Surrounded by Beautiful Women by Earl Staggs

Derringer Award winning author Earl Staggs has seen many of his short stories published in magazines and anthologies. He served as Managing Editor of Futures Mystery Magazine and as President of the Short Mystery Fiction Society. His novel MEMORY OF A MURDER earned thirteen Five Star reviews online at Amazon and B&N. His column “Write Tight” appears in Apollo’s Lyre. He is also a contributing member of Murderous Musings and Make mine Mystery. He hosts workshops for the Muse Online Writers Conference and The Catholic Writers’ Conference Online and is a frequent speaker at writers’ gathering.  Visit his Homesite at: earlwstaggs.wordpress.com
 
 

Surrounded by Beautiful Women
by Earl Staggs

It all started when I married Carol, a beautiful girl. We had two daughters, also beautiful.  Before long, we had a family dog, also a female and beautiful for a dog.

So there I was, surrounded by beautiful women.
 

The dog passed on to the big kennel in the sky years ago, and our daughters are grown to full adulthood and off living their own lives with their own families.  Cindi, our youngest, lives in Houston, about four hours away, and Chris, older by five years, lives in New Jersey, about a million miles away from us. Very rarely do we get to spend time with the two of them at once, but they’re both here in Fort Worth now for a visit, just them, without their husbands and our grandkids.  It’s only the four of us, as it was all those years ago when they were growing up.

So here I am once again, surrounded by beautiful women.  And loving it.
 

We raised our girls in Maryland and experienced everything parents can go through.  We sold a lot of Girl Scout cookies through those years. Naturally, we bought as many as we sold.  If you have daughters, I know you can relate.   Girl Scouts also go on camping trips. Carol and I found it hard to sleep knowing they were out there in the woods where bears, snakes, wolves, poison ivy and who knows what else lurked.
 

All little girls have to go to dance classes, of course, and parents have to take them there, sit and wait, and bring them home.  That was boring, so Carol and I came up with the crazy idea of joining the class.  We did and learned enough tap to take part in the recitals. Yes, we actually did, and it was fun.

Then came sports.  For Chris, it was volleyball and cheerleading.  For cheerleading, she had to learn to throw a backflip.  We dragged a mattress into the back yard, rigged a harness with rope, and spent hours practicing that stupid backflip.  She fell a lot, but that’s why the mattress was there.
 

Cindi chose softball, which meant I had to pitch the ball to her so she could practice her batting swing.   I’d pitch, she’d hit, and I’d have to chase down the ball.  The better she got with the bat, the farther she hit the ball, and the farther I’d have to go to retrieve it.  I spent more time searching for the ball than she did hitting it.  Back to the drawing board. I drilled a hole in the ball, ran a long cord through it, and tied the other end of the cord to a cinder block.  I’d pitch, she’d hit, the ball would only travel the length of the cord, then I only had to pick up the cord and pull the ball back.  Much easier on me, and she became a darn good hitter.

We taught them to ride bikes and, later, to drive cars.  Those tasks were easy compared to the most daunting and fearful challenge.  We’d worried about bears and snakes on those Girl Scout camping trips. This was worse.  Now we had to worry about the worst danger of all.  Boys.  OMG!  The worst nightmare of parents of girls.  There were no nice boys.  They were all evil predators intent of leading our babies astray.  If you’ve raised daughters, you can relate to that, too, I’m sure.
 

Now with the two of them visiting us, we sit around recalling stories from those days.  One of their favorite stories is the one about the pancakes.  We were watching TV at the time.  I carried my plate into the kitchen and with my attention on whatever we were watching, reached for the syrup. I picked up the bottle, opened it, poured a liberal amount on my pancakes, and took a bite.  Thought I would die! I’d picked up the bottle of dishwashing liquid instead of syrup.  They love to drag out that story. Even I can laugh about it now.
 

We loved amusement parks and did Disney World, Six Flags, Hershey Park and more.   I’ll never forget Cindi’s first roller coaster ride. It was Hershey Park’s newest ride, a big one that went very fast and rolled you upside down a few times.  She was only four, scared to death, and I had to coax her to go on it with me.  While we waited in line, she watched wide-eyed and open-mouthed, not saying a word, as the monster ride sped past overhead with people screaming upside down.  I knew she wanted to run into mom’s arms and not get on the ride.  She hung in there, though, and the first thing she said when it was over was, “Can we go again?”
 

We have grandchildren now.  Chris presented us with two granddaughters and, yes, they are beautiful.  Cindi added two handsome young men to our family.  Now, our daughters are going through many of the same experiences Carol and I did.  I smile to myself and think, “Welcome to parenthood.”
 

I have pictures, of course, hundreds of pictures.  Come by sometime, and I’ll bring them out and show you what life was like for a man surrounded by beautiful women.  I know you’ll agree I’m a lucky man.

The four of us, back in the day. Carol and the girls are still beautiful. I’ve aged a tad. (And lost the mustache)

Waiting on Life's Answers by Coco Ihle

First, let me thank our lovely Kaye for asking me to join you all today. Kaye, you’re a doll.

Like a cat, I believe I’m probably in life number seven. I started out as an orphan, was an USAF officer’s wife for twenty plus years during which I became a mom, had a career as a professional Middle Eastern belly dancer for another twenty years, was a staff writer for an international dance magazine for ten years, got certified in interior decorating, won some awards for my sculpture designs in leather, was a bagpiper in the St. Andrew’s Pipe Band of Montgomery, Alabama, had a short memoir published in 2009, and now my first mystery book, SHE HAD TO KNOW will be released in April. My website is  http://cocoihle.com and my book will be available as an e-book, as well.

 

Waiting on Life's Answers 

by Coco Ihle
 

When you first got the idea for a book, did you realize you couldn’t write it until life gave you more answers?  That was my dilemma.

Having been a product of foster care and adoption, my dream was to find my birth family and write a book involving my search. The problem was, it took years to gather little bits of information that were wedged sparingly against the brick walls I ran into and then put them together like a jigsaw puzzle.
 

My adoptive parents were secretive and my adoption files were sealed, so little information was available until I was “of age.” One day, however, I learned my birth name when my adopted mother had a slip-of-the-tongue. I was successful in finding out some general facts since I’d had the instinct as a toddler to stay in touch with the lady in charge of my placement in the various foster homes in which I resided. She told me I had two sisters and gave me their birth dates, but no names or other details. The laws of the state in which I grew up forbade any disclosure beyond general facts. I was also aware my adoptive parents were sensitive about not being able to have children of their own and I didn’t want to hurt them with my inquiries.

When my adoptive parents died, my adoption documents were in their safe-deposit box. At the age of thirty-six I learned my birth parents’ names and of my first-generation Scots-American heritage.
 

I wrote letters, made phone calls and hired professionals to help me and even became aware there were scam artists in the world. This renewed search triggered emotions of hope, enthusiasm, exhilaration, disappointment, even—devastation, but giving up was not an option.
 

More than fifty years went by from the start of my search. Thanks to the ALMA Society, a computer -based nonprofit organization that helps connect families affected by adoption, I found one sister and my book began forming in my mind. I wanted to know more about her; what was important to her, what touched her, how she dealt with the same things I had dealt with.
 

This information found its way into my book, but since so much of it was sad, I found it difficult to write about and didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for us.  After all, we had survived better than some children. So, I found myself reticent when it came time for the sisters to meet in the book, and I left out much of what we faced. It may appear in future books as the sisters learn more about each other, but their relationship is still new in SHE HAD TO KNOW and I preferred to emphasize their joy.
 

I must be clear my book is fiction, not a memoir. Although there are autobiographical elements in it, I have created a murder mystery out of my rather overactive imagination that sprung from the fantasies of my childhood. In SHE HAD TO KNOW, Arran Hart and her sister Sheena Buchanan nearly lose their lives searching for a treasure and a murderer in a Scottish castle. I hope you enjoy it.

What life issues did you have to experience before you could write your book?

Interesting Times by Reed Farrel Coleman

Called a hard-boiled poet by NPR’s Maureen Corrigan and the noir poet laureate in the Huffington Post, Reed Farrel Coleman has published thirteen novels, including six in his Moe Prager series, and Tower, a stand-alone co-written with Ken Bruen. He has won the Shamus Award three times for Best PI Novel of the Year. He’s also won the Macavity, Barry, and Anthony Awards as well as being twice nominated for the Edgar. Reed was the editor of the Hard Boiled Brooklyn anthology and is a co-editor of The Lineup, a journal featuring poems on crime. His short stories appear in Wall Street Noir, The Darker Mask, and several other anthologies. Reed is an adjunct professor at Hofstra University. He lives on Long Island.

Interesting Times

by Reed Farrel Coleman 

There’s an old Chinese proverb about living in interesting times. Of course the deeper meaning is that all times are interesting times. You’ll note that this old Chinese proverb is about interesting times, not necessarily good times.

Right now, for instance, the publishing world is experiencing the greatest upheaval since this German guy invented his printing press. These are hard times for authors like me, but it can’t be argued they aren’t interesting times. There has been a decline in readership. Bookstores, large and small, are closing nearly every day. The number of traditional publishers is dwindling. Budgets are shrinking. Publisher-financed tours, except for those authors at the top of the heap, are a thing of the past. And the burden of getting reviews and publicity for new releases is increasingly falling to the author him or herself. As recently as a year ago, I was unwilling or unable to see that ebooks and dedicated audio books were a real threat to traditional publishing or, more accurately, I was convinced that it would be many years until they were a threat. This is no longer the case. The revolution is here and I would be foolish to ignore it or deny it.

Only a few weeks ago I had a long conversation with a best-selling author with whom I served on the national board of Mystery Writers of America. I asked if this author could envision a day in the not-too-distant future when he or she, either alone or with a group of like-minded authors, might forsake traditional publishing by hiring a freelance editor, a copyeditor, and PR firm and self-publish. The answer was yes, that if he or she had a mind to, it could be done now. That was all I needed to hear to be convinced that the revolution was here, is here.

This will have an effect on everyone involved in the circuit, from the reader—even the most steadfast, book-carrying traditionalist—to the author, the agent, the publisher, and the bookstore owner. I’m sure readers don’t devote much time to thinking about the process—no one likes watching the sausage being made—but readers have to understand that one of the fundamental advantages traditional publishers enjoy is an established distribution network. So, yes, beyond the advance, editorial services, and publicity staff, it is access to that distribution network that an author gains when signing with a publisher. The old railroads were important businesses not because they had engines and cars, but rather because they owned the tracks. In much the same way that airlines and automobiles nullified this advantage, ebooks don’t need tracks. 

Yes, these are interesting times in publishing and they are bound to get even more interesting in the very near future.

Things I Know About My Writing Process by Elizabeth Spann Craig

Elizabeth writes the Memphis Barbeque series for Penguin/Berkley (as Riley Adams), the Southern Quilting mysteries (2012) for Penguin/NAL, and the Myrtle Clover series for Midnight Ink. She blogs daily at Mystery Writing is Murder, which was named by Writer’s Digest as one of the 101 Best Websites for Writers in 2010.  Her next release is in June--Finger Lickin' Dead, part of the Memphis BBQ series.

 As the mother of two, Elizabeth writes on the run as she juggles duties as Girl Scout leader, referees play dates, drives carpools, and is dragged along as a hostage/chaperone on field trips.

Elizabeth Spann Craig (Riley Adams)
http://mysteryloverskitchen.com
Twitter: @elizabethscraig

 

Things I Know About My Writing Process

by  Elizabeth Spann Craig

As hard as it is for me to believe, I’m about to start working on my eighth manuscript.  I used to be a lot shakier when I started out on a project—it was almost like I was trying to remember how to do it all again.

I guess writing is one of those things that gets easier as you go. Well….no, I’ll take that back. But I do think the writing process is something that gets easier, simply because you have a better understanding of what will happen as you write.  The process is completely individual to each writer, of course.  This is what I know about mine:

Before I start, I’ll make a Word folder labeled with the working title of the WIP.  I’ll also go ahead and make several files to go in that main folder:  one will be “characters,” one will be “random ideas,” one will be “brainstorming,” and one will be the actual first draft.

I’ll start out with my characters.  Actually, I’ll start out with my victim, to be exact.  This victim will be an amalgam of various unpleasant types that I’ve had personal contact with or seen on the television news shows. J

I’ll think of all the possible reasons why someone would want to kill someone like my victim.  This gets me started with my suspects.

I’ll come up with a list of traits for my protagonist.  I’ll also come up with ways I want the character to grow.

I’ll start writing and will write half a chapter a day, if possible, and I’ll work straight through the manuscript (leaving out descriptions, settings, and subplots)…unless I get stuck.

If I do get stuck or don’t feel like writing a particular scene, I’ll skip ahead to a different part of the book and write it, instead.

I’ll add the character descriptions, setting details, and subplots after the first draft is finished.  

I’ll frequently talk to myself as I write.  If I’m in public at the time, people will stare. J  If I’m at home, my corgi, Chloe, will look concerned. 

I’ll reach a point in my first draft where I feel absolutely ecstatic about my story, characters, and subplots.

I’ll reach a point in my first draft where I consider starting over with a different idea. 

At some point in my first draft, I’ll be surprised by where I am in the story—either that I have fewer words or more.

I’ll read a book while I’m writing my book and wistfully think that I’ll never write that well.

I’ll choose a different book to read while writing my book and feel confident that I could have written it better.

When I get really into the writing groove, one of my cats (Mr. Smoke by name), will inexplicably choose to walk over my laptop keyboard.  He will only do this when he observes me in the writing zone.

I won’t want to stop messing with my manuscript and will continue tweaking it right up to deadline.  My misguided sense of perfectionism will put me on top of a deadline every time.

I’ll feel an intense feeling of satisfaction and joy in both the writing process and then in seeing the finished product. 

How about you?  What have you learned about yourself and your writing process?

The Ten Commandments Need to be Updated by J. Michael Orenduff

       On the day Mike Orenduff got his drivers license, his father gave him a 1950 Oldsmobile coupe that stranded him in so many New Mexico towns that he got to know every mechanic south of Truth or Consequences. By the time he entered graduate school at the University of New Mexico, he and his wife Lai were driving a more reliable car - a 1965 Volkswagen Beetle - and they drove the wheels off it exploring the northern half of the state. His love of The Land of Enchantment is evident in his Pot Thief mysteries which have won The New Mexico Book of the Year Award, the national 'Eppie' award for best mystery, The Dark Oak Mystery Award, Fiction Book of the Year from PoliceWriter, and now a spot as a finalist for the prestigious “Lefty” Award.

          Mike and Lai live in Georgia where she is a professor of art history at Valdosta State University. Their son Jay is a dean at Columbia University and their daughter teaches art history at Georgia College.

The Pot Thief Who Studied Einstein has been nominated for the "Lefty".  This prestigious national award will be given to one of the five finalists at the Left Coast Crime Conference in Santa Fe in March.

The Ten Commandments need to be updated

by Mike Orenduff

              

                I don’t intend irreverence.  I’m not proposing that we change what God has wrought; that’s not even possible.  What needs changing is the wording.  Writers don’t like to hear this, especially one who created the universe, but we all need editing help from time to time.

                The original phrasings were no doubt appropriate for nomads roaming the desert three thousand years ago, but they are hopelessly out of date for today’s world.  After all, coveting our neighbor’s ass is no longer a major moral issue.  Assuming we mean his donkey.  Coveting his actual derrière could be an issue. 

 

                Few of us these days covet our neighbor’s manservant either, and even if your neighbor can afford domestic employees, you shouldn’t call them servants.

                My interest in this topic began in 2001 when I read about a former kick-boxer who commissioned a sculptor named R.C. Hahnemann to construct a monument to the Commandments.  The kick-boxer, whose colorful background included working as a cowboy on a ranch in the Australian outback, evidently did the design work himself.

 

                Weighing in at over five thousand pounds, the blocky structure has all the grace of a concrete bunker.  It looks like a headstone for a hippo.  It’s not only an offense against good taste, it violates at least two of the very commandments it seeks to honor! 

 

                First, it is arguably a graven image.  Why would you need two-and-a-half tons of granite when God put the originals on two carryout sized tablets that Moses could take down the mountain with him?

 

                In addition to breaking the second commandment (Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol), the monument also violates number eight (Thou shalt not steal) because the kick-boxer turned designer actually tried to copyright the Word of God!  I guess if you’re going to plagiarize, God is right up there with Shakespeare as a good source.

                I would have written this story off as just one more example of people’s penchant for wacky behavior except for the fact that the kick-boxer/cowboy was Roy Moore, the Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court.  This did not do much for Alabama’s already dodgy reputation.

                The Judge of the State Supreme Court commissioned this monolith without the knowledge of the other eight Associate Justices and then snuck it into the Supreme Court in the middle of the night when the building was closed.  I am not making this up.  On the night of July 31, 2001, the Judge and some helpers transported the colossal cenotaph under cover of darkness and installed it in the Rotunda.  But only after overcoming “some initial installation difficulties and concerns regarding structural support for the monument's weight.” One can only imagine.

                Moore had the installation filmed, and videotapes of the event were sold by Coral Ridge Ministries, which used the revenue to pay Moore's legal expenses after he was booted from the bench. 

                When I first heard about Judge Moore’s monument, I put it down as just another example of an overzealous fundamentalist going off his medications.  But shortly thereafter, yard-signs of the Ten Commandments started popping up in my neighborhood like toadstools after a rainy night in Georgia.  I teach in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Valdosta State University.  Georgia may not be the buckle on the Bible belt, but it’s at least one of the loops, so I was not surprised that Roy Moore ascended to the status of folk-hero for the religious right.  After all, Tim Golden, my local state legislator, introduced a bill that would allow bible study to be part of the public school curriculum in Georgia.  Like many simple-minded folk with simple-minded ideas, it evidently never occurred to Golden to ask which Bible the students would read.  Most people know there is a King James Version and a Revised Standard Version and a few others, but there are actually over 700 other versions, from the Vulgate, commissioned in 382, to the Good News Bible, published in 1976.  And the listings of the Ten Commandments are not the same in all those versions. 

                An even stickier issue than which Christian Bible to read is what to do about all the other holy books.  In contemporary diverse America, we have communities where the majority of schoolchildren are Moslem.  Should those schools be reading the Koran in class?  And what do you imagine the Georgia Legislature would say when they found out that little Baptists and Presbyterians were reading the Koran in school?

 

                The Roy Moore story made me wonder why having the Ten Commandments in a courtroom was so important that it would drive a Chief Justice to disbarment and spur others staunchly to defend the Judge’s behavior in defying the law of the land that he had sworn to uphold.  After all, no one was being denied the right to study and follow the Ten Commandments.  There are, by actual count, 530 churches in Montgomery, Alabama, site of the Alabama Supreme Court.  Presumable, they all have Bibles and study the Ten Commandments.  It’s difficult to believe that having the Ten Commandments chiseled in granite is more important than having them present in that less weighty substance known as the human conscience.  So I decided to ask my students, a cross section of the young people of South Georgia, what they knew about the Ten Commandments.

                The results were surprising.  At the beginning of class one day, I asked the students to take out a clean sheet of paper and write down the Ten Commandments.  I explained that I wanted them to try as hard as they could to remember all ten, and I gave them as much time as they needed.  That night I tallied the results.

                Before you read any further, I urge you to do what my students did.  See if you can write down all Ten Commandments.  Then compare your results with those of my students.

                Of my thirty-one students, only two remembered all ten of the commandments.  Two!  That’s less than ten percent.  Two students could list only four.  The average was 6.3.  The only commandment that everyone remembered was “Thou shalt not kill.”

 

                Here are the commandments in order of the frequency with which the students remembered them:

Thou shalt not kill. (31)

Thou shalt not steal. (28)
Thou shalt not commit adultery. (25)

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. (22)

Honour thy father and thy mother. (21)

Thou shalt not covet. (20)

Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. (15)

Thou shalt have no other gods before me. (14)

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. (14)

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. (11)

                It seems honoring the Sabbath has pretty much gone the way of the horse and buggy.

                In addition to errors of omission, my students also made errors of commission – they listed things that are not among the Ten Commandments.  The most frequent one was “Love they neighbor as thyself,” which six students added to the Decalogue.  Other mistaken additions ran from the ever-popular “Judge not” to “Avoid gluttony.” One student added, “Do not cut people off in traffic,” but I chalked that up to the fact that he was a sophomore and belonged to a fraternity.

                Roy Moore would probably think my students’ imperfect knowledge of the Ten Commandments demonstrates the need for his monument.  I have a different view.

                I love today’s young people; they are honest, open, and possess a strong sense of fairness and compassion.  What they lack is enthusiasm for anything that seems old and out of date.  Growing up in today’s world, young people have a deep and abiding commitment to contemporary notions such as the right to privacy and protecting the environment, two things that don’t even rate a mention in the Ten Commandments.  On the other hand, the idea of a graven image never enters their consciousness. 

 

                I can just imagine the bible thumpers and snake handlers proclaiming that if it was good enough for Moses and his people, it should be good enough for us.  But the people who might say this don’t talk or dress like the ancient Israelites.  They don’t sacrifice animals, anoint each other with myrrh, or smote their enemies.  Or is that “smite” their enemies? I’m not sure how to conjugate that verb.

                Yes, right and wrong have not changed.  But our understanding of what is right and wrong has been shaped by forces that Moses and his people could not even have imagined - Greek civilization, the Roman Empire, The voyages of Columbus and Magellan, colonialism, the rise of empirical science, the industrial revolution, splitting the atom, putting a man on the moon, the computer, decoding the human genome. Must right and wrong be forever clothed in the words and customs of the distant past?

Good News - Yay!

In September 2009 I was doing happy dances all over Meanderings and Muses because an essay I had written was accepted for publication in the wonderful anthology "Clothes Lines."

Well - Guess What - I'm doing more happy dances - Yay!!!!!

Celia Miles and Nancy Dillingham are doing another regional anthology.  Sadly, they say this is their last one.  (Personally - I hope that's not so).

These women, wonderful writers in addition to being excellent editors, have done some pretty amazing things - not least of which includes their efforts in nurturing women writers.  I, for one, seriously doubt that my work would have seen the light of day without Nan and Celia.  They hold a special place in my heart.  More than they know.

But I'm going to save the mushy stuff for another day, another blog.

You'll hear more about Celia Miles and Nancy Dillingham.  I'm hoping to convince them to allow me to profile them here.

Today I'm doing happy dances again because I'm one of the lucky women who will be contributing to this newest anthology.

WOMEN'S SPACES/WOMEN'S PLACES

It's to be a collection of stories, reflections, memoirs, poetry –all having to do with women's spaces and places.

This is from the submission invitation:

"Where do you, have you, wish you could… find yourself most comfortable, at home,  free to be, free to think, reflect, escape, rejoice, renew? An apple tree when you were seven? Your therapist’s couch? Your dreams of dancing on a faraway beach? Actually dancing on a faraway beach? Your kitchen with your arms in dishwater?


You can deal with inner space, outer space, filled space, empty space; with the psychology of space; with places you’ve been that have special significance for you--whether spiritual, sensual, artistic or intellectual."

I am over the moon happy about this news, and quite honored.  So - join me in a happy dance, won't you?!

Save The Libraries

"We need to shift our national view of libraries not as luxuries, but as necessities. When tragedy strikes in other nations, Americans are generous, but our libraries are being hit with a tsunami and there has been no call to action."

- Karin Slaughter, Author

From the "Save The Libraries" webpage:

"The idea for Save The Libraries came during a meeting of the American Library Association. Karin Slaughter, long a library advocate, spoke to librarians from around the country and realized very quickly that public libraries were in desperate need of help.

Karin wrote an op-ed piece which ran in the ran in the Atlanta Journal Constitution on Sept. 10, 2010. The article ran with the headline "Fight for libraries as you do freedom." Read it here, here, or here.

In researching this article, she found the statistics startling -- 80% of children in rural areas use their local libraries as their only access to the internet and books. Staff is being laid off. Buildings are being closed. Libraries are built, books are purchased, but there's no funding to open or operate the facilities. 

To help spread the word about the needs for community support for public libraries, Karin has spearheaded SaveTheLibraries.com, with a pilot event to benefit the DeKalb County (GA) Public Library system. This initial event serves as pilot program during which we are documenting steps of the process in order to make it repeatable at other libraries with minimal amount of staff planning time and administrative investment. 

Proceeds will go directly to the libraries.

A second event is being planned to benefit the Boston Public Library system. The event is tentatively being planned for June 2011.

Links of Interest

• Authors for Libraries
• Georgia Public Library Service
• Georgia Center for the Book
• American Library Association
• Rural Library Project
• Library Journal

Help support Save The Libraries by bidding on one of our 50+ online auction items. From naming a character after yourself in upcoming book by bestselling authors, to autographed books, to one-on-one access with leading publishing insiders -- there's something for everyone's budget! International bids welcome!"

An Interview with Mandy Tanner by Beth Groundwater

Beth Groundwater writes the Claire Hanover gift basket designer mystery series (A Real Basket Case, a 2007 Best First Novel Agatha Award finalist, and To Hell in a Handbasket, 2009) and the Rocky Mountain Outdoor Adventures mystery series starring whitewater river ranger Mandy Tanner. The first, Deadly Currents, will be released March 8th. Beth lives in Colorado and enjoys its many outdoor activities, including skiing, hiking, and whitewater rafting. She loves talking to book clubs, too, and not just for the gossip and wine! Please visit her website at bethgroundwater.com and her blog at bethgroundwater.blogspot.com.

The Arkansas River, heart and soul of Salida, Colorado, fuels the small town’s economy and thrums in the blood of river ranger Mandy Tanner. When a whitewater rafting accident occurs, she deftly executes a rescue, but a man dies anyway. Turns out, it wasn’t the rapids that killed him—it was murder. Tom King was a rich land developer with bitter business rivals, who cheated on his wife, refused to support his kayak-obsessed son, and infuriated environmentalists. Mandy’s world is upended again when tragedy strikes closer to home. Suspicious that the most recent death is connected to Tom King’s murder, she goes on an emotionally turbulent quest for the truth—and ends up in dangerous waters.

An Interview with Mandy Tanner

Mandy Tanner is the 27-year-old whitewater river ranger protagonist of Deadly Currents, the first book in Beth Groundwater’s RM Outdoor Adventures mystery series. She’s agreed to be interviewed today, and to answer questions from Meanderings and Musings readers, but she’s a little nervous because she doesn’t have much media experience. Let’s make her feel welcome!

1. Hello, Mandy. Please tell us how you ended up becoming a whitewater river ranger.

Well, first, I fell in love with whitewater rafting. When I lived with my parents in Colorado Springs, they used to drive my brother, David, and me to Salida on summer weekends. We’d sack out at my Uncle Bill’s house and take rafting trips down the Arkansas River from his outfitter company. Riding the waves was such a blast that I couldn’t wait to start working as a rafting guide myself. After I started high school, I spent the summers with Uncle Bill and worked for him, doing odd jobs and soaking up as much knowledge as I could from the guides. I thought they were the coolest dudes around, and I wanted to be one of them!

Then my parents died in a car crash two months before I started my senior year in high school, when I was still 17. David was going into his junior year of college and couldn’t really be my guardian. Since I was already living with Uncle Bill that summer, I just stayed and finished high school in Salida. And he helped me get through the grieving. Then I started guiding for Uncle Bill’s company and taking classes for my associate's degree in Outdoor Education at Colorado Mountain College in Buena Vista. During the winters, I’m a ski patroller at Monarch Mountain.

I loved being a rafting guide, working outside every day and getting uptight city tourists to whoop it up by taking them for roller coaster rides on roaring rapids (like the one in the photo below). And doing goofball things to make them laugh, like starting water fights with the other rafts or having a dumbest joke competition on the slow sections. I needed to get out on my own, though. A few years ago, I moved into a cute little rental house, but the money I made guiding in the summer and patrolling in the winter wasn’t enough to pay the bills. And, I was itching to prove myself, to tackle some challenge that Uncle Bill didn’t already know everything about. So, I applied to be a seasonal river ranger.

2. This is your first season working as a whitewater river ranger. What do you think of it so far?

All the training was pretty easy for me, since I already knew a lot of that stuff from being a river guide. And I know every section of the river like the back of my hand, from running them so many times at different water levels. The rest of the rangers are a cool bunch, and my boss, Steve Hadley, is great to work for and really supportive. I think he’s a lot like Stew Pappenfort, the Senior Ranger of the AHRA (Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area), who Beth Groundwater used as an expert when she wrote my story. A picture of Stew giving some training is below.

The only thing I don’t like is the paperwork, but none of the rangers like that! Even though I enjoy the work and the people, I’m still nervous about taking on all that new responsibility. I’d only been a ranger for a couple of weeks when I had to rescue Hannah Fowler and Tom King. My heart was like, doing a drum solo in my chest.

Then Mister King died on me.

3. How do you feel about that?

Majorly bummed. Even though people keep telling me his death wasn’t my fault, I still keep thinking that if I’d done something different, he might still be alive. And I feel guilty about the effect on Uncle Bill’s business. See, Hannah and Mister King were riding in one of Uncle Bill’s rafts when it flipped in the Numbers Four rapid. I still don’t understand how Gonzo let that happen. He’s one of Uncle Bill’s best guides, and he knows the Numbers like an old milk cow knows the path to the barn. But anyway, word got out, and customers are canceling their trips with Uncle Bill, thinking Tom King’s death is his fault. But it’s not.

If anything, it’s mine.

4. You mentioned your parents are no longer living. Who are the important people in your life now?

Of course there’s Uncle Bill, and my brother, David. He works as an accountant in Colorado Springs, but we still try to see each other fairly often. Then there’s my boyfriend Rob Juarez. He’s got his own outfitting company, and he’s a real hunk. Man, does he fill out a pair of jeans, and I love it when he makes the standing waves tattooed on his biceps dance. The only problem is that we’ve only been dating for three months, and he already wants to take care of me. But I don’t want that, I like taking care of myself.

I’ve got a lot of friends here, too, “river rats” like myself, who are guides or rangers. And my best friend, Cynthia Abbott, is a bartender at the Victoria Tavern, where we all like to hang out, drink a few beers, dance to rock and country bands, and play pool.

5. When you’re not working, what do you like to do?

I already told you about hanging out at the Vic. I like to go for runs or walks with my golden retriever, Lucky. Sometimes I’ll take my mountain bike out for a ride, and sometimes I’ll help Uncle Bill if he’s in a pinch. And, there’re always the chores you have to do when you have your own place. Things seem to have a way of breaking in my house, and the landlord’s no help. And I never miss FIBArk, the First in Boating on the Arkansas whitewater festival. It’s coming up soon, and along with doing my regular river ranger thing, I’m volunteering on my days off.

Thanks, Mandy! Okay, Meanderings and Musings readers, do you have a question for Mandy Tanner? What would you like to know about her? And feel free to ask a question of author Beth Groundwater, too. She’ll be monitoring the comments along with Mandy. Remember, everyone who comments will be entered into a contest for a free copy of Deadly Currents. 

If you’d like to see what the other stops are on Beth Groundwater’s virtual book tour and what other characters in the book will be interviewed, go to: http://bethgroundwater.com/2011_Virtual_Book_Tour.html , and if you’d like to order an autographed copy of Deadly Currents, go to the website for Black Cat Books (http://manitoubooks.com/) and click on "Contact Us”. Either call the phone number or fill out the form with your contact information.

Once you've met Asimov, it's all downhill from there by Andi Shechter

Andi Shechter is a two-time Left Coast Crime Chair ('97 and '07) and was honored ten years ago as Fan Guest of Honor at LCC in Anchorage.  
 

She served on the committee for the Silver Anniversary Bouchercon in 1994. Andi lives with the medical mystery of the century.  She can frequently be found, surrounded by her gorilla pals, watching figure skating, reading cookbooks and swooning over really good mystery fiction.

Andi lives in Seattle with Stu Shiffman and spends far too much time on her laptop playing games. She is also a blond, coke-addicted runway model with an attitude from New York. Go ahead, ask her. 

You can follow her blog here:  http://www.journalscape.com/Hedgehog/

Once you've met Asimov, it's all downhill from there 

by Andi Shechter

When I was  a high school student, I was a fan of "Star Trek" . As a college student, I discovered the "Star Trek convention" some years after the show was gone. At the same time, I developed the serious orthopedic problems that were to complicate my life. But funny thing, both things have had huge impacts on me.  The world of fandom and the world of disability and pain.

It all began about 45 plus years ago. In all that time, physically, things have gotten worse.  Fandom, however, my second (and third) families, hasn't changed that much.  We communicate by email now. And social networks and mailing lists and cell phones and faxes, but wow, in so many ways, we haven't changed that much.  However, I have. And I don't really like it.

That first convention that I attended in Manhattan, I think I rented a room at the YWCA.  Staying at the convention hotel was too costly and what the heck?  It's easy to get around New York. Oh, I had a blast.  I met a bunch of strangers, one of whom became a long-time friend.  A friend good enough that when we drove cross-country a few years later, we remained friends throughout and after the trip (not easy.)  I hooked up with some people and we roamed around together. It was easy.  We were young and had Star Trek in common. There were panels and writers and autographings, a dealer's room and an art show.  And it was that Trek con or the one following where I met My First Author.  And as folks who know this story have heard me say far too often, and with apologies to the hundreds of amazing writers I have met, when you start with Isaac Asimov, it's all downhill from there. And we became friends, we really did, but that's a story for another day.

After attending two Trek conventions, I thought, okay, that was fun, what now?  And "what now?" appeared right in front of me in the form of those people who seemed to know what was going on, what to do. And I joined them.

Since those very long-ago days in the 1970s when I joined the "Hole in the Deck Gang" as a convention "gofer" and learned my way around, I've attended and worked on so many that I lost count, but well over 50 genre conventions.  I've attended and worked on conventions in New York, Chicago, Racine, Madison, Minneapolis, New Orleans, Santa Rosa, Los Angeles, San Diego, El Paso, Austin, Atlanta and Portland.  Oregon, not Maine. And Vancouver, BC, Oakland, Eugene, Milwaukee, Denver, Scottsdale, Phoenix, Toronto, Boston, Providence, Tucson, and that's just sitting here right now without looking anything up.

Much of the time that I was employed, I used skills gained working those conventions . I spent most of my working life as a legal secretary and an administrative assistant. But my expertise came from working safety/security/ops/C&C.  I've worn a radio on my hip and a lapel pin that says I can go anywhere in the hotel.  I've done crowd control for major actors who were struck by cream pies (heh) and I've had political conversations with actors on television shows that were lucky to have them (right on, George). I've met authors I admired so much I had to wipe my sweaty hands off on my pants. Twice.  I've had dinner with authors whose books made me cry, made me laugh, made me think.  I have, in other words, been lucky.

In those earliest days, I went from the room at the YWCA to cramming nine women in a two-bed double (I think someone had the tub, but I could be wrong) to a triple on the concierge level (staff and gofers and guests were all somehow accommodated) but we could, I suppose guard against crazed Harlan Ellison fans to requiring a full-out "handicapped accessible" room has required major changes in how I go to a convention.  Carrying a second bag full of books to get autographed and of course several to read because ok, yeah, there's a dealer's room but I want to read this one (seriously? Who am I kidding? I almost never manage to get anything read while at a convention.) has ended. Because of the changes in my life, and the need to travel with a power wheelchair, my suitcases are now more likely to be full of all the damn medications I need, along with a battery charger and extra socks (one gets cold sitting when others walk.)

What changed?  I went from a woman in her 20s with that back surgery behind her, that woman who could (almost) sleep on the floor, who could share a hotel room with a friend for a few hours then get up, hang out, work a 4 hour shift making sure things went smoothly, eat, hang out, buy stuff, hang out, work another shift, crash, lather rinse.  I attended and worked on conventions that turned into near riots (Trek con, Chicago) to conventions where things were so quiet and organized and easy that I threatened my radio rovers with a reading of the world's worst piece of fantasy fiction. I've faced down angry convention-goers standing there, all 5 foot 4 of me with my cane (and three darling men behind me who would never hurt anyone but glared well) and told people to behave. I've partied until 3 in the morning, singing "Teenage Death Songs" with a big-deal editor and I've sung four-part girl group harmony with someone who used to make her living as a singer. I drink rarely but drink at conventions because a massive amount of the best conversations can be found in the bar at any time. I've been in bars in hundreds of hotels, drinking Perrier and margaritas. Drinking Bloody Marys with a friend who loved them – we decided she should write a guide to good Bloody Marys. I was introduced to Chambord at a convention.  I've watched as one of the most amazing people I've ever known bought out a bar for the entire convention. I've watched bars run out of Perrier because they didn't 
believe us when we said "stock up" (the never believe us and there was this time when oh, Perrier ruled.)

I've attended parties that were so funny that we had to write things down.  I've hung out with the finest people in my world.  People who put words on paper in ways I cannot comprehend. I've had breakfast, lunch dinner and drinks with authors. AUTHORS. WRITERS. Rock stars, man.  I mean, I was reading at four years old, had an "adult" library card years before they normally were allowed. My mother worked the Hartford Public Library (or "Liberry" as the phone answering lady insisted on saying. No, really.) and my sister worked there.  My first job was in the West Hartford Public Library and I worked in my college library as a scholarship student. Writers, man.  Books line my house.  I get a library card before I even register to vote. Books have helped me manage my entire life.  Books were there when I hurt. And I've hurt pretty much all my life. I read everywhere.

My friends in fandom would talk about signs of the compulsive reader. We would laugh at the "symptoms".  They included knowing the MDA of riboflavin required in the adult diet from reading the cereal box as a kid.  Being able to read upside down because your parents read the newspaper at the kitchen table at breakfast.  Walking cross-legged to the bathroom because you simply had to have a book in your hand before you headed in there.  We would laugh and nod ruefully.  We had all the symptoms.

When I met Isaac Asimov that fine day, I was amazed.  Meeting someone whose books you've read. Are you KIDDING? At the end of that convention, I was down to my last few dollars and, because I'd sat in a room, rapt with attention at Harlan Ellison reading a story,  I spent those last few dollars on an anthology he'd talked about called DANGEROUS VISIONS which introduced me to "real" science fiction.  By the time I made that cross-country trip and settled in the East Bay, I was primed and oh, the places I went. I met authors and fans in my early days there, interesting, cool, intellectual people who loved books. Who read books, recommended books, sold books and wrote books. And I moved to the Boston area, where I knew dozens of people because we'd met at conventions – in the bar, in the hot tub, working Ops, at a party. Then to Seattle where I'd attended a convention for years, where I knew people from Ops and people who created the best science fiction fanzines ever. People who I knew and saw all the time at conventions. People who, I might add, also loved mystery fiction. And a few years after we moved here, we helped run Bouchercon, the World Mystery Convention.  Three years later, I finally realized that I probably knew enough after all this time and I chaired my first convention. Ten years later I chaired my last convention.

But conventions are expensive and travel hurts.  That's been the reality of my life for some time.  I went from "party until 3" to crutches, cane, scooter, to wheelchair. I use a power/electric wheelchair from morning to night. I'm on disability, an income that's about 1/3 of what I earned when I worked (I never made a lot!) and hotels and books and luxuries like that are things you usually should not try. But oh, it's home. Attending conventions where I see people I haven't seen in months, or years, or ever and we pick up where we left off.  Meeting a friend from DorothyL, telling an author "I loved your book", catching up with a friend you've known for years.  Spending time with the best people you know.  Talking about food, politics, movies, life, travel, love, friendship and books.

I used to schlep books and books and books. Checking the list of attending authors, trying to limit it to 8 or 10 or 12.  Books that wowed me, books by my favorite authors, books I'm "in" (I appear as a character in two mystery novels) books by friends.  It's not something I can do any longer. Travel is harder for all of us.  Travel is complicated and time-consuming and you have to decide about carry-on and checking and shoes and laptops and sealing wax and cabbages….

So what's to be done? Some months ago, I bought an ebook reader.  A friend was getting the newer fancier version and this was but a week or so before Bouchercon and I would be on an airplane for a few hours.  In honor of the location – San Francisco – I had found some Dashiell Hammett short stories that were in public domain and read one to get into the mood. But mostly I played word games on it because. Because it's not a book.

I had to stop a while back and think about why I get books signed and I didn't really know. Mostly it was to connect with someone, to have the chance to say something about that book, take time to connect.  I spent countless hours in the past few months trying to plan a convention trip. Hours of decisions over transportation and hassles and wheelchair issues and worrying that what that authority said might not be so true. And I cancelled. I cancelled my home convention, my family reunion.  So I still have time to figure out if there's a way to go up to someone and ask them to sign my Kindle. I just don't think it's such a great idea.