What I Did For Love

A lot of authors have been finding new life for their older works.  It may be a surprise to some to find out that my first professional sales were to confession magazines.  True Love in particular.  I had a real hot streak where I sold six stories bam, bam, bam!  And then . . . nothing.  I don't know if they got a new editor or just had bought too many, but I decided to concentrate on writing cozy mysteries for a while and . . . well, the rest is history.

That new life I was speaking of is through Amazon's Kindle, and other reading devices (via Smashwords). What I'm wondering is if my readers would be interested in reading these little slices of life.  No, they're not mysteries, and they're not romances.  They're ... rather sad stories, but all have happy endings.

To test the waters, why don't you try one of my stories for free.  It's on my website and you can download a PDF of "What I Did For Love."  Click here.

My question:  do you think Lorraine's and Lorna's readers would like to read these kinds of stories?  Would you be willing to pay up to 99 cents for such a story?

Thanks.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

The little snow peas seed packet said germination in 8-12 days.  Yup, on Day 11 the snow peas sprouted.

I didn't bother to take a picture because they're just tiny nubs at this point.  But hopefully in 72 days we'll be harvesting the little beauties and sauteing them with mushrooms.  (And I will NOT crowd the mushrooms!)

I thought they might have sprouted sooner.  Old trick of the trade:  soak your seeds for 24 hours before you plant them.  This softens them up, and encourages them to sprout sooner.  Well, these seeds said, "Forgot it, baby--we're not sprouting until we're good and ready!"  And they didn't.

It's always so satisfying to plant something and see it grow, and even better--be able to eventually eat it.  Of course, that is if Mr. Bunny, Mr. Groundhog, or a herd of deer don't get there first.  I've taken the precaution of liberally sprinkling dried blood around the snow peas and hope it discourages the local fauna.

I have leek seeds, which I should have started before this.  Poppy seeds, too.  (Last summer I deadheaded a gorgeous pink poppy at a local church.  Shhhhhhh!  Don't tell.)

And what will your garden grow this year?

Arachnophobia and Me

I know spiders are good.  They eat bad stuff in your garden and home.  But they could live LONG and HAPPY LIVES if they stayed away from me.

Spring and fall are the worst for these icky creatures.  They're either coming inside to stay warm, or coming out of the cracks on their way outside to find food after a long winter's nap.  (Except for the ones that show up in my kitchen, bedroom or office, who are immediately squished.)

If I'm outside, I usually let the spiders live.  (If they jump at me while I'm not wearing gardening gloves and working in the dirt, die sucker!)  There've been spider nests in my big rural mailbox for years.  I've turned a blind eye to them because I've never actually seen a spider in the mailbox.

Until last week.

Ooooooh! *Shudder*  This not-so-little guy was one of those squishy black ones that RUNVERYFAST!!!  When I'd open the box, he'd jump into the back seam.  I did not like the fact that he was there.  I really, REALLY did not like the fact that he was there, but figured if he stayed away from my mail AND ME, he might live.

But yesterday, I got a HUGE amount of mail and packages.  The entire big mailbox was stuffed full.  And when I took everything out, there was Mr. Icky Spider.  And he didn't run very fast.  There, on the street, I whipped off my shoe and beat him to death.

Now, usually, killing a spider doesn't bother me.  But, as I said, if they live outside, they can live long and happy lives.  This spider wasn't in my house, and he'd probably survived out there in the mailbox all winter long.  And I killed him.

Gulp.

Now I'm annoyed that I feel so guilty for killing him (or her).

And what's bugging YOU today?

Losing an old and trusted pal . . .

Yesterday I lost a trusted friend of almost 29 years.  We'd been together through thick and thin.  In sickness and in health.  Through good times and bad.

Yesterday, my multi-speed Waring hand mixer died.

And, of course, it died in the line of duty.  It was hubby's birthday.  He prefers pie to cake, and his favorite:  lemon meringue.  I was whipping up the egg whites and my kitchen buddy suddenly died.  The pie turned out okay, perhaps out of respect for my old mixer, but the meringue didn't stand as tall as it might have if the old Waring had lived just a minute or two longer.

I knew it wasn't well.  Oh, it hadn't been coughing up blood or anything like that, but for the past couple of months, it would only give me two of its six speeds, and I would have to mess with the speed control before it would start.

Before the poor thing even had an indecent burial, hubby was on the Internet searching for its replacement.  (You see, he's quite fond of Dr. Oetker's Mousse Supreme which must be beaten for nearly five minutes.  I think that's what might have killed the Waring...all those Mousse Supremes we've had this year--the light version, to avoid excess calories.)

I loved that mixer.  My brother gave it to me when I moved into my first house. (As I've mentioned in the past, he's given me most of my small kitchen appliances.)  Now I live in fear that the toaster oven and electric fry pan of the same vintage may soon kick the bucket.  My Waring hand mixer even lived in the box it came in from the factory all those years ago.  And, of course, you can't buy Waring hand mixers anymore.  Now Waring concentrates on bar blenders.

I'll get a new hand mixer, but it won't be the same.  In these days of planned obsolescence, a new mixer will probably live a couple of years and go on to that great appliance store in the sky.

But please, let's have a moment of silence for my late, great, Waring hand mixer.

( ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...)

Thank you.

Are you inordinately attached to any of your kitchen appliances?

Start with a roux ...

It's rare that a movie makes a big impression on me.  But Julie & Julia did.  At first, I was attracted to it because it was about two very different writers in two very different times, and the struggle to get published.  But later on, it became about the food.

The later on part started in January.  I got the DVD for Christmas (thank you, Bro!), and have watched it at least six or seven times since then.  The first thing I did that came from the movie:  I didn't crowd the mushrooms.  Yum!  Instead of limp, wet fungus, I had delicious, nutty-tasting mushrooms.  Double-Yum!

Like Julie Powell, my mother has a copy of Mastering The Art of French Cooking.  I haven't stolen her copy yet, but it's been on my mind.  Somewhere in the past I looked at it, but I like cookbooks with lots of photographs.  That is, until I started getting into older cookbooks because of my character Angelica and her cookbook store, The Cookery.  Then I started reading recipes from old cookbooks--for fun!  (I blogged about it last summer, but I'm too lazy to go back and find it.  Sorry.)

A little while ago, I decided to make chicken pot pie.  I LOVE chicken pot pie, but my attempts in the past have always been . . . not satisfactory.  I glanced at my pot pie cookbook (which I've had for YEARS) and noticed that some of the recipes started by making a roux.
Let me tell you, I do NOT have the patience to stir flour and oil (or butter) for any length of time.  One recipe for gumbo that I made earlier this year insisted that you stir it for at LEAST an hour.  Uh-uh!  But I wanted this chicken pot pie to be different, so I managed to stir it for almost ten minutes before I got totally fed up.

Guess what.  The pot pie was a great success, mostly due to the gravy.

Hurray!

I've never been a very good cook, and that's probably because of my lack of patience.  I think I may have to try a little harder and slow down when I'm cooking.

Do you prefer to linger over cooking, or do you mostly just cook to get food on the table?

D-Day for Bon-Bon

It's been weeks since we arranged for our little Bonnie (and I mean little--the poor cat has lost a LOT of weight) to have her thyroid condition cured (there's a 95-98% cure rate) with a radioactive shot.  It seemed like the procedure was eons in the future, and now suddenly the actual day is here.

I feel AWFUL.  Let's face it, cats have a brain the size of a large pecan.  Bonnie will NOT know why she's suddenly in a place filled with cages and other animals, smelling terrible "hospital" type smells, hearing loud noises, and be manhandled (she has to have an ultrasound) by people she doesn't know.  And worse, WORSE, we'll be abandoning her for up to TEN DAYS.

Add to that, we cannot visit her, because she'll be radioactive, and nothing that goes with her can come back to us.

We've got her supplies all packed; food and snacks.  The carrier is in the laundry room ready to go.

Hubby keeps saying, "it's only ten days."  He sure didn't feel that way when he was stuck in the hospital for 48 hours after knee surgery.  He kept saying, "lemme outta here!"

I'm sure the week will go faster for us than it will for Bonnie.  But just thinking about her stuck in a cage in a strange place makes me feel terribly guilty and sad.  Who will sit next to me in the evenings?  Who will greet me from the bathroom vanity where she likes to plop during the night?

The things we do for love, eh?

The word is PARANORMAL

by E.J. Copperman

Don't get me wrong: I'm EXTREMELY excited that my first novel, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED, which begins the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series, will be published in June by Berkley Prime Crime. I'm ecstatic that people will get to read the story of Alison Kerby, who buys a great big Victorian on the Jersey Shore, and renovates it to serve as a guesthouse that will hopefully help Alison, a single mother, keep a non-leaky roof over her nine-year-old daughter's head. And I can't wait to see what you think about Paul and Maxie, the ghosts who reside in Alison's new house, when they insist she find out who murdered them. All that is wonderful. I have no complaint with it.

But is it REALLY necessary to categorize the book as "woo-woo?"

Seriously. How can anyone take a book seriously (even one that's meant to be tons of fun, like NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED) when it's stuck with a moniker like that ahead of time? Is that fair, to saddle a story that took me months to write with a silly-sounding category like "woo-woo?"

Do we call thrillers "bang-crunches?" Are hardboiled mysteries known as "boom-booms?" Do we call the supposed literary novels "mope-and-gropes?"

I don't think so.

Even cozies, a much-maligned mystery genre stuck with a dopey name, at least get a word that comes from an adjective. It's descriptive, if not dignified. But "woo-woo?" Is that supposed to be some sort of onomatopoeic device recalling the sounds of ghosts in haunted houses? I don't want to spoil it for you, but I can assure you that nobody in NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED ever says "woo-woo." That sounds more like the kind of noise Daffy Duck would make if confronted with an attractive female mallard.

We need to come up with a better word for this sub-genre. Something that has a little class. Something like "paranormal."

Or has that been used already?

By the way, please check out my blog at http://itsthegreatestthing.blogspot.com/ to get details on the contest that might win you an Advanced Reader Copy of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED! I'm really anxious to see what you think!
===============================
E.J. Copperman is the author of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED, the first of the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series, due June 1 from Berkley Prime Crime.  E.J. is also a fan of Casper, the Friendly Ghost.  Can we get a "woo-woo!" for that?!

Puppy Power

Yesterday, I was working on a scene for the new book.  (Sentenced to Death.)  In this book, one of the characters has a cute little dog.  It's a bison-friche named Sarge.  Sarge is very protective of his owner.  He thinks he's a Doberman.

Sarge doesn't have much to do in his second scene, mostly because . . . he isn't in it.  It gets complicated and I don't want to give any spoilers away.

I'm a cat person.  I'd like to be a dog person, but circumstances have never allowed that.  I grew up having cats, but when I was 16, my parents got their first dog, Mac, a Scottish terrier.  They've had terriers ever since.  (Jessie is the most current.  Isn't she cute?)

But even Jessie is too big to play the part of Sarge.  Instead, I decided my cousin Joanne's dog, Leisha, was just about the right size.  (This is Leisha this past Thanksgiving.  She was sitting on her Gramma's lap, and I don't think she felt too comfortable up there.  She's much cuter with her ears up.)

I've been thinking of Leisha (and I'm not even sure of the spelling) for some time now.  She's so cute, and while I don't see her very often, she's wormed her way into my heart.  Or, rather, a fictional version of her has. ever since I wrote Bookplate Special.  So I'm not surprised that Sarge has shown up in Sentenced to Death.

So, yesterday, I was thinking about Sarge's next scene.  I needed some dog information and whipped off a couple of emails to my author friends Doranna Durgin, who has dogs, and Sandra Parshall, writes a veterinary mystery series.  I knew they'd have the answers I needed.  But while I waited to hear from them, I went to Google Images and found this picture and posted it on Facebook.

Whoa!  I cannot believe the amount of interest little Sarge (or a generic Bison-Friche) could muster.  In all there were 41 comments (and, yes, I made a few of them).  One thing's for sure, Sarge is going to be a BIG hit.  Not only do my readers already love little Sarge, but they had suggestions on how I should integrate him into the story--a story they have no information on (plot wise).

How cool is that?

Needless to say, I think I'm going to have some fun with Sarge in the future.

So, what do YOU think of him so far?

Doesn't everyone want knee replacement surgery?

If there's one thing I don't like doing, it's cleaning.  (That's why we have The Merry Maids come in every couple of weeks to keep the place from falling apart. Although...I wish they'd dust the blinds in the bathroom.)

Anyway, I've never been one to engage in the whole Spring Cleaning Ritual.  What for?  But when the cases of Dead In Red arrived a week or so ago, I decided that I was fed up with an office that looked like a warehouse.  The solution is to get rid of some stuff--or store it someplace else.  I've also got a treadmill in the enclosed porch.  I got it, thinking I could use it in cold weather.  Not such a good idea when it's below zero and your lungs are screaming--STOP ALREADY.  Where to put it and all the other stuff cluttering up my office?  The basement, of course.

The problem?  Hubby is a cartrographer.  He's got over 60 cases of obsolete product down in the basement.  Perfect place for ME to store boxes and boxes of books and assorted office supplies.

The other problem?  Hubby has two replacement knees.  He's never going to carry anything heavy ever again.  Each case of maps weighs at least 25 lbs. and there're 12 steps from the bottom of the basement to the kitchen.  There's only one of me, and how much can you put out in the recycle box every week?

I'm pushing the limit with four cases a week.  So far, they haven't refused all that paper, and since February I've moved at least 20 cases of obsolete product.  And yes, there are STILL at least 60 cases to go. 
But there's more than just maps ready to go.  Computer monitors.  We had three.  Not any more.  We both save way too many magazines, and Hubby has decided that his collection of National Geographic can at last go.  All six hundred thousand, five hundred and forty six of them.  (Guess who'll get to cart them up from the basement?)  No wonder our movers (17 years ago) hated our guts.  (And we've accumulated a LOT more books and magazines since then.)

But honestly, what are we saving all this for?

Meanwhile, I just hope MY knees hold out, cuz I sure don't want a full knee replacement.

How goes your spring cleaning?

Surprises in the Mailbox

I've mentioned before how I don't want Saturday mail delivery to be suspended.  Every trip to the mailbox could mean a surprise, whether it's the latest Victoria Magazine (or Tea Time, or Romantic Homes, or Celebrate!) or a royalty check.  (Which, believe me, doesn't happen often enough.)

The other day I went to my mailbox to find a HUGE envelope from my friend (and fellow author) Jennifer Stanley.  Jenn was sending me more of her bookmarks, which I distribute for the Cozy Chicks.  (Haven't seen our offer?  Go here.)

I was thrilled to open the envelope and find a box of Barbie petite note cards.  I've known Jenn for just about a year now, and not only did she know I like Barbie, but that I LOVE note cards.  (I send out a lot of them.)  Ya know, she could've been a detective!

The cards are darling, and come in four designs -- vintage Barbie, not unlike the new cover for the large print of edition of Bookplate Special, which will be released on April 16th.

And speaking of the large print edition of Bookplate Special -- I'm sending out postcards to libraries.  If you'd like me to send one to YOUR library, just leave a comment and tell me the name of the library and the city it's in (I'll look up the address).

Thanks.  (And thanks again, Jenn!)

The other kind of brain candy

I don't know about you, but my to-be-read pile seems to grow by the minute.  (Or maybe it's breeding.  Well, we're approaching Easter, famous for rabbits ... and you know what they say ....)

I have a load of wonderful cozy reads sitting there gathering dust.  I'm eager to dive into Julie Hyzy's latest (Eggsecutive Orders) and Jenn McKinlay's first Cupcake Bakery mystery (Sprinkle with Murder), but I don't like to read fiction while I'm furiously at work on my own writing.  (Can you say "beach reads" -- or in my case, "cottage reads?")

That's why I either read old favorites, or non-fiction. 

I was quite taken with the movie Julie and Julia.  I saw it at the theater and asked for and got it on DVD for Christmas.  I think I've now seen it about seven times. (When I like something, I like it a LOT!)  So it was a no-brainer when I hit the bookstore the other day to grab a copy of Julia Child's "My Life In France," which half of the movie was based on.

I'm about a quarter of the way through the book and I love it.  Maybe it's because I love food (which isn't hard to tell if you've seen me in person). But her intimate portrait of the Paris she knew in the late 1940s sounds wonderful (if not a little chilly in winter).  And her husband, Paul, who definitely stood in her shadow during the last half of their lives together, was a gifted photographer.  It's wonderful to see his photographs that chronicled where they went and what they did--and with whom.

I'm looking forward to getting lost in some of my friends' cozy mysteries, but right now, I'm enjoying this real slice of Julia Child's Life.

What was the last piece of non-fiction you read?

Drawing a Blank

One of the reasons I love to have guests for Pet Peeve Thursdays is . . . I'm running out of peeves.  I'm not saying my life is all peaches and cream, because I certainly think we should have had that new chest freezer installed in the garage by now (ahem), and Lord knows waiting six months between paychecks (that's the publishing way) makes life hard in just about every respect . . . but aside from those two things, the top item on my agenda is finishing the current book.

It is not going well.

I'm halfway through it, according to word count, but I'm much closer to the end of the story than I need to be at this point.  And I"ll be sitting at my computer for hours trying to think of what should happen next, and am drawing a blank.

But I have a partial solution.  Yesterday I went out to the driveway, got in my car, picked up a pencil and pad and suddenly the ideas started to flow again.
What's with that?

Mind you, this is not a new solution to the old writers block trick.  I've done this hundreds of times over the years, only then I was waiting for someone at a doctor's appointment, or some other errand they were running but needed transportation.  So even though I was just sitting there looking at my garage door, the ideas started coming.  Within fifteen minutes, I'd managed to scribble down 500 words.  (That after sitting in front of my laptop for an hour with NOTHING.)

No doubt about it, I'm hitting the driver's seat this morning with pen in hand.

And what's bugging YOU today?

Yea! Readers want to read my book!

Oh, Wow--after yesterday's post SEVEN people want to read Dead in Red.  I know that's not earth shattering for you, but when my last royalty statement came, it said only three copies had been sold in six months.  (Do I believe it?  Not for a minute--but getting answers from a publisher is like getting your cat to read Dr. Suess--aloud!)

Anyway, now seven people will be reading (and I hope sharing) the book with friends. 

Meanwhile, I've entered a whole new world of processing orders and shipping via Paypal.  Like why is my shipping address (my P.O. Box) invalid?  Why don't they like addresses with more than three lines?  Some people haven't asked me to personalize the book.  They're first editions -- might they be worth something some day and worth more money if they aren't personalized?

Hmm.  A whole new world awaits.

Meanwhile, back to the stack of books heading out to the far-flung reaches of Hawaii, Michigan, Canada, and the UK.  Wow--this is fun!

(Did you want to order a copy of the book?  Find it here.)

A sad day for me . . .

One of the saddest days in an author's life is the day her book goes out of print.  For my first book, MURDER ON THE MIND, that day came shockingly fast--ten months after publication.  In retrospect, it shouldn't have come as a surprise.  The book had a lousy cover; it went out too late for Big Four reviews; the price tag of $26 was too high for an unknown author, and though I spent a ton of money and wrote to over 400 libraries begging--er, asking them to buy the book, and that warranted a 100 copy reprint, it wasn't enough. 

Luckily, that novel found a much happier second life as a book club edition from Harlequin's Worldwide Library imprint.  It was given a nice cover, and Instead of a print run in the hundreds, it had a print run of about 21,000.  Not too shabby, and probably equal to or greater than it would have had as a paperback original. 
After 18 months, the rights reverted back to me and the book is now available as a Kindle download and on audio as a CD and an MP3 download.  There's a possibility it'll be available again as a trade paperback later this year. 

Dead In Red, the second Jeff Resnick book, came out in June 2008 with a dynamite cover, great reviews, and once again a killer price of $26.  Okay, if you're John Grisham, Stephen King, or Patricia Cornwell, people will cough up that kind of money for a hardcover (and there's a good chance the chain bookstores will discount them up to 40%--hey, you ever hear of a loss leader before?), but that doesn't happen with a small press book.

The book did not have a second life as a paperback.  (Harlequin said, "Sorry, we don't like this subplot.")  There are legal reasons why I haven't yet offered it as a Kindle download.  The consequence?  Far fewer people have read this book than the first.

I was told in February that Dead In Red would be going out of print in March.  This was not a surprise, as Baker & Taylor, one of the biggest book distributor's in the country, has not listed it since last August.  (I asked B&T why and they said it was the publisher's fault.  I asked the publisher, and they said it was B&T's fault.)  Last fall I actually BEGGED the publisher to list the book as out of print, because then I could start the countdown until the rights reverted to me.  (We're talking September 2011 at this point.)  In late February, the publisher offered to sell me the remaining copies of the book still littering their warehouse.  I jumped at the chance.

What does this mean for readers?  They can now get a signed copy of the book for substantially less than the publisher (and even Amazon) was selling it.  Who's making it available?  ME!  I've got a paypal link on my web site and am offering the book at three price points:  $14 Media Mail; $16 Priority Mail, and $20 International.  


Do I think I'm going to make money at this?  Hardly.  But I would like to see the book find eager readers, and I'm hoping that the substantially reduced price will help.

What's the future of the series?  Despite the fact I have two more books sitting on the shelf, and ideas for at least another two books, there are several reasons not to publish them at this time.  I don't happen to agree with them . . . but wiser folks than me have advised me to sit on them for at least another couple of years.  Patience has never been my strong suit, so I find this extremely difficult to do . . . but, honestly, could I juggle the promotion for three series?  Right now, with my limited resources, the answer is a loud NO!  So, I wait.

In the meantime, would you consider buying/reading Dead in Red?

The Power of Post-It Notes

I think one of the best inventions of the 20th Century was the Post-It note.  Has to be, they're all over my house to remind me of stuff I can't remember on my own.

I have four of them on my keyboard right now.

COUNTS:  As I mentioned last week, I'm going to send out postcards for the large-print edition of Bookplate Special.  I went on WorldCat (which tracks books in libraries) and found out where all the large-print editions of Murder Is Binding and Bookplate Special are.  I had some notion that I'd figure out what libraries had one, but not the other, and target them.  Whoa!  Turns out there were 158, and narrowing it down was a lot harder than I thought because not all the library systems had live links.  *Sigh*

ORDER POLAR BEAR STAMPS:  You got it.  When the postcards arrive, I'm going to have to mail them out, and mailing them out means stamps.  I ordered the 28 cent stamps and they'll arrive later this week.  Guess I can toss that note out now.

LAUNDRY:  This note is actually a couple of weeks old.  It could stay there forever, if the stickiness holds.  I mean, are you ever really done with laundry?

PAGE NUMBERS:  I had to print out the labels for the post cards, but I have a memory like a sieve.  I didn't now how many labels were still on the roll, so I'd do them in blocks of 25.  1-25; 26-50; 51-75, etc.  Guess that one can go, too.  (My the keyboard is getting tidier as I write this.)


There are currently ten Post-It notes and 6 other notes attached to the sides of my flat-screen monitor (Oh, and one business card.)  One has nothing but the ISBNs for a bunch (not all) of my books. (Need to update that one.)  I have passwords, character names, spellings of words I always get wrong, and even a little note that says "I heart (the symbol) you" from my hubby.  (That's a keeper!)

No doubt about it, I couldn't live without Post-It notes.  How about you?

Like a bolt from the blue

Like a strike of lightning hitting me, I realized this week that I'm addicted to promotion. I love it! Okay, not the traveling bit. I'm just not happy sleeping in a bed that's not my own, but I do like the nit-picky stuff that goes with promotion.


Take yesterday, for instance. Out of the blue, I wondered if I should do a library mailing for my upcoming large-print release. I have to tell you, if Mary Fairchild hadn't written to the publisher and complained about the original cover, this would not have happened. But the cover was changed, and it's cute and fun and I found myself at the old keyboard putting together a postcard and ordering it. It was a real pain in the butt when it came to the backside, and I had to fiddle with it for at least 45 minutes, but in the end, it came out the way I wanted and I hit the send button.

(I also printed out hundreds of address labels for when the postcards come.)

Also, yesterday, I made up my mind that I'm going to order some Haven't Got a Clue coffee mugs. Since I don't drink coffee, I'll just have to drink my morning cup of tea out of it. I think it'll be fun. (And I'm going to give one away in the charity basket I'm making for the Malice Domestic conference next month.)

It shouldn't surprise me that I enjoy packaging up bookmarks and printing labels.  The jobs I've enjoyed the most over the years included a lot of nit-picky work.  There's a certain satisfaction felt at the end of the day when you can look at something and say, "look what you accomplished."

Ever feel that way?

Back to Square One?

Even though I won't have the cover for my first Victoria Square book for another three, four (five?) months, I've got a conference to go to at the end of April (Malice Domestic, in case anyone wondered).  I'd like to be able to hand something out to people that says, "Be on the lookout for . . ."

Therefore, I've been working on a bookmark to hand out.

I love this aspect of promotion.  And in this instance, I came up with everything:  the concept, the wording, the placement.  What fun to bully ... er, suggest to my art director ... everything about the project.

All I needed before going to print was the ISBN.  But I also wanted to talk to my editor about another promotional idea I had, so I sent him an email with the bookmark jpg attached.
I was quite surprised when within an hour of hitting send he was on the phone:  How attached was I to the title of the book?

This question never bodes well.

I told him I wasn't married to it.  That is, I could live with a change.  After all, this wasn't my first choice of a title.  In fact, I think it's at least the third (possibly fourth?) title this book has had.  He said they'd (presumably the Marketing Dept. -- since they were the LEAST thrilled with the title) have a meeting and have something to me by Friday.

One of my biggest character flaws is a lack of patience.  Therefore, I went right to my cozy author chums and my favorite cozy reader list and asked for help. 

Wow--these ladies are quick on the title draw.  Within four hours, I had at least 50 title suggestions.  I think one of them is a real standout ... but it won't be up to me to pick the winner.  And the Marketing Department might not like ANY of the titles.  Still, I sent them off to my editor this morning.

Now I wait.  And hope.  And I'll let you know as soon as I know what the new title of Victoria Square #1 is to be.

To Postcard...or NOT to Postcard

A week or so ago, I tried an experiment.  The company I use to send out my emailed newsletter (at a very reasonable price) also does postcards.  I wondered how good their product was.  They allow you to send out one free postcard, so I made one for my upcoming release Chapter & Hearse.  I had a little trouble getting my apostrophes to come out, but after fiddling with them for almost half an hour, got it right.  They tell you your card will be send out within 3-5 days.

So I waited.

And waited.

And finally TEN days later, I got my postcard.

I must admit, the printing was excellent.  The card looked wonderful.  I was a bit skeptical of the timing, as the card said it was presorted first class and it took ten days for me to get it, but I figured if I set the thing up, it might be worth sending out a week earlier than planned.

Then I searched the site for the pricing.  Oh.  Brick wall here.  I couldn't find ANYTHING.  So I wrote to the company.  A day later I had a URL for their cunningly concealed price list.

Wow--did my eyes go boing! or what?  The cost came in at 83 cents per card (more if you mail less of them--less if you mail a LOT more).

Well, that was the end of THAT scenario.  Mind you, everything is automated.  You do the layout, they approve it, they take your mailing list, sort it by zip code, print the card, and out it goes.

I would save at least $313 by doing it myself.  Okay, that means I'd have to spend a MINIMUM of 6 hours (more likely 8) putting on address labels and stamps, but hey, $313 is money I could spend doing other promo.  And what if I hired someone to put those labels on--I could still save at least $200.

I don't have all the time in the world, but I know how to make time.  I have a feeling I'll be sticking down labels while I'm doing other stuff -- like watching TV, or on some rainy Saturday afternoon when there's nothing to do.

What else does an author have to do?  (Oh, yeah--write the books!)

And such an innocent flower

It shouldn’t be surprising that a mystery author is guilty of wanton murder. Mind you, it wasn’t premeditated, but it was murder just the same.

I’m talking about my houseplants. I’ve always wanted a green thumb. Both my parents could produce flowers and vegetables by barely lifting a finger (okay, hauling 50 lb sacks of manure might help them out a bit). They planted things and they flourished for years. I plant something and it shrivels and dies in days. (Or it’s eaten by bunnies, ground hogs or … something mysterious we haven’t been able to identify. Probably an alien species sent to Earth to thwart my gardening abilities.)

Take for instance the once-lovely primrose I’ve had for a little over a month. The day it arrived home it was flourishing with big purple and yellow flowers. Now it looks like this. Did I water it enough? Too much?

Mind you, I have had a few successes, but I really can’t take credit for them. I inherited a rubber tree when a friend at work retired. It existed (you can’t call what my plants do “living”) in our dining room until all but four leaves had dropped off. With nothing left to lose, I tossed it out on the deck and forgot about it. It thrived on neglect and natural rain and humidity, thinking it had landed back in its homeland. I bring it in for the winter and it goes back to existing until late spring rolls around and the threat of frost is minimized.
Then it goes back to its happy lifestyle for another three to five months (depending on when fall arrives) until I have to bring it in once again.


My Christmas cactus never bloomed and looked ill when I tossed it, too, out on the deck last May. This year it’ll bloom twice. (Although this second blooming won’t be as magnificent as last fall’s.)  I find it amazing that I haven't killed it since it came in last October.

On this first day of spring, I’m hoping the primrose survives. If it makes it, it’ll go outside (I’m having a novena said for it). I’ve also got another cactus that can go out on the deck. So far, it has a much better gardening success rate than me.

By the way--Happy First Day of Spring!

Snow peas in my future?

Wednesday was shopping day.  Here we are only days from spring and the "seasonal" section of the supermarket was all decked out for summer.  Excuse me, but we still have an entire season to go before we get to summer.

But the one thing I was eager to investigate was the seed rack.  For several years, I've been trying to find Kentucky blue (pole) beans.  I've only been able to find Kentucky wonder, which were good, but not as good as the Kentucky Blue.  Yup, the store had them, and I bought three packages.

I usually grow potatoes in a bin, but this year I think I'm going to put them back in the ground.  Instead, I'm going to try to grow leeks in the bin.  It's the same principal, you cover them up as they grow, so they'll grow taller.  This should be fun.

But the most exciting thing is snow pea seeds.  I've never grown them before, and they're a "cold" weather crop, so I can plant them in the next couple of weeks.  (And hope the rabbits don't get them.)

Meanwhile, tomorrow I'll be talking about some other plants.  Stay tuned.

Time for a purge?

It seems like we have a million pens in this house.  You'd think at least a tiny portion of them would actually work. 

I've been collecting pens and pencils for years and have a few that seem to work.  In fact, some of these pens are really old (in pen life).  I have to hold onto them because the new ones seem to work a time or two and then poop out.

A few years ago, I discovered the gel pen.  Whoa!  Nice--and in great colors.  I liked them so much I bought a set of them in about 48 colors.  I let them sit for a few weeks and lost the receipt.  Do you know that NOT ONE OF THEM WORKED!!!

I've got mugs of pens scattered around the house (four of them in my office alone) and do you know that if I grab any pen in those mugs they probably won't work.  They worked the time before, that's why they're there--but the next time.  Nope, won't work.

The thing is, I always have hope that they WILL work.  I love them.  I want them to work.  When they don't, I take it rather personally.  

I've decided I need to do something about it.  Have a thorough pen purge.

Gulp.  

Now, to find the courage to do it.

And what's bugging YOU today?

Are you wearin' Ore the Green?

I don't know about you, but I'm celebrating St. Paddy's day with Irish soda bread, and corned beef and cabbage.

And here's my favorite Irish Soda Bread recipe (which was included in my first Booktown Mystery, MURDER IS BINDING).

4 cups all-purpose flour
¼ cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1½ cups buttermilk
¼ cup corn or canola oil
2 teaspoons caraway seeds
1 cup golden raisons
1 tablespoon milk
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Foil-line a baking sheet, lightly grease.

In a large bowl, stir the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together.  In a separate bowl, beat the eggs, buttermilk, and oil together.  Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in the buttermilk mixture.  Add the caraway seeds and raisins.  Stir until a soft dough forms.

With floured hands, shape the dough into a large ball on a lightly floured board or waxed paper.  With a sharp knife, make an X across the top of the dough.  Place the dough on the prepared baking sheet.  Brush the top with milk.  Bake in the center of the oven until golden brown (30 to 40 minutes). 

Serve warm with butter.

Enjoy!

S-L-O-W-L-Y I turn...step by step...inch by inch....

I love finishing a book.  There's such a sense of satisfaction.  There it is, your brand new baby, cute as a button and all you want to do is show it off.  Of course, then you have to wait a YEAR or more before that happens . . . .

Unfortunately, I'm not in the last throes of writing the book.  I'm not quite in the middle either.  I'm still in that EXTREMELY PAINFUL part where I'm hoping the whole thing comes together like a giant wedding cake.  I'm still laying the foundation layers right now.

My writing goal is 1250 words five days a week, or 6,250 words a week.  Here we are at the 15th of the month (eeek!  The Ides of March) and I've only been getting about 295 words a day.  S-L-O-W-L-Y the story is coming together, but it's taken me three months to get here, and I have less than three months to go.  I can see me rushing when it comes to deadline time -- and then I have another book to deliver three months after that.  (Luckily, that book is in better shape than the one I'm working on now--at least I have a complete draft of that done.)

I didn't have a breakthrough yesterday, but I did eek forward more than I have for a full week (despite the fact I had a lot of great ideas on Thursday).  So I have pages and pages of scene fragments just sitting there, rather like a giant jigsaw puzzle.  Now to figure out where the pieces go, and how they all connect.  (This puzzle is beginning to feel like all one color.)

I guess I'm a little discouraged right now.  But I have a feeling when I'm done, this book is going to be one of my favorites.  At least, I'm crossing my fingers that it happens.

Keep the racket down, boys, some of us are trying to sleep

We've had mild temps for the past week (mild being over 40).  The snow, that's been at least two feet deep for at least six weeks, has finally started to melt (or evaporate--I'm not sure which) and slowly my yard is beginning to reappear.  Of course, now it's supposed to rain for the next week, but that doesn't bother me as much as snow.  And, for writing purposes, it's much easier to work when it's NOT sunny and pretty outside.

The daffodils have poked through the dirt, but even that isn't much of a sign of spring.  Last year my daffy daffs poked their little heads out in January.

What really makes it seem like spring is one the way?  Birds.  Suddenly there are a lot of birds around.  And they're tweeting.  AND WAKING ME UP BEFORE I WANT TO BE UP AND AWAKE.

Of course, this is just a prelude to April when there'll be even MORE birds sitting on the pine tree outside my bedroom window and starting to squawk about 4 a.m. and continue until at least 7.  Cute as they are, hopping around the yard, looking for worms or looking for building materials for nests, couldn't they sleep in until 8 or 9 and THEN become industrious?

Oh well.  I suppose it's a small price to pay for sunny days and warm temperatures.

If you live up North, have the birds returned to your town?

An unhappy consumer

As some of you will recall, I got a new fridge a couple of weeks ago.  The appliance showroom was full of those autopsy fridges (stainless steel) which looked big enough to store a woolly mammoth.  Meanwhile, all the fridges that were either white, bisque, or black looked like a LOT smaller than the autopsy fridges.

Eager for a sale, the salesman (no doubt working on commission) shook his head.  "No, ma'am, all these fridges have the same square footage."

Hmm.  I didn't have a tape measure, so there was no way I could check.
So I purchased my fridge and waited a week for them to deliver it. 
It took one huge ice chest, a medium ice chest, and a big plastic bag to empty my old freezer.  Luckily, it was about 15 degrees outside, so out in the enclosed porch it went.

The new fridge arrived, and when I put all the stuff back inside of the refrigerator part with no trouble.  And then I started putting the frozen stuff away.  Guess what?  I only managed to put two-thirds of the freezer stuff back.  (I still have a bag of bread out on the enclosed porch.)  And since then, everything inside of it has been trying to escape--especially heavy pieces of frozen meat. 

I've been pelted by chicken, sausage, frozen bags of lima beans and peas, birthday candles, bags of ice, boxes of puff pastry and veggies burgers, and one thing's for sure:  That freezer is much, MUCH smaller than the old freezer.

The fridge is DEFINITELY smaller.  It might be the same height as the old one, but it's definitely . . . thinner.  There's about five inches more space around it than the old one.  That's probably why it rates as an Energy Star model.  Of course it takes less energy to run . . . IT'S SMALLER!

The thing is...we're stuck with it.  No more buying veggies on sale.  No more frozen loafs of bread.

I am unhappy and I loathe my new freezer.

Have you ever been disappointed by a major appliance?