B'Con Bound

With a nod to the great Mary Travers . . .




my bags are packed and I'm ready to go . . .


And I'm excited.


You may recall that last year was my first Bouchercon, and I had just the best time ever. I'm excited about this one, and know I'll just have the best time ever (again!).



Last year I went not knowing what on earth I was getting into, but quickly felt as though I had found my tribe. A lot of people had told me this was what would happen - but I was skeptical, to say the least. But I'm here to tell you - the mystery community is just the greatest, most generous, most welcoming group of people on God's green earth. For real.

This year I'm going with a load of fun plans made well in advance. The fun begins bright and early at the Greensboro Airport where I'm meeting my traveling buddy, BG.

We're then meeting up with some more North Carolina folks - but not until we reach the Indianapolis Airport. From there BG & I plan on sharing a limo with Karen and Molly and Vicki to our hotel. Dinner plans Wed. night with Mary Jane, Liz, Sandy, Caryn, Vicki, Molly and Karen, a 6:30 breakfast Thursday morning with Judy, lunch with WendySis & Jonathan, dinner . . . . and the list goes on . . . . right up until the convention comes to an end on Sunday afternoon.

And if you'll stop back by next week, I'll tell you all about it. With a beezillion pictures to boot.

Y'all. It is going to be too fun! I'm excited.

Looking forward to seeing a lot of you there.

Sad that I'll be missing several of my favorite folks who are unable to be there this year . . . You will be missed!

Louise Penny's Thanksgiving Sunday

Since I was a child I've dreamed of writing and now I am. Beyond my wildest dreams (and I can dream pretty wild) the Chief Inspector Gamache books have found a world-wide audience, won awards and ended up on bestseller lists including the New York Times. Even more satisfying, I have found a group of friends in the writing community. Other authors, booksellers, readers - who have become important parts of our lives. I thought writing might provide me with an income - I had no idea the real riches were more precious but less substantial.
Friendships.

There are times when I'm in tears writing. Not because I'm so moved by my own writing, but out of gratitude that I get to do this. In my life as a journalist I covered deaths and accidents and horrible events, as well as the quieter disasters of despair and poverty. Now, every morning I go to my office, put the coffee on, fire up the computer and visit my imaginary friends, Gamache and Beauvoir and Clara and Peter. What a privilege it is to write. I hope you enjoy reading the books as much as I enjoy writing them.
http://www.louisepenny.com/







Scattered showers, cool, temps 7

It’s actually about right for this time of year in Quebec, though I notice there is snow – SNOW I say – in the forecast for later this week.

It’s Thanksgiving Sunday here in Canada. In southern Quebec, the leaves are at their height, turning astonishing, blushing, shades of red and amber. It’s as though the forest was suddenly made of stained glass. All sorts of colours, and when the sun hits them, it’s magical. As I write this I hear my two brothers laughing downstairs in the kitchen. It’s a sound a hear once a year, if that.

My older brother, Rob, lives in Edmonton, Alberta, where he is the Assistant Deputy Minister for the Environment. We’re very proud of him – but know that he still has difficulty remembering to flush the toilet. It seems ironic, really.

Rob is here with his wife of 28 years, Audi. If you look closely you can see scars on Audi’s arms from the house fire when she was a child. The fire that killed her parents and siblings. She’s Cree and was raised by a half-brother and his wife. And is perhaps the most wonderful mother I’ve ever seen. So grateful for her own healthy children. And Rob is so grateful for her.

My younger brother Doug had long, silky, blond hair growing up. I had mousy brown. He is now bald. I am not. I am grateful for both those things – and never fail to tell him that. But I’m grateful for much more when it comes to Doug. If there was ever anyone I was going to murder growing up, it would have been Doug. He would argue about everything and anything, choosing the most nonsensical fights, and somehow winning every one. I sympathized with our mother who tells the story of taking her own younger brother for a walk in his pram one day and coming home alone.

Where’s Ken, my grandmother asked.

My mother’s response? All gone, no more.

Seems she’s left him on the railway tracks. He was rescued and ‘All gone, no more’ has become both a family joke and threat. Like Doug’s hair. All gone, no more. But you can see that murder is never that far from a Penny mind.

Doug was a hugely successful investment dealer in Toronto for many years, with a lovely, kind wife and three children. Then one day he had a crisis of conscience and realized his life, for him, was hollow, callow. He needed to find meaning. So he quit his job, took up meditation. Worked construction. Now helps raise the kids. Found a wonderous guru named Amma. He lives in a tiny apartment, separated from Mary and the kids, but seeing them everyday. His life is rich and full of meaning, and tolerance and patience. Full of prayer and gratitude and simplicity. He and Mary are best friends, and his children adore him.

What a lovely, kind, God who gives souls like Doug another chance. Has given Audi another chance. Has given me another chance. Has given my husband Michael another chance after losing his first wife to cancer. And daring to love again.

This is a day not to reflect on murder but on mystery. The mystery of hope. And the place of gratitude and thanks in a life fully lived.

Give-Away Winner

The winner of my Give-Away

is

Caryn St. Clair



Caryn wins a copy of Clothes Lines.

If you'll drop me a note with your address, Caryn, I'll drop your book in the mail tomorrow. OR, since it just so happens I'll be seeing you in Indianapolis, I could bring it to you. I'll leave that up to you.

Our President - Nobel Peace Prize Winner

In an announcement that apparently surprised practically everyone in the entire world, the Norwegian Nobel Committee announced they would honor President Barack Obama as Nobel Peace Prize winner for his "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples."




President Obama responded by saying he was "surprised and deeply humbled" by winning the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. Further saying, "I do not view it as a recognition of my own accomplishments, but rather as an affirmation of American leadership."

"I will accept this award as a call to action."

Obama said he did not feel he deserves "to be in the company" of past winners.



The Nobel announcement was a stunning decision that comes just eight months into Obama's presidency.

What some other Nobel Peace Prize winners have to say about it:

"He has had a very significant impact. It (his presidency) has changed the temperature and almost everybody feels a little more hopeful about the world." - Desmond Tutu (1984)

"In less than a year in office, he has transformed the way we look at ourselves and the world we live in and rekindled hope for a world at peace with itself." Mohamed ElBaradei (2005)

"In these hard times people who are capable of taking responsibility, who have a vision (of problems), commitment and political will should be supported." Gorbachev (1990)"


And then up pop the nay sayers.

Y'all.

I have never been so weary of politics in my life.

I have always been fairly politically active.

I can remember when people from different parties could discuss political differences.

Aside and apart from politics, I can remember when people were kinder to one another. When we all showed one another respect in our daily interactions with one another.

What on EARTH has happened to us?

Now, people like Rush Limbaugh - NOT an elected official (THANK GOD!) - can become a talking head for an entire political party. News stations can broadcast "news" that is simply not true.

All of this anger surfaces in too many places, too often.

I'm as guilty as anyone else, I'm afraid.

In response to a posting on Facebook this morning that was lambasting Barack Obama, and the Nobel Committee, asking what had Obama done to deserve the prize, I fired off the following response:

"Well. For one thing, he tries awfully hard to start with a grass roots approach of encouraging people right here in our own country to show a little bit of kindness, courtesy and respect to one another. It "could" grow from there IF people would stop thinking the two political parties (both political parties included) would stop acting like they're Junior Varsity sports teams in a pissing contest and get on about the business of actually running the country - you know, the job they were elected to do. Where they're instead getting GREAT health benefits and GREAT retirement plans which will have them set for life while creating a country of homeless, uninsured American citizens. But it's loads more fun to just call the man who was elected as president names and ridicule everything he does and or attempts to do. Of course he hasn't gotten world peace in the short time he's been in office, but he's at least undoing some of the evil the last president did. People around the world don't seem to hate Obama as much as they did Bush. It's only our own citizens who now hate the president."

And then, immediately after posting the above rant (and since that's exactly what it was - a rant, it's a bit garbled and I apologize for that), I happened to glance up and my eyes caught sight of a bumper sticker I have stuck on a filing cabinet in my office. And it gave me pause.

Words are powerful, and I wish we could all remember that. I include myself. I don't have a smidgen of control over what anyone else does, or says, or believes. I need to remember this and just take care of my own actions and my own carelessness with words.

And not only remember the words on this bumper sticker, but live them - - - -

and I'm making a promise to myself, right now, to try to do better - beginning right now.



But. I have also always, my entire life - even as a little girl - spoken up when I've seen injustices being done. I hope I never become so cowed or intimidated by anyone to ever forget a quote I have always lived my life by -

‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing’

Wednesday Evening Meanderings

Donald and I have just gotten flu shots today.

First flu shots we've ever gotten in our 24 + years together. The only time either of us has had the flu was the first year we were together and we were two very sick puppies. We both missed two and a half weeks of work. That's a huge chunk of missed work at one time!

Since then, we've both had a few pretty bad colds and I had bronchitis once and thought it was going to absolutely put me in my grave, but basically we're two of the healthiest people I know.

All this flu talk this year, along with the fact that I'll be getting on a plane next Wednesday, helped us decide that we might need to break with our "no flu shots" tradition. And so we did. Now we'll just see how it goes. This was the seasonal flu shot, the H1N1 shots won't be available till later, and the way I understand it - that's being recommended in addition to the seasonal shot. Seems like an awful lot of shots to me.

I've not been overly impressed with the seasonal shot in the past - seems like whatever vaccine is chosen ends up being the wrong one to fight that year's flu. But oh well - what do I know.

Anyway. We've had our shots.

But I don't really want to talk about the flu, or flu shots.

Many of you are members of DorothyL, so you'll be familiar with this lovely little book that I do want to talk about. THE WRITER'S JOURNEY JOURNAL: Inspiration, Information and Humor to help you find your way as a writer. It came up in conversation at DorothyL just this week. It is a lovely little book! It's compiled and edited by Tony Burton, and it's available through Wolfmont Press. Mine was a gift from my friend Radine Trees Nehring who writes the "Something to Die for" mystery series, which I adore. In the first book of the series, A VALLEY TO DIE FOR, this passage in the introduction grabbed me, and the series has maintained its hold on my heart ever since. "She began to turn slowly, still looking up into the treetops. She was, she decided, performing a symbolic ritual--turning away from asphalt, traffic, lined-up buildings, and rushing people. She was also turning away from Mrs. Amos Anderson McCrite, city wife. She was now Carrie Culpeper McCrite, independent woman, and Ozarks forest dweller.

She stood in a green well with walls unbroken by anything but the narrow window of her lane to the road."

This passage SO perfectly describes the very feelings I had the day Donald and I moved into this little house we now live in here in Boone, NC. We moved to this little town in the North Carolina mountains from Atlanta. And I did feel just like Carrie; like I was turning away from asphalt, traffic, lined-up buildings, and rushing people. I was totally blown away that someone could write what I was feeling! I immediately felt a kinship towards Ms. Nehring, but had no idea we would go on to become friends.

I was touched and honored by Radine's gift. I admired it, I picked it up over and over and read the essays included - many written by people from the mystery community who I know, or know of, and I enjoyed reading the quotes included on the top of each page. It's a simple delight. But I never wrote the first word in it. During a recent conversation about THE WRITER'S JOURNEY JOURNAL at DorothyL, I mentioned that I may have finally decided that I was actually ready to put the journal to the use for which it was intended and actually write in it. Maybe.

I've been in the terrible habit of jotting down ideas about things I want to blog about on whatever's handy - my desk calendar, a sticky note, the backs of envelopes - you know what I mean. We're all guilty of jotting those odd and random little notes to ourselves, many of which we never see again. One of the DorothyL members, Jenny Milchman, who writes the wonderful "Suspense Your Disbelief" blog suggested a fun thing. Start using the darn book, and then put a copy of one of the pages from the journal with my notes on it right here in Meanderings and Muses. So here 'tis. You probably can't read my notes, and that's O.K. - they're all ideas that will end up here anyway, and probably pretty soon. And I must say - allowing myself to finally write in my Writer's Journey Journal is fun. It's satisfying, fulfilling, makes me smile and it's just . . . fun. I've always been a firm believer in doing little things for ourselves which make us happy. We all need to allow ourselves little pleasures that bring us those feelings of fulfillment and bring forth a smile. Life is short. We only get to do it once. No dress rehearsal, as that saying goes. So why not do it with a smile? And if it's something as small as allowing yourself to write in a sparkly new journal, with bright shiny pages begging to be written upon, then what's the hold-up?! Go ahead, write away, then sit back and admire how beauteous 'YOUR' words look upon that page.

And now -

I LOVE give-aways, and wish I could do more of them.

I'm going to work on that.

But while I'm doing that, I do have a copy of a book I'd love to give to someone who might be interested.

Nope - NOT a copy of THE WRITER'S JOURNEY JOURNAL - Sorry! You'll have to find your own copy of that (and you should!).

But, if you're interested in receiving a copy of another book I've been squealing about here at Meanderings and Muses lately, (squealing about quite a lot, actually), just leave a comment at the bottom of this post. I'll draw a name on Saturday, and post the winning name on Sunday. Please check on Sunday, and if you're the winner, send me an email with your mailing address so I can get the book in the mail to you on Monday. (If we don't take care of this on Sunday and Monday, it will have to wait till I return from Bouchercon, and I'd rather not have it wait that long. )

Have you guessed what the book is?! Bet you have!

Here tis - ta DA!



Clothes Lines from 75 western North Carolina women writers.

i just love this book.

The Kindest Cut by Shirley Wetzel

I was born in Comanche, Texas, but I soon got bored and hopped a train bound for Key West three weeks later, accompanied by my mother and big sister. My dad was in the Navy, and we bounced around the country, finally settling back in Texas.

I started writing as soon as my fingers could hold a pencil, and have never stopped. Most of what I wrote was for my own amusement, but a few years ago I decided to get serious and started submitting personal essays, historical stories, and such to magazines, newspapers and anthologies. To my amazement, I sold most of them. My first love, though, is mystery. Last fall my first mystery short story was included in A DEATH IN TEXAS, published by L&L Dreamspell. I love to travel, and have seen a lot of the world, including Thailand, where I lived for two years, Guatemala, where I worked on a Highland Maya archaeological excavation, Turkey, Peru, and various parts of Mexico. My current work in progress is a mystery titled A Death in Comanche, and it's been in progress a loooong time. I write book reviews for overmydeadbody.com, and sometimes for Mysterious Morgue. My blog address is http://swetzel.wordpress.com


The Kindest Cut by Shirley Wetzel

I always wanted to be a writer, someday. All through my school days, college years, and working life I wrote essays, poems, and stories, then filed them away, waiting for the day when I really became a writer. I won contests, impressed the kinfolks with my recording of family stories, and amused my friends and co-workers by writing short stories, usually mysteries, using them as characters. Decades went by, and still I was not a writer, according to my personal definition. I took writing classes, thinking this would finally qualify me to be a "real" writer. I studied writing markets, read numerous "how to be a writer" books, and read voraciously, especially the books of successful writers that I admired. What I did not do was submit anything. It was just too frightening to send my darlings off into the cruel world, where surely they would be summarily rejected and I would be exposed as a no-talent hack. No, someday I would be ready to join the fray and take my chances – just not yet.

There was one market I wanted to break into over all others. Back in the day when newspapers were still worth reading, the Houston Chronicle had a Sunday magazine that featured personal essays pertaining in some way to Texas. I read each essay carefully, even typed them out to get the rhythm of the pieces I liked, and thought "I can do this!" I wrote my own essays, then put them in a drawer. Not yet …

Finally my fiftieth birthday loomed on the horizon and I realized, ready or not, it was time to fish or cut bait, do or die, publish or perish – just do it.

And I did. I pulled out my favorite piece, the story about my aunt and uncle, a love story with tragedy and triumph that illustrated the strength of the human spirit and the power of love. I polished it until it gleamed, put it in an envelope, said a few prayers and incantations, and sent it on its way. A few weeks later my stamped, self-addressed envelope showed up in the mailbox. It was too thick to contain only an acceptance letter. With trembling hands, I opened it, trying to steel myself for my first rejection. At least I'd tried!

I pulled out the manuscript, looking in vain for the form letter I knew must be there. Had it been so awful the editor didn't even bother to do that much? Then I looked at the first page and saw hand-written notes in the margin. The editor, Ken Hammond, had obviously taken the time to read every word. It was a rejection, for sure, but by the time I finished reading his encouraging, helpful and kind comments I felt anything but rejected. He said that the story was heartfelt, beautifully written, but just not quite what he was looking for. Best of all, he encouraged me to try again, and enclosed the writers' guidelines. He didn't say "who do you think you're trying to fool," or "don't bother me with this tripe again," or any of the other awful things I had feared. He thought I was a writer. And just like that, I knew I was one, and I began acting like one.

I took that essay and shortened it and re-worked it, submitting it to a column in the newspaper called Among Friends. A couple of weeks later I was checking my e-mail, browsing through countless spam and boring work memos, when I came across one from the Chronicle. The editor liked my story, and because my uncle was a World War II veteran and that was part of my essay, she wanted to run it in the Memorial Day issue.

As soon as the essay was published, I started getting calls from friends and neighbors and every relative in the area telling me how much they liked the piece. I even got a few calls from total strangers complimenting my story – I had FANS! This author business was heady stuff. I started submitting more of those pieces that had been gathering dust in the bottom drawer, and writing new ones. Some were accepted, some were not, but it was all grist for the mill.

That was several years ago. I still drag my feet, still fear rejection, but I no longer doubt that I AM a writer. There was one big disappointment, however.

I kept submitting essays to State Lines, and Mr. Hammond kept turning them down, always gently and with encouragement to try, try again. Finally the day came when he said "this is it, I like this one, if you can just tweak it a bit I want to print it." I think he was just as happy as I was that I was finally achieving my dearest goal. It wasn't even one of my more heartfelt family tales, but the story of a girl, a gun, and a squirrel named Squeaky. Mr. Hammond said he didn't usually print stories about animals, but there was something about this one … A few weeks later, I got a letter from him. I tore it open, expecting it to be the final acceptance of the story. My heart sank when I read his words. The Chronicle was "undergoing changes" and the Texas Magazine was no more. He apologized for not being able to print my story, thanked me for my submissions, and wished me well in my writing.

I was disappointed, but did not give up. I wished that I could thank Mr. Hammond for his gentle and positive rejections, and one day I got that chance.

It turned out that he lives near one of the members of my writers' group. I told her my story, and she brought him to the launch of our anthology, A Death in Texas, which contains my first published mystery short story. I gave him a copy of my essay.

A few weeks later, he sent me an e-mail:

Dear Shirley,

What a personal and emotion-touching essay you wrote with "The Kindest Cut." As I read it, I found myself hoping that essay would be printed in State Lines, even though I knew it would not be. That's a tribute to your skill and honesty.

As for your kind words about my rejections, thanks you. …You are a writer, indeed …

Ken Hammond

Give-Away Winner (and a new give-away coming soon)

In my "Neat Stuff! including a Give-Away" post of 9/23 I offered an ARC of Allison Burnett's "Undiscovered Gyrl."


The winner was Shannon.

Shannon, send me your mailing address and I'll get this in the mail to you!

Thanks much!
Kaye

p.s. - There will be another give-away announced later this week.

This is fun!!

Friday Night Meanderings

This has been a particularly fun filled, eventful week. I've had some very sweet blessings bestowed upon me, like a sparkly tiara placed upon my head.

My friend Radine Trees Nehring, author of the "Something to Die For" mystery series which I adore, left the following at DorothyL:

"WOMEN ONLY: Just finished CLOTHES LINES, edited by Celia H. Miles and Nancy Dillingham. WOW, every woman here on DL should read this, though it is not a mystery. It's a collection of essays, little stories (true) and poetry by 75 women from western North Carolina. Kaye Barley is one of the authors, with her "Needing a Little Something Red in My Life." I loved Kaye's thoughtful opinion piece and tell-all about wearing red (and indeed, it seems wearing red, especially red shoes, cheers many women here and in the general population). I think all female readers will find many things that cause them (sure caused me) to click their tongues, smile, and say "Yesssss!" A couple other favorites of mine were "Let's Talk Bras" by Nancy Purcell, and "Sixty-Something," a poem by Nancy Townley Moore. And...oh shoot, I loved it all. Poignant, funny, REAL. Enjoy!"

'Course, now I've already squealed about winning the MWA Hot Ticket Event at Bouchercon for Lee Child, and - well, I guess I'm still squealing about it a little bit. But in case you missed it, please see the post below (big grin).

While I was squealing about that a few days ago (please see the post below), I came across a lovely little surprise that had been left in the comment section (which you can see in the post below).

Bloggers ponder about who some of their anonymous visitors might be. Who are they? What brought them here? What did they think?

It's always nice when those visitors finally feel comfortable enough to leave a comment and let you know they have actually dropped in more than once or twice and have found your little spot to be to their liking. That's a very rewarding feeling.

Patricia Stoltey, author of THE DESERT HEDGE MURDERS and THE PRAIRIE GRASS MURDERS not only dropped by and left a comment, she left us an award. And it's a very meaningful one. (I could say please see the post below, but I won't this time).

The Honest Scrap Award. Doesn't really sound all that meaningful by the title does it?! And it made me chuckle. Scrap, huh?! harumph. (Bloggers are rarely accused of being humorless.) But. The meaning of the award - as Patricia remarks at her blog - is sweet and kind and worthy of sending on to the right folks.

It's an acknowledgment of bloggers who post from the heart.

I'm honored to have been included, and very much appreciate Patricia's generosity of spirit.

The award rules are simple - pass the award to seven worthy bloggers who post from the heart, and list ten honest things about yourself. Along with the rules, this statement was added: "You don’t have to pass it along, unless you want to, but you do have to list 10 honest things about yourself."

I do want to pass it along.

It's fairly easy for me to choose blogs I think are posted from the heart. It's hard to narrow it down to seven.

I'm known for breaking the rules when it comes to keeping a list to the number requested, so in an effort to appear grown-up about it all, I'm going to play by the rules tonight. Here are my seven picks for the Honest Scrap Award.

These are folks who blog with a huge amount of heart. Heart which shines through their writing as clear as crystal. I think I could read anything written by any of these people and know right away who it was written by. If you're not already familiar with their blogs, I encourage you to stop by and check them out.

Jen's Book Thoughts

Blackwater Tales

Coffee With A Canine

Exile's Return

Swetzel's Weblog

Will Read for Food

Vicki Lane Mysteries

I remind each of these folks that it really is not necessary for them to pass it along. I happen to know that some of them are exceptionally busy right now, so it's understandable that they not have the time. A couple of them are getting ready to go to Indianapolis for Bouchercon, one is working on a manuscript in hopes of having their first published novel (and it is WONDERFUL!), another is working on their next book, one is traveling . . . life does keep us hopping.

Moving on to Rule #2. A list of ten honest things about myself. There wasn't anything included about these things having to be things some of you may not know about me, so this is pretty easy. I'll just list ten things I love (in no particular order, but just as they pop into my mind) - how's that? And notice I said "things," so I won't include the people (or pets) I love.

books, pizza, Meanderings and Muses, positive people, chocolate, my cowgirl boots, jewelry, sunrises, my digital camera, good coffee. It's fun to list things you love!

I'd have to say this has been a very good week.

Y'all. Life is good.

Me and Lee Child - EEK!

The Midwest Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America is sponsoring The MWA Hot Ticket Event at Bouchercon which is a way fans can win one of ten lucky tickets that will enable them to spend approximately an hour with one of their favorite MWA authors at B'con this year. The authors participating are:

• Lee Child
• Michael Connelly
• Joseph Finder
• Sue Grafton
• Charlaine Harris
• Carolyn Hart
• David Morrell
• Sara Paretsky
• PJ Parrish
• SJ Rozan
• Wendelin Van Draanen

There were rules about How to get a HOT TICKET posted at the MWA Midwest Chapter website, and the Bouchercon 2009 website, and it was announced at DorothyL and several other places. The rules were stated as follows: The quest for one of the first five tickets for each author begins now! Tell us, in less than 150 words, why you should get a ticket. Be creative! For example, tell us about your six degrees of separation from the author, or cite a quote from one of their books and what it means to you, or tell us the question you’ve always wanted to ask him or her. You have 150 words to convince us you’re the one who should be in that small group setting. Give us your best reason!

Second Chances: If you don’t win one of the first five tickets, don’t despair…there’s a second chance drawing for the remaining five tickets to each author’s event. Watch this website for more details on how to get into the second chance drawing, or visit the MWA booth at Bouchercon to enter.

What a lovely idea they came up with!

The opportunity to be a part of an hour visit with one of these legends of the mystery world just sounded too cool to pass up. And after some waffling, I decided to try my hand at writing 150 words about why I should be one the lucky people selected. And if I could choose just one of these authors to spend an hour with, who would it be?

I chose Lee Child.

Most everyone who knows me knows I'm over the moon crazy about Lee Child's work (and him - isn't he dishy?!), but making that choice wasn't as easy as it sounds. I mean, look at the names on that list! And while I could have tried my hand at writing something for more than one - well, I'll tell you. I worked so long and so hard on the piece I did for Lee Child, I just didn't think I had it in me to do it again.

Many of you may have figured out by now, being concise is not one of my strong suits. Getting to the point takes me awhile. As far as I'm concerned, 150 words is just warming up! Michael Dean, a very dear friend of mine who I will miss till the day I die, used to say this to me almost every day - "Kaye. Can we just have The Reader's Digest version, please?!" I just never have gotten that right, I'm afraid (apologies to Michael, who I'm sure never expected me to).

But I guess my 150 words were O.K., 'cause I've been chosen as one of the lucky people who will get to spend about an hour with Lee Child along with 9 more lucky people. Hooray and Yippee Skippy!

Will it be fun?!

Am I excited?!

Boy Howdy!

Honeys!

I am over the moon!

If you read my post Bouchercon 2008 - My First B'con, you may remember me squealing about meeting Mr. Child, thanks to an introduction by my friend Sandra Ruttan. And even working up the nerve to ask him if we could have a picture taken together. And being lucky enough to have Reed Farrel Coleman take the picture (one of the few of me that turned out fairly well!).

See?!


Well.

Seems I'll be having some things to squeal about right here at Meanderings and Muses when I return from this year's Bouchercon too.

Pfft! was there ever any doubt?

Alice Duncan Doing What She Always Wanted to Do

Award-winning author Alice Duncan lives with a herd of wild dachshunds (enriched from time to time with fosterees from New Mexico Dachshund Rescue) in Roswell, New Mexico. She's not a UFO enthusiast; she's in Roswell because her mother's family settled there fifty years before the aliens crashed. Since her two daughters live in California, where Alice was born, she aims to return there as soon as possible. Alice would love to hear from you at alice@aliceduncan.net. And be sure to visit her website at http://aliceduncan.net/




Doing What I Always Wanted to Do
by Alice Duncan

First of all, the only thing I ever wanted to do in my life was write novels. When I was a little girl and someone would ask me what I wanted to “be” when I grew up, I’d say, “an author.” Mind you, the question itself seems stupid to me now. What a child will be when he or she grows up is an adult human being, a condition that comes with its own limitations. Puppies grow up to be dogs, just like kittens grow up to be cats. Personally, I prefer puppies to kittens and dogs to cats, but that’s bias on my part. Both dogs and cats are easier to get along with than your average adult human being. I think, although I’m not sure, that we’re each born with certain talents. I wish I’d been born with a gift for making money, which sounds a whole lot more useful than being born possessed of a way with words.

Anyhow, it took me a very long time to begin writing books. For one thing I was a single mother to two little girls to support and rear. We never got goodies like child support or alimony, so I supported the kids via my work as a secretary, which I hated very, very, much, thank you. Writing takes lots and lots of time, and I didn’t have any.

However, after my children grew up, I had a little extra time with which to do fun stuff. I took a couple of night classes in creative writing, but I still couldn’t imagine tackling anything as complicated as a book. Not only that, but I couldn’t for the life of me decide what to write, and sustaining 400 manuscript pages about nothing, while it has been done, didn’t appeal to me, literary fiction not being my cup of tea. At any rate, for several years, I expressed my creative side by singing and dancing with several different Eastern European folk-dancing and singing groups (you can see pictures and even hear a couple of songs on my website, on the “Biography” page).




The groups to which I added my modest talents were Avaz, Gypsy and Zhena (the chorus). I’d always secretly harbored a wish to sing grand opera, but female tenors aren’t in great demand in opera. Fortunately for me, they were in demand in Bulgarian choruses; ergo, my stint with Zhena. Anyway, singing and dancing were fun, but neither produced any books. And then my feet went south on me (traumatic arthritic, which has now spread into a sort of universal bodily arthritis), and I had no outlet for my creative side. I took up compulsive baking for a while and then compulsive eating, but that only made me fat.

Oddly enough, it was in October of 1993 when, as my daughter Robin and I were in New Mexico on vacation and were driving to Fort Sumner to see Billy the Kid’s grave, that I wrote a description of the landscape. I wrote it in a little notebook snatched from my purse and hastily stuffed back into it and didn’t tell Robin or anyone else what I’d done, because I didn’t know what to do with it. I did, however, begin writing little blurbs in my notebook from time to time.

Around that time, a friend of mine, Linda Hart, a folk dancing-and-singing buddy, persuaded me to read a modern-day romance novel. I’d always eschewed (geshundheit) romance novels because of the sleazy covers. But I read a couple and discovered that’s what I wanted to write, astonishingly enough. In spite of my overall rough life and a hideous predilection to choose the absolute worst men in the world, I wanted to believe in everlasting romance. Go figure. Anyhow, I started writing books.

After I’d written a couple of more-or-less novels, I took a class called “Writing for Publication,” taught by a wonderful woman named Meredith Brucker, at San Marino High School in San Marino, CA. The class met on Tuesday nights, which were also folk-dance nights, but I attended the class anyway. Meredith taught us exactly how to create and present proposals for novels and send them to agents and editors. So I did. By that time I’d become thoroughly obsessed with writing and selling novels. I was 49 years old, and had all but given up on my life’s dream. Anyway, I went a little wild, became positively single-minded in my pursuit of publication and wrote constantly (when I wasn’t at my cursed day job, and sometimes even then. Don’t tell anybody).

Then I began sending off proposals like a fanatical fiend. I started with agents, some of whom were kind, but none of whom was willing to take a chance on me. I continued to write. I finally penned (or computered) a book I really thought might have a chance. I called it BRIGHT ANGEL. In a frenzy of activity right before Christmas in 1993, I sent off seven proposals to seven different publishers, foregoing the agent thing since agent-seeking didn’t seem to be panning out for me.

On Monday, January 17, 1994, the date of the massive Northridge earthquake, I got a call at work from a woman named Abigail Kamen, who claimed she was an editor and telephoning from Harper Collins. I very nearly fainted, but didn’t, which was a good thing since she went on to ask if my book, BRIGHT ANGEL, was complete. I said (rather breathlessly) that it was. She asked me to send the whole manuscript. I was in a state the likes of which I can’t even describe when that phone call ended.

Almost at once after that, my boss called from Boston and asked about the quake. I said we were having awful aftershocks (true), dust and plaster kept falling from the ceiling (true), and it was scary to be in the building (not quite so true, but I was working on another agenda at the time). So he told me to go home. I did. While there (after discovering that my dog Weenie had eaten an entire box of oatmeal that had fallen from a shelf after the quake. Fortunately, she didn’t burst) I printed out my precious manuscript and sent it off FedEx to Abigail Kamen at Harper Collins. On the Friday of that very same week, January 21, Abigail Kamen called to tell me Harper wanted to publish my book. I was at work and couldn’t scream, but I called everyone I knew and told them I’d succeeded at last in selling a book. The feeling was indescribable, so I won’t try to describe it. Anyhow, it didn’t last.

At that time in what I laughingly call my writing career I belonged to the Orange County Chapter of Romance Writers of America. I’d joined at Meredith Brucker's suggestion and had been attending for a couple of months before my first book sold. This was another fortunate circumstance for me, because RWA/OCC had (still has, actually) a plethora of published writers, most of whom were willing and even eager to help a newbie like me seek representation from a reputable agent. Maureen Child said I should query Linda Kruger, an agent who worked with Evan Fogelman in Dallas, TX, so I did. Linda took me on. By gum, I then not only had a publisher, but I also had an agent! I was on top of the world. That didn’t last, either.

One day shortly thereafter, Abigail Kamen called and told me that I had to change the title of my book. Evidently angels were big at the time in the publishing world, and she didn’t want the buying public to think my romance novel had anything to do with the current angel craze (which, she gave me to understand, included guardian angels, etc.). So I wracked my brain (which hurt) and called my critique partner, Monica Stoner. Monica, not being stifled with my creative block, came up with a dozen or so apt titles, which I dutifully scratched down. Then, right before I sent the list to Abigail, I bethought myself of one of the songs we used to sing during the “American” part of Avaz’s typical performance routine, “I’ll Fly Away.” Oddly enough, Abigail liked ONE BRIGHT MORNING instead of any of Monica’s titles, so my first published opus became ONE BRIGHT MORNING.

By the way, when I told Marilyn Brucker that Harper had bought my book, she was ecstatic. Not only that, she told me I was the best writer she’d ever had in any of her classes. That made me very happy. What made me a little less happy was that she and asked me to read from ONE BRIGHT MORNING at the South Pasadena Public Library. Mind you, I adored libraries and I adored Meredith (still do). But I was a little shy. My shyness abated somewhat, although my bafflement soared, when I read the first sentence of ONE BRIGHT MORNING (“Maggie had the blasphemous thought that God was seriously at fault when He created women”) and the audience laughed. I was flummoxed, since the line wasn’t supposed to be funny.

It didn’t dawn on me until several books after that first one that I couldn’t help myself. Even when I don’t think I’m doing it, I tend to write funny. I figure it’s because I grew up in a very difficult family and resorted to humor to keep myself safe. So sue me.

As all of the above was going on, I kept writing. For my option book to ONE BRIGHT MORNING, I sent Harper (through Linda Kruger, bless her) TEXAS LONESOME, featuring Emily von Plotz, who supported her eccentric aunt and uncle by writing an advice column in a newspaper. Her uncle Ludwig bred dachshunds. His first breeding pair, from which he expected great things, were Hilda and Gustav. By that time I’d joined a critique group, and one of the ladies in it was named Hilda. Hilda objected violently to having a dog named after her, so I changed Hilda’s name to Helga. By the way, Harper published a beefcake calendar the year TEXAS LONESOME was published (1995), and Will Tate, the hero from the book, was Mr. August.

Another thing about TEXAS LONESOME: I was pleased that I got to include in the novel my second passion, dachshunds, for which I’ve harbored an inexplicable fondness ever since I saw my very first one at the age of six or thereabouts. I thought it was the funniest-looking dog I’d ever seen and am in love with the breed to this day. I even belong to New Mexico Dachshund Rescue, which kind of gives me an excuse for accumulating wiener dogs. Fortunately for my home and my sanity, most of the wieners who come to me are foster dogs and are adopted by other people. Eventually. I do, however, have a herd of five dachshunds and a ringer, who I think is sort of a combination miniature pinscher and Chihuahua. I called him a pinchihuahua until I learned that the first part of that name is a very naughty word in Spanish. I still maintain the title fits him, but that’s neither here nor there.

While all of the above was happening, Linda was dutifully sending more work to Harper and, since I was possessed by demons and writing at a blinding clip, other publishers. Then Harper dumped me. I was crushed. Defeated. Heartbroken.

Then, a few months later, Harper dumped almost all their romance writers. Turned out they’d expanded too fast and were cutting back on their romance line. Naturally, they didn’t tell me that, so I thought my being let go was all my fault and that I was a terrible writer (which isn’t true and never has been, by golly). I’ve come to understand that we bottom-feeder authors are seldom told anything even resembling the truth from publishers, but at the time I was totally humiliated.

In the meantime Linda had approached Berkley with SWEET CHARITY, a novel aimed at Berkley’s family-oriented line called “Homespun;” Dorchester (Leisure Books), with a sweet book called CHRISTMAS PIE; and Dell, with CHRISTMAS PIE, a book I had titled PRINCE CHARLEY and my two published books.

Joanna Cagan at Leisure shortly thereafter called Linda and said Leisure wanted to buy CHRISTMAS PIE, which had been plotted at a weekend getaway with my critique group.

Linda then called Laura Cifelli at Dell to tell her about this. Laura asked Linda to wait a minute because at that very moment, she was reading TEXAS LONESOME, loved it, and she told Linda that Dell wanted me but didn’t know which book they wanted yet. However they did want the name Alice Duncan to be associated solely with Dell.

So Linda and I decided I should be Emma Craig (that’s what my maternal grandmother thought her maiden name was. She was wrong, but that’s another story) for Leisure and Alice Duncan for Dell. Linda also told me that Leisure was creating a new line of books called “It’s a Dog’s Life.” Well, that, as they say, was right up my alley, me being a dog person and all. So I began writing ROSAMUNDA’S REVENGE, a historical romance novel featuring Rosamunda, a most superior Yorkshire terrier. I think I like the beginning of ROSAMUNDA’S REVENGE better than most of the openings of my other books (“Rosamunda took one look at the tall man striding across the lobby floor and knew him for a man who favored big dogs. Hunting dogs. Dogs with thick fur and lots of fleas. Dogs with bone heads. Dogs with little brains, big feet, no social graces, huge rumbling barks and bad breath. So she bit him on the ankle. She would have kneecapped him, but she couldn’t reach.”) The book was set in New Mexico Territory in the 1890s, and “to kneecap” didn’t become a legitimate verb until the 1920s, but I figured that if you begin a book in a Yorkshire terrier’s point of view, nothing much matters a whole lot in the way of verisimilitude.

By the way, the “It’s a Dog’s Life” books all had a little ribbon imprinted with the dog’s picture name on the covers of the book. Rosamunda didn’t fit on the ribbon. Leisure asked me to change the name. Instead, I changed a plot point, and they managed to fit the “Rosie,” a nickname Rosamunda detested, on the stupid ribbon. Still, it’s a cute book. I even got a note from the copy editor saying how much she enjoyed it. That doesn’t happen often, believe me.

About that same time, Denise Silvestro at Berkley called Linda and said Berkley wanted SWEET CHARITY for their “Homespun” line. Since I was already Alice Duncan and Emma Craig, I became Rachel Wilson (my mother’s middle and maiden names) for Berkley.

Laura Cifelli at Dell decided to buy PRINCE CHARLEY for Dell, but they changed the name to WILD DREAM (the hero’s name is Charley Wilde). I hated the title, but adored the book’s cover, which (at my suggestion, believe it or not) featured a solitary man, the first solo-male cover Dell had ever done. Naturally, they nixed my suggestion that Charley hold a B-flat cornet, an instrument that is actually a big part of the book’s plot, but still, it’s a great cover.

Dell then decided to buy SECRET HEARTS (which I’d called DIME NOVEL, because the heroine writes dime novels featuring Tuscaloosa Tom Pardee, a fellow patterned after the heroine’s employer’s nephew). There’s a story connected with that cover art as well. The cover of SECRET HEARTS also featured a solo male. However, Tuscaloosa Tom Pardee, the dime-novel hero, had a beautiful droopy mustache. The Powers That Be told me to shave poor Tom since mustaches don’t do well on romance-novel covers. So I did. Both Claire (the dime novelist) and I were terribly disappointed. It’s still a nice cover.

While all the rest of this junk was going on, Leisure asked me to participate in some anthologies, which I did. The stories “Jack of Hearts,” McBroom Sweeps Clean” and “Merry Gentlemen” were published in three different anthologies. If you care enough, you can check them out on my website.

Then Linda sent PHOEBE’S VALENTINE to Dell. The staff at Dell went through many confusions and contortions, causing much here-ing and there-ing for all concerned, and Dell dumped me. Naturally, this gave rise to millions of additional self-doubts, but I had so much work to do by then, this dumping didn’t bother me as much as the first one did. I was, however, beginning to get the notion that the books I wrote didn’t exactly fit into the mainstream of the romance population. It was a discouraging notion, since I wanted my books to be liked by readers as well as editors. Editors seemed like my writing, but once my books hit the shelves, nobody seemed to want to buy them.

By that time I’d nearly finished another book for Berkley’s “Homespun” line when Linda called to tell me that “Homespun” was defunct, and Berkley was beginning a line called “Haunting Hearts.” It had never once crossed my mind to write a paranormal romance. In truth, the idea didn’t appeal to me one little bit, either. However, as I rewatched I Married a Witch, on TV one night, the notion of having a bad guy’s soul enter a good guy’s body via a sip of corn liquor took root, and RESTLESS SPIRITS was born. Here, too, I had nothing to do with the title. I’d called my opus THE SOUL OF CHESTER PEASE, which I think is ever so much more evocative than RESTLESS SPIRITS. Besides, Chester Pease’s soul is the one who caused all the trouble. But I didn’t have any say in the matter. By the way, the poor fellow who swallowed Chester Pease’s soul was named Harry Potter, and my book came out first! Unfortunately, my Harry Potter didn’t create the stir J.K. Rowlings’ Harry Potter did. Story of my life.

However, that’s how I began to write a bunch of books for “Jove Haunting Hearts,” Including the following:

HEAVEN’S PROMISE. This one was set in a reformatted Palmyra, Maine, where my paternal relations came from. There’s a big pointy headstone in the cemetery in Palmyra, under which my paternal grandmother, Afton Homstead (no E after the M) was buried. In order to give the characters a place to sit whilst chatting with the ghost, I flattened the tombstone. By the way, this book was inspired by an old dancing pal of mine. Art Aratin suggested I write a book featuring Danilo the Gypsy King, in honor of our deceased dancing-and-singing colleague Danny Matousek, who was an incredibly talented man. So I did, and this was it. Then came:

BITTERSWEET SUMMER, set in Bittersweet, New York, and SPIRIT OF LOVE, set in New Mexico Territory.

Leisure also decided to buy more of my books. They, too, had a paranormal line, so I wrote a proposal for a series of books featuring a mighty wizard named Alexander McMurdo, who ran a wagon yard in Rio Hondo, New Mexico Territory. Rio Hondo, by the way, was the first name of Roswell, New Mexico, where I now live. Mind you, I’m not terribly in love with Roswell, but my grandparents settled there fifty years before the aliens crashed, so here I am now. These books included:

ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS
A GENTLE MAGIC
A GAMBLER’S MAGIC

Whilst in the throes of writing romances and getting a little jaded therefrom, I decided to try my hand at writing westerns. What the heck, you know? Westerns have a much lower sales rate than romances in general, but my romances seldom broke even anyhow, so I started a couple of westerns, created proposals for them, and Linda, submitted my efforts different publishers. Darned if a Signet editor didn’t ask if I’d be willing to write for their “Trailsman” line. I bought a couple of “Trailsman” books, read them, and figured why not? So I wrote PECOS BELLE BRIGADE and CALIFORNIA CRUSADER. It turned out I didn’t have a handle on the whole male-fantasy thing, which involves women of all ages (but mostly young and ravishing) jumping the bones of our hero Skye Fargo, who has a big beard and wears buckskins (which I figured must have smelled to high heck by the time he got them off). Sigh. At any rate, my western-writing endeavor died an untimely death.

About that time, Berkley decided to bury its “Haunting Hearts” line, and begin an “Irish Eyes” line. You might have noticed that I pretty much stuck close to home in my writing endeavors up to that time. There was a really, really good reason for that. I’m an American and, while I’d love to travel the world one day, I don’t know squat about how life in other countries goes on, except through novels, and I don’t think they’re a good-enough educational source by which to sop up entire cultures. I wracked my brain again (and it hurt again), trying to think of anything I knew about the Irish and Ireland. What I came up with was: potato famine, leprechauns, rampant alcoholism and political upheaval.

Unfortunately, the folks at Berkley didn’t want any of that stuff to show up in the books, so I was stumped. Then I considered sending an American woman to Ireland. I went to the library, checked out every single book I could find about Ireland and wrote, basically, a travelogue. I wasn’t awfully proud of that book, but Berkley bought it anyway. Its title was MY WILD IRISH ROSE and the less said about it, the better.

Leisure, meanwhile, decided they wanted me to write paranormal romances for their fairy-tale line. I again went to the library and this time checked out all sorts of fairy-tale books. I was appalled. Did you know that the Little Mermaid’s boyfriend dies in the story (or maybe it was the Little Mermaid herself who died. I can’t remember)? And that Rapunzel’s lover got his eyes gouged out by thorns? Well . . . suffice it to say I wasn’t enchanted. However, there was one story in which the human beans (as opposed to pintos or limas) seemed to come out on top, and that was the tale of Rumpelstiltskin. So I wrote COOKING UP TROUBLE for Leisure. They gave me a fabulous cover with none other than John Da’Salvo on the it and my name in gilt lettering. I felt good.

And then Berkley told Linda that my books always were in the lowest 34% in sales, and they dumped me. Talk about depressing!

Still, I was under the impression that COOKING UP TROUBLE sold fairly well, so I began to write another book for Leisure, this one called GABRIEL’S FATE. It turned out I was wrong about COOKING UP TROUBLE. Leisure told Linda that my books didn’t sell well enough, and they dumped me. They did publish GABRIEL’S FATE, but they tried to give it the same cover they’d used for A GAMBLER’S MAGIC. I protested. I mean, I understand that publishers recycle covers, but that was too much. So they gave me another recycled cover, but at least it wasn’t one from one of my own books.

Thank God Linda still believed in me! She’d already sent some of my work to Kensington, and Amy Garvey offered to buy a series of books I had all planned out for their “Ballads” line. This first series of proposals centered around the earliest days of the motion-picture industry in Southern California. A fellow named Martin Tafft appears in all four books (but he only gets the girl in the last one). What’s more, since the name Alice Duncan had been floating belly-up in the goldfish bowl of publishing for a couple of years, I got to use my own name for the books. Kensington and I were both happy about this, and the “Dream Maker Series” was born:

COWBOY FOR HIRE
BEAUTY AND THE BRAIN
THE MINER’S DAUGHTER
HER LEADING MAN

That was a lot of writing to do in one year, so for my next “Ballads” series proposal, this one taking place at the 1893 Chicago World’s Columbia Exposition, only contained three books:
COMING UP ROSES, which featured Rose Ellen Gilhooley, bareback rider extraordinaire for Buffalo Bill’s Wild West, who ended up with H.L. May, a newspaper reporter;

JUST NORTH OF BLISS, which featured Rowena Belle Monroe, a refined southern lady flung helter-skelter into the wilds of the evil North, and who ended up in the arms of the fair’s chief photographer, Win Asher; and
A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO, which featured Kate Finney, a girl from the wrong side of Chicago’s tracks. Kate filled in for Little Egypt and worked a fortune-telling venue on the Midway Plaisance. Through no fault of her own, she fell afoul of Alex English, who was one stuffy son of a gun until Kate got through with him.

Along about this time (2002ish), a writer whose books were being published by a print-on-demand publisher called PageFree approached me and asked if I’d be willing to publish a book with PageFree. After looking at the PageFree web site, I told her I’d be darned if I’d pay to have my books published. To me, that seemed the exact wrong way to go about these things. The PageFree publisher then told me she wouldn’t charge for the setting up, so I decide what the heck. Nobody else seemed to want to publisher PHOEBE’S VALENTINE, which is actually one of my favorite books. So I went for it. Now I’m kind of sorry I did, because poor Phoebe probably won’t be picked up by anyone else now that she’s been published once. Not only that, but western historical romances are dead in the water in the romance genre these days. So Phoebe suffered a sad fate, but by this time, one not unexpected by yours truly.

Then it was that I was stricken with the greatest idea of my entire writing life: Daisy Gumm Majesty. Daisy, you see, was born in my own home city of Pasadena, California, and still lived there with her family. The first book was set in 1920. What’s more, Daisy earned her living as a phony spiritualist, because she could make more money doing that than she could doing any of the other work designated for women at the time, and she had to support her war-injured husband Billy. I wanted the books to be historical cozy mysteries. Amy Garvey told Linda that she and Kate Duffy, one of the big muckety-mucks at Kensington, loved the idea for the books but that they’d decided the books didn’t have enough mystery in them. Therefore, they asked me to remove the dead bodies, add a subsidiary romance (because the heroine was already married) and they’d market them as romances. They did, and the books tank. The books were STRONG SPIRITS (I got another complimentary letter from a copy editor for this one) and FINE SPIRITS. As soon as I get my rights back from Kensington, they’re going to be available on Kindle, too, by gum.

Kate Duffy actually called to apologize for the poor marketing of my dearly beloved “Spirits” books. I appreciated her phone call, but was crushed that I wouldn’t be able to write more Daisy books. I’d already begun thinking about a series featuring survivors of the Titanic disaster, which I told Kate about during that telephone call. She was enthusiastic, so I worked up proposals for a series of three books. Since the “Spirits” books bombed, the Powers That Be at Kensington asked me to take a new name. It was thus that Anne Robins (my daughters’ names) was born.

I was in a dreadful funk over the demise of Daisy and had a hard time writing the first Titanic book. Amy Garvey had gone the way of all good editors (she left Kensington and began writing her own books), and I was turned over to Hillary Sares. Hillary was wonderful, and she helped me very much with A PERFECT STRANGER, the first book in the series. After A PERFECT STRANGER the other books come more easily:
A PERFECT ROMANCE (which is my favorite of the series, being in the nature of a romp. Also, the heroine of the piece was rich, a state that was beginning to appeal to me more and more), and

A PERFECT WEDDING

I suggested A PERFECT AFFAIR and A PERFECT DIVORCE, but Hillary didn’t think those would go over too well.

About that time a writing buddy, Mimi Riser, asked if I’d be willing to pen a book or two for a new publisher, New Age Dimensions, which had been established by a friend of hers. Feeling abused and mistreated, I penned another historical cozy mystery (a MYSTERY, darn it!) set in Roswell, New Mexico, in 1923. You can see that I’d somehow managed to get myself stuck in the 1920s. It’s a fascinating era, but I’m not quite sure why I like to stick around in it so much. At any rate, PECOS VALLEY DIAMOND was published by NAD in 2005, and I also wrote its sequel, PECOS VALLEY REVIVAL. These books starred Annabelle Blue, who worked at her family’s mercantile store in Roswell, and featured Phil Gunderson, Annabelle’s erstwhile boyfriend, whom Annabelle dragged along with her into various adventures. Unfortunately for all of us who were connected with NAD, it was financially crushed by Hurricane Wilma in the great hurricane epidemic of 2005. So there I was, stuck with PECOS VALLEY REVIVAL and no place to put it.

Since I was still mourning the loss of Daisy Gumm Majesty and was really sick of writing sex scenes, I started writing LOST AMONG THE ANGELS, yet another historical cozy mystery, this one set in Los Angeles, CA, in 1926. Mercy Allcutt, the heroine of the book, was kind of a consolation prize for me after the death of Daisy. Again, Kensington didn’t think the mystery a big-enough element in the book. They were right, but I was lost again.

And then true tragedy struck when Linda Kruger decided to retire from agenting in order to care for her two-year-old son Tyler. What, I ask you, kind of priority is that???? I was honestly crushed and didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, by that time, I’d begun editing for Tekno Books, which is the book packager that buys and edits books for Five Star, a publisher that primarily targets libraries. Since I figured what the heck (a recurring theme in my life), I asked if I could submit a book to Tekno. I was told I could, but that just because I edited for them didn’t mean I had any special pull and that my books had to be vetted just like anyone else’s. That was okay with me. By that time, I’d decided I didn’t exactly have my finger on the pulse of the public and that it didn’t matter that I have a niftier turn of phrase than, say, Dan Brown. Mind you, I respect and admire Dan Brown, and even sort of liked the Da Vinci Code. The point is that he’s rich and I’m not, so that tells you how much writing skills mean in the overall scheme of things.

Luckily for me, the other Tekno editors, those who read my manuscripts, seem so far to have liked them, because Five Star has published:

LOST AMONG THE ANGELS,
CACTUS FLOWER,
SIERRA RANSOM, and
ANGEL’S FLIGHT (sequel to LOST AMONG THE ANGELS)















And then—glory hallelujah!—Five Star bought the third book in my Daisy Gumm Majesty series, HIGH SPIRITS. Not only that, but they recently bought the fourth book in the series, HUNGRY SPIRITS. I’m hoping like mad that they’ll also buy the Daisy book I’m working on right now, GENTEEL SPIRITS.

And then, on a whim, I sent Tekno PECOS VALLEY REVIVAL, the sole survivor of my New Age Dimensions days, and Five Star decided to buy it! Therefore, PECOS VALLEY REVIVAL will be published some time in 2011. Since the book is set in Roswell, New Mexico, which pretty much looked in 1923 exactly as it looked in 1883, the twenties didn’t do a whole lot of roaring there, but Roswell’s citizens did their best. I don’t know if I’ll write any further PECOS VALLEY books. I’m getting old and tired, and writing really doesn’t pay for itself. The only good thing so far about what I laughingly call my writing career is that I can now supplement my social security income via my editing work for Tekno, which pays ever so much better than writing ever did.

I do, however, hope that Five Star will buy FALLEN ANGELS, the third in my Mercy Allcutt books, and ANCIENT SPIRITS, which should be the end of the Daisy Gumm Majesty books for a reason that will become abundantly clear if the book is ever published. I have planned a fourth Mercy book, ANGELS OF MERCY, but we’ll just have to see about that.

And there you have the essence of my writing career and why, even though I’ve published forty-five novels and three novellas under five different names, none of which anyone’s ever heard of, I remain dirt poor to this day.

Honest to God, I think writing is a genetic glitch. Perhaps doctors will find a cure for it someday.

Alice Duncan (alice@aliceduncan.net)
http://www.aliceduncan.net
Angel's Flight 07/09
Hungry Spirits 06/10

Saturday Meanderings

Canasta

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Canasta (Spanish for "basket"; pronounced /kəˈnæstə/ in English) is a card game originating in Uruguay, where players attempt to make melds of 7 cards of the same rank, and "go out" by playing all cards in their hand and discarding. It is commonly played by two players with two standard decks of cards, but many variations exist for 3- and 4-player games or teams.

The understatement here is " . . . many variations exist . . ."
Pfft! I'll say!

But. Tonight is Saturday Nite Canasta Nite for me and Donald and Mother (and Harley, of course), and we'll play the only variation we've ever played. We get together every two or three weeks at my mom's for Canasta Nite. Sometimes it includes dinner, sometimes snackies, sometimes dessert. Just depends on what the mood of the group seems to dictate. And since we're all grown-ups (except Harley), if we want to have dessert and then have dinner later - well, that's exactly what we do. That's part of the fun of being a grown-up; rearranging silly rules like dessert coming after dinner. Who says?! harumph.

Tonight it includes pizza. oh boy.

I haven't had pizza in a month. Unusual for me 'cause I am admittedly addicted to pizza. But I'm also in the process of trying to lose 10 pounds. As of this morning, after 4 weeks of pretty steady dieting, I've lost 5 and 1/2 pounds. It's not as easy as it was when I was younger and could drop a few pounds with less effort. Now it takes a lot of effort. And one of the things that works for keeping me on a diet is to celebrate small accomplishments. I'm not sure diet gurus would recommend pizza as a smart reward, but oh well. Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we go back to the business of losing a few pounds. It's important to me to keep within a weight range in which I'm comfortable in the clothes I have. I like my clothes. AND, I for sure can't afford to buy a whole bunch of new ones if I gain a bunch of weight. That's my motivating factor. When my clothes quit feeling comfortable, time to cut back.

But,

I meander.

I do not want to chat about my weight.

I want to chat about Canasta.

Any of you play? Or did you use to play? I know it used to be a very popular game, but then seemed to have kinda become old hat. I'm hearing a few people mention it recently though, so perhaps it's making a bit of a comeback. Donald and Mother and I have played for many years. And laugh hysterically through it all. It's an evening we all enjoy at many levels. And it's an opportunity for Mother to pet, pamper and spoil Harley, and an opportunity for Harley to jump all over, kiss & lick and otherwise let Mother know he loves her without bounds.

We use a Canasta tray that I remember Mother and Dad using when they would play with friends. We used this same tray when I began playing with them as a young girl. The Canasta tray is plastic, with a basket weave design on the top. Inside the top is an etched caricature of Xavier Cugat and his little doggie Pepito. Remember Xavier? Mostly, I think he's now remembered for being married to entertainer and popular talk show visitor Charo, known for her "coochy coochy coo" with a wiggle and a shake thrown in for good measure. AND - the woman is still performing! Anyway. Xavier Cugat, in addition to being a popular dance band leader, was also recognized as the person responsible for introducing the game of Canasta to the United States. When the Canasta craze was at its peak, Xavier and Pepito endorsed cards, trays, and any other number of related items. How our card tray has survived and stayed with us all these years is amazing to me. and fun. We also, because shuffling two decks of cards is awkward, use an old metal hand crank shuffler. Well, O.K. - I admit it - we use it 'cause it's just fun. We like it. Harley hates it though and barks like a crazy dog while it's being used.













So - off we go to Mother's. Y'all just sit back and enjoy this old video of Charo and Carol Burnett. Priceless.