My Weblog

Femmes Fatales Earn Anthony Award Nominations!

by Dana

I’m delighted to announce that three Femmes Fatales have been nominated for the Anthony Award!  The Anthony is named for Anthony Boucher, is voted for by attendees of the Bouchercon World Mystery Convention, and will be announced at Bouchercon in Anchorage, AK this September. 

Three of the nominations were for Best Short Story, and one for Best Paperback Original. 

Toni L. P. Kelner’s “Sleeping with the Plush” won the Agatha Award for Best Short Story at this year's Malice Domestic.  In "Plush," we learn that all real carnies have nicknames, but not many have to catch a killer to earn them.

Elaine Viets won the Anthony and the Agatha in 2005 for her short story, "Wedding Knife."  Her 2007 nominated short story, “After the Fall,” is about the destructive nature of revenge and features a nice (or not so nice) twist at the end.

And in my story “The Lords of Misrule,” which appeared in the holiday anthology, Sugarplums and Scandal, there is theft, murder, and romance in 18th-century London.  Ashes and Bones, the sixth installment of my Emma Fielding archaeology mysteries, was also nominated for Best Paperback Original. 

All of the nominees and categories are:

BEST NOVEL:

Burke, Jan. KIDNAPPED, Simon & Schuster
Lippman, Laura. NO GOOD DEEDS, Harper
Minda, Denise. THE DEAD HOUR, Little Brown & Co.
Pickard, Nancy. THE VIRGIN OF SMALL PLAINS, Ballantine
Spencer-Fleming, Julia. ALL MORTAL FLESH, St. Martins

BEST FIRST NOVEL

Hart, John. THE KING OF LIES, St. Martins
Hockensmith, Steve. HOLMES ON THE RANGE, St. Martins
Penny, Louise. STILL LIFE, St. Martins
Read, Cornelia. A FIELD OF DARKNESS, Mysterious Press
Sokoloff, Alexandra. THE HARROWING, St. Martins

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL

Cameron, Dana. ASHES AND BONES, Avon
Cook, Troy. 47 RULES OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE BANK ROBBERS, Capital Crime Press
Doolittle, Sean. THE CLEANUP, Dell
Fate, Robert. BABY SHARK, Capital Crime Press
Gischler, Victor. SHOTGUN OPERA, Dell
Hirahara, Naomi. SNAKESKIN SHAMISEN, Bantam Dell - Delta
Huston, Charlie. A DANGEROUS MAN, Ballantine

BEST SHORT STORY

Abbott, Megan. “Policy,” DAMN NEAR DEAD, Busted Flush Press
Cameron, Dana. “The Lords of Misrule,” SUGARPLUMS AND SCANDAL, Avon
Crider, Bill. “Cranked,” DAMN NEAR DEAD, Busted Flush Press
Kelner, Toni. “Sleeping with the Plush,” Alfred Hitchcock Mag
Viets, Elaine. “After the Fall,” Alfred Hitchcock Mag
Wood, Simon. “My Father’s Secret,” Crime Spree Magazine, Bcon Spec Issue ’06

BEST CRITICAL NONFICTION

Huang, Jim and Austin Lugar, Editors. MYSTERY MUSES, Crum Creek Press
Niebuhr, Gary Warren. READ ‘EM THEIR WRITES, Libraries Unlimited
Roerden, Chris. DON’T MURDER YOUR MYSTERY, Bella Rosa Books
Stashower, Daniel. THE BEAUTIFUL CIGAR GIRL, Dutton
Wagoner, E.J., THE SCIENCE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, John Wiley & Sons

SPECIAL SERVICES AWARD

Ardal, Charles. Hard Case Crime
Easter, George. Deadly Pleasures
Huang, Jim. Crum Creek Press and The Mystery Company
Jordan, Jon and Ruth. CrimeSpree Magazine
Kaczmarek, Lynn and Chris Aldrich. Mystery News
Karim, Ali. Shots Magazine
Wheeler, Franchi & Sharon. reviewingtheevidence.com
Van Hertbruggen, Maddy. 4 Mystery Addicts

Congratulations to all of the nominees!  I hope to see you in Alaska!

Foil Is Better Than Alien Mind Abduction

I agree with Julie's blog statement, that friends are much better than foil. When a writer achieves foil-hood, it's something like the Queen tapping a sword on your shoulders. Arise, Sir Reynolds. Even as wonderful an honor as that must be, nothing tops the friendships made along the way in our careers. Foil covers usually go to the seriously romantic or seriously thriller-types. My books may not fit those categories, but I assure you, I am equally serious when it comes to a much more important use of the incredible metal wrap.

That's right. I'm talking about foil hats. If you do not already use one regularly, I urge you to click on the links below on how to make your very own custom alien brain wave deflector. This is not a joke. Think about all the loose electronic waves and particles floating around. There's no telling where they've been. Or where they came from. Until scientists figure out a way to get them out of our brains, there's only one course of action. Deflect those suckers. Who knows, that may be exactly what they are, alien laser beams from outer space with suckers on the ends, slurping our minds out of our skulls. Can you think of a better reason why people from good homes listen to Marilyn Manson? Watch reality TV? I'm telling you, it's rampant. That's why it is so important to act now to protect yourself and your loved ones.

Here's one idea for protective wear that is as attractive as it is beneficial. My friend Merrill Young from Vancouver designed these stunning chapeaus that she and her cat, Freckles, model here. Lovely work, Merrill. I bet Freckles doesn't climb the drapes anymore, now that the little doggie voices can't get through.

A note to writers: Foil headgear should be as much a part of your writing toolkit as a computer, a printer and an emergency vial of holy water. You get double the benefits of the foil's properties. Your story ideas bubble away, safely contained between your head and the foil's underside. The outside, with shiny side OUT, creates the perfect surface for bouncing any type of ray or wave back into the ether. No more static or interruptions in thought just when you had everything figured out in your plot. An added bonus is the deflection of negativity, also believed to travel in waves, from mean people who might roam into your reception area. That alone is worth the small price of a foil hat. Block those unkind thoughts that may prevent you from reaching your full writing potential.

Don't wait. Protect yourself now. Be free of the evil outside forces that bombard our minds daily.

Scientifically inclined? Click here.

Fashionista? Click here.

And a little music hall ditty for your listening pleasure  here.

Thank you, Ms. Rowling!

by Toni L.P. Kelner

As I write this, it is something short of two hours before Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows goes on sale in my time zone, and though I won't be at the store at midnight, you can bet that hitting a store to get a copy is first on the to-do list for tomorrow. (Two copies, in fact, so my husband and I can read them simultaneously.) I started reading the Harry Potter books around the time the third book of the series came out, I think, and have been happily hooked ever since. So like many readers, I offer my sincere gratitude to J.K. Rowling for all the pleasure she's given me. But tonight I want to thank her for what she's done for me as a writer.

First, she made so many nonreaders into readers. Maybe only a small percentage of those readers will ever pick up another book, let alone a mystery like mine, but the more readers there are, the more books will find an audience. What writer among us doesn't want a larger audience?

Second, she's inspired countless writers to start their own books. Sure, most of them will never finish and most of those who do finish, will never publish a word. But just as every kid who ever acted in a school production of Macbeth or played "Freebird" in the garage has a greater appreciation for professional actors and musicians, there are that many more people who will appreciate what it really means to write a book. Maybe, just maybe, there won't be so many people at my signings who say, "I've been wanting to write a book, as soon as I find the time."

Third, she made reading a celebration in a way it probably hasn't been since people met the boats in New York to find out the fate of Dicken's Little Nell. The release of this final book is an event. No, make that an Event, with a capital "E." The media attention has been incredible, and there are parties all over the world tonight. And not just in bookstores. In Harvard Yard in Cambridge, three different live bands are slated to perform. As a writer who keeps trying to find ways to make a book release noticeable, let alone an Event, this gives me hope.

Fourth, she contradicted so many bits publishing wisdom. Before Harry Potter, who'd have believed that a fantasy book would outsell the traditional array of "big books" on the shelves? Or that a children's book would become an adult bestseller? (In my own family, readers from my 11-year-old daughter to my 77-year-old father love Harry.) Or that a writer of any description could become the richest woman in England? It makes me so proud to know that Rowling wrote exactly what she wanted to write, without paying attention to publishing trends, and became a trend of her own.

Fifth, she has gently made herself into a writer with power. When she told Hollywood she'd only sell movie rights if they agreed to use British actors, they said, "Yes, ma'am." When she insisted on embargoes on early reviews, the publishers set it up that way. When flying back to England from the US, and ridiculous safety regulations forbade her from carrying on luggage, she stated that she had the manuscript for the seventh book with her, and they relaxed the rules. As a writer who sometimes feels at the beck and call of pretty much everybody else in the industry--agents, editors, publicists, booksellers--just knowing that some writers get to call the shots now and then cheers me enormously.

So Ms. Rowling, on behalf of all us writers, thank you for bringing us Harry Potter!

Friends Are Better Than Foil

I recently had two fellow authors stay with me overnight while they were in town for a signing. Fellow Femme, Mary Saums, and our dear friend, Carolyn Haines, were in town to sign with Dean James (Signing his new Bridge-based series as Honor Hartman) It is such a treat to get together with friends like these. None of us are –yet – on the bestseller list, but I expect one of them will be one day soon. We spoke of our hopes for our work, and the big dreams that may someday come true. We all of us want success in our chosen careers: the foil-embossed cover, the best-selling logo splashed across the top. Not everyone gets there, but most of us count ourselves successful nevertheless.

Deb Adams, the killer wit who penned the Jesus Creek mysteries, coined the phrase that I’ve used as a title for this blog entry. She was trying to soothe another author’s injured feelings due to the fact that a less-talented author had gotten the contract and the cover that Deb’s friend coveted. This friend at first moaned and groaned about how she had failed as a writer. Deb pointed out that Friend was the winner by a mile -- she had friends who bought her books, read them, and loved them. The Foiled author did not. True, friends may not put you on the NYT Bestseller list, but they do a heck of a lot for you that being a best seller cannot do.

Friends who read good books can discuss topics of interest and usually have the brains to do just that. I’d rather talk about how a really good book affected me than how much or how little a publisher is doing for the book. This is in small part a general tendency to live with my head in the sand about things over which I have no control. My books have done pretty well and I am grateful. The editor was fabulous, the distribution rather less so. I did not have to sell huge numbers of books to meet interesting people, to travel, to speak about things that interest me, and to make friends all over the country – actually, all over the world.

Alas, booksellers and publishers exist to make money. They are a business. So, if you the author aren’t making them money, they have no choice but to go with someone who is. The mystery community has lost some of its funniest, dearest members to Loss of Contract. Still others have stuck around and are enjoying a second career under a nom de plume.

The amount of "foilage" on your cover should not be the measure of your success. (Even if it is a measure of your publisher’s confidence in how much you sell for them. So, it is a little bit important to consider when you’re ruminating on the state of your career.) I, being the ornery woman I am, will continue to consider myself truly lucky to have made so many dear friends in the mystery world. If Foil comes to my covers, so be it. If not, then I consider myself successful because I have written the best books I can, and I have been able to touch people’s lives through those books, making friends I could never have known any other way.

Life is good.

Friends are much better than foil.

Julie

Help! I lost one of my characters!

This is Kiki.  Kiki was, for three years, my nephew Liam's constant companion.  She (or he--I'm not sure I ever learned Kiki's gender) soothed many a stressful moment and shared countless happy ones.  Christmases and birthdays.  Summer romps in the back yard and quiet afternoons watching Thomas the Tank Engine on TV. 

Kiki was a well-traveled stuffed animal.  She made a number of visits to Virginia, to see Grandma and Auntie Donna, and at least one trip to Costa Rica to see Liam's abuelita.  I will never forget the evening when Liam was suffering from a stomach virus while staying with me. and my sister-in-law appeared at the top of the stairs with the horrible news that the latest round of puking had hit Kiki, and could I please run her through the washer and dryer before Liam missed her.  (I managed.)

Kiki had probably been through the washer and dryer a few times, to judge by her appearance.  To be perfectly frank, Kiki was no longer the sleek, glossy plush creature who was originally deposited in Liam's crib by a friend of my brother and sister-in-law.  It's not the years, it's the mileage, as they say, and being the constant companion of an active three-year-old really adds up.  But Liam didn't mind; he and Kiki were inseparable.

Until a few weeks ago, when Kiki . . . disappeared.  My brother and sister-in-law didn't break the news to me until I was visiting them last week. but I gather it was a very difficult for poor Liam.  The more difficult since Kiki's sister, who belongs to Liam's brother Aidan, is still around to remind Liam of his loss.  (The sister, who is confusingly also named Kiki, is identical to Liam's Kiki except that she is brown instead of black.)  And if truth be told, Aidan has rather enjoyed flaunting his Kiki since noticing Liam's sad Kikiless state.

I won't pretend I was as upset as Liam, but I took it hard--not only for Liam's sake, but because I'd made Kiki a character in the book I'm writing (working title Cockatiels at Seven.)  In this book, Meg agrees to take care of a friend's three-year-old, "just for a little while," only to have the mother disappear for the rest of the book--leaving Meg to solve the mystery of her disappearance with little Timmy in tow.   And since Timmy was based in part on my nephews, I made Kiki a character.  Not just a character--she plays a part, though a small one, in the plot.  So you can imagine how stressed I was when the original just disappeared.

But since I began writing this story a few days ago and then failed to post it immediately, I can report that hope is at hand. I managed to study Kiki's sister and learn that Kiki was manufactured by Ty.  Good news, since Ty toys are very well known and collectible.  Close study of the Ty site revealed that Kiki was originally a Ty Purrecious. Intense Googling has revealed a possible source for a new Kiki. I placed my order and held my breath.

And in the mail today, I found a soft, squishy package--Kiki!  She's sitting on my desk as I type.

 

Of course, I have no idea if Liam will accept a brand new Kiki instead of his well-loved one.  Close your eyes, Ty collectors, but I plan to run her through the washing machine a few times before sending her to Liam.  I don't even know if replacing Kiki is a good idea--Liam has coped for a few weeks without her, and I supposed he'd manage somehow. 

But why should he have to, if someone can do something about it?  Life brings us far too many losses--lost people, lost places, lost dreams.  Why add the small but immeasurable burden of a lost Kiki?

So keep your fingers crossed.  I'm heading for the laundry room.

Freeloaders, Get Lost

by Kris

Fair warning: this is going to be a grouchy blog…

It happened again recently. During a live music presentation at my store, someone sidled up to me and whispered, “I wrote a children’s book a couple of years ago, and I couldn’t get it published. I’ll print it out for you and drop it off. You can look through it and tell me what’s wrong with it and how to get it published.”

Sure thing. And maybe after I finish that, I can stop by her house and clean it top to bottom and fill her pantry at my own expense.

I like to think I’m a nice person with a generous spirit, but I’m not a doormat.

There were in excess of 110 people filling the store at that time, with loud music playing. There was no way I could say everything I felt like saying to her. So I limited it to, “I don’t work with children’s books (true). I couldn’t take your money to critique something when I don’t possess enough expertise. You’d do better hiring someone else.”

I hope I got my point across with the words I chose: “money” and “hiring.” Get it? I don’t do editing work for free.

Most people understand that, but too many do not. Strangers start by emailing to ask how much I would charge to critique their novel. I often ask to see part of it before quoting, and if I don’t think I can help them, or if I think their book needs too much work and that they would benefit more from a class or critique group at this stage, I send them off in other directions. But if I do get around to naming what is usually a very reasonable price, some of them say something like, “Don’t you ever do it for free? I’m on a fixed income.”

Overlooking the fact that I, as a writer and bookseller, would love something as secure as a fixed income, let’s see if I understand this: I’m supposed to cut back on the work I do in my store, which provides my unfixed income, and my own writing, so that I can squander my meager time on behalf of some stranger’s writing, for which I will receive no gain. A snotty stranger generally, I might add. One who has already wasted my time.

I’m a pretty good writing instructor and editor. I’m often able to zero in on what’s wrong with someone else’s manuscript. And I enjoy doing it. I find it gratifying when I can bring along someone’s book and writing ability. I’m absolutely thrilled when one of my students gets published.

But where is it written that someone should not be compensated for work they perform well and like doing? That’s not a rhetorical question. I mean it, where is it written? I’d like to go there and erase it.

I know writing coaches are not the only ones who get hit up for free work. Lawyers and doctors tell me they get it all the time. A doctor acquaintance of mine recently confessed her favorite line, for those who try to squeeze free medical advice from her at parties, is to say: “Go over to the corner and strip, and I’ll do the exam there.” How I would love to say something like that!

I know money is tight for lots of people. Heck, I’m one of them. And everybody loves a bargain. But we vote with our dollars. We say, “This is worth something to me, and that is not” by the way we allocate our funds.

It angers, but also saddens, me that too many aspiring writers don’t believe a writer sharing what she’s learned — so other writers may improve — deserves to paid a few bucks for that, when the aspiring writer asked for it. I don’t go to them and say, “Hey, hire me.”

But maybe that’s not what the moochers are all about. Maybe it’s not my time and abilities that they don’t regard worthy of compensation. Maybe it’s their own writing they consider unworthy of the investment.

Okay, enough with the grouchiness.

Except for this…the next time you consider emailing me with, “I’ve attached the first 100 pages of my novel, which an agent has asked to see. Give it a look and tell me anything an agent might object to. I don’t know you, but I hear you’ll do this for people”…let’s just consider the question asked and answered.

scattered

Marlys Millhiser

BITCH, BITCH, BITCH

You may never read this, but I am writing it on my new Dell Inspiron. The Word Perfect spell checker does not recognize the word “Inspiron” nor INSPIRON , so this has got to be the latest and greatest way to keep me up gnashing my teeth all night. I’m having problems with font size and my bite. But that’s okay! God forbid I should finish this one, the fourth draft I’ve started. All new because I lost the last three beginnings I’ve tried for this month’s blog. (Spell check doesn’t recognize blog either.) But that’s okay. I can’t remember what those first three were about anyway. I can’t remember yesterday. How did we ever live without computers?

SOME LIKE IT HOT . . . OR NOT?

Yesterday, I booked us a trip to Switzerland. Suffice it to say I am not a warm-blooded animal. A movie or TV show with a polar bear or iceberg in one scene will turn all my fingers white from knuckles to nails, make my nose run, and my feet go numb. I’ve been known to catch a cold by just the mention of Halloween or Christmas. I am sitting out on the patio in the shade in a slight breeze, in light clothing and it’s maybe 90 degrees out here. I am comfortable. It’s nearing four in the afternoon and I’m beginning to wake up, after a trip to the gym-of -torture, a stint of pick-up house and pull weeds, and a day of many errands. I booked this trip to Switzerland, well-before Christmas but still . . . . Okay I was late making reservations but–put on calendar to-do list to check REI for warm yet light and sexy long underwear. Okay, warm but light. Well, I’ve been published in Europe, but I’m the only one in the family who hasn’t been there. And it’s not like I don’t live in the shadow of the Rockies, but the Alps are legendary and I had a bet on with my guy of the house that I could get the job done in ten minutes by seeing a travel agent. He’d spent hours on the internet googling for just the right trip to Europe that wouldn’t include–having to haul around a suit and dress shoes for one fancy dinner somewhere when you can’t carry more than one suitcase. We wanted a group tour with a driver so we could both see the scenery. And a chance to get out of the bus and explore some of the countryside and okay it took two hours but--

A NEW RANT–EXPERTS

The screen on this new Inspiron is absolutely gorgeous. The father of my children got his skivvies in a knot because no one told us not to touch the screen until there were fingerprints and scratches all over it. He and one of the Geeks constantly tried to show me what to do with fingers or one or the other end of a pencil. The other Geek said, “Oh, by the way, nothing must touch this screen. If it gets dusty, blow on it, but don’t touch. Any mark you make will be there forever.” Giggle. Something called LCD. Like the TV which also has been “touched.” I’ve found that an eye-glasses’ cleaning cloth does pretty well on both, but what do I know?

Meanwhile, life goes on and the world looks cloudy through my reading glasses, and the cat hair sticks to every surface, LCD or not. And our grown children who know everything find us hilarious, but cute. My short story for an anthology is gone altogether, because it was on a floppy disk trying to relocate my files onto the new computer and everyone knows floppy disks are a thing of the past, so I’m better off without them. And I’m ready to tackle the re-write of the last completed-in-the rough book manuscript. Right now I think I’ll print it out from the antiquated floppy disk and work on it on the prehistoric paper copy. Then again there’s always papyrus or a rock and chisel.

Why, you might ask, don’t I blog directly onto the desktop with the internet connection? The organization freak and co-guardian of our cat, says I may be cute but I’m scattered. We’re even thinking of a trip to Tanzania, next year.

Pharaoh Queen

by Dana 

It looks like they’ve found her.  The mummy of Hatshepsut, the Egyptian Queen who ruled as Pharaoh (traditionally a male title and role) for about twenty years in the 15th-century BC was discovered last week.  The reason this is important is that her co-ruler and successor, her nephew and stepson Thutmose III, eradicated many of the inscriptions referring to her after her death, scratching her name off stone monuments.  She created a period of power and prosperity in Egypt.  Among other achievements, including military and political ventures, she built the beautiful funerary monument at Deir el Bahri.  She is terribly important to Egyptian history—and world history—but not nearly as famous as Cleopatra or Nefertiti. 

Egyptology was my gateway to becoming an archaeologist.  When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the idea of queens, women with power.  Through some cartoon or other, I learned about Cleopatra, and got my mother to look her up in the encyclopedia for me.  The only image they had in that article was actually of Tut’s tomb, the famous photo of the jumble of furniture, which was enough to fire the imagination but hardly satisfying.  As I grew up, I kept looking for hints about women in history—queens were rare enough--but looking at history books I had, you’d think half the population was missing.  There were huge gaps between Anne Bradstreet and Queen Victoria and Eleanor Roosevelt, and I remember hanging on to these fleeting mentions of women like a life preserver. 

I think it was when Cosmos originally aired that I first learned about Hatshepsut.  Carl Sagan (one of my science heroes) mentioned her but then I couldn’t find any other references in my local library (this was well before the Internet).  Frustrating.  The next time I heard the name was long after college (by which time I was spending my time several millennia and thousands of miles away from ancient Egypt, exploring colonial New England), when I started reading Elizabeth Peters.  And last year, while I was writing an article about her Amelia Peabody books that the Hatshepsut exhibit came to the Met.  I liked the exhibit; it was sparse, compared to the mega-shows of Tut and Ramses, but it was more information about the Pharoah Queen than I’d seen in decades.  Deeply satisfying, to finally see that mysterious hint of a smile on the faces of her statues. 

It was fellow Femme Toni who let me know the discovery of Hatshepsut’s mummy in KV62 had been made.  It was at lunch and I almost spit out my bread roll (sorry, Toni).  When fellow Femme Charlaine, who has her own fascination with mummies, blogged recently about the discoveries at KV63, I had to admit that I seldom watch archaeology shows on TV.  It’s embarrassing, because either I end up yelling at the screen in violent disagreement or am frustrated because I can’t handle the artifacts myself.  But you know I will be tuning into the Discovery Channel special in two weeks to see what they have to say about Hatshepsut, and hoping more kids out there will have their imaginations fired up by the story of the elusive queen.