Tag Archive for: Kay Kendall author

CHANGES—BIG AND SMALL

/in /by

By Kay Kendall

A few times during my
many years, I’ve reached a level of calm stability. My home life and work are
nicely balanced. My near and dear ones are healthy and reasonably happy. All
seems well.
When I realize I’m in
this condition, then I think, ah, this is
great. Once this stability becomes stasis, however, I get a little bored. And
then things* change, and the hits
just keep on a’comin and they don’t let up. At this point, I long to
be bored again.
Last August I‘d reached the
point of stasis. However, by then I’d learned enough to fear what lay ahead. And,
boy, was I right.
>My elderly mother-in-law declined,
and my husband spent a month in her faraway city tending to her. She passed on. 
>He immediately was diagnosed with a bad illness and went into gruesome
treatment.
>My daughter-in-law had a
strange illness that no doctor could fathom.
>A dear friend was
diagnosed with terminal cancer. She proceeded to have two strokes. I visited
her today in the nursing home.
>My writing had to give way for three months.
>My hairdresser of 22 years retired. 
In short, the roof fell in.                                              
And then the house next
door was torn down. See photo.
Now, here’s a funny
thing. That house was the worst on our block and had been deteriorating visibly
for twenty years. We waited and waited for someone to buy it, to tear it down
(this being Houston, after all, and everything gets torn down), and to rebuild.
I dreamed of when we’d live beside a McMansion, and our
home’s value would soar.
When all that finally,
finally began to happen, did I rejoice? No, I did not. Instead, I worried. The
jackhammers tearing up the cement would hurt our foundation. Our house would
develop cracks. The new neighbors would be dreadful. Things, in short, would
all go to hell. Or so I worried.
I have discerned a
pattern in myself regarding change. After I look forward to—even long for—change,
then when it finally arrives, I am displeased. Well, perhaps I do exaggerate.
I’m upset a little, and then I do adjust. But not until I have gone through a
period of great gnashing of teeth and ranting and raving.
Thank heavens that upset stage
has shortened over the years. These days I tend to get on with doing what I
must until, one day, I look up and see that everything is all right with my world
again. I used to fear I’d get stuck on a cycle I abhorred. Now I know that’s
not true. Things do change, whether you really want them to or not. They
change.
My husband’s illness has
taught me to stay in the half-full position. I eschew the half-empty one. That
way happiness does not lie. His condition is dangerous…it could be so much
worse. The doctors are fabulous in my large city. He will get well. So the
treatment is tough. He will get well. He is lucky. I am lucky.
I now apply this
half-full approach to everything I can think of that torments me. I haven’t become a Pollyanna. I don’t think everything
works out for the best. Instead, I’ve learned good things can grow out of
bad. If you only let them.
While all this may not make
sense to you, it does to me, and it took me a while to arrive at this
philosophical state. I celebrated a major birthday this week, by the
way. As my friend (since kindergarten) likes to say, we are still on the right side of the grass.

Once I thought her saying
was gruesome. I don’t anymore. It’s accurate. I know I’m lucky to be achieving
this large number of years. Some people never do. I’m one of the lucky ones.
Tell yourself that, too, no matter what. It can always get worse. Enjoy what
you have….By the way, I gave myself a new nickname. You may call me Zen. Or at least…Zen-esque! 
____________________
* For brevity’s sake, I
use the inexact term things to cover
a multitude of events, conditions, situations, settings, etc. etc 
*******   
Kay Kendall set her
debut novel, DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel RAINY
DAY WOMEN (June 2015) shows her amateur sleuth Austin Starr proving
her best friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in
Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay does for the 1960s what
novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the 1930s–present
atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age. She is also an
award-winning international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband,
three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she
loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 

Cameron Diaz and Women’s Liberation

/in /by
 by Kay Kendall                              

                                                                               

I don’t know about you, but I feel relieved. Various TV morning shows and
a plethora of online sources that follow celebrities’ doings say I can check
one thing off my worry list. Movie actress Cameron Diaz “is not going to die an
old maid.”
Really? In this day and age, wouldn’t you think that opinion was old hat?
What is this—the 1950s?
Lest you taunt me for being frivolous, I assure you my musings are quite serious
about the wedding of Ms. Diaz (42) and rocker Benji Madden (35). For the last
two years I’ve thought a good deal about how far we women have come, baby, as I
developed my mystery set against a women’s liberation background. Rainy Day Women takes place in 1969. Those
were early days in what is known now as Second Wave Feminism. (First Wave took
place in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, keying on legal issues,
primarily women’s right to vote).
From the vantage point of 2015, looking back at the sixties, you could assume
the women’s movement had changed many attitudes about appropriate behavior for
women. And then you slam into nasty offhand comments about poor Cameron Diaz. Believe me, this actress is no wallflower. Her dalliances with celebrity
boyfriends are the stuff of legend. To name only a few, there were heart throb
Justin Timberlake, Oscar winner Jared Leto, New York Yankee Alex Rodriguez, and
even P. Diddy  AKA Sean Combs.
With that dating background, Cameron Diaz needs a better commentary on
her marriage that took place on January 5. She deserves to be compared to
Warren Beatty, famous playboy who settled down with wife Annette Benning when
he was all of 55. They wed, had children, and are evidently living happily ever
after. When that happened, no one proclaimed he had been saved from a life of sad
bachelorhood.
This blog topic was thrust upon me when a longtime pal shared her ire
over media jabs at Ms. Diaz. My friend said, “A woman has many other ways to
fulfill herself or prove her worth than through marriage. Why hasn’t everyone
gotten beyond that narrow, old-fashioned opinion by now?”
Why indeed? Great question.
When I began writing Rainy Day
Women, my intent was to show the kinds of issues bedeviling women
45 years ago. They flooded into consciousness raising groups with senses of
despair over choices offered them in life—and then left those meetings
emboldened to follow their own paths. Despite being called unfeminine or
derelict of their familial duties, they set out to take control of their own
destinies.
Clearly there are still some people who want women to remain in
traditional roles no matter what. Female emancipation still scares many.
My husband likes to tell about the time he was traveling in Asia for
business and a male executive delivered a stunning view. “There are three
sexes in the world,” the man said. “There are men, women, and American women.”
My husband did not find that amusing. Rather, he shakes his head when he tells
the story, disturbed at such prejudice.
Okay then, I will now proudly place myself in that third category. If being
an American woman means I stand up for my rights as a person then, yes, I will
do that.
And as for Cameron Diaz, who has often gone on record as being uninterested
in marriage, I would tell her this: “Honey, you just go right on living as you
choose. Unmarried, married, or divorced—it is all up to you.” In short, you go,
girl! 
*******   

Kay Kendall set her
debut novel, DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel RAINY DAY WOMEN (June 2015) shows
her amateur sleuth Austin Starr proving her best friend didn’t murder
women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical
mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear
accomplishes for England in the 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture
the spirit of the age. Kay is also an award-winning international PR executive
who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills.
Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show
she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 
 *******

KK Exposed—Author Interview

/in /by
By Kay Kendall
Here
is a revealing interview I did some months back with Kings River Life, the
California-based online weekly magazine. See if you can spot the secret I divulge!
How long have you been writing?    

I began with my own
version of “The Night Before Christmas” at age seven. Later I wrote essays,lots of English major/then history grad student papers, then news releases and
annual reports during my long career as a public relations executive. In 1998 I
began writing fiction. Gloria
Steinem said it best: “Writing is the only thing I do that I don’t feel like I
should be doing something else.”

When did your first novel come out
and what was it about? My first novel is
DESOLATION ROW—AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY, published in March 2013 by Stairway
Press of Seattle. After Austin marries her college boyfriend, they move from
their native Texas to a foreign country. She has trouble coping with so much
change—and then her husband is jailed for murder. Alone, far from home, Austin
must find the real killer. When she also becomes a captive, things go from bad
to worse. Danger stalks two young lives and a new marriage. This fraught love
story rages through social upheaval and anti-war protests. Canada in 1968—surprisingly
hazardous.

Have you always written
mysteries/suspense? If not what else have you written?  My
first completed fiction manuscript was a literary novel. It did not sell. I put
it away and gave up writing fiction, but only temporarily. I still felt called
to write so I took up genre writing. I devoured nothing but mysteries for two
whole years and then began to write my own.

Do you write to entertain or is there
something more you want the readers to take away from your work? I’m
an anomaly in this modern world. I love learning about the past. It helps me
understand how we got from back there to here. If I can tell an entertaining
story that has some accurate historical detail to it, then I figure it’s an
easy way to help people swallow some history that I think they should be aware
of.

Do you have a schedule for your
writing or just write whenever you can? Pretty
much I write whenever I can. That said, I do have a pattern, based on sharing a
house with a husband who is now retired and, although respectful of my writing
life, deserves attention. Generally I write from noon until six in the evening.  
Do you outline or just wing it? I
work from a basic outline. It’s like a road map. I know the basic route but add
colorful detail—and red herrings—as I travel down that road.
 If you had your ideal, what time of day would
you prefer to write? I work routinely from noon to about six p.m. However, in an ideal world I’d
continue into late night. When I’m revising for publication under an editor’s
hand—a stage I adore—then I can write for forty-eight hours straight—with brief
timeouts for an occasional nap.  
Did you find it difficult to get
published in the beginning?
Oh
heck yes! Almost everyone does!
Do you have a great
rejection/critique or acceptance story you’d like to share?  A
well-respected publishing house for mysteries almost took my book, DESOLATION
ROW. Three editors liked it, the fourth—the
head honcho—did not. When she and I talked on the phone, she voiced two
quibbles. First, she didn’t like that it was set in Canada, since “Americans
don’t want to read about Canada.” (I bit my tongue to keep from saying—“You’ve
heard of Louise Penny, haven’t you?”) Then she said that my writing about draft
resisters during the Vietnam War did not tally with her memories. She concluded by saying that she usually didn’t
revisit a manuscript, but if I made some changes, she would review mine again.
I thanked her and hung up. She and I would not have been a marriage made in
publishing heaven. Two weeks later I had a contract from Ken Coffman, publisher
of Stairway Books in Seattle. He and his crew are ideal to work with. 
What are your future writing goals?  I’ve
embarked on my Austin Starr mystery series. My next will be out in June 2015, RAINY
DAY WOMEN. I plan at a minimum four books and hope for even more. God willing
and the creeks don’t rise…as the saying goes in Texas.
What kind of research do you do?  Because
I write about an era that I lived through, I do little research. I write from
memory, and then when I throw in specific place details or real historical
figures, I do a bit of online research to ensure accuracy. For DESOLATION ROW,
I had a justice of the Ontario Supreme Court read it to ensure accurate representation
of the criminal justice system in Toronto in 1968.
What do you read?  Historical
fiction, the occasional literary novel, and masses of mysteries and spy
stories. Also well-written thrillers, but I’m picky about those. Most of them
are just slam-bang things so they don’t interest me much. However, my favorite
novels of all time are JANE EYRE and ANNA KARENINA. 
What is something people would be
surprised to know about you?  I married
a Canadian and lived in Canada for two decades, an American in an unexpectedly different
land. I also was offered work with the CIA, but decided to study history in
graduate school instead. The spy world has always fascinated me, still does,
but now I’m glad I didn’t end up there. But I sure do love it in fiction.  
            
                     
                     
                     
                     
                     
               *******    
          


Kay Kendall set DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel
is Rainy Day Women, will be out in 2015. Her amateur sleuth Austin
Starr must prove her best friend didn’t murder women’s
liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical
mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear
accomplishes for England in the 930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture
the spirit of the age. Kay’s an award-winning international PR executive living in Texas with husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Allergic to bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show
she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 
 *******

My First Three Authors—or RIP P.D. James

/in /by
By Kay Kendall
     When I was the age of 20 through 45, I only had occasion to see
live, in person, three authors of note. The first was Truman Capote, soon after
In Cold Blood became a bestseller. He stepped out on the basketball court of
Allen Field House at the University of Kansas, a diminutive figure in a place
usually dominated by giants. 
     He smiled faintly at a crowd of a thousand people
and began to read immediately from his non-fiction account of the murder of the
Klutter family on a farm in western Kansas. He hypnotized the audience with his
performance, despite his voice being so high-pitched that it almost squeaked.
In Cold Blood went on to become today’s second highest selling true crime book
of all time—behind only Helter Skelter about the Manson murders.
P.D. James, 1920-2014
          One of my majors in
college was English literature so it was natural for me to be in awe of famous
authors whose work I admired. While I never got closer to Mr. Capote than the length
of three cars, I sat at the feet, literally, of Margaret Atwood when she read
her poetry to an adoring throng of women at the University of British Columbia
some four years later. Strangely, this author’s gig also occurred in a
gymnasium—although much smaller in size of room and audience than Capote had
had. When Atwood finished reading one poem that really captured my heart, I
embarrassed myself by gasping aloud and clapping ahead of the other audience
members.
         Twenty years after
the Atwood encounter, I saw a notice in the Houston Chronicle stating that P.D.
James would appear at a Border’s bookstore on a coming Sunday. Excitement
flooded through me at this news. I’d read and enjoyed all her mysteries and
decided to attend this book signing. I’d never been to one before and figured
she would be an excellent choice to start with.
         That hallowed day
dawned wet and gloomy. Undeterred by the rain, I drove half way across Houston
(no small undertaking) to meet P.D. James and to have her sign her latest
mystery, Original Sin. The ninth book in her series starring Commander Adam
Dalgleish featured murder afoot in a publishing company in London.
         I arrived early at
the bookstore but rather bedraggled from tramping across the parking lot in
torrents of rain. Houston was experiencing what I’d learned to call its version
of a monsoon. Once inside the store, I was told by staffers that Ms. James’s
plane was delayed by the weather, but she was expected to appear shortly. We
were encouraged to wait. A group of thirty did so.
         After an hour had
passed, the throng had dwindled by half. The restless remnant was told the
author would come, no matter what, but it might be a long while. I turned to a
women beside me and said, in honor of the author’s British heritage, “In for a
penny, in for a pound.”
         After a total of
three hours, P.D. James finally arrived. By that time only five dauntless
readers remained. I was second in line. She signed my book and talked
pleasantly with me for several minutes. I was so thrilled I thought I might
levitate.
         Looking back two
decades later, I no longer recall what we talked about. I do remember how kind and
gracious she was. Meeting P.D. James remains a high point in my life.
         When I read of her
passing last week at the age of 94, of course I recalled my shining moments
talking with her. Knopf Vintage, her longtime publisher, calls P.D. James “the
everywhere adored queen of crime fiction,” and she certainly was that for me. 
          I
think it is important to meet one’s heroes, to learn that they are flesh and
blood like you, in order to be inspired to follow in their foot steps, in
whatever small way possible. Had the august author been too tired and cranky
after her travel delay to appear or to be gracious when she spoke with me, who
knows if I would have gone on to write my own murder mysteries?
My generation of boomers coined the term groupie.  I realize now that term applies to me. I am a
groupie of certain authors. No, not in the regular sense since I don’t want to
sleep with my favorite authors. I simply want to BE them.
Have you had similar memorable encounters with authors
who resonated with you? I hope you have, and if so, I’d love to hear your
tales. Please share.
*******
                                                                                                                                               

 Kay Kendall set her
debut novel, DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel
is Rainy Day Women, will be out in 2015. Her amateur sleuth Austin
Starr must prove her best friend didn’t murder women’s
liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical
mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear
accomplishes for England in the 930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture
the spirit of the age. Kay is also an award-winning international PR executive
who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills.
Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show
she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 

 *******

A Sneak Peek at My New Mystery

/in /by
By Kay Kendall

Today
marks a red letter day for me. I sent the manuscript of my second Austin Starr
mystery to my publisher, Stairway Press of Seattle. Part of my celebration is
sharing with you a short excerpt from the book, RAINY DAY WOMEN, to be
published in June 2015.
The
tale is set in 1969, when my amateur sleuth Austin Starr is now the harried
young mother of a three-month-old son. Despite her family duties—to husband and
son—and the demands of her grad student career, she rushes to the aid of her
best friend, Larissa. She is a prime suspect in the murder of the leader of her
women’s liberation group in Vancouver. Soon another member of a women’s group
in Seattle is killed. Austin must find the real killer before her friend is
jailed for murder.
In
the excerpt below, Austin questions Mia, a friend of the dead women’s
liberation leader, Shona. I hope you dig
the sixties atmosphere, when in my book the Pacific Northwest is drenched in
blood, not rain, for a change.

 *******
 “I’m busting to
know what you think of him. Tell me.” I guess my voice got loud because two
passersby gawked at us.

Mia rolled her eyes to the heavens. “More questions.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Jack always said I was ballsy. Of course, I took that as a
compliment. He doesn’t like wimps. The problem with Jack and me, however, was
that we were competitors.”

“At
what?” I said.

“We
competed for Shona’s time, attention, and affection. Jack and I never talked
about it, but my sense is we both knew what was going on. He worked at getting
under my skin, and he succeeded. Jack belittled everything I did, called me
‘poor little rich girl.’ He was jealous of my wealthy family, but I wouldn’t let
Shona tell him how I’d been sexually abused.”

“Sounds
tricky for you to put up with. What happened when he succeeded in getting under
your skin. How did you react?”

She
ran her hands through her short hair and gazed across the street at the tall
trees on campus. I let her drown in her own thoughts for a while, hoping she’d
come out with something useful in solving the puzzle of two deaths. Or, at the
least, one—Shona’s.

After
a few moments, she turned to me and took off her sunglasses. “Once Jack and I
came to blows at a party, and I was the one who ended up throwing the first
punch. He was a drinker, and I did dope. In my experience, our two types don’t
mix well. That night he was ragging on me about being rich, and I had reached
my limit. I drew back my arm, aiming for his arrogant mug, but Shona jumped
between us. I pulled the punch, and it hit her shoulder instead, but not a hard
blow. Jack cackled in triumph and started pushing my buttons again, making
nasty taunts. With Shona there, I pulled my punches in general and just stomped
off.”

“Then
I guess you won’t have an unbiased answer to my next question.”

“Go
ahead,” she said. “Shoot.”

“Could
Jack have murdered Shona, and perhaps Bethany, too?”

“My
honest opinion?”

“Yes,
please.”

 “Jack could be the murderer.” Mia stopped and
put her sunglasses back on. “Absolutely, and there is no doubt in my mind.” 
*******
Kay Kendall set her debut novel, DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR
MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel is Rainy Day Women, will be out in
2015. Her amateur sleuth Austin Starr must prove her best
friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and
Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what
novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the 930s–write
atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age. Kay is also an
award-winning international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband,
three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she
loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 
 *******

Changing My Life Style

/in /by

by Kay Kendall

Five years ago I left my
public relations career of three decades and devoted myself to writing full-time.
I thought I knew what this would be like, but I was so wrong. My expectation
was that my life would be solitary, with little outside contact. My world would
shrink and my conversations grow few and far between—held mostly with my
husband, my dog Wills, and our three house rabbits. Well…wrongo!
Instead, my friend
list—both real and virtual—has multiplied like crazy. I converse with new people
all the time and have never been happier. Sure, I do spend hours in what I
fondly call my writer’s lair, dreaming up mystery plots and scheming villains.
But when I need a break, I go online and talk to my virtual friends all over
the continent or attend an author’s event. If it’s my own, I hang out with my
readers, and if it’s for other writers, I talk to writers I admire.  

T. Jefferson Parker and me

I don’t know if this is
true for authors who write in categories other than mystery/thrillers, but in
this genre, the writers are fantastically warm and welcoming. I expected the readers to be generous, but the
friendliness of other mystery authors was a wonderful surprise.
A case in point was a
signing event last night at Houston’s great Murder by the Book. T. Jefferson
Parker talked about his latest novel, FULL MEASURE.  He has written twenty acclaimed mysteries
over the course of his thirty-year writing career, and I’ve read and enjoyed
many of them. I first met him at the annual ThrillerFest conference held by
International Thriller Writers each July in New York City. That was in 2013
when my debut mystery was released. We shared experiences of writing a
book with the Vietnam War as a background. I talked to him again at
ThrillerFest in 2014, introducing myself again because I didn’t expect him to
remember me, even though we had emailed a few times. He said, “Of course I
remember you, Kay.”
His opening words at
last night’s event were, “Great to see you, Kay.” Well, if one of your writing
heroes says that, of course your sense of well-being soars. We talked about books, and he shared the
genesis of his new book, his first literary novel. A young Marine returns from hard duty in Afghanistan to find his America riven
by discord and his family farm under threat from the economic collapse of 2008.
I’m eager to read what this wonderful author has to say on these important
subjects. (He is only one of three writers who’ve won more than one Edgar Award.)
Some of my new friends are writers on this blog.
As a matter of fact, I am a participant because Linda Rodriguez invited me into
the Stiletto Gang after I met her just briefly. Gang member Majorie Brody and I did a book tour together in Alabama and met another gang member at Killer Nashville a few months ago, Debra H. Goldstein. So far other gang members are online friends whom I hope to meet some day soon. Again, mystery authors are
wonderful! My life is now quite literally a dream come true.
Lest you think it’s this
way with all groups of writers, I hear it is NOT so! A mystery novelist on a
Bouchercon panel a few years ago said he often went to meetings with his wife, a poet, and when poets gather, it gets downright chilly, and even vicious. Therefore he was stunned at his first attendance at
Bouchercon to find all the mystery authors so welcoming. That was my first
Bouchercon too, and I had just put my toe into the big ocean of mystery authors.
 I can’t speak for poets (Linda Rodriguez can though), but I guarantee you, mystery/thriller authors are
wonderful people.
Have you had similar experiences
with mystery authors or readers? I hope you have, and if so, I’d love to hear your tales. Please share.
 *******
                                                                                                                                                                        

Kay Kendall set her debut novel, DESOLATION ROW–AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel, RAINY DAY WOMEN, comes out next year. Amateur sleuth
Austin Starr must prove her best friend didn’t murder women’s
liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries,
Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes
for England in the 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture the
spirit of the age. Kay is also an award-winning international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel
Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles
show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 

 *******

Holiday Gift Giving, the Beatles and Joni Mitchell

/in /by
By Kay Kendall

Yes, of course, I admit
to rushing the season. Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza are all more than two
months away and here I am, discussing holiday gifts. Although on the one hand I’m
irked at the Christmas decorations going up so early all around Houston, on the
other hand I shopped online today for gifts. It was such a snap that I bought more than half of my Christmas gifts in less than two hours.

Ah, the ease of the
online wishlist. I have battled against the wishlist concept for several years.
Now I’ve succumbed. I give up. I’m going with the times.


If you happen to be over—let’s
pick a number—forty (as I am), then you recall when things were different. You
tried to surprise the gift recipient—surprise and delight. I picked up my joy of
gift giving and wrapping from my maternal grandmother who reveled in every
aspect of gifting. 

In the decades of my boomer youth, I watched her
decorate packages so imaginatively. She could have hired on for Neiman Marcus—a
store back in the day that did elegant gift wrapping. (Their efforts today are
a sad, pale imitation, fie!) What my grandmother could not do—not to save her
very soul—was to keep her gifts a secret. She got so excited that she just had
to give you hints–hints so major you could easily figure out what
your gifts would turn out to be. I took such pleasure in her enjoyment that I
didn’t mind.

Perhaps the idea of
telling Santa what you wanted for Christmas grew into the concept of wishlists.
But the wishlist of today has more power. Woe be to you if you give your under-forty
offspring something that is not on his or her wishlist. I fought against using
wishlists until a few years ago a dear friend said she had given up trying
to surprise her offspring with delightful gifts. Instead she chose from
the dreaded wishlist or gave gift cards. There was no pleasing her
grandchildren or children otherwise. 

This friend’s example was my first glimmer hinting at a mass societal change. A generational difference, clear and simple. And
that’s when I threw in the towel.

But I remember a different
time. I recall a December when I was a graduating high school senior. How I
wanted several Beatle albums and 45s to add to my collection. When any grownup
relative asked what I wanted for Christmas, “Beatles please” was my instant answer.


Meantime my mother and grandmother
would sit in the kitchen making cranberry loaves, fudge, and mounds of cookies…all the while talking about the Christmases of their youths. My mother said she’d been
pleased with mandarin oranges and pecan nuts in the toe of her Christmas
stocking, back in the 1930s. My grandmother recalled helping her mother go into
the farmyard in Ohio and select a goose for neck twisting, in the first decade
of the twentieth century–the holiday meal to be! I loved their quaint tales of
the good old days. (Probably these stories helped grow my lust for history.)

The following week saw
the morning of December twenty-fifth dawning. I went into the living room with
my parents (I, an only child, admittedly a tiny bit or more spoiled). I had expected
to call this my very own Beatles Christmas. But it was not to be. Arrayed in
front of the brightly lit tree was a set of three luggage pieces.

“You’re going off to
college next year,” Mother explained, delight shining in her eyes. “We knew you
could use some nice suitcases.” I murmured what I hope sounded like a sincere
thanks but kept eyeing other presents, looking for the telltale signs of even
one 33-long-play album lying under the tree branches. But John, Paul, George, and
Ringo were nowhere to be found.  

All was not lost however.
My paternal grandparents sent a check that I promptly cashed and turned into
the longed-for Beatles albums. But, oh, the rush of emotion, up and down, the
dramatic upheaval.

Things are so different
now in the high season of gift giving. Well
something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day. That’s the way
the song goes, Joni Mitchell’s beloved “Both Sides Now.”

So then, what’s your
opinion of the wishlist phenomenon? What do you remember about gift giving and
receiving in the “good old days?” What’s the routine at your house? I’d sure love
to know.

*******
Kay Kendall set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An Austin Starr Mystery,
in 1968, in an anti-war group. The sequel is Rainy
Day Women, set for 2015, and this time her amateur sleuth Austin Starr must
convince police her best friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in
Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay wants to do for the
1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the
perilous 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age.
Kay is also an award-winning international public relations executive who lives
in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly
allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a
Bob Dylan buff too. 
*******

More from BAKE, LOVE, WRITE–advice on love and writing!

/in /by

By Kay Kendall


The last time I posted here on The Stiletto Gang, I talked about the new cookbook of desserts called BAKE, LOVE, WRITE. I shared the recipe I contributed, called Aunt Martha’s Oatmeal Cake. Now I will also share my contributions for the love & writing parts! 
What’s your recipe for a lasting, loving relationship?

 Four ingredients make for a lasting,
loving relationship. The four C’s are: 
Caring           
Commitment 
Communication  
Conflict resolution.
If your relationship has those elements,
then chances are yours will go the distance. If things feel rocky, then analyze
against those four C’s. Get yourself to a trained therapist if you are having
trouble with conflict resolution, which of course rests on being able to
communicate well. 
Many couples have the first two—caring and commitment—but
founder on the next two. Luckily, with help and persistence, communication and
conflict resolution can be learned. And just because you and your partner talk
all the time does not mean that you are actually communicating. That’s a tricky one.
 What’s the best writing advice you ever received?
Be persistent and never give up. Most authors I know
make some false starts before they publish their first novels. It may take a
decade to accomplish your goal, but if you burn to write, then do keep at it.
The manuscript for my first novel I cannibalized for my second, so all that
work was not wasted. And my second manuscript became a published book last
year. One male mystery author says that writing
is like an informal game of golf—you get all the mulligans you want. While
you are practicing, take time to learn the craft. The internet provides a
wealth of information.
Take writing classes. Attend book signings. Find a
mentor. Participate in a writing group, as I have for many years, but finding
the right fit for yourself is key. Constructive criticism should be the rule,
and if the group or even one member delights in tearing people down, then run
for the hills. Writers’ psyches are fragile, and you want to be around
supportive folks. Also, attend writing conferences. You can learn from them,
but they’re also networking opportunities. All writers should
network—publishing is a relentless business.

A dessert cookbook with contributions by 105 authors…Bake, Love, Write is for sale in the major e-book formats at 99 cents and also on Amazon in paperback. 

*******

 Kay Kendall set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An Austin Starr Mystery, in 1968 in an anti-war group. The sequel is Rainy Day Women (summer 2015), and this time her amateur sleuth Austin Starr must convince police her best friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the perilous 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age. Kay is also an award-winning international public relations executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too.  


*******




Bake, Love, Write—3 Stiletto Gang Members Contribute to Dessert Cookbook — NEW!

/in /by
By Kay Kendall
Bake Love,
Write is a brand new cookbook full of delicious desserts. It is the brain child
of Lois Winston, a USA Today

bestselling, award-winning author
who currently writes the critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting
Mystery series.

Authors
from the US, UK, and Canada contributed their favorite recipes. Of the
participating 105, three are Stiletto Gang bloggers. We are Lynn Cahoon, Debra
Goldstein, and me—Kay Kendall.

Here
is information about this unique cookbook that may tempt you to buy it soon,
available online. Lois writes, “What do most
authors have in common, no matter what genre they write? They love desserts. Sweets
sustain them through pending deadlines and take the sting out of crushing
rejection letters and nasty reviews. They also often celebrate their
successes—selling a book, winning a writing award, making a bestseller list, or
receiving a fabulous review—with decadent indulgences. And when authors chat
with each other, they often talk about their writing and their lives. Recipes.
Writing. Relationships. In this cookbook 105 authors not only share their
favorite recipes for fabulous cakes, pies, cookies, candy, and more, they also
share the best advice they’ve ever received on love and writing.”

I contributed the beloved
family recipe of my Aunt Martha from Texas. Her recipe for Oatmeal Cake is given below. But, to read what I advise on Love and
Writing, you’ll have to buy the cookbook! 
Aunt Martha’s Oatmeal Cake
Deliciously moist cake that keeps and travels well, handed down
through the Texas side of my family for decades. If you can’t eat nuts, then
omit them and double up on the coconut for the topping.Note: This cake is easy to mix by hand. Does not require an
electric mixer.
 Ingredients for the cake:
1 1/2 cups hot water
1 cup oatmeal
(uncooked) 
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 cup cooking oil
2 eggs
1 2/3 cup sifted flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon soda
Dash of salt
 Ingredients for the topping:
6 tablespoons
margarine or butter
¾ cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons canned condensed
milk (Pet, Carnation, etc. NOT sweetened condensed milk)
1 cup chopped nuts
(pecan or walnut—can be toasted ahead of time too before baking as a topping)
1 can angel flake
coconut
 Instructions:
1. Turn oven to 350
degrees. Grease and flour a 9X13 inch pan.
2. Place oatmeal in a
bowl and pour hot water over oats. Let stand while you do next steps.
3. Blend brown sugar,
white sugar, and cooking oil in a large bowl.
4. Add eggs, sifted
flour, cinnamon, soda, dash of salt to the sugar mixture. Blend with a large
spoon.
5. Now add the
water-oats mixture and stir until all ingredients are well blended.
6. Pour into greased
and floured pan.
7. Bake at 350 degrees
for 35 minutes. Remove from oven.
8. Make the topping. In
a saucepan combine margarine, brown sugar and canned condensed milk. Boil for
one minute. Remove from heat and add chopped nuts and coconut. Blend.
9. Before cake cools,
spread the topping (from step 8) thinly over top.
10. Turn oven up to
500 degrees. Return cake-with-topping to oven and bake for 4-5 minutes. Watch
that nothing burns since the heat is now so high.
11. Remove from oven
and cool.
 This cake is delicious immediately, but even more moist and
yummy on the next day. If kept tightly covered with foil or clear wrap, this
cake stays moist and lovely for many days. It never lasts a week at my house,
but I bet it would be good even then.
Bake, Love Write will
sell in the major e-book formats at 99 cents and will be available on Amazon also
in paperback. Watch this space for more news.
 *******

Kay Kendall
set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An
Austin Starr Mystery, in 1968 in an anti-war group. The sequel is Rainy Day Women, set for 2015, and this
time her amateur sleuth Austin Starr must convince police her best friend
didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of
historical mysteries, Kay wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear
accomplishes for England in the perilous 1930s–write atmospheric mysteries that
capture the spirit of the age. Kay is also an award-winning international
public relations executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house
rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them
anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too.  
 *******

A Summertime Tease

/in /by

Here’s my addition to your end-of-summer reading, an excerpt from my first mystery. I’m hard at work now finishing up the second, to launch next June. Hope you enjoy this tease meant to tantalize. Let me know how you like it! I’d love to hear from you. Kay


DESOLATION ROW—AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY BY KAY KENDALL


CHAPTER ONE–1968

Austin hurried down Harbord Street in the deepening twilight. She’d tried the usual meeting place at the University of Toronto, but some bearded hippie said the anti-war group had moved, gone to the United Church on Bathurst. Which she was having trouble finding.

She was tired of rushing, her feet hurt, and her skirt was too tight. Carrying the container of muffins was awkward and slowed her down. Why did she bother to bake anything anyway? David’s anti-war colleagues would just gobble up her food and keep on arguing.

Hiking several more blocks, Austin reached Bathurst and turned north, searching for the flashing lights that marked Honest Ed’s. The popular cut-rate department store was near the church, and she hoped her weary legs wouldn’t collapse during those long, final blocks.

She stopped and slumped against a lamp post, catching her breath. Why didn’t she throw the blueberry muffins away and be done with them? That would be foolish and wasteful though, given how little money the transplanted Americans had. The draft resisters didn’t often thank her, but they’d be grateful for free food.

“Boo.”

Her heartbeat tripled while her gaze pierced the darkness. After an eternity, a small figure slithered out of the shadows. A devil’s red face, topped with horns, loomed before her.

Her jaw dropped open and she stifled a scream. What the hell?

“Trick or treat.”

Damn it. Halloween had completely slipped her mind.

“My goodness, you’re very scary.” Austin tried to slow her thudding heart by taking deep breaths, then leaned closer to view the devil better. He stared back, swinging a pillowcase no doubt filled with treats.

“I’ve got goodies. Do you want some?”

The devil child nodded solemnly, then grabbed the offering and skipped away shrieking. His cries were probably joyful, but to Austin they sounded sinister, like a ghoul howling into the urban wilderness.

She turned in a circle and examined her surroundings, noted for the first time the jack-o-lanterns decorating the stores. In her frantic rush to make the meeting on time, she’d ignored the signs of Halloween. A wave of homesickness washed over her. Back home in Cuero, Texas, Daddy would be dressed like an abnormally tall ghost and doling out candy with a lavish hand.

She set out once more, tramping past tacky storefronts that hadn’t seen a paintbrush in years. While she’d never dream of walking alone at night in a similar American neighborhood, she assumed it was okay in Toronto. Everyone did it. Everyone said the crime rate was low here. But while she’d felt safe just moments before, if worn-out and cranky, now she was rattled, even a little scared. Phantom lizards hopped around in her midsection.

When she finally reached the United Church, it opened its brick arms to her, representing a safe haven. Puffing, she raced through the side door, only to slam into a deathly silence. She’d expected the usual cacophony of arguing voices to greet her, to lead her to the meeting, but the old building felt like a mausoleum, not a meeting place or house of worship. The frustration of failure crashed against her fatigued body.

Summoning her last few ounces of energy, she dashed down the dim hallway.

“Ye better watch out,” an ethereal voice called. “I mopped the floor, and it’s still wet.”

Austin jerked to a stop and lost hold of the box she was carrying. It hit the floor, and the muffins burst out. She watched her baking—a labor of love shoehorned into a too-full day—rolling across the wet floor. She howled, sounding just like that devil child.

A stooped old man emerged from the shadows and shuffled to her side as she fought back tears. He leaned on a mop, using it like a crutch, and then reached down to help her.

“It’s okay, lassie.” He wheezed between words. “Your treats are only a wee bit dented. Look—some are still wrapped up pretty.” His hands trembled, but he managed to tuck a few wayward muffins back in the box. He tried to scoop up another, but had to stop, both hands gripping his mop, as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Thanks for your help, but I’ll get the rest.” She crouched down to finish cleaning up while the old man stood by and watched. Straightening, she said, “Do you have any idea where the anti-war meeting is? I’m late.”

“Those lads ran off somewheres. Maybe try the university, eh?” The janitor tried to lift up his mop, but his hands were so unsteady that he dropped it. The mop clattered on the linoleum, making Austin jump.

What was wrong with him? Austin inhaled a long breath—what was wrong with her? She felt guilty that he’d exerted himself to help her. He looked as old as her grandfather, and Gran was eighty. Now drenched in remorse and stymied, she simply wanted to flee.

“I can’t carry this stuff another step. Think I’ll just leave everything in the kitchen for y’all to enjoy tomorrow.” She shifted several steps away down the hall.

“But I must go,” he called after her, “and canna help you.” A violent coughing spasm interrupted him.

“That’s okay,” she stopped to yell over her shoulder. “I’ve been here before and know my way around.” Then remembering her manners, she swung around to thank the old man, but he’d already faded back into the dark, a slick move appropriate for Halloween.

She began to jog in the direction her memory dictated, listening to her footsteps echo in the empty hall. When she turned a corner to see a sign pointing to the kitchen, she grinned with relief.

“Something’s finally going right,” she murmured.

Austin pushed the door open and entered a room as dark as puddled ink. Promising herself never to bake for the group again, she inched through the murk, feeling along the wall for a light switch. Her ears seemed to catch the sound of scampering feet, and she quivered; mice gave her the creeps. After several cautious steps, one foot slipped. She almost fell, but instinctively grabbed the counter and righted herself.

With greater care, she edged ahead.

Her left foot hit something solid. She pitched forward, not managing to catch herself a second time. But the object she’d tripped over had some give to it and cushioned her fall.

“Damn, that was a close one.” She spoke aloud in the darkness, needing to fill the silence. Lying on the floor, she thought about just staying put. That had to be better than anything else she’d tried that day. Yet the smell of dust and something oddly metallic made her change her mind. She sneezed and reached for her purse, needing a tissue, but instead her fingers met a sticky, moist goo.

Her heart slammed against her breastbone, and she gasped.

The dark was no longer her biggest worry.

She lunged to her feet and felt her way back along the wall. Her quivering fingers found the switch and flipped it. Florescent lights crackled and illuminated the room.

Austin’s eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden flood of light.

Before her sprawled a man in a pool—no, a lake—of blood, and her blueberry muffins covered the most beautiful suede jacket she’d ever seen. She knew not to touch anything and squelched an urge to brush crumbs off the body. The blanket of baked goods made the man’s condition appear comical.
It was anything but.

She recognized him. No one who’d seen Reginald Simpson in action would ever forget him. But she mustn’t think ill of the dead.

Her legs were unresponsive planks. Frozen in place, Austin could only stand and gape at the corpse. Or what she guessed was a corpse.

Reg lay on his back. Blood covered one side of his head, catsup-colored and slick, shimmering in the light. She needed to check but hesitated, trying to recall her CIA Mentor’s advice for daunting moents like this.

“When you need to forge ahead but don’t really want to,” Mr. Jones used to say, “then just breathe deep and focus. Empty your head of expectations so you can absorb all the data that surrounds you.”

One gulp of breath was not enough. She took three more. Emptied her mind of fear and crept back toward Reg. Leaned down close, turned her face away to breathe deeply again, placed her fingers on the skin beneath his beard, and felt the truth. This was an inert thing, not a man. Reg was gone.

Warm bile rose in Austin’s throat. She needed to vomit but swallowed and gagged instead. Eyes closed, she willed the wave of nausea to pass. She’d never seen a dead person before, other than an aunt who had passed away peacefully of old age. But that frail body, lying in a satin-lined coffin in a pristine funeral home, belonged in a reality much different from this grotesque one with its figure laid out on a worn tiled floor.

Austin began shaking and grabbed the kitchen counter to steady herself, then jerked back, afraid to leave more fingerprints. After a few moments, her racing heart slowed and her curiosity overcame her initial fright. Here was an event plucked from one of her favorite mystery novels. It was morbidly compelling.

Using the hem of her blouse, Austin rubbed the place where she’d clutched the counter. Okay now, she told herself, get it together. What should she do first?

She’d often wished she could step into an Agatha Christie novel or work alongside Nancy Drew. Once Austin startled a friend when, upon entering a room, she abruptly declared, “That brass candlestick would make a good murder weapon.” However, surveying this scene, Austin didn’t see a single candlestick—or any other obvious implement good for killing.

She stepped back from the body and moved around the kitchen slowly. She peeked into an open container for trash, but it held nothing. Either the trash had been cleared away before the murder or the killer had taken it with him.

The closed cupboard doors called to her. “Open me,” they clamored. And so she did, again covering her fingertips with her blouse. This operation took a long time—using her blouse was awkward and added complexity to the process. And the kitchen was enormous and held many cupboards. Twenty-two. She counted them. Twice. The tedious process calmed her teeming brain.

Her gaze swept the room, searching for clues. For anything out of place. Anything unusual. Satisfied that there was nothing suspicious, she decided it was time to call the cops.

—and the story continues!

*******

Kay Kendall set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An Austin Starr Mystery, in 1968. The Vietnam War backdrop illuminates reluctant courage and desperate
love when a world teeters on chaos. Kay’s next mystery, Rainy Day Women (2015) finds amateur sleuth Austin Starr trying to
prove a friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and
Vancouver. Kay is an award-winning international PR executive living in Texas
with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly
allergic to bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob
Dylan buff too. #