Marilyn's Musings

The Zoe Mack Mystery Series by K. Dawn Byrd

2012-01-27T01:03:00.000-08:00

The Secret of the Love Letters

Zoe's cousin Emma thinks she's the recipient of some sick joke when an old boyfriend she thought dead shows up on the internet. Can Zoe solve the mystery that's causing Emma so much pain when her attraction to the town bad boy is so distracting?

When Zoe Mack moves in with her grandparents to start college, she's thrown into more mystery than she bargained for. Her cousin, Emma, is terrorized by a stalker who breaks into her house and leaves a photo-shopped image of Emma hanging from a tree. Nothing is as it seems and Emma soon learns that even the man she thinks she can trust is suspect.

Zoe can't wait to reunite with Nate, the bad boy who doesn't talk about his feelings much, but the passionate kiss he gave her last summer had to have meant something. When she arrives back in town and discovers that he's in trouble with the law, she must take matters into her own hands in order to clear his name. She has her hands full with a needy Emma, a cop who gives her the creeps, and Nate, the guy she desperately wants to call her own. Can Zoe solve the mystery, clear Nate's name, and make him fall in love with her?

How did this story come to you?

Sometimes I get the strangest ideas! I love a good mystery and I love romance, but you don't find the two together very often. Also, there are very few books available with college-age characters. I pitched the idea of combining all of the above to Desert Breeze and the rest is history.

Tell us about the journey to getting this book published.

I had already published several books with Desert Breeze when they opened a young adult line. I'm excited that they liked the idea for this new series.

Tell me three things about yourself that would surprise your readers.

1) I own two hairless Chinese Crested dogs.

2) I love sour things....pickles, lemons, sour candy.

3) I used to ride a Harley, but gave it up in order to have more time to write. (My husband always wanted to stay out way too long and take the scenic route home. He still has his bike, but I don't miss mine at all.)

What are you working on now and what's next for you?

I just finished the edits on my April release, Shattered Identity, which is the sequel to Mistaken Identity. I'm now working on the second book in the Zoe Mack series.

Parting comments?

Thank you for hosting me! For those of you who love Christian fiction, please check my blog for weekly book giveaways. I interview 3-5 authors a week who give away their books. www.kdawnbyrd.blogspot.com

Bio:

K. Dawn Byrd is an author of inspirational romance and romantic suspense with five books published so far. Recently, she tried her hand at young adult fiction and found that she really enjoyed writing it. Three books in the Zoe Mack Mystery Series are scheduled to release January, June, and December 2012. Shattered Identity, the sequel to Mistaken Identity, will release in April.

K. Dawn Byrd is an avid blogger and gives away several books per week on her blog at www.kdawnbyrd.blogspot.com, most of which are signed by the authors. She's also the moderator of the popular facebook Christian Fiction Gathering group at http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=128209963444.

When not reading or writing, K. Dawn Byrd enjoys spending time with her husband of 16 years while walking their dogs beside a gorgeous lake near her home and plotting the next story waiting to be told.

Links:

Website: www.kdawnbyrd.com

Blog: www.kdawnbyrd.blogspot.com and www.zoe-mack.blogspot.com

Twitter: kdawnbyrd

Book trailer on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1aJrlR0fd4&context=C37a6c3aADOEgsToPDskI03937RSubxSN3pzKZqfrl

Frustrating Jobs

2012-01-26T01:19:00.000-08:00

I'm reentering names and addresses into a new mailing program for a newsletter that I send out.

I used the same mailing program for years and something has gone wrong. It won't print out all the names and address--skipping a few here and there.

For several months, I've written in the missing ones and then decided that was a real waste of time.

I found I had a newer version of this program stashed away, so I downloaded on my computer. I have no idea if there's a way to transfer the names from one place to another--so now I'm doing this very boring task of retyping.

I'll break it up by looking at my email and peeking at Facebook, but it's taking up a lot of my time when I'd much rather be planning my next Tempe book.

Oh well, this is important and I'll keep repeating that to myself.

What about you? Have a frustrating job ahead of you?

Marilyn

You've Got a Contract for Your Book, Now What?

2012-01-25T05:26:00.000-08:00

Do you just sit back on your laurels and wait for someone to tell you what to do? Or do nothing?

I just heard about someone who had a book published and did absolutely nothing to promote it. Guess what happened, no books sold.

With all the information out there about promotion, that's hard to believe. But I was just with a group of authors, a few published, some who are writing but haven't gotten there yet, and it was obvious they really didn't know what all was expected of them.

Many publishers today want to know what your marketing plan right along with your query letter.

What does that mean? They want to know if you are going to be able to promote your book. What are you going to do?

What are you willing to do in person? A book tour? Go to book fairs and festivals? Maybe some craft fairs? Have you looked into what bookstores are available to you? How far are you willing to travel? Will you give speeches to writers groups, social and service clubs? How much research have you done to see what you can do in your area?

What about the Internet? Recently I heard that some writers aren't willing to use the Internet. Really? How foolish.

People can't buy your book if they don't know about it and the best way for them to find out is if you are spreading the word as many ways as you can.

At the very least you need a website and/or blog with information about you and your book. You should be on Facebook and other social sites. If you start before your book is out you can let people know things about you and they can get to know you. Then when your book is out you can let them know about it and they'll be interested in seeing what you've written.

I could go on, but I've written about promotion before, you can scroll back through my posts.

I know you'd like to spend your time writing, but the reality is, that a certain percentage of your time must be devoted to promotion. If your book doesn't sell, the publisher isn't going to be interested in the next one.

My point is you should be planning about promotion before you even get that contract. Pay attention to what other authors are doing and do what most appeals to you. Make a promotion plan.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

The Pot Thief Who Studied Escoffier, Review

2012-01-24T01:40:00.000-08:00

An advanced copy of the Pot Thief Who Studied Escoffier by Michael Orenduff was sent to me by the publisher at my request. Mike and I share the same publisher and we've met at several conferences, including the Public Safety Writers Association's Conference, and Epicon. I love this series, Mike is a terrific writer and I'd read anything he wrote. Here's what I thought about his latest.

The Pot Thief Who Studied Escoffier

J. Michael Orenduff

The Pot Thief books are known for making the reader hungry and this one is no exception. Herbert Schuze, better known as Hubie, is hired to design and make the prototype for chargers (better known as plates) for a brand new restaurant soon to open in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The hitch is the Schnitzel restaurant is going to focus on Austrian cuisine.

From the beginning nothing seems quite right, from the owner to all the quirky people hired to cook and serve. Hubie gets to know these people better than he’d like because he must do his pottery work in the restaurant while preparation for the grand opening are underway. The cooks are trying out all the new recipes and everyone must try them out. None sound appetizing, and most of the time Hubie sneaks away to find more appealing meals elsewhere.

For followers of the Pot Thief books, Hubie makes plenty of trips back home and to Dos Hermanos Tortilleria in Albuquerque to discuss the happenings and the employees of Schnitzel with his friend, Susannah, over margaritas and chips. In between, he reads about the life and times of Escoffier.

The opening of the Schnitzel is disastrous. Austrian food is not a hit with the epicureans of Santa Fe. The descriptions of the menu items were explicit enough for me to know I would never try them. Never fear though, Hubie does plenty of cooking and eating of much more tantalizing dishes.

Though I haven’t mentioned it yet, there is a murder and of course Hubie is the prime suspect. Along with the quest to find out the true murderer, Hubie is romanced, threatened, creates new dishes, bar tends, attempts a bit of burglary and safecracking, and is nearly murdered. As with all the Pot Thief books, plenty of subtle humor abounds, and Hubie enjoys his Gruet Blanc de Noir.

There’s much to love in The Pot Thief Who Studied Escoffier. It has all the elements that endeared readers to Hubie and this series, good food and drink, unusual characters, great settings, a puzzling mystery and plenty more. Though I recommend that all the books be read, each can be read as a stand-alone.

Instead of awarding stars, I award this one 5 chilies.

Marilyn Meredith

My Thoughts on the Golden Globes

2012-01-23T01:34:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid I was totally enamored with movie stars. I read all the movie magazines--nothing like the stuff that's put out today--and learned everything I could about the stars. Of course now I know that during that time period we were fed only the positive stuff and much of that wasn't true. The gossip came from people like Hedda Hopper in the newspapers, or one particular paper that feasted on the bad things the stars were caught doing. But to my young mind, they were a magical bunch.

My father worked for Paramount Studios and worked around the stars and had a totally different opinion. According to him--and he told me this a lot--the majority of the actors and actress had no morals and weren't nice people. There were a few exceptions, but mostly he told us about the horrible antics of the stars he saw on a daily basis.

Watching the Golden Globes made me think of my dad's judgment of the stars--and what he said applies to today. You could see the celebreties getting drunker and drunker, watching their faces as they turned to comment about an award or a person giving it gave away a lot. The smart ones covered their mouths when they spoke to a neighbor which hid the snarkier of expressions.

I had some snarky thoughts of my own especially when it came to some of the facelifts of the older stars. Why can't women have wrinkles? We certainly earned them. And in some cases the facelifts are downright scary.
And the dresses--some are gorgeous, but others are odd and not the least bit flattering. Why would someone want to expose her boney back? When did women having big biceps become appealing? Bright red lipstick is not flattering to many women.

Enough of the snarky. I love movies. It probably takes a certain kind of person to be a good actor and put up with all the interviews and lack of privacy that goes along with it. I'm not sure that really excuses the bad behavior, but probably accounts for a lot of it.

What did I think of the awards themselves? I hadn't seen a lot of the movies so I can't really say, but anything to do with Hugo deserved the awards it received.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Classic Christianity,

2012-01-20T01:59:00.000-08:00

I’d like you to meet my good friend, Patti Ediger who, with her sister embarked on an amazing adventure:

Hi everyone! I'm Patti, the very slightly older sister (only 17 years). I'm a little nervous since this is my first blog encounter. My little sis, Cara, is the techie and lives in the world of cyberspace so she will feel very comfortable in this wonderful invisible universe, while I, on the other hand, would love to meet you face to face, give you a big hug, and chatter the day away about books.( Sorry, all you technophiles.)

I started my love affair with writing in second grade with an assignment to write a story. It was typed by the teacher and placed into a red construction-paper cover along with all my other classmates' stories. Seeing my imaginings printed on paper for others to share opened doors in my mind and heart that were never again to close. Since then I've worked as an R.N., gone on more than twenty medical missions, married, raised a son and daughter, gained three grand-daughters, and worked continually in my church. But writing has always had a favorite place in my life.

For the last ten years or so I've written three articles a month for the Global Prayer Digest which is translated into 29 languages. I attended Marilyn's writing class for many years where she taught me about writing and I completed a medical mystery Marilyn is still trying to goad me into publishing. (I tried, the publishers said it was "too exciting.")

Now that I've retired it's such a tremendous treat to have the time to lavish hours and days on some favorite things including hosting a weekly Bible study, organizing and planning anything and everything, (don't you just love to make lists?) and writing the first of what we hope will be an unending series of inspirational books to the glory of God.

Cara is an absolute hurricane of productive activity. The girl never stops! - She works three jobs: Creative writing teacher, tutor, and Facilities Director for her church. She has homeschooled two children who have gone on to university with an outstanding education and is in the process of homeschooling her third. She keeps her very busy husband organized and gives her time and love generously to family, friends, and

any total stranger who stumbles across her path. But most of all, she is a fantastic sister. I laugh with her more than anyone I know, and here's an amazing thing: I can dream up an idea and by the time I finish telling her it has run out of her fingers and into the computer and can be seen in a visible, tangible, and beautiful way.

What gave us the idea for a book of devotions?

We were helping our elderly Mom move and ran across a big box of our grandfather's writings in the rafters of her garage. They were bundled so tightly together in packets and tied with string that it preserved them perfectly for about 50 years. He had written down his sermons from 1915 to about 1960, and had kept this selection of hundreds of his favorite messages.

When we sat down to read them we were pretty shocked. They were not only eloquently written, but spiritually deep. They were much too precious to be discarded. I remembered our Dad saying "someone should do something with Pop's old sermons." But when we actually read them we saw why Dad thought so. We decided to trim the twenty-some page sermons into two-page devotionals. We called it "picking pearls."

When did you start working on them?

We actually started about 10 years ago. We had some intermissions while we figured out our next steps. This was new territory for us. The editing, revising, and writing was an enormous task, but the "besides that" things were the most difficult because we had to learn things like forms, fonts, cover letters, queries, and put everything Marilyn taught us in to actual action.

How hard was it to work together? How did you do it?

I hope my sister isn't rolling her eyes, but I found it so easy to work with Cara. For one thing the vision for the work was the same. We both had a clear view of what it should be like when it was finished. Also, and actually this was primary, we're both felt that the project was the Lord's and we were simply privileged to be a part of it. We prayed, He directed, we followed.

There was also a lot of mutual submission. We checked each other's portion of the writing and if we felt strongly about something we'd say it and each talk about it until we came to an agreement. I felt that we were both happy and excited about the progress we were making at every turn.

What was your journey to find a publisher?

Well, that was an experience all right. We were told explicitly to only send out proposals to one publisher at a time. If we had done that it would have taken100 years instead of 10. We ended up making a list of about 100 prospects. Needless to say, the postage would have killed us off if we had tried to mail our beautiful presentation packet to all of them. After much thought, we ended up making CD's of our proposal and book (not right for everyone, we just did a poor-man's copyright first,) then we designed CD labels with the editor's name on it, beautiful case covers and sent them out in batches.

We received 100 of the most beautiful, enthusiastic, encouraging rejection letters you've ever seen. They told us they loved the work but unless we were already published, famous, or had a speaking ministry they couldn't take the risk of trying to publish us. During this time we also sent out letters to everyone we could think of

who was published, famous or had a well-known ministry. We included a CD of the work, and asked for recommendations for the book.

We hit the jackpot with that one as we obtained terrific recommendations which we eventually placed on the book cover for all to see. We finally accepted that if these wonderful words of our grandfather were ever to see the inside of a printing press we would have to publish it ourselves. After a lot of searching we discovered Crossbooks,

a division of Lifeway. We liked them because they worked in partnership with us. We paid a nominal fee, but that allowed us to retain the copyright. They did a great job of working with us on the production of the books. We ended up with the book in two volumes instead of four seasonal books, but their experience helped us out a great deal. We also liked the idea that they require a theological review before the work is accepted to maintain their high standards.

What are your hopes for these devotionals?

Our grandfather's life's mission was to see souls saved, lives mended, and Christians find their purpose in God. That is the purpose for these books. We've already heard wonderful stories of how these writings have blessed the readers. That's what makes everything so worthwhile. My dream is for these volumes to be timeless companions to the Bible alongside My Utmost For His Highest, and Streams in the Desert, cherished for generations.

What are your plans for promotion?

We would love to give presentations in churches about our grandfather's life, ministry and writings. We plan to do as many book signings as we can line up and have

newspaper articles, radio interviews, posters, church bulletin inserts, in the area of the signings. We've already done this with good success in church, bookstore, and boutique settings. Cara's made a book trailer and is building our website which when it is completed will be Classicchristianity.net (Jesus hung around with fishermen, thus "net") She will be doing a blog there too!

What are some memories of your grandfather?

I remember sitting in his office watching him write his sermons with a fountain pen in his three-ringed black notebook with his bible at his side, probably some of the

same sermons we wrote about in the book. I remember him preaching with authority, and singing in a booming voice. I lived in the parsonage so I saw him pray with my grandmother over people's illnesses and problems. I saw him minister to men riding the trains looking for work in the depression, giving spiritual help and lots of good food.

He didn't care much for financial things. When a realtor came to the door asking if he wanted to buy his last two lots in Las Posas Estates for $200 he replied "what do I

want a lot on that old windy hill for?" The lots are now some of the most expensive property in Southern California.

But, most of all, when I think of Papa, I remember the day he called me in from playing outside when I was eight years old. He had me sit on his knee and he asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. I said that I did and he helped me pray and ask Jesus to be the Lord of my life. It was the start of the greatest imaginable adventure of joy, fulfillment, testing, and victory. I still have the office chair he sat in that day. It's a wonderful reminder of all he meant to my life.

Patti and her husband, Eldon

And now, Cara Shelton:

When I was a little girl, I shocked my mother by telling her I wanted to be a Baptist nun. That probably confused her, but to me it meant that I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to serving God, but thought I would prefer to remain protestant! That is still the goal- serving God. My name is Cara. My husband, Steve, and I have been married 32 years and are the parents of three. My family is my joy, and they are my best friends. In college, I changed my major annually because I just loved to study everything, and so now I teach classes for homeschooled students in Composition, Journalism, Literature, and anything else I find intriguing at the moment, and work as the facilities director at my local church, Camarillo Evangelical Free, to keep my hands busy!

What gave you the idea for these books of devotions?

I honestly think it took two years from the moment we found the original manuscripts to the time we knew what we were going to do with them! As we read through the study notes, the sermons, the outlines, that Papa had written, we knew they were blessed. We knew the Holy Spirit was speaking to us through the Scripture expounded on their pages, so how could we let that go to waste, how could we just lose that for time and eternity? We honestly prayed about how these writings could be used by God to further His kingdom. Two years down the road, we knew we had to write these books!

When did your first start working on them?

It was the winter of 2002-3, and we nearly froze in that old aluminum patio room I had on the back of the house! In the first years, Patti traveled down to me much more than I visited her, because our mom was living with me, and she loved to read over what we were doing as we wrote. Our mom was our biggest cheerleader! Every time we would get together to work on the devotions, mom would say, “Oh! I am just so glad you girls are doing this! Finally!”

How hard was it to work together? How did you do it?

Oh, it was easy to work together. It was hard to get together to work, however! Both of us have always been busy in our churches and families, and Cara has two part time jobs – so just the time element was a struggle. We are so different in some ways, I suppose it might have been easy to see that as a negative, but truly it was God providing a great team. Patti loves beauty and grace in the words and a simple elegance of presentation. Everything beautiful about the books is her doing! I am very practical, and I love the great ideas of theology, the history and wisdom from those who have gone before and see the truth in such a different way than we do today. The depth of concepts and ideas, and the literary impact of words – that’s what I love.

We just split up the days and the notes, and each basically edited 10-15 days down into devotions, and then we would get together, exchange work, and critique each other’s presentations. I took out extra-flowery passages in her work, she sanded off the rough edges in mine!

What was your journey to find a publisher?

Oh, the journey to our publisher felt like an infinite stretch of lonely desert highway! We got dozens of the most sensitive, beautiful, appreciative rejection letters than you can imagine! Publishers from all across the country praised the content and presentation of this book, but they were united in refusing to publish a devotional unless the author had an active speaking ministry. Publishers insisted that the Christian public only wants to read the writings of active preachers or speakers. There were long periods of inactivity, but we always came back to the fact that God had laid it on our hearts to see this published for the furtherance of His kingdom. We just could not stop, could not give up, until it was accomplished! To tell you the truth, it had taken so long, and we had so many false starts, that I didn’t really believe it until I saw it “live” on amazon.com!

What are you hopes for these books of devotionals?

Our prayer has always been that of giving over – we totally dedicate these books to God’s use. I guess my dearest hope is that they will be a vessel through which God speaks to many, to challenge, bless, teach, and deliver them. I am so humbled to be a part of this, thrilled to hear those who have already told us how God is using the devotions in their lives to draw them nearer to Jesus – that is really what it has always been about!

What are your plans for promotion?

We are just beginning to speak at churches as we are asked – you know this is really a story of God’s leading in our lives, and His preparation before us. We love to tell folks how it came about, and what we hope to see as a result – souls saved, lives mended, and people finding their place in God’s plan! We plan to continue to follow God’s leading in getting this book into the hands of people all over the world, whatever that means and wherever it takes us.

And tell me, what are some of your memories of your grandfather?

Oh – Papa! How can I explain who he was in a few memories? He was not a tall man, only about 5’8”, but somehow he filled up a room with his booming baritone voice and his big personality. He was so honestly sold out for the Lord, so truly His man through and through – friendly and winsome for the gospel. There was a sense of urgency about him, urgency to help people in the name of Jesus. I have never known anyone so able to make friends with everyone, to live his walk boldly yet humbly. I remember sitting on the organ bench next to Nana on Sunday afternoons with Papa behind me, all of us singing through the hymnal. I remember how he loved to go shopping with Nana. She went in to the stores, he went to talk with people, listen to them, and be with the crowd, – and he loved the crowds! He could talk with anyone, and in just the space of a few minutes he won their confidence. As I very little girl, I remember hearing people tell him their worries, their problems…while sitting on the edge of a fountain, or on a bench outside the store. The contrast of him in his customary three-piece suit with his arm around the husband of a young hippie couple, barefoot and desperate, is forever etched in my mind.

Cara Shelton and family

About Classic Christianity:

With gentle humor, the Reverend Meade broaches topics throughout Scripture with an evangelist's heart, a scholar's insight,

and a grandfather's tender touch. His heart ached to see souls saved and lives mended. But, even further, his passion was to

see Christians fulfilling their place in God's plan.

Lawrence A. Meade was our "Papa." His life spanned the changes of both world wars and Vietnam, yet he shook the hands of

Civil War veterans. In the days when the Rev. Meade preached, people were worried about impending war, financial problems,

cultural changes, and the uncertain future. The same things concern people today. Yet because he stood fast on the timeless

truths of Scripture, his words are as much for today as they were for yesterday, and they will be as much for tomorrow as they

are for today.

Gleaned from a lifetime of Christian service, these daily devotions will challenge and encourage, uplift and promote real spiritual

growth. Each day's devotion is conveniently laid out in a two page format with a key verse, an expanded suggested reading, a meditation,

and a prayer. The meditations provide profound insight deep enough for long-time Christians, plain enough for new believers and

challenging for everyone.

Classic Christianity is suitable not only for personal or family devotions, but also for teachers, bible study leaders, and pastors.

An exceptional resource, Classic Christianity, A Year of Timeless Devotions Vol. I and II provides a foundation for spiritual growth

for all who are searching to walk closely with the Lord.

Links to the book:

http://www.Classicchristianity.net/

Amazon.com

Volume I

http://www.amazon.com/Classic-Christianity-Timeless-Devotions-Winter/dp/1462706452/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326254861&sr=1-1

Volume II

http://www.amazon.com/Classic-Christianity-Timeless-Devotions-ebook/dp/B0065DWRIO/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326254670&sr=1-2-fkmr0/

To contact for interviews, speaking engagements or book signings:

Classicchristianity@gmail.com

559 359-0221

What Inspired Ultimate Justice, A Trey Fontaine Mystery

2012-01-19T01:43:00.000-08:00

Author, Ryder Islington

I was fortunate enough to be a part of a wonderful critique group full of published authors, teachers, and women with vivid imaginations and vast experiences. I miss them terribly.

I had written three women’s fiction novels, three romances, and one western, and none were worth sending out. They had mostly viable plots and characterization and I was developing the skill of description and the senses, but none of them were really good. The first three didn’t have satisfying ending. The next two were very blah. The sixth one had a strong plot, but I just couldn’t make it interesting. The western ended up being more funny than adventurous. All seven of these books were historicals.

I’d finished the western and was due at the critique group but had nothing to share. So I sat in front of a blank screen and started with the what ifs. Being a big fan of mysteries and thrillers, I thought maybe I’d try something new. My what ifs landed on these questions: What if the bad guy was unique? Maybe very young? What if the good guys were very flawed? I had a couple of other what ifs that worked out, but they would give the mystery away, so I’ll keep them to myself.

With these few questions in my head, I whipped out two pages, not even taking time to spell check or revise, and headed off to critique group. When it was my turn, I read the two pages aloud while the other members read their copies. I was stunned when I heard them say, “Why have you been wasting your time trying to write romance? This is what you’re supposed to write.”

And then there was the time I had an encounter with a serial killer. No kidding! At a time in my life when I refused to watch the news or read the paper because the world was so horrible. Had I paid attention, I would have known that there was a man who was drove a little white pick-up along Interstate between the town I worked in and the town I lived in. He would ram a car from behind, then stop to exchange insurance information. Always late at night, or early in the morning. Always cars with a woman alone. Six women were raped and killed, and a seventh raped and left for dead. She gave a lot of details to the police.

I would have been number eight. But when he hit me, a voice said, “Don’t stop!” and I didn’t. I hit the gas, and didn’t follow his lead when he passed me and pulled over several times. Several law enforcement agencies later, I needed a drink. Let me tell you, I learned to pay attention to the news.

Those first two pages became the opening of chapter two. I went through thirty-five revisions before I had a product worth publication. I learned as much in the editing process with the publishing company, as I learned writing the first million words in my writing career. I call this success.

I wrote the kind of book I would read. I’ve only had one reader with a critical remark and that remark was about the vividness of a disgusting scene. And it’s published. I’m pleased to be working on book two with the same main character, and the ‘what ifs’ are piling up in anticipation of a possible series. Stay tuned for Ultimate Game, A Trey Fontaine Mystery.

Ultimate Justice, A Trey Fontaine Mystery is receiving rave reviews from readers. http://www.ll-publications.com/ultimatejustice.html

The small town of Raven Bayou, Louisiana explodes as old money meets racial tension, and tortured children turn the table on abusive men. FBI Special Agent Trey Fontaine returns home to find the town turned upside down with mutilated bodies. Working with local homicide detectives, Trey is determined to get to the truth. A believer in empirical evidence, Trey ignores his instincts until he stares into the face of the impossible, and has to choose between what he wants to believe and the ugly truth.

A graduate of the University of California and former officer for a large sheriff’s department, RYDER ISLINGTON is now retired and doing what she loves: reading, writing, and gardening. She lives in Louisiana with her family, including a very large English Chocolate Lab, a very small Chinese pug, and a houseful of demanding cats. She can be contacted at RyderIslington@yahoo.com or visit her blog at http://ryderislington.wordpress.com

Blog Tour Schedule can be found here: http://www.ll-publications.com/

or http:/ryderislington.wordpress.com/

Crazy Dreams and Cruise Ships

2012-01-18T01:56:00.000-08:00

I've had wild and crazy dreams as long as I can remember. Some I can figure out what trigger them. If I'm going to be doing something that I'm worried about, I'll dream about the event and something will go wrong. People don't show up who are supposed to, I didn't bring the material I needed, and so on.

Last night I dreamed I was on a cruise ship. Not too hard to guess where that one came from--all the news about the cruise ship that ran into a rock and went over on it's side. Horrible. I can't imagine what those people went through. Recently, my husband and I were on a cruise and our cabin was one without a window/porthole. I figured when I was in my room I'd be sleeping not gazing out at the sea. The dining room had windows where you could see out, and there were many places you could sit inside and watch the ocean. And of course there were spots on deck where you could stand by the railing.

We were on the same cruise ship that caught on fire the year before. We'd been scheduled to go on that ship the week after its big problem but it couldn't be repaired in time, so our cruise was rescheduled. Yes, I did think about the problem they'd had while we were on the cruse. Fortunately, all went smoothly and we had a wonderful time.

Back to my dream. My sister and my mom and I were taking a cruise. (My mom has been gone for several years, but when she was in her 80s, my sis and mom and I flew to Hawaii for a vacation together. And more recently, my sister and her entire family plus mom and me went on a five day cruise. I mention this because I think dreams drag up old memories.) In my dream room, when we went to our rooms they were so tiny I couldn't believe it. Some cabins are tiny, but I've never seen any as tiny as this. Two bunks and a single with room to walk between them and NO BATHROOM. You had to go down the hallway to a community bathroom.

I guess I should confess, many of my dreams have something to do with bathrooms and when I wake up, I know why.

That was my latest crazy dream about a cruise ship.

What kind of dreams do you usually have?

Marilyn

So Busy I forgot My Own Blog

2012-01-17T01:09:00.000-08:00

I've been so busy writing blog posts for my own blog tour for No Bells, I forgot all about my own blog.

Trying to write something new for this blog is challenging, but not nearly as challenging as trying to come up with something different for each of nearly 30 posts that will also at least tickle someone's curiosity to read No Bells.

Every authors writes their book with the expectation that someone is going to read it--and hopefully like it, and then tell someone about it. That's how books become popular.

Hopefully, after reading all the wonderful, imaginative posts I've written for my tour, people will rush to online bookstores and buy the book either in paper or as an e-book. Wishful thinking, but when I write any book, I'm not doing it for myself--I'm writing for a reader to enjoy.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

My Sunday School Class

2012-01-16T09:25:00.000-08:00

Besides writing, one of the other things I do is teach Sunday School. Yesterday I had three girls, some days I only have boys.

As you can tell, there is a variety of ages, but it doesn't seem to matter.

I've been teach Sunday School for years. I keep telling the church council they need to get someone younger than me. I like doing it, telling the stories from the Bible, talking about what they mean today with the kids, letting them come up with some great answers, praying with them about their concerns, and the reward at the end is playing hangman using words and phrases from the lesson.

Yesterday's lesson was from the Old Testament, the story of Barak and Deborah. Not one of those kids knew anyone else named Barak--until I gave them some hints.

It'a great story for girls. Deborah was a judge and God told her to tell Barak to take his Army to fight with the oppressing Army--of course it was much bigger and had iron chariots. Barak was afraid and would only go if she went too. Of course she led the way because if God told her to do it, then he would be right there with her. And of course Barak's Army not only conquered the enemy, but they fled at the sight of Deborah and Barak's Army.

I told the girls probably God sent an Army of angels along too.

Anyway, that's what we talked about yesterday in our Sunday School class.

Marilyn

The Book of Lost Fragrances, Review

2012-01-15T01:53:00.000-08:00

M.J. Rose has written a most elegant book that the publisher classified as a suspense novel is so much more than that.

It is a spellbinding book that touches on so many themes: reincarnation, Ancient Egypt and Cleopatra, Greece, Paris, the catacombs, China, triads, Tibets, monks, romance, intrigue, adventure, and of course, perfume. The plot weaves in and out of all of this and more.

It is a tale of intrigue and the most marvelous description of scents and their importance to our memories.

The plot is far too multi-layered to even begin to explain, it's enough for me to say that once you've read one or two pages you'll be hooked and have to keep on to the end. Needless to say, I enjoyed The Book of Lost Fragrances.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

Marilyn

What to do at Writers Conferences and Mystery Conventions

2012-01-14T01:37:00.000-08:00

I've written about this topic before, but it won't hurt to repeat my advice since it's a new year and conferences and conventions are popping up all over the calendar.

If you're attending a writing conference, pick the topics that are most vital to you and your writing career. Take notes, collect cards, and pick up all the free material. And probably, most important, smile a lot and talk to everyone. You might end up with a critique partner--and a new friend.

For either con, wear comfortable shoes because you never know how far you have to walk. And, because meeting rooms always seem to be cold, be sure and take along a sweater or shawl. (It wouldn't hurt to have a few snacks to nibble on--hotel meals can be expensive.)

If you're a writer and going to a mystery con, there'll be many big-name authors around. Again, pick the panels and presentations that most interest you. If you have a book and are on a panel, you'll be expected to sit in the book room to autograph any books of yours someone might buy. Don't be depressed if you're next to someone famous with a long line and no one or only one or two people come to you. It happens to all of us.

Visit with everyone. It's wonderful if you can make friends with readers as well as authors. After all, readers buy books. Of course authors do too, but you might get a new fan or your books if you are genuinely friendly. Don't just hang out with people you know. Invite someone to join you at a table for a meal if they come in alone.

And again, take notes. Believe me, you won't remember what you wanted to, there's just so much going on it can be mind boggling.

Cons and conferences are expensive. Get the most out of them that you can.

And here's my favorite. The Public Safety Writers Association conference in Las Vegas. http://www.policewriter.com/

Check out the new logo, isn't that great?

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Whittling My Way Down Through My List

2012-01-13T01:42:00.000-08:00

Slowly but surely I'm getting through my list. Yesterday, my priority was working on the program design and I almost got it done. Should be able to finish today.

I fixed the chapter my critique group heard on Wednesday. Took awhile because we had 7 people to make suggestions and corrections. Amazingly, each one came up with things the others didn't. I also did a word search on "Really" which seems to be a big favorite of mine. I eliminated all but two.

Another phrase that popped up many times (in the first chapter, mind you) was "a lot" so I got rid of those too in the whole manuscript. Oh, how great it is to be able to do a word search.

While I was doing all that, I washed three loads of clothes, dried them, and put them all back where they belonged.

I also tended to some emails that had to be taken care of.

I made a delicious batch of spaghetti and after we ate and I cleaned up, I crashed on the couch to watch several episodes of the Good Wife. Found out that the writers there have a darling too--"I did." The heroine says it often--and tonight I heard her husband say it too.

And that was my very busy day.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

I've Got Entirely Too Much on My Plate

2012-01-12T01:20:00.000-08:00

From last Thursday through Tuesday I was off at a meeting and also got in some visiting with two of my daughters. Of course while I was gone, a pile of work came in on my email.

Two big project requests arrived that take a lot of concentration and a lot of my time--but they also pay well. (Need some income to pay for my trips here and there.)

Also, a good friend did a read through on one of my manuscripts and she sent it back to me as an attachment, I filed it somewhere where I thought it would be easy to find--ha, I can't locate it anywhere. I asked if she still had a copy, I'm sure she thinks I've become addled in my old age, and maybe I have.

The Board of Equalization sent me my tax form--I don't really know how to do them, but I file one every year and hope for the best. It's due right away. (Haven't tackled it yet.)

I have all sorts of blog posts I need to write for my upcoming blog tour for No Bells, but just haven't found the time to do most of them.

I've written a list of what has to be done right now and managed to cross off a few things, but when I cross off one thing two more pop up.

Oh, and did I mention, I've got four books that I need to read and review?

I probably ought to stay home tonight, but I'm going to visit my critique group. I missed last week, and I really feel the need to be around my friends.

Enough lamenting, time to feed my husband.

Marilyn

Lethal Lineage by Charlotte Hinger

2012-01-11T02:36:00.000-08:00

Another review by Carl Brookins:

LETHAL Lineage

By Charlotte Hinger

ISBN:978-1-59058-837-6

2011 Release from

Poisoned Pen Press

This is an amazing novel. Almost from the first line, one is interested, entertained, and enthralled. Lottie Albright is a first-class protagonist, a bright, wealthy, well-educated woman with a healthy measure of community sense and human empathy. The fact that she’s now living on the isolated windy plains of northwestern Kansas, second wife of a widowed farmer, only enhances her claim on the reader’s attention.

The author writes with such clarity, precision and verve, one is swept into the lives of these people with intimacy, with love, and with a clear eye on the realities of life in this place in the Twenty-first Century. As isolated as they are, and feel themselves to be, the citizens of four sparsely-populated counties will be touched in tender and horrific ways by larger events happening continents away beginning with a confirmation in a new Episcopal congregation meeting in a new church.

The novel’s sojourn into the world of historical research, especially Albright’s struggle to deal with the surprises of family history projects is a fascinating and relevant subplot. The characters are all well-laid on and consistent in their roles. All in all an outstanding effort.

-- 
carl brookins
www.carlbrookins.com
agora2.blogspot.com
Reunion, Devils Island, Red Sky, The Case of the Great Train Robbery 
The Case of The Missing Case

How I Manage My Time

2012-01-09T01:49:00.000-08:00

What I don't do:

Stay up late and stay in bed late.

Sit around in my p.j.'s all day.

Watch TV in the day time with one exception.

Visit on the telephone.

Have people over for coffee--or go to others homes for coffee, except on rare occassions.

Work on the weekends.

Do my own housework, except for my bedroom and bath.

Belong to any social clubs.

Do craft projects, paint, knit, or sew. I realized that if I wanted to be a writer, I ought to concentrate on writing.

(Sounds boring, but it works for me)

What I do:

I read at spare moments and in bed. I also check my email in bed.

What I do:

I do watch DVD movies in the early evening because my brains turns to mush after putting in a certain number of hours writing and/or editing.

I go to bed early.

I get up between 4:30 a.m. and 5 and shower and dress--then I'm ready for whatever might happen during the day. (This is an old habit from when we owned and lived in a residential care home and we got surprise visits from licensing and the placement agency at any time.)

I start my day with whatever Bible study I happen to be doing, or just reading a chapter in the Bible.

I make a list of what I hope to accomplish.

I check my email and take care of it and do a quick peek at Facebook and tell the world what my plan for the day is. Fix my Chai latte to drink while I'm working. When I get hungry I fix my breakfast. One in awhile hubby fixes a big breakfast for both of us. Sometime I glance through the paper while I'm eating, other times I'll read a book.

I write, either before breakfast or after starting wherever I left off the night before. (A trick I learned long ago was to quit in the middle of a scene then it's easy to begin again the next day.) Fortunately, I can be interrupted and go right back to whatever I was doing. (That's from raising five kids and always having a houseful of my own and everyone else's.)

When I've written as much as I feel like for the day--or that time period--I'll move onto other things that need to be done, like writing blog posts, book reviews, some editing, whatever happens to be on my list.

I eat lunch and take care of other little jobs--or maybe big ones, depending upon what has popped up.

My daytime TV watching exception is General Hospital, sometimes I sleep through it, sometimes I fold clothes, in any case, it's a nice break.

Then I'll finish up whatever and move onto cooking dinner. Cooking is something I enjoy most of the time.

And that more or less brings me full circle.

When I was younger I had my finger in more pies than I do now. The hours and the days seem to have gotten shorter and I can't accomplish as much as I used to.

Sometimes during the week, hubby and I will take time off and go out to lunch and to see a movie.

We also go to writers and mystery cons together. He doesn't write, but he enjoys the traveling and meeting new people.

I do belong to writing related organizations like Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Public Safety Writers Association.

Sometimes during the week, hubby and I will take time off and go out to lunch and to see a movie.

We also go to writers and mystery cons together. He doesn't write, but he enjoys the traveling and meeting new people.

This is what works for me.

Marilyn

Books by Marilyn/

Assignment: Nepal by J. Squires, Review by Carl Brookins

2012-01-08T01:15:00.000-08:00

Assignment:Nepal

By J.S. Squires

ASIN: B005VFMK6Q

2011 E-book release from

Echelon Press

Readers of this review should be aware that this press has published some of my crime fiction and I am acquainted with the publisher, though not with the two authors writing under a single pseudonym.

The protagonist is named Irene Adler. Not the woman who beat Sherlock Holmes at his own game, her modern namesake, a Doctor of Philosophy in Anthropology at Boston University. Adler has a demi-cynical outlook on life and it turns out she supplements her income by playing poker; specifically Texas Holdem in the gambling parlors around the New England area. Irene Adler is a bright, smart, single woman, an endearing protagonist.

Her former adviser, a fellow faculty member, prevails on Ms. Adler to travel to Nepal to inquire into the life and times of a former fellow undergraduate student of Irene’s, a Margot Smith, who’s in Nepal doing research on one of that country’s goddesses, one Chwwaassa Dyo. The problem is that there appears to something awry with Margot and her physician husband and Adler is supposed to sort things out. What needs sorting turns out to be only part of the story. Irene agrees to go half-way around the world to see a woman she barely knows. From this most unlikely beginning, the plot drives poor Adler into one complexity after another.

Her assignment clearly has unstated dimensions about which neither we readers nor Irene Adler herself are clear. Now, Nepal is an exotic nation from which assaults on Mount Everest are mounted and the ubiquitous Sherpa play an important part, as do digital cameras, former Cold War adversaries, political unrest in the country, and a whole series of meddlesome individuals who seem to still show up on the fringes of the former English Empire.

The novel winds its way through a variety of conflicts among wanderers, a boorish American tourist couple, and murder and bomb blasts. At times the narrative suffers from a pedestrian pace and some lapses of editing discipline over the point of view. Still, the story is interesting, Irene is definitely a character to build a series around, the exotic setting in and around Katmandu is, well, exotic, and a satisfactory conclusion is fashioned. I think four stars is too strong a rating, but the novel is more enjoyable than three stars would indicate. Sample the story and make your own judgment.

--
Carl Brookins www.carlbrookins.com http://agora2.blogspot.com, Case of the Great Train Robbery, Reunion, Red Sky

Gremlins that Get into Manuscripts

2012-01-07T01:19:00.000-08:00

Recently, I received the draft copy of the galley for my next Rocky Bluff P.D. crime novel, No Bells, from my publisher.

While I was going over it sentence by sentence, I was horrified to find so many errors. Not typos, but out and out errors. Now this manuscript had been read by my critique group, chapter by chapter. I'd gone over each chapter, made all the necessary corrections and additions.

When I was done, I ran a Word spell and grammar check and made all those corrections.

Then I printed out the whole thing again and went over it before I sent it off to the publisher.

Now, I've got it back and spent a whole day going over it carefully. The spelling was fine, but my goodness, the other kinds of errors. It made me wonder if I'd sent out a prior version of the manuscript instead of the one I'd corrected.

Or, as the title of the blog suggests, there are gremlins hiding out there in cyberspace just waiting to jump into a manuscript as it's traveling to its destination. Yep, I bet that's exactly what happened. What do you think?

In any case, it's gone off again. When the galley proof comes back, I hope the gremlins aren't around to do their dirty work.

Marilyn aka F. M. Meredith

Review of the Cold Room by Robert Knightly

2012-01-06T01:45:00.000-08:00

The Cold Room by Robert Knightly as reviewed by Marilyn Meredith

This is the second book of Bob Knightly’s I’ve read, the first being Bodies in Winter. What I liked best about both books is they are more authentic as a police procedural than many I’ve read. NYPD detective Harry Corbin is a different kind of cop. He’s not a super hero nor is he loved by all of his fellow cops. In Bodies in Winter, Corbin exposes a twisted web of corruption among the police ranks and superiors which didn’t endear him to anyone.

When The Cold Room opens, Corbin is still being shunned by his co-workers and bosses. Even though he’s a detective, he hasn’t been allowed to work on any homicide cases for a year. When he stumbles upon a dumped and mutilated female murder victim, he immediately decides to find out who she was and work on solving the case.

Following Corbin as he tries to learn the victim’s identity with scant help from his superiors is like going on a ride-along. The big difference is as a reader, we’re allowed into Corbin’s mind not only as he pieces together the puzzle to find out who the murdered girl is, but who killed her.

Along the way, the reader is introduced to a neighborhood priest and a nun, both who play important parts in the investigation though not always in a cooperative manner. The interaction between Corbin and Father Stan is intriguing, both trying to outfox the other. Following Corbin through rich neighborhoods and poor, sitting with him during stake-outs, learning about the exploitation of female illegal immigrants, a horrendously screwed-up family, and how he pieces together what happened to the murder victim and who did it, has the stamp of true police work.

Following clues from one place to another, intensified action, a touch of romance, and a surprising ending, make The Cold Room a most satisfying read. Highly recommended to lovers of mystery and police procedurals.

* * *

About Robert Knightly by Robert Knightly:

ONCE A WRITER…

That’s true of cops, too.

I’ll start at the beginning. I was a top writer of “compositions” at St. Anthony of Padua’s grammar school in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, where in the Eighth Grade I became starry-eyed about the Life of a Franciscan Teaching Brother. At 12, I signed on at their boarding school/junior seminary (another St. Anthony’s) in Smithtown, among the potato fields of Suffolk County, Long Island. It produced Franciscan Brothers. While there, I won the silver medal in an Irish Essay Contest called “The Feis”. How that came about, what I wrote, eludes me a half-century later, except Google says I participated in a Gaelic Cultural Festival that harkens back to an Irish-style Olympics put on for the High King at Tara. That’s good enough for me. I didn’t make the cut, however, at the junior seminary.

I didn’t take up my pen again till Creative Writing Class in sophmore year in college. It was there that I was dealt a blow that still smarts although it charted the future course of my Writer’s Life. Mary Ann V., I’ll call her, laughed (shrilly) at my first attempt at a short story. I’d set it in the City Room of a metropolitan daily newspaper, where I’d never been. Mary Ann V. compelled me to take stock: If I were to write, I needed material. I needed A Life.

Upon graduation, I immediately ran to the bosom of the Army: it was 1961 and at age 20 I was fodder for the Draft. At the completion of Basic Training at Ft. Dix, New Jersey, we new soldiers waited resignedly for likely postings to Germany (9 months “in the field” during the German winter) or Korea (no warmer). It was a time when the call throughout the Land was: “The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!” The Army, in its wisdom, sent me to San Juan, Puerto Rico as an English Language Instructor. That year every inductee with a college degree was deployed to Puerto Rico to teach the locals an eight-week course in Basic English, after which, upon passing a written test, they’d be drafted. The jibaros (hillbillies) desperately wanted the job while the English-speakers (mostly former New York City cab drivers) contrived to fail the test and be sent home. We instructors were from every State in the Union: high school teachers, PhDs in the Classics, every kind of engineer, a professional race car driver, and newspapermen, one of whom passed on to me his off-duty off-base job as a Night Proofreader on The San Juan Star, the only English language daily on the Island. My benefactor, finished his tour, was going home on the next plane. I kept the job for a year-and-a-half, then passed it on to a bunkmate. While working at The Star I looked on from a distance as the novelist William Kennedy worked the copydesk, presumably writing, off-hours, his Albany cycle of novels that would bring him fame and a Pulitzer Prize (this fact will reveal its significance later).

Discharged from the Army in 1963, the following year I wangled a job as copy boy on the New York Journal-American, Hearst’s afternoon daily in the City, which at that time had seven daily newspapers. The Journal-American operated out of a warehouse-like building that occupied an entire city block on South Street opposite the East River piers. The City Room—cavernous, high metal-ceilinged, with wide-planked pine flooring--- resembled a Turn-of-the Century sweatshop, the sewing machines replaced by Remington Rand typewriters clacking away. On November 22, 1963, I stood among the silent reporters, editors and rewritemen in the City Room, the noise of the Linotype machines next door stopped, as Walter Cronkite on TV reported the death of President Kennedy. In 1966, the Journal-American shut down, but I’d taken notes.

On May 15, 1967, I was sworn in as a Patrolman in the New York City Police Department and joined my Recruit Class at the Police Academy on East 20th Street, in Manhattan, for six months of training. Three weeks later, however, we were all hastily ‘qualified’ with our revolvers at the Police Outdoor Pistol Range at Rodman’s Neck in the Bronx—illuminated by searchlights in the dark---and sent to Precincts throughout the City, as the Department bosses and City politicians anticipated a ‘hot summer’ (shorthand for riots). We stayed in the Precincts on patrol approximately nine months, then brought back to the Police Academy to complete our training, we were by then incorrigible, so graduation was expedited so they could be rid of us. I took copious notes for the next fifteen years. When I wasn’t, I attended Fordham University Law School nights, graduating with a J.D. in 1975.

In 1984, I began again to take myself seriously as a writer. I was by then a Sergeant-Supervisor of a Plainclothes team in the 6^th Precinct in Greenwich Village, charged with suppressing illegal ‘peddling’ (hotdog vendors and Three-Card Monte Games) on the main thoroughfares of Sixth Avenue and West 14^th Street; and drug traffic in Washington Square Park. Off-duty on an early weekday afternoon, I was walking on West 10^th Street, headed to my stationhouse in the West Village on W. 10^th St. between Bleecker and Hudson Streets. I was coming from the New School for Social Research on West 12^th Street, where I was taking a Fiction Writing class with Robert Phelps, novelist and biographer of the French writer, Colette. In fact, he had lent me a copy of “Earthly Paradise: Colette’s Autobiography Drawn From her Lifetime Writings”, which I was paging through as I walked along W.10^th St. I was mid-block when I heard the cry, “Stop him!” Startled, I looked up and saw the bartender on the stoop leading up to the front door of The Anvil, a notorious gay bar (a staple of Village life back then). The bartender, not ten yards from me, was pointing frantically in my direction. I didn’t register the man, gun in hand, till he’d breezed past me. I was in motion after him as I reached for my weapon with my right hand while juggling Phelp’s book, a hefty tome, with my left. I’m no track star--- you try running with a gun in one hand and book in the other (discarding the book was not an option). In jig time, the perp was around the corner onto crowded Sixth Avenue and gone before I’d gotten up a head of steam. No cell phones in those days, but I was sure the bartender had already summoned the cops on the house phone. Shamefacedly, I headed south on Sixth Ave., away from the crime scene, circling around onto 8^th Street heading west to the Precinct. I had nothing of use to contribute, I reasoned, and morale would be ill served by exposing myself to the jibes of underlings. But in the days and months following, I began to see that I had crossed my own Rubicon: I was leaving policing behind. In September, 1987, I retired from the NYPD with 20 years and four months service. I immediately hung out my lawyer’s shingle, in a room rented from a Landlord/Tenant lawyer on Broadway in Downtown Manhattan just below Canal Street. I practiced civil law at first and handled one criminal case---all of which convinced me that I knew nothing about the Courtroom or the Law. Soon I hired on with the New York City Legal Aid Society as a criminal trials lawyer-in-training; their clients were the poor and mostly-guilty (the same folks I’d been locking up in my past life). Life is ironic. Loved every minute in the Courtroom for the next 18 years and took notes furiously.

In 2002, my first literary sale was a Pilot Script, “The System”, to Aaron Spelling TV-Productions and NBC, based on my days as a criminal defense lawyer. In 2004, I sold my first short story to ‘Brooklyn Noir’, an anthology of original crime fiction from Akashic Books. In 2006, I sold a story to ‘Manhattan Noir’, which was picked for inclusion in ‘Best American Mystery Stories 2007’. In 2007, I edited ‘Queens Noir’; and in 2008, published a true-crime story in ‘Brooklyn Noir 3: Nothing But the Truth”. I published my first novel, ‘Bodies In Winter’, a police procedural, in 2009 from Severn House; and my second, ‘The Cold Room’, a sequel, this December.

I’ve worked on newspapers, been a policeman, and now criminal defense lawyer. It’s all been in search of the material for my fiction (thanks to MaryAnn V. in that college Creative Writing class). Life is not only ironic but also circular, I’ve found. I relocated to Albany from New York City four years ago with no clearer purpose in mind than to live in a smaller city. I bought a row house in Downtown Albany (the only place in the world I could afford one) and unknowingly find myself living around the corner from William Kennedy and up the block from Andy Viglucci, the editor of The San Juan Star who hired me as the Night Proofreader 50 years ago. Eerie, no?
* * *

Robert's website is www.robertknightly.com and
he blogs on The Crime Writers' Chronicle (robertknightly.blogspot.com/).
The Cold Room is available from Amazon and at The Book House, the biggest independent in the Capital District, at the Stuyvesant Mall in Guilderland.

(Robert gave me a copy of The Cold Room.)

Reunion II: OLD MEN PACKING HEAT

2012-01-05T06:09:00.000-08:00

That night---three or four biannual-reunions ago--- Louie, our ex-partner, showed his face after being let out of the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville, New York, having served nine years for Drug Conspiracy. I was talking to my other partner, John ‘Super Cop’, when I spotted Louie. I was delighted; I hadn’t seen him for awhile for obvious reasons. “Hey, there’s Louie!” I said. “I won’t talk to the fuck,” John responded, in that old familiar tone--- cold and dead as a tombstone---the one he’d used on the ‘perps’ in the street in the good old days.

I look across the cavernous hall, past the line of aluminum chafing pans full of the usual steaming Ziti Parmigian, Chicken Fransesse, fish-in-a-white-sauce, limp iceberg lettuce salad with flagons of creamy Italian, next to mounds of fresh Italian loaves—lined end to end on the long Bingo folding tables like silver birds in single file about to take flight. I see Louie is surrounded by old cops pumping his hand, touching, laying hands on him in that way men, genuinely moved by emotion, will do, while ever alert to the dangers of losing control.

The glad-handing cops know of the drugs and Louie’s bit in federal jail, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is our shared past on the streets where it counted. Louie had your back; testified to the truth of any cover-your-ass story events required you to tell in Court or to the Bosses; and never, ever rat you out to the IAB Secret Police (except in John Super Cop’s case, of course, but we’re a forgiving lot). Race never mattered. It was You, the Cops, black or white, against Them, the Criminals, always black or Hispanic, on the streets and in the houses of Bushwick, where some of us died by ambush. On July 13, 1977, the lights went out, plunging all of New York City into darkness. The worst of the subsequent riots, looting, arson occurred that night and the following day. Bushwick and adjacent Bedford-Stuyvesant bore its brunt. Many of the stores, on both sides of Broadway, the main commercial artery that divided the 83^rd and 81^st Precincts, were looted, then set afire, over a two-mile-long swath. I was there as was John and Louie and the rest of us. For the first 12 hours, we were ordered by Police Headquarters to make no arrests for fear the station houses would be overwhelmed by the numbers. Every cop in the City had been ordered to report to his Command. Many neglected to put on the uniform; instead, commandeering buses to ride to the scene, armed with nightsticks and baseball bats. We had orders to stop the looters, the arsonists. And we did. We struck them down on the spot, laid them out at the scene of their crimes. All that night, the flickering flames put me in mind of that scene in ‘Gone With the Wind’, the Burning of Atlanta . Only cops, firemen and looters were abroad on the streets. By dawn, we were allowed to make arrests. The riot had lasted a night and a day. By its end, the 133 prisoners who wouldn’t fit in the 83 Precinct’s cellblock were penned in a gated courtyard outside the station house. Later, the Borough Chief in charge of Brooklyn North boasted that no cop had fired his weapon during the riot. Willie ‘S’ of the Eight-Three demurred, “Where the fuck was he, Hawaii?” Perhaps. the Chief was misled by the presence on Brooklyn Streets for days after of men with bandaged heads suggestive of an invasion of turbaned Sikhs. The final tally for the Blackout Riots throughout the City: 1,037 fires, 1616 looted stores, 3,776 arrests, the worst riot in the City’s history.

In 2003, the journalist, Jonathan Mahler, came to our Reunion to research his non-fiction book , “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Bronx Is Burning” (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2005), A Profile of the Year 1977. He included our stories of that Night and a Day. I forget if Louie was there to tell his, or John. I like to think that next Reunion--- if Louie shows up again and John, who never misses--- they will forget the bad old past, sit down to break Italian bread together and remember the Good Times.

Robert's website is www.robertknightly.com and
he blogs on The Crime Writers' Chronicle (robertknightly.blogspot.com/).
The Cold Room is available from Amazon and at The Book House, the biggest independent in the Capital District, at the Stuyvesant Mall in Guilderland.

Reunions: You Can’t Go Back Again (Because ‘There’ Is Gone) You hear about people going to Reunions: high school, college, family, war vets, et cetera. Well, not me. For example, my high school, St. Augustine’s Diocesan on Sterling Place in Park Slope, Brooklyn, was already out of business when the passenger jet made an unscheduled crash landing on its doorstep in the late 1960’s, erasing all prospect of reunions. No matter, I wouldn’t have been attending anyhow. As for St. John’s University College, whose ‘campus’ was in a seven-story former bank building on Schermerhorn St. in Downtown Brooklyn---it’s condos now and even if the doorman would let me in for old times’sake, I’d pass. I spent all of 1956 and half of 1957 at St. Augustine’s as a transfer student, having come from a low-rent seminary that was supposed to prepare you to become a member of the Franciscan Order of Teaching Brothers. St. Anthony’s ‘Juniorate’ (odd name for a high school, right?), no doubt why we boys simply referred to it as ‘Smithtown’, located as it was in the Town of Smithtown on Long Island, among the potato fields of Suffolk County. My short story: I got kicked out after two years, told I was mistaken in thinking I had a ‘vocation’ (I won’t bore you with my sins). So how’d I get there in the first place? Well, you’re graduating from eighth grade in St. Anthony of Padua grammar school (same ‘St. Anthony’, no coincidence); you’re twelve years old and, since the age of five-and-one-half, been shuttled from the school to the looming red brick Church next door when the steeple bells summoned us to prayer. There, all us boys, in our dark-blue worstered trousers, white shirt and clip-on black tie, have been kneeling for all eternity on the hard wood kneelers in the pews in the Lower (basement) Church, interminably humming the five Decades of the Rosary amidst the fourteen Stations of the Cross, as the priest parades up and down the marble-floored aisles spewing swirls of sweet smoke from his incense-burner. No surprise then: After the Good Franciscan Brother reveals to our class that some among us may be ‘called’, on Easter Sunday, at Mass in the Upper Church, drunk on incense fumes, I actually see God point a long index finger at me through the fog, and over the swell of the organ while the choir pounds out the Hallelujah Chorus, I hear Him say to me, clear as a bell: “You! You! Pack your bags!” Upon graduation in February, 1954, I boarded the LIRR, Ronkonkoma Branch, with my ticket punched for Smithtown. One recent Sunday, in the grip of an irresistible impulse to see Smithtown once more, I get on the LIE and head for the North Shore of Long Island. To get to the school, you must drive through the hamlet of Kings Park, once home to the Kings Park Psychiatric Center, which I see from my car on Route 25A, is still there, sprawling on top of a hill but empty, decommissioned. And I remember then being aboard the ancient yellow school bus, the name ‘St. Anthony’s’ painted in black on its sides--captive boys being taken to the movies in Kings Park on a Sunday afternoon more than half-a-century ago--the hospital full of life, the inmates hooting and hollering to us from their barred windows as we speed past. It’s a high point of the trip, riding past the Looney Bin: a happy feeling, I remember, as if them up there and us in our bus were connected. No more acres of potato fields as far as the eye could see along Rte. 25A now-- replaced by row upon row of suburban tracks, Divisions and Sub-Divisions. I drive onto the grounds of St. Anthony’s. It is not a functioning school, it’s obvious. There are some broken windows in the elongated two-story structure, and the white paint is peeling. I think of Iroquois Longhouses, I suppose because of the stretch of the building. I get out of the car and what strikes me is how small-scale everything appears: the buildings, the playing fields behind the main house, the grass badly in need of cutting. The chicken coops are gone as well as the fenced-in execution ground where I beheaded and plucked my first chicken for the Sunday dinner, on orders from the Brother in charge of the Refectory. Everything smaller than I remember it. For it’s vivid, larger-than-life in my memory. Jerome Megna, the pool shark; Joe Rogus, the polio-stricken basketball star; Bill Cullen, the gay librarian from Brooklyn and my best friend; the school’s principal Brother Henry, vain about his PhD in history; Brother Patrick “The Claw’, who taught Latin, had a crippled left hand and the DTs from drink; Brother Linus, the math teacher, who’d feel you up if you weren’t fast on your feet. I swear I remember them all, the faces and their names. I even remember the movie we saw that Sunday in Kings Park in 1954. The Bridges At Toko-Ri; William Holden, Grace Kelly and Mickey Rooney starring. I wrote the movie review for the school paper, The St. Anthony Star. Funny how it all stays with you. The important stuff.

2012-01-04T06:02:00.000-08:00

Stay turned for Marilyn Meredith's review of The Cold Room by Robert Knightly.

Robert's website is www.robertknightly.com and
he blogs on The Crime Writers' Chronicle (robertknightly.blogspot.com/).
The Cold Room is available from Amazon and at The Book House, the biggest independent in the Capital District, at the Stuyvesant Mall in Guilderland.

Robert Knightly Speaks: Where All Old Men Pack Heat

2012-01-03T01:52:00.000-08:00

Reunion: Where All the Old Men Pack Heat

Robert Knightly on the left with friends at the reunion.

There is one place where once every two years I feel at home: the Biannual Reunion of Former Members of the 83^rd Precinct, NYPD. Of course, among the several hundred men (and a smattering of women) who packed the Knights of Columbus Hall on the night of September 16, 2011, a Friday, in Valley Stream, Long Island, there were also in attendance current members of the Command—young enough to be my children (if I had any). But being retired cops, we don’t go to see them (we don’t know them); we go to see each other, familiar faces, comrades—we go to see who’s left. And everyone who is, is carrying a concealed weapon.

Well, not quite everyone. Joey ‘G’ doesn’t have his—scruffy, his clothes as disheveled as I remember (could be the same leisure suit); the curly, unkempt blonde hair going to grey as you’d expect of a man in his mid-sixties. In the 1970’s, Joey ‘G’ was our go-to guy: a cop needed a ‘junker’ to get to and from work, see Joey. What else? Drive the Family Car in, park in and around the Precinct? With the neon light flashing; “COP’s CAR! COP’S CAR!” Definitely NOT--- not in Bushwick, the car-theft capital of Brooklyn, not to mention the army of home-grown arsonists who were busy reducing streets of wood two-and-three-story homes to vast vacant lots.

Of course, this is not the Joey ‘G’ we remember: the hand you shake is no longer heavily callused with thin lines of grease in the cracked skin of the palms, and the soiled uniform shirt is gone---gone years ago with the Job and the pension, after his arrest. On the bright side, no one knew more about the Chop-Shops of Bushwick than Joey, or handed out more free ‘intel’ on the locations to the big ‘collar men’ in the Precinct. Joey ‘G’ has not aged well. (Naturally, I don’t use last names to shield the identities of the Indicted and Unindicted.)

I mingle, keep moving: no choice in a ballroom full of steely-eyed suspicious men; they might think I was wearing a wire (although the Statute of Limitations expired decades ago). I scan the faces, most of which are as familiar to me as family. I’m looking for Louie ‘R’, one of my former partners who hasn’t showed his face here for several reunions, the last time being shortly after his release from Federal prison. He’d served nine years for being part of a Drug Conspiracy selling heroin in Bushwick and neighboring Bedford-Stuyvesant.

In the late 1970s, Louie and I had been two of the four cops assigned to a special patrol unit called the 83 Pct. Conditions Car. Under the supervision of a gung-ho Patrol Sergeant, Freddie ‘S’, we patrolled in uniform in an ‘unmarked’ brown Plymouth—three normal-sized cops stuffed in the back seat, John ‘M’, our own Super-Cop, the driver and Sgt. Freddie, the Navigator. Our task? To stop all crime, arrest every bad guy the Sector ‘RMP’ (Radio Motor Patrol) cars could not manage because assigned to specified geographic areas, having to respond to an endless stream of assignments in their sectors from the Police Radio Dispatcher. So we did the drugs, the gangs, the guns, the counterfeiters, chop shop garages, disorderly premises and who or whatever else needed Special Attention, within the two square miles comprising the 83^rd Precinct. We locked up the whole world. Street lookouts did not yell “5-0! 5-0!” Instead, it was: “BrownCar! Brown Car!”

We executed Search Warrants which, being a lawyer (but not yet admitted to practice, my application having stalled in the Character Committee) I drafted, based on information provided by our stable of a dozen Registered Confidential Informants (‘CIs’). CIs were criminals we’d caught in the act and, with the acquiescence of the Brooklyn District Attorney and the Courts, we allowed to remain at liberty in order to ‘work off their cases’ on the streets. It was all according to Hoyle, strictly on the up-and-up, according to the customs of the day. The CI’s real names were recorded, their pictures taken, and a code name assigned to each man and woman, and they were duly warned that they must not commit any new crimes themselves while spying on their colleagues (theoretically). We rode herd on our CIs, of course, but after awhile it became unnecessary, almost counter-productive. Despite the obvious danger, they really got into their new roles, as if they were cops themselves (and in a sense that was true: they were our Deputized Agents, we told them). One not-so-young female drug user whom we’d christened ‘BlueEyes’ had missed her calling. She’d developed a repertoire of tics—pacing back and forth, circling, twirling her hands, throwing her head back in loud laughter---to indicate the seller was holding. She’d let us know before she went on the set just what moves she’d be employing that day. Watching BlueEyes do her routines was like watching good opera (Violetta’s boudoir death scene in La Traviata comes to mind). Nothing as unremarkable as scratching her head or removing sunglasses for Ms. BlueEyes. It helped that she already had a reputation in the neighborhood as ‘loco’ before she hooked up with us. And, truth is, we felt affection for BlueEyes and responsible for all our CIs, careful never to put them into a situation we couldn’t control. Likewise, we cops were a tight band of brothers--until Louie retired and afterward did the unthinkable.

Louie was caught by the DEA in possession of a large quantity of heroin. After he’d retired in 1978, he’d worked as a courier for an Hispanic Drug gang. He was Puerto Rican and Bushwick, since the 1970s, was predominantly Puerto Rican and Dominican, and Louie was a street-smart ex-cop. When a big-time dealer or his lieutenant is caught (and Louie was so regarded by then), he looks to make a deal: give the cops a bigger fish or a more exotic catch. He chose the latter, implicating our former partner, John ‘Super Cop’ in drug dealing in Bushwick. This was in the late 1980s. I was retired a few years already and John was a Detective Second Grade, the best investigator I’d ever seen, with more eyes and ears in the street than any cop in Brooklyn. His name was on the lips of every junkie and law-abiding citizen in Bushwick, and he was one of them, a Puerto Rican. For all those reasons, the Feds liked him for a dirty cop, and initiated a year-long investigation that ultimately came up with nothing. Yet he’d had to endure the endless questions from the Internal Affairs Bureau within and the DEA without. So when Louie showed up a few reunions ago, the stage was set for a violent confrontation (which cops who’ve been drinking have been know to do).

TO BE CONTINUED-

The Cold Room, Knightly, Robert (Author), Jan 2012. 256 p, Severn, hardcover, $28.95. (9780727880857)

“Unorthodox,” “unethical,” and “unreliable” are among the kinder epithets bestowed on NYPD cop Harry Corbin by his colleagues, several of whom he has put behind bars following a major corruption scandal involving some of the top cops in the department. Exiled to low-priority cases, Corbin stumbles on the body of a young woman, naked, battered, and gutted. With nothing much on his agenda, Corbin vows to find the girl’s killer and bring him (or her) to justice, despite the fact that the higher-ups don’t want Corbin anywhere near the case. His investigation soon draws him into a complex web involving human trafficking, the Catholic Church, Eastern European immigrants, Chechen rebels, and one of New York’s richest families. Clever plotting, plenty of unexpected twists, high-octane action, taut suspense, and a hero who is as admirable and daring as he is rude and gutsy make this compelling new installment in the Harry Corbin series a must-read."
Robert's website is www.robertknightly.com and
he blogs on The Crime Writers' Chronicle (robertknightly.blogspot.com/).
The Cold Room is available from Amazon and at The Book House, the biggest independent in the Capital District, at the Stuyvesant Mall in Guilderland.

Grammar Pet Peeves by Lois Winston

2012-01-02T01:30:00.000-08:00

Marilyn:

Don't you just love the title of this book? And the cover is pretty great too. Read on about Lois Winston and her book, Death by a Killer Mop Doll.

Bio:
Lois Winston is the author of the critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries published by Midnight Ink. Assault With a Deadly Glue Gun, the first book in the series, received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist. The new year brings with it the release of Death By Killer Mop Doll (Jan. 8^th), the second book in the series. Read an excerpt at http://www.loiswinston.com/excerptap2.html. Visit Lois at her website: http://www.loiswinston.com and Anastasia at the Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog: http://www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com. You can also follow Lois and Anastasia on Twitter @anasleuth.

First, I’d like to thank Marilyn for hosting me at Marilyn’s Musings today as part of my virtual tour for the release of Death By Killer Mop Doll.

Grammar Crimes
by Lois Winston

Do you have a grammar pet peeve? I do. Actually, I have several, and it’s all the fault of an excellent junior high school English teacher who drummed the rules of grammar into me. Thanks to Peggy Riley Hughes at Burnett Jr. High, I can’t shake the good grammar habit. And because of Peggy Riley Hughes, I cringe whenever I hear or read bad grammar. I can’t help it. Those rules are ingrained in my brain. If the world had more Peggys, I’d cringe a lot less.

To boldly go where no man has gone before. Remember that opening from Star Trek? Cringe-worthy! Gene Rodenberry obviously didn’t have Peggy Riley Hughes as an English teacher. If he had, he never would have split his infinitive.

Sadly, because there are so few English teachers like Peggy Riley Hughes, the Oxford English Dictionary did the unthinkable a few years ago -- they declared it okay to split infinitives. The horror! What would Peggy say?

Writers have the license to take liberties with their writing. When I write dialogue, I don’t necessarily write in perfectly formed sentences. People don’t always speak in perfectly formed sentences. We speak in sentence fragments. Style often dictates that sentence fragments also be used in narrative. And our characters rarely speak using perfect grammar. They, too, never took an English class taught by Peggy Riley Hughes. And that’s okay. We want our characters to sound real, not stilted.

But there are grammar rules that should never be broken.

Anyone who wants to be a writer, needs a firm grasp of the English language. Why is this important? Won’t the editor correct whatever needs correcting? Once upon a time that may have been the case but not anymore. Editors don’t have the luxury of time to mollycoddle an author who refuses to learn how to write well, no matter how good a storyteller that author is. There are plenty of other well-written manuscripts sitting in piles on editors’ desks or filling up their hard drives. No editor is interested in a high maintenance author. A manuscript full of grammatical errors will garner a swift rejection.

The grammar error that makes me cringe the most, though, is the misuse of pronouns. For some reason, many people think substituting the nominative for the objective sounds more intelligent, no matter that it’s totally wrong. I see very well educated people making this mistake all the time. Will the OED eventually decide it’s okay to break this very basic rule of English grammar? Peggy Riley Hughes and I both hope not. So here’s a little refresher course on proper pronoun usage:

There are 3 types of pronouns:

Nominative: I, you, he, she, it, we, they, and who

Possessive: my, your, yours, his, her, hers, its, our, ours, their, theirs, and whose

Objective: me, you, him, her, it, us, them, and whom

The nominative form is used when the pronoun is the subject of a sentence. The objective form is used when the pronoun is the direct object of the sentence or is part of a prepositional phrase.

WRONG: He likes Mary and I.

RIGHT: He likes Mary and me.

WRONG: He gave the papers to Mary and I.

RIGHT: He gave the papers to Mary and me.

WRONG: The choice will be between you and I.

RIGHT: The choice will be between you and me.

If a pronoun follows than or as, mentally insert the missing words to determine the correct case.

WRONG: I am as tall as him.

RIGHT: I am as tall as he (is).

WRONG: The coach picks John more often than I.

RIGHT: The coach picks John more often than (he picks) me.

Avoid reflexive pronouns -- pronouns ending in self or selves. Reflexive pronouns are used only when they refer back to the subject: He injured himself.

WRONG: The award was shared by my partner and myself.

RIGHT: The award was shared by my partner and me.

Do you have a grammar pet peeve? Post a comment, and you could win one of 5 signed copies of Death By Killer Mop Doll I’m giving away as part of my blog tour this month. The full tour schedule can be found at my website, http://www.loiswinston.com, and the Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog, http://www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com. In addition, I’m giving away 3 copies of Death By Killer Mop Doll on Goodreads, http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/15173-death-by-killer-mop-doll

Also, for anyone attending The American Library Association’s Mid-Winter conference January 20-24 in Dallas, Midnight Ink will be raffling off the hand-crafted mop doll shown in the photo during the opening reception Friday evening. Register for the drawing at the Midnight Ink booth #1459.

Death By Killer Mop Doll blurb:  Overdue bills and constant mother vs. mother-in-law battles at home are bad enough. But crafts editor Anastasia Pollack's stress level is maxed out when she and her fellow American Woman editors get roped into unpaid gigs for a revamped morning TV show. Before the glue is dry on Anastasia's mop dolls, morning TV turns crime drama when the studio is trashed and a member of the production team is murdered. Former co-hosts Vince and Monica—sleazy D-list celebrities—stand out among a lengthy lineup of suspects, all furious over the show's new format. And Anastasia has no clue her snooping has landed her directly in the killer's unforgiving spotlight.

Marilyn again:

Thank you, Lois, for visiting my blog today. I totally agree with you about your grammar pet peeves.

Happy, Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T01:11:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd start the New Year off with some family photos I haven't shown before.

Top on is my hubby when we were on a camping trip with eldest daughter and her hubby, and of course, Archie--the most important part of their family, and one pretty wonderful dog.

In the second picture is Lori, our youngest daughter, who is often camera-shy. But that's a particular good photo of her. At the time, she was training that pup for a service dog.

Today, we'll have other members of the family over for out traditional seafood gumbo. It's something we do on New Year's Day. I use the turkey carcass from Thanksgiving as the base for the soup of the gumbo. The rest of the ingredients are chicken stock, chopped onions and celery, sliced okra, tomatoes, a dash of Tabasco, shrimp and crab legs, served over a scoop of white rice. Easy to make and delicious.

In the past we've had many at our table for this feast including my mom who loved the crab legs/

Today the guests included daughter Lisa, her hubby, Henry, granddaughter Melissa, grandson Aaron and granddaughter Carolyn.

Here's to a great year for all of my followers.

Marilyn

Looking Back over 2011 from under my Author's Hat

2011-12-31T01:00:00.000-08:00

I'm only going to relate what I did as an author, though the drama of a family as big as mine might be more interesting--but I wouldn't have room to write it all down.

I had a new blog every day whether it was a book review, guest author, or something I wrote. I also wrote something new the first and third Tuesday's of the month for Make Mine Mystery, The Stiletto Gang, and an occasional post on the Oak Tree Press blog.

When I was free, I attended the San Joaquin chapter of Sisters in Crime.

My first appearance of the year was in February at the Exeter Museum where I spoke to the Tulare County Historical Society. I also gave a presentation to the Writers of Kern in Bakersfield.

In March, I headed to Ridgecrest and spoke to the Ridgecrest Writers group. I also had the book launch for Angel Lost at Books Off Main in Porterville. I did a month long blog tour for Angel Lost too.

In April, I had a booth at the Jackass Mail Run in Springville and I was on a panel with members of SincLA at the Burbank Library. I also spoke to college students at Mount San Antonio college.

In May, I gave a presentation out at West Hills College in Lemoore. We headed out to Las Vegas where I spoke to the Las Vegas chapter of Sisters in Crime at Barnes and Noble. I sold book at a booth at Visalia's Young at Heart Days and participated in a mystery panel at the Cedar Clinton Library in Fresno.

In June, Hubby and I boarded my daughter's mobile home and headed to Sedona AZ where I gave a talk at the library and another at the Well Red Coyote Bookstore. (And also had a lot of fun.) This month I was also on an 11 day, 11 author blog tour. At the end of the month, I gave a talk to the writers group at Willow Bridge Bookstore in Oakhurst.

July found us back in Las Vegas, this time for the Public Safety Writers Conference--my favorite conference of all.

We joined several other writers and some crafts person at the Nipomo Library in August. Killer Nashville in TN was our next big trip. We had fun and I spent time with my OTP publisher and say many writing friends.

In September, I was a presenter for the Central Coast Writers Conference in San Luis Obispo. That was great fun. I also had a table at the Central Coast Book Fair. My next Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery, Bears With Us made its appearance.

In October I had the book launch for Bears with Us at Books Off Main. We spent two days selling books at the Springville Apple Festival. I also had another month long blog tour.

In November, we went on a week long mystery cruise to Mexico. The last week in November and the first week in December, I participated in an 11 day blog tour with 11 authors, a bit frantic but also fun. We also helped celebrate Sisters in Crime's 25th birthday with the Central Coast Chapter of Sisters in Crime.

December I spent two days at a Christmas Boutique at the Porterville Art Gallery with my books and that was it for this year.

And that was what I did to promote my books. It will be interesting to see what opportunities 2012 brings.

Happy New Year!

Marilyn