Just a Little Tummy Ache

Thank you, Aline, for your post on Monday. You've given me another destination if I actually do take a vacation in late May (meeting up with friends who want to do a bus tour of Scotland). You also made me happy that I'm working on a historical novel set during an era when one could still hope to get away with accidentally seasoning the stew with a poisonous flower.

I long to have an herb garden. Since our growing season here is short, I thought of doing a window box. My only problem is that I have a cat who snacks on anything green. I've taken to the internet to Google the various lists available on plants that are dangerous for four-legged family members. I've even noted the green plants that my cat's vet has in her office waiting room. But I'm still wary that somehow I will manage to purchase the wrong plant at the garden store and do my cat in. And, yes, I have asked the staff in several stores. They always seem reluctant to assure me of the safety of their lovely plants. I suspect they're concerned about a lawsuit if my cat decides to have a snack and gets more than a stomachache. 

One of the workshops that I'm scheduled to do at Sleuthfest in March is titled "Food, Crime, and Justice." Since I'm not an expert on poisons, I'm leaving that discussion to the presenter who is. But I do plan to discuss the theories in criminology about killers who use poison. For example, the male criminologist who in the mid-20th century wrote a book in which he argued that poison was the preferred murder weapon of female killers. This preference, he argued, was for both practical reasons and because women were secretive and devious. 

I'm going to encourage my workshop participants to think about everyday interactions that involve food and drink. I've thought about this because whenever I go back to revise my own books and short stories I notice how often my characters eat and drink. I don't think I'm capable of writing a high-octane thriller in which no one ever stops for a meal or a bathroom break. Not that I want to. My characters stop off in their favorite cafe or restaurant. They make trips to the supermarket. They talk as they are cooking and sitting down to dinner. Their favorite foods and how they consume them reveal something about them.

I always notice how characters prepare and consume food in crime films. It's one of the topics I'm discussing in my book about gangster films. For example, two of my favorite scenes in Goodfellas involve food preparation -- the gangsters cooking their own elaborate meal in the prison kitchen, and, later, Ray Liotta (as Henry Hill) back in the kitchen preparing a meal as his character's world is about to come crashing down.  

In everyday life, we do tend to pigeonhole people by what they consume -- vegans versus meat eaters. Hard-working, drive-thru black coffee drinkers versus the espresso latte elitists who lounge in cafes. We have stereotypes of who these people are -- work, friends, beliefs. In fact, these perceptions have become so much a part of American culture that politicians can alienate voters by fumbles when they try to shop in a supermarket, order a hamburger, or eat a slice of pizza. Note to politicians:  Do not eat your pizza with a fork in New York City. 

My fascination with food is one of the reasons that I'm writing a book set in 1939. My characters  travel in a Pullman coach, attend the New York World's Fair, and appreciate having enough to eat because they have survived the worst years of the Great Depression. 

Time for lunch. I missed breakfast, and I will be grateful for the meal I am about to consume.

Conferences

As I was last week -- when I briefly popped up because I had the wrong Friday -- I'm still deep into the manuscript I have due and day job. So please forgive me for not doing a real post.

I do want to direct your attention to two mystery conferences coming up in March 2020 (love that year. Can you believe it?).

The first conference will be the third annual Murderous March sponsored by the Upper Hudson (upstate New York) chapter of Sisters in Crime coming up the weekend of March 20 and 21. Our partner in this endeavor is a local library. This conference is growing much faster than we anticipated re writer interest in participating in what for the first year was a small, chapter event. Next year, we anticipate having expanded beyond our library space. If you are interested in attending, I'm the program chair and will have flyers available shortly.

The other conference is one you may already be familiar with -- Sleuthfest in Florida. Sleuthfest will be over four days, March 26-29. Catriona McPherson is the Guest of Honor. I'm one of the four Author Faculty who will be doing three workshops over the course of the conference.

http://sleuthfest.com/

More on my next Friday. Hope to report I've finished my manuscript on gangster movies and gotten it out the door. 

Thomas Turner, Guest Blogger

Please welcome our weekend guest author, Thomas Turner. A native New Englander, Tom ran a bar in Vermont after college, then moved to New York and spent time as an award-winning copywriter at several Manhattan advertising agencies. A few years later he ended up in Palm Beach, buying, renovating and selling houses. On the side, he wrote Palm Beach Nasty (one of my favorite titles of all time), its sequel, Palm Beach Poison, and a screenplay, Underwater. He currently lives in Charleston, South Carolina, and recently completed his third novel, Killing Time in Charleston. Take it away, Tom.

Sleuthfest is one of the great writers conferences. Held in Deerfield Beach, Florida, I have been to it four times, three as writer wannabe and this past Spring as published author, panelist and moderator. Back in 2008 Lee Child was the what I call the 'headliner,' but maybe that's a little too Vegas-y, so let's just call him, Special Guest of Honor. Lee is not only tremendously articulate and funny, but a very nice, down-to-earth guy. The last night of the conference, there was an auction for naming rights for a character in one of Lee's upcoming novels. The bidding was fast and furious and, in the end, I was the one left with my paddle raised. And now seven years later, Major Susan Turner is a cohort of Jack Reacher, living on in immortality in three of Lee's novels.

With that Sleuthfest history, I drove down to Deerfield Beach, filled with anticipation and eagerness, not to mention a little stage fright--having never been either a moderator or a panelist before. Well, turned out the Sleuthfest organizers had a special job picked out just for me, the rookie moderator. I was moderator of a panel called The Art of Embalming. With words like lividity, rigor mortis, cadaver and formaldehyde dancing in my head, I met the presenter, George Rafaidus, and a few minutes later introduced him. Turned out to be one of the most fascinating forty five minute presentations I've ever attended. The audience was totally into it and George was informative, well-prepared and, believe it or not, really funny. I walked away with a souvenir, too, a bottle of embalming fluid. I still haven't figured out what to do with it.

The next day, I went to my panel, which was entitled Laughing at Death. It was about humor in the face of death and destruction in the respective panelists' novels. I was the last to speak and I was awestruck at how smooth and silver-tongued my fellow panelists were. The moderator lobbed me what he thought, no doubt, to be a soft-ball question: "So, Tom, tell us about a funny scene in your novel, Palm Beach Nasty. I read it and thought it was jam-packed with good ones." I totally froze. If you asked me where my novel took place I wouldn't have known (clue: it's in the title.) I wanted to say, "Okay, Mr. Moderator, bail me out here…  give me a clue about one of those scenes you thought was so damn funny…" I guess I muddled through  it okay, 'cause at the end the moderator came up to me, shook my hand and said, "great job, Tom."

"You're kidding," I thought.

After a nice lunch that day, I eagerly approached the next event: signing books for my adoring readers. The drill was there were long tables which eight or ten authors sat behind looking out. Readers then came up with books they'd just purchased at the adjacent book store which authors signed. I was seated next to the son in a well-known mother-son writing team. He never deigned to turn to me and acknowledge my presence, maybe because he was so busy signing books.  I got exhausted watching him inscribe book after book. Ka-ching, ka-ching, I remember thinking as I sat there twiddling my thumbs. After about twenty five minutes and no adoring fans, I was about to flee. Find a bridge and jump. But then, finally, a timid woman approached. "Hi, I really liked Palm Beach Nasty, would you--"

Would I? Are you kidding? I almost kissed her.
_____________
Check out Tom's website at tomturnerwrites.com

On Not Plunging In

Generally, when we write about attending mystery conferences, we mention opportunities to catch up with writer friends, meet and mingle with readers, see editors and agents, and appear on panels. We write about what we learn by attending workshops and interviews with bestselling authors. We write about how we soak up all that energy, and come home ready to sit down and write.

These are all excellent reasons for attending conferences. In fact, when I signed up for Sleuthfest this year, I thought of what fun it would be to hang out with friends, be on a panel, and do a pre-publication debut of my new book, What the Fly Saw. I have to admit – no offense to Floridians – that the chance to get out of snowbound, frigid Albany, New York and spend a few days in a balmy clime was not one of the reasons I wanted to attend. I'm not a warm weather person. But, I arrived this afternoon, and so far it hasn't been bad. I've gone from air-conditioned airport to shuttle to hotel room. There is no humidity. Much better than my last visit to Florida.

But I haven't gone to the conference yet. I'm in an overflow hotel across the street (busy boulevard) and – more important – I got up at five a.m. to make my 8:15 a.m flight. That wouldn't have been bad, but I got to bed at around 2 and had about three hours sleep. So I decided to pass on the last of the afternoon workshops and the Thursday evening kickoff events. Tomorrow, I'll go over fresh and wide awake.

Being in an overflow hotel does offer one advantage – the opportunity to hide out. This is also possible in the conference hotel if you dodge people you know and/or are willing to nod briskly and keep moving when you do encounter friends. It is much easier to hide out when you are in the overflow hotel because most people in your hotel will be heading to the conference hotel. In the overflow hotel, you have an excuse for not attending an evening event – you don't want to walk back to your hotel alone in the dark. This excuse only works if you purposely don't look for people you know who might be in your hotel and with whom you could walk. Of course, you also don't bother to consider the possibility that you would be safe walking across the street from one hotel to the other.

Obviously when you have gone to the effort and expense of attending the conference, hiding out in your room should not be something you do every night. Especially when you are attending a great conference like Sleuthfest. But I would argue that taking one evening for decompression before plunging in is acceptable.

The other opportunity that should not be missed when attending a conference is the chance to take an airport shuttle to your hotel. I say this without sarcasm. Yes, if you are rushing to plunge into conference activities, then waiting for your shuttle to leave and then going on a rambling journey while other passengers are delivered to their destinations can be tedious. On the other hand, if you decide to think of the shuttle ride as a tour of the area, it becomes much more interesting. Much can be learned about an area while a passenger on an airport shuttle.

The other first-evening pleasure you should consider – in-room dining. Room service or delivery. Tonight, I ordered a wonderful meal – including coconut flan – that was delivered to my hotel. And I ate it wearing old tee shirt, shorts, and flip flops.

I also got a little work done. Some reading I needed to do. Some notes I needed to make about a project. Bright and early Friday, I will plunge into Sleuthfest, and I'm sure I'll have fun. But Thursday was my transition day…and that is why I have no photos for this post.