Getting to Know You (Ok, me)

/in /by

As I get older, it is refreshing to acknowledge the things I like and don’t like to do. For years, I did things because I felt like they were the right thing to do or what I should be doing. Because everyone else was doing them. Or loved to do them.

Case in point: yoga.

For years, I was a faithful practitioner of yoga, knowing that it would be the best thing for my type-A, control freak, slightly ADD personality. I went every week with my purple mat, in my cute black stretch pants (that incidentally could have benefited from a tummy control panel) and twisted myself into various positions, holding them as long as I could, and trying to think about anything but all of the things I wanted to think about. I never could execute a handstand, but I could live with that, because when it came to the “pigeon pose,” I was a champ.

The only problem was, I wasn’t relaxing. What I was doing was stressing about not being able to relax at yoga. And I was thinking about other stuff that didn’t have anything to do with my own inner peace, chakras, or mindfulness. Every time I got into a pose and was instructed to hold it, my mind went in about five hundred different directions, starting with: “Things I need from Shoprite: eggs, milk, butter, toilet paper…” Then I would refocus (and readjust my tummy-control-less yoga pants) just in time for the next pose and clear my mind. Seconds later, I was back to: “…chicken, bread, toilet paper—oh, right, I already have that on the list—beer…beer…beer…”

My friend, Tami, is a yoga instructor and in the best shape of anyone I know (with the exception of trainer Shari). She is also very serene. She has graciously invited me to her class and while I was tempted to go, I never took the plunge. I couldn’t figure out why. Then, it finally hit me: I don’t really like yoga.

For all of you yoga devotees, let me be perfectly clear: the problem is me, not yoga. Yoga is a fabulous form of mediation and exercise. It’s just not for nut cases like myself.

But for years, I kept thinking that because it was such a fabulous form of mediation and exercise, I should do it. Even though it didn’t do anything for me physically or spiritually. I finally found the courage to articulate this epiphany to my friend, Melissa, who stared back at me and said, “I could have told you that.”

Why are our friends more likely to know more about us than we know about ourselves?

Now that I’ve embraced this new-found self awareness, I have also finally admitted that I really don’t like the beach. It’s hot, it’s crowded, and there’s sand. And flies. And it’s outside.

I also don’t like expensive coffee, I would rather have a big plate of fried chicken than a salad (despite what it does to my cholesterol and triglycerides or whatever they’re called), and I think that programs on public broadcasting stations are for the most part boring. I also prefer a dimestore novel to what is purported to be a literary masterpiece. I will no longer suffer through an “important work” if my mind starts to wander after the first three pages. I also prefer cheap chardonnay to the more expensive ones. But I won’t cheap out on Champagne.

By this time, you’re probably wondering why it took so long to come to some of these truths. I guess I’m just a slow learner.

So, what have you learned about yourself recently? Please share.

Maggie Barbieri
http://www.maggiebarbieri.com

How Do You Get Everything Done?

/in /by

That’s a question I get asked all the time. The answer is, often I don’t.

I make a lot of lists and cross things off when I get them done. Yesterday I planned to work on a book that has just been edited and take care of some of the edits. Instead, I read and answered email, filled out an interview someone sent me, received a great review for Dispel the Mist, the third.

Once I got that of course I had to copy it, put it on the page where I’m keeping those reviews and I had to let my Twitter friends and my Facebook friends know. Holding my breath about the reveiw that might not be so good. My publisher and I both sent the book out to a lot of reviewers.

Hubby brought in the mail and I had to pay a couple of bills and I went on line to cancel a membership to something we never used–should have done that long ago.

Remembered that I should add to my newsletter about my talk at the library (not many showed up but someone I only met on Twitter and his wife traveled 1 1/2 hours just to meet me. Don’t tell me Twitter promo doesn’t work. Then, of course, my launch Sunday at Kirby Farms in Springville had to be mentioned–that one went super well, lots more people and books sold and the cookies were delicious.)

And that’s more or less the way it went all day. I did get a little done, I’m looking for the word was and trying to turn the sentence around in order to eliminate it–works sometimes, not always.

Hubby and I did take time out to watch General Hospital together–its our afternoon rest period.
Cooked and ate a big dinner, but left right after for Bible Study–we’re studying Daniel. Came home and my brain doesn’t really function well much after seven, so I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about watching Dancing with the Stars. (Good excuse, anyway.)

Maybe today will be more organized with less distractions–except I really must get the laundry done.

Marilyn

For a Sweet New Year

/in /by

This weekend was Rosh Hashonah, the start of the Jewish New Year, 5770. While Dick Clark doesn’t host a “Rockin’ Rosh Hashonah” Show on ABC, and there aren’t thousands of people blowing horns, wearing funny hats, and watching the crystal ball descend into Times Square, like December 31, the Jewish New Year is a time of reflection and a celebration of renewal.

Surrounded by family and friends, I spent this holiday once again reminded of all my blessings. I didn’t make a list of New Year’s resolutions, but did make a personal promise to improve where I could, try harder when necessary, and accept graciously when acceptance is the best option.

Traditions are the always in life, those things we count on and by which we define ourselves and our family. So my holiday table was full of the traditional foods like apples and honey, to represent a sweet new year, and round challahs, instead of the Sabbath braided ones, to symbolize the circle of life. It wouldn’t be a holiday in this household without homemade chocolate chip cookies. Perhaps not found in the Bible, but a required food group for my family.

One of the nicest traditions of the holiday is Tashlikh, the ritual of symbolically casting off your sins by tossing pieces of bread into a body of flowing water. The ancient practice is based on the the Biblical passage in Micah, “You will cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.” Our congregation strolls about a mile down to the park that edges Long Island Sound. We sing some traditional prayers and then walk out onto the rocks and toss bread into the waters. The gulls come swooping in, happy to ingest our “sins.” Inevitably we joke that we each need to bring at least a couple of loaves of bread to atone for all our sins. The Rabbi reminds us that it’s symbolic, not a one-for-one ratio of bread to sin.

The beauty of the setting, the warmth of being surrounded by family and friends, the comfort of the traditional melodies, and the sense of renewal, of starting the new year afresh, gives me a wonderful feeling of contentment and rejuvenation.

Best wishes for a Healthy, Happy, Sweet New Year.

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

A Vegas Show Chicken in the Underbrush

/in /by

Wendy Lyn Watson writes delicious mysteries with a dollop of romance. Her first cozy, I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM: A MYSTERY A LA MODE, will be released on October 6. To pay the bills, Wendy teaches constitutional law to college kids. She’s also an avid fan of 80s music, horror films, and (of course) ice cream. You can find her on the web at http://www.wendylynwatson.com/

When I first contacted the Stiletto Gang, this whole blog thing sounded like a good idea. I mean, everyone’s doing it, right? How hard can it be?

Ha!

Let’s face it, y’all are strangers. You don’t know me from Adam. This is my chance to make a first impression, and I better make it good. So what to say? About 93 different topics came to mind, and they all sounded totally stupid. Or brilliant. But probably stupid. I was paralyzed with indecision.

So I asked the universe to send me a sign, and it did.

With a leisurely Labor day afternoon ahead of us, Mr. Wendy and I headed to the 380 Greenbelt, a rather utilitarian Texas park that meanders along a trickle of water that one might call a river (if one had never seen a real river before). We parked the Family Truckster; schlepped across the tarmac like the boring middle-aged couple we are, Mr. Wendy toting a folding chair in each hand and me clutching a plastic grocery bag with some almonds, a couple of diet sodas, and our paperbacks; and set up camp in a little plot of shade right at the edge of the sad tributary and away from the other park-goers.

We had just gotten settled in, Mr. Wendy dozing in his chair, me munching on the almonds, when I heard a rustling in the underbrush behind me. I looked around, expecting a squirrel, or perhaps an armadillo. Imagine my surprise …

I asked the universe for a sign, and it sent me a chicken.

But not just any chicken. This was one of those fancy chickens with an absurd explosion of feathers sprouting from the top of his head and a cascade of snowy plumage springing from his backside. This was a Vegas show-chicken.

Strike that.

A feral Vegas show-chicken.

I couldn’t help wondering, “What’s his story?” Was he lost? Had he escaped some chicken gulag? Why did he limp? Did he have chicken friends in the park? Or was he flying solo, one chicken against the world? Was he scared of the people who wandered past him, carrying kayaks and blaring boom-boxes? Or did he hope that one of those people would scoop him up and tote him back to civilization, give him a nice shady coop where he wouldn’t have to worry about coyotes or his next meal? And what would become of him? Could such a fancy chicken possibly survive in the wild?

Some writers–indeed, some of my favorite writers–write about exotic people in exotic places doing exotic things. I, however, am drawn to ordinary folks living ordinary lives in Everytown, America. Like the heroine of I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM. Tally Jones is a small town divorcee, struggling to keep her ice cream parlor afloat and her rag-tag family out of bankruptcy. On the surface, her life is perfectly normal, but unbeknownst to her the people she’s known her whole life are harboring secrets. Those ordinary people are capable of both heroism and treachery, and Tally has to learn that bad guys don’t always look like bad guys.

That nice elderly man who fed his wife rat poison? That high school tennis coach who gave a kidney to one of his players? That soccer mom who made a million bucks by stripping in front of a webcam? Those are the stories that really affect us, because they come out of the blue. They sneak up on us, ambush us, and force us to question our assumptions about the world we live in.

So here’s my advice to you: keep your eyes open. You never know when you’ll stumble across a moment of mythic drama right smack in the middle of your grocery store’s produce aisle. Or a brilliant bit of poetry on a bathroom wall. Or perhaps a Vegas show-chicken rooting around in the underbrush.

Wendy Lyn Watson

Hooya!

/in /by

My writing process? Strangely enough, it’s not based on the written word.

I see and hear the scenes in my head. Then I type them into the computer.

Although I’ve been a voracious reader since grade school, I didn’t try to write fiction until about six or seven years ago. My first short story was written on a computer in my living room while I listened to CNN. I wrote it while drinking Pepsi One and eating Strawberry Twizzlers.

So my writing process?

Want to guess? In order to write I have to be sitting at my computer in my living room with CNN on the tv, a can of Pepsi One next to me, and okay, well – the Twizzlers are optional. I’m not completely nuts!

Seriously, I can’t write fiction using paper and pen. I’ve tried. A sentence or two is all I can squeeze out the old fashioned way.

I’m a fast typist and using a keyboard helps me get my thoughts down before they slither off. I’m composing this blog at my computer. I’ve changed the first line of this paragraph four times – trying to decide if “slither off” is the right phrase. (My co-author, Marian, wouldn’t care for me ending a sentence with the word “off,” but I’ll worry about that later.) As you can see, “slither off” won out over “escaped.”

Okay, so computer, Pepsi One, CNN, and Marian are needed in order for me to write – not necessarily in that order. I mentioned Marian before, right? She gets the credit, uh … blame for getting me into this fiction writing business. Not that I’ve actually met her in person – we are internet friends and writing partners. One day she typed, “We should write a book together.” I typed back, “We should think about it.”

I hesitated because I was afraid of failing. It’s easy to have the dream of writing a book – I’d guess most people have that dream at some point in their life. Having the dream is nice. It’s comfortable. It’s something to think about when your day job is less than fulfilling. But actually doing something about achieving that dream is scary. If you try and fail, then what? That dream is isn’t so golden any more.

But I’d been tempted, so after a few weeks of consideration, we started. We expanded a short story we’d written about a private detective and his Irish wolfhound partner. “Evelyn David” was born.

In order for me to write, I have to be in the “right” frame of mind (pun not intended but there it is), with the right tools handy (maybe the word “right” in this phrase is too much?), in order for me to find that fictional world in my head. And for me it’s all about characters.

I usually put two characters in a room, close my eyes and listen for a conversation to start. Two of my favorite characters from the Sullivan Investigations Mystery series are the twenty-something computer wiz JJ and the seventy-something, scooter riding Edgar. The only thing they have in common is their fondness for Mac Sullivan and a desire to become full-fledged detectives.

“How did you like my great nephew?”

“Is the no hair thing hereditary?”

“He’s a Marine.”

“Hooya!”

“He’s single.”

“Thanks for the warning. Mac is getting me a Taser for my birthday.”

The conversation stops. And I consider how I might use the dialogue. Or not. My writing always starts with dialogue, even if it’s inner dialogue. Then I go back and layer in background details and physical action. After I polish up the scene, I e-mail it to Marian.

I’ve tried to outline. I know how to draft an outline. Under great duress I can create an outline and I can write by it. But the process takes all the fun out of writing for me. The voices are muffled. The typing slows. Soon I’m thinking that mopping the kitchen might be a preferable activity.

If you’ve read Marian’s Monday blog, you’re probably wondering how in world we write anything together. She likes to know where we’re going before we get there. Preferably before we start. And I can’t tell her – at least not until we are about 20 pages into the first draft. Then all at once some real plot starts creeping into the scenes. Something clicks. There are choices to be made. Questions to be answered. Why does JJ dislike Edgar’s great nephew? And what’s his name anyway? [Note: find name that is different from any other characters – and for goodness sakes no more Irish names! Ask Marian.] Is the great nephew really a Marine? Is Edgar’s disappearance related to his relative’s visit? Do we want Edgar to have a major plot line in this book? Where did Carrie and Ray go? This was supposed to be their time to shine and they’re awol!

At that point in the process Marian and I start to figure out what the A and maybe B plot lines will be. We sift through the ideas – decide which ones make the most sense. We decide which characters we’re going to use in this particular book. A very loose outline is developed. We keep writing, alternating scenes, editing as we go. We watch for the C plot line to appear – a minor storyline that develops from an unexpected event or line of dialogue. Once it shows up, we deliberately expand on it and weave it throughout the book.

Sometimes after that initial twenty pages we have to start over – sometimes we just have to rewrite a few scenes. The opening scene always gets rewritten multiple times. But the main thing for me is to start. Not talk about starting, but start.

That’s my writing process.

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

What the Heck is Scaffolding?

/in /by

This week, we’re talking about writing process here at the Stiletto Gang and I am fortunate that I get to go on Wednesday, because it gives me a point of comparison to work with, given that Evelyn and Marilyn have written before me. I’ve come to the conclusion that the writers alongside whom I write here are much more organized and have a clearer vision of where they’re going and why in their stories than I do.

As with almost everything in my life, I’m convinced I’m doing it the wrong way.

When I started writing about Alison Bergeron six years ago, I started at the beginning, with the body in the trunk. From there, I jumped around, writing scenes as they popped into my head, going backwards and forward in time, finally reading the whole thing and filling in the blanks. I even had a couple of flashbacks to Alison’s college days, which thankfully, my eagle-eyed agent kindly asked me to remove. For those of you who read the “chicken salad sandwich” scene (and for those of you who haven’t, hopefully that will pique your interest), know that I wrote that shortly after I wrote the first chapter. I let my characters “talk” to me and tell me what they wanted to do and when. I still do this, by the way. I’m so intimately acquainted with Alison that when I write something that she wouldn’t say, she tells me, which keeps me honest. And no, I’m not crazy, even if I do have six or seven pretend people living in my brain talking to me about who they’d like to see murdered and why.

However, when I read my first draft of the manuscript now, I cringe. (See? That’s what a good editor will do for you.) Doing the book this way made more work for me, but it was my writing process and everything turned out fine in the long run. But there were a lot of inconsistencies that I’m glad my editor saw through to what she considered a good story with good characters. Still, I wondered if there was a better way to do this or if indeed, I was doing it correctly. I turned to my old friend (I call him that even though we don’t know each other) and writing teacher Stephen King for guidance.

On Writing was published in 2000 and is basically my writing bible. In it, King talks about his life, leaving nothing—including his bout with substance abuse—out while spinning the tale of how this kid from Maine grew up to become one of the greatest writers of our generation. But the message I took from the book mainly was that whatever your process, if it works, it works. No reason to tinker.

So I gave my process a name. I call it “scaffolding.” As time has gone on and I’ve written more books in the series, I’ve streamlined the process. I do write in order, but I do go back almost every day that I do write and see what I can add, delete, or revise. Do we need a clue? A red herring? A better ending to a chapter? It’s kind of convoluted but it works for me. Thank you, Mr. King, for giving me permission to approach writing as a bass-ackwards process of plot discovery.

And now, Alison and I are going to have lunch. She told me that she’s hungry and wants chicken salad. (Just kidding!)

Maggie Barbieri
http://www.maggiebarbieri.com

My Writing Process

/in /by

For each of my two series I have a manila folder jam packed with newspaper clippings, magazine articles and handwritten notes. For my Deputy Tempe Crabtree series it’s filled with small town crimes, crimes in mountain communities, anything to do with our local Indians and Indian legends along with ideas that’ve popped into my head. For the Rocky Bluff P.D. series, I collect larger city crimes that are mostly handled by police departments rather than the sheriff’s department, police procedure, funny things that happen in police departments, beach city crimes, interesting things about beach communities.

When it’s time to write a new book if I haven’t already gotten an idea, I peruse the pertinent folder and begin pulling articles out that interest me. Once I think I have a clue where I’m going, I may start doing some more research on the Internet concerning whatever it is I plan to write about.

The next step is creating the characters who will inhabit the book. In my Deputy Tempe Crabtree books of course there’s always Tempe and Hutch. I have to figure out who is going to be murdered and why, who wanted to see the person dead–at least three or four who could’ve done it. Of course there has to be a story around each of them. I like it best when I can use an Indian legend that works with or drives the story. In my latest, Dispel the Mist, what I wanted to include in the mystery was the legend of the Hairy Man. And of course I did.

In the Rocky Bluff P.D. I have an group of people, police personnel and their families. Along with the crime or crimes, I have to decide just who I’m going to showcase. I always want to be able to explore how whatever is going on affects the family and what is happening with the family affects the job. Fortunately, I have a lot of friends and relatives in law enforcement. Some I can observe, others I ask.

All the character information I write down on a legal pad. I write other things down too, just enough to get me started.

Once I really begin writing, it’s on the computer, but as other ideas come to me I’ll jot them down too. It’s amazing how, as I’m writing, things begin to open up to me and I begin to know more and more where I’m going.

I try to write every morning except Sunday. When I’m really going strong, I might write most of the day. I always stop in the middle of a scene so when I get back to the computer I know exactly what I’m going to write next.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I start reading chapters to my critique group who sort of act like my first editor.

Of course I’m going back over chapters all the time to make sure everything is where it ought to be and I haven’t left anything out.

When I think it’s done I send it off to an editor to look for mistakes and inconsistencies. Once I’ve fixed those I send the manuscript off to my publisher where it is edited once again.

That is my writing process from start to finish. It would be easier if I wasn’t always promoting a book from the other series while writing and if I didn’t have to do all the things everyone else does like washing, cleaning, cooking and running errands. I have it easier than many of my writing friends though, who are still working at full-time jobs. So I’ll count my blessings.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Look Who’s Talking

/in /by

This week at The Stiletto Gang, we’re exploring the writing process. Four authors, four different approaches to producing mysteries.

I’m Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David. In the five years that we’ve been collaborating together, Rhonda and I have often had this same conversation.

Me: So then what happens?

Rhonda: I don’t know until I hear the characters talk.

It’s taken me years to realize (and I confess that I’m slow in gaining these insights) that my writing is plot driven; for the Southern half, and she’ll speak for herself on Thursday, it’s character driven. I have to start out with a general idea of the whole storyline; whereas Rhonda insists that the characters will tell her what happens next once she gets them down on paper. Actually, that’s not a bad combination. It’s probably why, despite repeating the exact same conversation at least a dozen times in every book or story, our collaboration works so well (that and the fact that the Southern half has a wicked sense of humor).

I suspect my approach is the result of 20+ years of writing nonfiction books. Publishers insist on seeing a detailed Table of Contents, as well as a sample chapter, before forking over any money. There should be no big surprises when you write a nonfiction book. Of course, you’ll learn new things as you delve deeper into the topic; the emphasis may shift a little from what you proposed. But basically you know the ending before you start.

As with any successful partnership, both halves of Evelyn David have learned to compromise (early and often). Before we start writing, we talk through the A, B, and C plots of the book, know who our villain will be and what is his/her motivation. But it’s a loose outline subject to change – which is exactly what happened in both Murder Off the Books and Murder Takes the Cake. Rhonda was right. As the characters talked to us, we learned that the murderer we thought had done all those dastardly deeds couldn’t have killed a fly. About halfway through each mystery, the characters told us who was the “real” killer. I had to put aside my careful outline and listen to these chatty characters. They knew what had really happened.

As for my daily writing process. It involves a least a couple loads of laundry, maybe an online game of Spider Solitaire, two or three tournaments of online (no money involved) Texas Hold ‘Em – and then yes, procrastination finished, I write a couple of scenes that I’ve plotted out in my head and discussed with the Southern half. But I’ve learned to listen to what the characters are telling me to do. Sometimes they say, chuck the outline, here’s the real skinny…and then I hit the delete button and start over.

Rhonda would be so proud.

Evelyn David

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

The Poison Lady

/in /by

The Stiletto Gang is thrilled to welcome Luci Hansson Zahray, aka The Poison Lady. A popular speaker on the mystery circuit, Luci’s lectures on common household drugs and insecticides and their detectability (or undetectability, as the case may be) has made her the go-to girl on all things poison. Lucy is a toxicologist and pharmacist in Texas and talks about her one of her favorite topics today here at our humble blog…Tylenol. Welcome, Luci!

TYLENOL! Anyone who has ever heard me speak, knows I consider Tylenol (acetaminophen)to be the most dangerous drug in the home. Its not the most toxic, but it is the most dangerous. Acetaminophen is widely perceived to be safe. It is not. The lethal dose 50 percent of the time (LD50) has been lowered 3 times in the last 20 years: from 20 grams to 12grams to 8 grams (16 extra strength tablets equals 8 grams). The dose currently considered to be safe is 4 grams per day; however the newest recommendations will lowering the dose to less than 3 gms.

Because acetaminophen is a “hidden” extra ingredient in many products, it is extremely easy for someone to overdose. Many over the counter sleep products, cough and cold, sinus, headache and arthritis medications contain acetaminophen. Percocet, Vicodin, Lortab and Darvocet all contain either 325 or 500 milli-grams per tablet. With a recommended dose of 1 to 2 of those tablets every 4 to 6 hours, the maximum acetaminophen dose is readily exceeded. Individuals who abuse pain medications will reach toxic levels of acetaminophen long before toxic levels of narcotics are reached.

Sulfhydryl, SH, which given rotten eggs their smell are necessary in the metabolism of acetaminophen. In overdoses, acetaminophen depletes available sulfhydrl groups in liver cells, causing cell death and hepatic necrosis. After an overdose the patient may be asymphtomatic or may have mild nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain for 24 hours. The next 48 to 72 hours are generally without symphtoms; after that irreversible liver damage occurs. Death, in acute overdoses, from liver failure is painful and prolonged. Acetylcystine, a sylfhydryl donator, is used as an antidote if the overdose is caught in the first 72 hours.

Because of it’s general precepcition of safety acetaminophen is often employed in suicide attemps destroies your liver. Acetaminophen is synergistic with alcohol. I love trivia about poison; cabbage decreases the effectiveness (but not the toxicity) of acetaminophen. Since this blog is supposed to be about poison…. consider acetaminophen one of the 50 ways to leave your lover: “Oh honey, you look like you have had a hard day. Sit down and I will bring you a drink and some Tylenol.”

Luci Hansson Zahray

My Book

/in /by

Long before I wrote my first short story or novel, there was “My Book.”

About 15 years ago I started using a day planner regularly. Known to one and all as “My Book,” I keep my calendar, addresses (snail and e-mail), and important facts (size of vacuum cleaner bags, type of printer cartridges, etc) in there.

I like the Day Runner brand – Week-In-View – style with replaceable pages and a 7-ringed, leather zipped cover. It has to have a zipped cover so I can keep all the loose notes and folded bits of paper I add to the front or back of the book. For about a year I carried a copy of my Echelon contract around with me in “My Book.” Not sure I really needed daily access to it, but I did need to reference it a couple of times when I was travelling and my worn, much folded copy came in handy.

As much as I love computers and my Blackberry, one would think I would have made the leap from my pen and paper day planner to an electronic life monitor some time ago. I tried. Really I did. My father loves his Palm and gave me a basic model for Christmas some years back. I entered dates into the Palm but couldn’t give up my day planner. Where would I put all those bits of paper that people hand me? Where would I keep the copies of my hotel reservations, my coupons, meeting notes, and all those business cards that I need immediate access to?

“My Book” goes with me everywhere. If I forget and leave it in the car, I usually have to run out in the middle of the night and get it – there will be something in it that I need in order to finish a project, write a response to an email, or schedule a meeting. I have about two years worth of information in it at any one time. If I’m ever a person of interest in a crime and a detective wants to know what I was doing on any particular date, I’m ready! I can not only tell him where I was but what size air filters I was buying and whether or not that was “trash” day at my house. And yes, I do live in fear of someone stealing “My Book.” My only consolation is that it’s rather large and wouldn’t fit in someone’s pocket or purse.

Speaking of being ready, I need to order my 2010 inserts this month. I already have appointments and events to enter for next year.

How about you? How do you keep track of your life?

Evelyn David