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What did you do on your summer vacation?

by Marcia Talley

July in Annapolis, Maryland and I’m doing what I normally do every summer, running Camp Grandma.  All six of the grands will stay over at some time or another before I head off to the UK for the St Hilda’s Crime and Mystery weekend in August, but right now, I have Thomas and Joseph, ages 10 and 7 respectively, who are with us for three weeks attending sailing camp.  When they’re not learning how to tack, jibe or perform a dry capsize, they’re going to Dunkin Donuts, Grumps or Five Guys, seeing a movie at the mall, eating junk food, playing computer games and staying up late, reading. 

That’s their summer vacation … or maybe their parents’?

When I was growing up as the eldest of five daughters of a career Marine, we usually took our vacations when we crossed the country, moving from one duty station to another.  When I was eleven, Mom and Dad bought a second-hand trailer in Fredericksburg, Virginia. 

They fixed it up inside, painted it dark green and hitched it to the back of our Chrysler Imperial , a vehicle with tailfins so large they reached our destination several days after we did.  My sisters and I always voted for staying in roadside motels --

Vacancy!  Swimming pool!  Free TV! --

but Dad would always insist on setting up camp in one of our nation’s national parks.

I appreciate that now.

Memories come in flashes.  Mom, washing clothes by hand in a tub in the Tetons.  The fawn that wandered into our campsite at Rocky Mountain National Park; we handfed it dill pickles.  Hiking to the top of Moro Rock in Sequoia where our baby sister famously said, “Ooooh, far down!” Screaming down the natural water slide at Yosemite until our butts were sore.  Then there was the couple in the AirStream trailer at Yellowstone who called sister Susan and me “hillbillies.”  Daddy, a decorated war veteran, had a word with the park ranger, and the AirStream – lawn chairs, white picket fences, potted geraniums, and all -- was gone the following day.  Even today, whenever we pass an AirStream on the road, my sisters and I make a rude noise.

Barry and I took a trip out west several years ago, and what a treat it was to revisit Yellowstone and the Tetons.  I hadn’t been there since I was fourteen.  Having reached the advanced age of {mumble mumble} my husband and I now carry lifetime membership cards that get us into any national park in the United States for free.  We put it to good use during a recent visit to Hawaii.

 

We won’t be visiting any national parks this summer, but look forward to sailing with friends on the Chesapeake Bay.  Certainly not a vacation as weird and wonderful as any of these, however.

http://www.weather.com/family-kids/family-time/unusual-summer-vacation-20130523

So, Femmes, any vacation plans for you this summer?

Shh! No spoilers, please!

by Donna Andrews. 

One of the challenges of writing a long-running series is that if you're any good at this character-building thing, you will create characters people want to see again. Fine by me, as a general rule.  Many of the ongoing characters in my Meg Langslow series showed up in one book, to meet the needs of that book's plot and theme, and then ended up staying on as continuing characters.  Meg's cousin Horace.  Her cousin Rose Noire. Caroline Willner, the owner of the wildlife sanctuary. Randall Shiffley. Dr. Clarence Rutledge, the holistic biker veterinarian.

It gets a little more problematic when the character is a suspect. A prime example is the elderly man who shows up near the beginning of The Penguin Who Knew Too Much and does some very suspicious things in the course of that book. Here's how he's first introduced:

I swung open the door and saw a tall, slightly stooped elderly man standing on the doorstep with his back to me. He looked as if he had dressed for a safari--olive green cargo pants, muddy hiking boots, a brown shirt, and a khaki fishing vest, its dozen pockets bulging with unidentified bits of gear. He had a pith helmet tucked under his left hand, and had probably just taken it off--his untidy white mane had a bad case of hat hair. He kept looking down at something he was shuffling in his hands, and then glancing up at the landscape. An odd figure, but he didn't seem to be carrying or leading any stray animals, so my welcoming expression grew a bit more sincere. I cleared my throat, in case he hadn't noticed the door opening.

And then he turned around and my jaw dropped. I'd seen that craggy, deeply tanned face before. Of course, so had anyone who habitually watched National Geographic specials over the last four decades, to say nothing of the Discovery Channel and Animal Planet. What possible reason could a world famous zoologist and conservationist have for showing up on our doorstep?

"Montgomery Blake," he said, sticking out a gnarled, weather-beaten hand. "You must be Meg Langslow."

So it really was him, or a damned good impersonator. Still tongue-tied with surprise, I shook the offered hand, and my star-struck awe gave way to irritation as I realized that Blake was one of those men who saw shaking hands as a contact sport. I reacted the way I usually do. Blacksmithing has made my hands a good deal stronger than most women's so I returned his death grip, with interest. I noted with some satisfaction the wince he couldn't entirely hide, and then immediately felt guilty. Blake must be at least ninety. I should be marveling that he still had so much strength, not getting sucked into some macho competition.

"You have a firm grip for a woman," he said.

Considering what I'd tried to do to his hand, that was a little like saying that King Kong was tall for a chimp. And what was I supposed to answer. "Thanks--you're pretty strong yourself for a senior citizen?"

I settled for "Thanks."

People who read my series in order can enjoy the gradual progression of Dr. Montgomery Blake from suspicious stranger to Meg's beloved curmudgeonly long-lost grandfather.  Anyone reading the series out of order . . .Well, I suppose anyone who reads a series out of order must be willing to endure a few spoilers.

But I find myself hoping that readers will give all our books at least a few months before publicly sharing any spoilers. Like posting on my Facebook page "I can't believe you made Rincewind the killer! You fooled me completely!" (My readers have been nice enough not to do that--thank you, readers!--but I've seen it done.) Or doing to others what someone did to me when, without any "Spoiler Alert!" warning, in the first sentence of a post on the DorothyL mystery list, he gave away the Big Secret Twist in the plot of The Sixth Sense--which I hadn't seen. Okay, I know it had been out for months, but I sometimes wait till stuff is on cable.  I'm not the only one.  Most people respect this. Not this jerk. Sigh. The same thing happens with books--just because it came out last year doesn't mean I've read it yet.

In The Good, the Bad, and the Emus, Meg goes in search of her grandmother--Dr. Blake's college sweetheart, Cordelia.  Right after receiving his Ph.D. he went off to the Galapagos on a fellowship.  His letters to Cordelia were never answered.  He never received any letters from her.  When he got back to the states, he searched for her briefly and then went on with his life.

Only to discover, seventy years later, that he was a father.  And for that matter, a grandfather and a great-grandfather. And after he gets over the initial shock, he decides he wants to find Cordelia.  Or find out what happened to her.  He hires Caerphilly's only private investigator, Stanley Denton, who discovers that Cordelia died less than a year ago when her garden shed burned down. Local gossip is that the fire was arson, but the police don't seem to have done anything.

You can guess what Meg's going to do, right?

Not just because she wants to find out the truth about her grandmother's death.  She also wants to learn about Cordelia's life.  Cordelia's cousin Annabel can tell her anything she wants to know--they grew up together and moved in together after the death of Cordelia's husband. Annabel has photos, journals, letters, home movies, and she's willing to share. On one condition. Meg needs to solve Cordelia's murder.

And what Meg learns in the course of solving it includes more than one family secret.  Here's hoping we can keep it secret for a little while.

How do you feel about spoilers? Do they ruin a book for you, or just dim your enjoyment a little? Or are you one of the folks--I know they exist!--who loves spoilers and likes to read the last page first to make sure everything comes out okay?

 

The Good, the Bad, and the Emus

by Donna Andrews

Tomorrow's my pub date.  Tuesday, July 8, 2014.  I know some of you have already gotten your hands on a copy of The Good, the Bad, and the Emus--enjoy!  For those of you who haven't--now's the time!

I'm doing two signings this week.  If you want a signed--or signed and personalized copy--I'm sure both stores would be delighted to help you:

Thursday, July 10, 6:30 p.m. Chester County Book & Music Co. in West Chester, PA.

Saturday, July 12, noon-3, Mystery Loves Company in Oxford, MD.

I'll also be running some contests, here and on Facebook, so stay tuned.

But for right now, I want to share a little bit about how the book came to be.

The emu part was easy.  A writer friend, Ashley McConnell, told me that there were feral emus living in the mountains of Virginia. I did some research and found that there are quite a few places in the country where emus have either escaped from commercial emus farms or been turned loose when the farms went belly up. I haven't been able to find much information about how well the emus are surviving, but--and here I will quote Meg Langslow's grandfather, Dr. Montgomery Blake, the eminent biologist, environmentalist, and animal welfare activist:

“Well, we have no idea how well they’re surviving,” Grandfather said. “It’s possible that they’re hanging on, but not thriving, in which case we need to rescue them and rehome them in a place that can give them proper care.”

“And if they’re doing just fine on their own?” Stanley asked.

“Then they’re probably having a detrimental effect on the native ecosystem, in which case we need to capture them and confine them in a place that can care for them without damaging the environment.”

I liked the idea of an emu roundup. But how could I add a murder to the roundup.  And not just any murder, but a murder that Meg would feel compelled to solve--which means a murder that somehow affects one of her friends or family members. Because for me, that's the only sane reason for an amateur sleuth to risk life and limb doing something that the police should be doing.

And then I remembered one of the biggest loose ends I've left dangling in my series--deliberately, mind you. Meg's grandmother.  It's part of the family history that Meg's father was found, as an infant, in the fiction section of a Charlottesville library.  In The Penguin Who Knew Too Much, Meg learns that Dr. Blake is her grandfather, and her grandmother was his college sweetheart, Cordelia.

What happened to Cordelia? 

What if Meg's grandfather finally became curious enough to try to find Cordelia, and hired Stanley Denton, the local PI, to do so.  And what if Stanley found out that Cordelia had been living less than an hour away until six months ago when she was killed.  Possibly murdered.

Now that's a murder Meg couldn't resist trying to solve.

And that's how The Good, the Bad, and the Emus came about.

It’s a Dry Heat

By Elaine Viets

"Where are you from?" asked the driver for the Las Vegas airport shuttle, as he loaded my bags into the back.

"Fort Lauderdale, Florida," I said.

"How do you stand the humidity?" he asked.

It was 102 degrees in Las Vegas last Sunday, and the driver was fighting his own humidity. A waterfall of sweat ran down into his eyes. The shuttle ticket taker stuck his head in on the passenger side to cool off, and he looked like a drowned dog. My shirt was soaked with sweat.

The next day it was supposed to be 110 degrees in Vegas. By Wednesday the heat index would be off the charts – 132 degrees. Yikes. 

But Las Vegasans (Las Vegans?) all said the same thing, "It’s a dry heat."

They believe this with the same touching faith that we believe the sky is blue and the earth is round. In Nevada, they chant it like a mantra, as they load up visitors with bottles of water and search for places to park their cars in the shade. Arizona folks are the same way. Maybe it’s the sun.

Yes, Florida is humid. But I like the humidity. I like air I can swim in. Florida’s humidity feels like I’m wrapped in a warm, scented towel – kinda like the ones I get at the sushi restaurant. Florida humidity is comforting. Sure, I have a permanent bad hair day, but I live in paradise.

That’s the Florida delusion. We believe our weather is perfect. Never mind that hurricanes menace us from June through November. We forget that our summer heat makes south Florida feel like hell’s waiting room. We overlook the January cold snaps that leave us shivering in our sandals.

This is paradise.

The truth is we usually get one perfect month a year. But the myth of the perfect weather brings in tourist dollars and raises property values. We Floridians have to believe it if we’re going to live year-round in a bug-infested swamp.

  My friend Debbie Carroll showed me the Las Vegas the locals know.

Less than twenty miles away from the Strip is Red Rock Park, which looks like a John Ford movie in Technicolor.

The desert beauty is more subtle than Florida’s gaudy subtropical color, I told her. 

"We locals don't even go to the Strip unless we want to see a show or go with an out-of-town guest," Debbie said. "We also don’t swim in our pools year round. It gets into the 30's during the winter at night and yes, it goes over 100 during the summer."

I braced myself. I knew what was coming next.

"But it’s a dry heat," she said.

So’s my oven, but I don’t live there.

Visiting New Worlds

by Toni L.P. Kelner / Leigh Perry

Like many of us, I'll be traveling this summer. In fact, I may log more time on the road than here at home between now and Labor Day. Two trips are for writing business, one is for family business, and one is pure fun.

First up is Readercon, an annual science fiction convention in the Boston area that maintains a laser focus on the literature of the field, as opposed to media and other associated fandoms.

I've been to plenty of science fiction cons, but this one is a different world for me because it is without a doubt the most erudite convention I've ever attended. I often feel daunted by the  credentials of my co-panelists. Just look at the description of my panel this year:

Emotion, Archives, Interactive Fiction, and Linked Data.
Leah Bobet (leader), Toni L.P. "Leigh Perry" Kelner, Sarah Smith, Walt Williams.
In a 2013 blog post, archivist Mx A. Matienzo drew a line between the "linked data" of interactive fiction (IF) and the connections within an archive of materials and works. Matienzo suggested creating a hybrid of the two that would bolster the emotional impact of fiction with links to relevant factual information—or, from the other side, that would bolster the intellectual weight of nonfiction with more nebulous but equally important information about feelings, thoughts, and experiences. How else can archivists, authors, and others collaborate on hybrid storytelling that brings these disparate components together?

See what I mean? Those other panelists have awards, advanced degrees, and publication lists I can only goggle at. Now I expressed willingness to participate thinking that I could talk about the factual materail that I often see in mysteries: forensics, recipes, craft tips, information bell ringing, and so on. Will this add to the panel? If not, I can look interested and nod a lot. At least I understand what to do at my other scheduled events, an autographing and a reading. I mean, I do know how to write my name, and I've got a book to read from: my forthcoming The Skeleton Takes a Bow.

Readercon will still be going on when I take off on my next trip, to Charlotte, NC.

This one is for the family, as we do some fixup on my father's house to enable him to live there with my sister and her husband. This will be a trip to the world of the past. I grew up in Charlotte, in that house, and with the help of my two sisters, my father, various nieces, and a crew of professional de-clutterers, we'll be excavating forty years of memories. It's either going to be wonderful or horrible, or most likely a combination of the two.

In mid-August, it'll be time for the world of gaming. I'll be participating in the Writer's Symposium that is held as part of Gen Con, the premier tabletop gaming convention in the world. Last year's Gen Con had 49,000 people, and this year's is shaping up to be larger still.

I did play Dungeons & Dragons for many years, but that was a long time ago. In fact, my first national publications where in Dragon Magazine, the magazine for D&D players. But these days, most of my gaming now is electronic, so this will be another new world to visit and explore. And with that many people, I'll be happy if I don't get completely lost.

Finally, my last visit for the summer will be to a world I know fairly well and always enjoy: DisneyWorld. I'm finding it hard to remember how many times I've gone to Disney, and I hope to go many more. It's crowded, it's expensive, and it's going to be hot, but to me at least, it's alos magic. And technically we will be going to one new world while we're there. We've never made it to the Animal Kingdom park, and this year it's at the top of our list. (Sid is looking forward to it, too.)

By the time I've visited all those other worlds, I imagine I'll be more than ready to settle back down to the real world. Or at least to the fictional worlds I create when I write.

Getting Good Ink

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: So, handwriting. I am always afraid to send notes to people They email me back and write things like," Uh, Hank? I got your note. Thank you, but what did it say?"

My handwriting is astonishingly bad. Truly. Sometimes I can't even read my own book notes. And it's always the crucial word that's incomprehensible. Like: Idea! Make sure Jane and Jake shlowign.  Huh? And I bet it was such a good idea..

Anyway. So when I invited Sheila Lowe today, I knew enough to email her. She's a forensic handwritng examiner (and mystery author)--and I knew enough NOT to let her see my wriitng. 

And then, whew.She decided to tell us about tattoos.  

For Sheila, whoselife is about ink, tattoos opened a whole new world. And a whole new meaning for Ink.

INK

  by Sheila Lowe 

In my life, “ink” is a word with a variety of meanings. As a handwriting analyst I study the trail of ink on paper, often to determine whether a signature is genuine or forged. In other cases I follow the trail to develop a personality profile based on the lines and curves the writer leaves as s/he moves across the page.

In my other life, as a mystery writer, ink represents the ideas I scribble on their way to a story. And in Inkslingers Ball, the fifth entry in my forensic handwriting mysteries, I’ve added another dimension—skin ink.

After Poison Pen, Written in Blood, Dead Write, and Last Writes, I was running out of non-cozy “write” puns for titles. Then, while ordering supplies online for my tattoo artist son, I came across an ad for a long-past convention called the Inkslingers Ball. If I’d been a cartoon character, a lightbulb would have flashed above my head, as in that instant I knew I had the title for my next book. I just had to build a story around it.

Body art is a lot more acceptable these days than it was in the days when only nefarious individuals and sailors wore an anchor emblazoned with “Mother” on their biceps.

Erik, the aforementioned son, has many female clients, some of whom choose to mark the occasion of their fiftieth birthday with their first tat, usually a dainty flower on an ankle or a dolphin on a shoulder. Most, though, are in their late teens or twenties and want something more elaborate, something that makes a statement.

One of my continuing characters, Annabelle Giordano, a troubled young teen who suffers from PTSD, provided the perfect segue into a story about tattoos.

 

 

When I told Erik what I was thinking, and asked what kind of tat might attract a girl like Annabelle, he immediately replied, “a sugar skull,” and drew one of the glam variety, which I used in the book.

He also offered to give me a tattoo of my very own, which I politely (or not) declined. I don’t even have pierced ears. His next offer was more acceptable—he would take me to the next tattoo expo being held at the Pomona Fairgrounds. And he did.

The sight of mostly naked people lying prone on tables out in the open, getting inked; the thunderous sounds of Aztec drumming; sweaty Pomona in midsummer—my first tattoo convention made it into the book.

Inkslingers Ball is an experiment. It’s the first book in the series not told strictly from the point of view of handwriting analyst Claudia Rose. This time, much of the story is seen through the eyes of her LAPD detective lover, Joel Jovanic, and also Annabelle. It will be interesting to see how my readers react to the change. So far, I’m getting good ink.

 

HANK: Hmm. Would you ever get a tattoo? Do you have one? We'll never tell..unless you want us to!

 

Inkslingers Ball

 

A teenage girl, brutally murdered and left in a trash dumpster; a young man, killed in a firebombing attack; a soccer mom, shot in the living room of her home; vicious thugs whose job is to protect a suspected criminal. Just another week on rotation for LAPD detective Joel Jovanic...until he uncovers a connection between the disturbing series of vicious crimes and Annabelle Giordano, who is in the temporary custody of his soulmate, Claudia Rose. 

 

 

 

Sheila Lowe

Like her fictional character Claudia Rose in the award-winning Forensic Handwriting Mysteries series, Sheila is a real-life forensic handwriting expert who testifies in handwriting-related cases. She holds a Master of Science in psychology and is licensed to provide continuing education for marriage and family therapists. Author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Handwriting Analysis and Handwriting of the Famous & Infamous, as well as the Handwriting Analyzer software, she lectures around the country and is often seen in the media.

 

www.sheilalowe.com

www.superceu.com

www.claudiaroseseries.com INKSLINGERS BALL – on sale now

 

No, I won't tell you what I think

by Donna Andrews

Yesterday I got an email from something called Millward Brown, which describes itself as a global research firm.  It said, in part:

“As a valued Eddie Bauer customer, your feedback is very important to us. You are one of a select group of customers that we are inviting to share feedback about shopping for apparel. Your opinions and suggestions are essential to helping us understand and improve your experience with Eddie Bauer, and more specifically, our future offerings.  The survey should take about 25 minutes to complete. We realize your time is valuable, so you will receive a 20% off coupon for Eddie Bauer for completing this survey. To use your opinions, we must receive your completed survey by Monday, July 7th.  During the survey you may be selected at random to participate in an online chat with a live moderator. If you decide to participate, you will also receive a $25 gift card code to Eddie Bauer as thanks for completing this additional interview.”

I’ll give them credit—they’re admirably specific about how long their survey will take and why they’re doing it.  But I’m still going to pass.

What? You’re giving up a 20% off coupon and a chance at a 25% gift card?

Well, yeah.  Not worth half an hour out of my life.  And not just because to use the coupon I’d have to spend four times what they’re offering to “give” me.

I’m fed up with surveys, polls, and questionnaires. Lately it seems that every company I do business with wants me to fill out one.  At Home Depot, Rite Aid, and Pizza Hut, the cashiers circle the survey information and beg me to rate them. Every time I stay at a hotel I get a survey afterward. Every time I call some company’s customer service.  Every time I buy a large item like a computer or an appliance. In fact, every time my email or phone number falls into the hands of a commercial enterprise of any kind.

Isn’t it nice that they want to hear what I think about them?

Doesn’t feel to me as if they want to hear what I think.  More like they’re checking off items on a form, so they can say that they actively seek out their customer’s opinions. And worse, so they can use my feedback to conduct a little cheap market research.

When a survey that’s supposedly asking about my experience with a product or service spends the first twenty questions asking about things like my age, gender, education level, income level, and so on, I don’t really buy that you care about my opinion.  What does my income level have to do with whether your employees were courteous and your restrooms clean?

When a survey requires that I answer every single one of over a hundred questions and won’t let me submit if I skip one, then you don’t care about my opinion.  You care about shoving me into a square hole, even if I’m a round peg.

And don’t nag me with emails reminding me that I haven’t filled out your survey.  If I get your reminder, I probably got the original email, and if I’d wanted to answer, I would have.

It’s not quite a survey, but at least one local restaurant trains its employees to ask not “is everything okay?” but “is everything fabulous?” If the idea is to convince me that everything’s fabulous, it’s not working.  Asked if everything is okay, I will say, “Yes, fine.” Asked if everything is fabulous, I start thinking of all the ways they don’t quite meet my definition of fabulous. And I think the same happens with surveys.  The more detailed questions you ask about how things went, the more I'm apt to start second-guessing even the most positive experience.  ("Well, they really were a little slow, come to think of it.")

I realize that businesses need feedback to know where they’re doing well and where they need to improve.  And I’m sure they like the ease with which they can seek feedback—surveys are easy to put together these days, and you can conduct them for the cost of a few emails, right?

The problem is that so many businesses are demanding feedback so frequently and in such relentless detail that I’ve gone deaf to the whole thing.  I don’t want to waste thinking time figuring out whether I give some hotel’s reception desk an eight out of ten and its waitstaff a seven or vice versa. I’m tired of clicking N/A twenty-seven times because the store’s survey won’t let me skip any question, no matter how irrelevant to my experience.   I’m not tempted by small gift certificates and discounts.  

Does anyone else actually LIKE filling out those endless surveys?

Am I the only person who would much rather get a survey that said something really simple like “Tell us what you think.  No twenty questions—just tell us one thing that we did really well or one thing that really ticked you off.” I might actually answer that survey.
Am I an unusually cranky consumer, or am I typical?

Giving Back to the Writing Community

 

Today the Femmes welcome NANCY J. COHEN, a multi-talented author known for her excellent mystery, romance and sci-fi/fantasy books. I met Nancy many years ago at my first Malice Domestic convention and have enjoyed her books ever since.

So glad to have you here, Nancy!

 

 

Giving Back to the Writing Community

 

During a recent weekend, my husband and I drove to a hazardous waste disposal site to get rid of a box full of household cleaners and other chemical agents. We were told our city no longer had a contract there, and to go to another depot that wouldn't open again until August.

 

Our good intentions foiled, we landed at a restaurant and ate a late breakfast. Our stomachs got the toxic waste instead of the disposal site. Goodbye to my diet plan for the day and my good intentions to eat only healthy foods.

 

How does this relate to writing? In our careers, we have many opportunities for doing good. Our best intentions might get shuffled aside under external pressure, but we shouldn't lose sight of our altruistic goals.

 

Ask yourself, which will be more lasting in the long run -- your books or the influence you have on others? You may leave them both behind someday, but the effects you've had on other people in your life might create ripples that turn into streams. So what can you do to help others in a good way?

 

• Give workshops so other writers can benefit from your expertise. Learn how to teach and use your skills to imbue new writers with the techniques they need to improve their writing.

 

• Act as a mentor. Take a fledgling writer under your wing, or offer advice to a more experienced colleague who needs career guidance. Be realistic but encouraging. Your feedback and valued opinions will be appreciated.

• If you see a need, fulfill it. This is what let me to write Writing the Cozy Mystery.

 

 

No one had specifically addressed this genre in a how-to guide before. Everyone seemed afraid of the label. Not me! I'm proud of what I write. My mysteries are humorous whodunits with a romantic subplot. I even had the nerve to marry off my main characters.

 

Hanging by a Hair is the eleventh book in the series and the first book following the happy couple's nuptials. My years of workshops on writing mysteries are in this little gem of an instructional guidebook. Believe it or not, this nonfiction title has received more reviews than any of my novels. Who would have thought?

 

• Reward your readers. Run contests, offer giveaways, reveal new cover art and excerpts. Make your readers feel connected to you by sharing aspects of your life. Show them you appreciate their loyalty. We write for our audience. Always keep them in mind and give back whenever possible. Offer prize drawings for blog commenters and random giveaways on your Facebook page. Hold a new release party and give away swag related to your book. Ask your readers what they like to win and follow through. If you're really ambitious and have enough of a following, consider starting a street team. Again, reward your loyal followers for their efforts in your behalf.

 

•  Support your local libraries. Offer to do writing workshops at your local library or contact the Friends of the Library and let them know you're available for book and author events.

 

•  Promote an indie bookstore. If you have an indie bookstore in your locale, support it by frequenting events there, buying books, and mentioning signed copies of your titles are available there to readers along with a link on your website.

 

•  Help your colleagues by commenting on their blogs, sharing their posts, retweeting their messages, and highlighting their new releases. Spread the word about their work to your readers. Post reviews of their books and consider giving one as a gift.

 

• Volunteer to assist at a writer's conference or at your local writing group.Step forward and take on a responsibility. You'll make new friends while generating good will.

 

By doing all or some of these items, you'll feel better about yourself while supporting your writing community. Giving back is one way of showing gratitude for your good fortune. Do some good out there, and it might follow you home.

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Hanging By A Hair, a Bad Hair Day Mystery by Nancy J. Cohen

Marla's joyous move to a new house with her husband, Detective Dalton

Vail, is marred by their next-door neighbor who erects an illegal fence

between their properties. When Dalton reminds the man of the local

permitting laws, tempers flare -- and worse, the neighbor is found

dead the following day. Dismayed when Dalton is removed from the

case due to a conflice of interest, Marla decides it's up to her to find

the killer. Can the intrepid hairstylist untangle the clues and pin down

the culprit before he strikes again?

 

 

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Hanging-Hair-Nancy-J-Cohen/dp/1432828142

 

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hanging-by-a-hair-nancy-j-cohen/1116603785

 

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Nancy J. Cohen writes the humorous Bad Hair Day mystery series featuring

hairdresser Marla Shore. Several of these titles have made the Independent

Mystery Booksellers Association bestseller list. Nancy is also the author of

Writing the Cozy Mystery, a valuable instructional guide for writers on how to

write a winning whodunit. Her imaginative romances have proven popular with

fans as well. Her titles in this genre have won the HOLT Medallion and Best

Book in Romantic SciFi/Fantasy at The Romance Reviews. A speaker at

conferences, libraries, and community events, Nancy is listed in Contemporary

Authors, Poets & Writers, and Who's Who in U.S. Writers, Editors, & Poets.

Currently, Nancy is President of Mystery Writers of America Florida Chapter.

 

 

Follow Nancy Online

Website: http://nancyjcohen.com

 

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Family Recipe

By Elaine Viets

I still miss my Grandma Vierling, especially this time of year. Grandma lived in St. Louis County. We called it the country then. Woods and blackberry patches surrounded her one-acre yard. Most of her backyard was a garden and she loved grubbing in it.

About now, the tomatoes would be ripe, and she’d have a row of them ripening on the kitchen window. The cucumber vines would be running wild. Strawberry season was nearly over, but the peaches, Concord grapes and blackberries would be ready soon.

And Grandma would be in the kitchen, canning, pickling and preserving all her home-grown food. She was a southern cook, with a gift for making cheap cuts of meat tender. Sunday dinner had two meats, mashed potatoes and gravy, and vegetables boiled to mush. They grew in dirt, and Grandma didn’t trust them unless they were safely boiled.

But her table sparkled  with cut-glass dishes holding cha-cha relish made from her tomatoes, homemade bread-and-butter pickles, and at least three kinds of jelly or jam: grape, blackberry and strawberry. Dessert was often peach pie made with the peaches Grandma put up herself. They tasted like a warm summer afternoon even in dead December.

Frances Vierling was a classic grandma, five feet tall with crinkly gray hair, a round figure, welcoming arms and a generous lap. I wanted to cook like her.

She wanted me to finish college. Grandma went to work in a factory after the fourth grade and had an almost religious respect for a degree.

I worshipped her food.

Grandma never used a recipe or a measuring cup. She cooked from memory. I’d watch her take a hand fulls of flour, add a pinch of this and a shake of that and produce another mouth-watering meal.

I tried to duplicate it, but I guess I had bigger hands. I could never duplicate her results. Maybe there was a reason her big old porcelain stove was called Magic Chef.

Her biscuits were legendary – warm buttered clouds.

"At least show me how to make biscuits," I begged her. "Give me your  recipe."

"You want a recipe?" she asked. She pulled a big yellow box of Bisquick out of her pantry and plopped it on the kitchen table.

"There’s your family recipe. Don’t waste your time cooking. Go to college."

NOTE: WXEL host Ann Bocock interviewed me for her show, "Between the Covers." Check out the PBS TV station interview here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YixLfnDNcBQ&feature=youtu.be. You can also enjoy the interview with our own Hank Phillippi Ryan on the same site.

My Favorite Book

Like all other writers, at every personal appearance I’m asked the same things: “Who’s your favorite writer? What’s your favorite book?”

My answer has come to be, “It depends on which week it is.” I have read so many books and found so much to admire that I have no one clear response. Sure, I have writers that I often recommend to people who like my books. But that too can depend on which books of mine they’ve enjoyed the most. If they’ve liked my conventional mysteries, I can safely recommend any of my blogbuddies on this site. Or I can advise them to read Margaret Maron, or Carolyn Hart, or Eve Sandstrom, or Denise Swanson.

If they’re readers who like something edgier, I can tell them what pleasure I’ve found in Laura Lippman, or Robert Crais, or Lee Child, or Karin Slaughter, or Charlie Huston.

If you tell me you like writers who write both mysteries and science fiction, well, I’ve got a list of those, starting with Barbara Hambly and stretching a mile.

Out and out urban fantasy? Jim Butcher, Kim Harrison, Kelley Armstrong, Carrie Vaughn, Kevin Hearne, Benedict Jacka, Mike Carey . . .

Much edgier fantasy? Oh, gosh, just a few: Richard Kadrey, Lillian Saintcrow, Rob Thurman, Laurell K. Hamilton.

And that’s just living writers. Don’t get me started on dead ones.

So please, if you see me in person, be prepared for a long answer if you ask me who my favorite writer is.

And if you really care who I’m reading, you can find out what books I’ve read for the past two years; at least, the ones I’ve enjoyed. Just visit my website (www.charlaineharris.com) and click on BOOK & BLOG. You can find out there.

There are so many great books out there. The only problem, as I see it, is finding the time to read them.

Charlaine Harris