PET PEEVE THURSDAY

Today's guest blogger is New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Karen Harper -- and Karen has several things on her mind.

As a former high school and university (Ohio State--"Go Bucks!") English instructor, a lot of my pet peeves are related to the demise of proper English, but I won't bore you with that, except for my #1 hit pick. No one needs to say "the reason why" to explain something. Reason and why are redundant. Just say "the reason is" or use the word why alone. Yes, I realize I've got to get over it that the English language--which is always evolving--has left that behind. (Sigh)

Actually my #1 real-life pet peeve right now (besides being rear-ended by a woman who was on a cell phone) is TV news anchors or reporters who may look great but who have grating-on-the-ear voices. Don't the TV stations partly hire people for a good voice, or is that discrimination in hiring these days? This occurs mostly on regional stations, not national news and seldom on radio. Don't they realize that listeners don't want a too guttural or piercing or baby girl voice delivering the news? It's disturbing enough by itself, so at least we ought to have a reassuring, calm voice relating it to us. Count yourself fortunate if your local TV stations hires anchors and reporters with modulated voices. (Hm, I just gave three pet peeves here, so I hope Lorraine doesn't notice. Thanks for letting me vent!)

And what's bugging you today?
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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Karen Harper has a new book out today! It's Mistress Shakespeare (and isn't that cover just gorgeous?). Karen writes contemporary and historical fiction. For more information about Karen and her books, please visit her website.
Also, Karen will be giving away a free copy of Mistress Shakespeare when she guest posts on the Writers Plot blog on Valentine's Day. Stay tuned for more information.

Props

When I was a freshman in high school, my best friend decided we should join the Drama Club. Being painfully shy (at the time, I wouldn't even answer the phone) it was torture for me to get up on that stage--as an extra--and learn the chorus parts of the musical OLIVER. I definitely did NOT have acting in my blood. And--thanks to a cast member telling my friend that she had NO acting talent just a week or so before the first performance--she decided that WE would QUIT. Boy, was I relieved.
Still, the world of props has always fascinated me. I use them in my writing. Either I have some tchotchke that inspires me, or I'll go out and find something I've written about.

Mr. L collects barware. For years we scoured flea markets, antique shops and garage sales for vintage barware. Was that the reason I made Jeff Resnick a bartender or was that just a coincidence? I'm not sure anymore.

In the first Booktown Mystery, Tricia acquires a little gold scatter pin. A few years ago, I bought a box lot of jewelry for $15. At the time it seemed an exorbitant amount of money. In the end, I think I sold most of it for about $150 in my both at an antique co-op. Not a bad investment, but I kept the most valuable piece--the gold scatter pin, for myself. I've never worn it, because I tend to lose things far too easily, but it has sat on my computer keyboard for a couple of years. And every day I look at it and admire this lovely little pin and remember the history I wrote for it.

I've collected other things that have/or will some day appear in a book. In the third (so-far unpublished) Jeff Resnick mystery, Jeff learns about the paternal (Jewish) side of his family. For years I searched for just the right Menorah. It now sits on one of my bookshelves. Not that a Menorah is mentioned in the story--but once I decided to write about Jeff's extended family (in the month of December), it became important for me to find that Menorah.

I suppose one of the most tangible things I've incorporated into my work is my cat, Cori. She's been dead for almost a decade now, but she came back to life for me--and lives on as Miss Marple, Tricia's cat in the Booktown Mysteries. I wish the cover artist would have contacted me before she did the wonderful painting for Murder Is Binding--I would've gladly sent her pictures of my beloved Cori-Belle. And yet, Miss Marple on the Bookmarked for Death cover is much prettier than the one on the first book--but she still isn't half as beautiful as my Cori.

If I gave it more thought, I'm sure I could come up with a lot more examples of things I've borrowed from my life to inject into my fiction. These pieces of flotsam and jetsam are pieces of me I embed into my work. For some reason, incorporating these things into my fictional worlds make them more real to me--and hopefully to my readers, too.

GROUNDHOG DAY!

Well, by now old Phil (of Punxsutawney) has come out of his hole and seen his shadow. Six more weeks of winter ... yada yada yada. (I hate the little bugger. Yeah, the calendar tells me there's still at LEAST six more weeks of winter, but couldn't he at least boost our hopes and predict an early spring just for the hell of it?)

Groundhog Day means two things to me. A.) My friend Lee Shackleford's birthday (Hi, Lee! Have a Happy!) and B.) The movie with Bill Murray.

I'm a BIG fan of Lee Shackleford. Not so big a fan of Bill Murray. But I do love the movie Groundhog Day, and I suppose it's because of Bill Murray that I watch this movie so many times. He starts out a complete ass, and after reliving the same day over and over again, learns to be a great guy with a heart of gold. But it takes reliving that day hundreds of times for him to get his life in order.
My favorite part of the movie (aside from him shoving an entire piece of angel food cake into his mouth--and Andie McDowell's reaction), are the parts where he (SPOILER ALERT) makes good use of this repeating day and does good deeds, learns to play the piano, make ice sculptures (with chainsaw and knife). The scene at the party makes a great crescendo.

If there was one day I could live over again, it would be my wedding day -- or maybe Christmas 1991, the two happiest days of my life. I'd get married in another venue (my brother's backyard on the water -- and hire a tent and a different caterer) -- and for Christmas: that one was almost perfect. I think I'd leave that one alone.

What day of your life would you live over?

Wegmans and me

For those of you who aren't familiar with the name, Wegmans is a regional grocery store chain that just happens to be headquartered in my home town. I can remember my parents shopping at the Mt. Read store when I was eight or ten (and we won't get into how many years ago that was). I've been shopping there since I had my first apartment (again--too many years to mention.) So it was a thrill for me to walk into the store yesterday and see ...

Well, hold on a second and let me backtrack.

I have wanted to get my books into Wegmans for almost four years. I can understand why they wouldn't want to bother with my small press books, but when Murder Is Binding came out last year, I tried again. Never heard from them.

A little over three weeks ago (? I'm iffy with time), I was in one of the stores and just happened to run into the woman who stocks the bookshelves. I told her I was a local author and pitched Bookmarked for Death. She took my bookmarks and said she'd ask her boss if they could stock the book.

In the meantime, I have a friend who works in the Wegmans main office. Just yesterday I heard from her, and she suggested I write to the general merchandise manager, send her a copy of the book, and tell her about Murder Is Binding's latest print run. Sniff. I only had one copy of the book, but I wrote a letter and zoomed to the P.O. After that, I went to the same Wegmans store where I'd talked to the stock lady. And there, at eye level, in all its purple glory, was Bookmarked for Death. The problem was--there was nobody in the aisle to see my happy dance or hear me shout: HEY, IT'S MY FIRST SIGHTING OF MY NEW BOOK!!!

I still would dearly love to have a book signing at Wegmans flagship store. Hey, they do it all the time in their Fairfax store with authors like Mary Higgins Clark (as chronicled in USA Today)--why not me! If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen.

But--weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--I'm in Wegmans!

Surprise!

Almost two weeks ago, I hinted that I had projects in the works I couldn't talk about. Guess what? I still can't talk about them. But I might be getting closer.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I finished my big postcard project. The bookmark project continues, and I've been signing between 50-100 bookmarks a night because the requests keep coming in. Yesterday I got a note from an indy bookstore in Central New York asking for them. You bet! The package is ready to go, along with a request for bookplates from a library in California, and a request for a bookmark from a fan.

A fan. I always hoped I'd have fans, but I never believed it would happen. And now I want some sycophants. (Anybody wanna lobby for the job?)

Progress on the new book hasn't been as good as I'd hoped, but I'm inching along and have already made the bare minimum word count for the month. (I have today and tomorrow--just think what I might still accomplish!)

Bookmarked for Death has been popping up all over the place. Weeeeee!

And then there are the secrets I alluded to up above. If even one of them comes through, I will be a LOT busier in the not-so-distant future. I'm thrilled and terrified at the same time.

MAID IN HEAVEN?

I don't know how I ever got everything done when I had a full-time job. I worked 40 hours; I had a booth in an antique co-op (for nearly 12 years), and I wrote. In between I did the housework and laundry. Now that I'm a work-at-home author, I don't have enough hours in the day to write, promote, help my parents out, and clean the house.

For a while now, things have been getting out of control. A lot of it is just clutter, and I'm trying to address it. I have to part with some of the paper. I need to part with stuff I'll never use--especially stuff that was destined for the co-op booth and never made it there. (And where am I going to find the time to do that?)

Part of my problem stems from collecting reading material. Not just books, but magazines. I've come to the sad conclusion that I'm going to have to part with something--in this case, it's gotta be the magazines--cause I ain't giving up my books. I'll keep my Victoria, Romantic Homes, Tea Time, and some of the British decorating issues, but I'll have to part with most of the rest. (Sniff.)

We need more bookshelves. The problem is -- we have nowhere to put them. We're working on it.

When I broached the idea of hiring someone to come in once or twice a month, I was surprised at how enthusiastic hubby was. Apparently, he's as tired of looking at the dust bunnies as I am.
All I really want is someone to clean the kitchen and the bathroom and vacuum the living room.

 Now to clean up the house enough to have someone come in and clean it up more.

I AUTO SIGN MY AUTOGRAPH

A couple of years ago, I signed a birthday card for my niece. I wrote: Happy Birthday! Love Aunt Lorraine. When she opened the card, she frowned and said, "What does this say? I can't read cursive." I was stunned to learn that they no longer teach children to write--my niece, now age 17, still prints like she did in grade school.

What are these children going to do when it comes time to open a checking account, buy a car, or sign a lease? It boggles my mind. Not only that, but will the fact that I use cursive date me?

Boy, do I use cursive. With a new book on the cusp of publication, I've been signings hundreds of bookmarks and postcards that are going out to readers, libraries, and bookstore. Sometimes I get hypnotized by writing the same thing over and over again and end up writing the wrong name. Or a combination of my names: L.L. Barrett and Lorna Bartlett. Like the title of this blog says, it's no wonder I'm Dazed and Confused.

Moving Up A Notch

Two weeks ago I reported that Murder Is Binding was the #11th most popular paperback at the Murder On The Beach Mystery Bookstore. That was a big thrill me to know my book had done so well for that store.

Yesterday, my chum Leann Sweeney wrote to tell me I'd moved up a notch at the Mystery Lovers Bookshop--and Murder is Binding was their 10th bestselling paperback. Once again, I'm in great company, along with Nancy Martin, Donna Andrews, Elaine Viets, and Rhys Bowen.

Yee-ha!

I'm very fond of the Mystery Lovers Bookshop. Last spring, I had the opportunity to be a part of the thirteenth annual Festival of Mystery, a remarkable assemblage of 50 authors and hundreds of readers who gather in Oakmont, PA, the Monday after the Malice Domestic conference. I hope I get invited again this year.

Victoria Returns

Okay, guys, you're probably going to be bored by this one. Just warning you.

Victoria magazine has returned with great fanfare. And it's a Christmas issue. (Kind of odd in October...but then we'll take what we can get.) The November/December issue is a very close replica of the Victoria of old, from the calling cards article to the gorgeous photography, to the regular features, like the touring article, and my favorite "Chimes" as the last article.

I read the thing from cover to cover. Twice. My favorite article was under the "collectibles" banner, "Come Back To The Five & Dime" because I am a sucker for mid-20th century Christmas kitsch. But I enjoyed "touring" article about Mystic, Connecticut. The article on Rebecca Rather (The Pastry Queen of Texas) tempted me with decadent treats. They featured her Christmas cookbook, which has a BIG coconut cake on the cover. (Write this down: Lorraine is also a SUCKER for coconut cakes.)

I've probably read at least half of Alexandra Stoddard's books, so peeking into her article, "A Room Of One's Own" and seeing where she writes and how she does it, makes me jealous. (My writing room has never looked that tidy.) But it's neat to know I'm not the only one who writes (longhand) with oddball colored inks.

Even the ads were gorgeous and complimented the editorial content. They weren't obtrusive, although I think at least 99% of them were for things I can never incorporate into my everyday life. But then who cares! Hundreds of thousands of woman turned to Victoria because it was an escape to a more genteel life--one that's impossible to find in this day and age.

Victoria very generously sent me this first issue for free. I shall now reward them with a subscription. (And hope like hell they can deliver on the promise that this first "reborn" issue has made.)

R.I.P. VICTORIA MAGAZINE?

For years my favorite magazine was Victoria. Under the editorial direction of editor-in-chief Nancy Lindemeyer it was a monthly feast for the eyes and the source of pride and encouragement it gave to women who wanted to own their own businesses.

Month after month women-owned businesses (BLISS) were featured. These weren't Fortune 500 companies. Most of the enterprises featured were small--tiny--microscopic even. Just the owner, family members (moms, sisters or daughters) and/or an employee or two. Most of the businesses were "girly" in nature: food/clothing/cologne/decorating.

The magazine often sponsored workshops, teas, speakers, and trips geared toward women and their pursuit of a lovely life. Opportunities for women to meet, talk, network...connect. The photography was exceptional...even articles featuring clothes were gorgeous to behold (and I ain't no clothes horse--never had an interest in it).

The advertising was family-friendly, featuring products that women want and need. Plucked from an issue from 2000: Clorox, Spiegel, Oneida, L.L. Bean, Tums. Okay, there was also a perfume ad and one for American Express, but the editorial content outweighed the BONK-YOU-ON-THE-HEAD ads. One assumes the "Where to Shop & Buy" section, telling where you could find that couch on page 37 or the sweater on page 68 could be purchased, paid for quite a bit of the freight.

I've always preferred magazines that feature content over ads and have been willing to pay extra for them. Maybe that's why I read stuff put out by Reiman Publications (think Taste of Home magazine) and Harris Publications (Country Almanac/Collectibles/Cottage Style magazines). Much as I admire Martha Stewart (who was incarcerated for far less crimes than those in charge of Enron--DON'T GET ME STARTED), her magazine LIVING is considered highly successful because it's 40+% ads. Not in my book. I don't buy a magazine to look at ads. Sadly, too many women do.

When Nancy Lindemeyer retired as editor of Victoria, the magazine's new editor (or her management) changed everything about it, from the logo to everything inside its pages. No longer was the magazine devoted to women in business (featuring their magnificent calling/business cards) or who wanted to live a better,m ore gentile life; it became another "how-much-revenue-can-we-make-from-ads?" fiasco. The focus changed and became yet another bland decorator magazine. (Sadly, Mary Englebert's HOME COMPANION magazine has recently changed from its focus on artists and making an artful life to yet another deadly dull decorating magazine--in neutral shades. I've dropped that subscription, too.)

When Nancy Lindemeyer left, Victoria lost its focus, so it's no surprise that it soon sank into oblivion. I had already decided not to renew my subscription when suddenly instead of Victoria magazine something stark and ugly called HEALTH showed up in my mailbox (apparently aimed at 20 somethings who think nothing of botox injections and the surgical solutions to aging). I didn't order that crap. It went straight to the recycle box the minute it arrived.

I tossed the issues of Victoria that came after Nancy's guidance, but I have saved and read and reread six or seven years worth of Victoria (and wish I had more of the older issues). What a joy it is to revisit them again and again.

*Sigh*

But all hope is not lost. Although the magazine succumbed in 2003, it's supposed to be resurrected in October 2007 by a new publisher (under rights from Hearst Publications). I'm willing to give it another chance. After all, who ever thought Star Trek The Next Generation could ever rival Classic Trek? It didn't. And it did. I hope the management at the new Victoria will consult Nancy Lindemeyer on what made the magazine great when she controlled it. And I hope the new regime will listen.