Edith Maxwell's Blog, page 241

Edgar Allan Cozy — Wicked Short Stories

We are celebrating Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday with a new short story anthology! Last year Jane Haertel, aka Sadie Hartwell (aka Susannah Hardy), asked the Wickeds if we’d be interested in doing a short story anthology based on Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories — only these stories would have a twist — a cozy take on his original stories. The result is the ebook Edgar Allan Cozy. Here’s how we chose our stories:

Edith: At a young age I was haunted – haunted, I tell you! – by the “The Tell-Tale Heart.”

From Wikimedia Commons

And by young I mean nine or ten. When the light went out in my room at night, I knew I could hear that heart beating under the floor. I didn’t know anything about sanity or insanity. I didn’t know what a rheumy eye was. But I could feel that story. I’m not sure my mother was entirely sane letting her third daughter read Poe and the tales of Sherlock Holmes in the fourth grade. Read them I did, though, over and over, and that reading started me on the path to where I have ended up: writing mystery, heart-stopping suspense, and even a bit of horror now and then. I tried to craft “An Intolerable Intrusion” after the manner of “The Tell-Tale Heart” — only with a modern twist.

Photo by Jljimenez via Wikimedia Commons

Sadie/Susannah/Jane: My story, “Within These Walls,” about a Shriner clown’s wife who inherits a brooding mansion set high on a bluff in Raven Harbor, Maine, is based on Poe’s “Cask of Amontillado.” While I love all the Poe stories and poems, this is the one that sticks with me. Our narrator gets his friend Fortunato drunk on Amontillado, a rare wine, then proceeds to wall him up–alive!–in his ancient house. I’m not in the least claustrophobic, but whenever I think of poor Fortunato dying, alone and desperate, in his dank, dark, sealed-up prison, I feel a little short of breath. A little palpitate-y. And it’s always driven me a bit mad that we never find out exactly what Fortunato did to his frenemy Montresor that motivated Montresor to get his revenge in this dreadful way. We’ll never know. But not to worry.. I gave the characters in my tribute story some specific motivations, so you won’t have to spend a lot of years wondering.

Sherry: A strange thing happened on the way to picking a Poe story for the anthology — I stopped to read the poem Annabel Lee because I hadn’t read it in years. And as soon as I finished reading it the story of Anna, Belle, and Lee popped into my head. It was one of those glorious moments in writing when something really flows. But because the poem is short, I needed to write a story too. I kept sorting through them and good heavens a lot of those stories are grim!

Then I came across the partially finished story of The Lighthouse which is a diary with only three entries. It in itself is a mystery. Why isn’t it finished? Or is it finished? No one really knows and I liked that. In my story I write about a relative who tries to find out what happened to her missing great-great-great grandfather using his diary entries. But she has some problems of her own.

Barb: We’ve all been transported by the rhythms, internal rhymes, and relentless story-telling of “The Raven.” But I’ve always wondered–what if the poem was moved to modern times? And what if the narrator was driven mad, not by a bird, but by the haranguing of a telemarketer? To answer these questions, I offer my updated version.

Sheila: While I had read most of Poe’s short stories years ago, I wanted to find something I wasn’t familiar with, and discovered the 1883 story “MS. Found in a Bottle.” The narrator is a sailor who encounters some rather extreme circumstances during a voyage on a cargo ship at sea. Or does he? Some early readers have asked if Poe meant this as a satire, or a parody of some contemporary sea stories—although they never quite agreed on which author Poe was poking fun at. Still, the editor who published the story called it “distinguished by a wild, vigorous and poetical imagination.” I thought it might be interesting to see what would happen if I recast the story with the sailor telling his story to a modern audience, and whether he would be believed under different conditions.

Readers: Do you have a favorite Poe story?

Filed under: Group posts Tagged: Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Cozy, Edgar Allan Poe, MS. Found in a Bottle, Sherlock Holmes, Tell-Tale Heart, The Lighthouse, The Raven

Just One Thing or How I Finally Managed To Write A Short Story

By Sherry in Northern Virginia where winter seems to be setting in.

Short stories have been the bane of my existence — hmm that’s a little dramatic, so the bane of my writing existence. It seems like everyone I know writes them. I like to read them, but when it comes to me writing one, well, I fall short. When I lived in Massachusetts I always planned to write a short story to submit to the Level Best Books anthology. When I moved back to Northern Virginia I planned to write one to submit to the anthology for the Al Blanchard contest. I even had an idea for a story and wrote bits of it here and there but could never get it to gel.

On the other hand, I have a short story contest to thank for starting me on my adult novel writing journey. I may have told you this story before so feel free to skip to the next paragraph. We were living in Dayton, Ohio when I saw a blurb in the newspaper for a short story contest. I’ll write one, I thought. My protagonist was a gemologist, the setting was Seattle, and there was a dead homeless woman. I sat down to write but just kept going, subplots, romances, and characters appeared. The short story contest was abandoned but my novel writing journey was born.

So along comes our very own Wicked accomplice Sadie/Susannah/Jane suggesting we do a short story anthology taking a well known author’s stories and giving them a cozy twist. “Sure,” I say, “I can do that.” (I’m starting to worry that I’m one of those people who  if someone came along and said we should all go skydiving I’d say yes. Writing a short story seems almost as risky to me.) The group decided to write riffs on Edgar Allan Poe stories and I was soon wondering what I’d gotten myself in to.

I spent some time going through Poe stories. I’d forgotten how dark they were. I finally settled on a story called “The Lighthouse.” But I didn’t start writing.

My first attempt — at least I had a title.

Second attempt – title and who wrote it — this is progress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The deadline came closer and I made many attempts but tossed them. I finally called story story writer and independent editor Barb Goffman and explained my problem: every time I started writing characters and subplots kept crowding my head. Barb said, “A short story is about just one thing.”

“But what about –”

“Just one thing.”

“But a romance –”

“Just one thing.”

“I thought of a character –”

“JUST ONE THING.”

Okay, I got it. A short story is about just one thing. That’s what I chanted to myself as I wrote. I batted away those pesky subplots and characters that weren’t meant to be there. I finished the story. The anthology, Edgar Allan Cozy, comes out tomorrow.

Readers: Have you ever tried to write a short story? Do you read them?

Filed under: Sherry's posts Tagged: Barb Goffman, Edgar Allan Cozy, Edgar Allan Poe, The Lighthouse

Opening Lines

The picture we are using this week is taken by avid reader, Lisa Philpott. I asked Lisa to tell us a little about this photo which she submitted to our Opening Lines photo contest last year.

Lisa said: I love taking pictures and that is one of my favorites! The picture was taken about 5 years ago when I was biking through the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico.  The specific spot wasn’t even a big tourist destination and I just kind of happened upon the scene when bike riding that day.  It was very clear that this girl and alligator were very comfortable with each other – but it made me nervous for sure!!!  It’s important to note, no children or gators were harmed in the taking of this photo!

Thanks, Lisa! Readers: Write an opening line for the photograph below:

Edith: They call the kid the Alligator Whisperer. I wonder if she can tame icy-eyed psychopaths as well as she does large-jawed beasts. Because we could use her.

Jessie: Mom, can we keep him? Please!

Barb: What big teeth you have, Grandma.

Liz: Can he sleep in bed with me like the dogs do?

Julie: Who knew they liked peanut butter and jelly?

Sherry: In the land of Oogachucka alligators protected the weak and small children never lived in fear.

Readers: Add yours!

Filed under: Opening Lines

Wearing My Hats

I wear a lot of different professional hats. I write, as you all know. I run StageSource, a service organization for the New England theater community. I teach arts management classes at Emerson College. In addition to all three of those things, I am an arts advocate, board member of Sisters in Crime national, and Sisters in Crime New England, and I blog here and at Live To Write/Write To Live.

I am not alone in my multiple hat wearing career. Most people juggle, and add a personal life to the mix. Family, friends, and relationships all are different hats as well. Early in this new year I’ve been thinking about my hats, and what it takes to wear them all. Or, more precisely, how to wear them better in 2016. We’re only two weeks into the new year–there’s still time for me to figure this out. Important hat thoughts so far:

All of my hats are not the same size, type, or fit. That means, when I put on one hat, I need to become the person who wears that hat. Example–I am teaching a new class at Emerson this spring. School started this week, and I had to get my syllabus together, and do the plan for the first class. I’d taken last semester off from teaching, so I needed to pull out the right hat, dust it off, and put it on. Be in charge, have a game plan, and set goals for each class. It’s showtime, and I’m there to teach.

Being a writer is actually several hats. The act of writing is one thing, the social aspect of being an author is another. My writing hat is quiet, introspective, and not really fit for public life. My author hat comes with a smile, a pen, and bookmarks.

You can’t really wear more than one hat at a time and look good. This past weekend I worked at the ALA booth for Sisters in Crime New England. I brought bookmarks, but it became clear right away that I was wearing my Sisters in Crime hat at the conference. I could work in the “hey, I have a series”, but the purpose of the day was to talk about the awesome programs Sisters in Crime and our New England chapter have for libraries. When I am wearing my StageSource hat, my author hat is put away. I don’t hide it, but it also doesn’t fit at work.

Sometimes you need to clean out your closet, or at least put stuff away. You can spread yourself too thin. I don’t know that I am ready to toss hats, but I do know that before I put on another one, something needs to be put away. I am trying to be much better about goal setting and scheduling time in 2016. There are seven days a week, and 24 hours a day. Hats don’t add more time.

I love that I wear a number of different hats. It suits me, and my personality. That said, 2016 goal is to wear them a little better, and more mindfully.

How about you, dear readers? How do you juggle your hat collection?

 

Filed under: Julie's posts Tagged: Julianne Holmes, julie hennrikus, Sisters in Crime, Sisters in Crime New England, StageSource

Wicked Wednesday — Favorite Author Moment

It’s Wicked Wednesday again. So, Wickeds, do you have a moment that stands out in your journey to being a published author? One of those things that made you do a happy dance or almost brought you to tears?

Liz: There have been so many amazing moments – signing a contract, hitting send on that first manuscript, seeing your book in print the first time. But for me, the first time I got an email from a reader saying they’d read and enjoyed my book sent me over the moon. That’s why we do this, right? So people can escape their own worlds for a little bit and get some enjoyment out of what we created. Hearing that I hit the mark was the best feeling ever.

Edith: I know that feeling, Liz! And it’s amazing. For me I’ll say how incredible it was that established, multi-published, generous authors like Kate Flora, Julia Spencer-Fleming, Hank Phillippi Ryan, and (our own accomplice) Sheila Connolly agreed to blurb my very first book, Speaking of Murder, written as Tace Baker (Barking Rain Press, 2012). I was stunned, tearful, and so gratified that these successful busy women would not only take time to read the book but also craft a compelling endorsement. Kate’s included: “This charming traditional mystery debut is just the ticket for those relishing a contemporary puzzler.” Color me died and gone to heaven. And now I have to chance to pay it forward.

Jessie: I would say my moment was when I stood in my kitchen, having just opened my very first carton of my very first book, Live Free or Die, and hearing one of my children ask for a copy of his own that he wished for me to autograph. My family has been such a part of my journey to publication and having him there to share the moment, and to make it all the sweeter with his request, was magical.

Sherry: One big moment was when someone recognized me out in the wild (note to self brush hair and teeth before going out of the house maybe even slap on some makeup). Getting the call that Tagged for Death was nominated for best first novel was another biggie. I’m pretty sure I just babbled, Oh, my god, really? over and over for five minutes. And then it’s the total strangers reaching out to say they like my books — that will never get old.

Barb: One moment that always makes me chuckle came this summer. I was at a author day at the lovely Beyond the Sea bookstore in Lincolnville Beach, Maine. Katherine Hall Page was on my right, and Tess Gerritsen was behind me. A woman burst through the shop door and shouted, “Barbara Ross! You are the person I have come 1000 miles to see!” She was from the midwest, but was vacationing in Maine. She’d talked her husband into staying an extra day and moving to a hotel in a nearby city so she could meet me! I almost fell through the floor. But then I wondered–what can I do in the next five minutes to make it worthwhile for this woman? I signed her books and posed for a photo with her and gave her a hug. I hope she thought it was all worth it. I know it made my day–month–year.

Julie: I am so blessed to be on a path that my Wicked Cozy sisters have forged ahead of me. I wouldn’t be on this particular road without them, and I am forever grateful. Along the journey, I had advice, celebrations of milestones, and support. But my favorite “this is real” moment was on release day for Just Killing Time, October 6. There were dozens of people there, from all facets of my life. Family, friends, former students, work colleagues. Also present, so many of my writer friends. Mentors (three of them in this picture–Hank Phillippi Ryan, Hallie Ephron, and Kate Flora), sat down front, near my parents, offering support. Edith Maxwell helped my sister set up, and put bookmarks on every chair. There were so many Sisters in Crime we could have had a meeting. It was a great night, and it celebrated a great moment. So hard to believe it was only three months ago!

Filed under: Wicked Wednesday Tagged: Agatha awards, gratitude, Hank Philippi Ryan, julia spencer-fleming, kate flora, Live Free or Die, Speaking of Murder, Tace Baker, Tagged for Death

The Detective’s Daughter – Sing a New Song

Kim in Baltimore, putting away the last of the Christmas decorations.

This morning on a television program they had a segment about 45 records. Does anyone remember those? I do and still have most of mine in a record box tucked on the shelf of my office closet. I come from a musical family. My grandparents and their siblings all played musical instruments and my grandfather and uncles even had their own music hour on the radio in the 1940’s.

Even though my parents were definitely children of the sixties, I was more encased in the generation of my grandparents. By the time I was five I could sing every verse of Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey. I knew much more about Judy Garland and Bing Crosby than Judy Collins and Bob Dylan. We watched Lawrence Welk every Saturday afternoon and listened to Nat King Cole on the radio. My grandfather and uncles would sit in our kitchen playing their banjos and guitars nearly every Saturday night. Dad never played an instrument, but loved listening to his big band records on the stereo. Music was playing day and night in our house.

My grandfather died the year I turned twelve and the weekly gatherings came to an end. We still had the radio and stereo playing constantly, but the music seemed empty. I felt hurt and alone. Listening to Fleetwood Mac and Billy Joel, though I loved their music, did nothing to improve my mood.

 

Dad came in one night after work and called my to the kitchen. “I have something for you,” he said and handed me a paper shopping bag. Inside was a Led Zepplin album. Now, you’ve probably figured out by now if you regularly read my post, I was an extremely sheltered child. I had heard of Led Zepplin, but doubt I could’ve named one of their songs. In my young mind this was the type of music some of the older neighborhood boys listened to in their basement while getting high.

I stood there, frozen in place, wondering what in the world my dad was thinking giving this to me. “Live a little,” he finally said, breaking the silence. I dutifully took the album up to my room and played it on my turn table. I laid across my bed with my head hanging off the side. It seemed to me the proper way to listen to Led Zepplin was with all the blood rushing to your brain. From the moment Robert Plant’s voice sang out “Hey, hey mama” I could feel the void in me that had been starved for months filling up. He was smooth and sometimes screaming and had an achy scratchiness to his voice I’d not heard before but could identify the same feelings within myself.

Dad never requested I turn my stereo down, nor did he ever roll his eyes when I mentioned Robert Plant the way he had anytime I’d wanted to talk about David Cassidy. The following summer we made our annual trek to Atlantic City. It would be our last visit there as a family. One night, while walking the boardwalk, Dad played a baseball game and won. Of all the prizes he could have chosen, he walked away with yet another Led Zepplin album, Bonzo’s Birthday. I was thrilled.

In Dad’s quiet way he helped me overcome the depression I felt after my grandfather’s death by introducing me to this music. One Zepplin album put me on the path to The Runaways, The Godfathers, Blondie, u2 and Nirvana. I have turned to them on numerous occasions over the years to dance, sing or even scream my way through both hard and happy times. My dad and Led Zepplin forever mingled in my heart.

Readers: Do you have a song or an album that helped you through a rough time?

Filed under: The Detective's Daughter Tagged: Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, Judy Colllins, Lawrence Welk, Led Zepplin, The Detective's Daughter

Novella Update

Barb, suffering away in lovely Key West. (Okay, not really.)

In August I announced that I was writing a Christmas novella for Kensington. At the time, I brimmed with optimism. Since my short stories are always too long, and my novels always too short, I thought the novella might be my natural home in the fiction world. In my blog post, I said I would check back in.

Since the novella is done and due on Friday, I thought this might be the time.

First things first, a cover reveal.

What do you think? I really like it. It fits with Leslie Meier‘s covers, and also quite nicely with the previous Christmas collections Kensington has published featuring Joanne Fluke, Laura Levine and Leslie. I am thrilled to be included, along with Leslie and Lee Hollis. I love the little skull floating in the eggnog cup.

I enjoyed working on the story very much. Before I wrote it, I read a bunch of Christmas crime novellas. They seemed to fall into two groups. Some authors used the structure of the traditional longer mystery–a victim, a pool of people with means, opportunity, and motive, and a sleuth who interviews them all and looks for clues to solve the crime. Other authors went a different route using more of a short story-like structure to write not so much a whodunnit?, but a whattheheckisgoingonhere? I went with the latter.

The most fun about the novella was that it was the first time in a long time that I wrote a book in the season in which it took place. This holiday season was crazy warm in in the east, even in Maine, and my story takes place in New York City and Busman’s Harbor during a more traditional early winter. So I couldn’t run outside to soak up the atmospherics, but I could run down the road to do research. Need a reminder of what L.L. Bean’s holiday decorations look like? No problem.

I loved incorporating the holiday traditions of my little town in Maine into the novella. For example, the Boothbay Harbor Pajama Party, when everyone gets up at six a.m. and Christmas shops in their pjs. (No kidding. I’ve written more about it here.) I incorporated other holiday traditions l’ve loved, including my cookie baking day and a festival of trees. Boothbay Harbor has one of these, but for the novella I borrowed liberally from the one Vida Antolin-Jenkins used to take me to on the naval base in Newport, RI when we were young mothers. Highly fictionalized, of course.

The length, 25,000+ words, a hundred or so pages, was, indeed, a natural one for me.

You’ll have to wait until next fall to tell me what you think, but I’m happy to be turning this tale in on Friday.

Filed under: Barb's posts Tagged: Boothbay Harbor Pajama Party, Eggnog Murder, joanne fluke, Kensington Books, Laura Levine, Lee Hollis, leslie meier, LL Bean Christmas, Vida Antolin-Jenkins

Welcome Guest — Vickie Fee

I’m delighted to welcome Vickie Fee to the Wicked blog! I think the name of her series is so clever. It’s the Liv and Di in Dixie Mystery series. Thank you so much for joining us today!

“How did you end up writing murder mysteries?” Implication being, “Why would a nice woman like you write about murderers?” I’ve been asked this question quite a few times since word got out that my debut novel, Death Crashes the Party, was to be published.

It started innocently enough for me. See if any of the telltale signs apply to you.

You might be a mystery writer if:

While driving you work out scenes, saying the dialogue out loud. At a stoplight you notice the driver in the car beside you staring. You begin to nod your head rhythmically as if you are singing along with the radio instead of talking to yourself or your imaginary friends.

While watching mystery movies with friends and loved ones you feel the need to point out significant clues and red herrings.

You explain to companions how you knew who the killer was early on in the movie. They say, “Oh, I bet you read the book.” You pretend you read the book even if you didn’t so you don’t seem like a wise acre.

They say the average person walks past a serial killer 26 times in his or her life. You observe people in malls, restaurants and libraries trying to pick those people out of the crowd.

You’re sitting in a meeting at the day job, with the boss droning on and on. You’re trying to listen with one ear just in case, but your mind is elsewhere. You are not unique in this. Everyone in the meeting is thinking about something else. Only they’re thinking about what they’re going to have for lunch or do this weekend. You’re thinking about them, what kind of character you’d make them in your novel and how you’d describe them.

You notice Bob from accounting sitting next to you is staring out the window. Snow has begun to fall. You can almost read his mind. He’s fantasizing about a vacation on a tropical island. You start writing the scene for him in your head, describing him sitting on a white sand beach with turquoise water lapping against the shore, a fruity cocktail crowned with a little umbrella in his hand. Then you leave Bob and begin to walk down the beach. It’s now your vacation and you’re collecting seashells along the shore. You spot something shiny peeking through the dune. You brush sand away and see it’s a ring – adorning the finger of a dead hand, connected to a very dead body buried in the sand. You wave and call out for help.

The police arrive and naturally suspect you, since you discovered the body. But you know this body has no connection to you. You’re on vacation thousands of miles from home. You never could have afforded a vacation like this if you hadn’t won it in a raffle. Especially, since your financial planner absconded with your life savings.

The police identify the body as your financial planner. You become their prime suspect. You understand that the two of you showing up on the same tiny tropical island at the same time is a huge coincidence. Has the killer orchestrated all this – you winning the vacation and being on hand when the body’s discovered – to frame you for murder? Who is this killer? Then you remember Bob from accounting sitting on the beach, trying to look innocent as he sips on his drink with the little umbrella in it.

Suddenly you turn to look Bob in the face, but he’s gone. In fact, everyone at the meeting has gone to lunch and you’re sitting alone at the conference table.

This is kinda, sort of the way it started for me. Readers: What about you? Do you display the symptoms of being a mystery writer or incurable mystery reader? What’s your story?

Author Bio:

Vickie Fee grew up on a steady diet of Nancy Drew, daydreams and sweet iced tea. Originally from Memphis, she now lives in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with her husband, John. If she cranes her neck slightly, she can see Lake Superior from her office/guestroom window. Her debut novel, Death Crashes the Party, came out December 29, 2015.

After earning a journalism degree, she spent many years as a reporter covering small Southern towns populated with characters much like those in her books’ fictional town of Dixie, Tennessee. When not writing, Vickie enjoys reading mysteries and watching B movies from the 1930s and ‘40s. She’s currently working on the next book in the Liv and Di in Dixie mystery series, published by Kensington. Learn more about Vickie and her books at www.vickiefee.

Filed under: Guest posts Tagged: Death Crashes the Party, Liv and Di in Dixie, Vickie Fee

Wicked New England — Favorite Wintertime Activities

If New England is known for anything it is its winters. So Wickeds, do you embrace winter? Avoid it? What’s your favorite part of winter in New England? What’s your favorite activity?

Liz: I think you all know me well enough to know I strongly dislike winter. Being cold has never been my thing. As a kid, my parents took us skiing, and that didn’t work so well either. The last memory I have on the slopes is at 15. I sat in a pile of snow off the trail, one leg facing the wrong way, one ski on its own way down the mountain. The only thing winter is good for is long nights of writing, because it’s too darn cold to leave the house and do anything else!

Odd shadow selfie of Edith on skis.

Edith: I’m a native southern Californian, so I was imprinted with desert. But I love winter, even though I have poor circulation in my hands and feet. I discovered cross-country skiing in the early 80s and haven’t missed a season. Shoveling snow under a cerulean sky on a clear crisp post-storm morning when you’ve been housebound for a couple of days? Perfect. And then, as Liz says, winter is perfect for staying indoors and churning out word count as you watch flakes fall.

Jessie: When you are raised by New Englanders you experience a constant feeling of guilt if you don’t get outside and do something when the weather is good. Throughout the growing season reading, knitting, sleeping in are all undermined by a sense of squandered opportunities. But in winter, there is no taint to the enjoyment of indoor pursuits. So, I contentedly put dinner in the slow cooker and settle back to binge read Scandanavian crime novels.

Sherry: Skiing, snowboarding, ice skating…they aren’t for me. I love the occasional ride down a steep hill in a sled but other than that I much prefer sitting inside and watching snowflakes swirl by the window.

Julie: I am not a winter fan. Because I rely on the T, and have a bit of a walk to get to the stations, commuting is my winter sport. Seriously. I don’t like to propel my body on ice or snow, so most winter sports are out. Aside from the outdoor sport of getting my 10,000 steps a day (which doesn’t vary season to season), my other winter sports are drinking red wine, writing, binge watching shows on Netflix and Amazon, creating crock pot adventures, figuring out the best way to battle hat head, and exploring different ways of layering clothes that keep me warm in every environment.

Barb: My idea of winter activities–

Edith: Ya had to rub that in, didn’t you, Barb?

Readers:

Do you have a favorite winter activity?

 

Filed under: Wicked New England Tagged: cross-country skiiing

Wicked Wednesday — Creative Outlets

We obviously all love to write but is there any other way you express your creative self? Any hobbies you had in the past but gave up? Anything you’ve wanted to try but never found the time?

Liz: I love to color. Always have. As I got older, every now and then I’d buy one and pretend it wasn’t for me. Then I’d lock myself away for a good coloring session. Now that adult coloring books are all the rage, I don’t have to hide my habit anymore! I got a “Mindfulness” coloring book for Christmas, along with an awesome giant Christmas coloring and activity book. I colored a Christmas picture, and Finny thought I did a pretty good job.

Edith: I have always wanted to do community theater. I can be a little bit of a ham (cf. past Crime Bake banquets – yes, girls?), love costumes, and think acting on a local level would be great fun. I pictured doing theater in my retirement. But since retirement is nowhere in sight, I guess I’m putting that off. I also love sewing, and I do manage to sneak some of that in now and then.

Before- Back garden in Old Orchard Beach.

After- Back garden in Old Orchard Beach.

Jessie: I’ve mentioned many times how much I love to knit. It is probably my most reached for creative outlet besides writing but I do have a couple of others. I love to throw parties with themes. I plan everything to the theme from the inviations to the food. And I also love home and garden renovations. I love to take a house or a garden and change it from a before to an after.

Barb: I’ve mentioned that I’m a scrapbooker. I’ve been doing it less since I’ve had writing deadlines, because, honestly, I don’t need to spend more time sitting on my &*% telling stories. The elusive hobby that’s always out there for me, but I never commit to, is genealogy. I’m curious. I keep trying to fob it off on various cousins and second cousins, but no one is biting. I have a feeling it’s going to be me.

Sherry: I love photography! It seems to me that lots of writers like to take photos. I won an award years ago for a photo I took at sunset in Destin, Florida. It won an honorable mention in a nationwide contest sponsored by Strategic Air Command, so I always jokingly say that I’m an award winning photographer. The picture to the right is one of my favorites from this year. I took it at our friends’ ranch in California.

Julie: I love to color too. In fact, I gave all the adults in my life coloring books for Christmas. I also knit, used to cross stitch more than I do now. Honestly, my biggest creative outlet is enjoying the creativity of others these days. Enjoying a play or concert, going to a gallery or museum, perusing a craft fair. I am thinking about going to a Paint Nite with some friends soon. Who knows, maybe I’m a painter?

Readers: Do you have a favorite creative outlet?

Filed under: Wicked Wednesday Tagged: garden renovation, home renovation, knitting, old orchard beach, photography, throwing parties