Daughtry came along. I liked him, but haven’t bought his music. What struck me most about Daughtry was his marriage and his commitment to his wife. He’s been on a good ride from what I’ve seen, I like his music, and I hope he’s still with his wife and that fame hasn’t compromised his values.


Last year, Adam Lambert took the spotlight. His success has been phenomenal. He’s been clear about his goal–fame. He’s super talented, has his hit song, One, and is still riding his skyrocket to superstardom.


It’s all good, but this year I’m rooting for Lee DeWyze. I like Casey and Crystal, but Lee’s humbleness and his transformation from shy to confident has been great to watch. He seems like a genuinely nice person (as they all do), and his authenticity makes him so likable. Like Daughtry, he seems to be so grounded and is truly astounded by his own journey and success so far. And his version of Hallelujah was really phenomenal. I love his husky voice and the emotion which comes through his singing.


Lee’s safe for another week, and may end up being the American Idol. We’ll know in a week whether it’ll be him or Crystal, but regardless, they’re all winners and all three of the final contestants are worthy and authentic. Heck, I’ll buy all their Cds.



American Idol is fun, but what I like most is seeing real people who appreciate the opportunity they’ve been given and are moved by moment they’re living in.


Are you an American Idol fan? Who are you rooting for?


~Misa

The Marriage Gene

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I recently read an article in the New York Times in which research about what it takes to have a happy marriage was detailed. The article posed the question “is there a fidelity gene” as well as “what makes a happy marriage”? The research is seemingly inconclusive, but I do know that a) I am happily married and b) according to the test done in this article, I shouldn’t be, based on my answers. (It was something to do with filling in the blanks in words and of course, I come up with the one that says I have a flirting gene. So what? So does my husband, apparently, who gave the exact same answers that I did.)

Oh, well.

I’ve been married long enough and have taken enough Cosmo quizzes to know not to put too much stock in the results of magazine or newspaper questionnaires. Just this morning, I took a test in a favorite magazine to see if I was left-brained or right-brained when it came to organization. According to the results, I am decidedly left-brained and should have the most organized house on the planet as a result. But just because I say that I like a place for everything and everything in its place, that doesn’t mean that I’m successful on the follow-through. Case in point: as I write this, I’m surrounded by fourteen manuscripts, about thirty pairs of shoes, two empty tape dispensers, and three half-empty cans of hardened paint. Does that sound like a left-brained mind to you?

But back to the happy marriage research. I decided to do my own, decidedly unscientific research into what it takes to have a happy marriage and surveyed some of my girlfriends who are in longstanding, happy unions. What makes a happy marriage? was the question. I told them, they couldn’t say “chardonnay,” because that’s already been taken.

Some of their responses:

“Separate vacations?” (I loved the question mark at the end, because apparently this friend was undecided as to whether or not a) she could say this, b) it was true, or c) both a and b.)

“Find a man who’s honest.” (This from a friend who says her husband will go back to a store to return 50 cents if he has received it in error. Sounds like a keeper. And my separated-at-birth twin.)

“Learn the art of communication.” (Friend who says that her husband, like many men, is unemotional to the point of being “Spock-like.” She has learned to temper her emotions and he has learned to become more sensitive.)

“Compromise…know when to give in…leave the ego at the door. We’re in this together and sometimes you need to give in.” (As far as I’m concerned, that works in theory, as long as he’s the one doing the compromising…I KID!)

“Keep the funny in a marriage not just by doing “fun” things but by keeping a sense of humor and by acting silly sometimes.” (Friend who reported this said it works with kids and pets, too. I haven’t found that to be true, but I’ll keep trying.)

Besides “chardonnay,” I got nuthin’. But I will say that marrying the easiest person in the world to live with (and I’m not talking about me here) definitely helps. As does marrying someone who likes to do the chores you abhor, like emptying the dishwasher, or taking care of outside stuff. There is also the sharing values thing and the ability to watch the television program that the other thinks is scintillating (which is why my husband knows all of the names of the “Real Housewives of New York City” and even knows that one of them isn’t really a housewife).

I have parents who definitely enjoy each other’s company and that, in itself, was the best model for happy marriage I could have. Sure, sometimes my husband thinks he married a woman with the brain and viewing habits of a fifteen-year-old boy based on my movie choices (“Dude, Where’s My Car?” anyone?) but we still prefer each other’s company to anyone else’s. That, and the fact, that we both fail quizzes that test one’s compatibility and adaptability to marriage is really all we need, I guess.

Chime in, Stiletto faithful (and I use that term loosely if you failed the fidelity quiz) with your secrets to a happy relationship.

Maggie Barbieri

The Good and the Bad About Living in A Big Old House

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We’ve lived in our home here in the foothills for 29 years. The house was old when we moved in. It was in the days before disclosure and there were many things wrong that we found out after the papers were all signed and we were settled in.

Along with the house we took over a residential care business which meant we lived in and cared for six women with developmental disabilities. This was a job my husband and I loved and we did it for 23 years–until we felt we were too old to do the job the way it needed to be done and life became complicated. Hubby and a son got sick at the same time and our focus needed to change.

A few feet away from the main house is a guest house which has been home to many over the years. First to live there were my mom and dad. My dad passed away and my mom decided to move with my sister to Las Vegas.

For a short while, my middle daughter and her husband lived there.

Next to move in that house were my granddaughter, husband, and three kids.

Now the little house is occupied by my son, his wife, and another granddaughter.

Before they lived there, when that granddaughter was in grammar school she lived in the big house with us during the week so she could go to our little neighborhood school.

We had two grandsons living with us during the time we had our care home. One went back to be with his mom, the other we had from the time he was 11 until he was 20 and went off on his own.

And, guess what, we have another adult grandson–different family–living with us again.

Most of the time everyone eats with us, probably a good thing because I have no idea how to cook for 2 since I’ve cooked for eight or more for years. Daughter-in-law helps and she always cleans up after dinner. Because the dining area is big and we have a round table that seats 12, we host most of the holiday dinners too.

Whether having all these family members under our roof is a plus or a minus depends upon the day. (I’m kidding.) Actually, now that hubby and I are getting older it’s kind of nice to have younger, stronger folks around to help out.

Over the years we’ve done a lot of remodeling: added car ports, extended the living room and built a bedroom and bath upstairs, did over the kitchen, and once our ladies had moved on to other homes, we changed a little sitting room into my office and did over two of the bedrooms the women used into one bedroom for us and modernized the bathroom. And of course we’ve had to fix all sorts of things from the water well to bringing in natural gas instead of using a wood stove to heat the house. (Yes, we did and what a chore that was.) We also have solar to cut down on the electric bill which has always been huge with so many people living here.

Besides the relatives who’ve resided with us over the years, we also have a resident ghost. Everyone who has shared our house has said so, some little ones insisted on sleeping with us rather than one of the many empty bedrooms we’ve had from time to time.

Doors open and close on their own, cupboard doors pop open, I hear someone come into the house and call out, but no one is there. Does this scare me? No. I don’t think ghosts can hurt–only frighten if you’re so inclined.

This has been a great house to write in. When we took care of the women, I had a small office in what used to be a sun porch. When the gals went off to their day program I wrote all morning while doing the laundry–something that had to be done every day. Now I have a larger office with lots of storage.

The first year we lived here, I received my first acceptance letter. I’ve belonged to the same critique group since my first year here. I’m known as Springville’s author–a plus of being in a small town.

I love the area where we live–we’re surrounded by hills and can see huge mountains which are still snow covered and will be for awhile. The Tule River flows right by us and we have a great swimming hole which all the family uses in the summer time.

My Deputy Tempe Crabtree mysteries are set in a place like Springville though I’ve renamed it Bear Creek and moved it up in the mountains another 1000 feet. People who live here recognize places I write about and love it. We’re near an Indian reservation and I include it in the books too–though again changed the name to the Bear Creek Indian Reservation. Ever so often a Native American will come up to me when I’m at craft festival and say, “You’re the lady who writes about us.”

Yes, I love where I live–the house and the area–both have been an inspiration for many of my books.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

KJ Roberts’ Pieces of the Star

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Ex-cop and brain tumor survivor, Vincent Maxwell has been recalled for a special assignment: Capture a killer. With no obvious common links or clues, Maxwell must work fast before another body turns up. What he discovers suggest more than his reputation is at stake. Wrapped up in an unbelievable world of superpowers, he’s dragged in deeper with a connection he never thought possible. Can he use the information to his advantage and stop the killer? Or will death strike before he finds answers?

Read an excerpt from Pieces of the Star
Leave a comment for a chance to win a free e-book copy.

***
Blood oozed from the corpse’s ear. Vince stooped down to examine the body. Foul death odor filled the air.

The man’s mouth gaped open and his eyes were wide in terror. Something horrible had happened to him, yet only a small gash existed in his right ear.

Vince looked around the area. The local police force hadn’t found any clues since five o’clock this morning when he’d gotten the call. Now the sun had begun to rise and people gathered around the yellow tape, murmuring worries about a possible serial killer.

Could anyone blame them? This was the second killing this month. Both victims had the same cut on the side of their head, but so far, they seemed to have nothing else in common.

“There you are.”

Vince turned around to see Captain Spinner and another cop standing behind him.

“This is the guy I was telling you about,” Captain Spinner said to the other guy. “Sergeant Elder, this is the famous Vincent Maxwell. Ex-cop, turned private investigator. Vince, this is Sergeant Fred Elder.”

Fred stuck his hand out, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open like he’d just seen a celebrity or something. Why, he didn’t know, but Vince shook his hand anyway and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Sgt. Elder. Captain, can I ask why you called me so early in the morning?”

“Maxwell.” The Captain wrapped his arm around Vince’s shoulder and walked him to the side. “How long have we known each other?”

“A long time.” Vince couldn’t remember how long exactly. Ever since his surgery, he’d had trouble retaining dates. “Seven or eight years.”

“And in that time frame, I’ve watched you grow as a man and a cop. But here lately you’ve become the best detective I’ve ever seen. You have a gift, and I have a madman on the loose.” He sighed and scratched his forehead. “We have no leads or clues. I can’t link the two victims, and I need your help.” Spinner looked around and lowered his voice. “Before there’s another stiff.”

“What do you want me to do? I gave up homicide.” After facing his own death and a long recovery, he wanted to work with the living.

“Yeah, I know, but you can’t enjoy following cheating spouses for pennies.”

True, the work bored him to tears. The men he trailed were reckless and they left clues like breadcrumbs. All he had to do was lay in wait and snap a few photographs. Assignment finished and on to the next job.

Plus, something odd had happened to him after his tumor had been removed. He couldn’t explain it, but his senses had grown sharper. Cases had become clearer, and he’d learned to predict the perpetrator’s next move effortlessly.

Spinner chewed his nail as he waited for an answer.

Physically fit and able to handle the mission, Vince craved the excitement. However, he’d grown accustomed to life without a boss.

“Okay. I’ll do it, but I’ll handle things my own way. And I work alone.”

“No problem.” Spinner held up his hands to indicate he’d back off.

* * * *

Spinner watched Maxwell walk back to the crime scene. He turned to Elder and motioned for him to come over.

“Elder, Maxwell’s taking the case. I have no doubt he can handle the work. However, I’m a bit worried about his physical condition. Keep an eye on him. He’s a good man and a better cop. I’d hate to see something happen to him.”

“No problem, Captain. I’ve been dying to watch Maxwell in action.”

____________

Country girl born and raised, KJ Roberts has been writing for longer than she can remember. It’s a natural part of life to her. Indiana native, her stories are usually set in the Hoosier state. After a ten year stent in the military, she moved to Mississippi with her husband and two kids. She loves reading, listening to her son play guitar and watching her daughter dance. Check out her blog.

Pieces of the Star
Buy from FIDO publishing
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Define Cheating

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Good heavens. What is the world coming to when I’m quoting Hugh Hefner?

“When you get married, you make a commitment. I had a lot of girlfriends, but it’s not the same as cheating. I don’t cheat. I am very open about what I do . . . I think that when you are in a relationship, you should be honest. The real immorality of infidelity is the lying.”

You know, he’s right and I sort of feel like I need to go take a shower, having admitted that. Although to be fair, I used to snicker when I would hear how guys read Playboy for the articles. But now that I’m doing a Young Adult biography of a celebrity, some of the best insights I’ve found on this movie star have been in a couple of interviews he gave to Playboy. Hmmm. Don’t judge a magazine by its centerfold?

Anyway, to go back to Hugh’s comments about honesty in a relationship, I think he’s zeroed in on a critical issue. So much of a strong marriage is based on a fundamental trust between the two partners. I don’t care what the rules of a relationship may be, as long as both partners willingly buy into them. Personally I don’t understand the appeal of “open marriages,” but if two consenting adults want to live that way, then it’s none of my business.

But what is never okay is when one partner unilaterally changes the rules that both have agreed to live by. Pardon the earthquake analogy, but surely infidelity is considered pretty high on the relationship Richter scale. Once you shake up the foundation, it’s possible that the “house” can stand, but you sure would want to bring in a contractor (or in this case, a marriage counselor) to work on the cracks that have inevitably been opened up.

Now I’ve got a question for the Stiletto Faithful. Do you consider it cheating if there isn’t any contact between the two people? Is internet flirting a form of cheating? For me, infidelity doesn’t have to have a physical component. In fact, the idea of emotional cheating sounds more destructive. But what do you think?

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/

How Not to Marry the Wrong Guy: The Little Pink Book That Could

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by Anne Milford and Jennifer Gauvain

When our friend—and fellow St. Louisan—Susan McBride invited us to guest-blog at the Stiletto Gang, my co-author Jennifer Gauvain and I were thrilled. It’s an honor to be in the company of such great female authors!

As we write this, we are in a post-launch-week fog. Our book, How Not to Marry the Wrong Guy, hit shelves nationwide last week. Between media interviews, a 22-city radio tour, and our launch party, we are exhausted. But it’s a great kind of exhausted.

We had a sense of déjà vu on Friday night as we rolled out the wedding cake, fluffed the tulle bows and set up the bar at our one of our favorite indie booksellers—Pudd’nHead Books. Hadn’t we just done this? Indeed, just twelve months earlier we had celebrated the launch of our self-published version (How to Marry the Wrong Guy) with a pseudo-wedding reception in the exact same spot.

What a year it has been! Writing a book has been one of the most wonderful, ego-crushing, exciting, and insecurity-laden experiences of our lives. Both versions of the book share the stories of women who knew their marriages were mistakes as they were walking down the aisle but continued anyway. As a therapist (Jennifer) and a women who almost married the wrong guy (Anne), we were obsessed with uncovering the reasons why so many women ignore their gut feelings and say, ‘I do,’ when they really want to shout, ‘No, no, I really don’t!’”

Last summer we were thrilled when our little self-pubbed book received lots of local—as well as some national—media attention. While we knew our work wasn’t over when we finished the book, we grossly underestimated what it would take to sell it. We spent countless hours doing our own promotion and marketing. We booked speaking engagements, networked, tweeted, and “Facebooked” like maniacs to build a fan base. We did whatever it took to promote “our baby.” To say we were obsessed would be an understatement! (Just ask our husbands.)

Both of us sold books wherever we went: in the carpool line (10 books!), at the swim club (at least 40 books!), at the dentist’s office (three books—one to the hygienist and two to the ladies eavesdropping in the waiting room!). Both of our minivans contained at least two cartons of books at all times. Jennifer took the prize for selling two books at the OB/gyn’s office—while in stirrups! The above doesn’t even include the time we spent packing, shipping, bookkeeping, and standing in line at the post office.

Why did we do this? Because we wanted to help women have better, happier, and healthier relationships. We felt it was worth the time and effort if we helped women get “unstuck” from the wrong guys. It was thrilling to receive grateful emails from readers and we were excited to hear about four weddings (that we know of!) that were canceled as a result of our book. However, after battling distribution challenges and one too many phone calls telling us that a bookseller said our book was “out of print,” we became very discouraged.

So when an agent came a-calling we listened. A fairy godmother had placed our book in his hands and he liked what he saw. And we liked him. He very tactfully suggested changes to the original manuscript and helped us write a proposal for a larger publisher. We were thrilled with the possibility of bringing a revised edition to a wider audience. Our brilliant agent did a stellar job, so stellar in fact we had an auction for the North American rights! And on October 7 of 2009, we signed with Random House/Broadway Books.

It has been a whirlwind of rewrites and revisions. Between our editor, publicist, and marketing rep, we have a dream team at Broadway Books. We are excited about helping even more women. And while it has been gratifying to become published authors, the best part has been making a difference in the lives of women. Not to mention the wonderful people we have met along the way. And since old habits die hard, if you know anyone who is stuck in a dead-end relationship, we have just the book for them. In fact, if you can’t find it at the store, we may have a couple of copies in the back of our minivans!

Anne Milford and Jennifer Gauvain are the authors of How Not to Marry the Wrong Guy: Is He the One or Should You Run? (Broadway/Random House, May 2010). Gauvain works as a marriage and family therapist and Milford is a freelance writer and editor. For more information visit their website at coldfeetpress.com. To order from booksellers, click here.

Ch-ch-changes

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I recently shared my upcoming manuscript—Third Degree—with a trusted friend who is also a book reviewer by trade. She pulls no punches. She always lets me know what she likes and what she thinks is not so great. (She still contends that Quick Study was her favorite, and to her mind, my best. I beg to differ. The best one is the one that just came out. Every single time.) I hold my breath until she finished whatever I have shared with her and this time, I was relieved that she really enjoyed the soon-to-be-published work. I also thought it curious her overall reaction: “I like that your characters live lives. They change. They make mistakes. They move on.”

I got to thinking about this because some of the mysteries I love best include characters for whom nothing ever changes. Nancy Drew never got any older (nor did she get to second base with Ned, a disappointing fact to the fifteen-year-old I once was). The Hardy Boys stayed just slightly post-pubescent (again, a major disappointment until I was able to visualize them as Parker Stevenson and Shaun Cassidy). Miss Marple never married. Stephanie Plum remains in limbo, caught between two men, blowing up a new vehicle in each subsequent book in the series.

But in the Murder 101 series, mayhem ensues in terms of mystery and in terms of just living life because to me, Alison, Crawford, and the cast of characters are real and I can’t imagine them standing still. I recently mentioned to my editor—the fabulous Kelley—that I was thinking of taking Alison to Dublin to do some Joyce research in a novel down the road. I asked her if she thought that was a good idea. Her answer? “Only if everyone else goes with her.”

I see what she’s saying, but I wonder how realistic it is for Fr. Kevin, Max, Fred, and a host of other people in Alison’s “life” to hit the road with her and spend a summer in Dublin researching Alison’s dissertation subject, James Joyce? When it comes down to it, it really isn’t. So the challenge becomes how to keep Alison and her peeps interesting without taking them too far out of their milieu or just far enough.

It’s always been easy for me to write about Alison and the other characters because they live in a very distinct world that is not entirely unlike mine, except for the part where they occasionally trip over dead bodies or find heroin residing in their plumbing. My life is exceedingly routine: get the kids off to school, walk the dog, empty the dishwasher, do the laundry. Oh, and write. I’m supposed to write in there somewhere. I’m not complaining. It’s a great life. But there wouldn’t be a series if Alison’s life was just like mine. It also wouldn’t be a series if I didn’t create an alternate universe where my grown-up Nancy Drew finds the dead bodies or tries to flush a brick of heroin down the toilet. Nobody wants to read about my life, but some people want to read about Alison’s and the goal is to keep her life interesting.

I guess my question for you, Stiletto faithful, is do you like characters that live lives? Or are you more comfortable with characters who stay pretty much the same? How much do you have to suspend disbelief to enjoy your favorite amateur sleuth’s investigations?

Maggie Barbieri

It’s a Small, Small World

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Last Saturday I attended the Central Valley Jane Austen Fest as a vendor. Frankly, I felt a bit out of place–though I wasn’t the only one. Selling modern-day mysteries at an event celebrating Jane Austen didn’t seem quite right–but the organizer insisted that I come. I’m glad I did because I really had fun meeting people, seeing the costumes some of the attendees wore, and talking about my books to the different people who stopped at my table–and I even sold quite a few books.

One of them came directly to me and asked, “Are you Marilyn Meredith who is part of the Stiletto Gang?” I assured her I was and she identified herself as Anjali Kapoor-Davis and she’s related somehow to Misa. We had a super visit. I included the photo even though my eyes are closed–that’s why I put in the one of me with my eyes open.

I had no idea so many people were so enthusiastic about Jane Austen and her books. Most of the people who came were women, but as you can see, even men came dressed in authentic clothing.

Most interesting was a group of teenage boys who stopped to talk for awhile. They were reading Jane Austen in high school and said they loved the books and their teacher suggested they come to the event.

Will I go again next year? Sure, if they invite me.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com