Edith Maxwell's Blog, page 216

A Wicked Welcome to Carolyn Marie Wilkins

I’m thrilled to welcome Carolyn Marie Wilkins to the blog! Carolyn writes the Bertie Bigelow series. The second book in the series, Mojo for Murder, came out this fall. Welcome to the blog Carolyn!

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[image error]When Julie asked me to write about my Bertie Bigelow mystery novels for this blog, I immediately churned out a stream of words. The following day I read what I’d written, threw it out, and started again. By the end of the week I’d given birth to ten pages of bad writing and a splitting headache.

That’s when I realized that my main character wanted to talk to you in her own voice. Her name is Bertie Bigelow. She’s a forty-something African American choir director who teaches at a community college on the South Side of Chicago. She’s also an amateur sleuth with a lot on her mind.

My name is Bertie Bigelow and I am beyond thrilled to be a guest on your blog. Truth be told, I could use the company. Don’t get out like I used to since my husband Delroy passed away two years ago.

My friends tell me I need to socialize more – maybe even start dating again. At the moment, I’m too busy getting my choir ready for the Metro College Christmas Concert to contemplate that kind of foolishness.

This year’s concert has got to be good, really good. On the South Side of Chicago, my choir has a reputation to uphold. A reputation that was nearly ruined last year when my student LaShawn Thomas cussed out a Chicago City Councilor in the middle of our concert. By Martin Luther King Day, there was a murderer lurking among us. I was the one who ended up catching the killer, but I don’t like to toot my own horn. My friends are starting to call me “the black Miss Marple.” Can you imagine?

The South Side of Chicago

This Christmas, I do not plan on solving any murders. I’ll stop by Charley Howard’s Hot Links Emporium on New Year’s Eve for some fried chicken and plate of his Good Luck Black-eyed Peas. Charley calls himself The Hot Sauce King. He looks ridiculous in the checked flannel shirts and farm-boy overalls he wears, but there’s not a man or woman south of Roosevelt Avenue fool enough to say so. The man’s got one hell of a temper. There’s even a rumor going around that he’s connected to the Mob. Don’t let that keep you away, though. The Hot Sauce King can flat-out cook and that’s a fact.

Since you’ve been nice enough to invite me to your blog, I’m going to let you have Charley’s secret recipe for New Year’s Good Luck Blackeyed Peas.

[image error]NEW YEAR’S GOOD LUCK BLACKEYED PEAS

1 cup dried black-eyed peas

3 cups chicken broth

1 large can stewed tomatoes

1 onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic

1 bay leaf

1 tbsp Italian seasoning

1 tbsp Adobo seasoning

1tsp red pepper

½ pound fatback, aka salt pork (if you like, you can substitute ½ lb bacon or smoked turkey meat)

Wash peas and soak overnight until plump.

Dice pork into1 inch cubes and sauté in olive oil in a heavy cast-iron pot until lightly browned.

Add onion, garlic, seasonings and one cup broth Bring to a rolling boil, then cover and simmer about 15 minutes.

Add beans, tomatoes, and remaining broth. Bring to a full boil. Cover and simmer 2-4 hours, adding more liquid if needed.

Season with Howard’s Heavenly Hot Sauce to taste and serve over rice. Red Devil Sauce will work just fine if they don’t sell Charley’s products where you live.

If you do make this for New Year’s dinner, keep it on the down-low, okay? The Hot Sauce King finds out, he’s liable to blow a gasket!

 

BIO:

[image error]As a kid growing up on the South Side of Chicago, Carolyn Marie Wilkins dreamed of singing backup for Aretha Franklin while becoming the next Agatha Christie. Although she’s still waiting for Aretha to call, Carolyn is now the author of five books. Mojo For Murder and Melody For Murder feature the crime-fighting exploits of Bertie Bigelow, a forty-something choir director and amateur sleuth living on the South Side of Chicago. Carolyn’s nonfiction work includes They Raised Me Up: A Black Single Mother and the Women Who Inspired Her; Damn Near White: An African American Family’s Rise from Slavery to Bittersweet Success, and Tips For Singers: Performing, Auditioning, Rehearsing.

An accomplished jazz vocalist and professor at Berklee College of Music, Carolyn has performed on TV and radio with her group SpiritJazz, toured South America as a Jazz Ambassador for the US State Department, and played for shows featuring Melba Moore, Nancy Wilson, and the Fifth Dimension. When she’s not in the classroom or writing her next mystery novel, Carolyn can be found hanging out in the jazz clubs around Boston, MA.

Readers, Carolyn will give one commenter a PDF of her book!

Filed under: Guest posts, Uncategorized Tagged: Carolyn Marie Wilkins, Mojo for Murder

Being Crafty

Susannah/Sadie/Jane here, taking a break from last minute online shopping…

Hello, all. Hope your holidays, however, whatever, and whenever you celebrate, are bringing you much joy.

We talk a lot about the craft of writing here at the Wickeds. But today let’s talk craft of a different kind: handicrafts! As satisfying as it is for me to write stories, and to edit stories for other people, sometimes there’s just no substitute for making a physical object–something useful, beautiful, or just plain fun. So here’s a crafty pattern, with a variation, for you to try:

SADIE’S CANDLE COZIES

For the knitted version, which you can easily make in an hour, you will need:

-Size 13 knitting ne[image error]edles

-Bulky weight yarn, about 10 or 12 yards

-A pint-size mason jar, or any glass jar that’s about 5 inches high with a circumference of about 9 inches. Cozy will stretch.

-Small flameless candle

Gauge is not important. Cast on 26 stitches. Row 1: K1, P1 across. Row 2: P1, K1 across.[image error]

Repeat these two rows until piece measures 5”. Bind off, and sew shorter edges together into a tube. Place tube on jar. Decorate with ribbon, tiny Christmas ornaments, or bits of greenery. Place flameless candle inside and enjoy.

 

For you non-knitters (Gasp!), here’s another version, using a doily. It will take about 60 seconds to make. You will need:

[image error]          -A doily (if you don’t have one of Grandma’s, check thrift stores. Use one with a loose pattern around the outer edge)

-A glass jar that’s shorter than ½ the diameter of the doily. I used a 9” doily and a 4” high jar.

-Paper or cloth ribbon

 

[image error]Thread ribbon through the pattern around the outside of the doily. Place jar in center of doily, and pull the ribbon tight (like a drawstring), creating a ruffle around the top of the jar. Tie off the ribbon. Use some double-sided tape to hold the doily in place if necessary. Fill with a flameless candle, or use as a cute vase as I’ve done here.

What’s your holiday craft of choice? Bonus points if it includes glitter, felt, pipe cleaners, Popsicle sticks, yarn, or hot glue!

Filed under: cozies, Craft, Jane's posts, Sadie's Posts, Susannah's posts Tagged: doilies, Free Knitting Pattern, holiday crafts

Wicked Wednesday: Your Dessert Masterpiece

[image error]By Julie, decking the halls in Somerville

I am a huge fan of the Great British Baking Show, and am determined to try and make something challenging with meringue this month. I am also taking out an old recipe for Buche de Noel–I haven’t made it in years, but am going to take a day (it takes that long) and give it a whirl. The question of the week, Wickeds–is there a dessert you only make once a year because it is so complicated, or special? Anyone else tempted to make

a frangipane tart?

Edith: I made a Buche a couple of years ago, Julie. Maybe it was the recipe, m[image error]aybe my

execution, but I have to say it was not worth the effort. This year it’s going to take all my energy just to make my usual rounds of Christmas cookies – five kinds. They are both labor- and butter-intensive, so I only make them at the holidays.

Sherry: Poor, sad Buche, Edith! If I ever find the recipe I used which was easy and delicious, I’ll send it to you. I make a layered Strawberry Cake some years for Bob’s birthday. It’s my mom’s recipe and is delicious. It’s not particularly hard but it is time consuming. And I made Baklava once — again not hard just a lot of steps.

Jessie: For years I made gingerbread houses for a decorating party I threw for my kids. It was a lot of work but a lot of fun. I would bake and asemble all the plain houses and then set the table with royal icing and all sorts of candy. The kids would arrive and within an hour or so they’d each have a masterpiece to take home. Now tht my kids are older we sometimes make one large house that we all help to assemble and to decorate.

Liz: Since I changed the way I eat, desserts have typically been very different. Gluten and dairy free offerings can be tricky, and I admit sometimes I’m too lazy to bake them myself and prefer to find a good bakery to buy from! That said, I refer to Kris Carr’s recipes a lot – they’re raw, vegan and usually gluten free, and super easy. I’ve got my eye on peanut butter pomegranate cups right now…

[image error]Barb: I’m not much of a baker. My usual is seasonal pies. However, I do six kinds of cookies every Christmas, the same ones my mother did. Her mother did five of the six, and the recipes I use are from a book in her handwriting. My granddaughter recently started making the cookies with me, bringing us to at least the sixth generation. Very satisfying work, I must say.

Readers: What’s your dessert masterpiece? The one your mom or son or other family member always makes? Or the one you’d really like to make but don’t dare?

Save

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Filed under: Group posts, Wicked Wednesday Tagged: Baklava, Buche de Noel, dessert, English Butter Cookies, Frangipane tart, gingerbread houses, Great British Baking Show, Mexican Bridescakes, Strawberry cake

Books, Bagels, and Wicked Cozys

By Julie, feeling a bit of holiday spirit in Somerville

[image error]Ray Daniel is a good friend to the Wicked Cozys. This past Sunday he invited us to his temple, Congregation B’nai Torah in Sudbury, MA. It was a Books and Bagels event. When he asked us to participate back in October, he may have expect the more local Wickeds would make it. Instead, we turned it into an event. Sherry flew up for the weekend, Liz drove up from Connecticut, and Jessie drove down from New Hampshire. For the first time EVER, all six Wickeds were on a panel together. To cap the day, we went to the Wayside Inn afterwards. Ray and his wife Karen (an amazing quilter and HUGE cozy fan) came with us, along with Elias (Jessie’s husband) and Bill (Barb’s husband and frequent dead body model for Sherry’s first line photos).

[image error]

Wickeds at the Wayside Inn. Clockwise from bottom left: Barb, Bill, Edith, Julie, Sherry, Jessie, Elias, Karen, Liz. Photo by Ray Daniel.

Each of us sat at a different table for breakfast. Afterwards, we all  did a panel that Ray moderated. Conversation ranged from genre to our protagonists, to new series coming up. None of the Wickeds is shy, and we all have opinions, so the conversation was lively. The audience was also very engaged, so it was a great conversation that lasted over an hour.

Now, I’m going to spill the beans about the Wickeds. We all really like each other. We take the business of writing and selling books seriously, and support one another in that. But we also care about each other as people, and seeing each other is a tonic. Ray Daniel (a wonderful writer in his own right) is a good friend of the Wickeds. He gave us an excuse to spend some time together this past Sunday.

Click to view slideshow.

 

Filed under: Uncategorized, Where Are the Wickeds? Tagged: Barbara Ross, Books and Bagels, Edith Maxwell, J.A. Hennrikus, Jessica Estevao, Jessie Crockett, Julianne Holmes, Liz Mugavero, Maddie Day, Ray Daniel, Sherry Harris, Wicked Cozy Authors

A Wicked Welcome to Bruce Coffin

Bruce Coffin doesn’t write cozy novels, but is a FOTW (Friend of the Wickeds) whose first book, Among the Shadows, debuted this fall. He is also a wonderful short story writer, and is sharing one with us today. It is a lovely story–a perfect balm for this time of year. Thank you Bruce for visiting the Wicked Cozy Authors today!

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Several years ago, I penned a holiday tale titled Saint Nicholas. I know that many, many folks find the holidays a bit overwhelming. My goal in writing this short seasonal story was to remind all of us what is truly important and to provide an emotional lift to those in need. If I’ve done my job well, this story will put a smile on your face and some warmth in your hearts. Feel free to share if you think it might mean something to others. Here’s wishing you and yours a safe and happy holiday season.

–Bruce

 

Saint Nicholas

I’ve always believed that it’s part of the human condition to focus on the negative. Maybe it has something to do with our upbringing, although upon reflection we are all raised very differently so perhaps not. Whatever it is, it definitely exists in each of us. How else can we explain the age old news reporting axiom “if it bleeds it leads?” Police officers are even more inclined to focus on the negative. Being exposed to it day in and day out tends to make one jaded. But, I’m getting way ahead of myself. I should probably begin by telling you a little bit about me before I tell you my story.

My name is Crispin Mallory and, in case you haven’t already guessed, I am a police officer. I’ve been with the same department for thirty years, pushing a cruiser around,  investigating motor vehicle accidents, breaking up domestics, chasing down criminals, and writing the occasional traffic citation.

One day, several years back, I was working a double shift. Cops aren’t paid all that well and when an overtime opportunity presents itself most of us on the job are quick to say yes. It was December twenty-fourth and I just finished my first tour. I’d returned to the station to attend roll call before heading back out for another eight hours. I was tired and not in a particularly festive mood, mostly due to the fact that I had to work on Christmas, which meant my wife and two children would be celebrating without me. Another holiday missed. Such is the life of a cop. Anyway, the sergeant held me back after the briefing, said he had a task for me. I was instructed to return some valuables to a local home for the aged. Apparently one of the nursing staff had confessed to stealing jewelry from some of the residents at the home, to support her drug habit. See what I mean? All negative. The sergeant provided me with the name of the medical administrator and asked me to deliver the items to him.

After checking out a squad car and loading my gear, I got on the radio and requested that the dispatcher show me ten-six (busy) on assignment. I drove toward the nursing home grabbing a drive through coffee along the way.

I parked in the lot and made my way inside. The receptionist was talking to one of the orderlies and they both turned as I entered.

“Hello officer,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

I returned the greeting.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Ashby,” I said. “I’m supposed to deliver something to him.”

“I’ll try his extension.”

I wandered around the lobby as she tried to locate Ashby. Everything was brightly painted and decorated for the season. On the counter stood a small lit Christmas tree. I wondered if the employees were still allowed to call it a Christmas tree.

“Officer?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll be right out.”

I thanked her and continued to look around. Ashby walked up to me and introduced himself as the facility’s head administrator. I explained my purpose for being there and he led me back to his office so we could talk in private.

Once we were seated, I handed him the package and an evidence slip explaining that he needed to sign for the items.

“I am so pleased that your detectives were able to recover so many of the things that our former employee took. I’m sure you can imagine how much these items mean to the residents here. Some of these pieces of jewelry aren’t all that valuable, but they represent gifts from and memories of loved ones. Some things are worth far more than money.”

I agreed. After going through each of the items he signed for them and returned the evidence sheet to me. I stood, preparing to leave, when he stopped me.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do me one small favor, would you officer?”

I wondered why I would need to do another favor for him. After all, I’d just returned a number of stolen items. Shouldn’t that have been sufficient? “I really need to get back on the road, Mr. Ashby.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t impose. You’ve got places to go I imagine.”

Now verbally he was letting me off the hook but his tone and facial expression told another story. I knew he was attempting reverse psychology on me. Something my wife and I did to our kids everyday. “What do you need?” I asked.

“It will only take a second, I promise. But it will mean so much to her.”

Ashby proceeded to tell me about an eighty-year-old patient named Ruth Perkins. Mrs. Perkins was suffering from Alzheimer’s.

“She’s all alone now,” Ashby said. “Her husband passed last year. They had one son, Nicholas, and he was a police officer. Nicholas was killed in a shootout many years ago. Apparently he would visit her every Christmas, whether he was working or not and it meant the world to her. Her Alzheimer’s is advanced but she still manages to put several good days together each month. I have no idea how she does it but she does.”

I sat down again as he continued.

“Every month since the death of her husband, just prior to the twenty-fifth, she gets it into her head that Christmas is approaching. She gets so excited and makes a point to tell all of the staff that her son is coming to visit. She even has a ceramic tree that she makes us put up in her room. Of course when the twenty-fifth passes and Nicholas doesn’t show up her condition quickly worsens and she reverts back to her former state. It’s really quite sad.”

“What do you want me to do?,” I asked. “I’m not her son.”

“I know that, but I thought it might cheer her up just to get a visit from an officer in uniform. Just stop by and wish her a Merry Christmas.”

I only wanted to get back to my comfort zone. Back to my cruiser. I really wasn’t enjoying the idea of popping in on an already confused old woman, possibly making her situation worse. But Ashby’s reverse psychology must have worked because I found myself saying okay.

He said he’d introduce me, then he led me down the hall to her room. I followed, amid the stares and whispers of the other residents. Each of them probably wondering what the cop was doing there. At last he stopped and entered a room. The sign on the door said R. Perkins and a white ceramic tree stood on the table under the window. As I rounded the corner I saw her sitting up in bed, wearing a festive green robe over a red sweater. She was wearing makeup and it looked like she had just paid a visit to the hair dresser. She looked dignified and radiant, like someone waiting to be called upon, not at all what I had expected.

“Mrs. Perkins,” he said. “I’ve brought you a visitor.”

She turned towards us and her blue eyes lit up instantly. “Nicholas,” she cried out. “My Saint Nicholas, I knew you’d come. Didn’t I say he would come? Oh, this is the best Christmas ever.”

She held her arms out to me as I approached the bed. I bent down toward her and she hugged me tightly, even kissing me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas,” I said.

“I should leave the two of you alone now,” Ashby said, as he left.

I sat down in the chair beside the bed and she began asking me all sorts of questions. I was afraid that I might say the wrong thing, but as time passed it became obvious that nothing I said would lessen her faith that I was her son. We talked for close to an hour. I told her all about my family and about my work. She asked if I remembered this thing or that and of course I told her I did. The smile never left her face.

I stayed with her until she began to tire. All the excitement had worn her out. She hugged me again and made me promise to return the following day. Christmas Day. I promised that I would and kissed her on the cheek. I returned to my cruiser and radioed that I was back in service. My heart was full and I was happier than I’d been in a long while. It was clear that my visit to Ruth Perkins had done something positive to both of us. I no longer cared that I’d be missing this Christmas with my own family. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to be with them but after visiting a lonely old woman I realized I had no right to complain. There would be other Christmases to spend with my family. Mrs. Perkins’ family was gone leaving her only memories.

I returned to work the following day. Christmas Day turned out to be busier than any of us had imagined. A light snowfall had left the roads slick resulting in many accidents. The calls for service were already backing up by the time I hit the street.

It was nearly one in the afternoon before I was finally able to take a lunch break. I grabbed a sandwich and a couple of eggnogs at the local market before heading to see Mrs. Perkins. I was excited about being able to keep my promise to her and looking forward to seeing her face light up at the sight of me.

I parked in the nearly vacant lot and headed inside. The receptionist was a different girl than the one I’d spoken to the previous day. Holiday help I assumed. She asked if she could help me and I politely declined. “Thank you but I’m all set. Just visiting someone.”

I walked down the corridor to her room, stopping as I reached her door. The room was empty. Her belongings were gone and the nameplate was missing from the door. I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me.

“Can I help you officer?” a soft female voice asked from behind me.

I turned and saw a young orderly. “I’m looking for Mrs. Perkins. Ruth Perkins. Has she been moved?”

“Are you a relative?”

I pondered her question before answering. “Sort of. I just visited her yesterday.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Perkins passed away last night.”

 

Many years have passed since that Christmas. I’m still a police officer with the same department. Heck, I’ve been on so long now that I get every Christmas off. I’ve never forgotten Ruth Perkins or her gift to me. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. That it was I who gave her one last visit with her son. But I think of it differently. I believe she’s the one who gave a great gift to me. You see, Mrs. Perkins restored my faith in humanity, helped me appreciate what I have. Her belief that I was her son was so strong and so real that I couldn’t help but feel the same love for her in return. Her faith and her love changed me forever. And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

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Bruce Robert Coffin is a former detective sergeant with more than twenty-seven years in law enforcement. At the time of his retirement, from the Portland, Maine police department, he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for Maine’s largest city. Following the terror attacks of September 11th, Bruce spent four years working counter-terrorism with the FBI, earning the Director’s Award, the highest honor a non-agent can receive.

Bruce is the author of the Detective Byron Mysteries from HarperCollins. The debut novel in the series, Among the Shadows , was recently released to rave reviews, appearing in several Amazon bestseller lists and topping the paperback fiction list in the Maine Sunday Telegram. His short stories have been featured in several anthologies including the 2016 Best American Mystery Stories .

He lives and writes in Maine.
Filed under: Guest posts, Short Stories, Uncategorized Tagged: Among the Shadows, Bruce Coffin, Christmas story

Guest: Catriona McPherson

Edith here, so pleased to welcome the talented and prolific Catriona McPherson back to the blog! She’s got a new Dandy Gilver out, The Reek of Red Herrings, which I can’t wait to read, and she’s telling us how she came up with the story today. Plus she offers a chance at a fabulous giveway and a free short story.

Take it away, Catriona.

Wicked Cozy Herring

I never meant to write a Christmas book, but I’ve done it twice now. The first time I wanted to set a story at my detective’s country home in the back end of nowhere and I wanted to write about a circus. But why would a circus come to such an isolated patch? Well, it turns out that in the 1920s travelling circuses had to find somewhere spacious and cheap, with fresh water and rabbits for the pot, there to hunker down and see out the bad weather. They called it . . .

This time, I wanted to set a story in an isolated village, with just one road in, where a tree falling in a bad storm could cut everyone off from the outside world. I found the perfect spot. The north coast of Aberdeenshire is home to a string of fishing villages with hair-raisingly steep roads leading down to a crammed jumble of houses and nothing but the wild waters of the North Sea facing you at the road’s end. Look!

I knew it would need to be winter, to get the weather truly atrocious. And so for a while I thought the history of these fishing villages had handed me the lazy writer’s favourite gift: a small cast of characters – so much easier to manipulate than a multitudinous horde.

Because you see, for most of the winter – in fact, for much of the year – not all the villagers were actually there. The herring fishermen (most of the men, in other words), and the “herring quines” – the women who gutted the fish, packed them into barrels and salted them down – followed the herring’s migration: from the northernmost islands, round the mainland coast, across the Irish sea and down to England.

 

I was raring to go. I had struck gold with the setting: a spaghetti tangle of tiny lanes, staircases so steep there were ropes to help people climb to their houses, dead ends disguised as cut throughs and cut throughs that looked like dead ends until you were pressed against the back wall.

And I had struck shinier gold with that legitimate excuse to keep the character list tiny.

Then, sitting in a reference library in Oldmeldrum, I struck platinum. I found a slim volume of local history that spoke of the one time of year when the herring boats came home: Christmas. And while all the lads and lasses were with their families for a change, what did they do? It makes sense when you think about it: they got married. Christmas was the wedding season.

And the wedding season of the herring-folk was pure dead bonkers. I read the slim volume with my mouth hanging open. By the time I left the library, my book was hijacked. No more small cast, no more locked room: this book was going to be an extravaganza.

I don’t want to tell you everything in case you read it, but let me just say the weddings took a week, every day with its own dedicated event (some sweet, some gross, all weird), leading up to the grand finale on Saturday night when the new bride and groom were tucked into their bed with a bottle of whisky and a loaf of bread (to keep their strength up) and spent the night with all their friends outside the bedroom door, shouting encouragement and cracking jokes. You can’t buy class, eh?

I found out the origin of the best man and maid of honour – I had never thought to wonder why these people existed; I certainly never suspected the devil was involved – and I found out about the worst man (and maid of dishonour?) too. I’d never even heard of them before.

Best of all, I discovered that one of the strangest traditions of the whole week-long jamboree still happens! There are videos on Youtube, filmed on the harbourside in the very village where my book is set.

Google ‘blackening the bride” if you don’t believe me.

And if I’ve whetted your appetite for schlock-Gothic goings-on in 1930s Scotland (I haven’t even mentioned the amateur taxidermy), see below for a gift and giveaway.

If you pre-order THE REEK OF RED HERRINGS between now and midnight on the 12th, I’ll send you an exclusive short story, set in Dandy Gilver’s house at Christmastime and enter you in a draw to win a bundle of all eleven novels. See here for details.

Readers: Have you ever been to Scotland? Did you know the word “quine” before today?

Catriona McPherson is the author of eleven novels in the Dandy Gilver series, featuring Dandy Gilver, her sidekick Alec Osborne, and Bunty the Dalmatian, set in Scotland in the 1920s and 30s. They have won Agatha, Macavity and Lefty awards and been shortlisted for a UK Dagger. The series is currently in development for television, at STV in Scotland. She also writes contemporary standalones, including THE CHILD GARDEN and QUIET NEIGHBORS, which have won two Anthonys and been shortlisted for an Edgar and a Mary Higgins Clark award. Find out more at www.catrionamcpherson.com.

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Edith's posts, Guest posts, Uncategorized Tagged: Aberdeenshire, Catriona McPherson, herring quines, Oldmeldrum, Scotland, The Reek of Red Herrings

A Wicked Welcome to Molly MacRae

A few years ago I was at Malice Domestic, sitting through Malice-Go-Round. Malice-Go-Round is a Friday morning session where pairs of authors go around from table to table and pitch their books in two minutes. It is tough to do, and even tougher to stand out. But Molly MacRae made me laugh, and I went right to the bookroom to buy her first book in her Haunted Yarn Shop series, Last Wool and Testament. Two years ago I moderated a panel a Malice, and Molly was one of the panelists. She was funny and gracious. I’m so thrilled to welcome Molly to the Wicked Cozy Authors today, so she can tell us about the debut of her new Highland Bookshop Mystery series. Plaid and Plagiarism debuted this past Tuesday.

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Any Questions?

Mysteries are all about questions and answers. Everyone involved in a mystery story is either asking questions and looking for answers, or they’re busy hiding answers—often with wicked intent. And by “everyone,” I mean to include the writers as well as the characters. In fact, especially the writers. The characters almost have it easy. They deal with the classic who, what, where, how, and when of a mystery. But the writer has to ask the bigger question—what is the theme of this story, in other words, what is this story about? Part of my process in planning a story is figuring out the answer to that question.

For instance, a theme running through my Margaret and Bitsy short stories is familial interactions. More specifically, it’s watching the dance grown siblings do in their interactions with each other. In those stories, Margaret Welch is a laidback bookseller. Her sister, Bitsy, is . . . not so laidback. A theme frequently found in small town cozy mysteries is the character as a fish out of water. It’s one of my favorite themes. Kath, my protagonist in the Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries, is a fish out of water when she goes to live in Blue Plum, Tennessee. Geneva, the ghost in that series, is a fish totally out of the water. She should be dead and buried but finds herself living in a yarn shop. The fish out of water theme is a great way to create immediate tension in a story.

In my new series, the Highland Bookshop Mysteries, there are four main characters—four women who pool their money and buy a bookshop in a town on the west coast of the Scottish Highlands It’s a retirement/change of career scheme for them, and as three of them are Americans and the fourth is a Scotswoman who’s been living in the Illinois for the past few decades, they are all fish out of water. But there’s another theme running through the first book, Plaid and Plagiarism, and the series. It’s a theme you’ll also find in a song by the late Steve Goodman: “The I Don’t Know Where I’m Going, But I’m Going Nowhere in a Hurry Blues.”

Each of the women, Janet Marsh and Tallie Marsh, Christine Robertson, and Summer Jacobs, came to a point in her life where she no longer knew where she was going and wanted to change that. Janet’s husband left her for one of his students. Christine’s husband died. Tallie is a burned out law professor. Summer is a newspaperwoman in an age when print newspapers are disappearing. But they all love Scotland. They all love books. They all have a sense of adventure. The bookshop they buy is thriving and located in a tourist town. The women have a new direction, new leases on life.

My four new characters might not know exactly what’s in store for them with their new venture, but that doesn’t bother them. They’re in Scotland. The Highlands! That they don’t know what’s in store doesn’t bother me, either. That’s because it gives me, the one of the best questions of all to play around with. What can possibly go wrong?

Oh, let me count the ways.

Where do you look for themes for your stories?

Bio:

The Boston Globe says Molly MacRae writes “murder with a dose of drollery.” In addition to writing the Highland Bookshop Mysteries, Molly is the author of the award-winning Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries from NAL/Penguin and the stand-alone mystery novels Lawn Order and Wilder Rumors. Molly’s short stories have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine since 1990 and she’s a winner of the Sherwood Anderson Award for Short Fiction. Molly and her family live in Champaign, Illinois, where she connects children and books at the public library.

Links:

Website: www.mollymacrae.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/molly.macrae.9

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/MollyMacRae/

Twitter: @mysterymacrae

Filed under: Guest posts, Uncategorized Tagged: Highland Bookshop Mysteries, Molly MacRae, Plaid and Plagiarism

Wicked Wednesday: Favorite Cocoa Recipe

By Julie, winding up the semester in Somerville.

A few years ago (three or four) my friend Amy and I went up to the Peabody Essex Museum. Afterwards we wandered around and went into a small shop, where we ordered Mexican hot chocolate. It was made to order, and I didn’t pay enough attention to what they added to the pot. It was sublime. I went back a few months later, and the shop is gone. I can’t recreate it, though I’ve been trying. So, Wickeds, what is your favorite cocoa recipe? Or hot drink?

Edith: I go simple with hot chocolate when Miss B or Mr. J comes over. Heat milk in the microwave, add a spoonful of Hershey’s chocolate syrup and tiny marshmallows to match their age plus one. They’ve never complained, mostly because they get neither hot chocolate nor marshmallows at home. But for an adult hot beverage, I like to mull local cider slowly with a cinnamon stick and a few whole cloves, and then add a couple of glugs of locally distilled rum. Mmmm!

Sherry: Years ago I lived in Grand Junction, Colorado. One of my favorite places to go (anytime of year) was Aspen, Colorado. It was only a two hour drive. I don’t ski so while my friends were, I’d wander around the shops or admire the Victorian houses in the various neighborhoods. When I tired of that I’d find a restaurant or bar with a view of the slopes and people watch. That’s where I discovered the delights of hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and a dollop of whipped cream. Yum. So just take your favorite cocoa and add the schnapps and whipped cream and dream about your favorite winter spot.

Edith: I like the sound of that, Sherry! Must acquire some peppermint schnapps ASAP…

Barb: I was in high school when a friend introduced me to frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity 3 in New York City. It tasted amazing, frozen yet not supersweet–with a real kick like cocoa and lots of whipped cream on top. We thought we were so sophisticated roaming the city on our own. Very World of Henry Orient. Sadly, most of my hot chocolate today comes from a decidedly less glamorous souce–Dunkin Donuts in my Keurig.

Liz: I don’t remember where I first tried it, but butterscotch hot chocolate is absolutely amazing! I drink nut milk instead of regular milk, and it’s delicious with almond milk. I bet it would be even better with cashew milk – I’ll have to try and report back.

Jessie: I feel like such a downer! I absolutely do not like anything milky with chocolate. Not hot cocoa, not chocolate milk, never, ever, chocolate ice cream. As a child I didn’t even eat the chocolate bunnies in my Easter baskets. In fact, I actively disliked chocolate until I was pregnant with my second child. I love eggnog though! And tea and coffee!

Julie: Jessie, one of my holiday favorites are eggnog lattes. YUM. Aside from the elusive Mexican hot chocolate (readers, any ideas?) I like Hershey’s powder, sugar, milk. A dash of vanilla. If I am going the marshmallow route, I go with Fluff.

Readers, any recipes to share? What is your favorite oh-so-cozy hot drink?

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Filed under: Wicked Wednesday Tagged: cocoa, Wicked Wednesday

In The Middle

By Sherry — another rainy day in Northern Virginia

Usually no one wants to be in the middle, but I am and here is why I’m so happy to be.

The second anniversary of the release of Tagged For Death was last Friday, December 2nd (look for the celebratory giveaway at the bottom of the post). And this anniversary made me reflect on where I’ve been, where am, and where I’m going. I started thinking about all of the people who helped me along the way – too many to list here but I do want to mention some pivotal moments.

My first writers conference run by the Cambria Writers Workshop was in Monterey, California where I received gentle criticism and lots of encouragement.

I also attended the now defunct Seaside Writers Conference run by the faculty of the Florida International University’s creative writing department. I learned so much about structure and passion for writing. Plus I met some wonderful local writers.

You meet the nicest people at Malice. Here I’m with Dru Ann Love, Aimee Hix, Shari Randall, and Kathryn O’Sullivan

Malice Domestic in Bethesda, Maryland was life changing in so many ways. (I gave them a shout out in the acknowledgements of Tagged For Death.) I also made a lot of friends there and met Julie Hennrikus who told me about the New England Chapter of Sisters in Crime and Crime Bake and of course became my dear, dear friend.

When I joined the New England Chapter of Sisters in Crimes Hallie Ephron, Roberta Isleib (aka Lucy Burdette), and Hank Phillippi Ryan were the head honchos of the chapter. They are all amazingly generous to me and so many other writers.

Crime Bake gave me a chance to meet authors, agents (lots of rejections), and pre-published friends.

Seacape run by Hallie Ephron, Roberta Isleib, and S.W. Hubbard (the year I attended). Never has so much learning and opportunity been packed into less than forty-eight hours. But even more important were the friendships that were formed. I met Edith Maxwell, Liz Mugavero, Barbara Ross, and Kim Gray that weekend – Wicked Cozy Authors wasn’t even a twinkle in our eye then. I also met Ramona DeFelice Long, and Christine Hillman who is from Australia – both are amazing women and writers.

Then of course there’s Barbara Ross who thought of me when agent John Talbot asked her if she knew anyone who could write a series about garage sales.

Photo by Meg Manion Silliker

And there are my dear Wickeds. What would I do without all of you?!

When I moved back to Virginia I joined the Chesapeake Chapter of Sisters in Crime and found another group of people who encourage and support me in so many ways.

I’m also very grateful to so many friends, readers, bloggers, and reviewers who are with me on this journey.

So with all this talk of the past why did I title the post “In The Middle”? I realized I get to help other writers now. It is so much fun! And I have had such gracious examples of how to do that from people who have helped me in the past and continue to help me now.

There are so many ways to help other writers. Sometimes it’s reading a manuscript and making suggestions. Or it’s saying to someone my agent is looking for someone to write a series. It could be an introduction, just an encouraging word, writing a blurb for someone, or telling people to join Sisters in Crime.

A few weeks ago I did a panel on getting published with Maya Corrigan and Kathryn O’Sullivan at the Barnes and Noble in Fairfax, VA. We had a small but enthusiastic crowd. We ended up talking to a man for quite a while after the panel and encouraged him to join Sisters in Crime.

Photo by Eleanor Carwood Jones who took the selfie!

Last weekend was the Chesapeake Chapter Mystery Extravaganza where chapter members who’ve published a book or short story during the year get a couple of minutes to talk about their work. While I was up at the podium talking I spotted someone in the crowd and thought that guy looks familiar. I started racking my brain to figure out why (I think I kept talking while that was going on).

Then I realized it was the man from the Barnes and Noble panel. I had a chance to speak with him after the event was over. His eyes lit up and he said he’d written eight chapters since the panel. That he’d put off grading papers (he’s a high school psychology teacher) and doing things around the house to write. Seeing his enthusiasm warmed my heart.

Being in the middle is a wonderful place to be.

Readers: Who have you given a hand up to?

I’m giving away a set of all three Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mysteries to one reader. Leave a comment for a chance to win.

 

 

 

Filed under: Sherry's posts Tagged: Barnes and Noble, Best New England Crime Stories Stone Cold, Cambria Writers Workshop, Chesapeake Chapter of Sisters in Crime, Fairfax Virginia, Hallie ephron, Hank Philippi Ryan, helping hand, lucy burdette, New England Crime Bake, Roberta Isleib

There and Back Again

By Sheila just back from Ireland

One more report from Ireland, after a rather hectic two weeks spent there furnishing my small cottage. Writing related? In a lot of ways, actually. Research isn’t always about places and how things look—a lot of it is about people, and the small details of daily life.

I’ve been visiting Ireland since 1998 and writing about for nearly as long. After a lot of thinking, I bought a cottage from which I can see where one of my great-great-grandmothers was born.

 

The cottage  was built around 1950, but it hadn’t been lived in for about ten years when I bought it. All things considered it was in pretty good shape, but it was empty, and a bit sad and lonely. So my husband and I went over to make it more like a home—starting with the kitchen, and then adding furniture and a wireless connection and a satellite dish.

We’re looking forward to going back in the spring (when all the wild daffodils are blooming and the new lambs are bouncing in the meadow down the lane). But although I have spent a couple of weeks at a time in the area in past years, it’s different when you’re becoming a part of the place and people know it. What’s more, as we writers know, it’s the details that make a book or story come alive, and you see things differently when you have a stake in a place.

The Connolly surname lets people “place” me in West Cork, and it still matters—not out of any snobbery, but because people like to find connections. If you’ve worked on your family history it’s a plus because then you can share information with others. But simply being there and talking to ordinary people who live there (like Ted at the hardware store and Jerry at the furniture store and Sean at the second-hand store, all of whom I’ve spent a lot of time with) gave me a different perspective on the place, and on being an American.

It stands out that Americans are conspicuous consumers. Our homes are big, our appliances are big, our cars are big. Cut those down to half the size and you have what is more typical of rural Ireland. That’s not just a matter of economics, but also of the culture. You shop more often for food—you don’t pack a month’s worth of supplies in a giant refrigerator. You cook on a stove-top that’s 24” across. Your washer measures loads in kilograms: the one that came with my place will take up to 4-point-something kilos as a load. That’s about two pairs of blue jeans. Yes, they come larger, up to about double that, but they’re still small by US standards. And not everyone has a dryer, just a clothesline out back.

I have a second cousin who lives in the house her family moved into in 1956, when the place was new. We visited there last week, and by our standards (even for the 1950s) it’s small. She raised four children there, and helped manage a farm where her family raised both pigs and cattle. It is interesting that two of her married children have settled close by and built new homes, and they are more what we here would call a mini-mc-mansion—handsome two story homes with lots of frills, like electric gates (there are both dogs and livestock to keep in). A lot of the new construction in West Cork follows a much more American model, but plenty of people live in the older places as well. And the insides of the older homes are crammed with generations of pictures and mementoes (makes me feel better about my own housekeeping—maybe clutter is hereditary).

Skibbereen is the nearest town, and it’s booming. The population there hovers around 3,000, but there are new homes being built, and the town is proud that they are now home to the Ludgate Hub, a digital hub that enables regional connectivity and provides local business services (and jobs). It opened in 2015. But if you’re envisioning a huge, sleek building, think again—it’s housed in what was formerly a row-house bakery. The town itself still has only one main street, and a year-round weekly farmers market in the center. In the shops people know you and greet you, and if they don’t have what you need, they’ll tell you what other shop to look in. To me it is a perfect little big town, with everything I could ask for (including good restaurants).

Many of the local towns are tiny (don’t blink as you pass through or you might miss them), but they host a wealth of small festivals—literary, cooking, art, theater and more. It’s a lively cultural region.

The whole area, and maybe the whole country, has one foot in the past and one firmly in the present. You stop someone on the road and they’ll turn out to have known your family years ago. At the same time, you can get wireless with a tiny “hot-spot” device, pay as you go, which is more than I can say for my Massachusetts home. Sometimes the mix of old and new is enough to make your head spin.

I could ramble on (the Irish are great talkers and rarely seem to be in a hurry), but you get the drift: the best of old and new exist side by side in Ireland.

And one thing that either breaks or warms my heart is how many people, those who know me and those who don’t, asked “when are you comin’ home again?” Soon. I promise.

Readers: Have you ever visited somewhere that you love to live?

 

Filed under: Ireland, Sheila's Posts Tagged: connolly, Ireland, West Cork