Puppies and Pandemic Road Trips

  By Thomas Kies

I was going to do a sequel to my blog “Recipe for a Thriller No One Would Believe” about the insurrection at the Capitol in Washington DC, but I just couldn’t.  It’s just all too sad and I’m embarrassed for our country over it. 

So, I’ll write about something much more fun.  Lilly, our Shih-tzu and my writing buddy, passed away in September.  No, that’s not the fun part.  That was heartbreaking. 

Starting in December, my wife Cindy began searching for a Shih-tzu rescue to come live with us.

The pandemic has created a remarkable demand for pet company and the results are that there is a shortage of rescue dogs available to adopt.  My wife worked hard at trying to find a rescue. 

Finally, Cindy found an adoption agency that was looking to place a two-year old Shih-tzu named Annie Willow that had been rescued after being abandoned at a kill shelter.  They vetted us and on Thursday they told us we could come meet the girl on Saturday morning in Charlotte, North Carolina.  That’s a five-hour drive from where we live.

We packed our bags and took off on Friday to stay overnight and then meet Annie Willow the next morning.  

Now, this was the first overnight trip we’ve taken since March, when the pandemic began its horrible march throughout the world.  Things have markedly changed.

Starting with choosing the hotel.  It used to be comfort, location, and price that was how we decided on where we’d stay.  Now it was how they disinfected their rooms.

Then it was the drive.  Before, I looked forward to stopping off while on our journey where we’ve never been for a leisurely lunch.  Now we packed our lunch before we left so we could eat in the car. 

We did stop once to get gasoline and use the restroom.  In the convenience store where we were, they weren’t selling coffee.  Another result of the pandemic. 

Once at the hotel, what few people who were guests, as well as employees, wore masks (thank heavens) and discourse was kept at a minimum.  Distance was observed.

Here’s where I want to say something about writing, since Type M is a blog about the process.  In particular, about writing dialogue.  I have always enjoyed listening in on conversations so I could catch both discourse and dialect.  Now, however, there’s little of that to eavesdrop on. And what I do hear sounds like little more than mumbling.  

Back to our trip.

It was no surprise that we discovered that the bar was closed at the hotel and the bistro where you could get breakfast was also shut down.  There would be no hotel waffles for us in the morning.

When it came to getting something for dinner, we called a nice Italian pizza place in the neighborhood and had dinner delivered at the hotel.  

The next morning, we met the representative from the adoption agency and the woman who had been Annie Willow’s foster mom.  Everyone wore masks.  I never saw their faces.  That seemed so sad.  I’m sure we were all smiling from ear to ear.

Although, when I asked how the foster mom was doing, she told me, “I’ll be crying in my car in a few minutes.  I’ll be missing Annie.”  It must be difficult to foster a puppy, loving it, knowing that if you’re successful, you’ll be handing it over to someone you don’t know.  It must be like losing a piece of your heart. 

It was also when we met Annie Willow, who’s a cutie with the energy of an overcaffeinated ferret. She is definitely going to keep Cindy and me on our toes. 

It was a bright spot in an otherwise abysmal week.  Two friends of ours tested positive for Covid-19.  One is in the hospital but recovering nicely and the other has had mild symptoms.  

Unfortunately, thousands of others are dying every single day.  Hospitals are stretched to the limit but vaccinations, while slow and chaotic, are coming.

And then, of course, there was the insurrection at the Capitol on Wednesday at the urging of a sitting President of the United States.  I never thought I’d ever write or say those words.  Never.

The nation is divided, the possibility of a second impeachment is imminent, and I fear for what could happen before the inauguration of a new President on January 20.

It’s no wonder so many of us have looked to the unconditional love of a puppy. 

One of Those Days

Well, it's one of those days after one of those weeks. I had a topic in mind for today's post, but life has intruded. My cat, Harry, has the sniffles -- has been sneezing all week -- and his vet is holding medication for him that I need to pick up before 4:30 today. 

Then I need to swing by (as go in and sit for hours) the hospital emergency room and get an evaluation. My doctor's office says there is no way to be sure on the telephone about whether bumping my head last night might require attention. Stupid accident -- I was trying to catch up on my work emails. It was late and I was sitting on the sofa, leaning forward over my laptop rather than sitting back against the cushions. After two late nights and early mornings, I dozed off. I woke up as I was falling sideways off the sofa, clutching my laptop. The top of my head lightly bumped my old-fashion radiator.

When I got up and after I had mopped up my spilled tea, I didn't have a headache or feel dizzy. I went to bed and to sleep. It's been over 12 hours, and I'm aware that I bumped my head because I'm paying attention. But still no headache or swelling. However, I have freaked myself out thinking of what might be going on in my skull. That was the reason for the conversation with the doctor's office.

That and the splendid idea that I had about using a similar, but fatal, accident in one of my books in progress. 

Never let a good mishap go to waste, right?

Does anyone else have a story about being in the midst of a real-life situation and thinking "This would be great in my book?"

I also have a puppy arriving to join the household on Sunday or Monday. He's coming on a pet delivery van. It should be an interesting few days.

Have a good weekend, everyone. And, please, try not to watch the news unless you're working on a thriller.

A Virtual Book Launch - Yea or Nay?

My plan for this entry is to write about virtual book launches. I am writing this on Jan. 6. I am depressed. I lived through the upheaval of the 60s and 70s. I was hoping I'd never have to go through such things again. There are so many things I could say about what is happening in Washington DC as I type. But I won't. I'll save my outrage for a more appropriate venue and continue on as if nothing is happening. Soooo.... Virtual book launching! 

February 2 is the day that my second Bianca Dangereuse novel, Valentino Will Die, will hit the shelves and the e-universe and the airwaves. The official launch during this pandemic year will be a Facebook Live virtual event hosted by Poisoned Pen Bookstore in Scottsdale Arizona! Which means that you can ALL come without traveling all the way to Arizona! The LIVE event will be on Facebook on January 30 at 4:00 p.m. Mountain Standard Time (That’s 6:00 Eastern, 5:00 Central, 3:00 Pacific. You’re welcome.) Click here to see all the information. If you can’t make the live event, never fear, the video will be available for viewing ever after at the Poisoned Pen site.

The old days - an in-person appearance!

Ten years ago, here on Type M, I (Donis) asked what you Dear Readers like or dislike about the performance when an author talks to an audience - what annoys you, or what makes you eager to read the author's book? I repeated the question on Facebook and on the DorothyL reader's forum, and I received dozens of interesting answers to my informal survey. My question for today is:

1. Do you as a reader attend virtual author appearances? If you do, what do you like about them and what do you not like?

2. Are you an author? If yes, what are your thoughts on virtual book events? Do you fear being nothing more than a talking head?

When I did the original survey about live author events, the top Dislike, mentioned by 25% of responders, was arrogance/pomposity in the speaker, or as K.B. put it, "if the writer comes across as one who is doing us all a favor by being there, but isn't really 'into' it."

(Personally, I don't mind if an author has a big ego. In fact, I think she probably ought to. Just don't push it in my face.)

Coming in at at a close second is panel-hogging. It annoys some folks no end when one panel member seems to become enamored of his own voice and won't let the others speak. (speaking on behalf of authors, here, I think most of us would second that.)

 Other pet peeves mentioned, in no order, were:

 Being unable to hear the speaker, or unable to hear questions directed to the speaker.

 Reading from the work and not interacting with the crowd.

 Salesmanship (I take this to mean hawking like a carnival barker.) P.B. says, "I don't want to be sold; I want to be befriended."

 An author not making eye-contact/being distant with someone who brings her copy of the author's book to be signed.

The number one Like, mentioned by almost half the respondents, is warmth and humor (though one respondent did say humor is fine but she doesn't come to hear a comedy routine)

 Also mentioned several times: Attendees like to hear about the writing process, the writer's life, where the ideas for the story/characters came from, the author's research experiences.

I, Donis, like wit, if it seems natural and not forced. I like it when the author seems to be enjoying herself. She will keep my interest if she has depth and passion about her work.

I've come away from many an author talk with warm feelings and a desire to read everything he ever wrote.

One of the best author events I ever attended years ago when Louise Penny appeared at our local library. She won us over from the first moment she walked in by shaking the hand of and personally introducing herself to everyone who had come out to see her. Her talk was intimate, personal, and joyful. I came away with the impression that this is a woman who is filled with love for her work and her life. Even if her books weren't as good as they are - and they are amazingly good - after seeing her in person I wanted to read everything she ever wrote at least twice.

This is a brave new world for all of us, so tell me, Dear Readers and Writers, what makes a successful virtual author event? Help us virtual book launchers out!

 

Onward into the unknown

 Like my fellow Type M'ers this past week (along with just about everyone on the planet), I am thrilled to boot 2020 out the door. More than boot it. I have set fire to it, sent it off into outer space on a rocket ship, and buried it in the deepest bowels of hell...

Okay Barbara, rein in the hyperboles. 

And like everyone, I tread cautiously into 2021, wary of the surprises it holds and unsure whether it's safe to hope. Don't jinx it, I say to myself, as if I have any power whatsoever to control what the Fates of 2021 have in store for us. As Douglas posted yesterday, we can only control what is within our own power to control. For me, the wheels of the publishing industry grind on and I am proceeding with my part in it. I am researching the next Amanda Doucette book prior to starting the actual writing. As part of that process, I optimistically booked flights and rental car for Vancouver Island for late May. But 2021 is already messing with me; the pandemic is at its worst yet and the vaccine rollout has been way too slow. I may have to postpone that trip for a few months and write much of the book without in-person research. But onward.

In February the edits of my latest Inspector Green novel, THE DEVIL TO PAY, will arrive back from my editor and I will have to switch gear to remember that story. I already know there will be changes because the pandemic hovers over everyone's lives, even in fiction. I had written the book as if the pandemic were over by the release date in October 2021. But maybe not.

Lastly I am hard at work planning the virtual launch of THE ANCIENT DEAD, a book written pre-pandemic and postponed because of it. It is finally being released at the end of January, in paperback, ebook, and audiobook. When I launched my first book in 2000, I remember printing address labels from my database, stuffing postcard invitations into envelopes, and licking stamps. 

How times have changed! I am now in the midst of a huge learning curve on how to use Eventbrite, how to synch it with Zoom (currently Zoom is not cooperating), and how to coordinate myself, my interviewer Rick Mofina, and my host daughter Leslie, all of whom will be in our own little laptop silos. I have no idea how many people will attend, but unlike my usual in-person launches at local pubs, this one can be watched from anywhere in the world. Friends, family, and fans from all over can participate. That's very exciting, and I hope people tune in. I also hope they can figure out how to get the Eventbrite invitation, use the Zoom link, and get into the session. Fingers crossed on that score.

If all goes well, I should start sending out the Eventbrite invitation by early next week, using Facebook, Instagram, and good old-fashioned email. So keep an eye out. The date is January 28 at 7 pm. EST.

I hope to "see" you there!  

Something beyond your grasp

By Rick Blechta

Here’s a thought for my first post of a brand-new year: Regardless of how many things you can do with accomplishment, is there anything you would really like to be able to do but which you know you could not do well? Sorry for the word salad, but I hope you grasp my meaning. 

I have had people tell me that I’m amazing because I can do so many things well. I set very high standards for myself, so I know what they’re saying is not really quite true.

Sure, I know a lot about music, can play a whole assortment of instruments decently, and I’m a good arranger. But I also know people who are way better and I’m always in awe of what they can do.

I write novels. Often they get good reviews. Sometimes they’re nominated for awards. One time I actually won one of those awards. Do I consider myself a good writer? Yes. But not a great one.

I could go on about other accomplishments, but you get the point. I can do a number of things well, however…

There is one thing I’d like to be able to do which I just don’t have the talent to do: paint.

We have a calendar of paintings by the Canadian artist Clarence Gagnon. He was very accomplished and while some of his paintings are very realistic, his smaller works are much more impressionistic — and I love them. The one for January is a view of a Quebec town in the dead of winter.

Looking closely, it is composed of just daubs of paint that mean very little. It’s only when you step back several feet that your breath is taken away. Even though the image remains indistinct, your brain can fill in the missing detail and those daubs become the steeple of a church or a bush in the foreground.

Both my parents were accomplished artists. It’s what defined their relationship when they met. It’s probably why they feel in love. They passed that love of painting down to their middle son, but they left out the ability to do it. My sister and brother both have that ability. I know. I’ve tried and the results ain’t good.

If there’s one thing I’d really like to be able to do, it’s paint. If I could do one painting like those little Gagnon masterpieces painted on plywood or academy board, I would be satisfied. But it would have to be good and I know I just don’t have the ability to accomplish my wish.

Is there something you don’t do that you fervently wish you could? Please share it!

Keeping the faith

 Douglas Skelton calling from a snowy part of Scotland.

OK, it's probably nothing compared to what some parts of the US of A experience but it sure beats the rain!

That's not a standing stone, by the way - it's all that remains of Kyle Castle in Ayrshire. Nothing much of note happened there, although Kyle is derived from Coelus, a king from ancient times who ruled this part of southwest Scotland. He is better known as Old King Cole but I have no idea if he was a merry old soul. Given this was before whisky was widespread and there was no Netflix, he probably wasn't.

The dog is Mickey and he is mine. Or rather, I am his servant. Between him and the cat I do wonder if this opposable thumbs business is all it's cracked up to be.

Anyway, happy 2021, folks! The year that shall not speak its name is now a bad memory and we should look to the future with optimism.

That's where the whisky and Netflix will come in, perhaps.

Seriously, we have a period of tumult ahead but I do believe we will get to better times. As long as people continue to take the virus seriously and follow precautions, give the vaccines time to roll out and for goodness sake don't listen to politicians who downplay its dangers. Naming no names, of course, but you know of whom I speak.

The book world reels from the effects of the year that shall not speak its name. Increased sales were reported - and not just in digital as you might expect but also in hard copies - but titles that were postponed will begin to appear. There remains a domino effect, though, for books that were perhaps due to hit the shelves this spring have been delayed.

I can vouch for this, for my Rebecca Connolly books generally surface in the UK around March but the third one will not see the light of day here until August. Good thing/bad thing, only time will tell.

(The second, by the by, hits US shelves on January 12 in hardback but I will regale you with that when next we are together.)

In the meantime, I am pressing on with something I am writing on spec. I've given myself until the end of January to complete a first draft because then I have to move onto the fourth in my series, which must be with the publisher by July. Failure to do so will result in a severe finger wagging and perhaps punishment, like being forced to read literary fiction. (I joke, don't write in).

So summing up - Happy New Year, everybody. Keep the faith, we can get through this. 

I must leave you now for Lord Mickey is pacing and it must be time for feeding. It's only a matter of time before Tom (the cat) surfaces from whatever warm spot he has found and goes on the demand. He does not like to be kept waiting.

Resolute

It’s the last day of 2020, the end of a trying year. For many it’s been a downright shitty year. Losses, in one form or another, upon more losses. It's time to take inventory, to take stock in what’s happened and what might in the near and distant future. And that’s what I’m doing this week.

For me, Dec. 31 is a day of reflection each year. This year, despite some defeats, I’m very grateful. To date, my family has remained healthy. My sister, my wife, and I all work in education. No one has taken ill. Likewise, my mother, who has 19 heart stents (yes, 19; not a typo), diabetes, and beat lung cancer, has secluded herself at home with her Kindle, reading four or five novels a week to remain healthy. I had a perforated colon in 2017 and spent about a month in the hospital and had two seven-hour surgeries. So I know better than to take my health for granted. I’m grateful to be healthy right now.

But tomorrow marks a new year, and it’s time for resolutions. More than resolutions, it’s a time to be resolute. I’m all about controlling what you can control. I published two academic papers this fall, and that was great, but fiction remains my love and crime my passion. I’m hoping to start a new series. That begins with small achievable goals that lead to something larger.

First, I want to write every day. I can control that. It might not be at everyone’s ideal time –– typically 4 a.m. or 11 p.m. –– but I can write every day (I got an hour in before my 12-year-old awoke on Christmas morning).

Second, I want to finish the novel I’m working on by May 31.

Third, I want to have a new short story completed and submitted by July.

New Year resolutions? I try to control what I can control and let the chips fall where they may. Here’s hoping 2021 is a better year for everyone.

Bye Bye 2020!

 

It's almost time to say good-bye to 2020. Thank goodness!

When I think about how little I’ve done, writing-wise, in 2020, I feel rather ashamed. But I’ve decided to give myself a break. I haven’t completely stopped writing so that’s a big plus. And I have lots of ideas for the future. Another plus.

In the past year, I’ve done more decorative painting projects and taken a few Zoom classes with Chris Haughey, a designer and teacher who I’ve had the pleasure to take classes from in person. I’m also grateful that I was able to attend the Creative Painting convention in Las Vegas in February, the last time I was out of Los Angeles County. I also started relearning the Swedish I sort of/kind of learned at one point in my life via duolingo.com. It’s been fun to spend a few minutes each day relearning the things I’ve long forgotten. And I did a couple macrame projects, which turned out to be quite fun.

Since Covid is raging here in Los Angeles County, I'm not going to be doing much to celebrate the new year. I'm not much for a New Year's Eve party, anyway. I pretty much hang out at home with the husband and hope that I'll stay awake until midnight.

I did find a few interesting things you can watch online. Las Vegas won’t be doing an in person celebration, but they’ll be streaming an event online which they’ve dubbed “Kiss Off 2020”. Starting at 11:45 pm PST on December 31st they’ll be counting down to the new year. At midnight a 2020 sign will be revealed and then blown up. Then a 2021 sign will be lit up, streamers will come down and there will be a 10-15 minute fireworks display. You can view this virtual event on their Facebook page or their YouTube channel. I’m not sure, but I’m hoping that it will be made available to view later for those of us who don’t want to stay up that late.

The Space Needle will also have a New Year’s Eve celebration they’ll be streaming online via spaceneedle.com/newyears Not sure if this one will be available to watch after the event happens.

If you have kids, there are a lot of Noon Year’s Eve events they can participate in. Apparently, this has been going on for a few years at libraries. This year, of course, it’s moved online. They count down to the new year at noon instead of midnight so the little ones can feel like they’ve participated. Check your local library to see if they have one.

My wish for you in this coming year is that you all stay healthy and safe and that the world returns to normal soon.

#

In other news, the American Dialect Society chose its word of the year. Not unexpectedly it is Covid. In the running were Covid, 2020, antiracism, Before Times, BIPC (Black, Indigenous and People of Color), doomscrolling, pandemic, social distancing, and unprecedented.

The digital word of the year was doomscrolling, obsessively scanning social media and websites for bad news. You haven't done that one, right?

The Zoom-related word of the year was “you’re muted”. In the running were Zoombombing, Zoom fatigue and zumping (Zoom+dumping) which is breaking up with someone via Zoom. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised that zumping is a thing now.

The Pandemic-related word of the year was "social distancing". In the running were contact tracing, coronials (the coronavirus generation for the predicted baby boom in the wake of the pandemic), Covid, flattening the curve and moronavirus, foolish behavior or ideas related to the virus.

The Slang/Informal word of the year was “the rona”, a term for the coronavirus. Covidiot was in the running in this category.

You can read the full account here: https://www.americandialect.org/2020-word-of-the-year-is-covid

Last post…of 2020

by Rick Blechta

Starting in 2014, I’ve kept a running file of each year’s blog posts. It’s always sort of exciting to get to the final one of the year. I also enjoy going back and reading how the year shook down blog-wise. There are always a few where in retrospect, they are real downers as far as mood goes.

Guess what I found in 2020’s lot? Reading this set was difficult. So many bad memories.

New Year’s Eve 2019 found my wife and I spending the holiday with some dear friends out in the country. That year had been pretty brutal for us in a number of ways, them too, so we all toasted the arrival of 2020 with “Good riddance! This new year is going to be a great one for all of us!”

Little did we know.

Actually, there’s a good news story here. Our friends have a small business selling pedal-assist electric bikes, pretty high-end ones. They’re also on a trailway, so there is a strong rental program for people who want to bike the trail, but may need a little “help.” 2020 was their best year ever — by a long way. You see, people weren’t going on vacations so they had money to spend on something like an electric bike. Our friends couldn’t get them into their store fast enough. By the end of May, they’d already sold more than the previous year’s total number of bikes! As pandemic restrictions dropped during the summer, their rental program took off too. Then in the fall, they sold off every single rental bike (discounted) which had never happened before.

Closer to home, my wife’s flute studio had to go online. Every single student said, “Sure! No problem.” It was a lot more work for both of us since I am her recording engineer and chief scanner of annotated music, but it all went well. Additionally, during the summer, most of her students wanted to continue, something that has never happened before. So she had a successful year of teaching to say the least.

So there was a bit of good news for some in 2020.

But for the rest of us…bupkis.

Even writers who already live a hermit-like existence had a tough time. We discussed it here on Type M: having trouble concentrating, being distracted by news feeds and social media more than ever, and worst of all, trying to decide whether to write the pandemic into our novels’ plots — something I still haven’t personally decided.

So in two days we will bid farewell to 2020 — a pretty rotten year by any standard.

I have some hope 2021 might be better, but I am always going to carry the memory of last New Year’s Eve when we kicked 2019 to the door, expecting its younger brother to be ever so much better.

It appears now we were dancing on a grave. I won’t make that mistake on Thursday night!

Starting Over

By Thomas Kies

This will be my last blog of 2020. I certainly won’t be sorry to kick this year’s butt out the door and embrace 2021.

2020 had it all. First and foremost was the pandemic. Sitting in my little corner of the world, I felt relatively safe. A horde of tourists felt the same way. Tourist season here on the coast has literally broken records. Travelling by air seemed risky, but driving here, renting a vacation home, and sunning on the beach felt safe.

But now, covid seems to be creeping closer and closer. Our daily number of infections continues to climb, hospitalizations increase, and now people I know have contracted it. One individual, in his fifties and healthy, died from covid complications.

In addition, 2020 saw out of control wildfires devastating parts of the western United States. Fires seemed to completely consume the continent of Australia, wiping out forests, killing billions of animals.

One after another, hurricanes made landfall, battering the Gulf Coast states and Central America in particular.

Unemployment skyrocketed. Food lines continue to grow. The government seems unwilling or is too dysfunctional to help.

Winding things up this year, an RV in downtown Nashville is packed with explosives and detonated outside of an AT&T Data Center. A recording of a woman telling the immediate area to evacuate immediately is blasted over a loudspeaker on the RV before it explodes. An extravagant suicide? An attack against the communication center? As of this writing, it's a mystery.

Somehow an appropriate way to end the year.

An end of 2020 bright spot? For now, there's toilet paper on store shelves.

Strange year.

So, when I say that I’ve thrown out the first hundred pages of my next book and I’m starting over, it doesn’t seem like that big a deal.

Why did I do that? If I’m bored writing it, the reader is going to be bored. That’s literary sacrilege.

I didn’t have to completely trash it all though. The characters are basically the same, only better…or worse, depending on if they’re a good guy or a bad guy.

The plot is basically the same, except better. The pacing is faster, the dialogue snappier, the descriptions of the scenes more vivid. More show, less tell.

So, writing that first hundred pages that ended up in the trash wasn’t a complete waste of time. If only we could throw 2020 in the trash and start over.

Oh, wait. We are.

Christmas Stories

Christmas resonates so deeply within us because of our holiday memories. I thought I'd share three of mine.

The first happened when I was ten. For some reason I decided to do something extra that Christmas morning so I opted to make pancakes. Which I had never done before. My mom stood by to give advice, but not too much as she believed that the best way to learn was from your mistakes. I served a stack, hot and steaming, to my dad and proudly waited for his confirmation of my culinary expertise. As my old man was a real chow hound, I expected him to wolf them all. When he cut into the pancakes, they oozed moist dough. After his initial bite, I asked what he thought of them. "Kinda mushy," he answered diplomatically. In retrospect, the look on his face was that he wanted to spit them out.

The next year, a used car dealer near my house had decided to augment his inventory of wrecks-on-wheels with Fox minibikes. He'd let us kids tool around the lot, hoping to get us so excited that we'd badger our parents into buying us each one. I'd bring home brochures and tell my mom and dad how cool these minibikes were. We didn't have a lot of money, but to my eleven-year-old brain, that mattered little. I never saw a clue that my folks had bought a minibike but that didn't prove a thing. If nothing else, that my parents were going to such lengths to hide the existence of a minibike only meant that they had purchased one. Christmas Eve I went to bed imagining myself the envy of the neighborhood as I puttered about on my brand-new Fox minibike. I'm sure you've guessed the punch line--there was no minibike under the Christmas tree...or anywhere else. My sister keeps the memory alive by reminding me, "Remember that time when you thought you were going to get a minibike for Christmas? You were so disappointed. That was awesome!"

Story three: Christmas 1973. My best friend and I were back home on leave from the army. After months of military restrictions, we rampaged the town like Visigoth vandals. There wasn't a party we didn't crash, a liquor cabinet we didn't raid, an old girlfriend--hell any girl--that we didn't hit on. The soundtrack for our escapades was "Jessica" from the Almond Brothers as we tore about in my friend's used Chevy, one that he had bought with his enlistment bonus for joining the infantry. But I also recall a bit of poignancy in that this was our last hurrah as footloose bachelors. The responsibilities of adulthood awaited within an uncertain future. When you're on furlough, you wait until the last minute to head back to base and as luck would have it, at the moment my friend was to leave on his trek from New Mexico to Georgia, his car wouldn't start. The clock was ticking and Uncle Sam is very unsympathetic if you're late reporting to duty. But my friend couldn't abandon his car, nor could he afford a new starter. So we took turns that frosty afternoon chipping away at the corroded contacts and trying the starter. Finally, late in the evening, he got the engine to turn over. Not wanting to push his luck, he zoomed away without exchanging more that a hasty, "See you later." Months passed and I managed to connect with him over the phone. I asked about the Chevy. He replied, "That lemon broke down on me twice along the way. I ended up donating it to a guy for a demolition derby. After all the trouble that POS caused, it was almost worth those headaches watching it get smashed to pieces."

Merry Christmas, everyone! See you next year!

Looking Backward and Forward

 By next Friday at midnight -- whatever happens between now and then, if the planet is still turning -- 2020 will be in our rear view mirror. We have called this year by many names -- some of them curses that our mothers would not approve of -- even if she is uttering the same curses when no one is listening. 

To say it has been a bad year is an understatement. But it also has been educational. We've learned things we didn't want to know -- like at what point we become numb to the daily death count. Or, think we have, until we lose someone we know and/or love. Or, until the media reminds us with yet another story that makes us understand once more the toll that COVID-19 has taken on individuals. Today, there was a story about a young woman who gave birth to her child and then died. The article was accompanied by a photo of the day when she and her husband celebrated her pregnancy. They are glowing with happiness. And now she is gone, and he has had to break the news to the other children. 

We can imagine one death, one family devastated. That haunts us. We have learned that this year. Learned it over and over again even when we tried not to see or listen. 

But we've also learned that we need to find time to stay connected with the people we care about.  Once upon a time, before email, my best friend from grad school and I used to write each other real letters. With email, oddly enough, the letters became less frequent. Until the past few months, when one email letter has led to another and we are having an on-going conversation about our lives. 

Some of us, those of us with "companion animals," were reminded of how much we value their companionship. I dropped my cat, Harry, off at the vet's last Wednesday evening for a procedure on Thursday morning. The vet and I were anticipating that I would be able to pick him up on Friday morning. Instead, the blizzard blew through depositing 22.5 + inches in our area. I spent the next six nights realizing that even when Harry is napping in a corner somewhere, the house has a different vibration when he is in it. I was as relieved as he was when I could finally pick him up on Tuesday afternoon.

Something else I learned this year -- vanity is a lot of trouble and sometimes unnecessary. For decades, since I was in my 20s, I first plucked out gray strands and then dyed my hair. I could never find a color that felt exactly right, although I did settle on a cool shade that worked with my skin tone. I thought occasionally of saying to heck with it and letting my hair go gray. But I didn't want people to think I had "stopped trying" or that my hair had turned white after a scare (old superstition). I didn't want to look in the mirror and see that I looked ancient. But this fall, while working from home and unable to get to a hair salon, I chopped my hair into a shape that worked on Zoom. Then, although I'd ordered hair color delivered with my groceries, I decided to see how gray my hair actually was. That was when I realized -- as more and more gray appeared -- that I liked the silver. It was great with my favorite shades of gray and blue. The color worked with my skin tone. Still, I was shocked when several people on Zoom said they liked my hair. Who knew?  The only problem now is that I need to update my author photos.

 I've also learned how to order a delicious meal online. I had used Grub Hub before. Now, I know how to "read" an online menu and find what I want. Last night I had a seafood feast -- fried oysters, crab hush puppies, mussel boil, and coleslaw. All this from a restaurant I had just discovered. And I'm doing my part to support local businesses with an order every couple of weeks -- my reward for learning how to do more with veggies and left-overs.  

Although I would rather have made this discovery under happier circumstances, I have finally become a fan of technology. I like what one can do on Zoom. I also like what one can do with a combination of new technology and old. I found an "animal communicator" online. We talked on the telephone, and then she did a session with Harry using a photo that I had sent her. In case you're interested, Harry has never lived with a dog (I wasn't sure), but he knows what they are. He was curious about the puppy (see cute photo) that is likely to join us in the new year. But he is withholding judgment until he encounters him and sees how he behaves. The session was inspired by my research for a book, but it was also fascinating.

I could go on with the list of things I've learned this year -- some good, some bad. You must have your list as well. I've going to see how many of those things -- for example, the need to get outside and get fresh air or at least open windows even in a pandemic -- translate into New Year's resolutions. 

Happy Holidays and Take Care,

Frankie

Christmas Eve and Chocolate to All

LaNell's Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

Christmas Eve at last, the beginning of the end of the longest and darkest year in decades and (I pray) the beginning of a better time. This has always been a period of new beginnings for me, Donis, since my birthday falls between Christmas and New Years. Those three events put a decisive punctuation mark at the end of every year. I always feel like I shake the old year off like a dog hauling herself out of a pond so she can trot confidently into the woods, going she knows not where, but on her way.

I'll begin 2021 with a new president, new book coming out February 2, and a shot in the arm as soon as my number comes up. And to celebrate the new dawn of hope, pleas allow me to treat you to my late sister-in-law LaNell’s recipe for boiled chocolate oatmeal cookies - no baking! These are oh, so delicious, and very easy. I have this recipe in LaNell’s handwriting, and have lovingly pressed it into my personal cookbook. 

Happy Holidays to all.

LaNell's Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

1 stick butter

1/2 cup milk

2/3 cup cocoa powder

2 cups sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

3 cups uncooked quick oats

1 cup chopped nuts

Combine first five ingredients in a saucepan and boil two minutes. Add 1 tsp vanilla. Remove from the fire and add 3 cups of uncooked one-minute oats. Add one cup of chopped nuts. Mix in well. Drop by teaspoons-full onto wax paper and let set. Yields about 40 cookies.

Winter solstice hope

I have almost no words for this blog. I echo those of Rick and Douglas; the end of 2020 can't come soon enough. After months of lockdowns, isolation, sacrifice, and economic hardship, here we are in the midst of the holiday season and once again confined to our rooms, unable to fully enjoy cherished celebrations with family and friends as we have in the past. 

Just last week we were cheered by the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel. Not just one vaccine, but several, if we can all hang in long enough to get the whole world vaccinated. We had been buoyed by the election of Biden (yes, even Canadians were thrilled and relieved that perhaps the US would return from its four years of darkness), only to be horrified by the calls to arms and the mad attempts to overturn the election, which continue to this day.

But then this week came news of a mutant virus more contagious and fast moving than the original, as if that one weren't bad enough. The UK is locked down and airports are blocking flights from the UK, all in a desperate but surely futile effort to keep this mutant confined to the UK. 

And so back into the dark we go. 

And yet, 2021 is a new year. I hesitate to ask "what more could possibly go wrong?" because, well... But despite the long wait and the chaos, despite the best destructive efforts of conspiracy theorists and anti-maskers, vaccines hold out hope. Throughout history, humans have celebrated the promise of light and hope in this darkest time of the year. 

So as a symbol of that hope for a better future, I post this simple picture. May its light brighten the world.

And may you find some holiday cheer, no matter how strange the celebration this year, and here's to a better year ahead. 

My wish to all of you

by Rick Blechta

To further illustrate just how miserable 2020 has been, we had an opportunity to witness a once-every-600-years conjunction of the two largest planets in our solar system, Jupiter and Saturn. I’ve been looking forward to this rare event all year. It took place last night, and guess what? The weather here in Ontario was cloudy, as in complete cloud cover, no breaks, with a cold rain.

The entire year has gone like this, one thing after another. The province of Ontario will be going into a complete lockdown, starting on Boxing Day. It should start today, and the lockdown should be far more extensive, but to be honest, commenting further would be getting into a political discussion with which I don’t want to burden anyone.

So here’s where I’m going instead…

Where was I?

Hi, Douglas Skelton this end.

This year will the strangest Christmas in living memory, thanks to you-know-what.

Here in dear old Blighty families should not congregate to tuck into the turkey over the holidays. The original advice not to do so was reversed to allow a period of five days when they could get together but that reversal has itself been reversed to only one day.

Honestly, there are so many reversals it's like reading a William Goldman novel. Especially when the uppermost question on our minds when we think about popping out for a pint of milk is 'Is it safe?'

The wacky world of publishing appears to shutting down for the holidays nonetheless.

Well, at least the bit that signs off on deals and edits and, importantly, signs the cheques. For the benefit of the US, that's the correct spelling of check. Yes, I know it's simpler but that's not the point. Standards must be maintained and once we are contagion-free I will be despatching a team of spelling and pronunciation missionaries to your fair land to educate with evangelistic zeal. 

I'm kidding, of course, and to prove it here's a smiley face - 😀

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes...

For the next two to three weeks there will be no queries from publishers or agents. No deals being made. No edits being demanded. 

Many authors will not be shutting down. Oh, they may take some time on Christmas Day to pull a cracker (if this blog had been for the UK market I could have made an off colour remark at this juncture followed by a virtual Sid James/Carry On dirty laugh. And I apologise to anyone who doesn't understand all this but it's been a long day and I'm tired so please bear with me because I may veer off at a tangent at the drop of a Christmas Pudding, this paragraph being a case in point).

Now, where was I?

Oh yes...

I for one will be treating the holiday period as, well, something that is not a holiday period. I have a new book I am writing on spec and I want to complete at least its first draft by January or February because then I have a deadline for the fourth in my Rebecca Connolly series. That's not until the summer but time flies like an arrow they say. And fruit flies like a banana. I remember the first time I heard that line, I laughed fit to bust. Ah, laughter - those were the days.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes...

How many other scribblers of words, sometimes in the right order, will be thusly labouring while others are Zooming and Skyping? 

Quite a number, I'll bet, for the creative process recognises no Yuletide fun and brooks no New Year stoppages. Of course, in Scotland, we call New Year's Eve Hogmanay, which sounds like Hug Many and there will be none of that, thank you very much. In fact, I would quite happily see the whole huggy/kissy things banished for good. Not that I get much of that, of course, for traditionally the women here hang me up and kiss the mistletoe.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes...

So Christmas Day will see me banging away (see reference above to Sid James and Carry On movies). I may stop for a mince pie or two - for reference, it's not made of minced beef but minced fruit - before I make myself something suitably festive to eat. I'm not ignoring the midwinter feast completely. My name is not Ebenezer Scrooge, you know. At least, I don't think it. Hang on while I check the name tag sewed into my collar.

Nope, not Ebenezer Scrooge. I seem to be called Machine Washable.

Anyway, if you are still with me, thanks for sticking with this ramble. I'm going to head back into this world of mayhem I am creating.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes...

(PS - I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and that 2021 will be better than this disaster movie of a year has been).

The Great Unknown

 

I spent Thanksgiving in a raft on the Colorado River, with my daughter Michele, her husband, Harry, my granddaughter Audrey, and her husband Pete. We camped out overnight in twenty degree weather. I had no idea what I was getting into. The others were experienced white water addicts. This was essentially a float trip. But still . . . 

The river part of this excursion was a lot of fun. Camping out was miserable. What's more, at my age, it's not a good idea to risk getting too cold and lowering one's immune system. Harry said later this was the coldest trip they had ever taken. 

On the whole--especially since I survived--I enjoyed the trip and decided afterwards that I live too cautiously. I'm very self protective.

Nevertheless, if I had known what I was doing, I wouldn't have done it. And I would have missed out.

In a way, the adventure was reminiscent of my entry into the writing life. When I began I didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing. I had never had a creative writing course. I didn't know any writers and there were no writing groups in my community. It was literally the great unknown. 

I taught myself to write from books that I checked out from our local library and from the Writer's Digest Magazine. I sold the first short story I submitted to a magazine that was marketed in truck stops: Overdrive. Then another to the same publication, then one to Woman's World. 

I've had a lot of breaks and made a lot of mistakes. 

Nevertheless, if I had know what I was doing in writing I wouldn't have done it. And I would have missed out.

There was no internet chiding me that I would be foolish to try because of the odds. No bombardment of statistics. No writers groups to mock my plots, my characters, my choice of words. I was foolishly optimistic. Writers Digest told me monthly that if I persisted I would succeed. 

Now publishing is looking far off into the Great Unknown again. People are reading a lot, but the books they are reading were bought by publishers before Covid hit. I understand a great many of us are turning to the classics. How will this trend affect the industry's coming list? What books will the great houses choose to entice the buying public?

As for me, I'm relying on the best advice I ever got. Irwin Applebaum once said "Write what you really want to write. There's so little money in the business it's stupid to do it for any other reason."

Book Suggestions 2020

 

I join with Rick and everyone else here at Type M in encouraging you all to support your local independent bookstores. If you’re in the United States or Canada, you can find one near you by going to Indie Bound’s store finder at https://www.indiebound.org/indie-store-finder.

It’s a little early for my reading wrap-up for 2020, but I thought I’d give you some book recommendations for those readers on your Christmas list. There are so many good books, it’s hard to pick which ones to recommend. I went through the books I’ve read so far this year and picked some favorites. Besides purchasing books by the authors here at Type M, here are my suggestions:

Cozy Mystery: 

There are a lot of good cozies out there. I’ve recently read and enjoyed the Nick and Nora Mystery series by T.C. LoTempio. It’s a three book series, Meow If It’s Murder, Claws For Alarm and Crime and Catnip. Nora Charles is a former investigative/crime reporter from Chicago who moves to California when she inherits her mother’s sandwich shop. Nick is a tuxedo cat, formerly owned by a missing private investigator, who adopts her.

The Alaskan Diner mystery series by Elizabeth Logan aka Camille Minichino. The first book in this series, Mousse and Murder, came out earlier this year. The second, Fishing for Trouble, was released a month ago. An enjoyable series set in an interesting state. You can’t go wrong with any book that Elizabeth/Camille/... writes. (She writes under a lot of different names.)

The Movie Palace series by Margaret Dumas. These are just delightful reads. There’s a ghost, an old movie palace and murder. What more can you ask for? Books in the series are Murder at the Palace, Murder in the Balcony, Murder on the Silver Screen.

Humorous Mystery:

Lost Luggage by Wendall Thomas. This is the first book in the Cyd Redondo series, a mystery filled with adventure and humor. Cyd is my kind of gal: positive, resourceful and prepared for anything. A top-notch travel agent who knows everything about the places she sends people, only she’s never traveled anywhere herself. When she wins a trip to Tanzania, it turns out not to be the vacation that she’d hoped for.

Non-fiction:

The Great Molasses Flood of 1919 by Stephen Puleo. This is a fascinating read about an event that I didn’t know about until I listened to a History Channel podcast. It referenced this book, so I had to get myself a copy. Well worth reading.

Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the World’s Stolen Treasures by Robert K. Wittman. I’ve always been fascinated by accounts of art theft. This memoir is a very interesting account of some of the many cases this FBI agent worked on over the years. 

The Ravenmaster: My Life With the Ravens at the Tower of London by Christopher Skaife. The author is the current Ravenmaster at the Tower of London. He talks about what it’s like to take care of these birds and also about the history of ravens at the tower.

Speculative fiction:

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde, first book in the Thursday Next series. These books have been around for a while, but I recently re-read this one. It’s set in Great Britain in 1985 in an alternate reality where the Crimean War still rages on, time travel and cloning are reality, and literature is taken very, very seriously. Thursday is a literary detective for Spec-Ops. There are 7 books in this series. This is my favorite. Fforde also has a website that talks about Thursday and her world: http://www.jasperfforde.com/thursdayintro.html

Middle Grade:

I enjoy reading a lot of Middle Grade novels. There's a lot of really fun books out there.This year I enjoyed these in particular: 

Greystone Secrets by Margaret Peterson Haddix. There are two books in this series so far with another coming out in 2021. In the first one, The Strangers, the Greystone kids, Chess, Emma and Finn, discover that they aren’t who they think they are when three kids with remarkably similar names and ages are kidnapped. These books are filled with mystery and adventure. 

The Last Musketeer series by Stuart Gibbs is a fun swash-buckling, time travel adventure. There are three books in the series, which should be read in order. I listened to the audio versions of the last two, read by Ramon de Ocampo. de Ocampo does a terrific job as narrator, making it even more exciting.

Those are my suggestions. What about yours?

Short and sweet!

by Rick Blechta

Last week I wrote about supporting your local independent bookstore, and if you don’t happen to have one, any independent bookstore if you can manage it. A number of you wrote to me or commented either here or on Facebook that you’re taking what I said to heart.

Just to prove that I’m in on this 100%, I’ve got my three-book order from Sleuth and we also bought a book to give to our granddaughter, the redoubtable Lucy. However, it’s not crime fiction because four-year-old generally aren’t into murders and stuff.

So to everyone who contributed to the conversation, thank you, and on behalf of the entire book industry, thank you for your support!

All this made me think of the loyal readers of Type M. Some readers have been with us for years, some drop by occasionally, some maybe just once, but we are grateful to all of you for your support.

It has been far too long since we thanked you for taking the time to read our offerings — so thank you very much! We wouldn’t be here — 14 years and counting! — if it weren’t for you.

Ripped From the Headlines

 By Thomas Kies

I’m constantly on the lookout for plotlines that I can “rip from the headlines”. More often than not, I don’t.  I make stuff up.

But now and then something comes along that says, “write me into a novel.”

Here on the coast, we have a real-life mystery unraveling right before our eyes. Let me set the scene.  We are just south of the Outer Banks on the coast of North Carolina.  As a matter of fact, my wife and I have a house on Bogue Banks Island.  

There are other banks islands and one of them, Cape Lookout, is run by the National Parks Service.  There’s a lighthouse, some cabins, and lots of space and beaches to camp on.  

On May 23, Jeff West, the Superintendent of Cape Lookout (one of the Shackleford Banks islands) was in my office in Morehead City.  He’s on my board of directors and a friend of mine.  Jeff told me that a young soldier had been camping with seven other soldiers and had gone missing the night before.  

U.S. Army Specialist Enrique Roman-Martinez, stationed at Ft. Bragg, was reported last seen just after midnight on May 22 at the campsite.  He allegedly walked away wearing shorts and no shirt and carrying no supplies, without telling anyone where he was going.  His wallet and phone were found at the campsite. 

Point of information.  The waters off our beaches are home to everything from sharks to venomous snakes to deadly rip currents. 

At the time Jeff left my office, the parks service was still searching for him.

Then on May 29, the severed head of U.S. Army Specialist Enrique Roman-Martinez washed up on the shore of Shackleford Banks.  The parks service and the military launched a search for the rest of his remains.

To this date, they haven’t been located.  The military issued a $25,000 reward for information that leads to the conviction of anyone responsible for the homicide of the paratrooper.

An autopsy showed the soldier had been decapitated, however it’s unclear how he died.  There’s evidence of multiple chop injuries to the head and the jaw had been broken in at least two places. A toxicology report found no evidence of drug use. 

The dead soldier’s family are concerned with inconsistencies in the story of what happened when Roman-Martinez went missing.  The 911 caller told a dispatcher that the soldiers had been looking for help to find their missing friend.

“When we woke up, he was not here and we’ve been looking for him all day,” the caller said.  “We were trying to find a park ranger or their offices, or anything, and so we went all the way to the ferry and found that we needed to dial 911.”

However, a Cape Lookout National Seashore spokesperson said that the park rangers had encountered the group the afternoon of May 23 and asked them to move their vehicles, which were parked too close to the sand dunes.

He continued, “The rangers moved on after hearing the group would comply.  The soldiers did not make mention to them at this point that anyone was missing from their group.”

The 911 caller also had told the dispatcher they were worried that Roman-Martinez might hurt himself because he had “suicidal tendencies.” 

Add to that the fact that the bodies of two more Fort Bragg soldiers were found last week in a remote training area of the North Carolina Army base.  

Then on Thursday, the FBI entered the picture, complete with their scuba team.  Their truck is pictured at the top of this blog.

A tragically sad story for sure that makes for an interesting mystery.  

A strange twist came last night in the form of an email.  Now, because I have a relatively public position here in our area, I get the occasional strange private message through our Facebook page or an odd email.

Four of them came as I was watching episodes of Fargo with my wife.  They came from a woman whose name I don’t recognize.  The first was a link to the story about Roman-Martinez.  No explanation, just a link.

The second was a link to a story from Reuters dated April 2019 headlined, “U.N. rights boss condemns Saudi Arabia’s beheading of 37 men.”  

Her message to me was: Ya’ll could always move in with this bunch.  They’re pretty civilized just like ya’ll.  Do believe in UN rights???

Her second to last message was: Anyone “bother” for investigate?  Or did you just blow it off cause He’s Spanish and from LA?

Weird, right? The last message asked if it was against the law for someone to steal crab pots or kill a spouse for insurance money.  

I believe it is.

Needless to say, I haven’t responded.  I’m the president of our county’s chamber of commerce.  Yes, I write mysteries in my spare time, but I’m not the lead on this investigation. 

Is this staying at the top of my radar screen?  You bet.  We have our share of missing kayakers or boating mishaps, but murders are few and far between. 

Will this find its way into a book?  Most likely, but probably not one of mine.  It’s a little too much like my first book Random Road in which six bodies are found hacked to death on an island.  

I’ll rip another story from the headlines.