Lea Wait's Blog, page 187

August 24, 2018

Weekend Update: August 25-26, 2018

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Dorothy Cannell (Monday) Kate Flora (Tuesday), Joe Souza (Wednesday), John Clark (Thursday), and a group post—Writers at their Desks (Friday).


In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:


 


 


An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.


And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

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Published on August 24, 2018 22:05

August 23, 2018

How to Say Hello

At five in the morning now, I’m starting to feel the darkness that signifies the slow creep in of autumn and not a moment too soon. As a parting gift to the summer folks (or as an Alafair Burke character memorably savages the crowd on Long Island, “the summer sewage”) who like so much to fit in, I present: How to Say Hello.


So, in no particular order of importance or familiarity and with no hierarchy of intimacy implied, they are these.


Eye-Flick Look-away 


The barest of acknowledgement, the greeter in this case is usually passing on the street. The connection of looks is generally not long enough to be considered eye contact and the usual direction of the look-away is somewhere into space, at a far angle from the person being greeted. In effect, not so much a greeting as an acknowledgement of an impediment on the sidewalk where you’re walking.


Nod without eye contact


This is probably the most common between strangers, a short quick raise and lower of the head, with the focus down on the shoes or anywhere else that doesn’t constitute an implied connection. [image error]The stakes are low here and the look, if not straight down at the pavement, generally flies quickly past the shoulder of the greeting’s recipient without contact, so as not to presume on a common humanity. Slightly more warm than the eye flick and especially common among teenagers, professional introverts, and lovers still suffering from a broken heart.


Nod with glancing eye contact


This is a slightly more humane version of the short nod described above, favored by folks with a slightly sunnier view of the universe. More common on bluebird days and rare on weekends, especially in coastal towns. Nod is likely to be more defined than above and the eye contact a touch more prolonged than in the eye flick lookaway case.


Nod with eye contact and smile


This comprises a robust and vigorous greeting, one step short of a two-handed salesman’s handshake and a slap on the back. Usually tried out on you by a tourist, someone who’s trying to sell you something, or that one relative you haven’t managed to convince not to come back to camp next year, though they’ve left their wet bathing suits all over the bathroom, sandied up your carpets, and imbibed an excess of Allen’s on more than one occasion, also to the detriment of your carpets.


Chin lift


This mode should in no way be confused with a nod, either nod with eye contact or without. This is an abrupt lift of the chin, always upward and very little down again. Getting closer to a native greeting here. Most often used by men, especially those on a mission to the hardware store or the chandlery, who are in a hurry and can’t spare the extra downward motion of a full nod. Quite common in interior parts of the state, as well as in coastal towns with a boatyard.


The lift a Finger


[image error]Now we’re talking the real thing. Probably the quintessential local’s greeting, especially when the appropriate finger (index only, please!) is employed and the lift is from the steering wheel of a rusted-out 70’s Ford pickup. Unusual, but not unheard of, to see two or three fingers lifted, but rarely a whole hand. Useful for thanking flag people at road construction sites. Extra points if a burning cigarette protrudes from between the fingers.


[image error]One common variation in the southern part of the state is the finger lift off the handlebars of a bicycle on the trail around Back Cove, but the greeting effect is null and void if the lifter is wearing any form of Spandex clothing or a pink or acid-yellow bicycle helmet.


A’ight


And finally, a man of an age gets up from his table at the local restaurant, precedes his wife of a certain age to the cash register, where the proprietor says “A’ight?” To which the man replies: “A’ight.”


The first rendition is a question whether the man and his companion enjoyed their dinner, the server was polite, the silverware clean, and the bill within his means. The second, if rendered into human speech, might translate as something like: “Thank you very much for the delicious dinner. We had a lovely time and everyone was polite. The food was superbly cooked and the crust on the apple pie as light as Aunt Tildie’s. We’ll certainly return.”


I hope this clears things up, though being as it’s nearing the end of the season, I suppose we’ll have to rerun this again sometime next May.


A’ight? A’ight.

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Published on August 23, 2018 21:01

August 22, 2018

Two New Lea Wait Historicals Published

When on June 18 I heard I’d been diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, it took me only an hour or two to know one of the things I wanted to do with the time I had left.


Most readers of this blog know I write three contemporary mystery series. But I have to admit that my first love is writing historicals, and I’ve had five historicals published that are set in 19th century Maine for ages 8 and up. (Many of my readers are also adults, and I’ve been thrilled when adult literacy or English as a Second Language groups have chosen to read them, too.)


My historicals have been honored by being nominated in 14 states for student choice awards, and I’ve always especially loved speaking to school groups.


But two of the historicals I’ve written were never published. Editor or publishers changed; other genres (fantasy, dystopian, vampires) became more popular; so my books have been sitting patiently in my computer, waiting for their time to come.


And I’m now thrilled to announce that they’re out in the world — on Amazon for now (in paperback and e-book formats) but soon to be on other sites, and in some bookstores. Tuesday night I introduced them at a library talk in Southport, Maine, and sold all the copies I had (I’ve re-ordered) so I hope that’s a sign of things (and sales) to come.[image error]


The first book, FOR FREEDOM ALONE, set in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1846-47, is the story of a father and his three children who were among the tens of thousands of Highlanders thrown out of Scotland by the English between 1780 and 1860 during what became known as the Highland Clearances.  (The English replaced those they thought of as their tenants with sheep.) Displaced, some families were able to get to Canada or Australia, and a lucky few to the United States. But many found themselves sharing slums in Glasgow and Edinburgh with survivors of the Irish potato famine and the industrial revolution. Very little has been written about this period, or what it cost the Scots to survive. Today historians estimate that ninety million people around the world claim Scottish ancestry — many of them descendants of those displaced during the Clearances. Perhaps you are a descendant of one of those families.


In FOR FREEDOM ALONE a father who has always taken care of his family finds he cannot find work in Edinburgh, although women and children can get jobs in mines, factories, and some businesses, because they cost less to employ. Fifteen-year-old Meggie is lucky to find work as a hotel maid. Kirstie, only four, huddles in a dark room to be safe. And twelve-year-old Rab must learn the ways of the streets, and of the boys who live there. As they all struggle to make their dream of getting to America come true, they learn truths, some bitter, about themselves and each other.


[image error]The second book, CONTRARY WINDS: A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION , is set in 1777, in Boothbay and Wiscasset, Maine, and then at the Battles of Saratoga, and revolves around the lives of an newly immigrated family:  the oldest son is in the Continental Army, the second son is a member of the Seacoast Defense, a group in Northern New England who attempted to defend the coast from the British Navy, and the younger two children play critical roles. Sarah goes to stay with an English woman she met on her trans-Atlantic journey and who now lives in Wiscasset, where there are more people (and food) than on ends of District of Maine peninsulas. She soon learns there are more Royalists, too, and that everyone must be watched. Meanwhile, her brother Rory runs away to join the York Militia, which marches from southern Maine to the banks of the Hudson to reinforce troops that will fight the first decisive battles of the Revolution: the Battles of Saratoga.


Filled with accurate details of life both on the home front and in the militia, Sarah’s and Rory’s exciting stories alternate, as they both find their courage can make major differences to the future of their new nation.


With hopes you’ll check out these newest books, and, if you enjoy them, you’ll write reviews, and recommend them, so they can reach as many readers as possible.


And — yes — I have one more historical — this one an adult historical mystery — that I’m polishing. Stay tuned!

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Published on August 22, 2018 21:05

August 21, 2018

The Post Where I Tell You We’re Selling Our House in Boothbay Harbor

by Barb, happily typing away in her study in Portland, Maine


Yes, it’s true. After a long, difficult decision process, Bill and I have put our house in Boothbay Harbor on the market. Our ties to to the house are deep. Bill’s mother bought it in 1989. For my kids, and my nieces and nephews, it is “Grandma’s house.” I wrote about her purchase of the house here.


Here is the listing, in case you know anyone who is looking for a Victorian house with tremendous harbor views. http://www.tindalandcallahan.com/drealty_listing/1054


Here’s the house shortly after it was built in 1879 by Captain George P. Murray.


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And here it is today.


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The very best thing about the house is sitting on the wide front porch and watching the activity in the harbor.


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Here’s the master bedroom.


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You can see the rest of the photos online.


Let me hasten to add, this doesn’t mean the end of my Maine Clambake Mystery series, which many people know is set in a suspiciously familiar Busman’s Harbor, Maine. There’s a new novella collection, Yule Log Murder, coming October 30, and a new novel, Steamed Open, coming December 18.


But it does mean the end of an era for us. In June, Bill had a different set of his siblings and their kids up every weekend. It was a time for laughter and tears and saying good-bye.


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If you happen to know anyone who’s in the market for a place to make a lot of memories, pass the listing along!

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Published on August 21, 2018 22:43

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

[image error]I have boundless energy at about four-thirty in the morning. Mental energy, that is – not necessarily physical, though that varies. But lying in bed at that hour – which is, incidentally, about the time Magnus the Cat decides he’d like to snuggle (usually on my head) – I can move mountains with the power of my mind. From climate change to home decorating to a dazzling array of get-rich-quick schemes that, at that darkest-before-the-dawn hour, seem completely viable… All of these tend to demand they be heard just when I’m longing for the dregs of a good night’s sleep.


These ideas range from inventions to book ideas to blogs to web-based reality shows. From online magazines to niche-market Kombucha operations. At that hour, I rarely long for something small or quiet or easily managed, all of which are my default positions in the clear light of day. God forbid I just think to myself, “Gee, how about if tomorrow I start a blog?” No, no, no. It has to be the biggest blog. With a corresponding website, multidimensional logo, podcast, and theme song to go along with it. Early-morning Jen does not know how to go small.


Most of these inconveniently timed idea-paloozas are spawned by financial worries: Is there enough from book royalties this month to cover mortgage, student loans, medical bills, car insurance, unexpected computer repairs? Maybe, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything to put away for retirement, much less for the dream of buying cute little eco-friendly cottages for my Mom and Dad one day soon.


I wonder, sometimes, what would happen if that bold and fearless 4:30 a.m. Jen Blood were unleashed on the waking world. What if I just let her take the reins for a while, focused on a new craft Kombucha that would set the world on fire? The problem with this, I suspect, is that 4:30 a.m. Jen Blood is a fickle beast. What seems perfect one early morning is discarded as too daring or too drab the very next day. A plan that I’m sure could motivate a generation to end climate change seems downright bizarre by the time I’ve had my morning smoothie. I envy people who have an epiphany once a decade, and know this is The Thing they must act on – like that scene in Jerry Maguire where Tom Cruise wakes up in the middle of the night, writes a manifesto, quits his job, and ends up with a sweet new business and 1996 Renee Zellweger in his bed. Epiphanies are much less clear cut when they strike three or four times a week.


There are times, however, when the same idea wakes me up rarin’ to go before the sun rises for consecutive days in a row – sometimes for a whole week. When this happens, it’s generally a safe bet that this is an idea worth acting on. The Flint K-9 series came to me that way. Nearly twenty years ago, in fact, I believe that’s how Erin Solomon was born.


Do other writers go through this, or are all their mad morning ideas more fiction focused. Does Kate Flora, for instance, have wild plans for revolutionizing the American flower market through some growing secret she has yet to share with the rest of us? Is Susan Vaughan plotting real-life bank heists when the sun comes up? Or am I alone in questioning the financial viability of this path I’ve chosen, and looking for creative ways to supplement my income until the day something magically coalesces and all the bills are paid without a single early-morning thought as to where that money came from?


It’s now 5:51 a.m. at the homestead, and it appears I’ve run out of answers at this point. Instead, you’ll have to settle for a question: When do your moments of inspiration strike? Have you had a eureka moment that you did end up acting on? How did it turn out for you? Comment below, and let me know.


Jen Blood is the USA Today-bestselling author of the Erin Solomon Mysteries and the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue Mysteries. Learn more about her and her work at http://www.jenblood.com. 

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Published on August 21, 2018 03:34

August 19, 2018

Making Writing Space, Redux

We’re just back from our annual visit to beautiful Brooklin, Maine, the inspirational place I wrote about here on MCW three Augusts ago. We had two marvelous weeks there this year (which means, of course, twice the bracing swims, twice the stunning sunsets and twice the fabulous blueberry pie). Immersed in a new series, I also got twice as much writing done.


When I went back to read the post I wrote in 2015 about how it feels to be surrounded by E.B. White’s spirit when we visit Allen Cove, I realized I couldn’t say it better, so here it is again.  I hope you enjoy this August 12, 2015 post, and invite comments about the places that inspire you.


**


What happens to me when I cross the Piscataqua and plunge rapidly into Maine at a cost of seventy-five cents in tolls? I cannot describe it. I do not ordinarily spy a partridge in a pear tree, or three French hens, but I do have the sensation of having received a gift from a true love. And when, five hours later, I dip down across the Narramissic and look back at the tiny town of Orland, the white spire of its church against the pale-red sky stirs me in a way that Chartres could never do.”—E.B. White, Home-Coming, 1955


 I am lucky enough to live in Maine all the time and don’t have to cross the Piscataqua to make a pilgrimage to Allen Cove in Brooklin, Maine, where the incomparable E.B. White lived and wrote for so many years.


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E.B. White


But just as he did on his long rides from away, I feel a delicious anticipation when crossing the Narramissic River in the Hancock County town of Orland. From there it’s less than a half hour to the shore of Allen Cove, where I also lived once upon a time. My period of residence began eight years after the 1985 death of the famed essayist, author and authority on writerly style.


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The gravestones of Katharine and E.B. White, admirable, brilliant writers both.


In the mid-90s I lived in a rented cottage on the south side of E.B. and Katharine White’s former hayfield, across the road from their old saltwater farm. Though I had turned in my journalist’s badge by then, I still thought of myself as a writer, self-identity being a fairly fixed thing by the time you’re thirty-something. I was a recent law school grad, and had yet to realize that the legal and literate sides of my brain could sing—or at least hum—in harmony. Though the writer part of me was in a fallow period, I thought a lot about the man who used to live across the road. I bought and read as much of his work as I could find. (I later discovered Katharine White’s work, which is a blog post for another day.)


The summer folks who had bought the Whites’ farm urged me to hike around on the farm throughout the winter, and even loaned me a pair of snowshoes for that purpose. Without the smell of humans on the land, the deer would decimate the orchard, they said, so tromp around to your heart’s content. That’s how the Whites’ former place became mine to ramble during the cold weather months 20 years ago.


I was especially drawn to the converted boathouse on the shore of Allen Cove where E.B. White wrote. I spent considerable time peering through the window of his former writing space, studying its spare beauty.


Here’s how he described it:


The house in which I sit this morning was built to accommodate a boat, not a man, but by long experience I have learned that in most respects it shelters me better than the larger dwelling where my bed is, and which, by design, is a manhouse, not a boathouse. Here in the boathouse I am a wilder and, it would appear, a healthier man, by a safe margin. I have a chair, a bench, a table, and I can walk into the water if I tire of the land . . . A mouse and a squirrel share the house with me. The building is, in fact, a multiple dwelling, a semidetached affair. It is because I am semidetached while here that I find it possible to transact this private business with the fewest obstacles.—E.B. White, A Slight Sound At Evening, 1954.


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Semidetached in the boathouse


My visits to his former coveside writing space occurred at a time when I was unable to achieve the semidetachment necessary to make up my own stories. Yet I yearned for a physical and mental writing space of my own, on the shore of Allen Cove or any other shore for that matter. I was learning to be a lawyer in rural Maine, but my new profession still felt like playacting, and part of me wanted to be offstage, writing the lines.


Two decades later I have figured out that I’m capable of doing both. I am a lawyer and a crime writer. My writing space is nothing like the boathouse into which I peeked on those cold afternoons on the shore of Allen Cove. But like White, I write every day, and feel as though I’ve received a gift when I cross that little river on the journey back to Brooklin.


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A blueberry pie is always a gift


This year, two days after I delivered the manuscript for my third Joe Gale mystery, we pointed the car north and east and yelped with joy when we crossed the Narramissic. We only had a week, but boy, did we make the most of it in a modest rented cottage around Allen Cove from the Whites’ place.


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Allen Cove at sunset, August, 2015


We ate lots of blueberry pie. Took looooong swims in the cove when the tide was high. Hiked through hushed woodlands. Ate more pie. Sat in awe of sunsets that went on for an hour. Watched  a gang of greater yellowlegs dance along the shore. Listened for the nightly hermit thrush serenade while doing the supper dishes. Slept with the windows wide open to welcome the cool night breeze off the water. Ate still more pie.


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A greater yellowlegs sashaying along the shoreline


And every now and then I picked up the binoculars and reconnoitered the shoreline of the cove until E.B. White’s little boathouse came into focus, still standing for the proposition that every writer needs to find their own space to write.


Brenda Buchanan is the author of the Joe Gale Mystery Series, featuring a diehard Maine newspaper reporter who covers the crime and courts beat. Three books— QUICK PIVOT, COVER STORY and TRUTH BEAT—are available everywhere e-books are sold.  She is hard at work on a new series that has as its protagonist a Portland criminal defense lawyer willing to take on cases others won’t touch in a town to which she swore she would never return.


 

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Published on August 19, 2018 22:00

August 17, 2018

Weekend Update: August 18-19, 2018

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Brenda Buchanan (Monday) Jen Blood (Tuesday), Barb Ross (Wednesday), Lea Wait (Thursday), and Dick Cass (Friday).


In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:


 Maureen Milliken is happy to announce the publication date for BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST, the third in the Bernie O’Dea mystery series is October 31.


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When Appalachian Trail thru-hiker Lydia Manzo becomes lost in the woods and is found dead weeks later, it sets off a chain of events that upsets the fragile peace of  Redimere, Maine.  As newspaper editor Bernadette “Bernie” O’Dea tries to sort out the truth, Police Chief Pete Novotny also disappears into the woods. Maine’s northwestern High Peaks region can be a dark wilderness, but the woods suddenly seem very crowded as another too-hot summer of deceit and death simmers in Redimere, Maine.


BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST joins COLD HARD NEWS and NO NEWS IS BAD NEWS in the Franklin County, Maine-based series.


Maureen and Maine Crime Writer Jen Blood will also be at the Designing Women show in from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 25, at Longfellow’s Greenhouse in Manchester, Maine. The craft and arts show raises money for the local sexual assault advocacy program. Come on by for a great day and to say hi!


Lea Wait will be speaking about her latest books, and the research she does for them, at the Southport Memorial Library, Tuesday, August 21, at 7 p.m. [image error] DEATH AND A POT 0F CHOWDER, set on an island similar to Southport, will be her major subject, but she’ll also be talking about her two [image error]newest historicals for ages 8 and up — one of which, CONTRARY WINDS, is partially set in Boothbay and Wiscasset, Maine in 1777.


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


From Kaitlyn Dunnett: The large print edition of Crime & Punctuation is available now. It has a different cover from the other editions, but I like this one, too.


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An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.


And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

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Published on August 17, 2018 22:05

August 16, 2018

Using Local Events and Issues As A Plot

[image error]Vaughn Hardacker here: I am currently working on a new novel that deals with the Bald Mountain mine issue. For those of you who are not familiar with it, Bald Mountain (located in T12 R8, D-3 on map63 of DeLorme’s The Maine Atlas and Gazeteer) in close proximity to the Fish River, which feeds into the Fish River chain of lakes (Fish Lake, Portage Lake, St. Froid Lake, Eagle Lake, Square Lake, Cross Lake, Mud Lake, and Long Lake) before feeding into the Saint John River in Fort Kent. A company that was  once a small New Brunswick, Canada company has grown into a giant mega-corporation owning the timber and mining rights to over 500,000 acres of land in northern Maine. The geologist who determined that Bald Mountain is a site with deposits of copper, zinc, gold, and silver. However he also stated due to the massive quantities of iron sulfide (which creates sulfuric acid when exposed to air and water) and arsenic mining the site was too


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AMD in stream near Pittsburgh, PA.


risky from an environmental perspective. To get to the point, the potential for Acid Mine Drainage (AMD) is so high that the mine could be a major environmental disaster waiting to happen. Currently, Maine has the strictest mining laws in the United States and there is a major push in Augusta to ease them so that the mine can go forward.


This is an example of a local issue screaming to become a plot. Add the discovery of the body of a female state senator who is the key person holding the line against the Maine Department of Environmental Protection easing the mining regulations in the trunk of her car on the American Reality Road in the North Maine Woods and we are off and running (I’m currently approaching the 45,000 word mark).


Each and every one of us writers has been asked: “Where do you get your ideas?” I always respond the local and national news as well as controversial issues happening right in my back yard. So if you are like me and once you finish a book you spend time trying to come up with a new idea, talk to people in your neighborhood and learn what are the local issues that have them hot and bothered.


By the way, two mining companies have already studied Bald Mountain and both came to the conclusion that the potential for AMD getting into the ground water and our lakes and streams is far too great and the cost of clean up could be greater than the profit gained. Several  similar mines in Canada and the U. S. have turned into disasters and the estimate of the time until the sulfurous containing minerals are exhausted and the water is clean again could be hundreds or even thousands of years. (There is currently an AMD clean up project at the Iron Mountain mine near Redding, California that has cost $200,000,000 to date and scientists estimate that it will continue to produce AMD for 2,500 to 3,000 years.) They walked away from the project. What research I’ve done into the controversy has me concerned that factions within our state government will allow the mine to go forward. I for one have written to my local representatives in Augusta but have become aware that at least one of them has a personal interest in making sure that the project moves forward? I’ve always said that we have the best government that money can buy.

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Published on August 16, 2018 21:28

Weekend Update: August 18-19, 2018

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Brenda Buchanan (Monday) Jen Blood (Tuesday), Barb Ross (Wednesday), Lea Wait (Thursday), and Dick Cass (Friday).


In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:


 Maureen Milliken is happy to announce the publication date for BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST, the third in the Bernie O’Dea mystery series is October 31.


[image error]


When Appalachian Trail thru-hiker Lydia Manzo becomes lost in the woods and is found dead weeks later, it sets off a chain of events that upsets the fragile peace of  Redimere, Maine.  As newspaper editor Bernadette “Bernie” O’Dea tries to sort out the truth, Police Chief Pete Novotny also disappears into the woods. Maine’s northwestern High Peaks region can be a dark wilderness, but the woods suddenly seem very crowded as another too-hot summer of deceit and death simmers in Redimere, Maine.


BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST joins COLD HARD NEWS and NO NEWS IS BAD NEWS in the Franklin County, Maine-based series.


Maureen and Maine Crime Writer Jen Blood will also be at the Designing Women show in from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 25, at Longfellow’s Greenhouse in Manchester, Maine. The craft and arts show raises money for the local sexual assault advocacy program. Come on by for a great day and to say hi!


Lea Wait will be speaking about her latest books, and the research she does for them, at the Southport Memorial Library, Tuesday, August 21, at 7 p.m. [image error] DEATH AND A POT 0F CHOWDER, set on an island similar to Southport, will be her major subject, but she’ll also be talking about her two [image error]newest historicals for ages 8 and up — one of which, CONTRARY WINDS, is partially set in Boothbay and Wiscasset, Maine in 1777.


An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.


And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

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Published on August 16, 2018 00:58

August 15, 2018

Who needs a vacation when you live in Vacationland?

If I’m repeating myself, forgive me. I love Maine, you know I do. But don’t ask me what I did on my summer vacation, because I haven’t had one.


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At least I get to work from home a lot of the time, so it’s almost like having a vacation.


That hasn’t stopped everyone else. One of the issues with living in a beautiful village where the population doubles in the summer is that half the people are on vacation. As I write this, at 7:41 p.m., music is blaring from the place it blares from this time of night most nights. I can hear shouts and boat motors, probably from people parked in their boats listening to the blaring music.


Speaking of which, I haven’t seen much of the people from away who occasionally visit their house across the street this summer. There was one night, however — a week night — when a group of about two dozen Millenials spent the night blaring music and shouting the F word until 2:30 in the morning.


And it wasn’t even good music. Are the kids being ironic when they blare Steve Miller at 2 in the morning, or have they just been bombarded with so much mediocre music the past two decades that they think he rocks?


I went over there one night three years ago — it was September, time for this foolishness to be over — when the man of the house was in the garage, which has been converted to a “man cave,” blaring — I’m not making this up — The Golden Girls. I listened for two hours — laugh track blah blah blah laugh track blah blah blah — then about 12:30 a.m. went over with my maglite flashlight, a jacket thrown over my pjs, and told him I had to get up in five hours to work. He seemed startled. I’m not sure if it was by the sight of me, or the fact that, yes, people do work in this town.


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That’s right, don’t friggin’ wake me up. Took this selfie after I came back from scaring the hell out of the guy blaring The Golden Girls at 12:30 a.m. a couple Septembers ago.


So, to recap: Yes, the same house that kept me up on a work night blaring Steve Miller kept me up on a work night blaring The Golden Girls. To quote Dylan: If you don’t believe there’s a price for this sweet paradise, just remind me to show you the scars. (That’s Bob Dylan, not the guy who works the counter at Starbucks, kids).


His wife, the first time she backed into my neighbor’s mailbox and knocked it down, asked Dave (the neighbor) how often he’s here. “All the time,” Dave said. “I live here.”


In any case, I’m not complaining, even though it sounds like I am. It’s not lost on me that I get to spend my life in a spot that most people get to spend two weeks in and spend the other 50 weeks dreaming of being here.


And I get to work at home a lot of the time. And, I have to say, I don’t mind tooling around Maine for my job, either. There could be worse ways to make a living.


One recent day, I had to go to Millinocket and, even though my book is done, a character in the book drives from my fake town in Franklin County to Millinocket. I wondered what the  route was like.


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Went from Millinocket to Belgrade via Somerset and Franklin counties a couple weeks ago, and I don’t regret the detour. This, I believe, is Moscow, Maine. Route 16 and nothing but scenery.


So, yeah, a little out of my way, but I drove it anyway. I didn’t regret it. No blaring music here. No laugh track. No idling boats. Just Maine.


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I may not get any sleep, but I have a book! Yes I do. Take that, you loud vacationers.


Speaking of which, the third in the Bernie O’Dea mystery series. BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST is due out October 31. You know, the time of year it’s nice and quiet.

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Published on August 15, 2018 22:00

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