Kathy Lynn Emerson's Blog, page 35

Weekend Update: August 26-27, 2017

Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will be posts by Barb Ross (Monday), John Clark (Tuesday), Maureen Milliken (Wednesday), and Susan Vaughan (Thursday), and on Friday we’ll have a special group post on Good Maine Cooking.

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

On Saturday, August 26, Jen Blood, Lea Wait and Maureen Milliken will be chatting and selling (and signing!) their books at the Designing Women Fine Art and Craft Show at Longfellow’s Green house on Puddleduck Road in Manchester, Maine from 9:30 am until 4 pm. All the vendors at the show are women, and the show is a benefit for the Sexual Assault Crisis and Support Center in Winthrop.

Where you’ll find Kate on Sunday:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Pizza To Die For: The Tale of a Tale

Lea Wait here, with the tale of a tale.

It started when an agent suggested I write a contemporary mystery for children. My previous books for ages 8-12 were historical novels, not mysteries, (although many of my characters had secrets …) so writing a different sort of book was a challenge.

I ended up with Pizza To Die For. It’s set in New Jersey (a state I lived in for many years while dreaming of being in Maine,) and, yes, it includes a murder. And, taking a page from cozy mysteries, it also includes recipes.

My protagonist, Mikki Norden, wants to be a chef. She does all the cooking for her family and studies cookbooks. Her mother is an unpublished (so far) mystery writer, who studies books on poisons and plots.

Mikki’s parents have just separated, and she and her mom have moved from Seattle, Washington, to New Jersey, to live with a grandmother she has never met and (yuck) attend the same high school her mother graduated from. Mikki learns she’s half Italian, and finds a mentor in Anthony Baldacci (she calls him Mr. B) who owns a local Italian restaurant. And then, one morning, she and a new friend visit Mr. B … and find his body. And he smells of almonds.

As Mikki would tell you, having talked mysteries with her mother for years, the smell of almonds (without almonds in the vicinity) is a sure sign of arsenic poisoning. But the local police assume Mr. B died of a heart attack. What’s a girl to do when no one will listen to her? She’ll solve the crime herself — with the help of a couple of bumbling has-been hit men who, it turns out, used to work for her grandfather.

I had a lot of fun writing Pizza To Die For. It’s very different from any of my other books, for adults or children, because it’s funny, and populated by a lot of quirky characters. I even included some of Mikki’s recipes … grandchild tested.

But — here’s the writers’ dilemma — no publisher wanted it. Editors liked it, but said they were confused. They felt Mikki was too mature to classify Pizza To Die For as a book for 8-12 year olds. On the other hand, she was too young to fit into the Young Adult category. (Mikki changed ages several times in the writing, but ended up at fourteen, a freshman in high school.)

And, yes, she’s a mature — but sometimes naïve — fourteen. But I liked her, and thought my readers — both young and old — would like her, too.

So, for the first time, I decided to self-publish a mystery.

It’s shorter than my adult mysteries (200 instead of 300 pages.) It’s humorous. The characters, of course, all have secrets. The New Jersey suburbs are far from the coast of Maine, where many of my books are set, but my friends who live in NJ will recognize bits and pieces of real towns.

I’ve been pleased by early responses to Pizza To Die For, from both young and old(er) readers. Who doesn’t enjoy a light mystery sometimes?

As Mikki said, when she was in a quandary, “Maybe there was hope. In the meantime, there were desserts.”

And who doesn’t like desserts?

Pizza To Die For is available as an e-book for Kindle or Nook or from Kobo and as a trade paperback from Amazon

Jen’s First Children’s Book, and a Tribute to an Artist to Remember

After several months of unexpected roadblocks and delays, I’m very pleased to announce that my children’s book, Maya Picks a Puppy, is now available! It tells the story of a girl (named Maya, wouldn’t you know?) choosing her first puppy from the local animal shelter, only to find herself torn between the multitude of squirming, whirling pups around her, and a sweet older dog named Adie.

The book was illustrated by Thomas Block, a familiar name to we Maine folk both in and out of the literary scene. Tom was my art teacher in junior high and high school, and we reconnected in the past few years through the summer Books in Boothbay festival at the Boothbay Railway Village. I’ve had this story tucked in my back pocket for a few years now, never really sure what to do with it, but finally got up the nerve to talk to Tom about it last summer. It’s surprising to me now just how much courage it took to ask if he would be interested in illustrating the story.

Tom Block in his beloved green truck. Photo by Ally Jordan.

His answer was immediate, and unequivocal: “I’d love to! We’ll work out the details later – just let me look at some things, and we’ll figure out when to get started.”

It took a few months longer than I’d expected to get those details sorted, thanks to a few delays on my part. Tom was unfazed. “We’ll get started when you’re ready,” was always his reply when I sent an apology for not having things together yet.

Finally, in January of this year, we started work. I was amazed at how quickly the illustrations began flooding my inbox once I finally gave him the go-ahead. When his first etchings arrived, I was beside myself. I’ve wanted to write a children’s book since I was…well, since I was a child. To finally see things moving in that direction was beyond exciting for me.

Tom’s first, preliminary sketch for Maya Picks a Puppy. Maya, with her stuffed dog Rat-a-Tat.

All told, it took Tom less than a month to illustrate the entire book – including eighteen full-page illustrations and the cover – with the intention for us to publish in the spring, once I’d gotten the formatting completed and the first print run done.

In March, I got an email from Tom saying that they had found a mass in his lung. A bronchoscopy was scheduled, and he would let me know how things proceeded from there. We corresponded a few more times over the course of the next few months, as Tom went through treatment. I wish that I could say that I saw him, that we visited or went over proofs for the story, or I simply popped in to wish him well. This is one of those cases when the story-book version would be so much better. The truth is, we emailed a few times, I sent my best wishes, and I got sucked into my own little world – something that’s too easy to do when we take for granted that there will be always be a tomorrow for apologies, for catching up, for that quick face-to-face visit that seems such a struggle in our world of virtual contact.

On June 24, I learned that Tom had passed away unexpectedly, leaving a legion of shocked friends, former students, artists, musicians… It seemed everyone knew Tom Block. Everyone loved him. He was that kind of man – a generous, positive spirit with a ready smile and a quick wit.

Today, the first box of Maya Picks a Puppy arrived on my doorstep. I sat down in the sunshine with a cup of tea and looked through, page by page. I love the way Tom captured Adie and the other puppies; the thought he put into every brush stroke, every vignette, his careful consideration of who this character Maya was, and how best to capture her. Mostly, though, I love the fact that we were able to make this single project happen before it was too late. While I regret so deeply the fact that I didn’t make more of an effort to connect in his final months, I am grateful for the time that we did have, and for the story I can now hold in my hand.

Rest in peace, Mr. Block. You truly were one of a kind.

Jen Blood is the USA Today-bestselling author of the Erin Solomon Mysteries and the Flint K-9 Search and Rescue Mysteries. To learn more, visit www.jenblood.com. 

 

 

 

SUMMERTIME AND I HAVEN”T WRITTEN SQUAT!!!

I’m sitting here listening to Eddie Cochran sing his 1958 hit SUMMERTIME BLUES Paul’s video jukebox (http://www.1959bhsmustangs.com/VideoJukebox.htm#) on my PC and when I hear the lyric “You can’t have the car because you didn’t work a lick” I realize that I haven’t written a lick since May! (I still get the car though, one of the benies of making the payments.) I pledge to give myself a swift kick in the keester and then put that off (are you like me in summer–able to procrastinate about procrastinating. Yeah, I can put off putting things off.)

Vaughn

I have to be fair with myself we all know Maine summers are short (especially up here in THE COUNTY where we have nine months of winter and three months to get ready for it). and I live in a house built in 1900, which means there’s always something needing fixin’. This summer I’ve only had three things on my plate: (1) a farmer porch runs along two walls of my house and over the years the outside has settled, pulling it away from the house (it sure makes a good rain interesting . . . watching the water pour–not drip–through the wainscotting), (2) a section of roof over the bathroom (Inside, thank God–yes, believe it or not indoor plumbing has come to Aroostook County!) needs repailacement. Then there’s (3) replacing the shelter that collapsed last winter. Include the temptation to put the boat in the water and go fishing (which I been successful in doing) and taking those day-long ATV rides through the abundant forests (which based upon the amount of logging I’ve seen aren’t really abundant anymore. By the way mystery writers and fans did you catch the clue in this statement? Yeah, I haven’t succeeded putting off my ATV rides.)

Then there are the usual maintenance chores like cutting the grass (which in early summer is a twice-a-week job, not to mention that the house sits on .85 of an acre) which can take anywhere from 3 to 4 hours, depending on how fussy I get.

Maybe if I live here until I’m 99 it will no longer be Fred Anderson’s House

We mustn’t forget sitting on the porch performing my self-appointed job as neighborhood watch, watching the aforementioned grass grow, and watching the hummingbirds. It’s no wonder I don’t get much written done.

Did I mention that my publisher seems to like to release my books in the summer. In summer I attend Thursdays on Sweden in Caribou(I blogged about this last year) and appearances at the Caribou and Presque Isle libraries (average attendance two, the librarianand one other. However TOS has been a success. There are no major book sellers north of Bangor and only one smaller store that sells new books (everything else is a used book store–which I enjoy perusing, but it’s tough to sell new books when there could be copies of some of yours on the shelf for a dollar or two.)

This is why it’s so easy to write during winter! (Must have been October or November–I can still see the first floor and porch from the road!)

I’ve considered putting in a vegetable garden, but have no idea which of the above listed activities I’d be willing to give up. Then there’s the fact that I’ve never in my life gardened and haven’t a single clue how to do it. So, in closing, what do you use to keep from writing in the summer? Maybe in a couple of months I’ll do a blog on why it’s so darned hard for me to write in autumn!

 

Leave The Gun. Take The Pizza. New York City, Part II

In my last blog, I spoke in detail about pizza, how much I enjoy pizza, and it’s complicated relationship to crime. In this blog, I will discuss six NYC pizza places that I recently visited, as well as some crime statistics. Because, after all, this is a crime writing blog.

One month ago my son and I visited New York City on the premise that it would be a ‘college trip’ (wink wink). This ‘college trip’ allowed me to indulge my infinite passion for sampling the finest pizzas on the planet. Initially, I figured I’d get to visit, maximum, three pizzerias. But I’m an ambitious guy when it comes to this sort of stuff, a real go-getter, which meant that we would be eating pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After all, I’m trying to raise my boy the right way.

But first I must indulge you with some interesting crime stats (Come on! I have to somehow justify writing this blog). As I emerged out of the subway station and onto Fordham Road, the first thing I heard was the sound of police sirens blaring everywhere. They seemed ubiquitous, lights flashing as they careened down the wide boulevard we were walking along. It got me to thinking: how many police officers are in NYC. I was amazed to learn that NYC employs over 34,000 officers! Yowza! Portland, Maine, in comparison, employs 163 police officers. And if you’re visiting NYC, you’ll be happy to know that, overall, crime rates are down in that city. Yes, subway crimes have jumped, so be extra careful when riding to your next pizza destination.

Now onto the good stuff. Starting from my least favorite to my fave, I’ll rate the pizzerias I sampled, using police officers as stars.

6. John’s of Bleeker Street. I was seriously looking forward to this legendary joint. The exterior is cool and the interior has that grungy feel that gives it serious character and hipness. The wooden chairs are all scratched with the names of people who’ve eaten there, and the walls are painted with scenic vistas. But the pizza fell flat. The sauce had a tinniness that left an odd taste in my mouth. Althougn they used a coal fired oven to cook their pizzas, the crust lacked that distinct flavor and texture that comes from blazing hot charcoals. The cheese was bit globby and gummy for my tastes, and I thought it might come with a Honus Wagner baseball card. Overall, the sum of this pizza’s parts didn’t do it for this crime writer, as I left a few slices on the plate in order to save my appetite for bigger game.

If It Rhymes?

Dorothy Cannell: My mother’s birthday is coming up.  She was born on September 5th, 1910, and I have been combing through memories of what made her magical.  She loved poetry, could recite whole stretches of Tennyson and Longfellow.  Also in her repertoire were verses she skipped rope to as a child.  They belong to a time now fading from memory and I have been meaning to write them down for years.  So here are the first three that came to mind:

Little fly upon the wall,

Ain’t you got no clothes at all?

Ain’t you got a petticoat?

Ain’t you got a shimmy shirt?

Poor little fly, ain’t you cold?

There are several versions of this.

Harry went to Hampstead,

Harry lost his hat.

Harry’s mother said to Harry

Harry, where’s your hat?

Hanging on the hook in the hall.

Harry, if you don’t hang your hat

On the hat peg in the hall

I’ll hit you on the head

With a heavy, hard hammer

And make you howl horrible.

This can be recited cockney fashion with the ‘aitches’ off, or posh with them on.

And now for a Victorian chiller if ever there was one:

 

 

 

 

 

One day Mamma said Conrad dear,

“I must go out and leave you here

But mind now, Conrad, what I say,

Don’t suck your thumb while I’m away.

The great tall tailor always comes

To little boys who suck their thumbs.

And ‘ere they dream what he’s about.

He takes his great sharp scissors out,

And cuts their thumbs clean off an’ then,

You, know they never grow again”.

 

Mamma had scarcely turned her back,

The thumb was in, Alack! Alack!

The door flew open, in he ran,

The great long, red-legged scissor man.

Oh! Children see! The tailor’s come

And caught out little Suck-a-Thumb

Snip! Snip! Snip! The scissors go,

And Conrad cries out “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast

That both his thumbs are off at last.

 

Mamma comes home, there Conrad stands

And looks quite sad, and shows his hands.

“Ah!” said Mamma “I knew he’d come

To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb.”

 

My Husband Julian refers to these poems as ‘Goose Mother Rhymes’.

Dorothy

Weekend Update: August 19-20, 2017

Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will be posts by Dorothy Cannell (Monday), Joe Souza (Tuesday), Vaughan Hardacker (Wednesday), Jen Blood (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:

Barb: On Tuesday, August 22, at 7:00 pm, I’ll be at the Bacon Free Library in Natick, Massachusetts for a Sisters in Crime panel. Hallie Ephron, Hank Phillippi Ryan, Sheila Connolly, and I will construct a mystery, thriller or suspense novel on the fly from audience suggestions. It’s a lot of fun. Would love to see you there.

Lea: (And Jen Blood and Maureen Milliken) will be at the 11th Annual Designing Women  Craft Show (all women venders, to benefit the Sexual Assault Crisis and Support Center in Winthrop) Saturday, August 26, at Longfellow’s Greenhouses, Puddledock Road, in Manchester,Maine. Hours:  9:30 until 4, rain or shine.

Kate: On Sunday, August 27th, I’ll be at the Palermo, Maine Library at 2:00 p.m.

From time to time, we offer books and other prizes to our readers. The winner of the July prize, a copy of The Maine Mulch Murder, goes to C. T. Collier. We’ll be contacting you for an address.

The winner of a copy of Death Warmed Over is Elaine Roberson. Again, we’ll be contacting you, Elaine.

And in case you were busy yesterday seizing the rapidly dwindling days of August, there’s another book offer in the Friday post, Crime Writers in Shorts.

 

 

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

Save

Save

Crime Writers in Shorts

Ha! We know you were hoping for pictures of our knobby knees, but they are mostly hidden beneath our desks. This post is really about short story collections, either compilations of our own work or collections in which we have stories. Perhaps even some comments on collections we are reading. Do you read short stories? A lot of people tell us that they don’t, but short stories are a wonderful way for us to hone our craft, and you to get a snapshot of the kind of writing we do. They’re also great for carrying with you to read while waiting for the child at sports practice, or your doctor, dentist or during other perpetually delayed life events. NOTE, however, much as we love to be read, please don’t read at traffic lights.

Kate Flora: I am extremely excited to be included in a wild and crazy anthology that is a homage to the Obama era, called: The Obama Inheritance: Fifteen Stories of Conspiracy Noir http://amzn.to/2uQNiv3 

My story is called “Michelle in Hot Water.” You’ll have to read it to find out why. It is quite a departure from most of the other crime stories that I’ve written, and was tremendously fun to write. It’s also exciting to be in the company of writers like Gary Phillips and Walter Mosley.

I just learned that my story is the first one in the collection. Don’t know if this means I’m the band that opens for the main act, or if hooking the reader falls on my shoulders. I guess you’ll have to read it and decide for yourselves.

 

Kathy Lynn Emerson: I’ve had a pretty good year in short stories. Not only did I have stories in the Level Best’s Windward and Malice Domestic’s Mystery Most Historical anthologies, I also had a collection of my stories published by Wildside Press as Different Times, Different Crimes. You can find it at https://www.amazon.com/Different-Times-Crimes-Kathy-Emerson-ebook/dp/B071F9NLJF/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501280126&sr=1-1&keywords=Different+Times%2C+Different+Crimes This is my second collection of short stories. The first was Murders and Other Confusions, published by Crippen & Landru back in 2004. That one included only stories related to my Face Down series, set in sixteenth century England. This new one has stories from many eras, starting with medieval times in “The Reiving of Bonville Keep” (originally published in the Murder Most Medieval anthology) and going right up to the present with two previously unpublished stories (“Calendar Gal” and “Death in the Dealer Room”) featuring Valentine Veilleux, a character spun off from The Scottie Barked at Midnight. One advantage of putting together a collection of my own stories is that it can be a combination of previously published short stories and stories that were never able to find a home. In Different Crimes, Different Times, ten of the stories have been in print before, five of them in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and three are seeing print for the first time. The third of those is set in 1888 and features a minor character from my Diana Spaulding Mystery Quartet in “The Curse of the Vampire’s Ghost.” All this is quite miraculous to me, since it usually takes me as long to write a short story as it does to write an entire novel. The record is held by “The Boston Post Cane.” The first version was written in 1987. It didn’t make the cut for Level Best’s Red Dawn, but I tried again the next year and it was accepted for Windward. It is also in Different Times, Different Crimes. In this version, the protagonist, in 2015, is telling the story of events that took place in 1987.

Joseph Souza: Ha! Short stuff. Strawberry books decided to publish this crazy little book of shorts. As you can tell from the cover, the opening short story, which is actually a long short story, is about a crazy bunch of tornado chasers. But you’ll be surprised what they’re really searching for. If you like Kurt Vonnegut or George Saunders, you’ll most likely enjoy the story “Fujita’s Itch”. The second story is a crime tale called “The Stone Walls of Lebanon” and it received runner-up for The Al Blanchard Award at Crime Bake. It’s tells of two mobsters who travel from New York to New Hampshire in order to take apart and steal a historic old stone wall for a corrupt Wall Street executive. Seems this wall has quite a murderous past. The third story takes place during a terrorist attack. A young couple honeymooning in England have been quarantined during a chemical attack that turns the male population gay. Needless to say, the two struggle to consummate their marriage under the considerable weight of the attack, and because of that their true differences emerge.  Check it out if you’re looking for something funny and completely different. And don’t forget to order THE NEIGHBOR, my twisty domestic thriller that comes out April 24th, 2018. https://www.amazon.com/Neighbor-Joseph-Souza-ebook/dp/B074DGFKS8/ref=la_B0083J9IZ8_1_9_twi_kin_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1502730996&sr=1-9

 

Bruce Robert Coffin: I will admit that I haven’t had as much time as I would like to continue crafting short stories, although I keep squirreling away ideas for the future. My most recent published short was a devilish little tale titled Bygones. It appears in the Level Best Anthology Busted: Arresting Stories from the Beat. https://www.amazon.com/Busted-Arresting-Stories-Dames-Detection-ebook/dp/B071DMTFDL/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1502972993&sr=8-2&keywords=Busted+stories Busted is a great collection containing stories from many of my accomplished writing friends. Be sure to check it out!

 

Maureen Milliken: I don’t write short stories (too hard!) but I do read them. Actually, I’ve been heard to say that I don’t enjoy reading them because they’re too short. But, I actually do enjoy reading them.

“A Good Man is Hard to Find” is my all-time favorite short story. Would love to credit this photo, but can’t find the source.

As an English major at Holy Cross, I took a course, “American Short Story,” which spurred by love of Flannery O’Connor. She wrote my all-time favorite short story, “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” It’s a classic, not only for those who love crime (creepy serial killer The Misfit!), but for those who love literature.

If you haven’t read “A Good Man is Hard to Find” you’re missing out. Among other things, it has one of the best closing quotes in all of literature. Do yourself a huge favor and read it, or better yet, listen to Flannery O’Connor reading it, which can easily be found online.

I’m also a huge fan of Edgar Allan Poe, the patron writer of all of us mystery writers.

Which is not to say I don’t also read my colleagues’ short stories! I enjoy them, too and look forward to checking out all the new offerings in this post!

Barb: I haven’t written many short stories lately because I’ve been writing the Maine Clambake Mysteries, but this year “Jane Darrowfield, Professional Busybody,” was published in Noir at the Salad Bar, a new book from the new editors at Level Best Books. It introduces a new character and setting for me. More on that to come!

For my money, the best mystery short story is “The Woman in the Wardrobe,” by Robert Barnard from Death of a Salesperson and Other Untimely Events. My favorite literary short story is “The Horseman,” by Richard Russo, because it is perfect. It’s recently been re-released in Trajectory, a collection of four of Russo’s long shorts. Plus anything at all by Alice Munro.

John: I’m in two this summer. My story “With Great Relish” is in Noir at the Salad Bar, while I have a dandy one called “Relatively Annoying” in Day of the Dark-Stories of Eclipse edited by Kaye George.

And if you are the type of reader who likes goodies…leave us a comment and some lucky sort will win an arc of The Obama Inheritance. So keep those cards and letters coming, crime fans.

Save

Save

Maine’s monuments aren’t going anywhere

There’s been a lot of talk the past week — and for some time — about monuments, statues, their worth, what they mean.

I’m not going to get all political here, but man-made statues, memorials and monuments tend to have a certain meaning for those who put them up, may have other meanings for others, and are actually simply blocks of stone or cement that have to be looked at with a certain perspective. I’ve heard them referred to as history. They are only history in that they represent a certain philosophy or sentiment, good or bad.

History is the stuff that actually happened, not the stuff the winners (or in the case of some very prominent monuments, the losers) put up to mark their territory.

That said, around the time things were heating up in Charlottesville last week, my sister Liz and I were on our annual camping trip to Baxter State Park.

Baxter has no man-made monuments. What is has is better.

I’ll let Percival Baxter, the former governor who bought the original land for the park say it:

Man is born to die. His works are short-lived. Buildings crumble, monuments decay, and wealth vanishes, but Katahdin in all it’s glory forever shall remain the mountain of the people of Maine.

The same can be said for the entire 200,000-plus acres now. Baxter knew that the whims of people change, that people can destroy the beauty around them out of greed, ignorance or short-sightedness.

The park is famously rigid and limited about how many people can stay there and what  you can do when  you’re there (no RVs, no motorized boats, carry-in carry-out, etc).

On our way out after a few days camping, we took the time to drive the loop road at the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument. That was Saturday afternoon, around the same time Heather Heyer was breathing her last breaths.

While it’s really weird for a piece of beautiful land to become a political football, somehow this gift to the people of Maine, and the nation, has.

Roxanne Quimby, one of the cofounders of Burts Bees products, bought up the land piece by piece and (yes, I’m simplifying) donated it to the federal government. President Obama made it a national monument last year. Now it’s being “reviewed” by the current administration, with an eye toward possibly stripping it of that designation.

Our governor has called it a “gave injustice” for the people of Maine and a “mosquito area.”

He and opponents have given a lot of reasons for it not to be there — it will take away from Baxter (really?), the tourists who visit the coast won’t go there (so what? plenty of Maine for everyone), it’ll cause too much traffic, recreational uses now allowed won’t be (there are areas designated for hunting, snowmobiling, etc.)

The bottom line, it seems to me, is that he wants it preserved so that when the forests there that have been hacked away by the timber industry mature again, the timber industry can have at it.

 

It’s hard to believe that the people of Sherman, Patten, Staceyville and Millinocket, towns that have seen some really hard times, wouldn’t welcome the boost — the non-polluting, feel-good natural boost — this 87,500- acre wilderness area would give them.

It’s also hard to fathom why people who would be the first to jump on landowners’ rights feel the need to criticize a landowner for doing what she wants with land she owns.

There is still a lot of emphasis in Maine on trying to keep the life-support system on for fading industries (timber being one), instead of looking ahead to how Maine can gain economic footing in the 21st century while not destroying what makes Maine so great. Timber gave us a lot, but in some ways also has taken away. But it’s never going to once again be the industry that sustains communities in the deep impoverished rural pockets of the state.

I understand why Weyerhaeuser, the timber company that owns huge chunks of the state’s land, may not want hundreds of thousands of acres to be out of its grasp, but I find it hard to fathom why someone living on the edge of poverty wouldn’t want a positive economic injection into their community. One that preserves, doesn’t destroy.

But I wasn’t going to get political, was I?

It’s hard to find, because he ordered the signs that lead the way to it not be put up.

We found it anyway.

This monument, despite all we people can throw at it, whether it ends up no longer being “a monument,” will be here long after we’re gone. It doesn’t commemorate political views that many find abhorrent, or even ones we don’t. It doesn’t commemorate death and destruction, as so many do.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we are very, very lucky to live in Maine.

Now for the pictures:

It’s always a great feeling to drive through the entrance to Baxter. This is the north entrance, at Matagamon Gate.

The wild blueberries at Baxter, these ones are along the Middle Fowler Trail, are tart, sweet, delicious, and free for us and the bears.

Sister Liz atop Barrel Ridge after a nice hike.

One of the views from atop Barrel Ridge, off the Middle Fowler Trail, at Baxter State Park.

We stumbled upon the Patten Pioneer Days Bean Hole Dinner at the Lumberman’s Museum after we left Baxter.

There are no signs leading you to Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument, but this is the intersection where you turn onto Swift Brook Road from Route 11. Just look for the house with the American flag and the large “National Park No” signs.

Our new national monument.

The loop road at Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument is rustic and wild. But that’s not a problem.

Liz checks out the view of Katahdin and other stuff from an overlook on the Katahdin Woods and Waters loop road.

Another Katahdin Woods and Waters view. Hard to understand how this is a “travesty” for the people of Maine. Also, I don’t think we saw one mosquito.

Private road leads into the national monument, and there’s still some resistance to it, particularly from lumber companies.

East Branch of the Penobscot on the entrance road to Katahdin Woods and Waters.

 

Maureen Milliken is the author of the Bernie O’Dea mystery series. Follow her on Twitter at@mmilliken47 and like her Facebook page at Maureen Milliken mysteries. Sign up for email updates at maureenmilliken.com. She hosts the podcast Notes from a Cranky Editor all by herself, as well Crime&Stuff with her sister Rebecca Milliken.

 

Introducing Death Warmed Over – A Thea Kozak mystery

Kate Flora: I originally wrote this book more than four years ago, and it has wandered through the world of publishing ever since. After several years of waiting for a publisher to get around to it, I decided to publish it myself. For writers of a series, as well as readers, get attached to characters. I wanted to bring Thea back, and readers told me they wanted to read more, too.

For those who are unfamiliar with Thea, here’s what Janet Evanovich says about An Educated Death:

Thea Kozak is a terrific, in-your-face, stand-up gal in the moving and compelling story of a grown-ups who fail the students in their care. Stephanie Plum and Thea Kozak would have a lot to say to each other.

And a quick description from the Camden Herald: 

“Maybe it’s because Flora’s books are so thoroughly grounded in reality and accurate in detail that Thea Kozak never really slips the surly bonds of real life –though she sure pushed the envelope. Her exploits smack of the superhuman, but her emotions, thoughts, feelings, reactions and responses are instantly recognizable to the rest of us ordinary beings.” – Carolyn Marsh, editor of the Camden (Maine) Herald

And here, because I am so flattered by their comments, I share some of quotes from writers I admire:

“If you like your heroines smart, brave, tough, and exuberantly aware of the possibilities of the human heart, look no further than Thea Kozak.” S.J. Rozan

 “Kate Flora does what all the great writers do: she takes you inside unfamiliar territory and makes you feel right at home; you climb in and are along for the whole ride.” Michael Connelly

“I’ll follow Thea Kozak anywhere. She is simply one of the most refreshing and original heroines in mystery fiction today. And Kate Flora is the rare, graceful writer who pays close attention to how long it takes the body and the heart to heal.” Laura Lippman

And now, without further ado, an excerpt from Chapter One of Death Warmed Over:

I retraced my steps through the dining room and the entry hall and shoved back the heavy pocket doors. The huge, bright, front-to-back living room was painted a soothing, soft gray-green. Light streamed in through a wall of windows at the end. In the center sat a single chair. The chair was surrounded by a circle of space heaters, each of them glowing fiery red, connected to outlets by long orange tails of extension cords. Our realtor, Ginger Stevens, was tied to the chair, a thick strip of shiny silver duct tape wrapped around her head and her mouth. Her skin was blackening red and blistered. Her clothes were charred and smoking.

As fresh air whooshed through the door with me, her clothes burst into little tongues of flame and her long russet-brown braid caught fire. Above the smoke and flames, her eyes, wide with pain and terror, fixed on me. She mumbled behind the tape as I stood and stared, frozen in place, trying to process what I was seeing. The horror. The incongruity. The utterly incomprehensible nature of what was happening. Ginger was being cooked. I stood in the doorway, paralyzed.

Then I dove into action. I sprinted toward the circle. Heat and hot metal seared my ankles as I kicked the nearest heaters out of the way. I grabbed the back of the chair, the paint blistering hot under my fingers. As tongues of flame licked at me, I dragged her into a cooler part of the room. I tore off my jacket, balled it up to protect my hands, and used it to smother the flames from her still-burning clothing and her hair. Then I tore at the tape that covered her mouth and nearly covered her nose, gagging from the smell of burned flesh and singed hair and the horror of realizing that I hadn’t smelled barbecue at all. I’d smelled this woman, Ginger Stevens, my kind, sweet, sometimes too chatty realtor, being burned alive.

As I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1, Ginger tried to speak.

“Hush,” I said. “Hold on. Hold on. I’m calling for help. I’m going to get someone here to help you. We’re going to get you to a hospital, Ginger. It’s going to be okay.”

I wished I believed what I was saying.

Her mouth moved. Dry split lips. Her swollen tongue trying to form words. I bent down so my mouth was close. There was a faint mumble I could barely make out, a few sounds that seemed like words.

“Don’t try to talk,” I said, because the effort was so clearly painful. But her effort was extreme. There was something she had to tell me.

“…airy,” she gasped. “Bobby.” Her blackened hands clawed at the air. “So long. Safe.” A grasp for the strength to go on, and then, “Sorry.”

As the operator answered and went through her spiel, this call is being recorded, blah, blah, I tried to give her the details. My name. The address of this house. The awful scene, a woman being burned alive. Our need for an ambulance and EMTS. Our need for cops, for a crime scene team because this was no accident.

Now that the tape was off her mouth and she’d delivered her incomprehensible message, Ginger’s muffled sounds had become a ceaseless high-pitched scream, a primitive, animal cry of agony. Most people know what a burn feels like. Multiply that times a thousand and you wouldn’t even come close. Her eyes had a dulled glaze that made me fear she was dying. That she’d die here before help could arrive.

Amazon – http://amzn.to/2uSWBtG

Barnes & Noble – http://www.anrdoezrs.net/links/7960781/type/dlg/https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/death-warmed-over-kate-flora/1126873214?ean=9781614179368

iBookstore – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/death-warmed-over-the-thea-kozak-mystery-series-book-8/id1265160638?mt=11&at=11l9ki

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/death-warmed-over-the-thea-kozak-mystery-series-book-8   (this link is not yet active)

Google – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kate_Flora_Death_Warmed_Over_The_Thea_Kozak_Myster?id=mJkuDwAAQBAJ&PAffiliateID=1100lLxZ

I am now hard at work, and 200 pages into the next Thea Kozak mystery. So if you like Thea, you won’t have to wait so long next time.

Leave a comment and you might win a print copy of the book.