Kathy Lynn Emerson's Blog, page 10

Just Something That Happened

Dorothy Cannell: In April my husband, Julian, and I visited our son and daughter-in-law[image error] in Arizona.  Our return was delayed a couple of days due to bad weather, and the only flight that could be rescheduled left at midnight with a stopover in Philadelphia.  Additionally, we weren’t able to sit together, but as we were separated by only a couple of rows, each on aisle seats, that was no problem for us.  I have a tendency to be oblivious to what’s going on around me when my hands and mind are occupied so I missed what was happening behind me before take-off.  Then I heard a female voice exclaim, “She so mean to me. So mean to me.”  I looked up from stowing my bag under the seat and saw a flight attendant standing in the aisle and realized from what the attendant was saying that she was attempting to deal with a disgruntled passenger in an aisle seat.

“We can’t have this,” the attendant said.

“She got up to put a bag in the over-head bin and then to go to the bathroom and I had to get out of my aisle seat each time,” snapped back the woman in the aisle seat.

By now I had turned my head.  Standing was a young woman seeking the middle seat in the row, obviously the one I’d first heard because the same words came again.  “She so mean to me.”  The accent (to my less than knowledgeable ear) sounded Hispanic.  I wondered how fluent she might be in English and if not how this frustrating this must be for her.  She was visibly on the verge of tears.  The woman in the aisle seat then bellowed an irate explanation of her view point to the flight attendant.  I offered to change seats with the young woman.

“We can’t have this,” said the flight attendant.  I thought she meant I couldn’t exchange seats.  Then I realized she was repeating her earlier words about the situation because she turned toward the young woman, “You do realize that if you move she will still be behind you.”

The exchange was made, the flight attendant moved off, and I settled in next to the ‘difficult’ woman. She engaged in a gushing monologue about her visit to Arizona and where she was headed.  Unfortunately, it was Maine and I hoped we’d be separated by the length of the plane when we boarded our connecting flight in Philadelphia.  We were interrupted before I’d got out more than “Really” and “How nice,” by a by teenage boy asking if he could get through to the window seat.

“You can” snarled the woman, “so I must get up again!”

Within minutes of this being accomplished a woman in a uniform that did not resemble those worn by any of the flight attendants stopped opposite our row.  “I need you to come with me,” she said in a level voice to the woman seated next to me.

“I can’t,” was the annoyed – irate response, “I’ve already been up and down enough.  My bags are here.  I’m not leaving my bags.  Why should I move?  That girl …” It went on, but she was cut off, by the firm voice from what I now realized was Security.

“You will come with me NOW.  Your luggage will be brought to you,” the security agent commanded.  The woman got up to the accompaniment of furious mutterings and soon disappeared down the aisle.

Julian leaned across to me and whispered:  “They’ll punish her by putting her in first class.”  A moment later a man poked his head up from the seat behind. “You wouldn’t believe the things she said to that young woman.  “Awful.  Hateful.” Other voices joined in condemnation of the behavior and appreciation of how well the situation had been handled.

[image error]Julian was right about the woman being put in a better seat where she could be kept a close eye on, because we saw her in the deplaning area when we got off.  The young woman came up to me and thanked me for changing seats.  Her English wasn’t good, but her eyes said so much.

I am going back to Arizona next week, which is what reminded me of this incident, and I remembered an article I read years ago about emotional IQ and a mention of Henry James.  When James was asked by a nephew what were the three ingredients to a successful life, he replied:  “To be Kind. To be Kind. To be kind.”

I did what any of us would do in similar circumstances; it cost me nothing but a few moments of time.  I’d like to think it costs even less not to cause unnecessary distress.  Nastiness belongs in fiction, which Henry James proved so well in The Turn of The Screw.

I had purchased a pin from the Green Store in Belfast which says, “Try to be kind.”  I plan to wear it often – especially when I travel.

Happy reading,

Dorothy

WHY MAINE?

Susan Vaughan here. Although I’m a native West Virginian, after forty years living n the [image error]Mid-Coast, I consider Maine home. (Except to native Mainers, I’m still “from away.”) My husband and I discovered the beauty of the Pine Tree State on a summer trip that landed us in Bar Harbor the day before we had to head south. One tour of Acadia National Park’s Ocean Drive and Cadillac Mountain, and we knew we had to return the next summer.

We did, and the summer after that and the summer after that, spending two weeks camping at Mount Desert Campground. We took a deep breath and applied to school districts along the Maine coast. After being hired, we quit our teaching jobs in the Maryland suburbs of D.C., and here we are, now retired.

But the Maine coast and Acadia National Park are only two answers to the question in the above title. Maine has so much more natural beauty to offer beyond the rocky coast—the mountains, the streams, the lakes, the state parks. I love the ocean, but the state’s lakes are special places. During our early years here, we made certain to explore.

Columbus Day gave us teachers the weekend free for leaf peeping like tourists. We stayed [image error]at a friend’s log cabin at Rangeley Lake, a rented one by Moosehead Lake, and another by Millinocket Pond with a view of Mt. Katahdin. We haven’t yet visited Maine’s inland attraction, the newly designated Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument, but it’s on the list for a fall weekend.

Maine’s people are also high on the list of assets. It’s been said that Maine is a small town, and I can attest to that if it means neighbors helping neighbors. Last summer I was comforted by the small-town vibe. I signaled a left turn and stopped at an intersection on the two-lane highway. Behind me, I heard the screech of tires and brakes. In the rearview mirror I saw the car that had been following me (too closely) go airborne, swing a 180, and bounce into the ditch on the opposite side of the road. It didn’t hit me, and no one, thank goodness, was injured. I made my turn (to get out of the middle of the highway) and called 911. The other driver in the ditch and lifted her three-year-old out of the back. She’d looked back at her child and didn’t see that I had stopped. Yes, that could’ve been worse—for all three. Official vehicles arrived quickly. No photo of that incident or of the hug. I didn’t have the foresight to know I’d need it for this post.

Here’s the Maine-small-town thing. The police officer knew me because I’d taught with his wife. More pickups with official bubbles atop their cabs pulled up. One guy came over and said, “Mrs. Vaughan, are you okay?” I recognized him as one of my former students. We had a hug and I thanked him for his caring, which was especially touching because his fire station wasn’t where the accident occurred, but two towns away.

[image error]Maybe it’s the clear air or the beauty or the people, but something here has lured creative people over the decades. Art galleries and museums are everywhere. In my corner of the Mid-Coast, in Rockland, we have the Center for Maine Contemporary Art, on Winter Street. The CMCA’s amazing building is itself a work of art. Exhibitions change but all feature works by artists with ties to the state of Maine. Starting in July, the featured is John Bisbee, an exhibit titled “American Steel.”

[image error]Just across Main Street, is the world-class Farnsworth Museum, with a range of exhibits in more than one building.  Some of my favorite paintings are by the famous Wyeth family—N.C., Jamie, and Andrew. Now through December, the Farnsworth is featuring an exhibit by Chinese dissident-artist Ai Weiwei, titled “Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads: Gold.”

Maine has been an inspiration to me as a writer. I’m not sure I’d have had the courage to [image error]think I could write for publication if I hadn’t moved here. I’d never met a “real” author or artist or musician, but in this state, they’re thick on the ground. Getting to know some local authors led me to start that first manuscript, something I’d considered for years. And now I’m the author of fourteen published novels, the latest, DARK VISION, now in paperback, part of the DARK Files series.

So why Maine for you? If you have more answers to my question, or questions, please leave a comment.

 

Crime Fiction—Agent of Social Change

Hi. Barb Ross here. Please welcome Maine author Charlene D’Avanzo back to the blog. Today Charlene writes about something I also strongly believe in–fiction as a vehicle of social change.

Welcome, Charlene!

[image error]Not long ago I was a college professor who wrote marine biology research papers—but not one word of fiction. Now I don’t teach at all, three books in my Maine Oceanographer Mara Tusconi mystery series are published, and number four is in the works. As an ecologist, belief in the power of fiction as a vehicle of social change motivated me to leave my job and write mysteries with climate change understories.

Many prominent mystery authors have societal agendas, including women’s rights. Dorothy Sayers’ Gaudy Night is the work of an ardent feminist—and Kinsey Millhone (Sue Grafton), V. I. Warshawski (Sara Paretsky), Stephanie Plum (Janet Evanovich) and Mary Russell (Laurie King) are certainly not your stay-at-home ladies.

[image error]Mystery authors also take discrimination head on. Walter Mosley exposes issues of race, poverty, and privilege with L.A. African American detective Easy Rawlins. In his eighteen book series Tony Hillerman explores similar themes for native peoples in the canyons, mesas, and deserts of Arizona’s Navajo Reservation.

In fact, I can’t think of any mystery/crime author who doesn’t seriously deal with some pressing social issue in their stories.

In this age of fake news and uncertain sources, why is fiction such a powerful vehicle for social change messages? Four years ago in a Sun piece titled “On Writing, Politics, and Human Nature” Barbara Kingsolver explained it this way:

[image error]Novels are an interesting way to cultivate a person’s trust. I like reaching people with information that perhaps they wouldn’t have accepted if it had been presented in a nonfiction book. Couched in fiction, ideas that might otherwise seem foreign or even unwelcome begin to seem reasonable, because the reader trusts the character and identifies him or her as somehow a member of the tribe. The character’s transformation is more compelling than a newspaper article about a stranger from another place.

As a cli-fi (climate fiction) author, I was astounded and delighted by the popularity of Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior. It’s not a traditional mystery, but there’s plenty of mystery in the story. In the Sun article Kingsolver says “Flight Behavior is an exploration of our tendency to avoid or deny unwelcome news, even when this denial is likely to ruin us”.

Then she adds—“It’s never irresponsible to speak of hope. It’s irresponsible to give up.”

I’m going to print these two sentences in big letters and post them above my computer. Given the actual and social climate these days, I need to be reminded about hope.

[image error]Charlene D’Avanzo received a Mystery Writers of America award for her Cold Blood, Hot Sea (book one in the series) submission and Demon Spirit, Devil Sea (book two) won an IPPY award. Most recently, her short story appeared in “Best New England Crime Stories 2017: Snowbound”. Charlene has written about the connection between sea kayaking, boating, and writing for Maine Boats, Homes, and Harbors and Atlantic Coastal Sea Kayaker. An avid sea-kayaker, a sport key in her mysteries, Charlene lives on Little John Island in Yarmouth, Maine. A longer version of this commentary appeared in Sisters in Crime First Draft in January, 2018.

My Number-One Piece of Advice for Self-Published Authors

I’ve been trying to think of photos to include in this post that are relevant to what I’m talking about because Barbara Ross says we should definitely include visuals to break things up in our posts. Barb is brilliant, and I rarely disagree with anything the woman says. However, I still can’t come up with anything particularly relevant as a visual here, so this post is peppered with photos of Magnus and Marji, our Maine coon and Mississippi mutt. Because the pain of honest self-publishing advice may be mitigated by Cat and Puppy, or at least that is the hope. 

Early this month, I was very pleased to appear as a guest on a panel on the various avenues for authors in publishing today, at the Maine Crime Wave in Portland. There was a lot to get to, however, and not much time at the end of the day to actually address everything, so I thought I would take this opportunity to answer one of the questions I never got to on the panel.

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This just happens to be one of the questions I get most frequently from self-published and would-be self-published authors, and also happens to be the thing I consider to be the most important tip I give during my workshops and seminars on self-publishing. That question:

What is your number-one piece of advice to help an indie author succeed today?

The answer, sadly, is not what most writers want to hear.

Before I tell you what it is, I’ll qualify this by saying that my response varies depending on how you define success. If you simply mean you’d like to finish your novel, have it professionally produced, and then see it on your bookshelf and the bookshelves of those nearest and dearest to you…well, then, all you really need to do is focus, take a look at the mountain of information available to self-published and traditionally published authors alike, and have at it. If you’re intent on finding a traditional publisher, of course, this route is not so easy, but if you don’t care about sales and you just want to self-publish a book that looks good, you can totally do that.

In my experience, however, most writers mean a little more than simple production when they say they want to succeed as an author. The number of books they’d like to sell varies, of course, but just about everyone wants to sell something. 

And that, friends, is where the heartache begins.

Because my number-one piece of advice to those writers, without exception, is the last thing they want to hear:

Write more books.

In this world of literally millions of authors trying to entice a limited pool of readers, one book by one more author barely makes a ripple. Two books stand a better shot. Three and you’re really getting somewhere. Four… Now you’re talking. And once you hit books five and six, you’re ready for the big time.

This is an entirely different animal than the traditional publishing model, where everything is riding on the commercial success of that first book. Most traditionally published authors (I’m speaking particularly of those published with the Big 4 – or 3, or however many major publishing houses there are now) don’t even get a shot at that second book in the series if the first doesn’t sell well. Smaller publishing houses may be more patient and/or forgiving, but there’s still a lot of pressure on those first titles.

In self-publishing, however, today’s conventional wisdom is to not even bother releasing your first book until you have book two done and book three well on its way. If you’re able to do that, the most successful indie authors then release a book either every month or every three months, depending on the genre (every month for romance and possibly science fiction; every three months for mysteries, as readers aren’t quite as voracious as they may be in the aforementioned niches). Take note that this is for the first three books in the series, not a publishing schedule to be maintained for the life of one’s career. Though some do that. Personally, I think the writing too often suffers as a result.

Having subsequent books written or well on their way before the first one is out means you don’t fall into the dangerous self-publishing trap of trying to write and release three or more books every year. Writing well requires percolation, and this kind of pace means you get no space from your manuscript before you’re sending it off to the editor. If you can be patient and just work with those first books on your own, you can (at least in theory) take as long as you like to write and perfect them before sending them out into the world.

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Once the third book is out, you’re able to pull the trio together into a box set. This is where the magic starts to happen. After that, you can take a little bit of a breather while you work on the next book (or books) in the series.

But what if I write stand-alone literary mysteries, you ask?

Honestly? Then, consider the first thing I mentioned in this post: What is your idea of success? If it’s to sell well and receive critical attention, head to the closest mystery convention and start talking to agents. Even then, though, be prepared to at least consider what a sequel might look like. Yes, authors like Gillian Flynn and Donna Tartt have made names for themselves for their stand-alone, literary/psychological thrillers, and other recent hits like The Girl on the Train mean there are still publishers who will take a chance on these rare gems, but they are definitely not the norm (Stephen King and the other well-established mainstream authors notwithstanding, of course).

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I know that all of this sounds clinical and cynical and, frankly, not that much fun. I suppose it is all of the above, in some ways. But in other ways, I think it’s a liberating way to approach things. Right now, I’m in the process of finishing up the third book in my Flint K-9 Search and Rescue series. After that, I have a three-book arc I’m doing for my Erin Solomon series, with the lofty goal of finishing all three prior to publication, and then publishing one every three months once they’re complete. In theory at least, that means I’m then free to devote my time to marketing and promotion for the subsequent nine months, without desperately trying to get the next book done. I’m terrified about approaching things in this way, but I’m also genuinely excited about what it may mean when the trilogy is complete. I’ll keep you posted on how things go and whether I end up abandoning the whole notion as the months wear on, but at the very least I think it’s an experiment worth trying.

If you’re agonizing about getting your first book out there, or that first book is already out and you’re busy pounding the pavement desperately trying to get sales and attention, I encourage you to take a step back. Waiting isn’t fun, but the process of writing that second book is hugely beneficial. You learn more about your characters, you learn more about the craft of writing itself, and you have that much more time to build a mailing list, get your website and social media in order, and get feedback (and potentially reviews) from beta readers and fellow authors. And by the third book, your characters are old friends and this whole writing thing is a piece of cake. Sort of. Okay, not really. But the bit about the characters is true, at least.

And that is my number-one piece of advice for self-published authors. I’d love to hear how you feel about it, whether you’re a reader or an indie or traditionally published author yourself. Do you think you’d have the patience to keep one or even two books on the shelf while you write the next in the series?

Jen Blood is the USA Today-bestselling author of The Erin Solomon Mysteries and the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue Mysteries, and teaches workshops on self-publishing throughout New England. To learn more, visit her website at www.jenblood.com. 

Weekend Update: June 23-24, 2018

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Jen Blood (Monday) Barb Ross (Tuesday), Susan Vaughan (Wednesday), Dorothy Cannell (Thursday), and Lea Wait (Friday).

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

A reminder about our contest:

This one should be a lot of fun, and we hope to see entries from many of you.[image error] The subject: Where Would You Put the Body?

The contest: Send us a photograph of the place you’d put a body, along with a description of why you chose that spot.

Where do you send it? To writingaboutcrime@gmail.com

What will you win? This nifty Poe tote bag and a bunch of books and other goodies.

What’s the deadline? Thursday, June 28th. Grab your camera and send us those pics.

We are getting some great photos and we’d love to see yours.

And speaking of photographs, here is a Maine sunset:

 

 

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

We Interrupt This . . . Everything

Kate Flora: If you read Vaughn Hardacker’s post yesterday, you’ll have gotten the idea–writing a finished book isn’t as simple as doing a draft and you’re done. I’ve always said that story goes in in the first two drafts and craft in the next three. Of course, depending on deadlines, there may not be time for five drafts, but every book goes through a lot of revision between the writer’s clever idea and the story that ends up on the printed page.

Right now, I’m coming into the end zone on the sixth Joe Burgess mystery at a time of

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The garden is calling

year when life is rather chaotic. We’re back in Maine at the cottage, and one thing after another is breaking. I’m trying to tend gardens in two locations while replacing a dishwasher and some windows. It seems like I am always in the house that needs toilet paper when I’m trying to find the sweater that’s in my other closet. In short, I am trying to write a book while in a state of perpetual confusion.

Here is how confusion is manifesting itself right now. I am writing a scene where Joe Burgess visits his crime victims in the hospital. They are children, and don’t speak English. I write the scene and then try to do the laundry, but just as I’m putting the dark clothes in the washer, a little voice in my head says: But you haven’t given your reader any sense of those children. You’ve left out the critical emotion in the scene.

Washer gets started. Scene gets fixed. It is time to go outside and do battle with my nemesis, goutweed. I am wearing my tick-proof clothing and knee pads, down on all fours, weeding under the hydrangeas, when the little voice speaks again: When Burgess interviews the translator, you need to let the reader see her and feel her distress at what has happened to these girls. Goutweed removed, I shed my protective gear and rewrite the scene.

So Burgess and Kyle are about to go to lunch and I am about to drive to the grocery store so the writer and her husband can also have lunch, when the voice comes back. Listen, it says, you just had Burgess and Kyle walk through that interview. It’s flat. It’s boring. You haven’t made them suspicious of the seemingly nice guy they are interviewing. Get back to your desk and put some tension into that scene. Make it subtle now. Make it subtle.

So this is what it’s like. Writers are people who are supposed to hear voices in their heads, telling them what to do. My voice has gotten a bit vociferous of late. I think this is  because I gave it two uninterrupted weeks of obsessive writing recently and now it believes it is entitled to be listened to all the time. Striking the balance between writing and all the other demands of life can be difficult. Sometimes, even though it is rude, I have to tell the voice to be quiet and leave me alone.

Can’t, the voice says, readers are waiting for Burgess six and you don’t want to keep them waiting.

I agree. But shouldn’t there also be time for cloud watching?

Voice says okay. So tomorrow, when I go to the Farmer’s Market, I expect to take that nagging voice with me. Will it let me buy veggies before it starts asking what happens next?

Stay tuned.

Now The Work Begins!

Vaughn Hardacker here: Recently I completed a novel that I’ve tentatively titled The Exchange. The plot is a crime thriller in which my protagonist (named Dylan Thomas–his mother was a fan of the poet) is a former state police detective who left the paramilitary world of law enforcement to become a lawyer. To survive while attending law school he became a private investigator [image error]and after passing the bar maintained his status as an investigator. He is on an ice fishing weekend in northern Maine when he receives a call from his sister, Caitlan (named for Thomas’s wife) who is extremely distraught…her three years-old daughter has gone missing and the police believe that she and her husband are responsible. Dylan takes on the role of attorney for his sister and her husband and uses his investigative skills to seek the perpetrator. He learns that the child has been abducted to be sold in an adoption plot. The investigation will lead him through Maine to Boston where the scheduled exchange is to take place.

That’s the first draft. Now the real work begins. Hallie Ephron once said, “To write is heavenly; to rewrite is divine…” Well, I’ve achieved heavenly, now I have to strive for divinity. I set the finished first draft aside for several months (hoping to be able to edit…rewrite…naively. If I immediately jump into the process while the plot and novel are still fresh in my mind I find it impossible to identify the areas that must be:

clarified. Things that my brain knew and thought I included in the manuscript.
Expounded upon. Those things that lead the reader to understand the various characters, their motivations, and their actions.
Deleted. This is the hard one. Identifying those sections where I have deviated from the plot (no matter how interesting the deviation) and do not move it forward. In many instances this is where I have to “Kill my darlings” (I wish I knew who first said that!)
Redundancies: eliminate scenes/sections that were previously written or information that is already understood.

In his book on writing Stephen King stated that once he finished a first draft he set the manuscript aside for a period of time and then wrote it again from scratch (That’s the true definition of a rewrite! I don’t have that much discipline. I do a line by line edit of the document in my word processor–I’ve been told that King does all of his writing in longhand on pads of paper). He also states that his object is to contact the manuscript size by 10%. For some reason my word count doesn’t vary that much as steps 1 and 2 above seem to replace those darlings I removed.

Once I have completed the second draft, I give the manuscript to my first readers with the instruction to ignore grammar and spelling. That will get caught during the final edit from my publisher. What I want them to concentrate on are the four items listed above. I also try not to have only writers as a first reader, I want readers who will read the work and give me their honest opinion on what worked for them and more importantly what did not. People who will not placate me but will tell it to me straight. I am lucky as I have several who will give me constructive honest feedback. Sometimes its hard  to handle all that truth!

In closing. As many of you may know the Maine Literary Awards were held last week and four of us who regularly blog here were finalists in the Crime Fiction Category (from left to right):

Yours truly[image error] for my novel: Wendigo

Sandra Neily for her novel: Deadly Trespass

Dick Cass for his novel: In Solo Time

Kate Flora for her novel: Death Warmed Over

 

Congratulations to Dick Cass for taking home this year’s award. As for me, this was my third time as a finalist in the past four years and that ain’t bad for a hermit from Aroostook County!

My Pictures From 2018 Crimewave

MaineCrimeWave was a lot of fun this year. I got to sit on two panels. One was about writing compelling endings. The other was about conflict.[image error]

Here’s a picture of me with F. Lee Bailey, the keynote speaker. What a talk he gave.[image error]Douglas Preston was awarded the 2018 Crimemaster Award and was also a fascinating speaker.

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HerI am below on a panel with authors Daniel Palmer and Brenda Buchanantalming about writing Compelling Endings.

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Here’s one of the gang below. Not all of us made it that photo. Tough getting all the crime writers in one picture.[image error]

 

 

Mapping Moosetookalook

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here, today talking about maps. I love maps. They are so much better than GPS—but that’s another story.

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When I was writing historical novels, I searched for every map I could find, both contemporary and historical, trying to make sure my locations were as accurate as I could make them. When I create a fictional place, whether it’s a house or a whole town (or even a whole county) I need to sketch it out on paper to see where things are in relation to one another. I am no artist, but I can use a ruler and a pencil, so I make floor plans for my houses and road maps for my towns. I’d love to have these appear in my published books, but so far only the ones I wrote as Kate Emerson have included professionally drawn maps. I’m given to understand that such things are expensive, and since I have no talent in that area myself, it doesn’t seem likely any will appear in the Kaitlyn Dunnett novels.

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That said, a while back a reader named Mark Roberts sent me a message on Facebook and included his map of downtown Moosetookalook, based on reading several of the Liss MacCrimmon mysteries. He wanted to know if it was accurate.

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It wasn’t far off, and it triggered an exchange of emails that resulted in my sending him a copy of my amateurish sketch. Mark offered to turn it into a proper map of the area around the town square. Of course I accepted. What writer wouldn’t?

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The project was complicated by the fact that several of the shops around the town square have had more than one owner. Amazing how many murderers and murder victims there have been in that part of town! We wanted to avoid spoilers, but it would have been confusing to put just the current owner (as of the eleventh book, X Marks the Scot) or only who occupied them in the first (Kilt Dead), so Mark had to devise a way to show all the owners (to date—who knows who will end up dead or in jail in future books?). The other problems was that, like most towns that have been around for a couple of hundred years, Moosetookalook’s streets don’t form a perfect grid. They curve. They go off at odd angles. That said, the streets around the town square are more uniform than most. They get downright twisty for the part of Moosetookalook not shown on the downtown map. Mark did a wonderful job and you can see the final result at the top of this post.

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My “working” map of all of Moosetookalook is drawn on a desk-blotter size piece of graph paper taped to the back of my office door. It’s in pencil, because I make changes in it from time to time, as well as lots of additions. It comes in handy when I forget where I’ve put a minor character’s house or a grocery store. And, truthfully, since I’m directionally challenged, it helps to have that map handy when I can’t remember if Liss should turn left or right when she leaves Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium to go to The Spruces.

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What about you, readers? Do you still use road maps, or has modern technology taken their place? Do you like to find maps of fictional places in the novels you read? And if there are none, do you ever draw one for yourself?

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Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett is the author of more than fifty-five traditionally published books written under several names. She won the Agatha Award and was an Anthony and Macavity finalist for best mystery nonfiction of 2008 for How to Write Killer Historical Mysteries and was an Agatha Award finalist in 2015 in the best mystery short story category. She was the Malice Domestic Guest of Honor in 2014. Currently she writes the contemporary Liss MacCrimmon Mysteries and the “Deadly Edits” series (Crime & Punctuation—2018) as Kaitlyn and the historical Mistress Jaffrey Mysteries (Murder in a Cornish Alehouse) as Kathy. The latter series is a spin-off from her earlier “Face Down” mysteries and is set in Elizabethan England. Her most recent collection of short stories is Different Times, Different Crimes. Her websites are www.KaitlynDunnett.com and www.KathyLynnEmerson.com and she maintains a website about women who lived in England between 1485 and 1603 at A Who’s Who of Tudor Women.

 

Scene 1, Chapter 1, Bad News Travels Fast.

I know, I know. You’ve heard it all before. Authors say it all the time. “I’m finishing up my book on a deadline so I can’t blah blah blah.”

But it’s true! It happens. These babies don’t write themselves.

So, for my post today, either a special treat or a lame way to get out of writing a post, depending on your point of view, here’s the first scene in Bad News Travels Fast, the third in the Bernie O’Dea mystery series. It’s due out this fall.

Keep in mind, what you’re reading here hasn’t been edited or scrutinized by my publisher, so it’s either a special treat or an annoyingly raw scene. Again, depending on your point of view. [Don’t be concerned about typos, etc. It WILL be edited, it’s moving through the pipeline even as you read this. Thanks!]

I hope you enjoy it. Frankly, I’m a little sick of it.

Without further ado, Chapter 1, Scene 1, of BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST:

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CHAPTER 1

Lydia Manzo lay dying less than a mile from where she’d wandered off the Appalachian Trail.

She lay dying less than half a mile from where searchers passed not once, not twice, but four times.

She lay dying as the search moved farther from her campsite in the deep Maine wilderness, then was scaled back.

She lay about as close to expiration as a human can be and still draw breath, for the rescue that was never going to come.

Then someone murdered her.

It was tragic, it was incomprehensible. And it was a secret.

“I don’t accept this.” Bernie O’Dea was too hyped up to sit down. She paced the  police chief’s office, bouncing on her toes.

“Bernie,” said Pete, the chief. “Bernadette, why don’t you sit down?”

She could feel his eyes following her, like one of those Jesus photos her parents’ old aunts all had. “As a newspaper editor, I don’t need anyone’s permission to write that someone killed her, I just need someone to say it on the record.” She stopped pacing to look pointedly at the fire chief, who sat with his arms crossed, long legs stretched out in front of him, in the corner, like he was hiding. Or being punished. Her look was wasted on him. He was looking at his feet. She turned back to Pete and tried the same look. It didn’t work with him, either.

“Please sit down,” he said. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Sit down? She was never going to sit down again. “She was murdered. You know it, I know it. Sandy knows it.” She glared at the fire chief again. “I don’t understand why I would write anything else.”

“Maybe she was murdered.”

“Maybe, Pete? MAYBE? It’s Sandy’s call,” Bernie said. “He saw what he saw. He’s the one who knows. He’s the goddam fire chief for chrissake. If people aren’t going to believe him, who will they believe?”

Sandy shifted, but didn’t look up. He face was bright red. She glared, trying to will him to look up, wondering how much of this maybe wasn’t even about Lydia Manzo at all.

“Bernie,” Pete said. “Bernadette. Please sit down and talk about this like the rational adult I know you are.”

She knew how she was acting. She knew she could never act this way with anyone but him. She was taking advantage. Sandy and Pete had already talked about it before she’d arrived that morning. She could tell. The fight went out of her and she sat down. The medical examiner’s report that she’d printed out before racing the two blocks from the newspaper office to the police station was twisted into a tight, damp knot in her hand. She opened it and smoothed it on her lap, feeling Pete’s eyes on her.

“This report,” she said, trying to sound calm. Trying to sound like the rational adult he thought he knew she was. “Is a piece of shit. How can they call it suicide two days after and not even investigate? And why would I not write what I already know to be true? I’m asking rationally.”

Pete took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what Sandy thinks he saw,” he said.

Sandy’s head jerked up and Bernie felt a nice punch of satisfaction. Come on, fella, get in the fight.

“It’s not my case,” Pete said. “It’s the state’s. They’ve ruled it a suicide. Every sign points to it being one.”

Bernie geared up to respond. Pete held up his hand.

“Including the Ziploc bag over her head,” he said. “And the fact that she was in a remote spot where no one would likely go to kill her. She was near death in the middle of nowhere, and that’s not only a suicide motive, but a really bad potential murder victim.”

“Don’t try to make it sound like it makes sense,” Bernie said. She turned to Sandy. “You’re sure of what you saw, right?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter? The medical examiner and the game wardens who carted her off didn’t see it and won’t back me up.”

Aw shucks, what me know something? “I can’t believe you guys,” Bernie said. “Fine pair you are.” She got up. “I have a newspaper to put out.”

“Bernie,” Pete said. She knew that voice. Caution. Slow down. Don’t go there.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s off the record. I’m not printing it, at least not until you two come to your senses.”

“I really am sorry,” Pete said as she walked to the door.

She knew he meant it, but she didn’t want to give in. “Sorry doesn’t help.”

“Lunch at noon?”

“You’re buying.” She closed the door—softly— knowing coming from her it had much more of an impact than a slam.