Turn on the oven and let's start baking!

For those who don't know, I'm a member of the Cozy Chicks blog and I post on Saturdays.

We're like-minded cozy mystery writers who've banded together to talk about our lives, our writing, and ... food.  As it happens, we all love to eat (and it shows more on some of us than others).  With that in mind, we decided to put together The Cozy Chicks Kitchen, a collection of killer recipes.

We had such fun picking out a title, a cover picture, and collecting more than 100 recipes--some written by us, some "written" by our characters--and let me tell you, mouthwatering?  You better believe it!

In fact, that's just how Julie Hyzy, author of the White House Chef and the Manor House Mysteries put it.  She said:  "THE COZY CHICKS KITCHEN is chock full of mouthwatering gems. Everything is here: main dishes, desserts, salads, soups, drinks, and did I mention desserts? Don’t miss this fabulous collection. I’ve got both the ebook version and a hardcopy. Get yours today!"

The ebook edition is now available, but fear not--the trade paperback is in the works and will be ready in the next 2-3 weeks.  I'll let you know when it comes out.  But for now, if you've got an e reader you can find it for:

Kindle  ~  Nook  ~ and for all other ereaders at Smashwords.

We hope you enjoy meeting and eating with us and our characters!
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Guest Blogger Lillian Stewart Carl: May You Live In Interesting Times . . .

by guest blogger Lillian Stewart Carl

As old Chinese curses go, “May you live in interesting times” is less dire than some, even when you take “interesting” as a euphemism for “uncertain” or even “chaotic”.

The corollary that brings the curse home is, “May you live in interesting times—and have those times in your face 24/7.”

Recently I read a brief article (are there long, in-depth articles any more?) saying that younger people who’ve grown up with the multiple distractions of the electronic age are not as stressed by the constant look at me! over here! whiplash as older ones. Like me, for example. Heck, when I was a kid our television set got only two channels, both of which closed down at ten pm. (And I had to walk uphill both ways just to change channels.)

I’m not saying those days were better than these. In many significant ways, they weren’t. I’m saying I feel as though I’m now living in the Era of Attention Deficit. In the Age of En-lite-enment.

Exhibit A: Why do so many places I go have to have a television set mounted on the wall?

A sports bar, yes. People come there to watch the game with their friends. No problem—I can avoid sports bars. It’s the televisions in ordinary restaurants that annoy me. There you are, trying to have a pleasant lunch with your friends, while just above your head politicians foam at the mouth and disasters play out in excruciating slo-mo. Those televisions are like electronic swords of Damocles.

My hairdressing salon recently installed a television playing home, garden, and cooking shows, much better than one playing the news—or worse, opinion clothed as news. Still, it’s noise pollution. It’s that constant urgent movement in the corner of your eye.

And, so help me, doctor’s offices also have televisions. Your blood pressure might be just fine when you sit down in the waiting room, but it will be sky-high after half an hour bombarded with interesting times—all brought to you by companies whose commercials use every trick in the sound-and-light book to get your attention.

Over here! Look at me! Voices! Music! Bright moving colors!

And then there’s Exhibit B: When I do, on purpose, turn on the news, that’s what I want. I don’t want what seems like ten minutes of the anchors chatting and teasing: “Which dress did you like best at the Academy Awards?”Or “Oooh, here’s a tape of you in 1989! Look at that hairdo!” Recently our favorite local station featured an interminable segment in which the anchorwoman played video clips of her dog snoring.

Seriously.

It’s a relief to change the channel to PBS, which still believes in presenting information in a sober, non-confrontational fashion. (No, information does not equal wisdom. But that’s another issue.) I don’t know whether Gwen Ifill or Ray Saurez has a pet. It doesn’t matter whether they do or not. Their pets aren’t anchoring a news program. Neither do I want the anchors reading off to me the tweeted or Facebook’d opinions of viewers. I want professional presentation and knowledgeable analysis.
This brings me to Exhibit C:

Our local dead-tree newspaper is so marginalized these days that they’ve not only cut themselves back to little more than a pamphlet, they seem to have fired most of their writers and are now letting the remaining readers write the news for them.

We have one and sometimes two entire pages devoted to readers’ often knee-jerk reactions—not letters to the editor, but sound-bite tweets, “cheers and jeers”, and Facebook-style comments designed, I suppose, to appeal to those with the attention span of a two-year-old. Who aren’t reading the newspaper anyway.

I’m an adult, and I want to read news. Not “features” including large photos of lawn furniture or craft projects, seemingly included to fill space. A couple of years ago, so help me, the newspaper spent an entire week on “help Julie choose a prom dress”. This meant a full page every day with photos of Julie modeling a gown, or shoes, or flowers, so that readers could vote on which they liked best.

I repeat. Seriously?

I know, I know, it’s all hard economic reality. The newspaper is trying desperately to appeal to people who spend all day focused on their smart phones and tablets, picking up an image here, a few words there. The restaurants and offices are afraid if they don’t provide their patrons with moving images and chattering voices, they’ll go elsewhere. We live in an age when flash and charisma is more important than substance, because that’s what sells television shows, newspapers, music videos, apps—you name it.

My tai chi instructor tells me that sitting and meditating, or concentrating on the flowing motions of the form, is difficult because—as the old Chinese masters used to say—the human mind is like a monkey dancing on a hot griddle. It was probably those same old Chinese who uttered the “interesting times” curse.

Hey! Over here! Look at me!
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Lillian Stewart Carl has published multiple novels and multiple short stories in multiple genres, sometimes straight up mystery or fantasy, but usually blended, with nuts. Her most recent novel is The Mortsafe, set in Edinburgh. All her books can be found through Backlist eBooks.  And speaking of which, Lillian has a story (The Avalon Psalter) in the Backlist eBooks anthology Tales from the Backlist.

The Last of Christmas . . .

Last night, I took down the last of Christmas.

For the first time since we were able to furnish our HUGE combination living/family room, we put up a small part of our Snow Village display.  When we had no furniture, our Snow Village took up a big part of one wall.  However, about six years ago, we finally filled in all the gaping holes. (And don't ask why one home with only two people needs to have five living room spaces--PLEASE--just don't ask!)

I'd been meaning to put the village pieces away for weeks--nay, months--but time is a precious commodity around here.  Still, last night I felt that it was finally long past time.

The weather is great, so who wants to think about snow and Snow Village?  So, now we're back to our regular decorating mode and anticipating a long, hot summer.

And right about now, doesn't that sound WONDERFUL?
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And the beat goes on . . .

Did it ever seem to you that life is getting away from you because you do too much ...?

I had a few days off at the end of January and came home refreshed and raring to go.  No sooner had I returned when I was feeling pretty burned out. I'm still feeling pretty burned out and I'm not getting nearly enough written.  While I was gone, I wrote up a storm.  Since I got home ... not so much.

And now our garbage men have decided to change the time they pick up our trash.  They used to come at 3 pm.  Suddenly, they come before 7.  We didn't figure that out for TWO WEEKS.  That's a lot of trash piling up.

My energy efficient washing machine doesn't clean our clothes very well.  And although I use liquid detergent that's made for dark clothes, my dark clothes come out with white spots that look like undissolved powdered detergent.  I have to wash them over again and hope that the next time it's something else that comes out with the white spots.  I'm ready to trash this machine and buy a non-energy efficient machine just so I don't have to keep washing my clothes over and over again so I can actually wear them.

What are we supposed to do with finicky cats?  Since we lost our Bonnie back in November, we still put the same amount of wet cat food down for each kitty meal.  Why?  Because they won't eat something that sat in the fridge.  Most days they won't eat the fresh stuff, either.  All three show up, but at least two of them sniff the food and walk away.  It's insulting when you've gone to all that trouble to open the can, scrape out all the gravy (because that's all they really want anyway), put it in clean bowls, set it on the floor and then fill the water dishes (which they won't drink out of--they prefer the dripping bathroom sink).
The list goes on and on.

What's getting in the way of you enjoying life?
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It doesn't really taste like it looks . . .

Oh the mail I get ... I think that's a standard title for one of Lee Goldberg's regular topics on his blog, (which I read religiously).  He usually gets mail from someone asking for an outrageous favor (like, here I am a COMPLETE stranger--please drop everything and help me promote my book ... oh, yeah.  I got one of those last week, too), or a nasty fan (?) letter (I also got one of those last week).

The other day I got a note from a reader saying:  "In 'Sentenced to Death' Angelica makes puppodums in the microwave. I've never heard of these, but when I looked them up no one seems to make them in the microwave."

Well, I do!  Okay, the instructions say you're supposed to fry them in a skillet ... or something like that. Fuggetaboutit!  Who has time? And who wants to clean an oily skillet when God gave us microwaves to make our lives easier?
It took a couple of years of trial and error (hey, I've been busy writing books and stuff!), but I've now got it down to a science and I am happy to share my secret with the rest of the world. (Hold your applause until the end of this post.  Thank you.)

First of all, I had to experiment with the timing.  Too long and they burn to a crisp.  Not long enough and they're horrible.  And never try to cook a puppodoum in the microwave if you line your glass plate with paper towel.  Either that, or stand by with a fire extinguisher.

I found the best way to cook puppodums was on a Syracuse China plate.  (Any heavy duty restaurant plate will do, I just happen to collect their Americana pattern.)  I found this dinky plate, and it's brother, at a yard sale.  (Yeah, I could go to Replacements.com and buy the entire set for a gazillion dollars, but I prefer the thrill of the yard-sale hunt.)

Next up, preparing the puppodum.  I squirt mine with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray. (I used to use the garlic version, but because I liked it they discontinued it.  Product manufacturers always discontinue something the minute I decide to use it.  Good thing I don't buy Oreos, huh?)  You can use any cooking spray, like PAM, as well.  After three or four squirts, I use my finger and distribute the ICBINB to evenly coat the puppodum.  I place it on the little plate, and into the microwave it goes.




BTW, I have no idea what my microwave wattage is, and must admit I really don't care.  This microwave takes 45 seconds to cook the puppodum to perfection.  (It takes a lot less if you just toss it on the glass plate inside your microwave--about 20-22 seconds, but as I mentioned, sometimes they burn. The heavy china must distribute the heat better.  That's my story and I'm sticking with it.)  If this seems like a l-o-n-g time, you can do something else while you wait.  I like to drink a glass of skim milk when I eat curry, so usually my lunch is ready (today I'm thinking of having MTR alu muttar on rice) and too hot to eat anyway (did I mention I like my food PIPING HOT?), so 45 seconds is more than enough time to pour a glass of your favorite beverage.

The end result may look like a dinosaur scab, but it tastes just fine.  (If you like lental flatbread, that is.)



So there you have it:  puppodums cooked in the microwave.

(It's okay to applaud now.)

I love answering questions about my books and, quite honestly, rarely get them.  So if you've wondered about anything in the books--please, ask away.  (It's hard coming up with new ideas for blog posts.)

Devouring kisses & roast beef just do not mix ...

by guest blogger Phoebe Conn

When Lorraine requested pet peeves, I offered one she hadn't heard before.

I'm single and date whenever the opportunity appears.  I'd had dinner with a nice man and when we came back to my home, he gave me one of those tonsil-tickling kisses that made me want to shriek the way Lucy does when Snoopy licks her check.  Some men have absolutely no idea how to kiss a woman.  They dive for it like a sailor who's spent the last year in a submarine under a polar ice cap.  Makes me want to puke!  Fortunately, I have a strong stomach.

The gentleman in question had eaten a roast beef sandwich for dinner.  I can feel your shuddering from here. Yes, the flavor of that sandwich added immeasurably to the sheer awfulness of that devouring kiss.  Being a lady, I smiled rather than grimace, and asked him to slow down a bit.  He looked confused, soon left, and, thank goodness, I've not heard from him since.

I much prefer a man who gives slow teasing kisses that build from a tender touch to the volcanic.  I should have sent my date a copy of one of my books where the heroes all know how to kiss like they mean it without the revolting tongue jab.

Excuse me, I need to go check my messages, someone interesting may have called.
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Romance author Phoebe Conn has over thirty books to her credit.  Her latest Fierce Love will be available on May 22nd. In the meantime, why not sample one of Phoebe's short stories, PLAYING FOR KEEPS, in the Backlist eBooks anthology, Tales from the Backlist: Select Stories from Backlist eBooks Authors. (It's on sale for a limited time for just 99 cents.  P.S.  My short Jeff Resnick story, COLD CASE, is also included in the anthology.)

My movie dilemma . . .

They're the gifts you give when you don't know what to give:  Money and/or gift cards.

Right now, I've got a couple of Amazon gift cards sitting there and I haven't decided what to do with them.  Or rather, I've decided that I should buy some movies, but I'm not sure what.

I got to see about half an hour of Pay It Forward over the weekend, and I was intrigued enough that I'd like to see it again, so that's a given. (I like uplifting movies.)

When the movie was new, I thought about going to see Up, but never got around to it.  It stars the voice of Edward Asner. I met Mr. Asner's sister in January, and since then I've thought ... I should buy that DVD. (Although what one has to do wit the other ... is anyone's guess.)

I'm fascinated with time-travel stories
(hmmm...it's a wonder I haven't read any time travel romances--there seem to be a lot of them around), and it's been years since I've seen The Final Countdown, so that's on the list, too.

I've thought about buying Ladyhawke, since I seem to be collecting DVDs of the work of director Richard Donner, but I'm not sure.  (If you've seen it, what did you think?)

I figure I've got enough Amazon $$$ left for two more movies.  I usually prefer comedies, but as you can see, I've got two (almost three) dramas on my wish list.

What older movies have you seen that you love ... that you think I'd love, too?
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Enough to make you grind your teeth

By guest blogger E.J. Copperman

A car commercial aired during the Oscar telecast Sunday night that just got on my nerves. What better forum to discuss it than in my dear friend Lorraine’s Pet Peeve Thursday?

This particular ad, directed by the filmmaker Wes Anderson (who has made a lot of films I didn’t especially like, either), depicts a suburban dad doing his very best—which isn’t very good—to make dinner while getting instructions via the phone from his wife, who makes a comment about the “bumper-to-bumper” traffic. Around this poor schlemiel, some strange pudding-type substance is erupting on a table, children are rushing around trying to help, refrigerator magnets are dropping off like dead flies and a small child is eating frozen french fries. That are still frozen.

The beaten-down yutz whines to his wife, “Just hurry. Please.” She, meanwhile, is out in the driveway of their home, luxuriating in the automobile in question, whose manufacturer shall remain nameless (Hyundai), while Jeff Bridges’s voice asks, “Did we make it too comfortable?”

Stick it in your ear, Jeff.

While first of all trying to sell us on the idea that a car so fabulous (and made in the Korea we like) is an excuse to ditch your spouse and ignore your children, the commercial demeans women. By suggesting—as so many such ads do—that men are incapable of keeping a household from falling to pieces on their own, it blatantly insults the male gender.

I’m not a big fan of generalization. I bristle whenever someone starts a sentence with, “Women all…” or “You know, men always…”. People are individuals. This is the gender equivalent of an ethnic joke, and we know how much good THOSE do.

Still, here’s one that I think is funny, because it really doesn’t demean anyone:

http://www.jumbojoke.com/the_worst_ethnic_joke_ever_told.html

I’m just saying: The next time you see a depiction of a man who can’t put together a pasta dinner without instructions from his wife, or a woman who simply couldn’t manage to get the garbage taken out without some brawny guy to help, consider that many of the world’s greatest chefs are men and there are female Marines who can kick your butt from here to Iwo Jima.

Don’t accept such views. Don’t ignore them. But do notice them, and complain. Because that’s how you get stuff to stop.
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E.J. Copperman is the author of the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series, recently continued with OLD HAUNTS. You can find out more about E.J.—whose last name is NOT “Cooperman”—at www.ejcopperman.com

Well, I'll be Skyped!

A couple of months ago, a librarian asked me to talk to her library group about the Booktown Mysteries.  The only thing was, they were out of state.  What's a person to do?

Skype!

For several years, I've offered to talk to reader groups via Skype, and no one has taken me up on it.  I kind of forgot about it, so it was a bit of a shock when I got approached to talk to the group in February.  The day they were meeting, I was scheduled to be out of town.  I didn't want to take a chance on iffy Internet connections, so we rescheduled for this week.

This week is here.

I didn't have Skype, either.

I do now.  And thanks to my pals, Ellery Adams and Julie Hyzy, I tested it and had two very nice long-distance discussions, and I got to see my friends, who I haven't seen since last April.  Weeee!  This is fun!
Now the real test comes on Friday when I fire up my laptop and talk to that library group.  Gulp!  I'm off to go get beautiful!

Do you use Skype or a service like it?

Hauntingly similar, eh?

Hauled out the suitcase ... getting ready for my trip to Charlottesville, Virginia next month and the Virginia Festival of the Book.  Uh-oh ... who (what?) does my suitcase remind me of?

My book on the Silver Screen? Could it ever really happen?

Okay, I did NOT see any of the films in this year's Oscar race.  Not one.  I heard about all of them.  I saw clips on all of them (even three of the short features), but time to go to the movies?  Fuggetaboutit! I didn't even get to see the last Harry Potter on the big screen.  I was busy writing. (The last movie I went to see was The King's Speech.  It was good!)

But last night I had a bit of a fun time on Facebook.  I posted that I thought it would be cool if one of my books made it to the movies, and I picked Murder on The Mind, the first Jeff Resnick book.  One of my readers suggested one of the Booktowns would make a good movie, but while my readers might be happy, the coveted 18-49 male demographic would never tear themselves away from their video games and Youtube to make it to the theater.  (But they'd probably do really well on TV. How about the Hallmark Channel?)

Someone suggested that Bradley Cooper play Jeff Resnick, the hero of Murder On The Mind (and the rest of the series).  I must confess, I never even heard of Bradley Cooper. (Writers don't get out that much.  I mean, I make it to the grocery store once a week, and that's about it.)  I looked him up on Google images and -- hot damn, he's good looking.  He's got mesmerizing blue eyes.  Jeff has muddy brown eyes.  I think I could overlook that tiny imperfection in the actor.

I've always thought that Phillip Seymour Hoffman would be terrific as Richard.  (He'd have to dye his hair brown -- but actors do that a lot.  Maybe he could lose a few pounds, too.  (Couldn't we all--or at least a bunch of us--do with that, too?) The fact that Mr. Hoffman is a Rochester, NY Native (okay, Pittsford--let's not quibble) would make it even better!

From the first time I saw Jennifer Hudson (and I don't even remember where that was), I thought she'd make a terrific Brenda.  (She doesn't have to sing for the role!)  Can't you just picture her bossing Richard and Jeff around?

I haven't given much thought as to who could play Maggie.  When I picture her as I'm writing the character, it's Gates McFadden I see, but she's too old for the part now.  Still, 15 years ago, she would have made a fabulous Maggie.

Is there a chance in hell this book would be made into a movie?  Well, a production company did request a copy -- but they never optioned it.  (I have a friend who's had a book optioned.  So far ... no movie.  But they keep renewing the option, so there is hope.)  Of course if you know someone at a production company, hey--mention Jeff's name, willya?

So, what do you think about my casting?  Disagree?  Who do you see playing the major roles?
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The first signs of spring . . .

The other day it snowed overnight.  (Is that an oxymoron?  Anyway, it did.)  The snow was the wet, heavy spring type snow.  And it melted by lunchtime.

The daffodils are up by several inches.  Now we're waiting for the snowdrops.

It's been a mild winter, but it's still winter.  I'm ready for warm weather.  Zephyr breezes.  Planting my snow peas (and I'll do it on time, this year).

I'm ready for spring.  How about you?

Scared of crossing genre lines?

by guest blogger Kelly McClymer

I started reading with Dick and Jane. Kids today have many more colorful options, but Dick and Jane gave a big advantage to this budding book lover: they made everything else I ever read seem interesting and fun. I felt there was no boundary too far to run from Dick and Jane. And Spot. Mars? Sounds like a grand time. A little house on the prairie? I’m there. A windswept Prince Edward Island in the early 1900s? Sign me up. Narnia, or a time warp? Oh yeah.

Which brings me to my pet peeve (thanks, Lorraine, for letting me vent today): people who are afraid to cross genre lines. They make seemingly reasonable statements like, “I only read cozies.” Or romance. Or thrillers. Or Oprah picks. Or more inflammatory statements like, “Romance is brain fluff.” or “Science fiction is about ideas and I like books about people.” In some quarters, them’s fighting words.

Sometimes I wonder if I may have been afraid to cross genre lines at some point if my parents had not bemusedly encouraged my vacuum-cleaner-like book choices (start at the beginning of one library shelf, and work my way across, down to the next shelf, and the next, and the …). That kind of reading history inoculated me from believing any common genre prejudice.

Science fiction is not about people? Of course it is. I knew that because I ran across John Brunner’s classic The Sheep Look Up on my uncle’s living room end table when I was 12. That book is all about people, and science (and how corporate greed is toxic to the people – and it was written in the 70s).
Romance is brain fluff? Snort. I’ve been married for over 3 decades, and there’s many a romance (and a few science fiction, mystery, thrillers and fantasies) that’s helped me through the minefield of the romantic relationship many a time – and entertained me along the way.

Fiction gives me insight into human beings (even when they’re disguised as robots or vampires). I need that insight, because – as I discovered while raising a son on the autism spectrum – I’m really not good at picking up people clues in the real world.

I’m proud to say I’ve never met a genre line I was afraid to cross. Some I like more than others, but every genre out there offers me some new perspective on people, life, living, and myself.

Which brings me to my secondary pet peeve: publishers’ fear of genre mixing in anthologies. When you find an anthology, it usually has similar genre stories (maybe a publisher will be daring and mix in some romantic mystery, history, suspense…maybe). But usually they stick stories into same genre boxes.

At Backlist Ebooks, we thought outside the genre box for our anthology of backlist tales. Our stories cross all the lines: mystery, suspense, science fiction, fantasy, contemporary, horror, you name it. After all, our authors have backlists in multiple genres. Many of our individual authors cross genre lines within their own backlist. I write historical romance, science fiction, YA (fantasy and contemporary humor), and whatever else strikes my fancy.

This anthology, Tales From the Backlist, is a work of hope by the members of Backlist Ebooks. We want to support our fledgling backlist author platform. And we hope that readers may dare to cross a genre line or two and find a new genre playground or two that satisfies the reading itch. Take a chance and cross the genre line with our short stories. I dare ya.
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Kelly McClymer has one foot in traditional publishing, with her YA series The Salem Witch Tryouts, and one foot in the indie publishing world, with her backlist Once Upon a Wedding historical romance series. To scramble things up further, her Tales from the Backlist story "Diapers, DIshes, and Demons" is a literary fantasy about a woman for whom post-partum depression is a very real -- and annoying -- demon. You can find Kelly at her website http://kellymcclymer.com, on Twitter, and on Facebook.

 (P.S. Lorraine has a story in Tales from the Backlist, too.  It's my Jeff Resnick story, COLD CASE.)
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