I’m out of words today. Tired. A little frazzled. Devoid of all pith.

So.

Let’s go elsewhere for inspiration, shall we? Maybe play a game of sorts? I’ll give you three quotes from things I’ve recently read. Then you do the same. OK?

Humor me, people. It’s this or poetry, and we did poetry last time. Although Neruda is never a bad idea.

Here goes:

…she laughed too knowingly and wore tight skirts and would end in an apartment in Elmont or Uniondale, married to the fiercest, sexiest boy, who’d carve the years straight into her skin with his tempers and habits.

–Flesh and Blood, Michael Cunningham

There were times for both of us, when I was writing too, when we could only claw ourselves back to sanity in the depths of each other’s skin in the dark of the night, desperate and mindless and hungry for something we couldn’t name.

–Ghostwalk, Rebecca Stott

You cannot pretend to read a book. Your eyes will give you away. So will your breathing. A person entranced by a book simply forgets to breathe. The house can catch alight and a reader deep in a book will not look up until the wallpaper is in flames.

–Mister Pip, Lloyd Jones

What’s keeping you from noticing the wallpaper’s on fire?

xo
Tasha

I have a split personality.

At least, clothes-wise I do.

I have my writing duds, the everyday clothes I wear when I’m writing and my dressier author attire. I spend most of the year in jeans and t-shirts. If the weather’s cold, I throw on a sweatshirt or jean jacket. I don’t really have a reason to dress up. My part-time job involves hauling boxes and sorting greeting cards, so casual is the way to go there, too. My church is come-as-you-are and anything from suits to shorts is okay. I definitely fall into the informal spectrum on Sunday mornings. My life right now doesn’t involve nights out on the town, so I really only have one time I gussy up—when I’m “the author.”

I put on my Author Clothes for signings and conventions. Several times a year, I dig out my nice black pants, a suit jacket or two, and a few jewel-toned linen shirts. I suit up, making myself presentable for the audience. When I first dipped my toe in the writing pond and attended a writing conference, I went for the black suit look. People asked me how long I’d been an agent. At my next con I wore a kelly green jacket. Haven’t been mistaken for an agent since.

Instead, I’m usually mistaken for a bookstore employee at signings.

“Oh, you’re the author!”

Apparently people don’t expect the person handing out bookmarks and telling them about the books on the table at the front of the store to actually be the author.

Maybe I need funkier Author Clothes. Maybe a tied-dyed t-shirt that says, “Yes, I wrote the book! I’m the author.”

What about you? Do you have a split clothing personality? Do you have writing duds? Anything special for conventions? And, I’m taking suggestions for clothes that scream, “Hey, she’s the author.”

After a weekend of croup, colds and Mother’s Day I got to thinking about balance – or rather the lack of it in my life. Sometimes I wish I could leap into one of my books and inhabit a fictitious world where (hopefully) the author has painted an ideal scene far removed from reality – a place I can sink into like a big, comfy couch.

In reality, I find trying to fit my writing in is the hardest – everything else, all of life’s errands and mundane tasks (laundry anyone?) always seem to take over and there I am trying to squeeze out the creative juices at 10:30pm as I try to get some writing done. It can be soul-destroying some days as writing is my passion – it’s what I love to do more than anything (except be with my family and kids of course!) but I never seem to find the right balance. I always end up desperately trying to meet the deadline while juggling freelance (non-writing) projects, my boys (husband, twins and dog), the newsletter for my local twins group, day-to-day stuff (I try not let my kids starve or go naked), as well as promotion and publicity for my books. Some days, in true Australian fashion, I think I’m as mad as a gumtree full of galahs…

My heroine, Ursula Marlow, doesn’t need to worry about balance. She has servants after all – so when she arrives home to her luxurious Chester Square home, her butler will take her coat and bring her a nice cup of tea, Cook will have prepared a lavish Edwardian dinner, her maid will have taken care of the laundry and her housekeeper will have made sure the household affairs are in order. Sounds pretty nice, huh? When she feels inspired she can tuck her knees up on the chaise lounge and read the Strand Magazine before she has to face the necessary sleuthing for the book. As author I get to play with other forms of balance – dialogue, description, inner monologue and action. Unlike my life, Ursula rarely gets caught up in lengthy (i.e. boring) tasks because a few pages of that would cause a reader to nod off. No, she is spared all of that and besides, if I start getting tangled up in details like what she is going to wear, eat or where to find a missing button, I can just end the chapter and move on!

With twin toddlers I think I need to reset my expectations of balance and just accept that chaos really is the norm – that there will be few ‘Zen-moments’ in my life at present. So for now, I’ll just continue to struggle to fit my writing life in with everyday life. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life, I just wish I had a couple of clones stuffed away in a closet that I could bring out when the deadline draws near!

So how do you find balance? How do you carve out time to do the things you love? All and any tips are appreciated!

~Clare Langley-Hawthorne was raised in England and Australia. She was an attorney in Melbourne before moving to the United States, where she began her career as a writer. She lives in Oakland, California with her family. Consequences of Sin, her first novel was published by Viking in 2007 and the paperback released by Penguin February 2008. The second in her Ursula Marlow mystery series, The Serpent and The Scorpion, is due in bookstores October 2008.

So madly typing my way towards my deadline for Dial Om For Murder…and the wrist is aching.

I don’t know if this is psychosomatic or if my wrist is really starting to feel the strain, but I’m going to excuse myself from today’s blogging duties.

I don’t want to hear any “C” words, but just in case, anyone have any strategies for preserving the health and happiness of their hands?

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?

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.

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…

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

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

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.

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.