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Have I No Shame?
I think we already know the answer to that question.
But. Even I should be embarrassed to admit that I went through most of the day believing it was Wednesday, clinging to the delusion that I didn’t need to write this blog entry until tomorrow, rejoicing that I had all kinds of time to keep doing what I’ve been doing. And what is that? Reading. Many, many good books. Pausing, on occasion, to watch back-to-back-to-back episodes of The Wire. It’s Post-Book Land, people, and I’m living the debauched life.
About half an hour ago, I closed the novel I’m powering through, turned out the lights, and buried myself under my well-fluffed comforter. The ceiling fan’s on, my balcony door is open, cool air kissing my face. Bliss. Until I realize that it is not actually Wednesday. It is Thursday. Only now it’s after midnight, which means it’s Friday and I’m overdue for a blog.
So how did I get in this deranged state of mind? To start, I spent last week in New York, partly for the Edgar Awards, partly for meetings, and partly to spend time with lots of my favorite people in one of my favorite cities. I had Thai delivered to my hotel room one night and fell asleep crazy early, catching eleven hours before I woke up. Had an amazing lunch with my editor and a fantastic afternoon tea with Lauren Willig. Went to a slew of Edgar parties, some of which required cocktail dresses (yay!). Hung out at the Algonquin wishing I knew more Dorothy Parker quotes (although, really, “Brevity is the soul of lingerie” should suffice).
Oh yeah.
And I got to see Arthur Phillips read, which was wonderful. I’d tell you all to go buy his books, but I cannot imagine there’s a soul amongst you who’s not already done just that.
It was quite a week. Pictures here. Wish I was still there. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I love New York. And they have great cabs. Just in case you were wondering.
ANYWAY.
We are not here to listen to me blather on about the city that never sleeps. Although I do feel obliged to point out that it does, in fact, sleep. I certainly didn’t see much happening on my thirty-odd block walk back to Grand Central way too late at night.
Not, you know, that I make a habit of wandering around in the middle of the night. At least not alone. Today’s Virtual Cocktail guest, Robert Gregory Browne, makes a point of ensuring that I’m properly chaperoned at all times. His debut novel, Kiss Her Goodbye, has just been reissued in paperback, and you’d be hard pressed to find a better book to keep you up tonight.
So, yeah, you can go buy it. Now. A couple copies. Never know when you might need to have a gift or two on hand.
I’m just saying.
Ready for a drink?
Robert Gregory Browne’s Irish French Kiss
1 1/2 oz. Irish Cream (Bailey’s)
3/4 oz. Cointreau
3/4 oz. Grand Marnier
1 wedge Oranges
BRETT: Anything particular you want to whine about today?
ROB: Today? I’m always whining, ask my friends. Oh, wait, you probably got this question from one of my friends. I’m guessing Battles. Or maybe Blackmoore. So I’ll whine about THEM for awhile. Oh, hell, I don’t have the energy.
SEAN: If Spiderman and Wonder Woman had an affair, what special powers would their kid get?
ROB: I’m guessing that kid would be one helluva basketball player.
KRISTY: Describe your ultimate dinner.
ROB: My ultimate dinner is Blackened Ahi on a bed of white rice from Roy’s restaurant in Honolulu with my family. Roy’s blackened ahi has, without question, the greatest sauce known to man. Roy’s food, in general, is orgasmic.
Barring that, a good chicken katsu plate lunch from Grace’s in Honolulu makes a damn good dinner, too.
BRETT: Is there any truth to the rumor you take a megaphone to book signings?
ROB: Hahaha. Anyone who knows me knows that not only do I not take a megaphone, but the next person I have to sit next to at a signing who USES a megaphone (whether it be electronic or merely cupped hands) to hawk his or her books may well find him/herself wearing his/her ass for a hat.
CARRIE: What’s your worst nightmare?
ROB: A serious answer: losing a child or loved one. That’s been an underlying theme in just about everything I’ve written, including KISS HER GOODBYE. I can’t think of any nightmare worse than that.
BRETT: Mac or PC?
ROB: Both. I use a PC for writing and video editing and a Mac for music composition/production (Logic 8 rocks). I love them both, have been a PC guy longer, but them Macs sure are purty.
JIM: If you could change one thing about Hollywood, what would it be?
ROB: The blockbuster mentality that dominates that world. I miss the old days of the early seventies when stories were about people, not gadgets.
BRETT: How many dozens of books do you read a year?
ROB: Read? What mean read?
Heh. Let’s make him read. Answer the questions he’s left for the comments……
1. How many writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
2. Bedroom chatter: salty or sweet?
3. What’s your preferred method of murder?
That’s it for now! I’m hoping I can recapture the now disturbed perfection of my bed. Let me sleep late, will you?
xo
Tasha
P.S. I just realized I forgot about my nearly disastrous flight home. Fifteen minutes in the air and the cabin filled with smoke. They told us it was nothing to worry about. Heh. We circled nowhere for a while, and then were diverted to JFK for an emergency landing. A runway lined with more emergency vehicles than you can count does not exactly inspire confidence. Pretty freaky to be on a plane in a situation like that. Makes you take stock of things. But I liked what I saw when I thought about my life.
And that is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Madman, Architect, Carpenter, Judge
Butcher, Baker, Candlestickmaker…
No, wait. That’s not what this is about. This is not all the things I’ll consider becoming if’n a contract doesn’t cross my desk soon. I’m probably not giving credit where credit is due, so help me out if you’ve heard this from someone legit before, but I heard a discussion of this the other day and it stuck with me.
It’s about the writing process, see?
At first, allow yourself to be the Madman - free write, free associate, dance naked around the computer keyboard, whatever gets you there…
Next, become the Architect - plan a little, structure things, lay this thing out here and that thing there…
After that, come back as the Carpenter - fix what’s squeaking, what’s hanging down where nothing should be, and saw off the sticking out bits from the standing up ones…
Lastly, come back as the Judge - be one of those nasty ones from daytime TV if you must, but finetune with a critical eye, edit ruthlessly and be honest with yourself and the piece…
I’ll be in and out today, but I’d love to hear your take on this, see if anyone’s heard it before, and hear about what profession you mask yourself as during your process. And maybe later, I’ll upload the video of me going through my process onto YouTube - you’ll have to check it out to see if I was just making up the “dance naked” part… 
Malice/Festival of Mystery Report
Who: The usual suspects (i.e. mystery readers, writers, and various Good Girls)
What: Malice and Festival of Mystery
When: April 25 – 28, 2008
Where: Washington D.C.; Annapolis, MD; Pennsylvania turnpike; Oakmont, PA.
Why: If there is a mystery event, a Good Girl will probably come.
Summary: After “stopping” quite a bit more than “going” in the stop-and-go traffic on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, I arrived at Malice on Friday morning to drop off two auction baskets, one travel-themed basket for Getting Away is Deadly and another with lots of signed GG books. Since all paths cross in the Hospitality Suite (second only to the bar as the most popular meeting place), I immediately ran into Heather Webber, Katherine Hall Page, Meredith Cole, and two Good Girls, Laura and Diana. Malice feels more like a family reunion every year. Laura already covered our too brief meet-up in the bar, so I won’t rehash that, but suffice it to say the meetings of the Good Girls this year were far too short and we missed Tasha terribly.
The banquet is always a highlight of Malice. Diana and I again hosted a table together and had a lovely time with people who actually chose to eat with us! The food was surprisingly good, too. Sally Fellows moderated my bright-and-early Sunday morning panel, Murder and Domesticity. Everyone played nice and I had a fun time chiming in with Maggie Sefton, Heather Webber, Sheila Connolly, and Kate Collins.
Marcia Talley invited me to participate in a Sunday night signing in Annapolis with her, Donna Andrews, Rhys Bowen, and Kate Flora. I was honored to be included with such a great group of authors! I’d been having allergy issues and by that evening my voice had descended into the husky range. Thank goodness there was a microphone and an attentive audience! The next morning Diana and I hit the freeway for a soggy drive to Pennsylvania. My voice was scratchier and you can imagine how frustrated I was—two Good Girls on a five-hour road trip and I could barely croak out a few sentences. Irritating to say the least! We took a few scenic—and unintentional—detours along the way, but managed to arrive at the Greek Orthodox Church Hall early.
The Festival of Mystery, in its thirteen year, was the most amazing event I’ve ever seen! People lined up hours before the doors opened, then they flooded in. These people were serious book buyers. They browsed, they chatted, they bought books, and they listened to the author interviews. My hat is off to Mystery Lovers Bookshop. Richard and Mary Alice know how to do a mystery book fair up right! Afterwards they treated all the authors to pizza back at the bookstore. By then my voice had gone from Kathleen Turner to Minnie Mouse, so I didn’t say much, but I enjoyed being part of the fun. Monday was another five-hour drive back to the reality of laundry and billpay.
Respectfully submitted,
Sara Rosett, one happy mystery author
Random Stuff
I remember, as a kid, hearing people use the expression “to a fault” when describing someone as “honest” or “hardworking” or even “nice.” It was an add-on I never really understood. How could honesty or niceness be a liability?
And then I grew up.
Now, if I had to pick just one word to describe myself, I think I’d have to go with sensitive.
To a fault.
Sure there are times—more often than not, actually—when I’m glad I’m sensitive. It makes me (I hope) a nice person. A compassionate person. A genuine person. But sometimes, when you’re sensitive, the slightest shift in the earth can make you doubt yourself and your place, making you feel…well…blue. Or, rather, bleh.
Because of that, I’m taking the easy route on today’s blog and leaving you with a handful of tidbits–some newsy and some not so newsy.
**As reported in the Monday, May 5th Publisher’s Lunch Deluxe (which highlights a handful of recent deals in the publishing industry) under Fiction’s mystery/crime:
Laura Bradford writing as Elizabeth Lynn Casey’s SOUTHERN SEWING mystery series, to Emily Rapoport at Berkley Prime Crime, in a nice deal, in a three-book deal, by Jacky Sach at BookEnds (World).
~A big thank you goes to Gabi for calling my attention to this unexpected mention in the Deluxe edition.
**I start a new study today. For the University of Illinois. This one requires me to wear this 
around my waist for 7 days. It monitors my activity level and helps researchers learn more about M.S. I also learned—during my drug study appointment yesterday—that I’ll be one of a very small number of people in this country trying out a new state-of-the-art injection contraption. Perhaps I’ll become famous one day as “study subject number five.”
**My nine-year-old came home from school yesterday with a plethora of flowers for me. She made the tissue-paper bouquet during a Cinco de Mayo activity in her classroom. It doesn’t get much more beautiful, does it?
**Now that spring is beginning to put up a decent fight, I can begin to enjoy one of my favorite me-spots once again.
This bench is just a short walk from my row home and it’s a great place to dream, read, write, and enjoy an occasional milkshake. Don’t these homes in the background remind you of Sesame Street?
I guess that’s it for now. I’ll pull it up in time for next week. Or treat you to a guest blogger… Theo?
Hugs,
~Laura
O-hi-o
So, back from Malice Domestic Mystery Convention, and very nearly caught up on email and everything else that comes with being away from home for a week. And, just for the record, my flights were all on schedule (well, there was that hour and a half delay in Dallas, but actually I had a very nice dinner in a cute little cafe and worked on my book, so that worked out) and my luggage was not lost. Not once.
Other things were lost. But not my luggage.
I have to confess that I was not terribly eager to attend Malice this year. Not because I don’t enjoy Malice — I do. It’s one of my favorite conferences. But I’m so swamped with deadlines and projects that I felt I couldn’t afford the time away. But I was wrong. It was a good trip. Good for many reasons, not least of which was spending time with my sisters-in-crime, Laura, Reggie, and Sara. Sara and I, in fact, got to spend a lot of quality time together, and let me tell you that nothing bonds women like poring over maps and sampling blue fish. I highly recommend the roadtrip experience to Good Girls everywhere. For discussing career strategies and consuming large quantities of pizza and caffeine, it beats the traditional slumber party every time.
There are other reasons to attend conferences, of course. It’s a great chance to corner chat with your editor, visit with readers (and what could possibly be nicer than hearing in person from people who loved your latest book?), and hobnob with fellow authors. Conferences are mostly spent talking — and this is not a bad thing for people who spend most of their time writing. It’s nice to let the voices outside your head have a say once in a while.
There are author dinners and agent dinners and dinners with friends — and there are banquets. Malice has one of the better mystery convention banquets. At Malice, authors have the option of hosting a table, and then readers get to sign up for the table of their choice. For the past couple of years Sara and I have double-teamed hosting a table, and I have to say this makes it a lot more fun for everyone. Not least because the people at our table — including me and Sara — get double the party favors (which include chocolate and wine). The banquet dinner (assuming you can get served with everyone else) at Malice is better than a lot of convention food — this is partly because Malice takes place in a very nice hotel with a nice kitchen and a breakfast buffet that I look forward to all year long — but I digress.
I have to say, though, this was the first time I’d ever stayed in the hotel after the convention ended, and it was eerie. Few things are more desolate than a convention hotel on a Sunday night after the convention is over. Great setting for a mystery…
One thing I’ve learned since I started going to conventions is that while it’s true you’re at the convention to work (though not in the same sense as the ladies lingering outside the hotel), there’s no reason not to treat yourself a little. I had a bubble bath and went to bed early with a good book the night I arrived. I can’t think of the last time I did either of those things. I even treated myself to a movie one night — National Treasure: Book of Secrets. Unfortunately I fell asleep during that one, so I don’t know how much of a treat it was.
Extra bonus treat for me: it POURED rain for a couple of days. If there’s one thing I love, it’s rain. And this was a wet and wonderful deluge from a California girl’s perspective.
Following Malice, Sara and I hightailed it over to the Festival of Mystery. This is an absolutely fabulous event held in an old Greek church in a quaint little town in Pennsylvania (which is right next to Ohio, just for the record). We all moan and groan about people not buying books. Holy moly! Readers line up outside the church for this book-buying extravaganza. Fifty mystery authors, a whole lot of books, and a whole lot of readers. It’s a match made in heaven. No wonder they hold it in a church.
What a delight to see so many people buying books — loving books. And Mystery Lovers Bookshop is one of those charming places that get fewer and fewer each year. All the more reason to support events and bookstores like this one.
Anyway, that’s pretty much it for my malicious adventures. I suppose I should have talked a bit about my panel: MURDER ON THE WATERFRONT, but I’ll leave it for now. One of these days I’d like to blog on the topic of mystery convention panels.
Meantime, I’ll leave it to Sara, Laura or Reggie to fill in the blanks of their own adventures. And I can’t wait to find out more about Tasha’s emergency landing — she does lead an interesting life. Even for a Good Girl.
Apologies
Sorry for no post yesterday–I had internet problems while away in New York. Lots in store for next week though–Robert Gregory Browne will be our guest for Virtual Cocktails, and I’ll tell you all about the Edgar Awards and the emergency landing my plane had to make after smoke filled the cabin.
My Love/Hate Relationship with Caffeine
Oh, Big C, you’re so bad for me. I don’t care how many of the other Girls are in love with you. They can have you. I’m done, I’m through, do you hear me? No more jolts and racing heart for this Girl. No more pounding headaches when I am without you for just a few hours. No more sorrowful longing for more of you when the bottom of my mug is all I have left. No more, I say, no more. Just let me sleep!
I’ve been having some trouble sleeping this past year and I finally made the decision that, as much of a survival tool as it’s been, I had to give up the old Big C. It was getting a bit perverse - forcing myself up out of sleep that was hard-won just to down a quart of liquid energy, spiking my level of alertness higher than the alarm clock could ever get it to go. Or worse, waking early - way too early - and being unable to get back to Morpheus. Adding the Big C sure didn’t help me on that difficult path.
I’m mainly a tea and soda gal (love the smell of coffee, never got over the taste) but I don’t think that makes it any easier. There are caffeine-free versions of each of the beloved beverages, but I’ve given up soda outright - sparkling mineral water and her trashy sister seltzer are my gals now. Decaf tea and I are fast friends, but I only see her in the morning, as I’ve heard she’s not quite as “free” as she claims. The herbals get me through the afternoon and evening and I’ve come to enjoy the zing of a lemon ginger infusion, the sweet tang of a passionfruit concoction, the cool feel of peppermint in my nose and throat.
And I am sleeping better. Really, I am. It’s all been worth it. Now I just have to do without that zap of “awake” every morning. For the rest of my life.
Sigh.
Commiserate with me, people. Have you ever hopped up onto the caffeine-free wagon? Ever fallen off? What genial beverage could you just never be without?
Drawing the Line
I sometimes wonder as I’m reading a book how much of the story was drawn from the author’s life. If the story has a snarky mother-in-law, did reality inspire the author? Probably not, if those dedications and acknowledgements hold any truth. You know the ones. They go something like this, “Even though the main character in this book lives next-door to the neighbors from hell, my neighbors are the nicest people on earth!”
Riiiiiight!!!
For me it’s often hard to remember the starting point for each facet of a book. I get ideas from everything—the people that I meet, the places I visit, the work I do, the newspaper articles I read. Everything.
If I start off with an idea or characteristic drawn from real life, those details usually mutate into something unique to the book as I write. When I wrote the synopsis for Getting Away, I had a character who was definitely on the wrong side of the law. He stayed that way until about half way though the first draft when I realized he was a good guy masquerading as a bad guy, which made the story so much more interesting.
Since I write about a family with kids there is some crossover between my real life and the fiction I write, which tends to come out in the parenting and motherhood themes in my books. Rarely do I take an incident and repeat it verbatim in a book. Instead, I try to think back to what it was like when my kids were younger and recapture the feelings I had then—how repetitive the daily routine was at times (the laundry never ends!), the joy of naptime, and the anxiety I felt about raising my kids. My goal is to distill those emotions into a few incidents that show character and keep the plot moving.
There are certain things that are totally off limits. The other day a funny incident occurred in our family that would make wonderful blog material. But I’m not going to write about it because it would embarrass one family member. I won’t fictionalize it and put it in a book either. Keeping things private is almost a foreign concept in today’s tell-all, expose-all world. We have people taking lie detector tests on TV, exposing themselves and their families to pain. And then there’s countless people making fools of themselves on other shows, just for a few minutes in the limelight.
So what about you? Where’s the line between your real life and fiction? How much of your daily life goes into your writing? Are there topics you won’t write about?
Honey, I’m Home
Malice Domestic 2008 has officially come and gone, leaving in its wake some great memories.
I flew into Reagan National on Thursday afternoon and—after making a pit stop at the hotel to dump my suitcases/connect with my roommate—headed off to the zoo with Heather to see my first-ever real live panda bear. We conquered the subway system once again (though the automated machine to pay for it was a bit more difficult) and made our way up the steepest escalator I’ve ever seen in my life.
Of course, being mystery writers, we couldn’t help but discuss the dangers of such a steep contraption. But I digress…
Once we found our way to the zoo grounds, it took a while to actually find some animals. The otter pond was otter-less, the outdoor panda pen was vacant, and the hippo pool was completely stagnant. Cage after cage was empty, leaving us to do what women do when faced with a challenge—we got a snack. Armed with a bag of soggy French fries (Heather’s) and a bottle of water (mine), we wandered around until we got the bright idea to ask where we might find this particular zoo’s most famous tenants. Sure enough, they were nestled in their multi-room indoor habitat. Who knew?!?!?!
This picture was taken through glass with a cell phone, but it gives you a glimpse of the first panda I’ve ever seen. He put on quite a show with his bamboo and didn’t look a whole lot different than his stuffed gift shop counterpart.
Friday brought shopping and, perhaps, the best milk shake I’ve ever had (Oh. My. Gosh). The multi-digit calorie intake was easily justified, of course, by the amount of walking we did both that day and the day before. There was, however, no justification for the milk duds I consumed throughout the weekend 
…
Unless you take into account the simple fact that I like them. A lot. Okay, more than a lot. But it’s really hard to resist when someone is serving as an enabler to your addiction. 
Ahem.
Anyway, Friday evening was the Berkley Prime Crime dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steak House in Arlington and it was delicious. My place setting at the table had me conversing with some really nice fellow authors—Hannah Dennison, Mary Jane Maffini, and Linda O Johnston. I, of course, was thrilled to simply be there.
Saturday was panel and signing day, as well as the Agatha banquet. Toastmaster Dan Stashower was laugh-out-loud funny and the dessert was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. The Good Girls met up in the hotel bar afterward to trade stories and bemoan Tasha’s absence. Here we are dressed and ready to kill…
Now it’s back to the real world. Which includes writing. Lots and lots o’ writing.
Hugs,
~Laura
How Do You Spell R-e-l-i-e-f?
So…right about now Sara and I should be setting out for the wilds of Pittsburgh — wish us luck!
Obviously I wrote this post ahead of time (in an attempt to distract myself from brooding over my soon-to-be-lost luggage). I have the world’s looniest writing schedule right now — I may have mentioned that last week — and I find I’m really looking forward to the hour of gardening I treat myself to in the mornings.
I know it sounds weird to look forward to pulling weeds and mixing up batches of fish fertilizer, but I find this time really relaxing. Something about the combination of physical labor, fresh air and sunshine, the scent of flowers — and not having to think (too much) is really proving good for my creative energy. Which is fortunate because I can use all the creative engergy I can get right now.
So how do you spend that very limited amount of free time when you’re in the midst of writing? What do you do to unwind, to re-energize when you’re still working to meet a deadline? Or even if you’re not on a deadline, what do you do to recharge those creative batteries?
Oh, and if you don’t hear from Sara and me by next week…send out the St. Bernards. Preferably the ones with the brandy casks attached to their collars.