Blew it again!

by (a very contrite) Rick Blechta

I operate on a very specific timeline for getting things done each week. If one thing changes, it can throw the whole thing out of kilter. I had a gig with my band, SOULidified, on Sunday, but then on Monday I usually have a rehearsal with the big band I play in. Last night, I didn’t attend because I’m not playing the band’s next gig on Saturday. Are you with me so far?


Well, my posting day for Type M is always the next morning after Monday band rehearsal (or gig), and since I didn’t go to rehearsal, I had no idea it was Tuesday until just now. I know, I know, I’m totally a creature of habit and it usually doesn’t let me down. Unfortunately, there are times…

See everyone next week!

Unofficial Poll of Favorite Holiday Books and Movies

My latest Geneva Chase mystery, Graveyard Bay, takes place shortly before Christmas. Now, under no circumstances, would I classify it as a holiday tale. Of my three published novels, Graveyard Bay is probably the darkest. Whips, chains, assassinations, jailbreaks—not a lot of eggnog moments. Toward the end, I broke down and gave Geneva a proper holiday ending, but that’s not the kind of girl she is. We know she’s really not going to enjoy it. Pour her another Absolut.

When someone asked me what my favorite Christmas movie is, I immediately answered Die Hard. Filled with murder, action, explosions, gun play and Bruce Willis wisecracks, there aren’t a lot of warm and fuzzy holiday moments. But in the words of that infamous bad guy, Hans Gruber, “It’s Christmas, it’s the time of miracles, so be of good cheer and call me when you hit the last lock.” Yippee-ki-yay.

Curious about everyone else, I reached out on my social media platforms and asked what their favorite Christmas story, book, or movie is.  The book (and many movies it spawned) named, overwhelmingly, was A Christmas Carol.

There’s no need to recount the story because we all know it, but a couple of little-known facts are: the book was published on December 17, 1843 and was sold out in three days. By the end of 1844, thirteen editions had been printed. Dickens began writing the novella in October and finished it in six weeks to have it ready before Christmas.

One last fact, Mark Twain was in the audience when Dickens did a reading (actually, more of a performance than a reading) in New York and gave him a tepid review. “There is no heart. No feeling. It is nothing but glittering frostwork.”

Before his readings, Dickens would drink two tablespoons of rum with cream for breakfast. Later, he would have a pint of champagne, and just before the performance, he would drink a sherry with a raw egg beaten into it. During the reading he would sip beef tea and would have soup just before bed.

Much like Graveyard Bay and Die Hard, there’s not a lot of laughs in A Christmas Carol. It does have a satisfying story arc.

The number one movie pick in my unofficial poll was It’s a Wonderful Life. Here’s a little known fact about it. Philip Van Doren Stern, an author, editor, and Civil War historian was inspired by a dream he had, based on A Christmas Carol, and wrote a 4000-word short story called The Greatest Gift. He shopped it around, but couldn’t get it published. So, in 1943, he printed 200 copies and sent them out as Christmas cards to his friends. Someone showed it to a producer at RKO Pictures who gave it to Cary Grant to read. The actor was interested in playing the lead and the studio purchased the film rights for $10,000. Grant eventually passed on it, however, and Liberty Films bought the rights and George Capra made the film calling it It’s a Wonderful Life.

Should you forget, there are some mighty dark scenes in that movie as well.

The next most popular movie choice was Miracle on 34th Street. Look hard at Kris Kringle’s Foley Square trial scenes. If it looks vaguely familiar, it’s because in the movie The Godfather, those are the same steps where Barzini is murdered.

Interestingly, the comedy Christmas Vacation came in third. This was the last film for Mae Questal who played Aunt Bethany. She started her career as the voice of the cartoon character Betty Boop in 1931, then voiced Olive Oyl starting in 1933 in the Popeye series of cartoons. And in the movie, look closely at the kid playing Rusty. He’s actually Johnny Galecki, who went on to become a megastar as Leonard Hofstadter in the series Big Bang Theory.

Some honorable mentions in the poll were White Christmas, Holiday Inn, Christmas Story, Polar Express, Elf, Bells of St. Mary’s, Mixed Nuts, Home Alone, and Nightmare Before Christmas.

Other than A Christmas Carol and the Bible, the only other literary vote was cast by my daughter-in-law, Gillian. She says, “There’s a series of children’s books by Graham Oakley about church mice. I’ve always loved Church Mice at Christmas. The written story is entertaining, but the illustrations are what really ties everything together. My mother and I would spend hours looking through the book, finding little nuances and clues about what will happen next.”

Gillian hits it on the head when she talks about how she and her mother bonded over that story. Perhaps that’s why we have favorite holiday stories and movies. We have warm memories of sharing them with our families and friends. Tearing up a little when a bell rings and an angel gets his wings or laughing our butts off when Cousin Eddie shows up unannounced and uninvited at the front door.

So, step away from your Work in Progress, close your laptop, pour yourself some eggnog and spend some time with people you love. Happy Holiday and Merry Christmas!

'Tis the Season

The season that comes at the end of every semester. Today I have research papers coming in from one class while responding to the other about comments on their drafts of the papers due on Monday. In between the deadline for submission of one set of papers, I need to attend a meeting on our main campus.

In my first post next year (can you believe it's about to be 2020?), I will try to make up for not lingering here today. But the topic that comes to mind today is how the seasons -- the weeks --- the days -- even the hours affect my ability to write. Except in summer and the "intersession" that we are about to begin between the fall and spring semesters, I rarely sit down and write every day. I have learned to use the times when I can't to make notes, think through structure, and live in the world of my characters

Being away from my computer gives me time to work through the book or short story. With less time, I think I am more efficient than when I have long days to write.

Does anyone else find the same?

Wishing you all a joyful and stress-free season of the year!

How Could You! Or The Perils of Writing a Spin-off Series.

The Wrong Girl, the first book of my new series, The Adventures of Bianca Dangereuse, has been out for a month now, and let me tell you, it's been interesting. The main character in The Wrong Girl, Bianca LaBelle (nee Blanche Tucker) is a spin-off from my previous 10 book series, the Alafair Tucker Mysteries. Blanche/Bianca is one of Alafair's younger daughters, and was featured as a child in The Wrong Hill to Die On (the double “wrongs” are a coincidence...) While she was growing up in Oklahoma, one of many children in a warm, loving family, Blanche was a sweet little kid, smart and pretty. So pretty, in fact, that Alafair was a little worried about what that might mean when she grew up.

As it turned out, Alafair was right to be worried. At fifteen, naive, headstrong Blanche ran away from home with a guy who promised to marry her and put her in the movies, but turned out to be the worst kind of predator. Fortunately, Blanche is as resourceful as she is beautiful, so she manages to escape, and with a lot of luck and a lot of help, she does manage to get to Hollywood and eventually becomes a big star. But for nearly a year after she runs away, she does nothing to contact her mother to let her at least know she's alive and well. She's ashamed, she's afraid, she's half-way excited about the adventure and doesn't want to be hauled back home to face the music. In short, she's fifteen.

I've gotten quite a number of wonderful reviews and fan letters about the new book, but I've also gotten a few letters that basically say How Could You Do That to Alafair! I'm sure that there are readers out there who had the same reaction but didn't write to scold me. Well, let me say that I worried about this before I started writing. The Dangereuse books are quite different than the Alafairs, and not nearly as warm and loving. It's a whole new world. I asked my husband, “If I write it this way, will I alienate some of the readers who love Alafair?”

My husband said, “Yes.” He was right.

But let me assure you all, grown-up Bianca is really sorry about what she did to her parents, and she does make a great effort to make amends. By the time she's famous, she and her folks are very close. I'm glad some of you are so invested in Alafair's feelings! But everything will turn out all right. I promise!

Books make the perfect gift

I love this discussion about books as perfect gifts. There is an endless variety of them - one for every taste and age and skill - and unlike most useful gifts these days, they won't bankrupt you. In my own family, we have two different traditions. My children and I celebrate Hanukah, but since none of them live in the same city as me and they only get the usual Christmas holiday time off work, we choose one of those days as our family Hanukah celebration. With any luck it falls on an actual Hanukah night, as it does this year, but otherwise we add a "Fradkin's Famous Ninth Night of Hanukah". We have always exchanged gifts on that night.

My extended family - sister, brother, nephews, nieces, and families - all lives in the area and we have been getting together for Christmas dinner since forever. Over the years, the families have proliferated, adding in-laws and next generations, so that now we are quite a big crowd both for Hanukah and Christmas. It's becoming an epic challenge to come up with affordable gifts. So some time ago we turned the Christmas event into a book exchange. It's brilliant. Each of us buys one book, wraps it, and puts it under the tree. When it's our turn to pick, we can choose to steal a book from someone else or take a wrapped one from under the tree. Some books are stolen several times.

This way people usually end up with a book they might at least vaguely want to read. Horsetrading and a lively discussion about each book's merits occur as well. Some books are duplicates, particularly award winners or books with buzz. Current political books are always hot, and there is a varied selection of both fiction and non-fiction.

When the children are small, they get books of their own from each of us, but the teenagers get to participate in the free-for-all.

I always have fun picking the book I plan to contribute, and this year I know exactly what I'm going to buy. Off to my favourite independent bookstore to buy it! I expect it to cause some merriment.

Book gift-giving

by Rick Blechta

I really enjoyed Aline’s post yesterday. Hope you did too. If you didn’t get a chance to read it, please Click Here.

I love giving — and receiving — books at Christmas. I will generally read anything, so if someone wants to giving me reading material, there isn’t a “don’t bother getting him this” list to go by. The field is wide open! (Actually, that’s not true. DO NOT give me an e-book.)

However, when buying books for another person, I really focus on buying something that will give a lot of enjoyment. That can be tricky.

This year, I’m only giving four books since the “adults” have decided to forego gift-giving. The books will be going to our grandchildren and two of our grandnieces/nephews. But even for children at various stages of reading development, it is a tricky process.

Our granddaughter is very much into “repeat enjoyment” of books. Whenever she’s over for her weekly visit, she goes to the shelf containing her books, takes her favourites out one by one and leafs through them. We also have some books that includes sounds/recordings — press a button and they play — but they’re also somewhat fragile, so Grandma or Grandpa have to read those with her. She always indicates when she’s ready for that to take place — she’s not really talking yet — and we love nothing better than to put her on our laps and let he turn pages and play her favourite sounds repeatedly.

Our grandson is now reading (quite well!), so he’s a different problem. We want something he can read to us, but tht he’ll also want to read on his own. Hmmm…

Our grandniece is turning seven shortly, so her reading skills are even more advanced. We’re just trying to figure this one out and may have to query her parents before coming to a decision. She’ll get a book she can enjoy on her own. I’d love nothing more than to give her “The best book I ever read!”

I always keep books I’ve received as gifts and at this point the shelf is quite impressive. It goes all the way back to the first book my mom ever gave me. There are probably a few missing along the way, or ones that had to be replaced because they’d been read so many times they were falling apart. But all are treasured.

So, from my point of view, giving gifts of reading is something to be taken seriously. There is nothing grander than to hear maybe months after that the person to whom I gave a book really enjoyed it.

That’s a wonderful thing indeed.

Improving Literature

One Christmas it was dressing-gowns. I don't know how it happened, but without consultation everyone seemed to have thought, 'I know - I'll get them a dressing-gown.' I still have a photo somewhere of five of us in a line-up flaunting them over our Christmas party best.

This year, I think it's going to be books. From the whispers I hear I don't think I'm going to be the only one who's decided books are the answer for Christmas 2019, and looking at the gaily-wrapped parcel my sister-in-law left with us in October – yes, she does that every year – I reckon it isn't a football.

When you get to our stage in life, when we've accumulated so much that the gift of another little knick-knack, however charming, isn't really going to be greeted with more than a wan smile as the parcel is opened, books are definitely the answer. It's usually not too hard to know what people's taste in books is and even if they are in the habit of buying what they like for themselves, most will wait for the paperback and having the brand-new hardback for Christmas is a luxury.

Of course,other motives beside careful and sympathetic choice can come into play. When my son gave my husband, a political biography freak, a biography of one of his own heroes knowing that his father didn't like him at all, it definitely came into the category of 'improving literature'. (He read it and enjoyed the book but it certainly didn't change his opinion.)

That was a great phrase in my youth. 'Improving literature' was the sort of book that would wean you off the other category, 'trash' and usually made your heart sink even though you might later see the point – though it could also have the opposite effect. My father gave me half-a-crown to read Walter Scott's Ivanhoe and I did it, but I've never read another one.

Which brings me on to the subject of my bookworm oldest granddaughter, aged 13. She has said she would like some 'classic' books for Christmas and I'm keen that my choice for her won't have that effect. Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice haven't grabbed her (she wants to be an astronaut) but she's been known to express an interest in 1984.

So, advice, please! I'm thinking along the lines of Animal Farm, Brave New World, Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, perhaps even 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. What are the books that really snared your interest at that age and perhaps even shaped your reading habits for ever afterwards?

The Mesdames of Mayhem

Today I am delighted to welcome as our weekend guests the inspirational group of crime short story writers who call themselves The Mesdames of Mayhem. Initially based in the Toronto area, this group of women have made their own luck and their own success, and have a story to share! Take it away, ladies.

When Madeleine Harris-Callway announced to our writers’ group in early 2013 that she was forming a crime fiction writers’ collective, our ears pricked up. We knew the power of writers working with other writers. I had already done some online networking, but a collective of writers who lived in close proximity meant we could promote one another in person as well as online.

We called ourselves the Mesdames of Mayhem, and we started out small: the six women in the writers’ group and eight other women writers in the Greater Toronto Area. None of us were big-name authors, although several were winners of or finalists for major crime fiction awards. We started giving talks at libraries and book clubs, telling audiences why we write crime fiction and what we write.

And we plotted our first crime fiction anthology. The idea was that each Madame would have a story in the collection, as well as her biography, a complete list of her works, and links to her website. The anthology would serve as our calling card, giving samples of each author’s writing and telling readers where to find her other works. Titled Thirteen to mark the year of its release, the collection was published in October 2013 by Carrick Publishing run by Donna Carrick, a member of the collective. 

Thirteen did very well. Three of its 15 stories were nominated for major awards. Donna’s watermelon Weekend” and Sylvia Maultash Warsh’s “The Emerald Skull” were finalists for the Arthur Ellis Best Short Story award. My story, “The Sweetheart Scamster,” was a Derringer Award finalist. The Mesdames subsequently released three more collections, all with the numeral 13—our lucky number—in their titles. 13 O’Clock came out in 2015; its 15 tales of crime all contained elements of time. Madeleine’s “Glow Grass,” was short-listed for the Arthur Ellis Best Novella award.

13 Claws followed in 2017; its 17 stories featured animals—and dragons and snakes. This collection did extremely well. Three stories were nominated for the AE Short Story award: Catherine Astolfo’s “The Outlier,” Jane Petersen Burfield’s “There Be Dragons” and Sylvia’s “The Ranchero’s Daughter.” “The Outlier” went on to win the Arthur Ellis, Crime Writers of Canada’s top award for short fiction. Madeleine earned another nomination for the AE Best Novella award with her noir tale “Snake Oil.” And Catherine and Sylvia’s stories were both mentioned in Otto Penzler’s The Best American Mystery Stories of 2018.

The success of 13 Claws will be tough to beat, but our fingers are crossed for our fourth anthology. In the Key of 13 was released this October, and its theme is music. It has already received a thumbs-up from Jack Batten, the Toronto Star’s crime fiction reviewer. “One of the book’s appeals,” he wrote in his Oct. 16 review, “lies in the often ingenious ways the writers sneak Mozart or the Beach Boys or ‘Turandot’ into the plots.” 

The Mesdames’ anthologies have taken on lives of their own, but there is more to the collective than these four books. We’ve expanded to 21 members, including three men. And we’ve moved outside the GTA, with members in Fort McMurray, Alta., and Ottawa. Best of all are the ways in which individual mesdames and messieurs have lent their unique skills to the group. Donna has given us her publishing expertise. Veteran journalist Ed Piwowarczyk has edited the last three anthologies. Catherine Dunphy has scouted out venues where we can meet readers. Lynne Murphy, Marilyn Kay and Rosalind Place have worked their magic on our website. And Madeleine has kept us focused and committed.  

There really is power in writers working together, and the Mesdames have tried to pay it forward by holding two story contests for unpublished crime fiction writers. The winning stories were included in our last two anthologies: Mary Patterson’s “Night Vision” in 13 Claws, and Blair Keetch’s “A Contrapuntal Duet” in In the Key of 13.

Earlier this year, Toronto filmmaker Cat Mills was intrigued by a notice announcing a panel discussion by the Mesdames at a Toronto Public Library branch. She attended it. “These women were so interesting and vivacious and courageous,” she told CBC.ca. “They didn’t seem scared of anything. They were confident and excited and curious.”

Cat and CBC producer Felicity Justrabo interviewed the Mesdames as they worked on In the Key of 13. The result was a short documentary, The Mesdames of Mayhem, currently airing on CBC Gem.

“They are pursuing their dreams,” Cat said. “It’s hard to make it as an author. But they keep at it because it [the Mesdames of Mayhem] has given the women a community and a creative outlet.”

 The Mesdames of The Mesdames of Mayhem are 21 Canadian writers who share one deadly mission: to thrill readers with their passion for crime fiction. Several Mesdames are winners of or finalists for major crime fiction awards. The Mesdames--and Messieurs--are: Catherine Astolfo, Rosemary Aubert, Jane Petersen Burfield, Melodie Campbell, Donna Carrick, Lisa de Nikolits, Catherine Dunphy, Cheryl Freedman, Madeleine Harris-Callway, Marilyn Kay, Blair Keetch, Rosemary McCracken, Cat Mills, Lynne Murphy, Mary Patterson, Ed Piwowarczyk, Rosalind Place, Madona Skaff, Caro Soles, Kevin Thornton and Sylvia Maultash Warsh.

A Fine Bar for Dogs

I've spent many happy hours listening my daughter Michele's band, the Trucker's Daughter. But a couple of Sundays ago I had the pleasure of hearing her in a really unusual bar--the Soul Squared Brewing Company. It was a haven for dogs. 

Michele's fabulous guitar player, Josh Long, invited her to accompany him and what a performance it was. 

Talk about dog heaven! The bar was like a dog park. 

This certificate is very coveted recognition. Not every little doggie makes the grade.

There was a best-selling book several years ago: The Tender Bar. The bar the author described served as a parent during his childhood. What a great topic. I would love to know the story behind Soul Squared. 

Love and inspiration is where you find it. 

Knowing your audience(s)

I’m caught between two projects right now: I'm trying to finish a novel that I've waded into 50,000-words deep, and I'm trying to write the pilot script for a would-be TV series based on said novel. My agent is awaiting the book, and a producer and an agent are waiting on the script. Of course, both are written on spec. (It wouldn’t be a mid-lister’s life, if they weren’t, after all.)

But something interesting happened on the way to the completion of both: I realized I'm writing for two different audiences.

The book, it seems to me, is written for an audience of mystery readers. People like me, I assume. People who want to find a new series, new characters, a new setting, and fall in love all over again (and hopefully buy this book and many more in the series). The book features a husband-and-wife team, and we move with them, learning about their lives together and apart, their struggles to raise a set of twin boys (one with a severe stutter) and a hyper-socially conscious daughter. We follow them on their journey to the solution of the crime. This is, first and foremost, a book I would want to read –– which is why I'm writing it.

The script, though it features the same husband and wife team, is dominated by the young people in the story. I knew it had to be as soon as the teenagers started talking. I went to a boarding school and now work at one. I know the pressures these kids face, know how they talk, and I know what they watch on Netflix. I also know that if the POV is to bounce around, as it must in the script, the kids can –– and will –– steal the show, so I’m going to let them.

All of this has produced an interesting lesson for me –– a lesson in audience awareness. The storyline for the script had to shift away from the novel’s plot. The script veered off the tracks of my outline as soon as the kids climbed aboard. Once they did, I knew we had left my favorite crime writers at the door. This was more Gossip Girl than The Long Goodbye.

All I do but try to keep all of it straight in my head, go along for the ride(s), and keep plugging away.

It's The Journey

It’s Hallmark Christmas movie time once again. I’ve watched my share of them over the last few years after my sister got me hooked. Some I really love, some I think are just okay. But I always know what I’m getting with them. The couple always gets together and any other issues that come up are resolved in a positive manner.

I’ve heard some people complain that they’re too formulaic, too predictable and you always know the ending when you start. I suspect that’s why a lot of people watch them, because they know things will turn out okay in the end. For me, they’re a nice respite after watching grittier TV shows where things don’t always turn out as I want and favorite characters die.

It doesn’t matter to me that I know the basic ending. For me, these stories are all about the journey. How do they get together? What obstacles do they encounter that could keep them apart? Is it an interesting setting or an intriguing idea?

A recent one I watched, Write Before Christmas, had an interesting premise—at least to me. The woman’s boyfriend broke up with her a couple weeks before Christmas. She’d bought him 5 cards to send to him during the holiday period. So, instead of throwing them away, she sent each one to someone who’d been important in her life and told them how much they meant to her: her music teacher, the boy band member whose music had gotten her through tough times in adolescence, her best friend, her brother and her aunt who’d taken the two of them in after their parents died. The movie was about how those people were affected by receiving the cards. And, of course, there was romance.

I have a similar attitude toward cozy mysteries. They aren’t quite as predictable as Hallmark movies, but one hallmark(!) of them is that the killer is identified at the end and brought to justice and the world is righted once more. It doesn’t bother me if I can figure out who did it before the end of the story (this isn’t always the case, btw). I just enjoy the journey that brings me to the unmasking of the killer.

I used to fret a whole lot about how to hide the killer in my own books, but not so much anymore. I know there will be those who figure it out right away and those who don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I still am saddened when the former happens and I mentally pump my fists in the air when it’s the latter.

What’s really most important to me now is the reader’s journey. I try to set scenes in interesting places with interesting and fun characters and to put in twist and turns that surprise people. Because I think for a whole lot of readers, including me, it’s all about the journey.

End of book depression

by Rick Blechta

First, let me set you straight what I’m referring to here. This post is not about being depressed when you’ve finished writing a book, but finished reading a particularly good book.

Obviously there is some connection between the two things. One point of conjunction is the fact that you won’t be hanging around with these very interesting people any longer. If you’re a writer, of course you can begin to craft a new story for your characters and just carrying on being with them. If you’re a reader, you’re at the whim of the author (or publisher), plus if you’re reading a current series, you know there’s going to be a wait of most likely a year of more.

And that’s depressing if the novel and characters you’ve just finished enjoying is particularly good.

Fortunately, the depression doesn’t last long. In my case, it’s generally just a few hours, but it is actual depression.

I’ve been down with a particularly bad cold the past week, with the result that I’ve been staying indoors and allowing myself to just relax and focus on getting better —Christmas season being what it is for musicians (lots of gigs) and get-togethers with friends and such.

So I went over to my favourite bookstore, the excellent Sleuth of Baker Street, and bought some novels by my favourite authors who thoughtfully released books in time for the Christmas season.

I finished a Peter Robinson novel yesterday, and as always, he didn’t disappoint. It was excellent. As I lay the book down for the last time, a strong wave of sadness filled me. I couldn’t hang out with Peter’s invisible friends until the next book is published. Bummer that!

My question is this: am I weird or are there others out there who get depressed when they have just enjoyed a particularly good book?

Storytelling—Casablanca Style

One of my favorite films, Casablanca, turned 77 on November 26. Whenever it’s on television, I never miss it. But what about it leads me to watch it over and over again? We do the same thing with movies like It’s a Wonderful Life and the Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind.

Is it the nostalgia? Possibly.

Or is it because they check off all the right storytelling boxes?

Let’s stick with Casablanca. Our protagonist is the mysterious owner of a café in a very dangerous, exotic location against the backdrop of World War II. Our hero, or anti-hero, is Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart), a man with a dark past. He’s known to have run guns to Ethiopia during its war with Italy and to have fought with the Loyalists during the Spanish Civil War. But something in his past has made him bitter, unwilling to take sides. He says, “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

And yet, we see a soft side of Rick when the randy opportunist Captain Renault (Claude Rains) offers to trade letters of transit to a young couple, newlyweds and refugees, for sex. Okay, it’s never actually said out loud in the film, but it was 1933, and we know what Renault wants. Rick lets the husband win at roulette, allowing them enough cash to buy their way to safety.

Casablanca comes with a fabulous MacGuffin. A MacGuffin is an object or a device in a book or a movie that moves the plot forward but is largely irrelevant. In this case, it’s the letters of transit that the creepy Ugarte has stolen from two murdered Nazis. Ugarte is played by Peter Lorre and nobody does creepy any better than him.

The Germans are hot on his trail and he begs Rick to take the letters of transit and hide them until he can come back safely to retrieve them. They’re worth a fortune on the black market. Ugarte is arrested and eventually dies in captivity. In the words of Renault, “I’m making out the report now. We haven’t quite decided whether he committed suicide or died trying to escape.”

The letters of transit are papers allowing their bearer to move about Nazi occupied Europe. They are the key to getting to a neutral country and safety

Enter the love interest. Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) is part of Rick’s dark history. She thought that her freedom fighter husband had died in a concentration camp and Ilsa had fallen in love with Rick. On the day that the Germans stormed into Paris, Rick and Ilsa were supposed to meet at the train station and leave for a safe haven. Rick waited at the train station in vain, never knowing why Ilsa never showed up, why she had forsaken him.

It wasn’t war that had made Rick bitter, it was lost love.

When she arrives in Casablanca, it is with her husband, alive and well, having escaped the concentration camp. Her husband, Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) is a famed Czech resistance fighter, someone the Germans want badly to get their hands on again.

Lazlo and Ilsa need letters of transit to find their way to neutral Portugal and time to organize their fight against the Nazis. They need the letters of transit that Rick has in his possession.

So let’s review what we have here in this storytelling process. We have Casablanca, an exotic location in a dangerous part of the world during World War II. We have a strong, taciturn, hero who is reluctant to help anyone but himself. We have Rick’s former love, Ilsa, torn between her feelings for Rick and her love and loyalty that she has for her husband. We have Lazlo, who desperately wants to get his wife to safety but also to fight the Germans.

And then we have the bad guys. Captain Renault is part of the Vichy police force but willing to play both sides of the fence. But the actual villain is Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt) willing to go any length to, once again, take Lazlo into custody.

And percolating behind the story is the tension between the French, yearning for their freedom, and the Nazis. One of the most stirring scenes of the film takes place when a group of Nazis gather around the piano at Rick’s Café and loudly sing “Deutschland Uber Alles”. Disgusted by what he hears, Victor Lazlo leads the band and the rest of the bar in singing “La Marseillaise”. It’s a duel of national anthems that the Nazis lose.

The story arc is nearly perfect. In the end, the bitter loner has regained his humanity and his patriotism. He proves his love to Ilsa by allowing her to leave with her husband, after she's tried to make a deal with Rick for the letters, telling him that she'd stay in Casablanca and leave her husband.

I won't tell you how the movie ends, although I'm sure anyone who's reading this has seen the film a dozen times. But for me, as schmaltzy as it is, I thought it was the perfect way to tie things up.

And finally, the movie has some of the most memorable lines in movie history. My favorite? “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Play it Sam.

The Passage of Time

I'm late today because I "slept late" and only woke when Harry, my cat, began to meow outside my closed bedroom door. His stomach and the daylight had obviously told him that it was time for me to get up, brush, and feed him. The curious thing is that with daylight saving time, Harry, who is usually up and meowing between 8 and 9 in summer (because I am up late and he eats a bedtime snack) is now napping until between 10 and 11. Sometimes, when he is in my bedroom, he wakes up, notices that I am awake but not getting up, and cleans himself and goes back to sleep.

I'm writing about my cat and time because I wonder how it is to experience 24 hours if you are a cat (or a dog). What is it like to spend so much time napping? When we, who love our animals look at them and regret the speed with which the time with them seems to pass, do they have the same sense of time passing. Does my cat, Harry, who is now officially a senior at 13 years of age feel as if he has aged when he dashes through the house with even more glee than he did four years ago because he is much more "at home" than when I adopted him? Does he know about time passing when he plays like a kitten, chasing his own tail around and around? Maybe it's because of his breed, a Maine Coon mix, and how they age (or don't).

I'm thinking about all this because I had a birthday this month, and I've been pondering the passage of time. But I've also been thinking about cultural history and fiction. I woke up and headed to the computer this morning to do research because I've been thinking about the everyday lives of my characters in 1939. In my thriller, they are on the move -- traveling frequently by train because my protagonist is a Pullman sleeping car porter. Another character  is traveling back and forth between Georgia, where he lives on a plantation that his grandfather purchased before the Civil War. This character is involved in the state's preparation for the opening of the 1939 World's Fair in New York That fair is themed "the world of tomorrow." Another character migrates from a small city in Virginia to Harlem in New York City. And a fourth character moves from a summer home in northern Virginia to Nantucket. How do these characters experience time and place? Do they walk faster in New York City as I do when I go there from Albany? Or, did people in New York City walk slower in 1939?

With none of our modern technology-- mobile phones, Internet, television (debuting in 1939 at the World's Fair), are my characters really unplugged? Was radio an inherently slower experience? Or. were 1930s movies with chase scenes the equivalent experience of our chase scenes?

What about cooking with 1939 appliances? By virtue of technology, "slow cooking?"

I woke up and did a deep dive into a database called "America: History and Life" to see if anyone had written an article about this. What came up first was a wonderful book review in the February 1, 2013 issue of History & Theory by a scholar named Brian Fay. He calls his review "Hammer Time," a title that made me smile because it seemed a tongue-in-cheek reference to the performer who now does commercials. But the review is of a 2011 book by Espen Hammer in which Hammer examined what various philosophers had to say that might be relevant to our modern sense of time. Hammer, who Fay describes as a man of reason, takes as a given that we now perceive the passage of time as "a series of present moments each indefinitely leading to the next in an ordered way," We measure time by the clock. This allows us to have technological breakthroughs, but at the same time we have problems of "transience and memory."

In his review of Hammer's book, Fay was thoughtful and poetic in describing how he himself experiences time. He noted that as he watched his daughter running down the hall after her bath, he experienced time not only as moving forward toward the next moments of putting her to bed, but backward in time to when she was younger. Fay argues that any moment can be filled with "the what is, that what might-have-been, the what-will-be, the what has been, and the what was." These experiences reflect our perceptions, memories, expectations, hopes, fears, and regrets. Because of this, Fay argues, modern time seems to him to be "fundamentally multidimensional." And he wonders if there is any period (at least in modern history) when time hasn't been experienced in this way. How is the way T.S. Eliot perceives time in "Burnt Norton" and "Dry Salvages" differ from Shakespeare's Macbeth when he refers to "the petty pace from day to day" that lead to "dusty death " (Act 5, Scene 5, 19-28).

I know this may be a writer's dive "down the rabbit hole" of research. But I'm fascinated by this subject and I'm going to spend a bit of "my precious time" reading about it. I suspect that if I can grasp the sensory experience of the passage of time in 1939 (another period of uncertainty and anxiety but without the modern technology) than my book will be all the better for my deep dive.

Harry is awake again and after meowing and poking me with his paws to get my attention, he has stretched out beside my chair to remind me that it is time for his lunch. His stomach has told him that it is time, no need for a clock.

I look at the clock and realize half my day is already gone. Would I have experienced that in 1939? And if 40 is the new 30 now, what was it like then?

Harry's meowing. Got to go. 

Happy Thanksgiving

Impossible Pumpkin Pie

It's Thanksgiving Day in the States, so instead of writing about writing today, I'm going to write about pie. On top of that, I'm going to gift you all with my mother's wonderful Impossible Pumpkin Pie recipe, below, which is easy as pie (as it were). There are several kinds of "impossible" pies that make their own crust, but this is a good one for the holidays.

For the past several years, Thanksgiving has been something of a problem for Don and me, since we (mainly he) have so many dietary restrictions. We've been vegetarian for the past thirty-five years, though I've relaxed my meatlessness a lot lately when I'm not at home. Sometimes it's just too much trouble to ask what is in the soup. On top of that, Don is supposed to avoid too many oxalates, so no greens, rhubarb, strawberries, or beans. Since his cancer operation, no refined sugar or pure fruit juices, either, and certainly no artificial sweeteners. Stevia is all right, if it's pure stevia leaf and no dextrose.

Have you ever tried to make a non-pumpkin, non-sugar pumpkin pie? Believe it or not, it can be done. Don has become an expert stevia-sweetened pastry chef. He can make a "pumpkin" pie out of pureed butternut squash and stevia which I defy you to tell the difference between it and the real thing. It's the spices that make the pie, I think.

Substituting squash for pumpkin is no big deal, anyway. Ever tried sweet potato pie? My grandmother used to make pies out of the most unlikely ingredients. Whatever she had on hand. Apple cider vinegar pie tastes like apples. One of my favorites was her Ritz cracker pies. I haven't had that since...well, practically forever. The crackers dissolved into a pudding-like consistency. I don't know how she did it.

But this is the real thing:

The following recipe is for the easiest and most amazing pumpkin pie ever made. This is my mother’s recipe, and I’m presenting it here exactly as she wrote it down.
3/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup biscuit mix (such as Bisquick)
1 can (16 oz) pumpkin
2 tsp. butter
2 1/2 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
1 can (13 oz.) evaporated milk
2 tsp. vanilla
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease 9 inch pie pan. Beat all ingredients until smooth. Pour into pan. Bake until knife inserted in center comes out clean, 50-55 minutes.
(No, you don’t make a crust. The pie will make its own crust.)

Catching those silly words

On Monday I sent off the revised manuscript of THE ANCIENT DEAD to my editor, well ahead of the deadline. The revisions included some substantive changes based on his suggestions, some story changes I came up with on my own, and some minor tweaking and polishing. Do we ever stop editing our work? Every time I read over a section, I find things to tweak. Delete that unnecessary word, add another for greater clarity, change a word for one that flows better, or for an elegant variation as Aline described in her post this week. In fact, even once the book is published and been on the shelf for ages, I've been known to tweak phrases on the fly when I do readings, wishing I'd noticed that silly word choice earlier.

At a certain point, the tweaking has to stop. It's time to send the manuscript on its way and let others have their way with it. With fresh eyes, the copy editors and proofreaders come up with different improvements, and by the time the book gets to the printers, it is the most polished it can be. Except for that silly word that gets changed at every reading.

The last edit I do before I send the manuscript off is to run it through a series of mind-numbingly dull but crucial filters. I don't have any fancy apps that tell me I've used the word 'possibly' five hundred and eleven times in three hundred pages. I don't have an app to tell me my character has 'rolled their eyes' at least once in every chapter. Or drummed their fingers, or whatever verbal tic I am currently fond of. I am more aware of these now, so possibly I catch myself before my character rolls his eyes, but maybe some new tics creep in instead. And then there are the very useless words that just seem to pop into a sentence because I am on automatic pilot.

That's where the filters come in. For this, lacking a fancy app, I use good, old-fashioned "Find next". I type in the word I want to catch and then plow through the manuscript instance by instance, deciding whether I need that word or not, and deleting as many as possible. Because I don't want to catch all the embedded words like every, or justice, I have to do the search several times with a space preceding it and a period or comma afterwards. When you put as many just's into three hundred pages as I do, it takes a while. That takes even longer.

After that I tackle the adverbs. This involves typing ly followed by a space into the Find function and then wading through the adverbs that clutter the page, along with an awful lot of only's and family's,  but that can't be helped. Each adverb has to be considered on its merits and either spared, deleted, or replaced with a single punchier word. Then I repeat the whole exercise with comma and period after the ly.

Now the manuscript is almost ready. It only needs a final spellcheck. In my case, in the matter of hyphenated words, my Spellcheck happened to disagree with the manual of style being followed by my publisher, so I had to ignore all the times Spellcheck told me to fix coworker or reestablish.

After that, I press send and off it goes, out of my hands. And I go to the fridge, where the wine is already chilling. Perhaps I walk the dogs first, because that boring filter process can take a few hours and they and their bladders are running out of patience. But in the end, there is wine. Probably chocolate too.

I'm curious to know what editing apps and tricks other authors use to catch those pesky little phrases and words that the brain just glosses over when we reread our pages. If there is a cheap, easy fix for an old Luddite like me, I'll happily try it.

Spam comments on Type M

by Rick Blechta

The time has come to do something about spam comments on our blog. I use “our” here because I (for one) consider Type M for Murder to be a big family.

However, like every family, we have “troublesome relatives.” I’m referring to that odious segment of humanity known as spammers. These people come to our blog to sell things or tell you about things that they want to sell you. They troll their way through blog pages like ours and leave their copy & paste messages, hoping to attract more business.

I’m sure the vast majority of people visiting Type M don’t bother to click on the links left behind by spammers, but it certainly does degrade your experience seeing all these messages.

I handle the moderation of our web page, and I’m constantly checking comments to remove spam. This past weekend, I happened to look back to some older blog posts (and don’t forget, Type M goes back to 2006!) and found hundreds of spam comments that have been left long after the posts were published. It took me several hours to purge them all. To say the least, I’m completely fed up.

Sooooo, beginning right now, ALL COMMENTS on Type M will be checked before they are posted. I will do my very best to review comments as quickly as I can and upload them. I suspect that this alone will cut down on spam comments right out of the box because these Odious Creatures will see that there is no hope.

I think I speak for everyone when I say that I’m sorry this has come to pass. Believe me, it’s a huge pain in the neck for me, but the Type M crew all want your experience here at our blog to be a lovely one, and spam doesn’t help that. Some recent spam messages have been quite appalling.

This DOES NOT mean that comments will be censored in any way. Good discussion often involves disagreement, and we do want to encourage good, vigorous discussion. The ONLY reason a comment will not be posted is because it is spam.

Thank you for your understanding!

Elegant Variation

Mario's mention of 'purple prose' reminded me of a linked subject I'd been meaning to write about – elegant variation.

I don't know whether the dislike of repetition is instinctive or instilled but I know that whatever I'm writing, using the same word twice in close proximity – unless deliberately – sets off a little warning buzzing in my head. It makes me uncomfortable, even if I'm just writing a quick email to a friend. And certainly it's something my copy editor pounces on if I've slipped up.

The danger is that it's so easy to go too far the other way, when the effort not to repeat puts the language through terrible contortions. It was HW Fowler, author of The King's English – the bible for classic English style – who introduced the phrase 'elegant variation'. Garner's Modern American Usage suggested that it should be rechristened 'inelegant usage', misunderstanding the ironic tone of Fowler's comment – 'elegant' implied 'pretentious.'

There are some wonderful examples, particularly in newspapers. At the Guardian newspaper they are known as 'povs' after a hapless journalist, trying to avoid repetition when he was writing about carrots, described them as 'the popular orange vegetable.' It went along with another where 'the elongated yellow fruit' was used to describe - well, I hardly need to tell you, do I?

Once you start looking out for it you see it everywhere. I found an article about the emperor who was later termed 'His Majesty' and then called 'the monarch.' (See what I did there?) Sports writing does it a lot – you get the guy's name, then it'll be 'the midfielder' or 'the star scorer' or 'the bearded player' – I could go on and on.

This approach is apparently particularly popular in France. A humorist explained, 'In an article about Gaston Deferre, it's OK to say Deferre once. So next you say the mayor of Marseilles. Then the Minister of Planning. Then, the husband of Esmonde. Then Gastounet, and then ... well then you stop talking about him because you don't know what to call him next.'

My favorite, though, was the report about a pet rat that was so fat it got stuck in an opening. In the course of the article, it became 'the rotund rodent', 'the furry fatso', 'the chubby pet', the well-upholstered mammal'. After that, I suppose the reporter just had to stop talking about it because, as the humorist said, he didn't know what to call it next.

I still can't stop myself from trying to avoid repetition but it's a timely warning to be very, very careful.

Making a Better Human

After his time in Tombstone, Wyatt Earp and his common-law wife, Josephine Sarah Marcus, set out for Alaska, where they ran the Dexter Saloon. What intrigues me about this photo of their saloon is the humor, a hundred years after the fact, which still holds up.

Humor is an integral part of human nature, and though we are a civilization centuries old with many differences in customs, languages, and shared experiences, I'm amazed when jokes manage to transcend the ages. One of my favorites is from ancient China and discusses the origins of the house cat. The story is that cats had been sent by the Gods to watch over us, but the cats don't do a very good job of it because they sleep so much.

This interest about human character stems from panels at science-fiction conferences where we discussed future developments involving humans and high-technology. One favorite topic addressed the human-computer interface and potential changes to human biology. For example, connecting our brains directly to computers would allow us to access information from vast libraries and process that data at incredible speeds. The eventual goal would be "singularity," where every mind would be wired to the Internet to create one global super brain. What a schizophrentic mess that would be. Who would set the agenda? Proponents of that technology argue in purple prose that such a development should be hailed as the next step in human evolution. Homo-Google.

That ability would surely make us smarter. Right? And by extension, better. What's missing in this talk of becoming more advanced humans is any discussion about what truly makes us better. I've yet to see a software app that'll make anyone more honest. Or more empathetic. Or wiser. Conversely, I haven't seen an app that would prevent dishonesty, theft, treachery, or even murder. Human nature as expressed through humor, or doing good, or doing bad, won't change. To that end, here's one of my favorite quotes from Scripture, Job 5:7 Man was born into trouble just as surely as sparks fly upward. 

And that trouble is what keeps us crime writers busy.

Wrong Girl? Not by a Long Shot

My dear friend Donis Casey launched her new series this month. The Wrong Girl is the first title in the Bianca Dangereuse Hollywood Mysteries Series. It's a terrific way to slide into a new series without jettisoning all the readers who love her Alafair Tucker books.

I don't know if Donis composed the following or one of Poisoned Pen/Sourcebooks promotional whizzes came up with the following but it sure captures the transformation of Blanche Tucker in Bianca LaBelle:

Blanche Tucker longs to escape her drop-dead dull life in tiny Boynton, Oklahoma. Then dashing Graham Peyton roars into town. Posing as a film producer, Graham convinces the ambitious but naive teenager to run away with him to a glamorous new life. Instead, Graham uses her as cruelly as a silent picture villain. Yet by luck and by pluck, taking charge of her life, she makes it to Hollywood.
Six years later, Blanche has transformed into the celebrated Bianca LaBelle, the reclusive star of a series of adventure films, and Peyton's remains are discovered on a Santa Monica beach. Is there a connection? With all of the twists and turns of a 1920s melodrama, The Wrong Girl follows the daring exploits of a girl who chases her dream from the farm to old Hollywood, while showing just how risky—and rewarding—it can be to go off script.

Many established mystery writers have spun very successful series by plucking out a favorite character and spinning him or her off into a brand new adventure.

Here's wishing one of the most thoughtful contributors to Type M For Murder the very best of luck with the new series.

I can't wait to read it and really admire this skillful transition.