Lea Wait's Blog, page 285

Summer Is Here – So Are The Tourists

Jayne Hitchcock here – is it just me, or did Spring turn into Fall then magically into Summer? What crazy weather! Even so, the tourists are flocking to my town of York. We live on the main road to the beach and see them flying by the house on the weekends. School is running late this year, but by June 20th traffic will be crazy as usual.

What I love most about this time of year is when friends or family come to visit, such as my husband’s daughter, her boyfriend and his grandmother, yesterday. They drove from western Massachusetts and as soon as they got here, we decided on what to do for the day. First was the Wiggly Bridge and Steedman Woods. Our Siberian Husky, Phoebe (who you all know as the Cyber Crime Dog) recently had cataract surgery, so with the “cone of shame off” we brought her along. We walked all the way across to John Hancock’s Wharf and the George Marshall Store & Gallery. They were taking pictures like crazy. My husband and I enjoyed being “tour guides.” It’s always kind of fun to see your town through someone else’s eyes.

We got some subs from Hannaford, ate, then headed over to York’s Animal Kingdom (I remember it being the Wild Animal Kingdom when I was a wee one) for a round of mini golf. Nothing like a little competition and people watching to get you going, ha ha!

After that, they wanted to shop for souvenirs, so my husband and I would wait outside the shops they went into and talked to local merchants we knew. All the while, I was people watching, cataloguing accents, phrases, clothing, attitudes, etc for possible future use in my writing. Who says writers aren’t always “on point?”

We caved in at the Kettle Boys and got some pizza flavored popcorn and bacon horseradish – should be interesting. Talked to the owner – he seemed relieved to talk to locals.

Do you get the same feeling where you live? It’s kind of like a secret society, isn’t it?

If you live in a touristy town, do you do the same thing when you have visitors? Have you used any of your people watching in your stories?

And people always wonder where I get my ideas from.

P.S. Phoebe is doing great – surgery went well and she can see again. We only opted for it because she was just eight years old. If you want to follow the whole saga, check out a page we did for her (and please share if you can).

Weekend Update: June 13-14, 2015

Next week at Maine Crime Writers there will be posts by Jayne Hitchcock (Monday), Lea Wait (Tuesday), Barb Ross (Wednesday), Vaughn Hardacker (Thursday) and Dorothy Cannell (Friday).

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

Sunday, June 14, (also known at tomorrow if you read this on Saturday) at 2 p.m. Kate Flora, Dorothy Cannell and Lea Wait will be speaking at the Liberty Library (in Liberty, Maine) as part of the library’s “Death and Desserts” program.  Shall we guess chocolate may also be involved? Plus, books will be available for purchase and signing.

Monday morning, June 15, Lea Wait will be taking students from the Bristol Consolidated School on a tour of the old jail in Wiscasset, and then leading them on a tour of Wiscasset locations that appear in her books for young people, especially UNCERTAIN GLORY.

Friday, June 19th, Barb Ross, Kate Flora, and Brenda Buchanan will be at the Curtis Memorial Library in Brunswick, Maine at 7:00 p.m.

Some photos for last week’s author adventures, including Maureen Milliken’s book launch at the amazing Press Hotel in Portland, and Kate Flora’s visit to the Jessup Library in Bar Harbor.

The wall of typewriters in the Press Hotel lobby

 

 

 

 

 

Maureen’s amazing cake, made by her sister

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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: mailto: kateflora@gmail.com

 

The Tao of Networking

Howdy, Maine crime folk! Chris Holm here. I’m glad I got all that awkward introductory stuff out of the way in my first post as a Maine Crime Writers regular, because that clears the decks for me to talk turkey (and, apparently, mix metaphors) today.

Paneling it up with Kate, Ann, Barbara, and Barbara.

At this year’s Maine Crime Wave, I was lucky enough to participate in a fantastic business-of-writing panel alongside MCW’s own Kate Flora and Barbara Ross, as well as agent Ann Collette and bookseller Barbara Kelly. And predictably, the conversation turned to social media and networking.

As writers, we’re told we need to be on Twitter, and Facebook, and KikSnap, and Tumblr, and Friendroid, and Tubesville, and okay fine I made a few of those up, although there’s still a chance your writing career is suffering because you’re not on them. But while our cup overfloweth with advice about how not to behave (most of which boils down to DON’T BE A HUMAN SPAMBOT—advice that too often goes ignored), nobody really tells us what we should be doing.

The best advice that I could give you about networking is STOP TRYING TO NETWORK. If the goal is to connect with people who like the sorts of things you like, just go be you and it’ll happen.

“But Chris,” you might reply, “that sounds kinda hippie-dippie, and doesn’t address the fact that WHAT I REALLY WANT IS THESE PEOPLE TO DO MY BIDDING MWAHAHAHAHA!” Well, Somewhat Maniacal Hypothetical Objector, I respectfully disagree; I think my advice actually is the best way to get folks on social media to do your bidding. And because my brain’s been warped by nearly four decades of obsessive pop-culture consumption, allow me to use an obscure fifteen-year-old indie rom-com to explain why.

In my whole life, I’ll never once look this cool.

In The Tao of Steve, Donal Logue plays a schlubby, pot-smoking underachiever named Dex who, surprisingly, has quite an active love life (read: he’s a pick-up artist with a knack for dating above his station). He owes his success to a philosophy he calls the Tao of Steve, which he gleaned from the holy trinity of Steve Austin (The Six Million Dollar Man), Steve McGarrett (Hawaii Five-O), and, above all, Steve McQueen. As Dex claims, “Steve is the prototypical cool American male… He has his own code of honor, his own code of ethics, his own rules of living, man. He never, ever tries to impress the women but he always gets the girl.”

His Tao of Steve strikes me as a good way to approach social media. It breaks down into three simple steps:

1) Be desireless. Dex insists potential partners “can smell an agenda like shit on a shoe.” So it is with fellow writers, agents, and editors on social media. The default assumption when someone friends or follows is that they want something. Prove that assumption wrong in the near term, and you’re already ahead of the pack.

“If you think I’m cute, please consider giving my book five stars on Goodreads.”

2) Be excellent. This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Do something awesome in your new social media friend’s presence. That could mean hyping his or her books, or simply saying how much you enjoyed them. It could mean sharing links to cool stories, or posting adorable pics of your teacup pig. Interpret widely, and have fun with it. But—and this is important—be mindful to never not be excellent. Don’t whine, spam, or talk smack. People notice. Try to keep your neurotic meltdowns (we all have ’em) offline.

3) Be gone. As Dex says, “We pursue that which retreats from us.” Make your interactions meaningful, engaging, and brief. If someone’s responsive to your overtures on social media, try not to inundate them with @ messages and Facebook tags. And if you find yourself wondering how much is too much, see points one and two. If you’re failing at either, you’re probably overdoing it.

You’ll note none of the above steps involve asking for anything. What they do is help foster relationships whereby people might be inclined to boost the signal when you do (sparingly) engage in self-promotion, or to say yes should you (eventually, politely) ask a favor.

It’s worth noting that, because The Tao of Steve is a romantic comedy, Dex (warning: fifteen-year-old spoilers follow) ultimately learns the error of his shallow pick-up-artist ways, and winds up ditching his schtick in an attempt to build a meaningful relationship. Ideally, we’d all do the same on social media. But if the number of auto-DMs (don’t do that) and unsolicited newsletters (double-don’t do that) I receive every week are any indication, I wouldn’t bet on it.

Chris Holm’s latest, THE KILLING KIND (coming in September from Mulholland Books), is a thriller about a hitman who only hits other hitmen. David Baldacci called it “a story of rare, compelling brilliance.” If you follow Chris on Twitter, or like his page on Facebook, he might remind you of that a time or two, but he promises he won’t auto-message you or anything.

Pounding Pegs—An Experience in Living History

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here. Not far from my home in western Maine is the Washburn-Norlands Living History Center, a working farm where visitors of all ages can experience what life was like in the nineteenth century. They can stay for an hour or two or participate in a live-in. School programs run regularly during the school year, giving young people the chance to take on the roles of farm children in a simpler time. The library is available to researchers writing about the period. Classes are taught in the one-room schoolhouse.

For many years, the historic buildings on this property, formerly the home of the Washburn family, consisted of a 1867 mansion, a farmer’s cottage, a 1883 library, a 1828 meeting house, and a 1853 schoolhouse. Following standard practice here in Maine, where you do not want to have to go outside in winter just to feed the animals, an ell connected the mansion to the barn. On April 28, 2008, a fire broke out in that barn. Only extensive pre-planning on the part of local fire departments prevented a worse disaster, but both the barn and the farmer’s cottage were destroyed.

There was never any question that what had been lost would be rebuilt. What took time was raising enough money for the project and finding the right people to create an accurate reproduction of what had existed in the nineteenth century. The farmer’s cottage was rebuilt in 2011. In late May of this year, work started on the barn. At the official barn-raising ceremonies, a number of the pegs to be used in the construction were pounded in by Norlands personnel, most of whom are volunteers.

Pictures, as they say, sometimes speak louder than words. In addition to the ones here, you can see more, and videos, at the Norlands facebook page

 

Fundraising continues, not only to rebuild the barn but also to continue the wonderful programs Norlands offers. This coming weekend, June 13 and 14, is the 5th Rally for Norlands, a Civil War Reenactment Weekend. This event features reenactors from Norlands and from the 3rd Maine Co. A and the 15th Alabama Co. G, as well as period crafters and exhibitors. There will be civilian and infantry encampments, a Civil War battle, a field hospital, field music, a blacksmith, a 19th century fashion show, storytelling, and a Town Ball game (the forerunner of baseball), plus all the permanent attractions of the living history center. Gates open at 9AM at 290 Norlands Road, Livermore, Maine 04253. For more information, the website is http://www.norlands.org

refreshments at the barn raising

 

library and schoolhouse from the deck of the barn

one of the few shady spots on barn raising day

When a book completely nails it

John Clark talking about the effect one book had on me a couple weeks ago and why.

Looking back, perhaps one of the quotes that best describes the ’60s for me would be the opening lines of A Tale of Two Cities. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity…” I was impulsive, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because it netted me some amazing experiences and the memories to go with them.

During the summer of 1969, I was home from Arizona State and part of a crew painting the old draw bridge in Bath that spanned the Kennebec River. Most of us working that summer were college students, liberal, no strangers to recreational drug use and into rock music. When one of the crew brought a flyer to work advertising a three day music festival in Woodstock, NY, a bunch of us bought tickets and when the time came, we cut work on a Friday morning and took off for New York around midnight on Thursday.

We got there relatively early and were able to park pretty close to where the entrance gate was located. After handing over our tickets, we grabbed programs, bought blotter acid and headed for the stage area. That afternoon, we were able to sit very close to the performers and I remember feeling extremely mellow about half an hour after letting the acid dissolve under my tongue. It was warm, sunny and the rapidly swelling crowd was in a terrific mood. At one point, someone announced that there was a batch of brown acid going around that was pretty bad and should be avoided. A couple moments later, some dude five rows behind me flipped out and cartwheeled through the crowd, landing with his head by my feet. I remember looking at him and saying something profound like, “Got one of the bad hits, eh?”

At the beginning

When the festival closed for the night, we headed back to the car and I ended up sleeping in the trunk with the lid down, but not closed because it was raining. When we headed back the next morning, the crowd had swollen to a point where it was almost impossible to stay together as a group. I lost contact with the rest of the bridge crew, but there was so much going on and the energy level was so high, I wasn’t concerned and, besides, I knew where the car was. Big mistake. By the time I went looking for the it that night, it had been moved and with the crowd now at half a million, there was no way to find anyone. Even then, it didn’t really matter because I was having the adventure of a lifetime. The music was live and nonstop, comprised of almost every group I could possibly want to see. Sweetwater was awesome (I saw them later that fall when they were the lead act for the Doors and they stole the show), Joan Baez was equally mesmerizing, Joe Cocker, Mountain, Richie Havens, Ravi Shankar, the list went on and on. One of my most vivid memories was sitting on the hill above the stage, sharing a joint of homegrown with a guy from North Carolina who was AWOL from the army and watching the White Rabbit cavort around in the night sky while Jefferson Airplane played. That was followed very closely when Country Joe MacDonald stopped everyone in their tracks when he stepped up to the mike and hollered “Give Me an F.” The only other thing I’ve ever heard that sounded anywhere near as powerful as that crowd doing the Fish Cheer is the live start of a NASCAR race.

Since I had no way home and the music was going to continue, I went over to where the Hog Farm folks were and volunteered to help get food ready. The feeling of camaraderie, coupled with the sheer size of the crowd and the good vibrations everyone was sending out, made it almost impossible to worry about anything. I remember when the crew filming the festival ignored us as we were frantically working to make sure everyone got fed, we started our own, very loud ‘Bullshit’ chant. I also got to hang out by the Dayglow bus where Ken Kesey and the Grateful Dead were. It put real meaning in the saying “You’re either on the bus, or off the bus.”

Still true today

Late on Saturday, I was walking through the patch of woods that divided where the Hog Farm was and the field where the performers were. I heard someone call my name and looked up to see two guys I hung out with who were from Camden. They had hitched down to the festival. We made arrangements to meet at intervals by the Hog Farm area so we could return to Maine together.

I have never seen as sudden and wild a storm as the one that passed over us on Sunday. The clouds were roiling so fiercely that they seemed to have their own malevolent intelligence. When it started to rain, there was no possibility of staying dry. People began dancing around a giant mound of garbage in the field, getting soaked and muddy, but having a ball. I joined in and it didn’t take long to feel like I was part of something cosmic and far bigger than myself.

When the three of us decided to start back to Maine, the number of people who were trying to find a ride was so large, we ended up walking miles before any cars passed us that weren’t filled to the gills with tired and very odiferous people. We were fortunate in that we made it back home after only three different rides. I was toasted, but had the people who were heading to Camden drop me off at the bridge where I more or less dozed as I sat in the safety boat, waiting for someone to fall into the river.

 

Hello Muddah

That music festival made it extremely difficult to get excited about any concert for years and I remember parts of the weekend as if they happened yesterday. A few weeks ago, I read a review of a new young adult book, Three Day Summer by Sarvenaz Tash that was about two teens whose paths cross at Woodstock. I was particularly intrigued by one review that raved about how well the author re-created the atmosphere surrounding it, so I ordered the book. If anything, the reviewer understated how well that aspect of the book is. This is particularly impressive because she was born in the Middle East and is in her mid-twenties. I’ve included my review below so you can understand why I’m so impressed. In fact, I re-read it yesterday afternoon on the train from Vancouver to Kamloops and liked it more the second time. If you were a part of the Woodstock generation, treat yourself by reading it. If you weren’t and want to get an excellent feel for that piece of American culture, I suggest this as a great way to understand it.

I have to say right up front that this book was like my own personal time machine. As with Michael, the male protagonist, I had no clue what would happen when I heard about this awesome three day music festival in New York State.

Michael is piloting his mom’s purple Chrysler, his bossy girlfriend Amanda and a couple friends with him. He’s already ambivalent about his relationship, but hasn’t had a chance to get it together and break things off. He’s also conflicted about the war, his relationship with his parents and whether he wants to go to college. The closer they get to the festival, the more they begin realizing that this is way bigger than anyone ever imagined. The car overheats, so they abandon it in the middle of the road and hike the last five miles to Max Yazgur’s farm.

Meanwhile Cora, who lives right near the festival site, entertains dreams of becoming a doctor, but knows that there’s a big prejudice against female physicians, something even her father shares, She’s going to volunteer at the medical tent with a nurse she helps in her role as a candy striper. She’s got a lot on her mind. Ned, the boy she gave her heart to, broke up with her a while ago, but works on her dad’s farm, so he’s never far from her thoughts. Wes, her younger brother is involved in the anti-war movement, while her older brother is in the military in Vietnam and every letter he sends to his siblings sounds more desperate.

The man was awesome!

When Michael takes a hit of brown acid, he flips out and his friends bring him to the medical tent where Cora is assigned to monitor him while he comes down. Over the several hours it takes to get him close to clear-headed, something happens between them, partly sparked by his hallucinations, but also my the way each listens to the other in ways both crave, but seldom get from others.

Cora is so busy she doesn’t have time to ponder the effect Michael had on her at first. Michael, on the other hand, is feeling a surreal connection because of the way he saw her while tripping. Besides, he’s lost his friends and despite his best efforts, can’t find them in the huge crowd. He returns to the medical tent at seven, the time Cora gets off duty and invites her to stay and listen to some of the music with him. She’s about to say no when her ex-wanders up, asking if she’s ready to head home.

Cora’s no becomes a yes, signaling the beginning of behavior that’s completely out of character for her, as well as a relationship with a guy who already has a girlfriend and lives a couple hundred miles away. Add in her father’s going ballistic attitude toward the concertgoers, Michael’s incredible knowledge of most of the bands playing, completely ‘you are there’ vignettes from the event and you have a super story about two likable teens at the biggest concert ever.

I loved this book, not only because of the chemistry between the two main characters, but because on almost every page, something happened that took me back to the moment it was capturing. I heartily agree with the reviewer who said that the author brought the festival to life. She absolutely nailed it as far as I’m concerned. I’d love to see this book in as many public and school libraries as possible because it brings to life an event that most teens know nothing about as well as highlighting many of the tensions families faced during the Vietnam era. The amazing chemistry between Cora and Michael is another big plus for this book.

Never Say Never: The Mystery Series That Almost Wasn’t

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here, welcoming a return visit from Maine writer Kelly McClymer. Kelly has a new project that should interest fans of Maine mysteries.

Never Say Never: The Mystery Series That Almost Wasn’t

by

Kelly McClymer

First, I want to thank Kathy Lynn Emerson for inviting me to share about my mystery series. I have always admired the way she weaves history and mystery together. Kathy and I have known each other for a long time. For most of that time I have insisted I could never, ever, ever write a mystery.

I’m not 100% sure I have, yet, but I certainly came closer than I ever thought I would with my new Secret Shopper Mom Mystery series starring Maine mom Molly Harbison. Molly is a wife and mother who takes up mystery shopping to supplement the family income without becoming a slave to the 9-to-5 work world.

Shop and Let Die, the first book in the series, did not start life as a mystery. It started life as a women’s fiction novel about a Maine mom, Molly, who is trying to find a job that she can work in around home and family duties. Molly discovers mystery shopping — short jobs that can be scheduled around soccer practice, doctor’s appointments, and sick days.

To research the mystery shopping job Molly uses to earn extra money around the rest of her busy life, I took up mystery shopping. It was an eye-opening experience. I learned:

Mystery shopping is a real job (lots of people think it is a scam)
It is easier to get jobs in bigger urban areas, but there are a surprisingly large number of jobs for mystery shoppers in Maine.
A mystery shopper needs to be as stealthy and observant as Harriet the Spy…and, just like Harriet, make sure her (very detailed) notes never come to the attention of the people she is spying on.
Mystery shop jobs do not pay well, and have lots, and lots (and lots) of rules about how long to stay, what to say, and how specific to be on each observation.
A well-run business pays attention to the little details (and pays for mystery shoppers to do random inspections and make note of things like whether the parking lot has any litter).
The first rule of mystery shopping is “Don’t talk about mystery shopping.” (and yes, I am breaking that…but in the name of fiction all should be forgiven).

I had a lot of fun with this — at the time — women’s fiction novel, using elements of my own life and community, and my own angst about my imperfect juggling of home, family, and work. Sadly, I couldn’t interest an editor in Molly’s story, so I shelved it and I went on to write my Salem Witch Tryouts YA series for Simon & Schuster.

When the indie publishing movement came, I realized it would be perfect for Molly’s story, so I dusted off the manuscript and started revising.

At some point in the revision process, I realized that there should be a mystery in mystery shopping (duh). I fought that realization for a while, firmly believing that I could not write a mystery. But then I gave in. Molly’s shopping stakes got a lot higher when a serial killer started target mall shoppers, and the plot thickened quickly: enter handsome FBI agent James Connery, and soon Molly was trying to find a serial killer.

I’ve just published the second mystery in the series, License to Shop. Molly gives in to the pressure from her husband to get a “real” job, begins job hunting at her husband’s university, juggles a visit from her critical mother, and ends up helping the FBI find the leader of an identity theft ring. Once again, I got to use elements from my real life (I have worked at university jobs on and off since I was an undergraduate).

The third installment in the series, The Mall is not Enough, will come out this fall. I wish I could show off the cover, but it isn’t quite finished yet. In this story, Molly adds sweepstakes to the mystery shopping mix, to help balance the family budget. Currently, I am doing my hands-on research on sweepstakes (fascinating!).

The nice thing about indie publishing this series is that I don’t have to worry about trying to fit it into a narrow genre niche. Or even go out of my way to find readers for it yet. I want to have four books out in the series before I do much promotion. I know that when I, as a reader, discover a series, I really like to be able to binge read.

The other nice thing about indie publishing is that I can offer a sale price whenever I want (Shop and Let Die is 99 cents until June 9th, in honor of this guest appearance).

The absolute best thing about indie publishing is that I can dip my toe into the mystery waters with this series, and still draw on my own experiences as a wife, mother, and mystery shopper. The series will be able to explore how a Maine mom struggles to find a way to balance home, family, mystery shopping, and the occasional work with the FBI. True to her “spirit parents” (Harriet the Spy and James Bond), Molly is making her Maine town better, one mystery — and a dozen mystery shops — at a time.

Kelly McClymer has been published in several genres, including historical romance and contemporary YA. She and her husband live north of Bangor. For those who want to read her new Mystery Shopper Mom series, here is the link to  Shop and Let Die

 

Weekend Update: June 6-7, 2015

Next week at Maine Crime Writers there will be posts by special guest Kelly McClymer (Monday), John Clark (Tuesday), Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett (Wednesday), Chris Holm (Thursday) and Vicki Doudera (Friday).

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

from Lea Wait: I’ve been working on a couple of self-publishing projects (stay tuned for details!) and writing the next in the Shadows series.

from Kaitlyn Dunnett: Ever wonder what “Maine humor” is? Click on Maine humor to read an example of one form of it from a local columnist who specializes in taking potshots at politics and other absurdities. As for me, I’m working on a proposal for a new cozy series, while alter ego Kathy Lynn Emerson is now heavily into research for the third Mistress Jaffrey mystery.

from Barb Ross: On June 11, at 7:00 pm, I’ll be with my fellow Wicked Cozy Authors helping Ray Daniel kick off the release of his new Tucker mystery, Corrupted Memory at the New England Mobile Book Fair in Newton Highlands, Massachusetts.

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: mailto: kateflora@gmail.com

History in the Obituaries

Susan Vaughan here.

Some people may feel that unless you know someone who has recently passed away, browsing the obituaries in the local newspapers (yes, print media!) is morbid. But I find I can learn a lot about history and people’s lives in the obits. Yes, the obituaries of famous people may catch many people’s attention, but often the stories of ordinary people’s lives, their work history, their contributions to their communities and to the country are more revealing of our past—and often colorful.

Obituaries often reveal something about the departed by their nicknames, such as Hopper, Bunty, Leaky Boot, Lone Wolf, and Ducky. Too bad the obits don’t usually explain the origins of these. I’m especially drawn to obituaries of people who’ve lived a very long time. Memorial Day 2015 is behind us, but the obituaries of those who experienced World War II either by serving in the military or by supporting the troops are in the newspaper every day. Here are snippets from the obituaries of four people, and I hope if anyone recognizes them, they’ll understand that my sharing is with respect and appreciation for lives well lived.

The life of M.H., who lived to be 97, is a snapshot of history and a woman’s independence. In 1936, she traveled to Europe on the maiden voyage of the French Line’s S/S Normandie, which was then the world’s largest passenger vessel. Two years later, she completed a commercial design program, which led to an art career. Marriage and four children didn’t slow her down. She participated in the “Bundles for Britain” program and, while her husband served in WWII, worked in a Western Union office in Manhattan. Later, when the family moved to Maine, she worked as a draftsperson for the state and continued taking art courses and organizing them for others until 2003.

Then there’s R.B., who passed away at 92. Immediately after high school, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps as a pilot during WWII. This obit caught my eye because my father was also a pilot then in the Army Air Corps, which would later become the U.S. Air Force. My father was luckier than R.B., whose bomber was shot down over Belgium. Members of the Resistance hid him, but he was later captured by the Germans and held prisoner until his Stalag was liberated in 1945. Later, R.B. married his high-school sweetheart, completed university and graduate degrees, taught for many years, and owned a charter boat and a campground.

The photo of V.V. in her WAC (Woman’s Army Corps) uniform drew me to her obituary. This woman was apparently never still. Following high school, she completed a commerce course and a Certified Nursing Assistant course, and then joined the WACs, serving during WWII. After marriage and children, she again served as a nurse until retirement.

I sometimes run across Maine “characters” in the obituaries, such as D.M. Another military veteran, he served in the U.S. Marine Corps, but after WWII. In the obit, friends describe him as a born wit and raconteur, but also a man who liked to escape civilization by camping, fishing, and hunting. He was a registered Maine Guide with encyclopedic knowledge of the natural world and local lore.

If anyone has further insights into what we can learn from obituaries, please share.

***

On Deadly Ground is now available at most online retailers. Ring of Truth, still only on Amazon (http://amzn.to/13RNhQv). More information about my books is at www.susanvaughan.com.

The Underappreciated Benefits of Being Unpublished

(Kate Flora here, in for Al today, with apologies for posting twice in one week) Now that’s a crazy assertion, isn’t it? In a world full of people striving to be published, stacking up rejection letters, desperately searching  for an agent, and falling into the slough of despond whenever they get that terse “no thanks” or “not right for our list” how could there possibly be anything good about being unpublished?

But there is. While you’re in the unpublished writer’s corner, the relationship is just between you and your work. It has a kind of uninterrupted intensity and a kind of purity that will never exist again. You control the story, you shape your characters, the work is entirely the product of your imagination. And why is this special? Because once your work is in the hands of agents, editors, and readers, that intimate, private, sometimes obsessive relationship with your story and characters is changed.

Agents may want changes. Editors almost certainly will. And while it’s true that a good editorial agent or a good editor can make us better writers, it is here that you begin to share ownership of your story. Someone else’s vision intrudes. Someone else’s opinions matter. Someone else is suggesting changes. Very often for the better. But now it is no longer you and your imagination and that empty screen you are filling with story. Now someone else is imagining your characters and tweaking your plot. Now it is a shared storytelling.

And then the thing you’ve always dreamed of happens: the story is published. And now you become part of a writing triangle. There is your relationship with your characters and story. There is a new world of readers who develop relationships with your characters and story. And your readers begin to develop a relationship with you and work. Much in the way that having a child changes the family dynamic, publishing your work and sending it out into the world changes the writerly dynamic. In our world, especially when we’re writing a mystery series, the way that readers development relationships with our characters is something we will ever after have to consider as we write.

Not convinced that there could be anything good about being unpublished? How about the way your time will fragment. What about publicity, promotion, speaking, blogging, working social media, and learning to do the “buy my book” dance. It all takes time. Lots and lots of time. Years ago, the writer might be able to write for nine months and promote for three. These days, the promotion side never goes away. Publish your first book and now you have a whole new, time-consuming job: marketing.

Last, but far from least, is the dreaded deadline. That first book was leisurely. There may have been intensity in the writing, but basically, you had all the time in the world to imagine it, shape it, and edit it. But now, if the world of publication has been kind, publishing a book will mean you have to produce a second book, and this time, you’ll only have a year. Not two or three or five or ten or the lifetime that led up to that first one. And that year will be complicated by the aforementioned marketing.

So, disbelievers, sit back for a moment, take a deep breath, and consider. Maybe there is something about life in the unpublished writer’s corner that isn’t so miserable after all.

Fictional Murder More Common in Maine than the Real Thing

By Brenda Buchanan

Last week when I was speaking about my debut murder mystery Quick Pivot at the Portland Public Library, a reader observed that there are an awful lot of Maine crime writers, despite our state’s enviable place at the low-end of the crime statistical graphs. He’s right, of course. We don’t write what we know, we write what we imagine. And, oh, what terrifying imaginations we have.

An arsonist has several people in his sights in Gerry Boyle’s Once Burned. There’s unexplained death and plenty of bad motives in Maureen Milliken’s to-be-released-this-week debut Cold, Hard News. Sarah Graves knocks people off in spectacular fashion in her newest, Winter at the Door. And in a couple of weeks Mike Bowditch fans will be caught up in a story about murder in the spooky woods of the AT when Paul Doiron’s latest, The Precipice, is released.

The litany of names that kill on the page goes on from there. Flora (big shout out to Kate for her second Maine Literary Award for And Grant You Peace.) Emerson/Dunnett. Holm. Hayman. Wait. Cannell.  Lynds. Hardacker. Page. Corrigan. Gerritsen. Spencer-Fleming. Vaughan. Clark. Lamanda. Ross. The most diabolical plotter of all, Mr. Stephen King. And on, and on.

Considering how much we write about it, Maine isn’t a murderous place. We’re down there at the bottom of the statistical heap along with Vermont and New Hampshire, all three Northern New England states having annual murder rates in the range of 1.6 to 1.8 per 100,000 people. This compares to a national average of about 4.7 per 100,000 people.

The Way Life Should Be, indeed.

But sometimes murder does come home to Maine, and it always is shocking.

Last week a young man—only 19 years old—was shot to death in Portland. The killing happened late on Memorial Day, a block and a half from my office in the heart of the Old Port. When I arrived at work Tuesday morning, police cruisers blocked Market Street from Exchange to Commercial. Yellow crime scene tape was everywhere.

After a week of vigils, Treyjon Arsenault’s funeral was held Monday in Scarborough. Police haven’t made an arrest yet. The pressure on them is immense to get it right, to make sure the evidence will support a conviction.

Most of our murders are solved—sometimes by the kind of extraordinary police work recounted in the Edgar-nominated true crime book Finding Amy, co-authored by former Portland Deputy Police Chief Joseph Loughlin and the aforementioned Kate Flora—though occasionally they are not. The tragic case of 20-month old Ayla Reynolds, the Waterville toddler who has been missing since December, 2011, comes first to mind.

A high percentage of murders in Maine are tied to domestic violence. A growing number are drug-connected. Those two particular epidemics are as prevalent here as they are across the country.

But in the scheme of things, we live in a tremendously safe place. There’s plenty of petty crime. There’s a fair amount of stupid crime. Sometimes there’s even hilarious crime. But there’s not a lot of serious crime, and in that, we are fortunate.

It is my belief that crime novels serve an important and cathartic purpose in our society. Most of the time at least, our stories end with resolution. Moral dilemmas are resolved. Bad guys are caught. Order is restored. It would be good if this were the case in the real world.

So why are there so many Maine writers plotting dark deeds in our novels? I have no explanation, but welcome your thoughts in the comments.