Where Did All the Hours Go?

Is February really gone? I have been focusing so much on working on my fourth book I feel like I have been in a tunnel. Just the same feeling every day – that there aren’t enough hours for everything I want to do. You notice I say want to rather than have to. Want to is so much more positive than have to. I certainly never complain about being bored.

I’m going to the Left Coast Crime Conference in Kona next Friday. When I’m not on panels or going to them, I’ll be finishing my book in my room with a view of the ocean. I’ll be crocheting, too, as I tweak the pattern for this book. And I’ll be watching the sunsets every night.

That’s all for this week because I am running out of hours of today and there is still more than I want to do.

Find your piece of ground

I went to hear Brian Copeland, author of Not a Genuine Black Man, at the Milpitas library the other night. He's a wonderful speaker and has a great story about how his book and the play that preceded the book, were written. Lots of serendipity and universes colliding.

Not everyone can have the mentors that Brian did, like Carl Reiner but luckily for us, he did and passes on the brilliant advice he received. Carl Reiner's advice to Brian was to find his own piece of ground. He said the wisdom came from comedian Fred Allen. Carl Reiner's particular piece of ground was writing about a TV writer and his wife and young son. That became the Dick Van Dyke Show.

It's good advice. Whether you're a quilter making a quilt, a stamper creating a card or collage or a writer, it stands up. Find out what's uniquely yours and explore that. Brian found that being an 8-year old black kid in a neighborhood that was not just whites only, but kept that way by design, was his experience. But in that experience was a universality that makes his work appeal to Holocaust survivors and Asian-Americans and anyone who ever felt different.

Because that's the way it works. You make a quilt about your dog, and people relate. Dog lovers, dog haters, cat lovers (often the same group). People tell you their story. Like yours, only different because it's theirs.

If you're any kind of an artist (and I think we all are), your work will touch people. Or at least has the opportunity to reasonate with someone. If you stick to your specific story, the one you know best, the one that represents you, you will reach a lot of folks.

Spoil Your Pets

I’ve been seeing numerous articles and TV clips on how hotels are encouraging guests to bring their pets along. Of course that’s another way to drum up business. If an owner is eager to bring Spot along on a trip, that owner will undoubtedly pick someplace that makes it easy.

Some of the hotels include pet amenities that rival those for the pampered people who stay there: spa treatments, pawdicures instead of mani-pedis, monogrammed towels, special beds, pet treadmills and gourmet treats. Of course there’s usually a significant charge, but the people who indulge don’t seem to mind.

I recently got back from a trip to Las Vegas where we brought Lexie and Mystie, our Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, along. We stayed with friends who’d encouraged us to bring our pups. It was definitely fun to have them along, although they can be as much extra work as bringing kids. We had to plan pit stops and bring food and treats and water. Then, at our friends’, we took long walks to ensure that the pups didn’t make any mistakes in the house. That included, the first night, a stroll at 5 AM, under the streetlights. We left the dogs alone the next evening when we went to the Strip to see a show--and they escaped from the kitchen where we had barricaded them in! They happily greeted us at the door. Fortunately, they had behaved fairly well. All in all, we had a great time and the dogs certainly enjoyed the extra attention.

Of course, if people all brought their pets along, there’d be no need for pet-sitters like Kendra Ballantyne, star of my pet-sitter mysteries. But then again, sometimes it’s too difficult to bring pets, and there’s nothing like an excellent and trustworthy pet-sitter like Kendra!

How about you? Do you travel with your pets? What amenities do you look for?

Oh, and by the way, I heard today that the First Dog will probably arrive in the White House in April--if the First Family can find a rescue Portuguese Water Dog. I did a quick check on PetFinder.com and only found 2 posted, both mixes, so I’m not sure how easy it’ll be for the Obamas to fulfill that aspiration. More to come, I’m sure!

--Linda

Our own Agatha nominee

Camille/Margaret Grace here -- sneaking in a word "between" Monica and Linda -- to say CONGRATULATIONS to our own Joanna Campbell Slan, nominated for an Agatha for "Paper, Scissors, Death."

Great news, Joanna -- tell us all about how you heard!

Short Subjects

Yesterday I found out that I will need eye surgery on both my eyes. Fortunately, it is a fairly common surgery, with a fairly safe bet of sailing though it with no problems at all. I found out a couple of years ago that I have glaucoma in both eyes, but the eye drops I’ve been using are not bringing the pressure down enough to stop it from damaging my optic nerve. So they propose to cut tiny "trapdoors" in each eye to release liquid and ease the pressure. The surgery will take place on March 19 and April 2 and I will wear an eye patch for a few days after each procedure. Suitably ornamented with sequins, I assure you.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, a season of repentance, reflection and renewal. I wonder how many people caught up in the wildness of Mardi Gras understand it used to be a last hurrah before the stern period of Lent? I consider myself a Christian, but I’m not going to throw myself into all the stern ways of marking Lent – heck not even half of them. But then I didn’t get to go to Mardi Gras, either. :)

I want to take a long train trip early in the summer of 2010, from Minneapolis to Seattle, then down along the coast, then east to Salt Lake City, where I’ll be the speaker at a an Embroiderers’ Guild of America Convention. If anyone out there knows how to go about organizing such a trip – I’d like to stop along the way and do book signings and also take a couple of days to explore Yellowstone – please contact me. Thank you.

Happy birthday

It has been a big month for birthdays: not only a couple of presidents who are worth a holiday, but scientists as well. We have Mendelev (2/7), Bernouilli (2/8), Edison (2/11), Darwin (2/12), Volta (2/18), Copernicus (2/19), Hertz (2/22), and other textbook names.

For such a miniature (sorry!) month, there were some big births.

Sunday, 2/15, was the birthday of one of my protagonists, Gloria Lamerino. I gave it to her deliberately since it's also Galileo's birthday. I gave her boyfriend 9/28, the same as Fermi's birthday.

I've been very particular about the birthdays I give my characters, since mine is so boring: 6/3. It doesn't seem fair since I'm such a big fan of birthdays.

When I taught physics to undergraduates, I'd have parties on the big birthdays of the school year: Einstein (3/14), Marie Curie (11/7), JR Oppenheimer (4/22), and Newton (12/25).

I share 6/3 with Tony Curtis and an outfielder for the New York Mets. No offense, but—big deal. I come right between Johnny Weissmuller, 6/2, and Angelina Jolie, 6/4. So close …

I was excited recently to learn that 6/3 is also Anderson Cooper's birthday. That's a little better.

I have friends who were born on New Year's Day, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, and the Fourth of July. Everyone in the country celebrates with them. I'm envious. I wouldn't even mind if some minor holiday like Memorial Day or Labor Day would fall on my birthday occasionally, but nothing ever happens on June 3.

Do you like your birthday?

{NOTE: I'm guest blogging today with Betty Webb, author of the great Lena Jones series. Stop and visit: http://bloggingwebb.blogspot.com/ }

Choosing Our Better Selves

Finding Our Better Selves

Last night Sean Penn told a group of protestors to find their better selves.

I love that suggestion. So often in life we’re given opportunities to take offense, to hate, to hold grudges, to blame, to be childish, to act like the hurt party, and generally to stoop to that portion of ourselves which is our lowest level. How hard it can be to take that fork in the road which leads to our higher selves! It often requires self-discipline or restraint. It asks that we work harder than we want to. Or that we brush off a small hurt and offer forgiveness—even when we haven’t been apologized to. Or that we refuse to glory in the attention we might receive for being victims. Choosing to be our better selves might also mean extending a conciliatory hand even though we feel we’ve been wronged. Or refusing to side up in a quarrel so we can “punish” someone we find disagreeable.

I’m facing a couple of personal turning points. The easy way beckons. I turned to a friend for a “reality check.” She’s a wise counselor. She pointed out the ways my thinking was erroneous. She pointed out where my expectations were out of whack. But she also pointed out the choices I had before me. She did it all without negativity, with a neutrality which didn’t add to my drama, but instead illuminated the pathways.

My New Year’s Resolution word was “organization.” I chose it thinking about my physical world. But truly, at age 55, maybe I’ve missed the point. Maybe organization starts with my emotional self. A large part of being organized is deciding what you want to keep and what you want to toss. I want to toss out part of my childish self, my less desirable qualities. I want to be my better self. It will probably mean some missteps…but I’m on my way.

PS Check out my personal blog for some cool scrapbook pages featuring doodling. Maybe I can transfer my "disorganization" to paper with good result! We'll see. Go to JoannaSlan.blogspot.com

A Change of Scenes

I left the victim in book four of the crochet mysteries dead on the beach and let my son talk me into going for a walk in the mountains behind us. It still amazes me how we can drive a short distance through some twisty streets of houses, park just before the street ends, and walk into a wilderness. More specifically it’s the Santa Monica Mountain conservancy.

It was a perfect time for a walk. The afternoon had started to fade and the temperature had dropped into the low 60's. The sky was clear except for some clouds that looked like wisps of hair and the recent rains had left everything green and sweet smelling.

The path from where the streets ends led us up to the dirt road portion of Mullholland. We took the opposite turn we usually do and after a short burst of bushes and open area, we passed a large concreted rectangle we think is a helicopter pad or at least we saw a helicopter land there once. It’s surrounded by wild growth and giant hunks of sand colored rock. As we continued, the road turned and there was tall growth on either side with an occasional path going off and disappearing.

When we reached the creepy water tank behind the barbed wire fence we turned off onto an asphalt road that goes a short way and then abruptly ends just before a steep cliff. From there we took a narrow path that led up and around until we reached a summit that offered a fabulous view. The helicopter pad seemed about the size of a postage stamp. Beyond, the San Fernando Valley looked like a sparkling carpet as lights came on. There was still of dusting of snow on some of the taller mountains that ring the Valley. The Santa Monicas aren’t as tall and thanks to the ocean air that finds it way through them, are much greener. As we looked back into the Santa Monicas, we could see mysterious houses tucked into secret valleys that seemed to have no outlet.

The sun was beginning to slide behind the mountains to the west when we started back. By the time we got to dirt Mullholland, the sun was gone and the sky becoming night. Coyotes starting to think about dinner yipped in the distance. We passed pockets of fragrant, cold, damp air that had wound its way in from the ocean. It was completely dark when we reached the street and the car.

Then it was home and back to work on who fed my victim on the beach the deadly s’more.

Talk to the Animals

There was a story in the news not long ago about how a dog running on a freeway was saved when his rescuer realized from the collar he wore that he might understand not English, but German commands. She told him “platz” - down - and was able to save him.

This was fascinating but not necessarily a surprise. People obviously don’t need to speak English to teach their dogs obedience skills. They’ll use whatever language comes most naturally to them--maybe more than one, in families where multiple languages are spoken. In addition, police dogs are sometimes trained in other countries, so their handlers have to learn the commands the dogs know so they can be utilized best.

I did some Googling and came up with websites that translate common commands into other languages. For example, “sit” is “sitz” in German, “assis” in French, “sedni” in Czech and “zit” in Dutch. “Stay” is “bleib” in German, “reste” in French, “zustan” in Czech and “blijf” in Dutch. The websites I referred to didn’t have translations of “slay”--probably a good thing--but they didn’t directly help me translate the title of my first Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter mystery SIT, STAY SLAY. Why Czech and Dutch? The sites said they’re popular training languages. I would have assumed that here, in the U.S., Spanish would be another popular training language, but these sites didn’t include it.

There are also lots of websites that help people interpret their pets’ body language so they know what their pet is trying to convey. Some of them seem fairly self-explanatory, like a dog wagging his/her tail or baring teeth.

In my pet-sitter mysteries, Kendra Ballantyne tells the stories in first person, and she sometimes expresses frustration at not being able to communicate with her dog Lexie, or other dogs, in Barklish, which I intend to mean some kind of straightforward interspecies language. There are definitely days I wish I could communicate with my Lexie and her young Cavalier friend Mystie in a language we all understood.

Then there are my shapeshifter stories for Silhouette Nocturne. My shapeshifters belong to a fictional covert military agency called Alpha Force, and they have a special elixir that not only allows them to shapeshift mostly at will, but also to maintain their human understanding. Those creatures can’t speak English or another human language while in animal form, but they definitely can interpret it.

How about you--how do you communicate with your pets? How would you like to communicate with them?

--Linda

All Natural

Saw a piece of nature in action the other morning. It started when we heard crows cawing frantically outside our window. It kept getting louder and we went for a look and saw a flock of them in a nearby tree – and a large owl sitting on top of a telephone pole. Now and again a crow would launch itself at the owl, who would duck but stubbornly stick to his post. The cawing was drawing more crows and soon the tree was thick with them, and the dives became more frequent. Eventually the owl flew off, the crows in hot pursuit.

I understand this sort of thing happens because both owls and crows have a taste for bird eggs and the tender, newly-hatched young, and crows want a monopoly.

Ah, yes, sweet, gentle nature, if only we wicked humans would give up our corrupt notions of civilization and live more like the natural world . . .

One of the new services our co-op is offering is a half hour of exercise once a week – we’re supposed to do the exercises on our own the other days – and I went down yesterday to have a taste of them. They are pretty gentle, stretching one of those Therabands, a long band of elastic, doing leg lifts while sitting in a chair, and I was shocked to find them not as ridiculously easy as I thought they’d be. All those hours of sitting at my desk writing have at last caught up with me. I go three mornings a week to the Courage Center, which has an Olympic-size pool where I do water aerobics, but obviously I need these new exercises, too. Turning into a senior citizen stinks, and I’d turn down the honor except I like the alternative even less.

On March 4 I’m flying down to Ft. Myers, Florida, to stay for nine days with my mother while my sister Dolores takes a little vacation. Mom is getting frail – she’s 90 – but her mind is clear. She does crossword puzzles and jumbles in ink! But she’s confined to a wheelchair and can no long live alone. She lived with my sister Therese in Wisconsin for a few years, and is now with Dolores. She’s pretty good company, but her medical problems are mounting and her next stop is likely to be a nursing home. We are all dreading that, not least her. I used to be repulsed at a prayer in my Catholic missal for a "happy death," but no longer. I wish I could find that old missal.

Little things mean a lot

I don't know about you, but when someone tells me she bought a building and turned it into a museum for her collection of dolls, dollhouses, and miniatures, I'm impressed!

Today I'm sharing an interview with the woman who pulled this off—Lori Kagan-Moore, curator of The Great American Dollhouse Museum in Danville, Kentucky.

Lori's bio, in a nutshell (so to speak):

Lori Kagan-Moore's professional voyage has led her from a clinical faculty position at Ohio State University's Department of Psychiatry through a number of exciting years as owner and operator of Lori's Antique and Vintage Jewelry in Lexington, Kentucky, to her current position as Curator of The Great American Dollhouse Museum. Coming from several generations of professional antique appraisers, auctioneers, and storeowners, she has a long-term familiarity and love of the antiques business, and miniatures in particular.

Lori holds an undergraduate degree from the University of Michigan, a Master of Arts in Public Administration (MAPA), and a Masters in Social Work (MSW), both from Ohio State University.



Questions for Lori

Did you have dollhouses as a child?
I had one large and plain wooden one, which wouldn’t bring five dollars in the Museum Store today. However, I decorated it myself, from the wallpaper to the fixtures to the furniture.


What’s in the Museum?
The Great American Dollhouse Museum is a social history museum in miniature. Social history looks at the day-to-day lives of ordinary people during various periods of history. While political history or military history may spotlight George Washington or the Battle of Gettysburg, social history focuses on how people worked, played, and related to one another in times gone by.



How did the Museum get its start?
In 2003, I decided to create a unique dollhouse museum. I envisioned a lively, vivid museum that would contribute to the community through both its educational and its entertainment value. I wanted to create a museum bursting with stories, both the larger story of the history of the country, and the individual stories of the little “people,” who would inhabit the museum exhibits.

As a collector of antique miniatures from early childhood, I purchased and assembled, over five years, the dollhouses, miniatures, and dolls needed to realize my vision. With help from my committed team, I restored and furnished close to two hundred dollhouses and room boxes. In addition, my husband, Patrick Kagan-Moore, and I purchased the building, undertook extensive renovations, and began landscaping the surrounding grounds.


Tell us about the building.
Reports suggest that tanks were once parked in front! Built as a National Guard Armory in 1939 by the Works Progress Administration, the 6000 square-foot building was designed to house heavy vehicles and equipment. The building’s beautiful barrel ceiling, with hardwood purlins and massive steel trusses, rises 20 feet above the ground.

In 2006, we purchased the building and grounds for the museum. I liked this building’s location and size, its age and history, and I particularly loved the high arched ceilings and steel bowstring trusses. Because I wanted the museum to be part of Danville’s preservation and tourism efforts, I was thrilled to find a historic building so close to downtown.



To create the museum, the building had to be gutted all the way to the block walls. A new architectural roof was erected on top. New plumbing, electric, heat and air-conditioning were installed, as well as walls, windows, bathrooms, doors with panic hardware, and a monitored fire-alarm system. The ceiling’s hardwood purlins and steel bowstring trusses were lovingly restored. Antique church lighting was added to enhance the sense of age, size, and warmth, while floors and walls were faux-finished to match the exhibits. With great help from John Flint of FRA Engineering, and many other wonderful contributors, the building met State Code standards and earned its Certificate of Occupancy in 2008.

The Great American Dollhouse Museum sits on two acres stretching from Sixth Street to Swope Drive in Danville, Kentucky. Over the past two years, the museum team has planted more than 200 trees, shrubs, and vines. The museum team plans to create a beautiful park that will enhance the museum experience and provide landscaped outdoor space for the enjoyment of the Danville community.



What's your favorite piece in the museum?
I love them all; I picked each one for the museum, so naturally they're all houses I adore! However, there are certain ones that touch me particularly. For example, there is a self-portrait room box of a Kentucky miniature artisan, Al Vereycken.




The miniature Vereycken sits in his contemporary workshop, complete with miniature saws and blades, tools of all kinds, paints, brushes, glues, and miniature piles of sawdust. He examines the Victorian dollhouse, about 3 inches in height, that he has just completed. Further into the Museum, the visitor will find the full size (3 feet in height) Victorian dollhouse created by Vereycken and shown in his roombox/self portrait. I have furnished his real dollhouse with German Victorian antiques, notably Schneegas items. Vereycken has passed away, but I like to believe he would be very pleased.



I try to balance fine artisan work with antique dollhouse pieces, and to make them function well together. I find that they enhance one another: the contrast between them serves to highlight each of their distinct kinds of beauty connection with their makers.

Learn more about the Museum at http://www.thedollhousemuseum.com/index.htm
You'll be amazed at the extent and the educational and entertainment value of the exhibits.

Tweet, Tweet, Tweet--You Could Win a Box of Books!

Argh. Every day I open my email and think: I don’t have time for all this. I especially don’t have time to update my website, to check all the posts on all the list-serves I belong to, visit every online community I need to, and comment on everyone’s blog as I should.

But I do have time to Twitter. Apparently, the rest of the world agrees. The site has reported an eight-fold rise in visitors since 2007, and in December reported 2.7 million people stopped by. At this rate, it is poised to overtake Facebook. It’s especially popular among the young and restless. One in five people between the ages of 18 and 35 with Internet access have “tweeted” or posted short messages of 140 characters on Twitter at least once.

Why do we twitter? Because we can. Because I can dash off a 140-character (that’s letters and symbols, not characters as in people who populate books!) post to update people on the release date of Cut, Crop & Die, the second book in the Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery Series. (That’s June 1, so mark your calendars or go to Amazon.com and place your order.)

Because I can post regular journaling prompts to remind scrapbookers the world over to write about their own lives. (Check it out at twitter.com/joannaslan. If you are an author, the journaling prompts are great tools for overcoming writer’s block. Try them and you’ll see!)

Because I can follow my favorite authors, geeks, and newsmakers by hitting the FOLLOW button.

Because I can make a post to Twitter from a Blackberry. (Try doing that with a regular blog post. I mean, if you are young and have well-trained thumbs, you probably can handle this, but I can’t. Yet.)

Because Twitter will automatically take any regular URL and turn it into a tiny URL and post the link for me. Because I can quickly scan the posts and see what interests me. Shakespeare said, “Brevity is the soul of wit,” so I think he would have LOVED Twitter.

Because Twitter fits. I can squeeze it in.

Want to see how it works? Become one of my followers on Twitter and I’ll enter your name in a contest to win a Box of Books. Yep, I did find time to cull an entire box full of mysteries from my bookshelves. (It's a BIG box.) So, add your name to my followers on Twitter by going to twitter.com/joannaslan, hitting FOLLOW, and then emailing me at savetales@aol.com and telling me you are now following me. Be sure to tell me your “twitter” name so I can see that you did it! (No cheating!) I’ll choose one follower and mail him/her that box of books. (Please include your postal address with your email to me at savetales@aol.com. If you don't include it, and if I can't email you and get it within a day or two, I'll draw another winner.)

Let’s see if this Tweeting works!

PS You can hear a live broadcast of a scrapbook crop at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/circle-of-seven/2009/02/14/readers-entertainment-radio-with-guest-joanna-slan-author-of-paper-scissors-death If you have NO idea what a “crop” is, or why women love them, this will be very, very enlightening!

Guess Who's Having Dinner

More action on my street.

It started with a flyer being dropped off announcing that MTV was going to be filming an episode of Rock Dinner at a house down the street. The shooting was to include an exterior music performance in the yard after cooking and eating a meal in the house.

My immediate response was what rock star lives down the street? Then I realized there was a good chance that even if I knew it was, I wouldn’t know who they were, if you know what I mean. Not that I really should have been spending time on this. The fourth crochet mystery is due March 1 and I am rushing to finish it.

The next day both sides of the streets were lined with a generator, trucks, cars and vans. A bunch grungily dressed people seemed to be involved in setting things up until late in the evening.

When Thursday rolled around even though they posted the filming hours as 7:00 a.m. to 12:00 a.m., the street was quiet until afternoon. But then that goes along with musicians. It was obviously a low end production. There was one trailer, two port a potties and no security. In contrast the production on our street a few months ago had trucks with dressing rooms complete with real bathrooms, a whole line of fancy trailers for the actors, and an off duty motorcycle cop to keep an eye on things.

So, I was still wondering who this rock star neighbor was.

Night fell and I took my dog for a walk past all the trucks. Blindingly bright lights were set up in the front yard of the house. The production assistants and assistant director types were hanging around in the street caught up in their self importance and I asked one of them what was going on. A lanky guy with an attitude said they were shooting a mayonnaise commercial. Like, sure. The dog and I went home.

Around 11:30 p.m., I took some garbage out and heard the thump of music along with the excited squeals of fans coming from the house down the street. Now I got what the white vans parked across the street were for. They had brought in fake fans for the outdoor performance. But I was kind of surprised they were making so much noise so late. My husband went down the street determined to find out what rock star had cooked and eaten dinner and was now performing in their yard. I figured he knew how to talk the production people’s talk since he’d produced TV shows including a Michael Jackson special (a long time ago before Michael got weird). Meanwhile I listened from the end of our driveway. The music was unintelligible, and the screams were obviously choreographed.

So who did my rock star neighbor turn out to be? Well, actually it wasn’t a rock star, but a band. And such a not famous band that the production assistant didn’t even know their name, just that they were a Latin band that was popular in Puerto Rico. And no, it wasn’t even their house. And then figuring my husband was a crotchety neighbor annoyed by the noise, the P.A. said they’d be finished soon. I didn’t hear exactly when the music ended, but around 1:00 a.m., I did hear the rumble of trucks as they drove away.

I wonder if even the cooking and eating dinner part was real.

Brainstorm

Brain. Storm. My two favorite words.

INKED UP is coming back for its final revisions, and I’m in the planning stages of the third one. April and her stamping friends continue to get into trouble of course, but how exactly can I raise the stakes on them? How to keep the books coming in a fresh way?

Author Emilie Richards blogged about spending a week in Florida brainstorming with her writing friends. I don’t have the luxury of that – yet – but I do have great writer friends. And they're always available for a good brainstorming session.

The best thing is that they know my characters almost as well as I do. They know what April may or may not do. They know what Mitch is thinking about this relationship. They can guess what path Rocky might be taking.

There is nothing like the energy that comes from several people tossing out ideas. We follow the number one rule of brainstorming, that no idea is a dumb idea. The only question allowed is “Why not?” or “What’s next?” and soon ideas are flying and build to a crescendo.

The magic continues after I get home. My brain is still throwing out scenarios and situations, sticky wickets and complications. All the connections that are needed for a good read.

Kurt Vonnegut said for a happy life, get a gang. I say get a gang and brainstorm.

Blogging About Blogging

I’m delighted to say that I have been selected to blog on Romance Novel TV next Monday as part of a special celebration of Silhouette Nocturnes and Nocturne Bites. I’ll have a blog posted as of 2:00 PM Eastern time and hang around to answer comments for a few hours after that. I’m in excellent company, since the senior editor of the line, Tara Gavin, will be blogging first thing that morning, and two other excellent Nocturne writers, Michele Hauf and Maureen Childs, will also post that day. The celebration lasts for two more days as well.

I’ll be posting about: Three things I Learned About Myself Writing Paranormal Romance. Ideas are swimming around in my head but I haven’t started writing yet. Maybe I’ll mention my favorite saying: “Reality is only for those who lack imagination.” Maybe I’ll mention the lure of full moons. Haven’t decided yet, but it’ll be fun to write.

Do you have any thoughts about how you would respond to this topic?

And please come to visit me there, too!

--Linda

Needlework Market

Nashville Needlework Market was fun. But I noticed there were just a few less vendors and a lot fewer shop owners there to buy. There were some beautiful products there, some innovative ones, some clever ones. There were people there to buy, but no crowding, no lines waiting to pay and haul off huge boxes and bags of product. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t sparsely attended, there were people in every shop, it just wasn’t jammed. I think part of the problem is that the market was taken over by a different organization, and there was a rumor that this might be the last Nashville market, so both suppliers and buyers were a little wary about coming. But another problem is the economy. Stitchers, like everyone else, are just buying less right now. I didn’t think that would happen, not because I’m enthusiastic about stitching (though I am!) but because this hobby, by and large, is not an expensive one. You can buy a cross stitch pattern (or a book of patterns) for less than ten dollars (less than five in a bargain bin), a big fistful of floss for five dollars, a piece of fabric for a couple of dollars, a packet of needles for a couple more dollars, and be set for weeks of stitching. The pattern can be used over and over, and you very rarely use an entire skein of floss on one pattern, and of course needles go on and on.

Of course, it’s entirely possible to go into a needlework shop and spend a hundred – two hundred! – dollars on fancy overdyed silks, platinum needles, a dozen patterns, the stretcher frame, and high-end linen fabrics. Plus the several hundred needed later, when the piece is finished, to have it stretched and framed.

Still, it can be an inexpensive hobby, if you’re careful.

I talked with a woman in Nashville who owns a company in Pennsylvania that spins and dyes wool. Fascinating. I am quite sure that I want to write a mystery called Died in the Wool, though it will take a lot of research.

If any of you have read my mystery Crewel Yule, you know what the setting is and what it’s like at the market – except, of course, that no one has ever yet been tossed over an Embassy Suites railing into the courtyard at a market.
One of the patterns I bought there is from the Cross Wing Collection: a pair of loons on dark blue water, one with a baby loon on its back. It’s a very beautiful mood piece that I am afraid to attempt, because it’s stitched on dark blue fabric – which I also bought. So I am thinking of hiring someone to do it for me. I would ask her not to do the reflection-on-water part, so I can at least have some participation in the working of the pattern. I talked with her on the phone and asked how much she charges and it’s a penny a stitch. The thing is 328 stitches long by 82 stitches high – though there are open places in the pattern. Still . . . All of a sudden a penny a stitch doesn't seem much of a bargain. I’m going to ask for an estimate. I feel as if this might be cheating, to hire it done. Possibly it is. But when I think of those evenings at the cabin up north, when the loons start making their eerie cries, the desire to have this piece becomes very strong. Of course, if she gives me an estimate that scares me, then I guess I’ll have to tell her Never Mind, and try to do it myself. One of these days. Sure, one of these days.

The perfect party

There's nothing like the combination of books, crafts, and dessert! That was the scene at a launch party for "Malice in Miniature" on Sunday. Jasmine Clemmons, owner of Jazzy Crafts in Castro Valley, CA was the best hostess, providing supplies for making miniature flowers.

Our main project was making tiny vases of flowers. It couldn't be simpler. I've recently found a product, Flower Soft, which is basically bits of colored foam. You take a 2-inch piece of wire, dip it in tacky glue, then roll it in the foam, or pat the foam on, let dry a few minutes (stick into a piece of Styrofoam or the like). You then gather 4 or 5 of the flowered sticks and insert into one end of a bead. Add a little glue to the bottom. Pictured are some of the flowers, and also, for scale a life-size vase of flowers.





SO much fun!



And, oh, yes, some book business, too. (Don't you love the cropping tool -- the fastest diet!)

What do Newman, Berry and Deaver Have in Common?

I just returned from Love Is Murder, the outstanding mystery conference held in Chicago. The days were full of informative sessions about the craft of writing.

But buried were a few tidbits that I bet most people glossed over: How hard successful authors work.

Sharan Newman talked about being given 5 months to write one of her books, a non-fiction reference work. Each day she would first care for her mother who has diabetes, and then go to her office and work until the end of the day. That was it. That was the sum and total of her existence.

Steve Berry only quit his full-time law practice last year. He had four attorneys working for him. That was his "regular" job on top of writing a historic thriller a year. Before his first book sold, he trained himself to write a big book a year because he wanted to be with a New York publishing house, producing a book a year. So even BEFORE he had a contract or an opportunity, he wanted the mindset and discipline he knew he'd need to reach his goal.

Jeff Deaver told me he rarely talks about how hard he works. He doesn't come to conferences to rain on people's parades. But he spends 8 to 12 hours a day "in a dark room" working on his books. It takes him 8 months to research a book, BEFORE he begins the actual writing. Then he's on the road 3 months--or as he put it "three months of one hotel after another"--to promote his new work.

All of this is in concert with Malcolm Gladwell's new book Outliers, where he notes it typically takes someone 10,000 years of effort to achieve mastery.

There's a reason Sharan, Steve and Jeff are such successful authors. They've worked hard to achieve their goals. We want to think that success is luck and talent, but it's clear to me that there's a component too easy to dismiss: time spent on one's craft.

Why the Gym Won

Several people seemed surprised that I chose the gym over writing my blog last week. Not too long ago I would have agreed. Most of my life I was a washout at anything athletic. I almost flunked bowling in college.

I go to a woman’s gym and when I joined it, I thought I would probably end up going a few times and that would be it. That was fifteen years ago and if anything I go more often now. During the first few months I was a member, I asked a fitness trainer how she got herself to keep working out. She didn’t really have an answer, but I figured out one myself. Very simply going to the gym makes me feel good. It ups my cheerfulness, and gives me energy. The routines in the cardio class sharpen my brain. Yoga centers me and helps keep my spine supple. Indoor cycling and kick boxing are always a physical challenge. The weights and floor exercises make me feel stronger.

And exercise helps my writing. When I get stuck all it takes is a few minutes in a cycling class and ideas start flowing. I always keep some paper and a pen in my gym bag for the inspired ideas that so often show up.

Since I am spending so much time sitting in front of a computer or sitting and crocheting as I rush to finish the fourth crochet mystery, the gym offers a balance. And there is the fun aspect. Yes, I have fun at the gym. When the music is good and my endorphins are pumping and the steps all flow like dancing, it’s fun. And the good feeling lasts all day. I’m posting this late on Friday, so I won’t have to make the choice of writing versus cardio dancing again. I already know what would win.

Purses

I got a compliment the other day from the young waitress working the dinner shift at a local restaurant. I’m not much of a fashionista, and pay little attention to current trends, so I was surprised.

She liked my purse! You may remember I blogged about the dearth of interesting pocketbooks a few months. Well I’ve been a personal mission to correct this at least in my own household. Tend to your garden, isn’t that what Voltaire said?

So I’ve been making bags. The purse that caught the waitress’s eye was this one. The pattern is Bow Tucks Tote by Penny Sturges from Quiltsillustrated. I love this bag.



This Miranda bag from Lazy Girl Designs is one I’ve been working on too long. I think I started it in November. I’ve made several of these and am retiring one that I’ve worn out. I thought upholstery fabric would make a great bag. Not really. The layers of fabric, lining and craft fuse got too thick to sew on in spots, requiring two different machines and a zipper foot. But it’s done now and I like it a lot.



The Chubby Charmer pattern is also from Penny Sturges. It’s a large bag, measuring 14"x18". After hearing Kaffe Fasset lecture in last month, I was inspired to use mostly his fabric. Love it! The handles are nylon webbing that felt a little uncomfortable on the hand so I covered them at the top with padded fabric. Feels nice now. Great for carrying books back to the library or for farmer’s market finds.



This bag is being auctioned at the annual Sisters in Crime meeting tomorrow in Oakland. How much would you bid?

On-Line Research

My post today is taking a slightly different turn from what I had originally anticipated.

I saw a news clip on TV a couple of nights ago night about a cat who’d been up in a tree for quite a while, and no one had been able to coax her down or rescue her in any other way. I thought I’d blog about that stubborn and scared cat, using her as an analogy to our lives these days. Many people, these days, are up proverbial trees economically--aware of how they got in perilous positions but unsure of the best ways to get out of them. The news commentator finished up the story by saying that the cat would probably find her own way down in the next few of days, since rain is expected in the L.A. area. Will she make it safely? Let’s hope we all do!

I wanted to view the clip again on the Internet, but I haven’t been able to locate it. I checked the websites for the TV stations on which I watched the news that night but couldn’t find it there, either.

I’d imagine I’ll run into the story again, probably after I get this posted. But I also want to express frustration that is born of our technological lives today.

Yesterday morning, when I turned on my computer, my Internet access wasn’t there. I did the usual rebooting, unplugging and plugging my modem back in. Nothing. We’ve had problems now and then with the company we use for our Internet service, so I called them. I’m still not exactly certain what the problem was, but the very nice lady at the other end (in some foreign country, I’d imagine, although her accented English was quite good) put up with my grumping, checked whatever she was able to check, gave me some additional instructions for turning things on and off, and--voila! It came back.

But I didn’t find the story I sought. Also, yesterday, I tried to look up the name of a particular employee at a government agency to confirm the spelling of his name and couldn’t find it on the agency’s website. Years ago, I wouldn’t have even considered trying to watch a TV news story again, unless it was rerun on the same channel. And I’d have looked up the government agency in the phone book, called its number and asked my questions about the employee. All potentially time-consuming.

My conclusion: The Internet is spoiling us! We get so much from it that we expect even more.

I saw this week that Google Earth is now launching Google Ocean, so we’ll not only be able to zero in on even small buildings at most locations on this planet, but also see undersea mountains and formations and sealife as well.

Talk about being spoiled!

What are your favorite things about the Internet? Your least favorite?

--Linda

Travel Notes

I’m packing for Nashville, going to a national needlework market put on by The National Needlework Association, an organization by and for needlework shop owners. Since I’m going by car, I’m going to bring a lot of luggage. Are you like that, too? I can travel light when I’m flying, though that generally means I can bring just one hat, and I have to carry that one on my head. But give me a car, and oh, boy! Two suitcases! Three or even four hats!

When traveling by plane, I have to ask myself, "What can’t I do without?" When traveling by car, it’s, "What else do I want to bring along?" This time I have to go a little light on that because I’m traveling with two other women, and while we’re good friends, I don’t think they’d appreciate me taking up all the space allotted to luggage.

I submitted the synopsis of what I hope will be the Betsy Devonshire novel to follow Blackwork to my agent late last week. She read it and called with a couple of suggestions, one of which was absolutely brilliant and exposed a blind spot I’d evidently developed about the plot. Oh, the joys of having a really good agent! Thank you, Nancy Yost! Any of you writers ever do that? Come up with a beautiful idea for a plot and write it out, either as a synopsis or even as the entire story and have someone, on reading it, point out a perfectly obvious flaw in the thing? One that until that moment totally escaped you? Makes you bite your knuckles to stifle the ugly words coming up your throat, doesn’t it? Unless that someone is in your writers’ group or is your agent, or a good friend, or someone, anyone, who can prevent a publisher from seeing it in its flawed state. Then, while you still bite and mutter, you afterwards send thanks wafting upward that you were saved from making a mistake that could have cost you a sale. Or at least made your editor at the publishing house start wondering if you were losing your touch.

I am in the very early stages of planning a train trip out west. The destination is Salt Lake City, for an Embroiderers Guild of America convention in the summer of 2010 – does anyone else still think a number like 2010 doesn’t look like a year? – but I want to travel down the west coast, stopping at needlework shops and bookstores along the way to do signings. I love train travel and this will be the train trip of a lifetime. As soon as EGA firms up the date of the convention, I’ll start lining up stops on this trip. I wish a whole bunch of stitchers could come along for a huge, lengthy stitching retreat!

What's in a name?

"Malice in Miniature" hits the shelves today—the third book in my Miniature Mystery series. I suppose I can't call it a "new" series anymore. And I can hardly say my penname is new, either. In fact, I've been using "Margaret Grace" more and more.

The first time I used my penname outside of a book event was when I was ordering a birthday cake over the phone. "Who'll be picking it up?" the person asked. I happened to be looking down at one of my books, so instead of saying, "Camille Minichino," I said, "Margaret Grace."

"Okay," the clerk said.

That easy! No spelling it twice? No "Is that Carmel Mendocino?" "Is that two m's and one l? Oh, one m and one l?" "Did you say Maraschino?"

And so on.

In my neighborhood growing up, my name was one of the simpler ones to spell and pronounce. I went to school with a Pietropaulo, an Abbagnale, a Castelnuovo, a Bocanegra, and others equally complicated to the non-Italian-American.

I remember in fourth grade, a new girl came to town. Her name was Beth Rogers. No one could pronounce her name.

Sometimes I wish my "new" books had my "real" name on them. But both names are real, I remind myself; they represent different sides of me.

Do you have only one name? Do you like it?

This and That

1. SuperBowl and Kurt Warner--Kurt used to be a neighbor when he was the quarterback for the St. Louis Rams. One day we saw him at the local grocery store. My son was pretty awe-stricken, and of course, we didn't have anything on us for autographs. But Kurt helped us track down a piece of paper and was very gracious. When a star is kind to your kid, in an unguarded moment, you always remember that. So here's to Kurt! He's a poster child for a guy who never gave up on his dreams even when he was stocking groceries and folks said, "Um, get a life, buddy," he believed in himself. Even when the Rams let him go after he broke his hand, he never stopped thinking he could get back on the field and fire a cannon. That's an inspiration to all of us.

2.Please, No More Help!--I'd been complaining about how cold my feet get in my office, which is in our basement. So to be sweet, my husband plugged in a space heater and fired it up before I went down to work. In fact, since he gets up earlier than I, he did it BEFORE I was out of bed and BEFORE he made me my daily latte. (I know, he's a gem!) Unfortunately, the space heater blew out the electrical system in my office. When we finally got things running again, my hard drive sounded like a blender. So David then had to take my computer in to get it fixed. The culprit? Dog hair. (Which is really odd because our dogs don't shed!)

3. Oh, Doggies, Could You Read That AAA Card to Me?--Last week David was in Tupelo, Mississippi, playing poker in a series of tournaments. On Monday, with all the bad weather threatening, I decided to take the dogs for a ride and go get groceries. I loaded them in the car, got part-way down the drive and remembered the box of food I wanted to mail to our son. I turned off the motor, left the keys in the ignition--I didn't want the dogs to knock the car out of PARK--ran inside and grabbed the box. After I closed the trunk, I tried to get back in the car. It was subzero, so I was in a hurry. But...the car was locked. One of the dogs had stepped on the door lock mechanism.

Inside the car was my purse. I ran into the house--fortunately I could still get in--and called Triple A. The woman was very kind, and told me, "This happens all the time, but usually when drivers pick their dogs up at the vet's office." She dispatched someone to help, but she also asked, "What's your Triple A number?"

Um, that was in the car with the dogs.

I thought maybe if I hung around outside long enough, one of the dogs might step on the door lock mechanism AGAIN and unlock it....

A few minutes later, my husband called from Tupelo. I try NOT to call him when he's off playing poker. I don't want to wake him up after a long night of playing or interrupt him when he's at a table. But, he was there on the line, and he knew where I could find a second set of keys. Whew.

4. Love Is Murder--I'll be up at Love Is Murder in Chicago. They always put on a great conference! Hope to see some of you there this coming Friday, Saturday and Sunday.