Brand A or Mango? Help me decide…

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For the fifth time in as many years, I’m shopping for a new computer to replace the one that no longer works, otherwise known as “their computer” which is the opposite of “my computer.”

And I’m getting darned tired of it.

I have stuck with the same PC company for all of these years, but I’m nothing if not astute. Perhaps I should switch brands/platforms? Because the five computers that I have owned have all been replaced, one after another, by newer, faster, and sleeker models all because their predecessors have bitten the dust in one way or another.

Horrible virus that wipes out your hard drive? Check.

Computer won’t start? Check.

Computer freezes to screen saver page but won’t allow you to open any applications? Check.

Internet won’t connect and gives you a notification that tells you what your problem is in numbers only? Check.

Computer instructs you to call technical support? Check.

Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think that computers should be disposable. Why is it that computers, like cars, depreciate in value once you open the box and set them up? Why can’t they last for say, oh, three years or even past the warranty date?

PC companies would have you believe that if you switch to the company with the fruit name—let’s call it Mango or “Mang” for short—that nothing you do with other PC users will be applicable, something I’ve come to find is a complete falsehood. (I’m highly suggestible.) The PC companies would also have you believe that their products are much more affordable. This is true. Know why? Because Mango’s computers don’t have to be replaced every year! And Mango’s computers are safe from most viruses! This is important to me because my computer(s) have never met a virus they didn’t like. Every time a new virus is identified and word gets out to concerned PC users everywhere, I usually already know because I’ve already dealt with the virus and am dealing with the guys at Geek Squad who swear they’ve never seen a virus as bad as the one I’ve brought in. (That’s always comforting.)

We’re currently down to one computer, the one on which I work and write, and that just isn’t going to work for a family of four. When everyone is home, that means that they lay in wait until I take a bathroom break and then line up beside my desk like cars waiting to cross the Canadian border, just waiting for the opportunity to check their email. Scintillating exchanges occur like “r u home?” or “I’m lol-ing” or “what r u doing?” all of which could be discussed at length by using the more reliable but far less technologically-cool landline.

I live in fear that my trusty laptop will die and we will have no computer at all. And then I’ll have to run to Mango to purchase something as soon as possible, always a recipe for disaster. I’ll probably get talked into a 50 inch monitor with web cam and complete mani/pedi capabilities and that’s never a good thing. I’ll over-buy. Because that’s what I do in panic situations. (See Bluetooth capable car with no Bluetooth-capable cell phone as an example.)

So I’m asking you, dear Stiletto Gang readers, what do you suggest? Stick with generic-PC company, also known as Brand A? Or switch to Mango (Mang for short)?

We Catholics have a patron saint for everything. I think we need one for computers. I’d feel so much better if I could pray for my computer’s continued health.

Maggie Barbieri

Getting Old is a Pain

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Truly thought I’d written my blog for today–and was reminded that I hadn’t. Only one of the many things that I’ve forgotten along the way.

It always makes me happy when some younger person tells me he or she is forgetful too so I can think for awhile that it’s not old-age creeping up on me.

Yesterday I went to the doc’s for my annual physical. The parking lot was packed and I had to go find an alternate place to park–a vacant lot–and walk back. The waiting room was standing room only with several people sitting outside on benches. Several of the folks wore masks. I always go prepared for a long wait and had a good book to read.

I learned the reason for the crowd was people wanting flu shots. I was called in for my time with the doctor. I was chatting with him about the “pleasures” of getting old and mentioned that a lot of things that I saw my mom go through I have experienced too. I said, “My mom and my sister both had kidney stones, but I haven’t.” He said, “Then you have something to look forward to,” and laughed.

He’s a charmer though, the whole time he was doing his exam, he asked me questions about my writing, including if I could sit down and have lunch with any writer who would it be? I have the good fortune of knowing many writers and having lunch with quite a few of them. But thinking about the question now, I think it would be great fun to have lunch and a good visit with all the members of the Stiletto Gang.

What author or authors would you most like to have lunch and visit with?

Marilyn
http://www.fictionforyou.com

Elastic Waistbands and Gourmet

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I don’t read Vogue, even for free in the beauty salon. The clothes are designed for women who are six inches taller than I’ll ever be, 50 pounds lighter, and priced at 200 times my average purchase. And frankly, none of the outfits have elastic waists. Plus the models always wear heels – ‘nuff said.

So why was I struck with sadness to note the closing of Gourmet magazine? It’s not like I was ever going to make one of their 15-step recipes, with ingredients that can’t be found within a 25-mile radius of my home, and cost more than my weekly grocery bill? But for me, Gourmet was Vogue for cooks, but with all that butter in the recipes, understood that elastic waists are a given. I didn’t actually want to cook anything in the magazine, but they made food look gorgeous and inviting. Sort of like a designer showcase house – you don’t actually want to live there since there probably isn’t a comfortable chair in the place – but it’s fascinating to see the different decorator visions.

I like to cook. I find it relaxing and creative. So it’s no surprise that Rachel Brenner, the co-star of Murder Off the Books and Murder Takes the Cake, enjoys preparing meals. Her pantry always has the makings of something good, even when unexpected guests show up at six in the morning. For Rachel – and me – cooking touches a primeval instinct to provide for family.

My mother, the original Evelyn, had zero interest in food preparation. She had a full-time job and my Dad traveled three out of four weeks in the month. So my childhood dinners were some broiled overdone meat and two cans of vegetables. Throw in an iceberg lettuce salad, and dinner was on the table in under 10 minutes and consumed in under five. In contrast, however, our holiday meals were always bountiful and delicious – because she insisted that the best way to create a holiday meal was to buy it. The emphasis was on being together –not being stuck in the kitchen.

And that’s actually the part that Evelyn, the original, Rachel, the character, and I share. While I enjoy puttering around the kitchen, what I really love is seeing my family and friends around the table with me (in my elastic waist slacks!).

Au Revoir, Gourmet magazine. You will be missed.

Evelyn David

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

Death Will Help You Leave Him

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“If the cops say it’s murder, ‘I’m sorry’ is the wrong thing to say.”
– Elizabeth Zelvin

The quotation above is one of my favorite lines from my new mystery, DEATH WILL HELP YOU LEAVE HIM. I take no credit for it. My protagonist, recovering alcoholic Bruce Kohler, sits there on the inside of my head and thinks these things up. But he’s put his finger on the problem of codependents, who compulsively apologize for everything, whether they’re responsible for it or not.

The codependent in this particular case is Bruce’s sidekick Barbara’s friend Luz, who becomes the prime suspect when her abusive boyfriend is found dead in her apartment. I usually describe Barbara as a world-class codependent. She is always sorry, but she’s also always controlling and helping whether you want her to or not and sticking her nose into everybody’s business. It makes her a terrific amateur sleuth. She’s even found a way to channel her compulsion to rescue and fix everybody around her by becoming an addictions counselor. And she goes to Al-Anon, not only for help with her long-term relationship with recovering alcoholic Jimmy, but also to try to develop some boundaries. She tries really hard, but she’s always backsliding, which is what makes her so much fun to write.

Anyhow, Luz is Barbara’s Al-Anon sponsee, and her abusive boyfriend Frankie (the dead guy by the time we meet him in Chapter One) is a typical addict (he’s been to rehab, but his motivation is questionable) who controls the relationship by concurring with his codependent girlfriend that everything is all her fault. That ill timed “I’m sorry” is not Luz’s confession, but her apology for calling Barbara in the middle of the night and inconveniencing her—and Jimmy and Bruce, whom of course Barbara drags along as she gallops to the rescue—by asking for support with cops in the apartment and her lover dead on the floor.

I’ve been writing and lecturing about codependency since long before I wrote any mysteries about recovery. Neither Bruce nor I made up the line about how when codependents are drowning, someone else’s life flashes before their eyes. It’s a well known phenomenon. Codependents also apologize when somebody steps on their toes. They go through agonies of guilt about saying no to anyone, whether it’s a panhandler asking for a dollar or the boss demanding they work overtime on their birthday. One of recovering codependents’ mantras is: “ ‘No’ is a complete sentence.” Easy to say, but very hard to do if you’re addicted to caring what other people think. If whoever said, “Never apologize and never explain,” (Disraeli?) had said it to a codependent, the codependent would have tied him- or herself into knots explaining why even though it was wonderful advice, they personally could never do that—and they were so, so sorry.

Elizabeth Zelvin

Elizabeth Zelvin is a New York City psychotherapist. Her second mystery, DEATH WILL HELP YOU LEAVE HIM, is available for preorder and will be in stores on October 13. The first in the series, DEATH WILL GET YOU SOBER, was a David award nominee, and a related short story was nominated for an Agatha. Another story appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, and a third will appear in A GIFT OF MURDER, a holiday anthology to benefit Toys for Tots. Liz’s author website is at www.elizabethzelvin.com. She blogs on Poe’s Deadly Daughters.

International Dog of Mystery

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On Tuesday the collective Evelyn David received a pleasant surprise. We got a look at the cover of the Japanese version of Murder Off the Books, the first book in the Sullivan Investigation series. We can’t wait to get our hands on an actual copy. We found it interesting that the title has been slightly altered: It’s Murder Off the Book (singular) for the Japanese audience.

It was during the Thanksgiving holiday in 2007, that we first received an e-mail from an agent in Japan. The agent contacted us through our website (If you’re a writer, don’t let anyone tell you that websites aren’t important.). She was working for a publisher who was interested in acquiring the Japanese rights to Murder Off the Books.

Thrilled, we forwarded her email to our agent. He assured us that the agent was real, the interest legitimate. Can’t remember a Thanksgiving that I’ve enjoyed more: turkey, dressing, family, and a possible Japanese sale of our novel – doesn’t get much better than that.

Like everything in the publishing world, nothing happens quickly. It was spring 2008 before we signed our contract and received our advance. After that it was just waiting to see when the book would be published. We knew this summer when they asked for information about obtaining the rights to use the photograph of the Irish wolfhound on our cover, “Whiskey,” that publication of the book was moving forward.

We’re going to be keeping our fingers crossed that Japanese readers fall in love with Mac, Rachel, Whiskey, and the Sullivan Investigations gang. If so, maybe they’ll want the second book in the series, Murder Takes the Cake.

Maybe in book three we’ll send Mac and Whiskey on a trip to Tokyo. I hear they have Golden Arches over there now – anyone who’s read our mysteries knows Whiskey loves McDonald’s!

Sayonara,

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Do I Care?

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Lots going on in the world this week so I’ve taken some time to wonder “do I care”? Let’s find out, shall we?

David Letterman had “relations” with several staffers, none of whom were married. He was. Do I care? No. It’s his private life—as well as Mrs. Letterman’s and his young son’s—but really, does it matter to any of us? Do I care about the mea culpas and whether they were genuine, funny, sarcastic, or smarmy?

Not a whit.

Here’s the thing—if we find out that Letterman sexually harassed any of these women, women who worked for him, then we have a different kettle of fish to fry. (And yes, I’m the queen of mixed metaphors.) My “do I care” will turn to “I most certainly do care” in a heartbeat. Because using your power to manipulate those in a subordinate position to you is certainly a crime. Having an affair while involved with someone else—while reprehensible in my book—is not. The extortion plot? Also a crime. But Letterman’s dalliances are not my business and I would rather not hear about them anymore. Go back to stupid pet tricks, Dave. Or in your case, stupid human tricks.

Crime is crime, but bad moral character is just that. And I just don’t care if my 11:30 pm talk show host guy is a philandering s.o.b.

Roman Polanski was extradicted from France after thirty years on the lam for raping a thirteen-year-old girl after plying her with champagne and Qualuudes. Do I care? You betcha. As a woman, a mother, and a person living in a society where children should matter more than they do, this event tips the scales a little more toward goodness. She was not a consenting participant in this event no matter what Mr. Polanski—or his apologists, too many to even believe—have to say on the matter.

There’s a reason that the person holding the scales of justice is a woman. I hope Mr. Polanski is as frightened as his victim presumably once was. About this I care deeply.

Jon Gosselin has suspended taping of “Jon and Kate Plus Eight.” Do I care? No, siree. Well, let’s amend that; maybe I do care if only because now those poor, innocent children will finally be able to live their collective lives off camera. Maybe something positive did come out of this after all.

I’m thinking that this post makes me sound angrier than I intend but when I realized that I had to wade through several articles on the Letterman issue in the newspaper this morning—as well as the details as to whether Polanski will ever make it here to stand trial—to find out what really was going on in the world, I got my panties in a twist so to speak. And when I saw yet another celebrity come out in support of Roman Polanski, I got a little more irate. And when I saw the Gosselins on television yet again, I was near stroke. I want to know what’s going on in the world at large, the global community, and my world. And no, I don’t mean what Michelle Obama wore overseas to try to secure the Olympics for Chicago (which I kind of care about because that woman—same age as I—really rocks the shift dress). I mean what our government is doing (or not doing, as the case may be), how our troops are faring overseas, how close we are to figuring out how to give health care coverage to the majority of citizens in this country. Or how we’re going to help the one in four American families who have had a member experience job loss in the past year. And on the lighter side, who the Mets fired and why, whether Eli will be able to throw on Sunday, and how Mark Sanchez is faring after getting spanked by the Saints. The important stuff. The stuff that matters to me.

So do I care about David Letterman? Not so much.

Roman Polanski? To the extent that if he is found guilty, his butt is fried by both a court of law and the court of public opinion.

The Gosselins? Not at all. Except for eight little children who deserve a childhood.

Your thoughts? What matters to you? And what images or stories are you assaulted with every day that send you over the edge?

Maggie Barbieri

Back from a Weekend in San Luis Obispo

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I love the coast. I’m speaking of California’s Central Coast. We lived in a beach community for over twenty years before moving to our present home in the foothills of the Sierra (above the Central Valley of California). Where we live now, we have real seasons–not as extreme as what some of my fellow bloggers experience, but the trees do turn color (in Southern California it’s green all year around), it gets cold, rains, and once in awhile it snows and we can see snow all around us on the mountains during the winter. And spring is wonderful, though sometimes we only get two or three days before it’s summer–summer is hot and lasts forever.

San Luis Obispo is one of those places near the beach and it stays green all year long. They think it’s hot when it turns 80. Most of the time the weather is wonderful there. It was not on Sunday.

We traveled to San Luis Obispo to attend the Central Coast Author and Book Festival.
We stayed at the Apple Farm Inn, a place we’d always wanted to experience. Our room was small, but so darling, with a canopy bed, couch and chair, a desk, an armoire, a fake fireplace and a two fresh carnations in a vase hanging on the mirror in the bathroom. The Apple Farm has beautiful flowers everywhere. The restaurant has wonderful food and most of the wait staff are students at the nearby college.

Our first evening we met friends at an interesting restaurant that is by a creek and most of the tables are outdoors. It was chilly that night and I was afraid I would be too cold–but they had heaters all around and it was quite comfortable. Victoria Heckman Doust and her hubby were there–she’s a fellow mystery author and I hadn’t seen her since we roomed together in Anchorage AK at Bouchercon. Karen Kavanaugh is also a mystery author and a publisher and she’s been a good friend for a long while. Needless to say, besides having a wonderful meal, the conversation was great.

The next morning, we arrived at the Central Coast Book and Author Festival about 8:30and found out our assigned spot. We were situated between the Central Coast Sisters in Crime booth and Madeline Gornell’s booth, another mystery writer and friend.

People started wandering by almost immediately. It looked like it would be a great day. Unfortunately, a chilly wind began to blow. It blew so hard it turned some of the umbrellas we all had over our table upside down. Authors’ decorations blew away. Picture frames fell over and glass broke. The wind seem to chase some of the interested people away too.

Oh, we all sold some books, but not as many if the weather had been a bit more cooperative. Despite all that, I felt the weekend was a success. A reader who bought a book from me at a book fest a couple of weeks ago, found me to get the next one in the series. I met a lot of people, handed out cards, talked about my books and visited with friends.

I have one more outdoor festival coming up in two weeks, the Springville Apple Festival. It’s a two day affair and almost in my back yard. We’ll be sleeping at home. I do hope the weather is a bit more cooperative.

For the writers who read this, what book selling venture did you attend that didn’t quite go the way you hoped for?

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Trust Yourself

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I’ve been proof-reading the galleys of my newest project, The Everything Baby’s First Year Book, which will be published January 18, 2010. While it’s been quite a while since I had kids in diapers, it’s amazing how the excitement of those days, as well as the fears and worries flood back.

I hope this book empowers new parents because while there are experts on just about every baby topic you can imagine, the one thing moms and dads should know is that THEY are the experts of their child. Read the advice, ask questions, carefully evaluate what you’ve been told, learn the tricks of the trade from those who have been in the trenches, but trust your own instincts too. You know what works best for you and your baby.

If I could give one piece of advice to new moms, it would be trite, but true. Don’t sweat the small stuff. I’d give anything to get back the hours I fretted over whether child number one would ever sleep through the night (now a bomb could go off next to his head and he wouldn’t roll over); whether he would ever be toilet-trained (I assure you he was); whether he would ever write legibly (which is why they invented word processing); whether he would be friends with the most popular kids in the class (the answer was NEVER because they were little snots and he knew it, but I didn’t. He made his own friends which have remained tried and true through the years). I worried he didn’t go to his junior prom, in fact, had one heck of a row with him about it and he just brushed me off, stubborn (or one might say, confident) in his decision. And he was more than happy to go to his senior prom, when he was good and ready.

I would have learned to trust HIS judgment and my own. I would have believed – as of course I did when I had subsequent children – that each kid marches to his own drummer and you’ve got to listen to that beat, and not allow it to be drowned out by the others in the crowd.

What I did know then – and now – is that you can never love a child too much. I wasn’t worried about spoiling any of them by giving kisses and hugs, for reasons and no reason at all. I did have standards – even if the older kids all insisted that I had let the baby of the family run wild (their definition? I bought chocolate milk one day!).

So I read these galleys with a wistful smile and a fervent hope that new parents enjoy these precious days of childhood because they go by way too fast, even if you are so sleep-deprived that you can’t imagine surviving that first year, let alone thriving.

Enjoy!

Evelyn David
http//www.evelyndavid.com

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David

Garanimals for Grown-Ups

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by Susan McBride

I love October, and not just because it’s my birthday month. The older I get, the happier I am when summer has ended. Since I shun the sun (how else can I keep my ghostly pale complexion?), I’m a lot less fond of shorts and bathing suits than I used to be. I long for crisp days when jeans and sweaters are the norm. And I’m thrilled that scarves are in, even with T-shirts. I’ve never worn scarves much before, except thick woolly ones to keep the cold at bay; but my fashion sense keeps changing as I, um, mature. When I go shopping now, I realize I’m drawn to items that I would’ve bypassed maybe even a year ago. I’m less prone to buy trendy things and more enamored of classics (although I’ll never dress in Polo head-to-toe again as I did during my early college days!).

I guess I’ve got clothes on the brain as I desperately need to clean out my closets (more like purge) and sort out what fits, what I don’t wear, and what I’m lacking. The last four years have kind of ravaged my wardrobe as I’ve gone through so many changes. Back in 2005, I had shrunk down to a size zero after eating healthier (read: going vegetarian) and trying (successfully) to get my cholesterol down. I had new author photos shot, and the photographer had sent me out with a stylist because “you’re much cooler on the inside than you are on the outside,” as she put it. I was advised that my hairstyle was too “anchor-woman-ish” and my sweater-sets had to go. The stylist definitely kick-started my interest in fashion again. I realized, too, that when you’re the size of a clothes hanger, everything looks terrific. I had wonderful outfits that I wore with high heels to speaking engagements, conferences, social outings, wherever. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw in “Sex & the City” (minus the cigarettes and the promiscuous sex).

Then came my breast cancer diagnosis in late 2006. The first thing I craved out of surgery was a hamburger (which I inhaled–God, it tasted good!–but haven’t had since). I was told on no uncertain terms to eat more protein during radiation therapy so I consumed plenty of yogurt, nuts, fish, and chicken. My doctors were thrilled when I put on 10 pounds, and my friends and family breathed a sigh of relief, too. I hadn’t realized until then that everyone thought my skinny (albeit very healthy and energetic) self had resembled nothing more than a “bobble-head doll” or a “human lollipop.” Nice. As for my fashion sense during this rough period: I lived in camisoles and sweats. Comfort was key. I worried more about healing and feeling strong again and less about dressing like a magazine cover girl. So my chic little clothes and high heels gathered dust. Once I recovered from treatment and started working out again, I lost a few pounds as I got back in shape; but my size zero days were gone for good. Which meant I had a closet filled with clothes that didn’t fit.

Once I donated some things to charity and gave others to petite friends and relatives, I was left with a wardrobe mostly comprised of various colored zip-up jackets with matching camisoles, jeans, and sweatpants. Perfect attire for writing, but not exactly how I want to dress when I’m doing a bunch of speaking gigs this month…or promoting THE COUGAR CLUB next February.

I wish there were Garanimals for grown-ups with colored tags that told me what went with what. It would make life so much easier. I find it amazing how my tastes have changed over time. I want to look good, but I need to be comfortable. I’d like fewer pieces that work together better. I want to wear heels on some occasions and flats on others, depending on what I’m doing. It’s kind of like my changing wardrobe reflects the changes I’ve made in my life. I’m learning to focus on fewer things that are more important, to toss the bad stuff as fast as I can, and to celebrate all the good stuff. It’s taken me awhile to figure out that it’s the good stuff that never goes out of style.

P.S. I’ve done a MAJOR closet overhaul, donating three fat bags of clothes and shoes to charity. Whew. That calls for a little shopping to celebrate, don’t you think?

On the Clothesline

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Writing clothes has developed into a theme on the Stiletto Gang this week. I’ve been thinking of what I have to say on the matter. Unfortunately, it’s not much. I write at night. So when I write, I wear whatever I wore to work that day minus shoes, jacket and jewelry. I pull my hair back in a ponytail, grab a Pepsi One, maybe some Strawberry Twizzlers, and I’m good to go.

Of course I do have to dress my “people.” Descriptions of clothing can help define your characters. Anyone who has read Murder Off the Books can tell you what kind of clothes JJ wears.

“Can I help you?” A young woman in her late teens reluctantly looked up from her computer screen, then stood and stretched. Her short spiked black hair was shaved over her left ear, which sported a silver hoop earring the size of a tennis ball. A red plaid flannel shirt, cargo pants, black studded leather belt, and heavy work boots completed the receptionist’s attire.

In Murder Takes the Cake, JJ’s style draws her boss’s ire:

“Hey, you already yelled at me once this morning. You don’t pay me enough to put up with it all day long, mister.”

Mac narrowed his eyes. After her outburst, JJ had actually flounced out of his office; a difficult feat for someone wearing an outfit better suited for a military grunt than a southern belle.

He obviously needed to establish some boundaries. She worked for him! “And buy some appropriate clothes for the office. Nothing in camouflage! A suit maybe. And no hobnailed boots. I’m tired of you scaring off the clients.”

There! That was something he’d been intending to say for days.

And somehow when JJ does upgrade her style, she still stands out.

Edgar and the dog stared at her.

“What?” She didn’t need to ask why they were staring at her. After Mac’s order to change her wardrobe, she’d visited a consignment shop. Currently she was wearing a circa 1930s, knockoff, Chanel suit. Even though she’d had to re-sew the seams, the old suit had still cost her more money than she was comfortable spending–especially just to make a point. It was black wool with gold metal buttons. She’d added a white silk blouse. Around her waist she’d cinched a black leather belt to hide the fact the jacket was a little large. The four inch heels were already killing her feet and it wasn’t even noon yet. She’d left her jet-black hair in its normal spiked style, but she’d replaced her large hoop earrings with fake pearl studs and a matching double strand necklace.

“You got one of those little hats with the black netting?” Edgar asked, waving one gnarled hand across his eyes showing where the netting would be.

“Maybe.” She had seen one of those at the shop and thought about buying it. But she wasn’t about to take fashion advice from the old man. “Why?”

“Widow’s weeds. You could get a job as an extra at O’Herlihy’s when Mac fires you. You know, as one of those paid mourners.”

Do you pay attention to what characters are wearing in the novels you read? Is there a character you’ll always remember because of his/her clothing?

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com