Jane's Blog Archives
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April 14--April 20, 2008
Jane was the invited guest blogger on St. Martin’s Minotaur’s blog: www.momentsincrime.com. Here are her postings. |
April 20, 2008
A Moss Garden Grows in Manhattan
I have a moss garden. It’s in a window box that lives on my little terrace most of the year and hibernates on a ledge in the dining room during the winter. The garden, a sort of eco-system of a forest includes a huge asparagus fern, some plants with delicate blue flowers, some clover, a miniature palm tree, and lots of moss. There’s a good-sized rock and some pieces of bark. But it’s the moss that’s most special to me.
 Several years ago, my husband, Joe, who as you may know is a professional musician with Academy Brass, traveled throughout the country with the Broadway show, Les Miséarable. He was gone most of two years. To be with him, I traveled to wherever he was playing as often as I could, and sometimes in our wanderings, I’d find beautiful moss—by the edge of Puget Sound, for example, under a tree in Balboa Park, near a curb on a street without sidewalks in Des Moines, and by a purling brook not far from Salt Lake City. In each place, I carefully scooped up a bit of moss, wrapped it in moist paper towels, enclosed it in a plastic bag, and transplanted it into my moss garden.
Today, when I was primping it a bit, admiring the thick, lush moss, some of it ripe with little tendrils of growth; some fuzzy, like a peach; and some, mature and lawn-like; I stroked my treasure—the teeny piece from Brewster, New York that I’d tucked into a corner several years ago. Today when I touched it, the soft moistness soothed and tickled my skin.
It’s my prize, the tiny green bit I nudged out of a garden at a home called High Meadows. I was privileged to visit High Meadows, Rex Stout’s home as part of a Wolfe Pack summer trip, and there, in a hidden circle garden, under the drooping chestnut tree, where, according to his grandchildren, he proposed marriage to his wife and tended his beloved irises for decades, grew a bank of moss.
My little bit of Rex Stout’s moss is flourishing in my garden. Not a day goes by without my thinking of one of my heroes—Rex Stout, the creator of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. Isn’t that something to think about? Rex Stout’s moss grows on in my garden.
Think about the things that you have that endure—and those that fade with time. Of those that endure, those that have a deeper meaning and more significance to you than the other things in your life that are transitory and fleeting—do you cultivate them, as I do?
For me, it’s moss. What’s it for you?
I welcome your comments, too.
April 19, 2008
The Words of Your Father (and Mother) Live On
The words we choose to express our thoughts matter more than we might realize. Our words linger on in memory and can provide enduring  strength to those we love. Our words become part of our legacy. Just as an antique’s value increases over time, so too does the value of our words increase.
Josie Prescott, my protagonist, is an antiques appraiser who uses her knowledge of antiques to solve crimes. She got caught up in the big price-fixing scandal that rocked the high-end New York City auction houses a few years ago—she was the whistle blower. Contrary to her naive expectations, she wasn’t lauded; on the contrary—she was shunned, and within weeks, she was out of a job. To make bad worse, her father died, then within weeks, her boyfriend dumped her because, he said, she wasn’t “snapping out of it” fast enough to suit him.
Luckily, Josie was able to recall her father’s words: “When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. If you can’t hang on, move on.” Josie did just that—she moved to New Hampshire to start her own business. Josie’s dad’s words guided her decision to leave a life she loved, but that was no longer available to her, and start over. |
She was confident in her decision because her dad had alerted her to a smart strategy: “You can’t control how you feel, but you can control how you act. Never make decisions based on fear, only hope.”
What a gift Josie’s dad gave her. No matter how tough things get, no matter what challenges Josie will face, no matter how complex the decisions she’ll need to make in the future—she’ll always have the memory of his words. You can do that, too.
I called into a book club dicussion recently. A woman commented on how much she enjoyed Josie’s dad’s sayings. She liked them for them—for their content—but she liked them for another reason, too. They helped her realize that the way she says things to her daughter matters. She has the opportunity to convey her values, to guide her daughter’s actions—to create a living legacy—one that will endure.
I love that.
I’ve listed all of Josie’s dad’s sayings from by book on my website. I invite you to take a spin through his words to see which of his comments speak to you.
And I’d welcome your comments about the tangible and intangible legacies in your life.
April 18, 2008
Libraries and Librarians
I have a lot of librarians in my family. Smart people who love books and readers.
I was raised to believe that librarians knew, essentially, everything. And what they didn’t know, they could find out. Think about that... can you imagine the ability to discover what you want to know—whatever you want to know? What a gift.
Here are two wonderful librarian stories.
 When I was in sixth grade, I had to write a poem about Paul Revere. In order for my rhyme to work, I needed to confirm that his horse was a mare. (I was, from the start, very truthful. It would have been unacceptable to write anything that I hadn’t confirmed as fact.) I believe the line I wrote was something like “...and he rode the horse there, his trusty mare.” All right, all right, I didn’t say it was a good poem. The point of course, is that a librarian helped me document that the horse was a female.
Later, as a teenager, when I was lonely one day, I did what any normal girl would do—I went to the library and hung out with the librarians. Did you know about the Great Molasses Flood of 1919? Twenty-one people died when a tank exploded in Boston and a twenty-foot wall of molasses streamed through the city streets at better than thirty miles an hour. Can you imagine? I learned about that flood that day from a librarian.
I have enjoyed grand solace in libraries. In Newton, Massachusetts, the old library had frosted glass floors in the top stacks. I spent a lot of  time among musty volumes, watching the shadows of other patrons as they walked below me.
In New York City, when they renovated the main branch on Fifth Avenue, the scholarly lions in front were adorned with yellow hard hats. I love that.
As a novelist, I’ve spoken at libraries in Portland, Maine, Los Angeles, and Bowling Green, Ohio. (Where, by the way, I learned that librarians tell Dewey decimal jokes—isn’t that a hoot? Thanks to my Ohio library pals for that tidbit!)
And I have several great events with librarians already on this year’s schedule: In June, I’ll be keynoting at the New Jersey Association of Library Assistants annual conference this October I’ll be speaking at the New England Library Association annual conference.
Copies of the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries are in a private library in Belfast, one of my favorite places on earth.
And I’ve learned that the State Library of New Hampshire selected one of the books as its book of the week. Imagine that—it’s one of only fifty-two books that the New Hampshire State Library selected for the year. I’m amazed and thrilled all at once. It’s so very special to me to be honored by people I hold in such high acclaim—librarians.
As always, I welcome your comments.
April 17, 2008
Lessons I Learned in a Trash Can
The first time I spoke in public professionally, I fell upside down in trash can. There were seventy-six people in the room. This is true.
 I was walking backwards up the center aisle in a hotel’s meeting room holding an example of excellent graphic design high above my head when I ran into the oversized garbage can that one of the hotel workers had forgotten to remove after the noontime refresh. I was wearing a skirt and high heels and I hit the trash can at just the right place to tiddlewink myself into the can head first.
My hair. I have baby fine hair that’s hard to style and all I could think of was how awful and unprofessional I’d look once I got out of the trash can. My second thought was for my suit. It was a soft gray wool suit, the first I’d ever bought and the only one I owned. I had another seminar scheduled in Dayton the next day. What would I do, I wondered, if I couldn’t salvage my suit? My third thought was for my carefully mounted example which had frisbeed somewhere to my left as I’d flipped upside down. It was a really, really great example of an important principle relating to eye path in design and now, as far as I knew, it was gone. How could I make the points I needed to make without it? How could I possibly replace it by the time I got to Dayton?
Time seemed to stand still. Truly, I have no idea if this nightmare lasted seconds or minutes or even longer. At first, I thought I could handle the situation with aplomb.
Then, as panic set in, I stopped thinking. I suddenly realized the true horror of my situation. I was upside down in a trash can with no hope of getting out.
People weren’t laughing, but I didn’t take this to be good news. I figured they were stunned, and thus silent; mortified, and therefore ignoring the situation; or so embarrassed on my behalf there was no comment worth making. I decided to stay in the trash can until every single one of those seventy-six participants left the room. I figured that eventually someone from the hotel would arrive and haul me out and I could skulk away, never to return.
Two men seated nearby approached the can, peered down, and with a quiet “you take the thigh, I’ll take the hip,” hoisted me out and set me upright. They stepped back. I smiled and thanked them politely. Then I thought of my hair and my suit. The trash can was filled with dry goods: discarded newspapers, crumpled napkins, and unwanted advertising flyers, that sort of thing. This was good news. My naturally buoyant optimism leapt forth as I realized that I wouldn’t have to worry about clumps of cherry Danish matting my hair or staining my skirt. It was my lucky day—I’d fallen into the dry goods trash can. Can you imagine how awful it would be to do a header into the discarded coffee bin?
During those first few seconds of recovery, I had the presence of mind to thank my rescuers, smile broadly as if everyone knew this was nothing more than a really clever goof on Jane and they should therefore relax and share the joke, and accept the offering of my beloved, nicely mounted example of excellent design from the woman six rows back who assured me that the bruise she’d received when it struck her shoulder would soon fade from memory. I went on with enormous (if I do say so myself) savoir faire. The seminar was a success.
Which goes to show you that sometimes things that start out bad can end up good. My protagonist, Josie Prescott, for example, got chased ut of her high-powered New York City job because she was the whistle blower in a price-fixing scandal, and she ends up owning her own company in beautiful, business-friendly New Hampshire.
The trick is not to panic and to show grace under pressure. Remember that the next time you fall into a trash can.
I love speaking to readers and writers—and I’m fearless. Bring on the trash can! If you’re hosting an event, I’d love to deliver a keynote address. I have speeches on Killer Antiques, Finding Stolen Art: A Detective Takes on the Nazis, and Behind the Writer’s Veil. Please contact me directly.
So, tell me, have you have fallen into a trash can lately? I welcome your comments.
April 16, 2008
A Stupid Detective and a Nightmare
Tonight, I awaken in a dark room, with my husband sleeping peacefully beside me and my little cat wrapped around my head on my pillow. In the shallow area between sleep and wakening, I realize I’m struggling to loosen the grip of a nightmare.
I take a deep breath and peer into the shadows. Nothing seems out of whack, but my anxiety mounts nonetheless.
I leave the room and walk through the apartment seeking signs of normalcy. The light on the microwave shines like a familiar beacon. From  the dining room, I can see the flagpoles in front of the United Nations. The red neon Pepsi sign sits atop a building in Long Island City, on the far side of the East River. I watch its reflection shimmer on the undulating water. Another cat is comfortably tucked into the sink, his regular sleeping place.
Then I sit on the couch in the living room for a while. I remember some lines from Shakespeare:
O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams.
Check.
 After awhile, my pulse quiets and the ghoulish images become less sharp. And then it comes to me, the origin of the nightmare I endured.
I read a book last night where a plucky female heads up some stairs that anyone with the brains of a grasshopper would know was a stupid thing to do. Obviously, it was devil-made trap. As I was reading, I silently screamed, “Don’t go up the stairs! Don’t go up the stairs!” to no avail. The woman, an amateur sleuth, went up the stairs.
Even though the attack on her was predictable and inevitable, it scared me to death, and my fear didn’t recede—it festered, ultimately leading to my nightmare and subsequent disquiet, and providing me with yet another reason not to allow any character to do stupid things unless the character really is stupid.
Josie Prescott, my protagonist, is smart. She may be an amateur sleuth, and a female, but she never does dumb things like dash into dangerous situations. On the contrary, if Josie thinks there’s a bad guy around, she calls the police. She runs away from trouble. She hides. She does what any of us smart gals would do when faced with peril. And I think that makes for a more interesting read, don’t you?
In Antiques to Die For Josie helps a 12-year old orphan find a missing treasure. I invite you to watch the book trailer. Can you imagine what it would be like to be a 12-year old orphan whose sister is murdered? Can you imagine what it would be like if your sister told you that you owned a treasure—a priceless antique—but you don’t know what it is or where it is? Using her knowledge of antiques, Josie finds the valuable treasure—and solves the crime. And in doing so, she gives a young girl hope. And not once does Josie do anything stupid.
Please visit my website www.janecleland.net. You’ll find an excerpt of the book (text and as a downloadable podcast), along with oodles of fun, give-away drawings and challenges (including the antiques appraisal challenge called What’s It Worth? You Be the Judge), all for free!
Meanwhile, I’m still awake. The dappled light trickling into the living room signals dawn, and finally I’m ready to sleep again, this time, with luck, the sleep that Keats described as, “Full of sweet dreams....”
I hope you slept well last night... and I’d welcome your comments.
April 15, 2008
The Origin of Ideas
One of the questions I’m most frequently asked is where the ideas for the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries come from. Because so many people have asked, I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking about the question, and still, I don’t have a definitive answer.
Sometimes I hear or see something, or read something, and it sticks, and then later, when I need something to move the plot along, out that long-forgotten fact comes—usually, I might say, bearing little resemblance to the original.
For example, twenty years ago, when I was in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, I visited a woman’s house. It was a business call—I owned a rare bookstore and she wanted to sell her books. I was there to look at them and make an offer. She was older, born, at a guess, in about 1910, so at the time, I figured she was about 75. Her house was distinctly middle class, but her decorations were anything but.
Every inch of wall space was covered with oil paintings. I spotted a Van Dyke, two Renoirs, and a Matisse. They weren’t arranged artfully; they were wedged in without any thought of relating one piece of art to another or to the space itself.
At first, I assumed they were reproductions, but they weren’t.
“It’s beautiful,” I said to the woman, pointing to a Monet.
“Yeah,” she remarked casually. “My brother brought them home from the War.”
I was young then and naïve and gullible, and I grew up in a sheltered environment, one in which my parents tried to shield me from evil intentions and acts, so I assumed that she meant that her brother had purchased the art in Europe.
More than twenty years later, I read an article about how Holocaust survivors and their heirs were suing governments, institutions, and individuals for the return of the art the Nazis had methodically ripped off the walls of Jewish homes. For me, it was an epiphany—it was as if someone had slapped me awake. The art on that woman’s walls weren’t the carefully chosen objects of a devoted art collector; they were the bounty of a thief.
And that’s the origin of the plot of Consigned to Death, the first Josie Prescott antiques mystery.
I invite you to read the excerpt (or listen to the audio podcast) of Antiques to Die For. The idea for this book came from Josie’s experience growing up—her mother died when she was 13, so she empathizes with the 12-year old orphan, Paige, who is the central character in the book. In using her knowledge of antiques, Josie is able to find a missing treasure, solve the murder—and give a young girl hope.
So here’s the bottom line—where do ideas come from? Life, mostly.
I hope you slept well last night... and I’d welcome your comments.
April 14, 2008
An Antique Is Worth... What?
My protagonist, Josie Prescott, is an antiques appraiser. It’s her job to set prices rationally, which means prices that can be understood by potential buyers and that make sense in the context of the marketplace. Think it’s easy? Give it a try yourself! What’s It Worth? You Be the Judge is a fun promotion on my website—www.janecleland.net —that challenges you to pit your antiques appraisal skills against those of the professionals at the world-renowned antiques auction house, Leslie Hindman Auctioneers.
Given that the world of antiques is one of the last bastions of pure capitalism—after all, an antique is only worth what someone else will pay for it—some dealers price the customer, not the object. Not Josie. Josie is as honest as the day is long. She never cuts corners in her appraisals. If she needs to bring in an expert, she does so; if she needs to conduct a chemical analysis or another specialized test, she does that, too; and if an appraisal takes longer than a client wants, she’ll explain why, but she won’t hurry a process that takes time.
Among the factors that Josie considers are:
§ Rarity
Rarity refers to how many units were produced. Small writing desks are common today; they weren’t in the eighteenth century. First designed, it was thought, by Captain Josiah Davenport in 1790 for his use on a trans-Atlantic journey, the original Davenport desk was produced by a maker named Gillows. By the mid-nineteenth century, the term “Davenport” was used to refer to any small desk with multiple cubbyholes; it was a popular style. But a Davenport built by Gillows in the first decade after the captain designed it, holy cow—that’s rare!
§ Scarcity
Some objects are fragile—china, pottery, porcelain decorative items, and so on. How many survive the generations? The fewer that are extant, the higher the value.
§ Age
Dating objects is tricky. Consider a table with a drawer, for example. While some fine furniture bears stamps or marks indicating its heritage; most does not. An expert would compare the object to what was common to certain periods. Consider the table’s height, for example—in previous centuries, people were shorter, so tables were lower. Other factors used in dating the table might include the type of wood and the style of drawer pull.
§ Condition
If the object has been repaired, modified to suit modern tastes, or otherwise changed, the value is lowered. The closer the object is to its original condition, including normal wear and tear, the higher the value.
§ Trends
In the 1980s, cookie jars were an enormously popular collectible. No more—the fashion has passed. It may come back, of course, but right now they don’t sell at a premium, whereas 20-25 years ago, they did. Go figure!
§ Quality
Certain makers are known for their superb craftsmanship—Paul Storr, for instance, is known as one of England’s foremost silversmiths working in the nineteenth century. He often created simple shapes that were embellished with various decorative elements, such as a soup tureen featuring chased fluting, gadrooned borders, and lion’s faces and paws. Storr’s ability to create embellishments of such fine detail consistently is unparalleled; quality such as this commands a higher price.
§ Provenance
Provenance refers to an unbroken trail of ownership. In addition, an appraiser needs to consider whether the object has clear title. As Jennine pointed out in her comment: "'Provenance' is different than 'title.' While something can have the perfect provenance (or chain of custody), that does not necessarily preclude that it has a clear chain of title. Something can be held in one family for many decades and have the perfect 'provenance' but if the work of art is not properly probated through an estate, then it does not have clear title."
In addition to those factors, an antiques appraiser frequently needs specialized knowledge—he or she has to know what to look for. I find the appraisal process fascinating—and I enjoy writing about how Josie uses her knowledge of antiques to solve crimes.
On my website, www.janecleland.net, you’ll find copies of all my newsletters. Each issue of my newsletter discusses an intriguing aspect of the antiques appraisal process.
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| March 26, 2008 |
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Gravitas for Cozy Gals
At the recent mystery conference, Left Coast Crime, I moderated a panel entitled, “What’s My Niche? Cozies With a Theme.” As the author of the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries, that topic is right up my alley.
My panel was intended to include four authors of themed-cozy mysteries, but one fell ill, and one had a day job, business emergency, so I was left with only two authors: Rosemary Harris and Cricket McRae. Don’t get me wrong—these two are fabulous—they’re terrific writers, engaging speakers, and all around nice gals... but two participants does not a panel make.
Enter Edgar nominee, Reed Farrel Coleman, who writes gritty New York noir sorts of mysteries. I told him about the situation and he jumped in, offering to be a panelist. I eagerly accepted. I know Reed to have keen insight into the overall world of mysteries—he was the former executive vice president (EVP)—read chief operating officer—of the Mystery Writers of America, and a couple of years ago, before be became EVP and before I became the president of Mystery Writers of America/New York Chapter (MWA/NY), I’d worked with him for several months—we were both on the MWA/NY board of directors.
From my perspective, I pounced on the opportunity because I knew Reed would do a great job, and I thought that he would lend us cozy gals gravitas. More on that in a moment.
I hadn’t known that Reed has another qualification: he teaches a short summer course at Hofstra University on mystery writing. As he put it, he needs to know how to guide his students in all sub-genres, including cozies.
A podcast of the panel is available on my website, ready for you to download. (As an aside, I audio record all of these blogs, and they’re available as podcasts, too. So are all of the other panels I participated in and on at LCC. Various interviews are posted online, too.)
Back to Reed adding gravitas: Cozies get little to no respect in the mystery community. Many of us who write in this sub-genre prefer the descriptor traditional—to some people the term “cozy” connotes poorly plotted books in which a cat solves the crime. That’s not true of course, or at least it’s not always true, but it’s a stigma that has stuck. Cozies are, in fact, among the fastest growing sub-genres in the mystery world. Readers like them. They like series where they get to know the town and its characters, where order is made out of chaos, and where good trumps evil every time.
My books, the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries, do just that—but they’re also serious and literary. Kirkus Reviews, one of the most prestigious reviewing entities, has a reputation for not liking most books. So far, I’m thrilled to report that they’ve liked mine. They’ve called the series “erudite.” As you might imagine, I was over the moon when I read that! I ran around the house calling, “I got the ‘E’ word! I got the ‘E’ word!” They also wrote: “Antiques Roadshow fans and mystery lovers will delight!” I love Kirkus Reviews.
Sometimes, looking at my book covers, you’ve got to wonder, though. We’re morphed from serious (the Consigned to Death hardcover) to playful (the about-to-be-released Antiques to Die For). My style of writing hasn’t changed—the stories are still fair-play traditional mysteries with a literary ethos—but more books sell with lighter-hearted covers. Fine by me.
But because the books look un-serious, and because I’m a niche writer of a themed cozy series—I was delighted that Reed joined us. His literary muscle; multiple awards and award nominations; his stellar reputation in the field; and the sheer beauty of his prose added gravitas to us cozy gals. Thanks, Reed. |
| February 21, 2008 |
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Finding My Way: Thoughts on Plotting
In Antiques to Die For, the third Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery, I wrote without an outline. Boy, was that a mistake. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that. Writing without an outline worked out pretty well in the first two books in the series, but man, it sure didnt with this one.
Not that I knew it at the time, but what I think happened is that I succumbed to the allure of the moment. I fell in love with minor subplots, unnecessary characters, and intriguing, but irrelevant descriptions. I lost my rhythm.
Luckily, my brilliant St. Martins Minotaur editor, executive editor, Hope Dellon, helped me understand where and how Id gone astray. Her specific observations enabled me to get back on track. But theres a cautionary tale in all this: revising it was a nightmare. Id gone off on so many tangents and got myself so completely confused that I, essentially, had to start all over. Id wasted time creating engaging, but distracting and irrelevant, characters; it was a mess.
Dont get me wrong—Im completely thrilled with the final product—and Im delighted to report that Antiques to Die For is getting great reviews. Publishers Weekly, for instance, wrote that Antiques to Die For was "a cleverly crafted cozy." Isnt that nice? Very gratifying. Kirkus Reviews, which many authors report frequently publishes negative reviews, has consistently been good to me. They said that Antiques to Die For features "a fine array of suspects."
Here's the macro lesson: by listening to my editor, I was able to find my way back to the story. It's always about the story. I wanted to write about a 12-year old girl who was all alone. I wanted Josie to be able to help her. Instead, I was writing about a porcelain expert in Asia. Let me explain. My problems fell into three broad categories: Tangents, sub-plots, and irrelevant characters.
Tangents. I got caught up in my own writing. I don't mean to sound immodest, but it's true. There I am, writing along, when all of a sudden, I realize I've gone into a long, fascinating (to me) description detailing the background of a porcelain expert. For example, this expert had a love affair with an international student when he was at college, which led him to follow her back to her country after graduation. Okay, I'll stop there. But in my manuscript, I didn't stop at all. I went on and on for pages. All for what should have been a one paragraph cameo appearance.
Sub-plots. My problem with sub-plots is related to my problem with tangents. For instance, I thought the porcelain expert's experience in Asia could become a nifty sub-plot about fake pottery. While I always include sub-plots about antiques and collectibles, this one, while interesting, took me in the wrong direction. My sub-plots must meet these standards: they're antiques-oriented, not character-oriented; they're local to New Hampshire either because they occur in New Hampshire or they feature a New Hampshire person or object; and they showcase Josie as an expert. Whew, was I on a misguided mission by heading off to Asia. That might be a great story—but it's not appropriate in this story.
Irrelevant characters. It's so, so hard for me to resist painting mini-portraits of every character I mention in the book, from the mailman to the Asian girlfriend that the porcelain expert followed to her home. I love people and I love discovering their quirks and peccadilloes. But it's an indulgence, and it's not good writing. Having to focus on minor characters distracts readers from the main event.
By following Hope's guidance, I succeeded in finding my way back. And by finding my way back, I was able to tell the story I wanted to tell. I hope you enjoy Antiques to Die For.
Here's what the book is about:
After setting up shop as an antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott's life has not gone according to plan: business is booming and she has good friends and a promising romance—but dead bodies keep crossing her path. And now, in Antiques to Die For , a friend is killed just hours after confiding a secret to Josie, leaving a bereaved sister who reminds Josie of herself when her mother died.
It turns out that the victim had other secrets, too: a mysterious treasure she told her sister she was leaving behind—and a secret admirer who now seems to be turning his creepy attention to Josie.
Can you imagine what it would be like to be a 12-year old orphan whose sister is murdered? Can you imagine what it would be like if your sister told you that you owned a treasure—a priceless antique—but you don't know what it is or where it is?
Set on the beautiful and rugged New Hampshire coastline, Antiques to Die For is filled with antiques lore and complex plot twists. In the end, using her knowledge of antiques, Josie finds the valuable treasure—and solves the crime. And in doing so, she gives a young girl hope.
I hope you'll give it a whirl. A text and downloadable podcast of Antiques to Die For, and a book trailer, are available on my website.
For Josie #4 (due out April 2009, tentatively titled Killer Keepsakes), I wrote a detailed synopsis. It ran almost 40 pages. Forty pages! Can you imagine?
It was the first time I'd ever attempted to create an outline of this complexity. Now, as I write this blog entry, I'm within spitting distance of the end, and I can report with confidence that I'm very glad I wrote that synopsis.
From now on, I'm an outline girl! |
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| January 21, 2008 |
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The Anatomy of Persuasion |
I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about the nature of persuasive arguments. Why is one person good at it, and not another?
Certainly, one needs well-framed and well-developed content and a delivery style people find pleasant to listen to or read—after all, people aren't stupid and they won't pay attention unless they want to. But that's all theory... in order to become more persuasive in person or in print, I needed to understand more about the structure of persuasion. I developed the Matrix of Persuasion to help me persuade others to my points of view.
You'll notice that across the top I'm contrasting two variables: are people "on your side"? Or not? On the left, I'm considering whether people have the resources they need to do as I ask. Are they constrained? Or not?
As an aside, I'll mention that while I'm presenting the matrix to you as black and white—people either are constrained or they aren't—it's not that simple. There's degrees. Someone might have the money, but not the time, for instance. Likewise on the variables of whether they're on your side or not—they may know you only a little bit. Think of the matrix as a bit amorphous—more gray than black and white.
By identifying which of the four quadrants your persuasive task fits into, you'll be better able to identify your readers' or listeners' needs, and thus write or speak more effectively.
As you review the matrix, note that you're first asked to determine if your target readers are "On your side" or "Not on your side." Think about the people you're trying to reach. Do they know you? Do they like you? Are they predisposed in your favor? Or not?
Next, consider whether they're capable of doing as you ask, or are they constrained? Do they have the requisite time, authority, interest, motivation, money, or whatever resources are needed to do what you're hoping they will do? Or are there constraints that you'll need to help them overcome?
The implications are expressed as bullet points within each quadrant. Doesn't it make sense that if you're trying to persuade someone to do something they're capable of doing, it's an easier persuasion task than trying to persuade someone to do something when they don't know who you are? In that case, first you have to educate them as to why you're credible.
The Matrix of Persuasion is a "big-picture" tool. It will help you get your thoughts in order. It allows you to take what you know and consider how best to use this information to influence outcomes by analyzing the anatomy of persuasion. |
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| December 9, 2007 |
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| Write to Touch Your Readers’ Hearts and Minds |
Kate White, editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan magazine and the best-selling author of the Bailey Weggins mystery series, said she frequently reminds herself to write big and bold—to find the best way of expressing exactly what it is she wants to say to knock her readers' socks off.
"I have a tendency to hold back with my writing," she wrote, "be a little tentative about going big and bold." She added that she doubted she was the only one.
I think that's true and I think it relates to trying to please all the people all the time. Can't be done, of course, but that doesn't stop many of us from trying.
The idea of writing big and bold appeals to me in every way. I like the words themselves—big and bold—and I like the image those words conjure up for me. If I write big and bold, it's possible that my words will impact people, will make them think, encourage them to do their best, or inspire them to take courageous action.
But it's far easier said than done because what speaks to one reader's heart and mind doesn't necessarily touch another at all. You know that old adage, One man's meat is another man's poison. Certainly that's true in mysteries. To paraphrase, One reader's "big and bold" isn't another reader's "big and bold." The trick, I think, is knowing what's big and bold to your target readers.
Julia Spencer-Fleming, who won the 2007 Nero Award, told me that in her new novel, I Shall Not Want (coming in May 2008 from St. Martin's Minotaur), she has an ungrammatical line that the copy editor tried to "clean up." The line is: "In the church."
Think about that! When readers of her Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne mysteries read one of the series, they know what they're getting. Julia describes them as "novels of faith and murder for readers of literary suspense." Big and bold in this context is: "In the church."
I'm currently writing the fourth entry in my traditional mystery series featuring antiques appraiser, Josie Prescott. As I'm writing, I ask myself what's big and what's bold to my readers. I know that big and bold is evocative and meaningful. And I know that big and bold statements relate to the themes that reoccur in the books, and that seem to resonate with my readers.
Those themes include Josie's emotional strength; her romantic and tender relationship with Ty Alverez; her Portsmouth-based company's growth; the ever-presence of the ocean tides and the enduring beauty of Rocky Point's dunes and sandy beach; Josie's efforts to establish a community and fit in; and antiques lore.
Here are some big and bold statements that will occur in Josie #4, Killer Keepsakes:
- Prescott's: Antiques and Auctions was featured as the top small antiques auction house, and I was proud as punch.
- "Cope first, fall apart later. Your friend needs you, Josie," my father told me. "Cope first, fall apart later."
- I'd felt sucker-punched, as if I'd fallen into a black hole I couldn't climb out of, a dark downward spiral filled with jarring misery.
- After I got settled, I pressed my forehead against the bay window and cupped my hands over my eyes, trying to see the lighthouse on the far bank. I knew it was there, but in the darkness and rain, I couldn't make it out. Its light shone through, however, a wide sweep of gold arcing rhythmically side-to-side, over and over again, alerting ships that they were approaching land. It was hypnotic.
What about it? Do any of those words speak to you? Do they touch your heart or mind? I hope so, and of course, as always, I welcome your comments. |
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| November 19, 2007 |
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A Cynic's Views of
Thanksgiving Volunteers
Here’s an example of why I sometimes have trouble admiring people who volunteer on Thanksgiving and Christmas at organizations like soup kitchens. I overheard a woman explain her intentions by saying, “My son is going to his girlfriend’s family, so we might as well.” In other words, she and her husband are volunteering because they have nothing better to do.
Most soup kitchens don’t need volunteers on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Lots of people volunteer on those days. Since the commitment is minimal, it’s actually not that much effort, and it sounds so good when you mention it at holiday cocktail parties.
Soup kitchens—and many other kinds of organizations that function year-round and depend on volunteers—like suicide prevention hotlines, homeless shelters, hospital gift shop clerks, and so on—need volunteers every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Some are desperate for qualified helpers. You want to impress me at a cocktail party, tell me about that kind of volunteer effort.
I worked on a 24-hour suicide prevention/crisis intervention hotline for more than seven years, and I wish I could still do it, but I can’t. I can’t do it because I work two full-time jobs and volunteer in two additional roles. My jobs include my “day job” as an instructional designer/corporate trainer and my “other job” as a novelist. My volunteer commitments include serving as the president of Mystery Writers of America/New York Chapter and the chair of the Wolfe Pack’s literary awards. (We’re the folks that give out the Nero and the new Black Orchid Novella award.) I barely have time to sleep.
I confess to daydreaming about the day that my career as a novelist takes off so that I can cut back on day job work (which, by the way, I’m fortunate enough to love). One of the first things I’ll do is volunteer at the suicide prevention hotline, or a similar organization, again.
The hotline I volunteered for was humanistic, non-religious, non-therapeutic, and non-intervention-based. I loved my work there. We volunteers fielded more than 45,000 calls a year from our fellow citizens. To qualify for work on the hotline, I had to complete a 13-week certificate training program. Most of the training focused on communications. To stay “Active,” I had to fulfill a once/week commitment of four to five hours, plus a monthly overnight. A commitment like that is different from serving soup once or twice a year.
America has a very high rate of volunteerism, and I honor everyone who donates time. That said, and perhaps you find me cynical, but I admire people who volunteer all year round more than those who only volunteer when it’s convenient and easy.
As Dr. M. Scott Peck once wrote, “Love equals time spent.” |
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October 8, 2007 — Read Jane's blog as guest on The Lipstick Chronicles
(scroll down the page to October 8)
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| October 28, 2007 |
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Managing Time Wisely: It’s All in Your Head
For many years, I was the official "cookie baker" for my family’s holiday get-togethers. Chocolate chip cookies were my specialty, but I dabbled in sugar, chocolate, apple, creamy fillings, and other gourmet styles, too.
As the years passed, and I became busier at work, I grew less entranced with the prospect of baking dozens of cookies under enormous time constraints. In fact, to me, baking cookies for the holidays became a duty, not a pleasure. Then came the year when I was up past midnight completing the task. I was irritated and snappy. The next day, I grumbled to my husband that this had to stop. "I’m too busy to bake all these cookies!" I complained. And, cleverly, I thought, I asked him to call my mother and tell her that I was no longer going to bake cookies. He declined.
The next year, as cookie-baking time approached, I girded myself, picked up the phone and said, "Ma, I’ve made a decision. I’m just too busy. This year, I’m not going to bake cookies. I’m going to buy them instead."
I’d expected a long, sad silence, followed by, "All right, dear," or some similar, kindly worded phrase that left me feeling inadequate and guilty. Instead, do you know what my mother said? "Sounds smart!"
And in that one flash of a moment, I learned an important lesson. I learned that what I’d perceived as an obligation had never, in fact, existed at all. My family thought I liked baking cookies. And I did! I just didn’t like having to bake them. I’d volunteered once, then a second time, then a third, until finally it became an expected part of family get-togethers. I could have stopped any time, but I didn’t think I could The sense that it was a non-negotiable duty was all in my own head.
I recall that story a lot when I’m struggling with time management issues. I really, really want to spend my time doing things I value—not doing things other people value—or doing things because I think other people value them—or doing things that have become part of a tradition simply because they’re been done in the past.
That’s pretty unconventional thinking, I know. Most people value traditions for their own sake. I don’t. I value traditions for the deeper meaning they convey to me at that moment in time. And those deeper meanings shift as my circumstances and needs change.
For instance, I used to decorate like a wild woman for every holiday. I don’t anymore. For Halloween, as an example, I’d suspend paper skeletons from the ceiling in front of windows, adding backlighting so they’d glow eerily as they fluttered, and I’d hung a metal wreath of black cats with raised backs on the front door. To say nothing of the spiders and cobwebs and jack-o-lanterns! Now I put a few mini-pumpkins on the fireplace mantle and call it a day.
Why the change? I liked my big-time decorations—a lot. It was fun to do and fun to live with. I don’t do it anymore because I don’t need the joy the decorations provided to fill a void and I’d rather spend my time doing other things.
During the period when I’d decorated every nook and cranny of my apartment, I was enduring a tough time in my life—my mother had died, my brother had died, my beloved cat had died, and I’d gotten divorced after a 20-year marriage—all within a year or so. Decorating provided joy during a joyless time.
Things are different now. I’m happily remarried and doing work I adore. For the moment, all is well in my world.
Time—we all have only so much of it. If you’re like me, you strive to spend it wisely, by your own definition of "wise." But if you bake cookies for the holidays, may I please have one? |
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| September 23, 2007 |
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Living by the United Nations
I live on the block that ends at the United Nations. The General Assembly is about to sit for its annual meeting. Many countries’ leaders are in town. Security is high.
Security has always been high, but since 9/11, it’s been astonishing. Last year, for the first time ever, I was stopped from entering my own block. The president of Pakistan was stepping out from his hotel into a limo as I stood watching, a block away. I wonder if anything similar will occur this year.
During this two-week period, routine security precautions include a heightened police presence, ID checks in order to step onto the block, and bomb-sniffing dogs that cruise up and down the sidewalks.
There will be snipers on the U.N. roof gazing at me as I watch them from my dining room window, but there won’t be many cars. Almost no vehicles are allowed on the block during this time, and those that are have been checked six ways to Sunday. There’ll be a staging area set up on the block before mine to vet automobiles. They use a nice-looking tent as an office. It covers half the street, and between you and me, I burn with curiosity about what transpires inside.
There’s also lots of Secret Service fellows around—you can recognize them by their handsome dark suits and the flesh-colored curly wire that runs from their ears along their necks, disappearing under their jackets. Last year I spotted two females. They wore dark suits too. I wonder whether there’ll be more women this year.
Remote car door openers don’t work. Somehow, the signal is blocked and locked cars have to be opened the old-fashioned way—with a key.
I get a kick out of all the fervor. Being in the presence of so much earnest security makes me feel that I’m in the thick of things. It’s exciting! And as I think of it, I am, in fact, in the thick of things. The Egyptian Mission to the U.N. is next door. Kuwait is across the street. Nigeria is on the corner and India is half a block away, near the tent.
I love living in New York City all the time, but I especially love it when the weather’s crisp, and the trees are dappled with deep orange and fiery red and iridescent yellow, and the apples I buy at the Green Market at Union Square are fresh and crunchy and sweet, and the diplomats return for another season of trying to keep the peace.
For me, this experience of dramatic security measures on the street where I live is one of the first signs of autumn. How do you know when it’s autumn? What happens in your neck of the woods that’s unique? I’d welcome your comments. |
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| September 12, 2007 |
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Josie’s Going on a Road Trip
Josie Prescott, my protagonist, is an antiques appraiser. As her reputation grows she receives offers from farther and farther afield. In the fourth book in the series, as yet untitled, and in fact, as yet unwritten, Josie finds herself in the suburbs of Boston. Her reputation has grown and I decided to take her on a road trip!
Do you remember the charming television series, Murder She Wrote? Do you remember how most of the small town died violently giving the protagonist, Angela Lansbury fodder to investigate? I always wondered about that—I’ve heard it referred to as the Cabot Cove effect—realistically, how many people can you kill off in a small town before people flee the region? Aren’t you surprised that, towards the end of the series, Angela Lansbury’s neighbors didn’t flee when she approached? Knowing her seemed to be the kiss of death.
One way around the Cabot Cove effect is to take your protagonist out of town, and in the last several years of the television series, the writers did just that. Angela Lansbury spent several episodes in New York City, and I recall her going skiing, boating, and to L.A. as well. Anticipating the problem, I’m getting Josie out of Dodge sooner rather than later.
In the third book in the series, Antiques to Die For, which will be out in April 2008, Josie is still in New Hampshire... although she does drive across the bridge into Maine. But I decided that in book four, Josie was going farther afield. I like to travel and have done a lot of it over the years, so in considering where to send her, I have a fairly wide range of place options to call on, places where I’ve actually been.
For awhile I thought of sending Josie to Hong Kong. I love Hong Kong, but the truth is I love the Hong Kong that existed before the handover in ’99. A sultry mix of British formality and Chinese mystique, Hong Kong was vibrant and multi-layered and infinitely fascinating. Now it seems to be a nice, big Chinese city, but to me, it’s no longer romantic or exotic. Morocco was another possibility, or Tunisia, or even Egypt. I decided against all of them because I concluded that it would be impossible to write a mystery without integrating the turmoil that’s currently a fact of life in the Middle East, and I didn’t want to write that book. Someday Josie will travel to Europe—London and Paris, for sure, and maybe Rome. And if all goes according to plan, she’ll be in New York City in the fifth book. But for book four, I decided to keep her closer to home, so she’s going to the suburbs of Boston.
I know the area well; I grew up there. Funny isn’t it, how sometimes, traveling takes you home again. |
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| August 12, 2007 |
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Writing Fear
Anticipation, writers agree, is more fearful than the act.
At tonight's New York Public Library panel entitled, "WOMEN OF MYSTERY: PEEK UNDER THE WRITER’S VEIL," which I moderated, New York Times bestselling author Mary Jane Clark described a scene in one of her books that takes place at the Home Depot.
Picture this—a character cruising the store’s aisles. Into the cart goes an ax. Then rope. Then plastic bags. I don’t know about you, but that’s scary. You know what’s happening, and maybe you even know why. And you’re powerless to stop it.
Mary Anne Kelly, author of the mystery series featuring the ever bewildered amateur sleuth, Claire Breslinsky, agreed. Mary Anne mentioned the recent news story about Lisa Nowak, the astronaut charged with driving more than a thousand miles hoping to kill her romantic rival. She had duct tape in the car.
"Duct tape," Mary Anne said. "I can’t get the duct tape out of my mind. Imagine driving all that way with duct tape. Don’t you just know that she planned to do something awful with it?"
Simple everyday products with no specific information given about how they’ll be used. As readers, we don’t need the details. Our imaginations take over and fill in the blanks.
What scares you? How about a cell phone ringing—not yours—when you think you’re alone? A knife that should be on the kitchen counter, and isn’t. A dripping sound coming from the bathtub, and when you walk in to turn off the leaking faucet, you see that the bathtub has been filled. Maybe there’s soap bubbles from an aromatic bubble bath product you’ve never seen before. Every day items and every day situations. Hmmm, now I’m thinking. |
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| July 12, 2007 |
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To Outline, Or Not to Outline, That Is the Question
 It was my pleasure to interview Chris Grabenstein at this year’s Deadly Ink Conference. He was the Guest of Honor. He was good!
I focused my questions on two broad arenas: his writing and himself.
For instance, I asked him whether he outlined—he doesn’t. Despite writing three books a year, he doesn’t structure the stories in advance. It’s all in his head. He walks or runs with his dog, Fred, a refugee from the Broadway show, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, by the way, and thinks about each day’s work. Chris so hates writing outlines—and from them, synopses, he’d rather write an entire book on spec than write a synopsis first. It’s a strategy that has worked well for him.
I take a different tack—with new projects, I have always created an outline, and from it a synopsis, but with existing projects, like the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries, I haven’t. I just jump in and start to write. No more. I’m going to start outlining everything.
Don’t get me wrong. I know who done it and how. I know why the murder occurred. I know a few clues I’ll plant along the way. But that’s it. I’ve got a real big picture view and nothing else.
Let me explain my thinking by explaining the process I go through to sell a new book idea. I write a proposal.
In order to write an articulate and persuasive proposal, you need to provide enough detail so that acquiring editors “get it,” without loading them down with so much minutia that reading the synopsis becomes tedious. If you think it’s easy, try it sometime.
What works for me is to create a detailed, chapter-by-chapter outline and use that as a framework to write the synopsis. The hidden benefit: If and when the book sells, you’ve got a solid foundation to build on. Writing the book is easier and far more efficient. Which is why I’m going to start following this procedure even when I don’t have to.
Here's my thinking. I’m just about done with the third book in the Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery series. It’s titled Antiques to Die For. Cute, isn’t it? What a tough time I had writing it. I was all across the board with plot points getting tangled with subplots. It took me longer to write and revise it than I think it should have. Next time, for Josie #4 (still untitled), I’ll create an outline. I’ll bitch and moan and fret and announce to all who’ll listen how much I hate to outline. But you know what? I’m going to be way happier come time to write the book. I can have pain throughout or I can have pain now, and less pain later. I vote for Plan B.
Speaking of less pain, did you know that Chris and his delightful wife, Jen, don’t much like to travel on vacations? I asked what they like to do on vacation and was fascinated to hear his answer: nothing. Chris said they used to travel so much—him on advertising business, her as a member of the cast of various traveling theatre productions, that now, when they want a rest, they go to Central Park. Chris and I differ in this way, too. I like vacations.
My husband, Joe, and I like to snorkel. But we’re skipping this year. This, we’ve decided, is The Year of Work.
We will sneak away for one delicious weekend this summer for our annual rafting trip on the Delaware River. We go with friends. It’s glorious—but don’t misunderstand. It’s more of a float than it is white water. We call it riffle rafting. On nice days, I spend most the trip swimming alongside the raft. But even if it’s gray and dreary, or cold, or rainy, we have fun. We talk about everything from food to jobs to plans for the future to politics and religion. We’re good friends who respect one another’s views. And then we barbeque. And then we go our separate ways.
Next year we expect to go snorkeling again. I miss looking at fish. And of course, we’ll go rafting as usual.
I hope you have a wonderful vacation. And if you haven’t read Deadly Appraisal or Consigned to Death, I gotta tell you... they make terrific beach reads! Send us a photo holding one of the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries and we’ll post it on the Greetings Page of my website.
I’d love to hear about your vacation plans, or your comments on outlining. Back to work for me! |
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| June 20 , 2007 |
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Selecting the Finalists for the Nero Award
I'm the chair of the Wolfe Pack's literary awards. We're the folks who give out the Nero—an annual award presented to an American author for literary excellence in the mystery genre that honors the tradition of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe stories.
On some level, my job as chair is largely one of project management. Well, it's actually more hands-on than that, as I think of it. It's my responsibility to maintain the publisher lists, solicit submissions, ensure that my team of readers (five members of the Wolfe Pack and me) has the books, and create a decision-making model to objectively interpret their opinions.
This year, I asked the readers to rank their findings. Many of us found that tough to do. But it was helpful to me in selecting the finalists to have the books ranked.
For instance, let's say two books appear on three of the six lists. If the lists were submitted in no particular order, how could I differentiate between the two options? If, on the other hand, when I looked at the rankings, one of the books is the fourth or fifth favorite on all three lists, that makes a different statement than if the other book is the number one choice for two readers and the number three choice for the other person who selected it. Suddenly, my decision is clear.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. The readers took their assignments very seriously and often annotated their rankings explaining why one book was chosen ahead of another even though both were top-drawer contenders. Should I consider the merit of their opinions? Or should I simply go with the numerical rankings? One reader had a favorite, and then listed six others as a six-way tie for second place. One reader thought the field was especially strong this year, and couldn't narrow her listing to fewer than eight options. And so on.
As objectively as I could, I narrowed the field to three—and we're all pretty excited! All three books are stellar examples of literary excellence in the mystery genre. I encourage you to give them a whirl. This year's finalists are:
- Kidnapped Jan Burke, Simon & Schuster
- All Mortal Flesh Julia Spencer-Fleming, St. Martin's Minotaur/Thomas Dunne Books
- A Stolen Season Steve Hamilton, St. Martin's Minotaur/Thomas Dunne Books
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Four additional readers will render our final decision. The final readers include a member of Rex Stout's family; one of the script writers of the Arts & Entertainment television series; a successful novelist; and a publishing executive.
It is an honor to serve in this role—I am such a huge Rex Stout fan that to do my part to keep his wonderful books alive is a great joy. Are you a Rex Stout fan, too? You'll find all sorts of fun trivia in my books. From one of Wolfe's favorite words to the name of Eric's dog and Archie's most-hated cop, you'll find these and many other references tucked into the prose!
As to this year's Nero Award... want to know the winner? The award is announced at the Black Orchid Banquet, which will be, as it is every year, held on the first Saturday in December in New York City. It's a blast! Come and join us!
For details about the Banquet—and all things Nero Wolfe, please visit www.nerowolfe.org.
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| May 26, 2007 |
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June's Questions
June decided to give Consigned to Death a whirl. Here's what she said: "I read it in ONE day. I LOVED it!!!"
Made my day to read that, I can tell you!
She went on: "I tried to get a copy of your new book, Deadly Appraisal, but EVERY library in Eastern Massachusetts has this book checked out! I went on a wait list but it's a six week wait. I couldn't wait that long to read it, so my husband surprised me with it the other day. He bought me a copy at Borders in Nashua. I've already started reading it, and I love this one as well."
Isn't that nice? June went on. "I loved the 'sayings/quotes' that Josie's parents told her. Are these just part of your writing or did your parents ever say these things to you?"
Well, let me answer that. [answer is on audio]
"Josie was nervous about moving and starting over in a new state/city. Did you find it hard to give up your shop in Portsmouth and move to NYC?"
Before I answer this one—and the next—read what June wrote about Portsmouth:
"I can only imagine how hard it must be to start over in a new place. How long did you have your shop for in Portsmouth? My sister lived in Portsmouth and when I visited her, we would walk around downtown to the different shops. I even had my fortune told by a fortune teller there. It's a wonderful place."
[answers are on audio]
June went on:
"As I was reading Consigned to Death, I could picture in my mind a lot of the settings. Especially the diner where Josie and Wes met. I hate driving the big circle rotary in Portsmouth. I pictured the diner right near there. I also could picture Josie's Antique Shop mixed in with all the other wonderful shops in Portsmouth. It was wonderful reading about a place you actually have been to and can relate to."
As an aside, I want to mention that Josie doesn't actually have a shop. Josie's weekly tag sale venue is as close as she comes to running an open shop. Plus her location is off I-95—not near other charming shops. Don't you hate people like me—people who pick up on the details? (That's a joke... I assume you all love details and precision, as much as I do!)
June wrote: "The best thing about your novel was the ending. You did NOT reveal the Murderer until the very end. I hate stories where the Murderer is revealed too soon. You hold the reader until the LAST page!!!"
I'm editing now... because June gives a spoiler, but her comment that she enjoyed the ending of the book is so thrilling to me! Thank you, June. I'm so pleased I kept you guessing!
June adds, "Your knowledge regarding Antiques is outstanding. My husband has been collecting antique clocks and other items for years. You should hear my house at twelve o'clock when they all go off. (LOL)
"Did your love of Antiques help with your decision to write?
"Or, have you always been interested in writing?
"Will you continue with further Josie novels? I HOPE SO."
[The answers to June's questions are on audio.]
"I noticed on your website you do book signings," June wrote. "Do you ever get to Massachusetts or New Hampshire? I want to Thank You for reading this email. I hope you don't mind my asking questions?”
No, June, I'm thrilled that you asked. I look forward to hearing from you again.
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| May 11, 2007 |
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SUCCESS WITHOUT WINNING
Forever more, I will be a finalist for the Agatha Award. Which is to say, Consigned to Death wasn't selected as the Best First Novel. While the book didn't win, I still feel like a winner.
So many people at the Malice Domestic Conference offered kind comments, it would be hard to feel anything but good -- and special. My publisher, St. Martin's Minotaur sent 800 copies of Consigned to Death -- one for every participant. I'm incredibly grateful for this vote of confidence.
I'm in the early-middle portion of my book tour, so I'm not writing this BLOG – or the newsletter – as frequently as I do when I'm in New York City.. But I'm meeting scores of my favorite kinds of people: book lovers and booksellers, and I'm getting reacquainted with old friends around the country and introducing readers to Josie.
Here's my upcoming schedule. Please stop by if I'm coming to your neck of the woods! It would be a pleasure to meet you. With regards, Jane |
I would welcome your comments.
Just wanted to say that I have great admiration for people who take the time to acknowledge others who have influenced their lives.
All the best.
Regards,
Donna Carrick
www.donnacarrick.com
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| April 12, 2007 |
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My Good Friend, Karen Quinn
Years and years ago, an American Express vice president named Karen Quinn attended my Dun & Bradstreet seminar, and based on that experience, hired me to do training for her company’s marketing education group. That began a long relationship that continues to this day. Karen has influenced my life in countless ways, and I suspect she doesn’t know the full impact she’s had on me.
Karen has always been a role model of mine. She’s smart and trusting. She gave me the opportunity to provide top-notch training under her aegis. Although I’d been training in blue-chip corporations for a decade or more, this was one of the first times that a client gave me such latitude. During the years we worked together there, I developed seven seminars for their particular needs, and to this day, American Express remains one of my favorite work experiences.
Karen’s assistance and support didn’t stop there. She also introduced me to several other professional contacts. A large part of my business career traces directly to Karen.
Oddly, we both ventured into fiction at about the same time. Karen’s first book, The Ivy Chronicles, was a huge success and will soon be a movie starring Catherine Zeta-Jones. It’s available in paperback, by the way, and contains a fictionalized account of Karen’s departure from American Express that is so funny... well, I don’t want to spoil anything for you... trust me... buy the book! Her new book, Wife in the Fast Lane, promises to be another winner. Here’s what it’s about:
Christy Hayes is a case study in successful living. She’s won two Olympic gold medals, built a multimillion-dollar business, and landed a gorgeous and powerful CEO husband. But Christy’s dream life begins to unravel when she inherits custody of an eleven-year-old girl named Renata. Suddenly she finds herself battling three formidable opponents: a treacherous business partner bent on ousting her from the company she founded, a ruthless stay-at-home mom who’ll stop at nothing to maintain her PTA power base, and a stunning single woman scheming to steal her husband. Throw in the demands of one high-maintenance spouse and it’s clear: something’s got to give. But what? Her marriage? Her career? Her sanity?
Doesn’t that sound wonderful? It does to me, too! I’ve bought the book, and I encourage you to do so, too. Read an excerpt at Karen’s website: www.karenquinn.net.
Karen continues to be an inspiration to me. I admire many things about her, but none as much as her generosity of spirit. It is a pleasure to be able to write about, to talk about, someone I so admire. |
I would welcome your comments.
Just wanted to say that I have great admiration for people who take the time to acknowledge others who have influenced their lives.
All the best.
Regards,
Donna Carrick
www.donnacarrick.com
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| March 31, 2007 |
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Libraries and Librarians
I have a lot of librarians in my family. Smart people who value data-driven decision-making and who try to create order out of chaos.
I was raised to believe that librarians knew, essentially, everything. And what they didn’t know, they could find out. Think about that... can you imagine the ability to discover what you want to know—whatever you want to know? What a gift.
Consigned to Death is doing very well in libraries. It’s popular enough to be on waiting lists, still after almost a year. That so excites me. I can imagine readers asking their librarian for a certain kind of mystery, and Consigned to Death is one of the recommended reads. How completely cool is that?
Here are two wonderful librarian stories.
When I was in sixth grade, I had to write a poem about Paul Revere. In order for my rhyme to work, I needed to confirm that his horse was a mare. (I was, from the start, very truthful. It would have been unacceptable to write anything that I hadn’t confirmed as fact.) I believe the line I wrote was something like “...and he rode the horse there, his trusty mare.” All right, all right, I didn’t say it was a good poem. The point of course, is that a librarian helped me document that the horse was a female. I got an A, by the way, for that particular poem.
Later, as a teenager, when I was lonely one day, I did what any normal girl would do—I went to the library and hung out with the librarians. Did you know about the Great Molasses Flood of 1919? Twenty-one people died when a tank exploded in Boston and a twenty-foot wall of molasses streamed through the city streets at better than thirty miles an hour. Can you imagine? I learned about that flood that day from a librarian.
I have enjoyed grand solace in libraries. In Newton, Massachusetts, the old library had frosted glass floors in the top stacks. I spent a lot of time among musty volumes, watching the shadows of other patrons as they walked below me.
In New York City, when they renovated the main branch on Fifth Avenue, the scholarly lions in front were adorned with yellow hard hats. I love that.
As a novelist, I’ve spoken at libraries in Portland, Maine and Bowling Green, Ohio. (Where, by the way, I learned that librarians tell Dewey decimal jokes—isn’t that a hoot?)
A copy of Consigned to Death is in the Linden Hall library in Belfast, one of my favorite places on earth. And this coming December, I’ll be speaking at a branch of the Los Angeles Public Library. The librarian at that location told me that Consigned to Death was one of their most requested volumes. Isn’t that great?
Probably most humbling was the call I got just a week or two ago—the State Library of New Hampshire selected Consigned to Death as its book of the week. Imagine that—Consigned to Death is one of only fifty-two books that the New Hampshire State Library selected for the year. I’m amazed and thrilled all at once.
It’s so very special to me to be honored by people I hold in such high acclaim—librarians.
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| March 10 , 2007 |
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Agatha Award Nomination:
Best First Novel
When the call came telling me that Consigned to Death had been nominated for an Agatha award, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I was just shocked. It had never occurred to me that I would be honored in this way. Now, more than a week later, the shock has worn off—a little. I’m completely thrilled!
The Agathas are fan awards. No committee chooses the nominees—readers are the ones who vote. How great is that? Readers of traditional mysteries have decided that my novel was one of the five best debuts this year. I’m nearly speechless at the tribute. Don’t misunderstand... I have no problem with awards chosen by committee. In fact, I chair such a committee!
I’m the chair of the Wolfe Pack’s literary awards—we’re the folks who give out the Nero Award each year. We have a carefully constructed system to ensure fairness. And certainly, all members on the committee are readers. But the books earning Agathas aren’t selected by a subset of the group as is the book that’s awarded a Nero—the Agatha nominees and winners are selected by the entire group. Wow. I’m awe-struck at the thought that traditional mystery readers could nominate any book they chose—and they chose mine.
The winner will be announced at a Saturday night banquet during the Malice Domestic conference in Washington D.C. the first weekend in May. The entire weekend is going to be fun! There are several special events for nominees. At the Friday evening opening ceremony, I understand that I’ll receive a certificate of nomination. I’ll be on a nominee panel, moderated by the great Margaret Maron. (Margaret wrote a wonderful review of Consigned to Death when it was first published. Part of her comment was featured on the hard back’s cover: “Beautifully crafted. Thoroughly enjoyable,” she wrote. Isn’t that wonderful?) And then there’s the banquet where they announce the winner. I have no expectation of winning—that’s not the point. The point is that I’ve been singled out in this wonderful way.
I’m over-the-moon, and I wanted to share the excitement!
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| February 23, 2007 |
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Intangible Legacies
Last evening, Kathy in Trumbull, CT, hosted a book club discussion of Consigned to Death. The attendees were savvy, insightful, and articulate, and it was a great pleasure to participate. I’d hoped to be there in person, but the icy storm which is raging here in New York City as I write intervened. I couldn’t visit in person, but I was able to visit on the phone. Thank you again for inviting me!
One woman commented on how much she enjoyed Josie’s dad’s sayings. She liked them for them—for their content—but they served another purpose, too. They helped her realize that the way she says things to her daughter matters. She has the opportunity to convey her values, to guide her daughter’s actions—to create a living legacy—one that will endure.
I love that.
Another woman explained that she’s a high school counselor and a student came into her office recently, distraught. He’d broken up with his girlfriend and was so beside himself, he was, for a while, suicidal. He’d relied on his girlfriend for support and direction, and now she was gone and he was alone.
The counselor told him about a book she’d read—Consigned to Death—and how Josie found solace and support in remembering her father’s words, even though he wasn’t physically with her. She suggested that the young man could do the same thing—he could ask himself “What would she say?” and recall the words she used that had helped him in the past, and derive comfort and support from them in the present—and know that they’d be with him forever into the future.
Words—the way we phrase our thoughts—matter more than we might realize. Our words linger on and can provide enduring strength to those we love. Our words become part of our legacy. Just as an antique’s value increases over time, so too does the value of our words increase. And that’s part of the value of the Josie Prescott Antiques Mysteries—as readers, we experience both the tangible and the intangible legacies of Josie’s past, and we benefit from both.
If you participate in a book club, I’d love to join you when you discuss Consigned to Death or Deadly Appraisal, the second Josie Prescott Antiques Mystery, which will be published in April 2007. If your book club limits its reading to paperbacks, I have good news! Consigned to Death will be released as a mass market paperback in April 2007. You’ll find book discussion questions on this website—along with recipes for the martinis Josie enjoys! Please contact me about joining in at your book club discussion group.
And I’d welcome your comments about the tangible and intangible legacies in your life.
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| January 31, 2007 |
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Orientation for a Newly-minted Prez
I expected to enjoy the Mystery Writers of America (MWA) National Board orientation. I love learning, and since I had no previous experience as an officer of a non-profit board, I knew that everything would be new. It was even better than I expected!
First, I learned that our mission demands a strong focus on education—we were formed to educate others about mysteries and ourselves on how to write better ones. Second, our mission also requires us to assist our active members in every way we can. Which explains our tag line: Crime Doesn't Pay – Enough.
The outgoing executive vice president, Reed Farrel Coleman, and the MWA administrative manager, Margery Flax, created an engaging, informative, and quick-paced orientation curriculum. And I got to know my fellow chapter presidents. And I got a very cool T-shirt.
At my chapter, New York, we've always prided ourselves on the quality of our programming. We choose speakers for our monthly dinners that fit into one of three "buckets": technical (i.e., subject matter experts such as police detectives, medical examiners, forensic dentists, arson investigators, et al.); marketing (i.e., how to promote yourself to the media, how to drive traffic to your website, et al.); and writing (i.e., interviews with successful authors, discussions on how to improve the quality of our work, et al.).
Want to attend? You're welcome! We meet on the first Wednesday evening of each month—most months, anyway. (Even if you're not a member, you're welcome to join us at a meeting. In fact, you're welcome to join the MWA as well whether you're a published writer or not!)
Check out our new website: www.mwa-ny.org for a listing of upcoming programs; I'd love to meet you and welcome you to our world.
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| January 14, 2007 |
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Where Ideas Come From
Sometimes I hear or see something, or read something, and it sticks, and then later, when I need something to move the plot along, out it co | |
