A Miracle is Born

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Blessed are You Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, and has preserved us, and allowed us to reach this season.

I murmured the prayer over and over again late Friday afternoon, June 4. It was, for me, nothing short of a miracle. Riley Giselle, was born and poof, I was a Grandma. In some ways, the joy was greater than when I first became a mother. Then all the love and excitement was tinged with fear: Was I up to the job of taking care of a small wonderful child? Now, my only job was to love, love, love her. Somebody else would figure out how to pay for college!

Like most teenage girls, I had “issues” with my mother. I knew, heavens I was certain, that I would do things differently. As my own children reached adolescence, however, I found myself setting the same standards that my own mother had demanded. As Mark Twain so aptly put it, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” It took me a little longer, but ah yes, I discovered just how smart my mother really was.

But from the moment that my first child was born, I was in awe of both my mother and my in-laws as grandparents. My own dad sadly never got to meet my kids. But Grandma, Nana, and Pop-Pop had such bottomless love for each of their grandchildren. Their patience was limitless, but of course, even seven days into this grandparenting gig, I now realize that patience is easier when you can hand the little bundle back at the end of the day.

Alex Haley once said, “Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.” I like even better, and that may be the foodie in me, the quote I found, source unknown, who said, “Grandmas are moms with lots of frosting.”

But most of all, I am giddy, thrilled, and feeling so incredibly blessed that Riley Giselle is now in my life.

Just call me Grandma, the Northern half of Evelyn David

You Are There!

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Writers are often asked which is more important to them, plot or character. At the risk of being difficult, but in all honesty, setting is the most important factor to me in planning my novels and in choosing ones to read. I do read, and occasionally write, in venues outside of my passion for all things British, but at the end of the day, reading and writing in England (or Scotland, or Wales, or Ireland) is my default position.

Because setting is so important to me when I read, as a writer, one of my goals is to put my reader in the scene. Since I try never to write about a place I haven’t actually visited I try to recreate the sights, sounds and smells of the place through the consciousness of my heroine. That means careful planning of my research trips, since I live 7000 miles away from the scene in Idaho. I do all the research I can possibly do from home, which entails a lot of time on the Internet and in libraries. I also have to have my story quite thoroughly outlined so I’ll be certain to go to all the places the story takes us.

Once there I try to experience the scene as if I were the heroine. And since I write mysteries that edge into thrillers, I try to imagine the danger lurking around every corner in that place. Oooh, crumbly historic sites make the most wonderful places to bury bodies. And then the building could crumble on you. Or the ground give way beneath your feet. Or a sudden rain storm wash a body out of a shallow grave. . . (Don’t use that one— it’s in my next novel. And, yes, I stood on the spot and watched it happen in my mind.)

I take copious notes and since my husband bought me a nifty, idiot-proof digital camera a couple of years ago I can now delight in taking all the pictures I want. I also buy loads of books on site, because the same tourist guide will not be available 5 miles down the road. I learned the hard way not to wait.

And then when I get home I have the fun of reliving the whole experience over again at my computer a I write whilst watching the scenes in my head. I have been told that my style is very cinematic. (Please note— any movie producers who may be reading this!) I think that’s because I was a playwright, drama teacher and amateur actress. I tend to think in terms of scenes and act everything out in my head.

This method worked particularly well for me in writing my ecclesiastical thriller A VERY PRIVATE GRAVE, book 1 in The Monastery Murders because my heroine is a rash young American woman studying in a theological college in a monastery in Yorkshire. The monastery is based on one where my daughter (who isn’t nearly as rash as Felicity) studied. So when Felicity runs up the hill to the monastery from her flat just outside the walls I am retracing steps I actually took many times with my daughter.

Likewise, when Felicity’s favorite monk is brutally murdered shortly after he presents her with a journal he kept whilst on recent pilgrimage and she sets out to retrace his steps, all the sites of ancient spirituality she visits in England and Scotland are places I can call up vividly in my mind and hopefully, recreate as vividly for my readers. Because ultimately, it’s not the plot, the characters, or even the setting that’s most important, it’s my readers.

With a bludgeoned body in Chapter 1, and a pair of intrepid amateur sleuths, A Very Private Grave qualifies as a traditional mystery. But this is no mere formulaic whodunit: it is a Knickerbocker Glory of a thriller. At its centre is a sweeping, page-turning quest – in the steps of St Cuthbert – through the atmospherically-depicted North of England, served up with dollops of Church history and lashings of romance. In this novel, Donna Fletcher Crow has created her own niche within the genre of clerical mysteries.
– Kate Charles, author of Deep Waters

Donna Fletcher Crow
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Donna Fletcher Crow is the author of 35 books, mostly novels dealing with British history. The award-winning GLASTONBURY, The Novel of Christian England is her best-known work, an Arthurian grail search epic covering 15 centuries of English history. A VERY PRIVATE GRAVE, book 1 in the Monastery Murders series is her reentry into publishing after a 10 year hiatus. THE SHADOW OF REALITY, a romantic intrigue will be published later this summer.

Donna and her husband have 4 adult children and 10 grandchildren. She is an enthusiastic gardener and you can see pictures of her garden, watch the trailer for A VERY PRIVATE GRAVE, and read her international blog at http://www.donnafletchercrow.com/
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A VERY PRIVATE GRAVE

Felicity Howard, a young American woman studying for the Anglican priesthood at the College of the Transfiguration in Yorkshire, is devastated when she finds her beloved Fr. Dominic brutally murdered and Fr. Antony, her church history lecturer, soaked in his blood.

A Very Private Grave is a contemporary novel with a thoroughly modern heroine who must learn some ancient truths in order to solve the mystery and save her own life as she and Fr. Antony flee a murderer and follow clues that take them to out-of-the way sites in northern England and southern Scotland. The narrative skillfully mixes detection, intellectual puzzles, spiritual aspiration, romance, and the solving of clues ancient and modern.

The Im-Perfect Game

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If you want to handle something with grace and dignity, look no further than Major League Baseball umpire Jim Joyce and Detroit Tigers’ pitcher Armando Galarraga. If you have been living under a rock for the last week, you probably don’t know that Galarraga was pitching a perfect game on a balmy Tuesday night in Detroit last week. No hits, no errors, no base on balls; this feat has only been accomplished twenty times in the history of Major League Baseball. It was the ninth inning and the Cleveland Indians were down to their last out when Jason Donald hit a little grounder in the infield. Galarraga did what he was supposed to do: he ran to first to cover as the first baseman cleanly fielded the ball and threw it to him. The ball reached Galarraga, his foot on the bag, long before Donald did. Umpire Jim Joyce called Donald “safe.” The perfect game was history.

Galarraga’s teammates went crazy, as did manager Jim Leland. Joyce was confident that he hadn’t blown the call. Galarraga smiled ruefully and headed back to the mound to record the 28th out of the game and then walked off the field to the dugout. Joyce went into the locker room and watched the replay, which all of the Tigers had already seen and knew what Joyce was now discovering: he had botched the call. He had blown Galarraga’s perfect game. On a day when baseball great Ken Griffey retired after an illustrious career and six-hundred and thirty home runs, Jim Joyce was the only name we were saying. He would go down in history as making arguably the worst call in major league baseball.

You’ve got to feel for the guy. A mistake is just that. I listened to his post-game interview and he was choked up the entire time, taking the blame for something that he says will haunt him forever.

Major League Baseball gave Joyce the option of sitting out the next day’s game, but he declined. He took the field with his head held high, probably expecting the worst from the Detroit hometown fans. Instead, he was greeted by Armando Galarraga, who handed him the lineup card. Galarraga shook his hand, which drew cheers from the crowd. What could have been an extremely bad situation—have you ever seen how seriously people take their hometown sports?—was defused by the kindness and humility of one gentleman, Armanda Galarraga.

There are several things that are striking about this situation. First, Galarraga didn’t make a scene when it happened. He had just been denied the opportunity to achieve something that few men had done in the history of his sport. Yet, he didn’t throw his glove or kick the mound, or get in the umpire’s face. He returned to the mound and finished the job. Second, upon learning of his mistake, Joyce took full responsibility, turning into a grown man crying in front of a group of reporters when he learned of his error. Someone taking responsibility so honestly and forthrightly in today’s world is pretty much unheard of (BP anyone?), so to see this man reduced to tears upon learning of his mistake was truly a sight. Third, the Detroit fans cheered both men upon their arrival on the field, showing that people are mature enough to realize when something has been done in error and with no malice aforethought and can accept other’s failings. I, myself, made a mistake at my job today and my first thought was, “at least I’m not Jim Joyce.” I felt for the guy. My heart, and apparently the collective heart of the city of Detroit, goes out to the guy. He screwed up. He owned it. Hopefully, he’ll be able to move on.

Child #2 is involved in several sporting activities and the behavior of the kids on the field sometimes approaches reprehensible. Bad sportsmanship abounds. Names are called during the game and sulking takes place after losses. I hope that coaches everywhere use this situation as a teachable moment: what to do and how to behave when things don’t go your way and how to own up to and redeem yourself from a mistake, no matter how big.

Maggie Barbieri

Writer’s Block–Do You Suffer From it?

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I just read a really good blog about writer’s block and though I left a comment I really wanted to write more so thought I’d do it here.

Though I don’t really suffer from writer’s block, I do procrastinate about clicking on Word and my latest work in progress. Instead, I check my e-mail, read posts on Facebook and write one or two, read some blogs I’m following, and maybe write a blog or two.

Though I don’t work outside the house, I do some writing jobs that bring in money and if I have one of those, it will always come first. (Yes, my books bring in money, but not right away like some other things I do.)

If there is some housework jobs I really need to do, I’ll probably do them before I write. One of the reasons I do that comes from my bringing up–mom made sure we’d done all of our work before we did something fun. And since writing is something I truly enjoy, I don’t feel right doing it until all the more tedious jobs are done. (Funny how moms can still influence us even when we’re really old–and in my case, mom has gone on to her heavenly reward.)

Fortunately, I long ago figured out a way to not have a problem knowing what to write when I finally do open up that work in progress and that’s to stop in the middle of a scene, that way I know exactly what to write next.

Another trick is to go back and read what you wrote last making it easier to just continue on when you get to the blank place.

I truly love writing and with the book I’m working on now I have so many ideas for it they are spilling out of my brain. What I should do is change my schedule completely and write first–then do all the other things that need to be done. I’ll try, but I don’t think my many years of training and habit will let me.

I know a lot of you do your writing at night. Wish I could, but by evening I’m done. Brain is no longer functioning well enough to do anything challenging like writing.

Do you have trouble with writer’s block? If so, what’s your cure?

Marilyn

Just Call Me Cassandra

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Kathryn Lance has been a freelance writer since the early seventies. She is the author or ghost of more than fifty books of fiction and nonfiction, for children and adults. She has recently become a docent at a desert nature park, and though she still writes has learned to prefer snakes to copy editors.

Pandora’s Genes, my first science fiction novel, was the result of cross-fertilization between a news story and an enigmatic dream. One morning in the late seventies I saw a short squib in the New York Times business section about a company that was working to genetically alter bacteria that naturally consume oil so that they might be used to clean up oil spills. I thought, “Great! But what if your car catches it?”A few months later I had a mysterious dream in which a good, moral man had embarked on a mission to do something he knew was wrong but was compelled to do. I was so intrigued that I sat down and started writing.

Not too far into the story I realized it was set in the world I had imagined resulting from the runaway altered bacteria. In my story, the oil-eating bacteria had mutated and spread after being set loose on a massive oil spill; they consumed not only all oil in the world, but all petroleum products, including plastics and the fail-safe seals on germ warfare experiments, releasing deadly plagues. The novel is about competition by several groups of people for control of this dangerous, nearly depopulated world. Zach, the good man from my dream, became one of the three main characters; the two other key characters, who appeared to me when I began writing, are The Principal, a well-meaning but flawed political and military leader, and Evvy, the young girl that both men love, who may hold the key to saving the world.

I wrote feverishly for several weeks, almost as if I were reading the story. The characters, who were not consciously based on anyone I knew, seemed more real to me than my friends and family. I really had no idea what was going to happen until it “happened” at the end of my typing fingers. That had never occurred before and has not since, but it was one of the most compelling experiences in my life.When I finished the rough draft, in about six weeks, it took me two years of revising to get it in shape to send to my agent, and then I had to revise it again for the publisher who eventually bought it. When my editor told me before accepting the final manuscript that I had to change the ending, I was paralyzed until I had yet another dream. In this one, I was giving birth to a child (something I have never done). The experience was not painful, but was rather extremely erotic, building in intensity until the child was born and I woke up knowing exactly how the story would end. I sat down and wrote it in one sitting.

Pandora’s Genes was published in 1986 and its sequel came out the following year. It was named “Best New Science Fiction” by Romantic Times and was chosen for the Locus (s-f) Recommended List for the year. In May of this year, e-reads, the top publisher for out-of-print genre books, realized that my book was newly relevant, especially since one of the remedies currently proposed involves the use of genetically modified bacteria. My book is currently featured on the e-reads website . I had intended the story in part as a cautionary tale, and still see it that way. I just hope none of the other horrors that I foresaw come to pass.The first chapter of Pandora’s Genes is available on my website, and it can be ordered from Amazon

Kathryn Lance

Q&A with Author KD Easley

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Susan: I’m very happy to have KD Easley join us today. She’s a fellow Missouri author and a super nice lady. She’s also giving away a signed ARC of MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE to one of today’s commenters! So comment away!

Hi, KD and welcome to the Stiletto Gang! First off, tell us about MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE (A Randi Black Mystery) and how you came to write it.

KD: I think Randi developed out of dreams of what I always wanted. I was in a pretty rough time in my life when I wrote MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE, and I think it was escape more than anything. Randi has twin boys and I always dreamed of having twins. Her kids are pretty well-behaved and I always dreamed of having well-behaved children. And, Randi has two brothers, one of them older. As an only child, I’d always dreamed of having an older brother. I mean, when you’re dreaming, why not pick the one thing that you’re absolutely never going to have, right? Anyway, writing Randi’s story gave me a chance to have some of the things I’d always wanted, without dealing with the crappy things going on in my life. I mean seriously, tripping over a dead body is worse than almost all of the crappy jobs I’d had up to that time, so it even helped me feel positive about my own life.

Susan: Is Randi anything like you? How is she the same/different?

KD: Randi and I share a sense of humor, we’re both divorced, and we both have two sons. She lives in a small town where everyone knows everything about everyone else, and we share that experience as well. I think we differ in that Randi is a bit more social than I am. She has more friends and a bigger family. She’s also probably not as shy, more apt to jump into trouble without thinking, and she has much longer hair. Truth to tell, she’s probably about forty pounds lighter than I am too, but we can just keep that among ourselves.

Susan: What inspired you to start writing mysteries?

KD: I’m a lifelong mystery reader, starting with Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden and moving up from there. I’m a storyteller from early childhood and had numerous imaginary friends. My Mom used to say that, when I went in to take my bath, it sounded like there were twenty people in the room with me. I can remember very clearly that some of my imaginary buddies were good guys and some were bad guys. So even though I don’t remember any specific stories from those days, I think I was probably honing my mystery chops even back then. The trigger that actually put my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard was the death of my best friend. The story I wrote was more romance and autobiography than anything else, and if I’m lucky, no one will ever read it. The writing was awful and it had a sad ending (and as everyone knows, romance fans do not want sad endings); but it was very cathartic, and it gave me a chance to see how words worked on paper. I learned more from that failed manuscript than anything else I’ve ever done. Shortly after that I started writing TIMBER BRIDGE, bodies started dropping and I knew I’d found my home.

Susan: How do you balance your real-life and your publishing life? Any tips on juggling it all without going crazy?

KD: I don’t balance them at all. I’m a bit compulsive and whatever I’m doing at the moment is the most important thing in the world, whether it’s baking Christmas cookies, writing, or working in the yard. So balance is something I really struggle with. I think the going crazy part is a given. You have to be a little bit crazy to write. I seriously need to learn some time management and organizational skills. It would make my life so much easier. That may perhaps be another one of those unobtainable dreams, like the big brother thing I mentioned earlier.

Susan: What authors/books do you most love reading?

KD: I love to read. It’s an addiction for me. If I don’t have a book or my Kindle handy, I’ll read the back of cereal boxes. I get a physical ache when I go without reading for too long. To that end I will read almost anything, but my first love is mysteries and thrillers. I love Dick Francis. He has the ability to draw you into his story with an opening line and hold you there till the end. But I also read Dana Cameron, Carolyn Haines, Lee Child, Dana Stabenow, Jim Butcher, Robert Parker, this list could truly go on and on. I don’t really have a specific type of mystery. I love them all: cozies, police procedurals, amateur sleuth, romantic suspense, female protagonists, male protagonists, wizards, or vampires. I also find that I’m enjoying some of the women’s fiction that’s come out in the last few years. And I love to revisit old series. I find when I’m editing, I tend to read my old favorites and stay away from the tasty new books out there. I don’t know if it’s to keep my mind fresh for my own work, or to make it easier for me to put the book down and actually get some work done. I imagine it’s the latter.

Susan: What’s next for you?

KD: I’m working on book two in the Randi Black series, MURDER AT THE JOLLY ROGER. It’s due out in June of next year, and I’m winding up the edits on it now. My stand-alone mystery, WHERE THE DREAMS END, came out last year and lots of readers have asked to revisit those characters, so I’m working on a new story for Brocs Harley. I’m also putting together an anthology called ONCOLOGY CAN BE MURDER to raise money for the American Cancer Society. I hope to have enough stories gathered for that to see it published next year. I’ve got some short stories in the works as they seem to help me clear my head when the work in progress isn’t going well. I may try to send a few of those out and about and see what happens. And, between writing projects, I’m putting a book tour together for this summer and promoting, MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE and WHERE THE DREAMS END. Oh, and cooking and cleaning and all those other dreary chores that get in the way of the fun stuff. Wow, I’m tired just writing all that.

Susan: How can readers get your books?

KD: My books are available by request at any brick and mortar bookstore, or online at Amazon, BN.com, and most other Internet booksellers. Electronic copies are available from http://www.smashwords.com/ and Kindle, and signed copies can be purchased from the store page of http://www.kdwrites.com/. Thank you so much for inviting me to visit the Stiletto Gang! It was a blast!

KD Easley can be found procrastinating in Missouri with her two feline co-writers, Luna and Merlin. Signed copies of her books are available at http://www.kdwrites.com/ and KD can be found periodically at http://kdblog.kdwrites.com.

Rewards

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Lila Dare, author of the Southern Beauty Shop series from Berkley Prime Crime, joins us today. The first book in the series, Tressed to Kill, debuted May 4 and got a starred review from Publishers Weekly and 4 ½ stars from Romantic Times. That might seem like reward enough for a first time novelist, but Lila says we need to think about how we reward ourselves.

Reward (n.) 1. Something given in return for good or, sometimes, evil or for service or merit 2. Money offered, as for the capture of a criminal, the return of something lost 3. Compensation, profit, return

Many of us writers think the ultimate reward is becoming a New York Times best-selling author who outsells J.K. Rowling and James Patterson put together. Or, if we’re more literarily oriented, we aspire to a National Book Award and an Oscar in the same year (because, of course, our literary book was made into a movie directed by James Ivory and starring Emma Thompson and Daniel Day Lewis). Even the most optimistic of us, however, have to admit that those rewards are not likely getting bestowed on us five minutes (or even five years) after we start writing. So how do we reward ourselves in the interim?

The longer I’m in this writing/publishing business, the more convinced I am that rewarding ourselves for the accomplishment of milestones along the way is critical. Rewards give us a sense of pride in what we’ve done and motivate us. You can’t wait until you finish a manuscript, or land an agent, or get a three-book contract to reward yourself (although those amazing and fantabulous accomplishments deserve huge rewards). How about rewarding yourself for reaching your writing goal for the month (whether that’s 10,000 words, the re-write of your ending scene, or an in-depth interview with your protagonist)? Or, consider rewarding yourself for the accomplishment of a writing-related task you hate: sending out another ten queries, setting up a Facebook page/blog/Twitter account to promote your book, pitching your WIP to an agent or editor at a conference, conducting a difficult interview. We too often dismiss these sorts of accomplishments, shrug them off, and get onto the next task, when we really deserve a “Way to go!” for tackling them.

All of which begs the question of what makes an appropriate reward. Clearly, you’re not going to hand yourself a lovely certificate or plaque, as many traditional workplaces do. I struggle with this question because my go-to awards for myself tend to a) be ingestible (and fattening), b)cost money, or c) both of the above. (I am especially sensitive to the question because I have two tweenage daughters and I hate to set them up for a life-time of weight issues by celebrating their successes with food: National Junior Honor Society induction—let’s get a sundae!

Volleyball team MVP—let’s have some chocolate cake! Won the talent contest—Cinnabon here we come!) So, I offer a list of some of the non-edible, not-too-expensive rewards I bestow on myself:

Read a non-writing-related magazine (I like More and InStyle) without once feeling guilty;

Give yourself a manicure or pedicure with a fun new color (my current fave is a pale orange called Candy Corn);

Call a friend and chat for half an hour without once mentioning writing or publishing;

Go for an hour-long walk or hike (I realize this might be a penance and not a reward for some, but I like working out);

Go to the gym/health club and do nothing except sit in the hot tub,steam room, or sauna;

Play with your pet;

Spend an hour enjoying a non-writing-related hobby;

Volunteer;

Do something your kid wants to do and really throw yourself into it, whether it’s playing Littlest Pet Shop, doing soccer drills, or shopping at Claire’s (gag me);

Buy a new kind of tea/coffee or a new variety of wine/beer and give it a try, maybe something a tad pricier than your usual.

Obviously, rewards are very personal—what tickles my fancy might make you retch and I might rather get a root canal than “reward” myself with an activity or item you find wonderful. The point is to reward yourself in a meaningful way for the small milestones along the way, as well as the huge successes.

I’d love to hear how you reward yourselves (or how you reward your kids’ accomplishments) and will send a signed copy of Tressed to Kill to one commenter. Thanks very much to the Stiletto Gang for having me on the blog today!

Lila Dare
http://www.liladare.com/

My Own Private Pitch Count

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Summer is upon us and with it comes America’s favorite pastime: baseball. As faithful Stiletto Gang readers know, I’m a masochist and root for the New York Mets, a team who manages to lose with alarming regularity despite boasting some of the best fielders and hitters in the game. Anyone with a nodding acquaintance of Major League Baseball knows that the Mets are underachievers, something that really hits close to home when you have the-team-who-shall-not-be-named across town in the Bronx. I continue to hope, though, that we get our act together and see some progress.

Our pitching has been sketchy at best. We have a formidable bullpen—Oliver Perez aside—members of which are called in to save the day once the pitcher on record, he who started the game, begins to wear down. Or reaches baseball’s new determinant of a pitcher’s lifespan on the mound: the pitch count.

It has gotten so ubiquitous in baseball that some broadcasts put a pitch count clock at the bottom of the screen so that when a pitcher hits one hundred pitches, the talking heads can start talking about how many pitches the guy has thrown and when the manager should take him out. As the pitch count rises, sometimes upwards of a hundred and twenty pitches, the guys on the telecast start talking about the pitcher like he is doing the impossible—pitching after he has reached his pitch count. It almost becomes like “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They” meets “The Natural,” where it sounds like he is either going to be taken out and put out of his misery or nominated to the Hall of Fame on that particular day. They say, their voices filled with wonder, “He has exceeded his pitch count, yet he continues to pitch.”

Yes, amazing.

I think we should institute the pitch count on the things we do on a daily basis, or even those that we don’t. So, for instance, when a woman has entered her thirty-sixth hour of labor, she should be able to turn to her doctor and say, “I’ve reached my pitch count. Get this sucker out!”

Actually, that’s a paraphrase of what just about every birthing mother says in the delivery room, but with far more colorful language incorporated.

Wouldn’t you love to have a pitch count for everyday life? When my husband grades his thousandth test for the year, I think he should be able to invoke the pitch count and put his red pen aside. He should be able to coast for the rest of the year, don’t you think? Or sit in a dugout and chew gum while watching a professional baseball game?

I’m going to invoke the pitch count when someone asks me, “What’s for dinner?” I’ve cooked almost every single night for the past sixteen years and tonight, we’re going out. I’ve reached my pitch count.

I’m definitely going to invoke the pitch count when it comes to simple household tasks that I loathe, particularly the emptying of the dishwasher. (Northern Half of Evelyn David? I’m with you, girl.) I have unloaded my last load of clean dishes. Why? I’ve reached my pitch count.

I will never invoke the pitch count on things that matter, like cleaning the toilets. No pitch count there.

And I will never invoke the pitch count when it comes to hugging my kids, although they may wish that I did. Particularly when I do it outside of their school or after one of their games in full view of their homies or peeps. I’m sure they wish I would also invoke the pitch count when it comes to using terms like “homies” or “peeps” or my all-time favorite, “shawty.”

Nor will I invoke the pitch count when it comes to bathing the dog. (I’m the only one she lets near her with a bottle of shampoo and a hose.) Or saying “I love you” to people that matter.

But I will invoke the pitch count when it comes to hunting down the last elusive box of chocolate-chip waffles—the only ones my son will eat—a task I repeat at least four times a week. Sorry, kid, I’ve reached my pitch count.

Weigh in, Stiletto faithful. On what have you reached your pitch count?

Maggie Barbieri

Sitting Among the Super Stars

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In the photo: me, Donna Andrews, Marcia Talley and Deborah Crombie.

First, let me say, this past weekend at Mayhem in the Midlands was extraordinary.

The con is always held in Omaha, and we’ve been to this particular mystery event nine times. We’ve gone so often we’ve made friends with people who live in Omaha and others who attend this conference on a regular basis.

This year, one of my panels was with the guest of honor, Deborah Crombie, and Marcia Talley, the toast master, moderated by Donna Andrews.

I knew most of the people who attended that panel hadn’t come because of my presence on that that panel. Deborah and Marcia are good friends and it definitely shows when they are bantering back and forth. My biggest contribution was making people laugh. One thing I know how to do is offer one-liners.

An interesting, and most rewarding event for me and I think the audience to was a conversation with authors. Radine Nehring, Nancy Pickard and I sat in a circle with audience surrounding us. Radine had come up with many interesting subjects for us to discuss and it worked well. Several people told me it was like eavesdropping on our conversation. I hadn’t read Nancy Pickard’s work, so before the conference I purchased The Smell of Rain and Lightening (or maybe it’s the other way around) and I absolutely loved it.

In fact, for every panel I was on or moderated, if I hadn’t ever read anything by the author before, I got the book and read it. Believe me, that really helps–especially when you’re on a panel with brand new and nervous authors.

This year besides those two panels, I moderated one and I was on another about Religion in Mysteries. 17 of my books sold, which is the best I’ve ever done at this conference. Being on panel and being a good panelists helps sell books. Being a good panelist means that you have to be engaging without hogging the panel. (Yes, some authors do hog panels.)

Being on panels and going to them is only one part of attending a mystery con. The people who come and the great conversations you have are another plus. And I can’t give a report about Mayhem without saying that the eating at Mayhem is pretty darn good too. There is a reception the first night, and this year they had a mac and cheese bar. You put the mac and cheese in a champagne glass and chose what toppings you wanted from a vast array. Of course they had the usual fruit, cheese, cracker, meatballs etc. for the less daring.

The Sisters in Crime buffet this year consisted of tacos and all the trimmings–delicious.

The hotel for Mayhem is right at the end of The Old Marketplace which is full of wonderful restaurants. Of course we had one lunch at Ahmad’s Persian Restaurant, our most favorite. We also ate at the Indian Oven, M’s, and a new place called Stokes. Of course we always had a great group of people with us.

When we first arrived, one of our friends in Omaha took us to another restaurant on the other side of town, plus gave us a tour of some of the new things that have been built since the last time we were there. On our last night we also went out with this same gal to another great place, The Upstream Brewery and hubby and I both had their root beer, which is delicious.

Anyway, I’m back, tired and overwhelmed with work.

Marilyn

A Change of Pace

/in /by

I’m not whining. Really, I’m not.

But I hate unloading the dishwasher. I don’t mind loading it. Heck, I don’t even mind washing dishes by hand. But I can’t stand opening the dishwasher door, with the unexpected steam facial, and putting away all the clean plates and silverware.

I know in the scope of tough things in life, this doesn’t even qualify to make the list. I should be grateful (I am) to have a dishwasher. I should be grateful (I am) that I have food to make those dishes dirty in the first place.

But after a million years of marriage (all wonderful, I assure you), and raising four kids (to steal from Garrison Keillor, all good looking and above average) – I am tired of household chores. Sure whoever is at home helps, but I’m still the captain of this cruise ship. Absolutely, my husband does more than his fair share (he’d probably argue that it’s waaaay more than his fair share), but let’s just agree to disagree.

But unless we’re prepared to eat takeout food on paper plates with plastic forks (and risk the wrath of “save the earth fans” the world over) – I’m looking for some invention (or person) to do the following tasks:

1. Unload the dishwasher and put away the contents in a timely fashion (within an hour of the completion of its cycle). This is to avoid the “who can wait longest to see if somebody else will do the job.”

2. Carry upstairs from the basement and distribute to the appropriate drawers, all the clean laundry I’ve done. I point out that it doesn’t count if you merely plop the clean clothes on the bed, to be pushed to the floor before crawling into the sheets, which will necessitate either refolding or washing the clothes again because the dog with the muddy feet has walked on them.

3. Put away the groceries. I don’t mind shopping for food, sometimes at more than one store to get the best bargain, I’ll even lug the bags into the house. But I hate to put the foodstuffs away. Yes, there is a pattern here. I sometimes fantasize that if I only had a walk-in pantry, then putting away dishes and groceries would be a snap. But since I don’t have a pantry, walk-in or otherwise, putting these things away involves much squeezing and rearranging, always doubling the time of the original task.

4. Iron tablecloths and t-shirts. Yes, I know about wrinkle-free tablecloths, but mine are never unwrinkled and if I’m going to the trouble of putting a cloth on the dining room table, it’s an occasion and should look nice. When I iron, it does not….look nice. Same for summer t-shirts which are grabbed right out from the dryer and still look like they have shrunk two sizes, with permanent creases. (Of course, as a writer, I never see anyone so who cares).

5. Mark the sheets so that it’s clear which way they fit. On a twin, this is never a problem, but on our Queen-sized bed, I inevitably put the bottom fitted sheet on the wrong way and have to start over again. I’d also add that I’d like sheets that didn’t pill or shrink – and as long as I’m asking, I’d like someone else to put them on the bed in the first place. Actually, to take a step back, I’d also like someone else to fold all fitted bottom sheets, a task I’ve reduced to rolling them up in balls because I can’t get them to fold flat.

What chores would you like to dump, er, exchange with a loved one?

Marian