My Weblog

How Lucky Can I Get?

 

By Elaine Viets

　

Sunday, January 18, was my lucky day. I was in New York that weekend  for the  Mystery Writers of America’s board orientation, and elected MWA’s  Secretary. (The board is Femme-rich: Donna Andrews is Executive Vice President and Dean/Miranda James is a director at large.) After a weekend of good food, good conversation and long meetings, I was ready to return to Fort Lauderdale.

The La Guardia airport shuttle picked me up at the ungodly hour of 6:50 a.m. I skipped  breakfast – I’d eat at the airport.

The shuttle van had no seatbelts in the middle seat, so I hung onto the bench arm. It was raining, but all went well until the van got to La Guardia about 7:30. On the overpass heading to the Departure ramp, Edward, our driver, saw five or six cars piled up. He slowed and our van slid until it was some two feet from the guard rail. Everyone screamed. Fortunately, the van didn't hit anything or anyone.

"It's not snowing," our Latino driver said. "Why is it slippery?"

"Freezing rain," we all screamed. "Overpasses freeze first."  

Now we could see at least eight cars and taxis had hit one another. One car’s tire was torn off the wheel. A driver carried his dislocated bumper up the overpass near our van and tried to stop more traffic from piling up.

As an out-of-control car slid toward him, the woman next to me screamed, "He's gonna get run over."

The car missed him, barely. Three more cars slammed into one another. We were still unhit and unhurt. People were wandering around, checking the damage to their vehicles.

Our driver, Edward, got out and fell hard, then climbed back inside. Two police officers asked if anyone in our van was hurt. "We’re okay," we said. "What should we do?"

"If you want to make your flights, you might try walking up the hill," one cop said. "This will be closed for a while. We have to see if anyone is injured."

Now we saw emergency vehicles on other overpasses and flashing ambulances up and down the highway. I don’t know how many cars were in our pile up -- maybe 15 or 20. Police closed our exit and rerouted the airport traffic.

Three people in our van decided to walk uphill to the terminal. I slipped on the van’s step – my new boots had slick leather soles. Since my flight wasn't until 10:46, I stayed in the van, hoping the weather would improve.

All around me, people were gingerly walking, slipping, and sliding with  their luggage. One man was wheeling a baby in a stroller and they were both sliding.

A Latino cab driver who couldn't start his battered cab knocked on our van window and climbed in to get warm. Both drivers said they didn’t get paid when they couldn’t drive. The cab driver showed me his baby’s pictures.

I called Don on my cell. "What’s wrong?" my husband said. "I can tell by your voice something’s happened."

"I’m fine," I said, "but I was in a multi-car pile up. I’m not hurt, but I may miss my flight."

It was now 8:30 and pouring rain. The road looked a little less slippery. I said to the two drivers, "I’ll give you $20 if you walk me and my luggage up to the terminal." The taxi driver had to stay with his disabled cab.

"I’ll take you," the van driver said. "I have better shoes in the back." He changed shoes and took my luggage. I walked behind him, holding onto his shoulder and the overpass rail. I winced when I looked over its ice-coated side: The highway was a long way down. We made it up the slippery hill after half an hour, taking tiny steps.

Two terminal workers cheered when we made to the dry sidewalk. I wished Edward luck, trundled into the terminal and saw my airline had a flight leaving for Fort Lauderdale in half an hour. I made it through TSA in record time and ran for the 9:36 a.m. gate. The airline didn’t charge me to change planes

Safe!

Sort of. With no food, but I didn't care.

I was stuck in the tail with two families who had a total of eight kids under the age of five, including twins and a two-year-old with an ear-piercing screech. The parents were of the "now, honey" school of parenting. Honey ignored them. Most of the other kids cried.

Our plane was parked for an hour. First, there was a mechanical problem, then the wings had to be de-iced.

Finally, we took off into three hours of turbulence and screaming kids. I was thrilled when we landed in Fort Lauderdale. I checked the monitor. My 10:46 a.m. flight looked like it was delayed until 6:30 p.m.

I’m not sure how much more good luck I can take.

                                                ****

Win "Shop Till You Drop," my first Dead-End Job Mystery. Click on Contests at www.elaineviets.com

 

The Female Of The Species ...

Catriona writes: It's an enormous pleasure to welcome today's guest to Femmes Fatales. I first met Alex when she threatened to derail a liar's panel at a convention. The panel hinged on there being some things a writer wouldn't talk about with a mic on in front of a huge audience; a concept that appeared utterly alien to Alex. She was an open book - wall-to-wall honesty, with a big heart and aserious mind. Right then I knew I wanted to read her work, because what better toolkit could a writer have?

Today she's talking honestly and seriously about the question of violence in crime fiction, particularly, violence against women, particularly brutal and unrelieved violence against women.  She wants to know what we think and how we react, how the writers amongst us handle violence and whether we all as readers have a line in the sand.  And as if we didn't want to speak out on this anyway - Alex is giving away an audiobook of Huntress Moon, to a commenter.

And now, Alex writes:

I’ve had enough.

Last summer I was at Harrogate, the international crime writing festival, and prominently displayed in the book room was a new crime fiction release that featured a crucified woman on the cover. 

A crucified woman. On the cover.

It’s not like I’ve never come across a crucified woman in a crime novel before. In fact, I’ve had to stop reading three or four novels in the last two years when variations of this scene came up. But on the cover, now? The selling image of the novel?

2014 was also the year of the highly praised TV miniseries True Detective, which featured two complex male detectives and a female cast made up entirely of hookers, dead hookers, little dead girls, a mentally challenged incest victim, and the female lead: a wife who cheats on her husband with his partner because she’s too weak to just freaking leave him. Oh right, there was a female love interest who was a doctor – but she had, I believe, one line in the entire show. Maybe two. Defenders of the show argue, “But the detectives weren’t sympathetic, either.” No, they weren’t, always – but unlike the entire female cast, they were actual, developed characters, not fuck toys for the male characters or – well, corpses.

Then there’s Game of Thrones – a great series that has become unwatchable for me because of the overwhelming frequency of rapes. Defenders of that show say: “But in that world, in those warring countries, there would be a lot of rape. It’s reality.” Yeah, but if you’re arguing realism – the boys and male hostages would be being raped along with the women – just look at the US statistics of male-on-male rape in our own military. But on Game of Thrones, somehow it’s just the women.

And difficult as it is to confront the videogame images dissected in Anita Sarkeesian’s sobering series, “Tropes vs. Women”,  http://www.feministfrequency.com/2014/06/women-as-background-decoration-tropes-vs-women/ - I think we can’t afford not to watch and learn. We’re going to have to wake up to the messages teenage boys are growing up with.

Those are just some high-profile examples. Believe me, I could go on all day and not scratch the surface.

So what do we do? How do we counteract the brutalization of women in crime fiction and media?

I suppose as an author you can avoid the issue by writing cozies, or another genre entirely. But I don’t read cozies, and I wouldn’t know how to write one. I used to teach in the L.A. County prison system. I want to explore the roots of crime, not soft pedal it. For better or worse, my core theme as a writer is “What can good people do about the evil in the world?”

So my choice is to confront the issue head on.

The fact is, one reason crime novels and film and TV so often depict women as victims is because it’s reality. Since the beginning of time, women haven’t been the predators – we’re the prey. Personally, I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

But after all those years (centuries, millennia) of women being victims of the most heinous crimes out there… wouldn’t you think that someone would finally say – “Enough”? 

And maybe even strike back?

Well, that’s a story, isn’t it?

So my Huntress Moon series is about just that.

The books are intense psychological suspense, and take the reader on an interstate manhunt with a haunted FBI agent on the track of what he thinks may be that most rare of killers – a female serial.

Now, I’ve been studying serial killers for years. Years ago, when I was a screenwriter writing crime thrillers, I tracked down the FBI’s textbook on sexual homicide before it was ever available to the public. I attend Citizens Police Academies and other law enforcement and forensics workshops whenever I get the chance. If I know there’s a behavioral profiler at a writing convention, I stalk that person so I can pick his or her brain about serial killers. And I attend Lee Lofland’s fantastic Writers Police Academy (a yearly three-day conference that’s a law enforcement and forensics immersion course).

And here’s what’s really interesting. Arguably there’s never been any such thing as a female serial killer in real life. The women that the media holds up as serial killers operate from a completely different psychology from the men who commit what the FBI calls “sexual homicide”. 

Even Aileen Wuornos, infamous in the media as “America’s First Female Serial Killer” wasn’t a serial killer in the sense that male killers like Bundy, Gacy and Kemper were serial killers. The profilers I’ve interviewed call Wuornos a spree killer with a vigilante motivation.  (I write about her case, and the psychology of other real life mass killers, in Huntress Moon.)

So what’s that about? Why do men do it and women don’t? Women rarely kill, compared to men — but when it happens, what does make a woman kill?

Within the context of my Huntress series I can explore those psychological and sociological questions, and invite my readers to ask – Why? I can realistically bring light on crimes that I consider pretty much the essence of evil – and turn the tables on the perpetrators.

I do not depict rape or torture on the page. I can assure you, no one gets crucified.  I think real life crime is horrific enough without rubbing a reader’s face in it or adding absurd embellishments (my personal literary pet peeve is the serial killer with an artistic streak or poetic bent).

In this series I can pose questions about human evil, as it actually presents in real life, without exploiting it. And I’ve created a female character who breaks the mold – but in a way that makes psychological sense for the overwhelming majority of people who read the books.

Whoever she is, whatever she is, the Huntress is like no killer Agent Roarke – or the reader – has ever seen before. And you may find yourself as conflicted about her as Roarke is.

Because as one of the profilers says in the book: “I’ve always wondered why we don’t see more women acting out this way. God knows enough of them have reason.”

So, Femmes, I’d like to know: do the authors among you grapple with the issue of how to counteract the brutalization of women in crime fiction?  And what about readers? Do you ever feel that violence agains women in crime fiction, TV and film has gone over the top?

 

Alexandra Sokoloff is the Thriller Award-winning and Bram Stoker and Anthony Award-nominated author of eleven supernatural, paranormal and crime thrillers.The New York Times has called her "a daughter of Mary Shelley" and her books "Some of the most original and freshly unnerving work in the genre." As a screenwriter she has sold original scripts and written novel adaptations for numerous Hollywood studios. She also teaches the internationally acclaimed Screenwriting Tricks for Authors workshops, based on her Screenwriting Tricks for Authors workbooks and blog.

She lives in Los Angeles and in Scotland, with Scottish crime author Craig Robertson.

Books 1 & 2 of the Huntress/FBI Thrillers, Huntress Moon and Blood Moon, are available now from Thomas & Mercer.  Book 3, Cold Moon, releases May 5, and is available for pre-order.  Sign up on my Contest page for a chance to win audiobooks, signed print copies, and one of three Kindle Voyages!

 

 

 

PULL-OUT BOOKS

Patrick Rothfuss, Laurell K. Hamilton, various mystery writers . . . and to a certain extent, myself. What do we have in common? Pullouts. At least that’s how I think of think of work that’s not part of your main body of fiction, but deals with the same characters from another viewpoint.

I just finished The Slow Regard of Silent Things, a short book about one of the characters in Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicle. And Laurell K. Hamilton has published several books that are focused on one or another side character in her famous Anita Blake series (the most recent is Jason). Janet Evanovich intersperses her best-selling Stephanie Plum books with Diesel books; and Diesel started out as a minor character in the original series.

One of my favorite mystery writers, Robert Crais, simply switched points of view in his Elvis Cole series to write about Joe Pike, Elvis’s friend and partner. Bomb squad ace Carol Starkey has also gotten her own novel after appearing in an Elvis Cole story.

Speaking for myself, I suppose Dead but not Forgotten might be considered a series of pull-outs . . . just penned by other writers, about characters who’d appeared in my Sookie Stackhouse novels.

I don’t know if this happened very often in past decades. If you know of instances, please tell me. And I’m sure I’ve only skimmed the list of writers who are approaching this way of looking at their worlds.

I think that’s what this mini-trend reflects. It’s like flipping over a shiny thing you like, to see all aspects of it. If you think it’s so neat, maybe other people will, too. Besides, it’s your favorite shiny thing, and you hate to let go of it. And maybe you feel you have a lot more to say about it, too.

Those of you who are writers, have you ever considered doing this? Those of you who are readers, how do you feel about it? Is this something that’s fun for you, or a sort of adaptation of bait-and-switch?

Charlaine Harris

Books I Enjoyed This Month

 

from Mary Saums

 

Brrrrrr ... it's definitely and officially winter here way down south. Icy cold and  AND ...  a dusting of snow on the ground this morning!!!! Weeee!! None on the roads though. Just beautiful sunshine and a wind that'll freeze anything standing still.

Inside, we have perfect reading weather, fortunately. Here are a few books that gravitated to me this month, all most entertaining and just a tad on the different side.

 

 

THE RUBY IN THE SMOKE by Philip Pullman

The Sally Lockhart series, #1

 

Set in Victorian London (you know I've got to have my fix), this series has so many wonderful aspects. Philip Pullman does a brilliant job of mixing the old standard style of Victorian Penny Dreadful-type stories with the more modern ideas of believable characters and plots.

Sally Lockhart is left alone in the world when her father dies. Not good for an underage youth in any place or time period, but in old London, there's menace aplenty skulking around in the fog.

Sally's a wonderful strong girl who does find friends but also some very nahhh-sty villains who want her dead.

 

THE SHADOW IN THE NORTH

by Philip Pullman

Sally Lockhart #2

 

A few years have past since the events in book #1. Sally has made a most unconventional choice for her time in setting up her own business in her own office. This does not sit well with certain members of society. Worse, she dares to advise clients, mostly women, on financial matters including how to invest their money. Her father, who had been a successful businessman, educated Sally himself rather than send her to school. From him she also learned foreign languages and how to shoot pistols. Mighty handy.

A client, a retired woman who took Sally's advice to invest in a shipping company, loses all her money when the company goes under. She and Sally believe something underhanded was going on so Sally investigates.

 

 

THE TIGER IN THE WELL

by Philip Pullman

Sally Lockhart #3

 

Things are going very well for Sally when this book begins. Then an extremely bizarre thing happens. A man she has never met claims to be her husband. Obviously a nut case and an easy thing to disprove, right? Not so. 

An interesting lesson in Victorian society and anti-feminist sentiment, but somewhat overdone, IMIO. (in my ignorant opinion) Also, the icky-ness of a few villains gave me the creeps. Still a great read. 

And of all the books I've read in my life, never have I read anything in mystery fiction about the plight of European Jews in England during this time. If you know of others, please let me know in the comments section.

One more thing, at the end, when Pullman writes about a group of orphan misfit children who rescue a child, you're not reading a book anymore. You're watching a movie. Each child is so beautifully written. Careful - you'll fall in love.

 

The BBC made a TV series based on the books starring Billie Piper as Sally.

 

  

And ... wait a minute ...

  

 

... why didn't anybody tell me Matt Smith was in it? Geez, I'd have been all over it by now. Maybe it's streamable on Netflix or Acorn.

 

 

LEGION: SKIN DEEP

by Brandon Sanderson

Stephen Leeds Book #2

 

Stephen Leeds isn't like most fictional heroes. He's off-the-scale intelligent, extremely wealthy, but he's famous because he participated in a well-publicized scientific experiment in which he was the guinea pig. Leeds doesn't have multiple personalities, he has what he calls "aspects" who behave as if they're separate people/entities. He knows they're not real. And yet, they are his "team" when an unsolvable problem is brought to him to figure out.

In SKIN DEEP, he's hired to find a missing corpse, one that may have been spiked with experimental DNA that could cause a worldwide plague. Cameras in the morgue are no help, so Leeds must rely on his aspects' help to solve this one.

 

 

 

 

AN ANTHROPOLOGIST ON MARS: SEVEN PARADOXICAL TALES

by Oliver Sacks

 

Oliver Sacks writes the most interesting and touching non-fiction books in the world. He's a distinguished neurologist who is able to show us marvelous things about our brains, how we think, who and what we are, through his studies of exceptional people. In ANTHROLOPOLOGIST, most of the cases are to do with artists who have developed a brain problem.

Sacks relates complex scientific info to those of us who are not neurologists very well. His obvious compassion makes all of his books worth reading. 

 

===

 

If you've read a "WOW!" book lately that you'd like to recommend, feel free to do so. Would love to hear from you.

 

Have a good weekend!

 

This Is Not Really About Football

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:   What does Tom Brady, quarterback for the New England Patriots, have to do with crime fiction writing?

First let me say, you know how much I love the cover of WRITES OF PASSAGE, the anthology of wonderful and generous essays by Sisters in Crime members that I edited (with Elaine Will Sparber.). It’s gorgeous, and the crane on the cover, designed by the wonderful Henery Press, is stellar. (Keep reading, there’s a giveaway at the end!)

 

But maybe in the next edition, we could put this picture on the cover.   Okay, the back cover.

 

Tom Brady?

 What does Tom Brady, quarterback for the New England Patriots, have to do with crime fiction writing?

Turns out—quite a bit.  And just as Writes of Passage is an inside look at the writers’ journey, this photo of TB 12 is inspirational.

 We are still floating from the big win last weekend, but this photo isn’t from then.  I snapped it from the TV the week before, when, during the first half of the game against the Ravens, it really looked as if all was lost for the New England Patriots.

The team was a disaster. Nothing worked. Whatever bad can happen in football happened, and worse. Tom Brady, who has been known to get upset and frustrated and yell at the universe (did you see his outburst that was famously bleeped a few weeks ago?) was clearly and obviously discouraged.

He sat on the bench, and put his head in his hands. Wow, I said to Jonathan, he is so upset. Understatement.

How many times, whether you’re writing or doing whatever you do, have you felt like that? Like—this book isn’t working, or this idea stinks, or someone criticizes you, or you were rejected, or –whatever other depressing disappointing awful things happen?

And there are the days where you say: Whose idea was this?  The days where you say: I think I’ll just go take a nap for about FOUR WEEKS.  The days (for writers)  when you can never even remember how you possibly wrote your last book, and far be it from your feeble brain ever to write another one. Let alone have a good idea 

And maybe like, Tom Brady, you sit on your couch or at your computer, and just for the tiniest of moments, you put your head in your hands and begin to give up. And remember, T(m Brady was not alone.  Fifty thousand (or however many) fans in the stands were feeling like—maybe the season was over.

And who knows. Tom’s a multi-millionaire, with a smart and fabulous wife, and two darling kids, and already had a hall of fame career. So  he might have entertained a thought or two about—giving up. What do you want from me, anyway?

But then, but then.

And you know what happened? We cant see the little thought bubbles that must have been coming through Tom’s brain at this point, but although they may have included the word  “surrender”—the agony of defeat did not least long.

I will not list everything that happened in the game after this photo was taken, but it was—awesome. There were fancy plays and fabulous passes, and interceptions and stuff you can’t even imagine football players doing. I only kind of understand all the super-complicated rules, but I do understand passion and determination and –and I do understand that the only thing that keeps us down is when we stop believing in ourselves

Tom Brady may have been having a dark moment, right here sitting on the bench as it must have felt like the game was slipping away. But then--he picked himself up, slammed on his helmet, and went out on the field and—played better football than anyone has seen in a long long time. And that spirit and that skill and that determination was contagious. His teammates got the winning fever, and they powered through the game.

And they won, of course. And won this weekend, too, and now they’re on to the Super Bowl.

So I’m going to print out this photo, and post it in my writing space. And when I’m thinking—oh, gosh, wonder if I can still do this? I’ll look at Tom and think—watch this, world.

We all have our Writes of Passage, whether our job is on the field or in an office or a kitchen or on a computer.  May you all be heading for your own Super Bowls. Well wait—you already are. 

Do you have something you look at for inspiration?

And a copy of WRITES OF PASSAGE to one lucky commenter!

 

 

The First Llama

by Donna Andrews

I always like it when I find that my readers are invested enough in the world of my books to ask questions about the characters that go beyond the page. And I figure if one reader wonders, maybe others do. So I thought I'd share a few recent reader questions.

 Sherri H. asked:

Is Randall Shiffley married?

The short answer: No, he isn't. It's never come up in the books, but I suspect he wishes he'd met Meg before Michael came along.

Sara L. wrote to say:

Today I was re-reading three of your most recent Meg Langslow books (and that’s certainly a nice way to spend a frigid West Virginia snowed-in day)!  I have a question that’s come up over the past several of your books. I’d like to know how Meg and Michael are always able to afford to buy the things they do for themselves, their house, their boys, etc.  In the recent Nightingales book, for example, you say that Meg stops off at the local bakery to buy two dozen baked items to take to a meeting of the designers of the show house. That’s a lot of money these days and I always wonder how she can afford these expenditures. Meg and Michael always have huge groups of relatives and friends at their house (who need to be fed), and they have everything that’s new and modern for the boys and themselves. It’s hard to imagine how they are able to afford all this if their income source is Michael’s salary as a teacher. Did someone leave them a pot of money in a will? Or are Rob and Rose Noire paying them exorbitant sums to live in their house? I know Rob has made a lot of money off of his Mutant Wizards company, but can Rose Noire actually afford to live like this just off her gift basket sales?  We all wonder about how real people whom we know are able to buy thing that appear to us to be beyond their budget or to travel the way they do. We gossip and say we may often say, “I wonder how they DO that.” It’s the same thing when we’re reading your books. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wondered “How can they AFFORD that?”

 My answer:

Well, Michael isn't a lowly adjunct any more, he's a full professor and the heir apparent to the chairmanship of the drama department. And I think I have mentioned in at least one book that Meg has stock in Mutant Wizards, and that keeps them from having to live on Michael's salary. Mutant Wizards is doing VERY well these days!

And I'm making it a point to mention, in the upcoming The Lord of the Wings, that Meg is understandably protective of the financial solvency of Mutant Wizards.

And finally, Debbie W. asked:

I am confused on one point though.  In Hen of the Baskervilles I think you wrote Meg and Michael’s first llama was Groucho.  In Six Geese A-Slaying wasn’t he called Ernest? 

She's right. When I got to the next book, I forgot that I'd originally named him Ernest. I have yet to address that blooper in the books, but when I do, I think I will mention that Ernest proved to be such a cutup that the name just didn't fit, so they renamed him to match Harpo, their second llama, whose fluffy white coat much resembled the fright wig that Arthur (originally Adoph) Marx wore on stage.

Only three reader questions--I could share more--but maybe it would be more fun to ask--Readers? Do you have a question? And fellow writers--what do you do when you get reader questions?

 

BSI and Friends Weekend 2015

by Dana

Every year in January (close to the 6th), the Baker Street Irregulars hold their annual BSI and Friends Weekend.  Sherlockians come from all over the world to celebrate the birthday of Sherlock Holmes.  This is my fourth or fifth Birthday Weekend, and every time I go, I have more and more fun.

Alan Bradley and Leslie S. Klinger

The first official event is the Distinguished Speaker presentation; this year Alan Bradley, author of the Flavia de Luce mystery series, spoke about the writing of weather in fiction and particularly in the Sherlock Holmes canon.  Mr. Bradley was also kind enough to donate a character naming to the auction raising money for the Watson Fund and I'm delighted to report that Carla Coupe and I had the winning bid and our character name will appear in the next Flavia mystery! 

The Baker Street Babes host an auction of Sherlockiana every year to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project--remember, John Watson was recovering from wounds he received in the Second Anglo-Afghan War when he first met Sherlock Holmes.  Fan art, signed books on all things Sherlockian, and jewelry were up for grabs this year--and this little beauty (SH would eventually retire to raise and study bees in Sussex) came home with me.

 The William Gillette Luncheon and the BSI Dinner are always opportunities to meet new people, and the traditions of toasting and remembering friends is wonderful.  I'm always struck by the affability of Sherlockians and blown away by the terrific writing and acting that characterize the speeches and skits.  Fellow Fatale Toni Kelner wrote recently about the fascination that enthusiasm holds, and Sherlockians are enthusiastic about many, many things.

Did I mention the books?  There are books!  That's what bring us together.  Pastiches? Check.  Facsimile reproduction of "The Empty House" with essays?  Check.  Scholarly research on SH?  Check.  Biography of ACD?  Check.  

The Solar Pons is autographed!

The Saturday Cocktail Party is an opportunity for another auction and more socializing.  There is always genteel and learned conversation on many topics, but there was also, at the table I shared, TARDIS Jenga.  

One last bit of news:  I'm thrilled to announce that Laurie R. King and Leslie S. Klinger have asked me to contribute a Sherlockian story to their next collection!  If you haven't already read A Study in Sherlock or In the Company of Sherlock Holmes...go do it!

Baker Street Babes Maria Fleischhack and (newly invested BSI!) Kristina Menente

Men Are Easy

By Elaine Viets

Men don’t know how to shop.

You’ve seen the clueless dudes in the malls, trying to buy gifts for their wives. The poor saps look like they’d rather prep for a colonoscopy.

I don’t like waiting on these men. One of my first jobs was a salesclerk at a mall dress shop. Husbands would come in, wanting to buy a gift for their wives.

"What size is she?" I’d ask Mr. Clueless.

"I dunno," Mr. C would say, and scratch his head. "About your size?"

I’m six feet tall. At the time, I was 18 years old and weighed 123 pounds. I was pretty sure his forty-something wife was NOT my size.

So yeah, I felt sorry for these men. They were trying to do the right thing, but they didn’t know how to shop.

Now I realize I’m wrong. Dead wrong. People in retail say men are better shoppers than women.

My Florida friend Carol says men are such good shoppers, she truly enjoys waiting on them.  Carol works in the ritzy Palm Beach Gardens shopping center.

 

Here’s why Carol prefers shoppers of the opposite sex. 

"Men never say, ‘Does this outfit make my butt look too big?’

"If a man likes a shirt, he’ll buy it in all colors. Same shirt, same style, all six colors."

  "Plus, men never ask, ‘What’s on sale?’ "

True. Women haunt the sale racks at upscale stores, waiting until that $300 cashmere sweater is marked down to $75. A friend who’s an avid bargain hunter confessed that she once hid a sweater at the bottom of a pile, so her size would be available when the markdowns started.

Don, another salesperson who works in men’s furnishings at a major retail chain, says he’d rather wait on men.

"Men never made demands," he said. "They know what they want. Women will run you ragged trying to find just the right thing. Then when I track it down, they change their minds and don’t buy it after all.

"Men never look for bargains or use coupons. They don’t care what it costs if they want it.

"If a man really likes a suit or jacket that doesn't quite fit he’ll pay any amount to get it altered so fits right. Women expect free alterations."

I’m almost convinced.

What do you think? Are women better shoppers? Or is my sales slip showing?

　Win Shop till You Drop, the first mystery in my Dead-End Job series. Click on Contests at www.elaineviets.com

 

　

　

　

Enthusiasm!

by Toni L.P. Kelner / Leigh Perry

The world is filled with hobbies and games and pastimes and vocations and avocations that mean absolutely nothing to me. I don't care about sports, other than the obligatory cheer for the Boston-area teams. I'm not a foodie, I don't follow fashion week, I've never canned vegetables and rarely cook from scratch. My yard is cared for by a service, and the only potted plant in my house is gone as soon as I can find somebody who wants it. Furniture building and refinishing sounds like drudgery and I can't imagine myself ever running a marathon.

But enthusiasm fascinates me.

Including enthusiasm for things I know nothing about. Maybe especially for things I know nothing about.

Today at a restaurant, I saw a momentarily unoccupied server doing what I thought were funky dance moves. He noticed me noticing him, and came over to explain he was practicing the moves of Olympic-style weight lifting. He spent about ten minutes explaining the differences in styles of weight-lifting to, showing me videos on his phone, and demonstrating some of the techniques. He explained he lifts weights and works out mainly for looks--and I will say his build reflects this--but he's about to get a certificate in sports medicine. He prefers the Olympic style because you have to use good form, whereas other styles aren't nearly so strict as to the form.

Okay, I didn't get all of what he was saying, but his enthusiasm was just delightful, as was his willingness to share it with a customer. No, I'm not going to start lifting weights. Some of the positions he had to get in make my knees hurt just to see them. But I feel as if I can appreciate the art behind weight lifting now, just a little.

The fact is, I love hearing about people's hobbies and pasttimes, whether or not I ever intend to participate in them myself. Author Troy Soos, author of the Mickey Rawlings historical baseball mysteries, explained the infield fly rule to me in a way I could understand. At least while he was talking. My daughters have told me about the tropes of manga and more recently, techniques of making chain mail. My husband has taught me the rudiments of speaking business, and Femme Dana taught me that chicken eggs come in a rainbow of colors.

Of course, sometimes these nifty bits of knowledge make their way into my books or stories, but honestly, just just a bonus. I'm just as happy to learn about something that I'll never use again.

This weekend, I'll be at the convention Arisia, which bills itself as New England's most diverse science fiction and fantasy convention. They're not kidding. There will be panels on the self defense, belly dance, painting, anime, cosplay, polyamory, juggling, Civil War swords and sabers, bicycles, and fortune telling methods. I don't know much about most of those things, but I can't wait to learn.

So if you run into me at Arisia or another convention, or online, feel free to share your enthusiasm. I'd love to know what it is you love.

The Plague (of books) And I

Book jackets have been on my mind recently. Not only - let's get the BSP out of the way right now - because Midnight Ink have just revealed the gorgeous cover for THE CHILD GARDEN, coming in September:

but also because another gorgeous cover was responsible for the quickest ever failure of a post-Christmas book-buying embargo. 

With the TBR bookcase groaning and a Christmas stocking that was mostly more books (and then I spent my Christmas money from my mother-in-law on guess what too), I declared on the first of January that I wasn't buying any new books until Malice. Except at Left Coast. Or if I needed them to prepare to moderate. Or I was at the launch party. Or Stephen King.

No. New. Books.

Then on Thursday, I saw this in the Avid Reader:

The texture is granular, with some shiny bits and look at how the shape of the beak echoes the thorns and what do those symbols mean and  . . . in short, that photo was taken in my bedroom.

I've long been a sucker for covers. Every Christmas since Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow was published, I've had a "waxy-jacketed snow book" to read. This year it was Allen Esken's The Life We Bury 

 

Although the waxy snow books only get added to once a year, some of the other jacket collections can grow more quickly. 

I got interested in O. Douglas because she was the sister of John Buchan who wrote The 39 Steps (and Kenneth More, in the second film of the novel, dangles from the bridge you can see from my mum's bedroom - it all makes sense, see?) and when I went looking for one of her books to read I found this - the Nelson edition of Penny Plain:

 

Even someone with less of a taste for kitsch than me might well have been a goner. The official O. Douglas (Nelson edition) colelction has grown slowly:

but the thing is, while scouring dusty bookshops looking for these, I've found some delicious non-Douglas jackets I couldn't resist. Some of them have been wrapped around good books by writers who're now firm favourites.  I found this by an unknown author:

and have now read every word Betty MacDonald wrote.  In fact I've spent some time reading that I could usefully have spent organising the collection.  I only today discovered the situation below:

Similarly, I loved the film Mrs 'Arris goes to Paris, with Angela Lansbury in the title role, but I had no idea there were Mrs Harris books until I came across these two (durung a Douglas hunt):

(I've still to track down a Paris, mind you.)

This is not to say that every kitsch gem of a cover has a great book lurking inside. I'll never get round to reading either of these two, I'm pretty sure, but who could resist them?

And of course, not every kitsch cover is a gem. Some of them are what my husband would call "gem's cousin we don't talk about". Like this shocker from Erle Stanley Gardner's publishers:

What had he done to upset them, I wonder? He was luckier with other books.  This one is one of my favourites:

It's hard to pick an outright favourite but I like the fact that these two editions were published only a few years apart, one in the US and in the UK. Guess which is which:

"Put that beastly thing away or I shall slice you to ribbons with the creases in my trousers, you brute!" vs "Oh, yeah? You and whose army?"

Let me know if you want a copy of The Plague And I; I've got at least two to spare.