Kathy Lynn Emerson's Blog, page 29

Weekend Update: November 4-5, 2017

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

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

[image error]from Kaitlyn Dunnett: reviews are starting to come in for X Marks the Scot (in stores November 28). Kirkus Review says “Plenty of small-town atmosphere and deliciously dubious suspects lift this entry above the series average.” Publisher’s Weekly calls it “well-paced” and praises “the surprising denouement.” Suspense Magazine, where this is the first time a Liss MacCrimmon novel has been reviewed, says “you never know what’s coming next in this new Liss MacCrimmon Scottish Mystery. Best advice? Sit back and enjoy the ride.” This is #11 in the series. I’m just finishing up #12, which is due on my editor’s desk on December first.

 

 

 

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

Recharged

Bruce Robert Coffin here, wishing you all a happy November. I hope that you came out of our latest doozy of a storm relatively unscathed. Mother Nature has a habit of reminding us just how good we have it.

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Maybe it’s good that we occasionally get a taste of what life used to be like before everything became high-tech. How often do any of us really pause to think how different our lives would be without Edison’s most famous discovery? Think of the things we take for granted.

As a writer, one of the most obvious things we lose access to when the power goes out is our ability to charge every electronic gizmo we own, cell phones, iPads, Kindle readers. It’s funny how quick we are to embrace the latest gadgets that basically do the same things as items we already had. You want an example? How about books? I read one from cover to cover the other day and never once needed to recharge it.

Another thing that many of us take for granted are the libraries in our towns. During Maine’s latest power outage I took note of how many libraries, even those without power, that remained open and staffed. In small towns like Bar Harbor and Camden  libraries are the epicenter for many local activities, after school programs, crafts, storytelling, guest authors, and more.

In Camden the library was even given a place of prominence, sitting at the top of Main Street next to the town common, within walking distance to the local shops and eateries, it even boasts views of Camden Harbor and Mount Battie. Coincidence, you say? I think not. I’d say the town elders might have known a thing or two about the importance of reading.

By now you’re probably wondering why I’ve featured the Camden Library so heavily in this blog post. The reason is that I was scheduled to appear at that very library on Halloween night. I had been staying in town at a local hotel and closely monitoring their powerless plight. In spite of their predicament the staff pressed on, opening during the day to allow people to borrow and return books, as well as providing a central meeting place for people to congregate. On Halloween Day the library staff donned costumes and handed out candy to children who stopped by. I had begun to plan a rescheduling contingency when I was contacted by one of the library staff members who informed me that the library had decided to hold the event with or without power. They had even toyed with the idea of lighting the venue with candles, hoping to add to the Halloween mystique. How cool would that have been? Alas, fire safety concerns won out and the backup plan became moving the event to a local hotel conference space. As luck would have it, CMP was able to restore the library’s power several hours before I was scheduled to appear.

Still, many in the community were dealing with their own power outages and I feared nobody would show. I needn’t have worried. Two dozen locals turned out, once again reminding me just how hardy Mainers can be. And to those in attendance, I read a passage from my latest novel, Beneath the Depths, not from an IPad, or a Kindle, but from an actual book!

Haven’t visited your local library lately? Perhaps you should. Might just recharge your battery.

Tell ‘em Bruce sent you.

The Joys and Pitfalls of Rereading Old Favorites

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part of one keeper shelf

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here, today musing about rereading books. With so many new titles coming out every year, it’s always possible to find something new to read. Even if I limit myself to new books by authors I’ve read before, I have plenty of choices. But there are times when going back to a book I’ve already read is more appealing. Sometimes the mention of a title or an author in a news story or blog or conversation rekindles my interest. Other times I’m simply in the mood to revisit the fictional world of a specific book or series of books—comfort reads, if you will. Like most readers, I have keeper shelves full of books. I may never read some of them again, but can’t bear to get rid of them either. Some are paperbacks with print so small that I really can’t read them again, but I hang onto them anyway . . . and sometimes buy the ebook version for my iPad.

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the print is too small to read on these treasures

I won’t say I’ve never been disappointed in a reread. Writing styles change and some of the suspense novels I loved when I was younger seem terribly slow paced to me now. I’ve been trying to reread Mary Stewart’s Nine Coaches Waiting, which I remember as being thrilling, and have had a hard time getting into it because, frankly, nothing happens. When I finally got to the point where the heroine arrives at the house where she is to be employed, I found myself not much caring what happened next. On the other hand, I’ve listened to the audiobook version of Stewart’s Touch Not the Cat a number of times and always enjoy it.

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audiobook shelves

Speaking of audiobooks, I have to confess that I’m a dinosaur in this area. My car is old enough that it came with a cassette player. Thankfully, I can still find audiocassette editions online, and since I prefer to listen to books I’ve already read, I’ve amassed quite a nice little collection of (mostly) mysteries. Now that no one puts books on cassette tapes anymore, they are, by definition, oldies but goodies. I “reread” Elizabeth Peters, Carolyn G. Hart, Dorothy Dunnett, J. D. Robb, and others this way. Barbara Rosenblatt is my all-time favorite among audiobook narrators. I’ve just finished listening to Crocodile on the Sandbank for the fourth or fifth time and have moved on to The Curse of the Pharaohs. It doesn’t bother me at all that I know the plots. It’s the being read to that’s appealing.

That said, with most of the books I reread, it’s been long enough since the previous read that I’ve forgotten the details. I definitely don’t remember who dunnit. Just recently, I took Margaret Maron’s Bootlegger’s Daughter off my keeper shelf and was shocked to realize that it came out twenty-five years ago. It had been that long since I’d read it, too. I read all the books in the series as they came out, including the final entry just a year or so ago and I have a couple of them on audiocassettes, but I’d never gone back and reread the series from the beginning. Now I am, and they’re terrific reads, although I remembered them as being less dark. That could just be because I read more in the cozy genre these days than I used to. Anyway, I’m now up to number four, Up Jumps the Devil.

Every once in awhile I go even farther back in my past to a book I remember reading as a kid. Some hold up. Some don’t. I was delighted to find that The Lark Shall Sing by Elizabeth Cadell, a book I read and loved as a teenager (I still have the falling apart paperback edition, under the title The Singing Heart) had been reissued as an ebook, and that there were two more in the series that I’d not been aware of.  I promptly downloaded all three. The original was just as wonderful as I remembered. The second was enjoyable. I couldn’t get through the third.

[image error]In the past, I’ve binge read quite a number of series, everything from Dorothy Dunnett’s historical Lymond Chronicles to Carola Dunn’s cozy Daisy Dalrymple series and Charlaine Harris’s paranormal books featuring Sookie Stackhouse. When they finally came out as ebooks, I reread all of Charlotte MacLeod’s fun and funny mysteries. The only one I couldn’t get through was Curse of the Giant Hogweed, and if I remember correctly, I had trouble with that one the first time around.

[image error]For those of you who read romance, you know that there are lots of trilogies and multi-book series featuring siblings or characters bound together by some other shared experience. In the historical romance arena, I’ve done multiple rereads of Jo Beverly’s Company of Rogues, and her Mallorens, too, and of Mary Jo Putney’s Fallen Angels series, and Kasey Michaels’ Beckets of Romney Marsh. Among my favorite single-title romance rereads are Heather Graham’s Dante’s Daughter (to be read during football season for maximum enjoyment), Nora Roberts’ Hidden Treasures, and Susan Sizemore’s time travel, Wings of the Storm.

So what about you? What books do you go back to when you are in the mood for something familiar?

 

Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett is the author of more than fifty 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 and 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. New in 2017 is a collection of short stories, Different Times, Different Crimes. Her websites are www.KaitlynDunnett.com and www.KathyLynnEmerson.com

You’ve Really Read My Book?

Kate Flora: Last week was a busy one. Along with closing up our cottage for the winter,

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Barbara Ross, Kate Flora, and John Clark at the Shots Fired book launch

there was the book launch for Shots Fired on Thursday, and then I spent the weekend at a craft fair in Waterville with Barbara Ross and Lea Wait. Doing any book event with fellow writers is fun, because it gives us a chance to catch up–and Maine crime writers tend to be good friends. We talk about agents and editors, about plotting, and writing schedules, and where in the process we are, and sometimes other authors will drop in to chat, as Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett did on Saturday.

Doing a book with event with authors who have series mysteries with nicely matched[image error] covers and an appealing price point when my trade paper books are more expensive and have a mishmash of cover styles? Well, that’s more like being the clumsy kid who hopes to not be the last one picked for a team. This is especially hard when so many people are devouring their series books.

 

Despite my many years in the writing biz, I have never successfully conquered my Eeyore tendencies. You may find this hard to believe, but I am still amazed when someone looks at my array of books, points to them one by one, and says, “I’ve read this, and this, and this, and I’m waiting for you to write some more.” I am always tempted at that point to flee from the table, jump in my car, and head back to my office so I can give my readers what they want.

It’s even more amazing when someone has read all of my nonfiction–Finding Amy, Death Dealer, and A Good Man with a Dog and can discuss them in detail. But that happened on Sunday. So, even though I didn’t have it out on display, one woman knew so much about my work that I pulled out a copy of Shots Fired and showed her that. “I want it. I will definitely buy it.” And she actually went home to get some money. Obviously, this Eeyore was smiling.

As a female writer, even one who writes books as dark and gritty as the Joe Burgess

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Miramichi, New Brunswick Deputy Chief Brian Cummings with his copy of Shots Fired

police procedurals, I still expect that most of my readers will be female. I’ve even joked that I should have changed my name before publishing the Burgess books, since statistics show that male readers are more likely to limit their reading to books by men. But cops who’ve read the Burgess series say they think I understand the cop’s life better than some cops they know, so when a guy is browsing the table, I tend to steer him toward the Burgess books.

But, in yet another in a lifetime of lessons about not making assumptions about people, on Sunday a couple approached and looked at my books and asked if I was really Kate Flora. Eeyore admitted that she was, and the woman said that her husband was devouring my Thea Kozak series. He was as excited to meet the author as I was to meet the reader. (I wish I’d taken his picture, but he’s shy…) So he went away with a copy of A Good Man with a Dog, and I was left smiling. He goes in the “what a great guy” column along with the guy at a signing a few years ago who shyly told me that his wife had given him permission to date Thea.

So, for those of you out there who may think that you’re annoying authors by sending them e-mails or remarking on Facebook or Twitter that you’re loving their books–you are NOT annoying. You are giving your favorite author a much appreciated gift. We love photos of you with our books, like this one of Miramichi, New Brunswick Deputy Chief Brian Cummings with his copy of Shots Fired.

And now, for one of you who comments on this post, I have a gift for you–a bundle of three Level Best Crime story anthologies, a pumpkin cookie cutter, and the very special, reusable bag with the Kate Flora logo.

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Old School Trick or Treating

By the Maine Crime Writers

Were you a hippie or a hobo? A princess or a pirate? Did you dress up as a cartoon character, perhaps? Or maybe a cartoonish version of a politician or other famous personage of the day?

Halloween is the holiday those who love costumes look forward to all year, and may it always be so. These days, many kids show up at the door in what we used to call “store bought” costumes, assemblages that come complete in a package, mask, and all. But I’m always impressed by the number who resist the siren call of off-the-rack costumes for ones they dream up themselves.

This year the MCW crew has decided to celebrate the day by remembering our best/worst/most memorable Halloween costumes.  Some of us have photos to  bring it all back. The rest will have to use our descriptive skills to give you the idea.

Brenda Buchanan: The first Halloween costume I remember was actually store-bought, a pint-sized Smokey The Bear outfit (Smokey as a cub, I guess.) Mom knew I had a big thing for Smokey, and I was so proud and happy to be dressed like a little bear on my first trick-or-treat spin through the neighborhood.  I’m guessing I was four or five years old.  Halloween night was warm that year, and I had a full set of clothes on under the costume, so pretty soon I was sweating. The inside of the mask became damp with respiration, too. It kept slipping sideways, misaligning my eyes with the eyeholes. So I stumbled around a lot, and remember being kind of freaked out by the whole experience of half-seeing unrecognizable, masked kids careening in my direction. There are, alas, no photos of Brenda The Sweaty Bear.

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Me, as a horse (back-end), fourth grade

Barb Ross: Though my mother didn’t sew, she was always able to execute whatever crazy costume idea I came up with. In fourth grade, my friend Virginia convinced me to go in with her on a horse costume. She was horse-crazy, and could do a perfect human imitation of a trot and a canter, so she felt strongly that she should be the front-end, whereas my talents lay — to the rear. Her mother invited my mother over to “discuss the girls’ costume,” and served tea from a silver service. My mother said at that moment she knew she’d be making the entire thing. That Halloween I learned that walking the whole neighborhood bent over is a pain. Even worse are the homeowners who don’t see that second candy bag sticking out of the back-end of the horse.

Lea Wait [image error]My mother wasn’t big on costumes, so her solution for Halloween was to take what she could find. In this picture, taken when I was 6 and my sister was 3, I have no idea what we were supposed to be. But I do know I was wearing the embroidery usually found on the back of our baby grand piano. Who knows? Maybe it was originally a shawl. And probably it’s just as well the picture is out of focus. We could have been spirits! One Halloween I remember well Nancy and I had collected a lot of candy (score!) but Mom ran out of what she was distributing, and teenaged boys from a neighboring town (a rough one) started showing up, and they also ended up with all Nancy’s and my candy.

Maureen Milliken: I was always a fan of Halloween, but not so much the costume. I love candy. LOVE IT. But I don’t like dealing with clothing, or having to think too much about what I’m wearing. My number one goal is to be comfortable and not have to think of it. I can’t remember any of my Halloween costumes as a kid. Not one. I’m not making that up.

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That’s me, Maureen., the ghost, with my college friends. Junior year, Halloween 1981.

But in college, the goal was comfort, and to be able to eat and drink without the costume getting in the way and to not have any props to hold that would get in the way of holding food and drink. My first year in college — where getting costumed up was definitely a thing — our whole dorm floor went as the Blizzard of ’78, which involved wearing white and sticking together. I soon drifted off like a wind-blown squall. One year I dressed as my brother, who was a year behind me, wearing one of his Frank Zappa T-shirts and and army pants, and to further make the point, a sticker that said, “Hello, I’m Jim Milliken.” My biggest college triumph was junior year, when I really didn’t want to dress up or do anything, but just wanted to go to the school pub, where I believe a band was playing. My friends convinced me though, that I’d have more luck pursuing that fellow I had a crush on if I got costumed up and went out to the parties. So I took the most worn sheet, that my mom would miss the least when I came home at Christmas — flowered — cut two holes it in and presto! I was a ghost. I did find the guy, too. And as we were talking, he said, “Take off that ridiculous sheet. I can’t talk to you when you’re wearing that.” True love. We ended up dating for more than a year.

The only time I really put any effort into costume was after I was out of college and went to a party as Zippy the Pinhead. I spent days working on a papier-mache head and it came out quite well. It was at the home of a coworker at the Haverhill Gazette whose wife worked for the New Hampshire Union Leader. The following Monday, I had an interview at the Union Leader I got the job and worked there for 25 years. But I don’t think the Zippy costume had anything to do with it. That’s the last time I ever wore a Halloween costume, by the way. 1986

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson: I wish I still had the picture my father took of the “Lincoln Place Zoo.” Each street had a theme for the town’s Halloween parade. The photo showed an adult zookeeper in a pith helmet and (if I’m remembering correctly) a lion, a tiger, and a monkey. I’m not sure which one I was. Much later, since my birthday and Halloween are close together, I had a costume party to celebrate both. I was twelve.

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I remember setting up a fortune-telling corner, so I guess I was supposed to be a Gypsy, but looking at this picture now, it appears I was going for a highborn Spanish lady. At twelve, I’m not sure the distinction was all that important.

John Clark: I have a confession related to Halloween. Back in the early 1970s, I was dating a girl who was easily spooked. This was when the TV series Dark Shadows was popular. One Halloween night, we stopped so she could buy cigarettes. While she was in the store, I took the gum I was chewing and made it into a pair of upper fangs. When she got into the car, I turned and grinned at her. I’m certain the scream could be heard all over the south end of Rockland. Looking back, it wasn’t the nicest thing I’ve ever done. It’s also the closest to a costume I remember wearing.

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Susan Vaughan: My family wasn’t much for taking snapshots. I’m the only camera bug, so I have no photos of early costumes. My dad was the one who helped me with various getups. No ready-made costumes back then, at least none we could afford. My mom didn’t sew, so he had the challenges cut out for him. My favorite one was a witch costume when I was seven or eight. Mom donated an old dress. I cut the hem to a length that would work, into points–like a real witch would wear, right? I helped Dad dye the dress in the kitchen sink. We got black vegetable dye everywhere, to Mom’s dismay. Remember tagboard from various childhood school projects? We used black tagboard to make the hat, well, he made the hat. Somehow with tape and glue, it ended up curled into a point and even had a brim. I don’t remember whether or not there was a broom. But I had fun trick or treating early and later at the church hall bobbing for apples and playing games. My dad was the school principal, and none of my friends believed he actually made my costume.

Kate Flora: Halloween in Union, Maine, where we were a quarter mile from the nearest neighbor, meant being driven down to “the Common” where the houses were clustered. People had their Halloween traditions–someone always gave apples, another homemade popcorn balls, and one was famous for giving out full sized candy bars. It was spooky and exciting, and sometimes there was snow. I carried the excitement over when my boys were small, spending the month of October making costumes. Once it was a Care Bear, where the head alone had 36 pieces. Once I made a unicorn, and a neighbor asked my enchanted son if he was a clown.

Here are some pictures, from my childhood (I was a very unhappy clown, John was a bull), of me done up in Grandma Clark’s Victorian finery, of my sister Sara in the bull costume, and of my boys as a knight, a unicorn, and Robin Hood, and Sara and I making pumpkin men:

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Bruce Robert Coffin: When my brother and I were growing up in Scarborough, Maine Halloween was always a time for digging through old bags of clothing and rags for items to accessorize our costumes. One year we dressed up as hobos, complete with plastic hats, cigars, and a whole lot of padding to allow us to fill out adult-sized clothes. Back then we lived in a small neighborhood where we could safely walk in our quest to fill the bright orange plastic jack-o-lantern candy containers we carried. Unfortunately I’m traveling as I write this and unable to get my hands on any of the old pics. But I do have a recent photo to share. For all you Trekkies out there, here is a pic of my brother-in-law Josh and me in our attempt at paying tribute to the original 1960s show. The scary thing is that we only had to make small modifications to clothing we already owned to pull this off. Wishing you all a spooktacular Halloween! Oh, and I almost forgot, live long and prosper!

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Brendan Rielly:  I have always loved Halloween, trick or treating until my community passed a law forbidding me from trick or treating, leaving me no choice but to have kids so I could continue trick or treating. My wife, Erica, is a phenomenal costume maker, turning our son into a revolutionary war figure or Anakin Skywalker, and our daughters into a bucket of puppies, or a washing machine, or jellyfish or a bathtub. Here is one from years ago of Shannon as an artist and me as her gallery.

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Never too old to trick or treat!

Vaughn Hardacker: In 1968 I trick or treated as a door gunner in Vietnam!

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Marine Helicopter Door Gunner

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No, No, It’s Not Nanette, Nor NANOWRIMO, exactly

John Clark sharing what I plan to do instead of doing the full-on 50,000 word challenge next month. The first time I tried, I hit 56,000 words, so I know I can do it. Instead, I’m finally listening to the strongest voice in my head, that of Berek Metcalf. The Wizard of Simonton Pond was published as an ebook in late 2011. In all, there are 5 books in that series as well as four others written or mostly written. Simply put, Berek is pissed at me and I can’t really blame him. After all, I left him watching the girl he loves vanish in a crystal as he realizes something terrible has happened after he went from a self-conscious, easily bullied Maine teenager, to a guy who adapted to a world at war halfway across the universe. I’d be pretty upset under similar circumstances. Before elaborating on what’s coming, here’s a bit about where Berek found himself when he vanished from the family farm.

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Ballicore’s solar system lies halfway across the universe from Earth. Three other planets orbit the same main sequence star, Celox; Zerend, Calyx and Obregon. None are inhabited by intelligent life forms, although Obregon has a suitable atmosphere and gravity. It lies between Ballicore and Celox.

Ballicore has two moons. Kira is a deep red and has an orbit that only allows it to be seen at the beginning of each season; Verdance, Glimmertime, Harvestway and Icefall which correspond to our spring, summer, fall and winter. Ven, which is larger, resembles our moon in size and color. Ballicore is approximately two-thirds the size of our world and is about a billion years younger, with a year that runs about 300 days.

Ballicore’s climate resembles Earth’s in many ways, although there are pockets where it is dramatically different. This results from volcanic activity or the proximity of Mana-the mysterious force behind magic in the universe, to the surface. One such pocket occurs around the Inland Sea, a tropical region northwest of the Tarnished Mountains. The Way Temple, a training center for mages and seekers of the magical path lies on an island in the center of the sea.

Seasons on Ballicore are similar to ours, but Icefall can be extremely severe. During recent times, some have been so cold that harbors along the coast have frozen solid with ice shelves extending several miles into the open sea.

Much of Ballicore’s early history has been lost. There are two reasons for this. Ballicorian civilization fell into a dark age about 500 years ago when many of the able-bodied men were killed during a demoralizing rout at the Battle of Farrow’s Pass. At the same time, most of the Elven race, the most learned and astute record keepers on the planet, died out or fled to the unexplored regions west of the Crags of Dread. While no one knows for certain, it is believed that they hid or took with them most of the scrolls documenting the history of Ballicore. For more than you probably want to know about Ballicore, go here: https://downeastwizards.wordpress.com/

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My plan for November is to placate Berek and the rest of my characters by buckling down and editing as much as possible. I’ve always felt the second book, Hither we go, is the best of the lot. Maybe it’s time to prove it. I would hate to be halfway across the road and realize the logging truck approaching is going so fast and I’m toast without having exposed the world to what happened.

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In addition to Hither We Go (which introduces Deanilu Archambault, an incest survivor and Greg Faircloth, a gay teen who has perfected the art of being nearly invisible while at Simonton High), there’s Married With Familiars, Like A Thief In The Night, the Further Adventures of Kallista Wolfblood and In My Father’s Footsteps.

In the series, I play with some fairly out there concepts including the possibility that our universe isn’t what we think, as well as an extremely solitary and amoral individual with an oversexed ghost trapped in her head. Stay tuned in November to see whether I shine or flame out.

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Weekend Update: October 28-29, 2017

[image error]Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will be posts by John Clark (Monday), all of us for Halloween (Tuesday), Kate Flora (Wednesday), Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson (Thursday), and Bruce Coffin (Friday).

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

Lea Wait is celebrating the October 31 debut of her Christmas mystery, THREAD THE HALLS. Angie Curtis and her beau can’t linger under the mistletoe … his actress mother is arriving from her movie set, with her co-star, director and screenwriters, and she expects [image error]Maine to look like a Currier & Ives Christmas print. As the scene is being set, Angie finds a body partially covered with snow, in back of the star’s mansion. Someone won’t be home for the holidays …

To celebrate the launch of THREAD THE HALLS, Lea will be interviewed on “Book Talk,” a radio program in Valdosta, Georgia (FM 92.1) from 6 until 7 p.m. Eastern Time Tuesday night — Halloween! To listen on the internet, live, check http://www.Talk821.com, and call in with a live question — 1-229-259-9297. Lea would love to hear from you!

And Lea, Kate Flora, and Barbara Ross (and their books, of course) will be at the REM Craft Fair October 28 and 29 at Champions Fitness Club, 30 Elm Plaza in Waterville, Maine; Saturday from 10am until 5 pm and Sunday from 10 am until 4 pm. Lots of Maine crafters will be there — great place to do early Christmas shopping!

Maureen Milliken will be at the South Freeport Congregational Church quarterly Author Luncheon, a fundraiser for the church, Friday, Nov. 3. The event is 11:30 a.m. to 1 p.m., 98 South Freeport Road. Reservations can be made by calling the church office at 865-4012 and tickets are $15 each. Luncheon will be soup and salad (or sandwiches) with beverage and dessert. And Sherman’s will be selling Maureen’s books!

Kate Flora and her co-writer Joe Loughlin will be on Maine Calling Nov. 3rd at 1:00 to talk about SHOTS FIRED.

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

FRENCH SURPRISE

Susan Vaughan here. I recently returned from a trip to France. Before I go further, I should mention that I have degrees in French literature, and when I was twenty-one, I spent a summer studying in Paris and living with a French family. Immersion in the language and culture, you see. I returned for a brief visit three years after that.

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Still, that was decades ago, but long after Monsieur Eiffel built his tower. I hadn’t been to France since, so this journey was dear to my heart. When I discovered that our Paris hotel was only two blocks from the iconic tower and I could see it from the hotel entry, I shed a tear or two.

This trip offered me a reunion with old sights, but also some surprises. Let’s start with M. Eiffel’s marvelous construction. In preparation for the Exposition Universelle (World’s Fair) of 1889, to mark the 100-year anniversary of the French Revolution, the government called for designers and builders to submit plans for a monument to be built at one end of the Champ-de-Mars Park in central Paris.

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A guide told us that bridge-builder and architect Eiffel was working on another project, but agreed to let his assistant, a structural engineer, develop some preliminary sketches. Later, when he learned of the enormous financial reward involved, he devoted himself to taking these sketches further and submitting to the contest. We all know the result.

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My surprise was that since 1985 it’s lighted at night, and the lights flash every hour on the hour. Other interesting facts. The tower took a little over two years to build, an astounding feat given the technology of the day. It was designed to be torn down after twenty years, but Eiffel objected, and once a wireless transmitter was placed atop, the Iron Lady was saved from the wrecking ball. During Nazi occupation in 1944, Hitler ordered the German military governor of France to tear it down, but he refused. Rescued again.

I knew of Shakespeare & Co., an English-language bookshop on the Left Bank of the Seine and had visited it back when, but was pleased to see it’s still there and thriving. American George Whitman founded the store in 1951, in a seventeenth-century building that had once been a monastery. He originally called the store Le Mistral, the name of the strong winds that blow in the South of France. But in 1964, the four-hundredth anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth, he renamed it in honor of Sylvia Beach, who in 1919 had founded the original Shakespeare & Co. Like in her day, writers, artists, and intellectuals “hang out” at the bookshop, even sleeping there when they have nowhere else. In 2006, the aged George put his daughter Sylvie (named for Sylvia Beach) in charge, and she still operates this unusual bookshop.

[image error]Today, the shop sponsors literary festivals, a literary prize, and other events. It even made a cameo appearance in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. On October 31, Shakespeare & Co. will mark the French publication of young American author Callan Wink’s Dog Run Moon: Stories with a discussion and signing. Born in Michigan, Wink now works as a fishing guide in Yellowstone, and his short stories of rural America should appeal to the Maine spirit. If you hurry you can make it to 37 rue de la Bûcherie in time to get your signed copy.

A tour featuring the highlights of the Louvre Museum, the world’s largest art museum, brought alive the building itself as well as the collection within, mostly because of our guide, who had degrees in art history and explained with enthusiasm and humor. I’d disliked images of the glass pyramid entry designed by I. M. Pei in the 1980’s, as being too contemporary and jarring in the midst of the Louvre’s Renaissance splendor. The French originally objected too, as they had about the Eiffel Tower. We don’t like change, do we?

[image error]The pyramid is still jarring, but now I understand its necessity and appreciate its function. The previous main entrance in one of the wings could no longer handle the huge crowds and the security sadly needed these days. In addition to creating a well-lighted entry, the glass-and-pole structure creates a central, spacious lobby from where visitors can ascend into one of the three wings. The two smaller pyramids direct more light into the space.

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The Louvre Palace was built in the late twelfth century as a fortress on the Seine, and then extended many times under many rulers to form the present building, a museum since the French Revolution. Our guide informed us that during the construction of his pyramid entry, Pei suggested that the museum open the original fortress foundation to visitors.

During that summer decades ago, I wandered the Louvre many times, but here was my surprise—something old that was new—huge stone pillars and an actual moat far below the museum itself!

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Our tour continued through time from the Greek statues, including the Venus de Milo, to Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, and of course, to the gift shop, which is incredible.

Our time in Paris was too brief, only three days, before we headed south to Lyon and a cruise down the Rhône River. I could go on with more of my fascination of new and old Paris and of France, but I’ll leave you with my last surprise.

I hadn’t spoken or read French at any length in years, so before the trip, I took an online refresher course. Still, I felt nervous that I’d forgotten too much. But to my amazement, after a little time, facility with French came back, at least enough that not only was I surprised, I was thrilled. I’ve promised myself not to lose the language again. Then if someone asks, “Parlez-vous français?” I can say with confidence, “Oui!”

All the Happy People

by Barb, posting from the couch her living room in Portland, Maine, which is a cool thing all by itself

[image error]As some of you know, the home we own in Boothbay Harbor was bought and run by my mother-in-law, Olga Carito as the Seafarer Inn, a bed and breakfast. Olga passed away in January, and one of the tasks that fell to my husband and me was going through boxes and boxes (and boxes) of photos.

As a mathematician, Olga’s approach to organizing photos was perhaps best explained by chaos theory. None of the albums, or even pages within albums, have any coherence as to date, subject, or setting. Except for the albums given to her as gifts, or the ones completed by her guests.

Most of the photos were easily dispensed with. We created boxes for each of Bill’s siblings and for his aunt. We threw out many. Why in the 90s did we think double, triple or even quadruple prints were such a bargain?

The ones that gave me a pause were the hundreds and hundreds of photos of the Seafarer’s guests. Some of them we know. They are relatives or friends or even us, since we all used to come to the inn. But most of them we don’t recognize.

[image error]So many smiling people. Enjoying their vacations. Relaxed and happy.

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There are the family gatherings–the weddings, rehearsal dinners, family reunions, and gatherings for memorial services.

 

 

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There are the couples, new and established, old and young.

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[image error]There are the children–young adults now, getting special time with mom and dad, or grandma and grandpa.

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[image error]There are the visitors from near and far, getting to know, really know, the United States and its citizens around the breakfast table.

 

 

 

 

 

[image error]Some faces show up year after year, in the same season, spring, summer or fall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We kept some of the photos and gave some to Bill’s brothers and sisters. They document a part of Olga’s life we knew about, but largely weren’t a part of.

It’s the smiles that mean the most.

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Of Cats’ Eyes and Puppy Dog Tales

It’s quarter till six on Wednesday morning, but I’ve been up since about four-thirty, thanks to a certain cat who decided four-thirty was the perfect time to come into the bedroom and prrrrt and meow and romp and knead and generally make a nuisance of himself. This, of course, got the puppy stirred up, which meant that I was pretty much…well, up.

And now we are all up – with the exception of Ben, who continues to sleep soundly in the bedroom, while I write this and cat and puppy happily race around my office chair on the other end of the house. Which is, I suspect, what Magnus the Cat had in mind from the start. The good thing about all of this is that it reminded me, at four-thirty this morning, that my Maine Crime Writers post was due today, and I hadn’t written a thing.

Which is why I’m here now.

Let me back up a minute. First off, the cat.

Magnus is a Maine coon mix who showed up on my mom’s doorstep in July, about a week before Ben and I were scheduled to move into our new home. He was skinny and a little matted, but otherwise appeared to be well taken care of, so I called the humane society to see if anyone had reported a friendly, very fuzzy cat missing. They hadn’t. I checked in with neighbors, but no one knew a thing. I called local veterinary clinics, to see if they had any clients missing a Maine coon cat or Maine coon mix. Again, nothing.

Two weeks later, Magnus moved into the house in Phippsburg with us.

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Then, in September, I began fostering three puppies for the Coastal Humane Society. Surprising absolutely no one, Ben and I couldn’t say goodbye to all three pups when the time came. Little Miss Marji had been working on me pretty much from the moment I laid eyes on her, at CHS when she was just five weeks old. The very bark-y, rompy one in the video below is her:

On October 6, Ben and I said a tearful goodbye to her two sisters, Sage and Rosie – both of whom found homes within hours of becoming available for adoption at the shelter. And then, we adopted Marji.

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What Ben and I weren’t sure of was how Magnus and Marji would adjust to one another once Marji was a permanent part of the family. Before that time, Magnus seemed to consider the pups to be fluffy play things – at times mere nuisances, at others actual playmates. Here he is with Marji, back when all three pups were still here.

Things changed, however, when Marji was here for the duration. Magnus couldn’t just hop over the homemade barricade and escape when the puppy got to be too much; now, Marji had the run of the house as well. And the puppy no longer slept with her sisters in the rumpus room while Magnus, Ben, and I retired to the bedroom. Suddenly, Puppy Time was All the Time.

Of course, Marji couldn’t have been happier to have Magnus for a playmate. She worked the hard sell with him, snuggling up to him when he wanted nothing to do with her, and then playing for all she was worth when he deigned to play along. It took only a few days before Magnus was the one initiating the play sessions, the two chasing each other around the couch like the best of friends.

Fast forward to this morning, when Magnus decided four-thirty was the best time in the world to hang out. I don’t think he actually intended on waking the puppy at that point – I think he wanted breakfast and/or snuggles, and Marji waking was definitely not the goal. Once I made it clear, however, that I was not getting up at four-thirty to feed him, thank you very much, and I wasn’t particularly interested in having him draped across my head, purring and kneading my scalp until dawn, his objective changed. Then, it became all about the puppy.

Twice, I watched in the dim light of early morning as he crept into the room and then bumped up against the walls of Marji’s nighttime playpen, startling her awake. The first time, the pup just whimpered a little and I was able to get her back to sleep without a problem. The second time, she woke and started barking like a fiend, while I firmly believe Magnus laughed his fuzzy arse off at the doorway. Finally, at five-thirty, knowing I had an article to write and accepting that Magnus wasn’t about to let Marji or me get any more sleep, I got up.

Magnus happily followed me up to my office and Cat and Pup engaged in a wild, raucous play session for about ten minutes before Magnus got tired of the games and disappeared. Now, Marji is asleep on my lap. Magnus is nowhere to be found. And this month’s Maine Crime Writers post is complete. Which, to be honest, is actually all thanks to that highly talkative, personable, woolly Maine coon who wouldn’t let me sleep this morning.

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Next month, I’ll be releasing the second book in the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue series. At that point, I promise to write about something more murder-y than this – something I recognize that I promised last month, but sexual predators and rampant hurricanes, runaway wildfires and raging Twitter accounts have left me weary of real-world problems. I thought we could all use a few cat-and-puppy videos this month.

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