Weekend Update: November 3-4, 2018

Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Dick Cass (Monday), Lea Wait (Tuesday), Barb Ross (Wednesday) John Clark (Thursday), and Bruce Coffin (Friday).

In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:

Dick Cass and Kate Flora joined crime writers Hallie Ephron and Sheila Connolly at the Concord Festival of Authors mystery night:

Photo Oct 31, 6 56 37 PM

Bruce Robert Coffin launched Beyond the Truth the third novel in his Detective Byron mystery series on the past Tuesday at DiMillo’s on the Water.

Kate Flora is celebrating the arrival of two new books this week. Her crime story collection, Careful What You Wish For and the 9th Thea Kozak mystery, Schooled in Death.

      

A bunch of Maine Crime Writers past and present were at Murder By The Book in Bar Harbor last weekend.

There were lots of laughs. From left, Lynne Raimondo (with face in hands), Beth Ineson, Jim Ziskin, Dorothy Cannell, Julia Spencer-Fleming and Brenda Buchanan

Murder by the Book was a good time! From left, Brenda Buchanan, Dick Cass, Anne Cass and Karen Coffin

There were panels and readings and lots of informal discussion among Maine crime writers and special guests, including Guest of Honor David Rosenfelt.

Stephanie Gayle, Bruce Coffin and Jim Ziskin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce Robert Coffin has several appearances scheduled for the coming week. On Monday, November 5th at 6 p.m. he will be at the Kennebunk Free Library with Paula and Ann from Mainely Murders.

On Wednesday, November 7th from 2-8 p.m. he will be signing books at the Diane Snow Gallery, 705 Foss Road, Limerick, Maine.

On Thursday, November 8th at 6 p.m. he will be appearing in Groveland, Massachusetts at the Langley-Adams Library.

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DON’T MISS! NOIR AT THE BAR: MAINE CRIME & MYSTERY WRITERS EVENT & RAFFLE

Location: Banded Brewing Co., 32 Maine St. Biddeford  When: November 18, 3-5 p.m.  https://bandedbrewing.com/

Maine Writers Treat You to a ‘Peeerfect’ Sunday afternoon! Listen to eleven writers share enticing bits of their thrillers and mysteries. Sip craft brews. (Beelzebubbles and Swarm should fit the mood.)

Order up a taster of 4 craft brews!

Enter a free raffle and win a large basket of signed authors’ books. (Great for gifts!) Kelly’s Books to Go will also be on hand to sell all authors’ works.

 

An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.

And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

 

 

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HE WAS RIGHT. HE WAS RIGHT …

Sandra Neily writing here. My husband tells that I’m trying to do too much. And someone at a library presentation recently asked me how I had time to write. Good question.

I thought I might journal my week, just to investigate the issue. Spoiler alert: my husband’s right. He was right. 

MY WEEK:

Wildlife Research: I researched and gathered new wildlife information to enhance my Deadly Turn manuscript. (To be published in 2019.) Some  highlights.

Chickadees: listen closely to a chickadee’s call. One dee indicates there’s no threat, but five dees at the end of the call could indicate that there’s an owl or some other threat.

Squirrel for dinner.

Pine Martens: Good news for people bemoaning this summer’s squirrel invasion. Pine martens love to dine on them and hunt them ferociously on the ground and in trees.

Moose: Biologists are wondering if the soft skin and blood vessels that grow over and nourish early antler growth might allow moose to echolocate their way through the forest. Somehow the sensitive tissue might return signals that allow bull moose to turn aside from trees and brush that impede their progress. (Early days on that research.)

Lil sharpening claws for her cat sitter.

Cat Sitting: Each day I’m paid to drive down Westport Island to cat sit for a few hours. I can type there when felines are not rubbing on my legs.

Doctor: I had to get antibiotics to cure cat scratches, so no more tummy rubs.

 

Family Fun with Moose: I went to the Maine Wildlife Park with my daughter and granddaughter. Bobcats and lynx were “big kitties,” coyotes and bears were “big doggies,” and ducks were…”DUCKS!” (It’s still open!)

An orphaned moose calf eats lunch.

My rescued lab Raven and I aren’t thinking ticks. We should be.

Dog Walks: Walked Raven and found amazing ferns.

Workouts:  I went to the YMCA at least twice. (Lifting weights is good for pre-election drama.)

Kitchen Highlights (of course there was more cooking than this):  I made blueberry muffins and two friends asked for my secrets. I sent emails: “add about 2 tablespoons of yogurt to all quick breads, a mashed banana, and a handful of real cranberries as well. (I freeze dead bananas and bags of fresh cranberries.)

Author Time: I wrote each day, even if just a few pages. Some days I made my 1,000-word goal (or more) and did a happy dance in front of the cats. Here are my favorite lines from this week:

Kate slipped off her T-shirt and wiggled into one of her father’s old shirts. “You should change your stinky fish stuff, too, Mum. Bears from far away will come here.”

“I hate clothes,” I said.

“No you don’t.” She tossed me another old Evan shirt that still had beetle parts on it from when I’d cleaned the screens with it. “You just hate shopping. Don’t blame you. And what have they done to jeans making them hang so low women’s middles are squeezed up like ripe fruit?”

Press Release: (Pay attention now.) You are invited to win a basket of signed mystery and thriller books from Maine authors!  I wrote a press release to advertise Noir at the Bar. Hope to see you there!

NOIR AT THE BAR:  CRIME & MYSTERY WRITERS EVENT & RAFFLE                 Location: Banded Brewing Co., 32 Maine St. Biddeford   When: November 18, 3-5 p.m.

Tasters: 4 for $10.00

Maine Writers Treat You to a ‘Peeerfect’ Sunday afternoon! Listen to eleven Maine writers share enticing bits of their thrillers and mysteries. Sip craft brews. (Beelzebubbles and Swarm should fit the mood.)

Enter a free raffle and win a large basket of signed authors’ books. (Great for gifts!) Kelly’s Books to Go will also be on hand to sell all authors’ works.

Author Barbara Ross explains the appeal. “We thriller and mystery mystery authors are mild-mannered, lovely people. We help you shovel your driveways and take care of your cats while you’re away. You’d never guess we have a flair for mayhem until we read you a bit of it. We’ve got seaweed-snarled bodies pulled up by fishermen, trees dropped on best friends, a charred corpse under a clambake grate, a world-class assassin who dispatches other assassins—and lots more of that kind of thing.”

Asked why Maine has so many successful and prolific crime and mystery authors, Sandra Neily (who uses the north woods), thinks it’s a combination of ideal settings and a fairly safe environment. “Maine is just chock full of dramatic and varied locations that allow us to pull readers deeply into a story. We also have a reputation as a pretty safe state so perhaps our readers can dive into the literature of what’s not safe …  with a kind of curious freedom.”

This year Noir at the Bar has moved its yearly event to Banded Brewing Company in Biddeford. There’s a good view of the brewing tanks, inspired bakery treats (like Buffalo Chicken Croissants), or the opportunity to bring in pizza from Portland Pie, next door.

See you there!

Sandy’s novel, “Deadly Trespass, A Mystery in Maine,” won a Mystery Writers of America award and was a finalist in the Women’s Fiction Writers Association “Rising Star” contest. This year, she’s been nominated for a Maine Literary Award. Find her novel at all Shermans Books and on Amazon. Find more info on the video trailer and Sandy’s website.  The second Mystery in Maine, “Deadly Turn,” will be published in 2019.

 

 

 

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Frightening Thoughts From the Group

John Clark encouraging MCW members to participate in a game of Halloween Two Truths and a Dare. Each set of statements below has one that’s false. Your challenge is to decide which ones they are. Best guesser wins something interesting.  Here are mine.

1-I once saw a rocking chair move on its own in an abandoned house.

2-My collection of shrunken heads was confiscated by the Maine State Police.

3-The Hells Angels let me sleep in an abandoned car while they played with fire inside a house.

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson chiming in with two truths and a lie. Can you tell which one is untrue?

1-A short story I wrote is included in a horror anthology.

2-Every Halloween we dress up a dead tree in our front yard so that it looks like a witch.

3-When I was compiling his memoirs for the family, my dead grandfather sent me a “sign” that he approved of the project.

Maureen Milliken two truths and a lie! [Or do we  just say “alternate facts” these days?]

1.-There’s something in the walls, eaves and between the floors of my house — too big to be mice, or even squirrels. I can hear it running through the ceiling when I’m in the living room. It — or they — is/are big and loud and I expect one day it’s going to burst through the walls like the monster in the movie “Aliens.”

2-The college I went to (Catholic college buildings from the 1840s) had a hidden exorcism room in secret tunnels under the older buildings on the campus, and particularly on Halloween, we’d go looking for it. Though we never found the room, we heard enough whispers and cries to know that the spirit of something was there.

3-Every time I open the door of a remote place — particularly state park and rest area outhouses, but also walk-in refrigerators and closets in public buildings — I expect there to be a body. I’m relieved, yet disappointed, when there isn’t one.

From Sandra Neily

1.     I navigated a dangerous mountain pass in a blizzard driving a Cadillac that carried a trunk-load of marijuana.

2.     A game warden with a spotting scope saw me skinny dipping in what I thought was a remote stream; he shared it state-wide.

3.     My boyfriend and I survived a cougar attack in Glacier National Park only to meet the animal again on the trail further down the mountain.

From Lea Wait:
1) Being at home alone when someone breaks into my home.
2) Getting off a plane in a third world country and being greeted by soldiers carrying machine guns.
3) Taking a taxi from the airport to my hotel and having the taxi (engine, underneath, inside, trunk) searched for bombs before I could be dropped off at the door.

From Barb Ross

1) One of the bedrooms in our old sea captain’s house in Boothbay Harbor is said to be haunted. On one of the rare nights Bill and I slept in that room, our cocker spaniel couldn’t settle. He paced and paced, panting, until we threw him out into the hall, whereupon he promptly lay down and fell fast asleep.

2) One of my ancestors was hanged as a witch just outside of Salem, MA.

3) I once trick or treated as the backend of a horse. I do not recommend it for many reasons, most especially because many grownups do not see the second candy bag sticking out from the back.

Kate Flora

1 While driving on a foggy night on Route 128, a woman suddenly appeared in the middle lane, waving her arms wildly for me to stop. I rolled down my window and she approached the car and said, “Pull over to the side and stop.” When I continued to stare, she said, “It’s okay, Fraulein. It’s what the Fuhrer wants you to do.”

2 Once, while I was on a visit to New York, there was a man on the subway staring at me. Unnerved, I got off and explored above ground, but an hour later, there he was again, staring. So I went back to hotel, more than a little bit spooked. When I went out a few hours later to get some dinner, he was eating in the restaurant I choose. Was I being followed?

3 A few years ago, on a Sisters in Crime field trip to the New Hampshire Medical Examiner’s office, she showed us the morgue freezer where the bodies were stored, and once we were all inside, she went out, shut the door, and turned off the light. That sure made the visit memorable.

Brenda Buchanan

1- Many people fret about roller coasters, but I love ‘em. The steeper and twistier, the better.

2 – I’m not afraid of spiders or snakes.

3 – I love to camp in remote places, sharing the woods with animals but no other people.
Jen Blood

1 – As teenagers, my friends and I regularly broke into a creepy abandoned inn in Northport for seances and canoodling.

2 – At seventeen, my ex-bf and his buddies took me out trick o’treating as their little sister, dressing me in a sheet topped with a Winnie the Pooh baseball hat because I was short enough to pass for a child.

3 – When I was in my late twenties, a woman in white appeared in my room at Kirkpatrick Hall my first night at Goddard College, whispered something that I couldn’t understand, and then vanished. I was wide awake at the time, and to this day wonder if someone spiked the punch at that first Goddard dinner.

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I Don’t Mean to be a Problem

Dorothy Cannell: When I was about seven my pet chicken Rhoda showed up on the chickens-jj-001Christmas dinner table. I don’t mean she went hopscotching between the platters of vegetables chirping out ‘Jingle bells’.  She was dinner, stuffed and roasted.  Horrible – repulsive in her plucked nakedness.  My parents kept chickens and I’d known one would be selected to fill our tummies.  But Rhoda was different.  She was mine. Perhaps originally I would have preferred a dog or cat, but I talked to her every day, thought her prettier and cleverer than her sisters, was convinced she returned my affection.  And now I felt ill.

I don’t remember how the announcement had been made that this was Rhoda.  I know it could not have crossed my mother’s mind that I would react as I did.  She enjoyed taking care of the chickens – feeding them and collecting the eggs.  She didn’t mind cleaning out the henhouse.  She took good care of them.  And named every one of them.  But she didn’t have a deep emotional feel for them.  Perhaps only a child who desperately wanted a pet of any sort would go off the deep end about the festive sacrifice of a Rhode Island Red with a name to suit.  I do remember that my mother was regretful and compassionate.  She understood my reaction though it was outside her own thinking.  I don’t know what, if anything, I ate of that meal, but I do know that she never expected me to eat chicken again.  When it was served there was always another choice – usually ham.

chicken-8x6.jpgThe memory of that carcass turned me against partaking off any kind of bird – turkey, duck, pheasant, or whatever else is regarded as edible.  My husband Julian took this quirk in his stride, and I don’t think our children thought me odd.  Dad took them out for fried chicken or brought it home, made chicken sandwiches for them, and at Thanksgiving there was always turkey.  Julian purchased the turkey and did all preparations.  I made the sage and onion stuffing, but he was chef while I got well out of the way.  By the time I re-engaged, the skeleton had been disposed of and remains innocuously sliced.  My offerings of cranberry sauce, vegetables and pecan pie always gave me a pleasant sense of virtue triumphing over travail.

I confess to frequently feeling that the world is against me when it comes to this issue.  When eating out I have to scan through item after item on menus featuring, Chicken Alfredo, Chicken Tacos, Curried Chicken Salad, Chicken Florentine, etc. in hope of finding something feather free.  Fowl has become the favorite offering at weddings, banquets and dinner parties. Family and friends know about my quirk. The rest of the time I hope it won’t be noticed that I’ve done a camouflage job from what’s left of the vegetables, rice or pasta I could have eaten twice as much of.  “Not eating bird is a social handicap” I frequently muse, hoping to sound pitifully charming, rather than a pain in the neck.  Though the latter is what I have to be for anyone considering inviting me for lunch or dinner.

My sad story of Rhoda has to pale in comparison to the irritation of having to scour for a recipe involving, beef, pork or fish to substitute for that tried and true chicken in mushroom soup casserole with its dash of paprika and liberal slosh of sherry that everyone thinks takes hours to make.

It is during moments of introspection that I will think of myself as a character in one of my books.  So often in writing it is something seemingly trivial, an idiosyncrasy that sows the seeds for fleshing out personality.  I select a setting.  Because I do traditional mysteries, and the current one takes place in an English village during the nineteen thirties, I will go with such.  In this environment the fictional Dorothy (we’ll call her Edith) plays bridge.  Not very well, but sufficiently to make up a table if the Major or the Vicar is unavailable.  Unfortunately for those doing the inviting such occasions often include a luncheon or dinner and if it’s not bad enough that Edith variably leaves her reading glasses at home and has false teeth that click and has a tendency to sniff, she doesn’t ‘do feathers.’

I can hear Miss Willis from The Rookery grumbling to Mrs. Gillman of Spring Cottage: ‘Tiresome creature!  Some ridiculous story about a pet chicken that showed up on the dinner table when she was a child.  The need to draw attention to herself would be pathetic if not so irritating.  One shouldn’t laugh at her for looking so like an old hen herself – that scraggy neck and yellow skin.  And talk about a beak!  You could stab yourself on her nose.  I’ve always said you can tell lot about people’s characters by their noses. All that twittering on about good works, but she’s not a nice woman.  Indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised if she got herself murdered before too long, particularly if those whispers about why the church sewing circle disbanded has a grain of truth.’

A little bit of me transferred and trasnsformed.  Merely a fragment.  But fragments have impact which can sometimes turn into consequences.  What I love about writing mysteries is turning a trait that does not herald menace into something dire.

Happy reading,

Dorothy

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THREAD HERRINGS: Pieces Of My Life, Stitched Together

Tomorrow, October 30, is the publication day for THREAD HERRINGS, the seventh in my Mainely Needlepoint mystery series, set in the small working waterfront town of Haven Harbor, Maine.

My protagonist, Angie Curtis, runs a custom needlepoint business which includes a group of idiosyncratic Mainers who have in common a talent for doing needlepoint: Sarah, an antique dealer from Australia; Dave, a high school teacher who has a poison garden; Captain Ob, who runs a charter fishing boat in season; Ruth, who writes erotica; and Angie’s grandmother, now the wife of the local minister.  In each book in the series Angie not only solves one (or more) crimes, but she also learns a little more about one or more of her fellow needlepointers.

In THREAD HERRINGS Angie accompanies her friend Sarah to an estate auction: her very first. As a fourth-generation antique dealer, auctions were familiar venues for me from the time I was about eight. (I made my first auction purchase, a first edition Encyclopedia Americana, when I was ten.) It was fun to introduce Angie (via Sarah) to the ways, means, customs, courtesies, and traditions of an auction. And, of course, Angie had to be intrigued by one item, and buy it.

And of course, it is a piece of old needlepoint. And, of course, it has a story.

As a long-time adoption advocate, adoptive parent and history buff, I’ve always been fascinated by what happened to orphaned children throughout history, and have collected information about it for years. So it isn’t surprising that a piece of that history is connected to Angie’s eighteenth century needlepoint. Nor is it surprising that soon a twenty-first century crime is also woven into the story.

How did I fit those pieces into the plot of a book set on the coast of Maine? You’ll have to read it to see. And remember … you’ll also find some red herrings in THREAD HERRINGS!    

Available in mass market paperback and e-book.

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Weekend Update: October 27-28, 2018

Next week at Maine Crime Writers, there will posts by Lea Wait (Monday), Dorothy Cannell (Tuesday), Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson (Thursday), and Sandra Neily (Friday). On Wednesday, for Halloween, we’ll present our “Frightening Thoughts from the Group”

In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:

 from Kathy Lynn Emerson: my short story, “Lady Appleton and the Creature of the Night,” previously published in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, is included in the new digital anthology, Terror at the Crossroads. It’s available now on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Terror-Crossroads-Tales-Horror-Delusion-ebook/dp/B07JK8RSX6

and soon, if not already, at Barnes & Noble, Magzter, Kobo, GooglePlay, and the iTunes store. Truthfully, I don’t know if I’d classify my story as “horror” but in it my sixteenth-century sleuth does solve a mystery involving a shapeshifter.

 

 

 

An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.

And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business. Contact Kate Flora

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Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign

Kate Flora: As part of personally carrying out my oft repeated exhortation to writers to pay attention to the world, I tend to take a lot of pictures. One of my favorite things to photograph is signs. All kinds of signs. Since this week I am on a cruise ship somewhere along the coast of Italy, I am going to skip a lot of text in favor of a collection of these signs. Maybe you have some signs you’d like to share as well?

These signs are from the Czech Republic, Amsterdam, India, California, Germany, San Francisco, the Berkshires, Maine, etc. They are from store windows, street signs, lamp posts, and parks. There are signs everywhere and many of them are amusing or inspiring. Sweety’s Tattoos will appear in the next Joe Burgess mystery.

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The Watch House, or screwing around all winter

My friend Holly Schindler is posting about her less than successful efforts to declutter on Facebook this week. I can empathize as can Sister Kate. Neither of us has recovered from the nearly three year odyssey known as cleaning out Mom’s house. That involved entreaties to the Vose Library, the Union Historical Society to take what they wanted, numerous trips to the Maine Womens Writing Project with boxes of Mom’s letters, notes and manuscripts, filling a couple giant dumpsters and even running out to people who stopped to look at the free stuff by the mailbox while screaming, “Wait! There’s lots more inside!” This is my own variation on that story.

When we moved to Hartland in 2003, one of the attractions on the property was the storage building which we later learned had started life as a watch repair shop. In Chelsea, I’d built two storage buildings, but they were particle board and nowhere near as big as this one. It filled quickly as storage spaces are wont to do…overflowing shelves, miscellaneous pieces of wood overhead, multiples of hammers, pitchforks, shovels, etc. leaning in corners. In sum, it was comfortably messy and sometimes impossible to navigate.

The monster overhead

Last year, Beth got fed up with my lackadaisical acceptance of dry rot appearing in several floorboards. After we dug out a few spots, I hired my friend Rod to do repairs. It didn’t take him long to report that the entire floor and the underlying stringers were toast. He set to work replacing the stringers (which were closer to waterlogged cardboard than wood by that point) with pressure treated 2×6’s and then laid 1/2” plywood over it. When he was free a couple months ago, Rod installed hard pine over the plywood, we coated it with a clear heavy duty finish and it was time to move stuff back in.

Stay or go? That is the question

It was also time to face reality. At 70, how much of that stuff was I ever going to use? Here’s what followed that question. By the time we had to replace the floor, our accumulation of ‘stuff’ had grown to include lots of items from Mom’s, things I’d picked up at the dump, others bought at Liberty Tool, purchased from library patrons, or retrieved from my father-in-law’s place when he died. Given that he was retired industrial arts instructor, as well as an avid woodworker, what I brought from his place was substantial.

The early sorting projects fit here, but no more.

As you can see from the photos, there’s a ton of triaging ahead. It helps that I have a 66 drawer oak card catalog I got from the Maine State Library as well as an eight drawer sliding microfiche cabinet from UMA, but even then, how many sockets, adjustable wrenches, nuts, roofing nails, etc. Will I need? Fortunately, I’m pretty clear headed about the future as it involves handyman tasks. In essence, Like Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry, I know my limitations. The easiest way to deal with the excess would be to take it back to Liberty Tool and get a few bucks. However, I’m considering some interesting alternatives. Are the recently arrived Amish families interested in any of the extras? How about local community organizations working to winterize or repair homes in bad condition. My experiences on the campaign trail have introduced me to pockets of poverty that are both sad and scary. My fellow Democrat, Sue Mackey Andrews, running for our local senate seat, has made 25 referrals to agencies of people she’s found living in seriously unsafe homes, so the need for tools and the like is there, the challenge is in making some matches.

I figure there’s a couple blizzards worth of sorting in these boxes.

Whatever happens, my moderate OCD tendencies will be sated as I sort out nail and screw sizes, accept that the can of new springs deserves a new home. Stay tuned for how it all unfolds.

Top drawer is screwdrivers, the next is a bazillion wrenches, sockets and drill bits.

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In praise of writers using the F-word. I’m F-wording serious.

Someone wrote to Dear Annie, an advice column in my local newspaper, complaining about writers who use the “f-word” in their novels. The letter was signed “Love to Read.”

Annie agreed, responding, “Anything said with the F-word could be better said without it. More than anything, it’s lazy.”

Another reader, “Love to Write,” wrote in response, telling Annie, “I think this stance is too harsh,”

But do you really, Love to Write?

Love to Write continues, “I avoid profanity and agree that such words are a lazy means of expressing oneself, but as a writer, I try to represent my characters and who they are. People swear — so in dialogue, I must represent characters truthfully.”

Annie says writers who use it are lazy. Love to Write says people who use it at all — apparently in writing or conversation — are lazy, with the exception of writers who use it in dialogue for characters who, I presume, are lazy.

We’ll get back to the second part of Love to Write’s quote in second. I’d like Annie, Love to Write (as he/she holds his/her nose and uses the f-word as a sacrifice to “truthful” writing) and those of you who agree to consider this: It’s dangerous, and — dare I say it? — lazy, to make a huge, sweeping generalization about one word.

There’s a Til Tuesday song, “Believe You Were Lucky,” that I remember a Boston Globe critic writing something like, “It’s the only time you’ll hear the word acquiesce and the f-word in the same song.” He was right, and when Aimee Mann drops that f-bomb, it’s perfect. Annie — take a listen — there’s no other better word for that moment. And in the sanitized version on YouTube, the song suffers without the word.

Let’s get it out of the way that I have no issue with the f-word. Anyone who knows me is aware of that. But the fact that I’m an even bigger fan of good writing is why I defend it.

I write about journalists, police officers, firefighters, college professors, owners of diners and country stores, farmers, murderers and more. Some swear, some don’t. You might be surprised who does and who doesn’t. It’s got nothing to do with their laziness or mine. In fact, I don’t think the two laziest people in my new book say the f-word at all.

As Love to Write points out, knowing your characters and how they speak is a big part of writing. I’ll take that a few more steps — thinking about all of the words you use in writing, and how they’re used, is important.

The English language has a lot of words and they’re there for us to use however we think is best to tell the story we want to tell.

Words that are considered shaming and ugly should be used with care and context, of course. So should words that really aren’t, but that some find offensive. See how I’ve been using a euphemism in this post instead of the actual f-word? I get that.  [Just so you know — every time I write “f-word” in this post, I’m saying the real word in my head. ]

I’m not saying some writers don’t use the f-word more than others, or that there aren’t cases where it’s gratuitous or another word may work better. But the f-word isn’t any different than other words.

Unnecessary adjectives and adverbs, for instance. Clunky cliche phrases that make a book stiff and less engaging. There are words I see — “inoffensive” words — that I never hear in normal daily conversation, but yet may litter a book like thesaurus vomit.

There are words or phrases, descriptions and tropes, that as a woman I find paternalistic, marginalizing, sexist or ignorant, but are common in books. Then there are ones that the writer, in his or her bubble, doesn’t realize are subtly or not-so-subtly racist.

There are words that are just plain used incorrectly — purposefully when purposely is meant is one that drives me bananas.

And how about dialogue that reads like it’s pulled from a buddy movie or sit-com instead of from a knowledge of character, theme, tone or purpose?

It’d blow your mind some of the words and phrases I don’t like. A lot of them, you’d think are just fine. If you’re a writer, they may be some of your favorite words or phrases. That’s okay. I don’t think you’re lazy, I just think we have a different take on words.

There’s one universally popular and beloved mystery writer who changes point of view mid-scene. It drives me so nuts that I can’t read her books. [No, she’s not a Maine Crime Writer, or even a Maine writer.] I’m apparently the only person in the world who it bothers. When I mention it to people, they try to talk me out of it, insisting it shouldn’t bother me.

But they can’t, and it does. I’m not going to enjoy the jarring mid-scene point of view changes any more than Love to Read, Annie and Love to Write are going to get cozy with the f-word.

Love to Write suggests that Love to Read “be selective in her genre choice – not every genre is for every reader, but there are so many to choose from that I’m sure she will find novels more suited to her taste.”

I agree.

That’s the great thing about writing. You take your 80,000 to 100,ooo words and toss them together and make your story. I’ll take mine and make my story. I may have more that start with F than you do. You may have more that start with some other letter.

Some people will like your book better, some will like mine. Neither of us are lazy — we’re just writers who use words differently. The reading world (and writing world) would be a boring place — not one I’d want to be in — if one person’s taste dictated what made a good book.

The great thing about reading AND writing is that there is a world of styles to choose from. Now, isn’t something to f-wording celebrate?

BY THE WAY, for those of you who don’t mind a few f-bombs — though fewer than before my publisher got hold of it [you can insert smiley or other emoji of your taste here] — BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST, the third book in the Bernie O’Dea mystery series has just been released. Though the official launch date is October 31, it’s available on Amazon in both Kindle and print, and will soon be available on Audible, your favorite local bookstore, S&H Publishing’s, website and, as always, out of the back of my car.

The launch party is Friday, 6 to 8 p.m., at Lakehome Group realty, 75 Main St., Belgrade Lakes. [It’s a small town — we take our venues where we can, and this one’s awesome]. There’ll be refreshments, including free wine, door prizes, and I’ll read briefly and with no f-bombs from BAD NEWS TRAVELS FAST, which will be available to buy. So will be COLD HARD NEWS and NO NEWS IS BAD NEWS, the first two in the series [special discount for buying all three!].

My publisher is donating $1 to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy for every Bernie O’Dea book sold at the party.

It’s going to be f-word great!

 

 

 

Posted in Maureen's Posts | Tagged , , , , , | 13 Comments

AN APPLE … OR MORE… A DAY

Fall colors from my deck overlooking St. George River

Susan Vaughan here. I love many things about autumn. I can’t count the number of photos I have of fall foliage. When we were new to Maine, many years ago now, we used to spend Columbus Day weekends enjoying the reds, yellows, and oranges in western or northern Maine.

We drove to lakes or mountains we’d not visited before and stayed in a cabin or inn. October was a bit too chilly for camping in our 1972 VW van, which we’d done for years. Once we rented an old log cabin that had gas lights and a gas refrigerator. I reheated my beef stew on the wood stove.

Mums & pumpkins on my front steps

I love the smells and sounds of autumn too—the smoke of wood fires, the crackle of leavesunderfoot, the yellows and oranges of mums and pumpkins. And right up there with those delights are fall foods, especially dishes made with the quintessential red and green skinned fall apple, the McIntosh, or Mac. When checking on the correct spelling (MacIntosh vs McIntosh), I learned that this apple was “discovered” by John McIntosh on his Dundela farm in Canada in 1811. It was first called McIntosh’s apple, but gradually the shorter version triumphed.

Today I’m sharing two of my favorite apple recipes here. First is a main dish, Pork Chops and Apples, from Betty Crocker’s New Good and Easy Cook Book, fourth edition, given to me by my mother in 1966, according to the year I wrote inside the front cover. The ingredients are simple: 6 pork chops (thicker is better); 3-4 unpeeled apples, cored and sliced; 1/4 cup brown sugar; 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon; 2 tablespoons butter. Heat the oven to 400 degrees.

Brown chops on both sides in a skillet. Place apple slices in greased baking dish. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon; dot with butter. Top with the browned chops. Cover with foil; bake 1 1/2 hours. The apples and the baking time flavor and tenderize the chops. For the two of us, I’ve altered the recipe somewhat, by decreasing the number of chops to four and increasing the number of apples to 5-6. I think the number of apples can vary depending on taste and the number of chops. I tried the recipe with a pork loin, but ended up with shredded pork rather than slices. Still yummy, though, and an aromatic meal.

A dessert is up next. I’m not much of a baker, but this one is super easy. My One-Dish Apple Pudding is based on a Shaker recipe I clipped from the Bangor Daily News a few years ago. I’ve altered it by adding more spices. Ingredients: 2 eggs; 2/3 to 3/4 cup sugar; 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour; 1 teaspoon baking powder; 1 teaspoon vanilla; dash of salt; 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon; 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg; 1/4 cup chopped walnuts (optional); 2 large or 3 medium McIntosh or Granny Smith apples, peeled and cut up.

The recipe calls for dicing them, but I cut them in smallish chunks. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 1 1/2-quart baking dish. Mix the dry ingredients together in another bowl. Break eggs and beat well, and then add the vanilla. Stir into the dry ingredients, and then stir in the apples. Mix well. Do not cover, although my photo shows foil there. That was because I was taking it to a potluck. Bake approximately 35 minutes. If pudding doesn’t look quite ready, allow another 10 minutes. Serve warm with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. This is enough for 4 to 6, depending on the size of the servings.

The original recipe called for everything to be dumped into the casserole together and then mixed. I found that way made it too difficult to be certain everything was well mixed, and the baked pudding stuck to the casserole. It also called for a full cup of sugar, but I found that covered the sweet-tart taste of the apples. Those Shaker sisters liked their sweets, I suppose.

Do you have a favorite apple or other seasonal recipe? What else do you love about autumn?

Posted in Susan's posts | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments