Writers Plot

Lorna's Got A New Cover--and News!

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett--aka Lorna Barrett

I've been bugging my editor for weeks now to show me the cover.  Yea--he did.  But then they couldn't decide if they wanted the title to have an AND or an ampersand.

The ampersand won!  And here's the cover.  (What do you think?)

But I have even MORE news.  (Sounds like one of those informercials.  But wait, order now and....)  I'm very pleased to announce that the Booktown Mysteries will soon (relatively speaking) be available as audiobooks (and downloadable).  The recording for the first book, MURDER IS BINDING, was to have begun last week.

It was very exciting to talk to the production manager at Deyan Audio about certain pronunciations.  (Who knew Squamscot soda pop was actually pronounced Squamskit?  And if you're in New Hampshire, why don't you try some of the local soda.  It's de-lish!) He also said I'd be hearing from him about other questions they have as they get read to record the other books.

And I already know who my reader will be: the lovely (and lovely voiced) Cassandra Campbell.  I've heard a sample of her work, and I think she'll do a great job performing the books.

I know I can't wait to hop in my car and spent lots of gas money listening to the book on CDs. 

Do you like to listen to audiobooks?

One man's trash...

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett

Hubby and I have several Christmases.  Friday morning, we did stockings with his mother.  Friday evening, we did a presents exchange with my family.  On Saturday night, hubby and I did our own gift exchange.

I like that.  It draws out the fun, gives you something to look forward to.  Stocking stuffers are always fun.  We've been trying to cut down on the goodies that go into them (think chocolate:  milk, dark, chili (can't wait to try that one), little boxes of Russell Stovers), but inevitably, they stockings are stuffed with them.  Hubby tries to be good, and somehow I always end up with purple, pink, and turquoise pens--makes it easier to find the changes when I edit a manuscript.  And he always includes those little Post-It tabs that I can use when editing a ms to mark the pages I have changes on.  (By the time I'm done reading, there's a rainbow of tabs sticking out!) 

My brother always gets me the best stuff.  This year he gave me the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince DVD (which I did not get to see at the theater), AND Julie and Julia (which I did), AND the best of Will Farrell on Saturday Night Live, and even MORE stuff.  (He really goes overboard and I LOVE IT.)  On Sunday, he called me to ask what I'd gotten from my hubby.  LOTS of DVDs (it's going to be tough to sit down and write the next book and NOT be tempted by all those lovely movies and the entire run of several TV shows).  So I dutifully gave him low-down. 

His puzzled reaction:  "I thought you said you got good stuff."

Hey, I happen to love every one of those movies, including A Christmas Story, Inside Moves, Murder By Decree--I haven't seen the latter two in a long time and wonder if they'll hold up to what I remember.  It'll be interesting to see Murder By Decree again (Sherlock Holmes as played by Christopher Plummer, with James Mason as Watson), especially considering I plan to go see the new Sherlock Holmes movie with Robert Downey Jr.  (who I love!!!).  And it was odd to find out that the director of Murder By Decree also directed A Christmas Story.  Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum!

My brother was also absolutely horrified to find out that hubby had also given me the 1096-page biography of the Queen Mum.  I had to shake my head at that one.  I've already read the first two chapters and can't wait to really dive into it.

So I guess it's true--one man's trash is another man's (or woman's) treasure. 

And what did Santa bring YOU this Christmas?
--------------------------------------------
 P.S.  I hope you'll join me on Saturdays on the Cozy Chicks Blog.  They'll be returning on Sunday with a new Chick--and I'll be returning on Jan. 16th (we have a guest taking my Jan. 9th spot.)  See you there!

When Traditions End

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett

My Dad was a craftsman, and could do just about anything.  He built half the furniture in my house.  Heck, he gutted my first house and made it a home.  (I impeded him with that operation, but learned a lot, as well.)

He went through a lot of hobbies.  For a while he did leathercraft.  I still have--and use--the wallet he made for me over 30 years ago.  He made jewelry.  (I wear 14 rings, five of them he made.)  But one of his most endearing projects were his wood carvings--a hobby that stayed with him for a long time.  He liked to do variations of Santa, and literally did hundreds of them. These little guys were one of his first efforts, and look pretty primitive when compared with his later work.  He gave them to me for my birthday in 1992.  When he'd finished them, he thought they looked like they were singing--and that they should do that under a lamppost--so he made one of those, too!

At first, he was very critical of the painting of his carvings, and even asked my husband to do a few, but in no time he was better at it than Frank, and adding more and more decorations to the little guys.  He did fat Santas, tall Santas and a lot of short Santas.  His favorite were Tomties--little elves that help Santa.  (As pictured on the right.)  He made a LOT of these, and usually they were doing something, (like this little guy holding the candle) and usually wore "wooden" shoes. 

I'm really not sure how Dad got into carving, but for him, it was an adventure, albeit a usually solitary affair.  I had my critique group, and Dad had his carving buddies that he saw every few weeks.  One of them moved to Berea, KY--home of The Kentucky Artisans center, which, like the name says, showcases the work Kentucky's best artisans.  Dad's former carving partner wanted to make a certain carving, but it wouldn't come out right, so Dad made one and sent it to him as a prototype.  Unknown to Dad, the man put Dad's carving into a local competition where it took first prize!  (The one on the left is another version of that prizewinner.)

 As far as adventures go, one day Dad was in his workshop carving, when he called up to my mother.  "I've cut myself."  She figured he'd cut his hand, but he'd actually dropped the knife on his thigh.  When she got down to the workshop, there was so much blood, she thought he'd slashed an artery and got on the phone to 911, then hauled him upstairs to wait for the ambulance.  There was blood everywhere--on the workshop floor, the stairs, all over the kitchen.  The EMTs arrived in record time and got the bleeding under control, but they sent him to the ER just in case.  Then they wanted to see THE CARVING KNIFE.  When Mom showed the guy, he nearly went into hysterics of laughter.  He'd been expecting a 10-inch carving knife, not a tiny 1-inch blade.  (Hey, those suckers are sharp.)  Ninety minutes later, Dad was belly-up to the bar at my Aunt's house where they were supposed to go for dinner--and only 30 minutes late.  (Hey, there was a Manhattan waiting with his name on it.)

One of my favorite carvings is Santa stuck in the chimney.  From the top, all you see are Santa's legs sticking out--but turn the carving over, and there's Santa's sooty face.

Dad didn't do too many carvings these last few years.  His remaining carving buddy moved away and it wasn't so much fun any more.  But last year for Christmas he gave me two of his last efforts.  One was unpainted, the other was a Bear dressed in overalls.  They live in my office, with a couple of fishermen, an owl, and an unfinished Santa tree ornament.  The rest of them reside on a little bookshelf in my living room.  I have carved bunnies, birds, a deer, and even a walrus, and I love them all.

Dad passed away in October, so there won't be just one more "found" carving to go in my collection.  (I know they're there--I've seen them in his workshop, which is pretty much just the way he left it.) 

It's the end of a wonderful tradition.  While it makes me terribly sad, I have all these wonderful pieces that Dad made, a lot of them signed "For Lorraine made by her Dad." 

The were the best Christmas presents ever.

Vintage Christmas Cards

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett

Once again, it's time to haul out the Christmas cards and get them in the mail to friends and family.  For me, receiving Christmas/holiday cards is one of the highlights of the season.  So why is actually writing and sending them such a chore?  (And I say that with love in my heart.) I guess it's because I have a hard time deciding who should get what card.  (I always have at least six or seven boxes of them going at any one time.)

I'm always amazed at the variety of cards out there.  Polar bears must be big this year, because we already have a couple of them (and, gosh, they're cute!).  And I love cards that are all sparkly, too.  (So how come I never buy them to send out?  Hmmm.)  I save my cards, too.  In fact, I have the last card my grandfather sent me about 25 years ago, and every year I post it on the cork wall in my entryway.

It's no secret that I collect a LOT of different Christmas stuff, including ephemera.  I've got old boxes of (never used) wrapping paper, gummed labels, gift tags and, of course, Christmas Cards.  Just the other day I went through a small plastic tote of just the old Christmas cards from the 40s, 50s and 60s, and wish I could send them out to friends and family.  There are two reasons I don't.  First, I don't think an old, yellowing card would be well received, and second--then I wouldn't have them any more.

It's the charming images that appeal to me.  They're from a simpler time, when Christmas wasn't quite so commercial, when people didn't get trampled and die in that quest for a larger TV on sale at 4 a.m.  I like the pictures with houses and snow.  Welcoming front doors with wreaths.  Santa and the reindeer.  Candles in a window.

I often wonder about the people who put these cards together--the artists, designers, and those who wrote the copy.  Things like:

It's fun to say
"HELLO" to you
and send this
MERRY CHRISTMAS too!

Or how about:

Christmas
is a happy time,
A time of warmth and cheer,
A time to say "Hello"
and wish
You joy all through the year!
(This one was signed:  Love Sherman & Diane)

I wish I could hang them all. 

Do you display the Christmas cards you receive?

Maid In America

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett

For years, I've been teasing my husband with a line from an old "Bickersons" comedy routine.  (No, I'm not old enough to remember them first-run; I got an old cassette out of the library and learned the routines playing them over and over again.)  In it, Blanche wails, "Why can't I have a maid?"

When I lived in a small bedroom in my parents first house, it was easy to keep tidy.  Same in my first two (small) houses. But then I got married and moved into a sprawling contemporary ranch house.  (The original owners had expanded with four additions, and finished off three-quarters of the basement, too.)  We, therefore, essentially have four living rooms (it only took 11 years to furnish this place), and we rotate their use on a regular basis.

I don't know how I kept the place clean when I worked a full-time job and had a booth in an antiques co-op (for 12 years), and wrote (but not published) books, as well, but somehow I managed.  Now that I don't have to squeeze cleaning and laundry into my life, it's gotten out of hand.

It's been a stressful year, and cleaning the house was not on the top of my to-do list.  So, after talking about it for months (okay, really, a couple of years), we bit the bullet and called a cleaning service, and then stressed about it or a whole week.

I'd always heard of women who clean before the cleaners come.  "That won't be me," I said. 

I lied.

Two hours before they were to arrive, I found myself on my hands and knees cleaning the bathroom floor.  Decluttering took the better part of an hour.  Everything got stashed in my already messy office, which we hadn't contracted for them to clean.  I had to leave to run an errand, so I wasn't there when the two ladies showed up, and wondered if I could find a way to STAY away while they were there.

No such luck.  They were here for over three hours.

It turns out, I'm not the only writer around who has someone in to clean.  One of my (very successful) author pals said hiring someone to come in and clean her house on a regular basis was the best thing she ever did for her writing career.  It freed up hours and hours every week, giving her more time to devote to her career.  (And she has a REAL career.)  Still, I can't help feeling guilty.

Why do women feel they should do it all?  My husband quit cutting the grass three or four years ago.  Same with snowblowing the driveway.  Gutters?  There's a guy for that, too.  Wanna dig up the garden in a big way?  Just pick up the phone.  We both work from home--and usually seven days a week--and he doesn't feel a lick of guilt over no longer doing his "home chores."  So why should I feel like I'm not holding up my end?

Will somebody tell me it's okay to have the house cleaned on a regular basis -- and not by me?  (And by the way, it really is nice to have a clean house!!!)

Me--A Domestic Goddess?

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett, also known as Lorna Barrett

For years I've been telling anyone who'd listen that I don't like to cook.  I think that may now be a lie.  Lately it seems I'm a lot more interested in food prep than I have been.  It might have a LOT to do with the fact that so much of the food we buy is processed with sodium or high-fructose corn syrup and I really feel better knowing what's in the food I eat.

That's one reason why I expanded my vegetable garden this past summer.  We grew broccoli and Brussels sprouts (which Mr. Groundhog ate most of), tomatoes, a TON of green beans (yum!), potatoes, parsley and cilantro.

For the past few days I've been a cooking machine.  Wednesday I made Potato-Leek soup (the recipe is included in Bookplate Special) and a mince pie.  Friday I made a HUGE lasagna.  Yesterday I made a huge vat of turkey-vegetable soup (which will probably feed me for the entire winter, and nobody else in my family will eat it--I freeze it in small containers), and made cookies for the coming holidays.  (Shortbread and Oatmeal Raisin cookies.)

The thing I'm noticing is that ... I'm now enjoying the process.  Mind you, I love to cook with my husband, but lately we haven't done much of that.  (Note to self:  Bug Husband To Cook With Me.)

This year I've frozen a ton of onions, leeks, and parsley, good stuff for soups and stews.  I have a bunch of crock-pot recipes I want to try.  And since I became a cozy mystery author, I always seem to be testing recipes to include in my books.  (Too bad most of them are so fattening.  But, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for my readers.  And if you believe THAT ....)

Sadly, all this domesticity hasn't manifested into a massive clean up of the old homestead.  And this week for the first time in my life, I'm hiring someone to come in and give the place a good going over.  (I think I'll go hide in the basement while they're here.)

But when I'm in the kitchen, I'm not exactly having fun ... but I do notice I feel completely content when I'm cooking something or other these days.  I like that feeling.

How about you?

The woman with the invisible hands

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett, also known as Lorna Barrett

Every couple of months I'll wake up with a finger missing.  Sometimes it's a whole hand--sometimes (but not often) it's BOTH hands.  I call them my invisible hands.  That's not exactly correct.  I can still see them, but they just don't work really well.  They're too busy tingling. 

I have carpal tunnel syndrome.

Not that I've actually gone to the trouble of having a real diagnosis.  It was the lady at the apothecary who sold me my first pair of wrist splints some twenty or so years ago who did the actual diagnosis.  I said something like, "my hands tingle when I wake up.  Do I need wrist splints?"  She said, "Yup," and then proceeded to fit me.

Was it the constant rewriting of manuscripts (this was back in the days of typewriters) that did it or one too many cross stitch projects?  I'll never know.  But I had to give something up, and as I wanted to be a writer, it was the cross stitch.  (And, as I discovered a couple of years ago when I decided to make a scarf--I had to give up knitting, too.)

The splints aren't a cure, but they're pretty good at making the tingling go away.  I wear them for about a week and then I'm good again for three or four months, which works for me, especially as I've known several people who've had surgery for the ailment and have not reported good results.  That's why I'm perfectly okay with having invisible fingers now and then.

I recently shot the wad and bought myself two BRAND NEW wrist splits.  (Hey, I had to spend those fabulous $9 and $1.78 royalty checks on something, right?)  Oh how glamorous I feel when I don one (or both) before retiring for the night.  NOT!  But they work and I'm not complaining.  (BTW, these aren't pictures of my hands, but my right splint really is black and the left is beige.)

How about you, do you sometimes have invisible hands, too?

Thanksgiving -- it's not a given

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett, also known as Lorna Barrett

I have loads of wonderful memories of my family sitting around the Thanksgiving table, chowing down on turkey, my mother's wonderful bread stuffing, my aunt's marvelous roasted potatoes, and all the rest of the trimmings.  Sadly, this will be the first year I won't have my Dad sitting at the head of the table, and that makes me incredibly sad.

But I do have those wonderful memories, and I'm sure my whole family will be thinking about them as we pick up our forks and knives and dive into the feast.

Yet, in the back of my mind, I know I'll be thinking about others, who won't be seated at a table laden with food.  The hungry.  And I wouldn't even have to leave my suburb to find them.

My latest book, Bookplate Special, is full of food.  In fact, I juggle three subplots about various aspects of the subject.  One of them involves food pantries.  While my story isn't set during Thanksgiving (it's about a month too early), it does involve the working poor and the need for donations.

I did my research just down the road from where I live, at the Greece Ecumenical Food Shelf.  One of its volunteers is our own Doranna Durgin's mother.  Mrs. Durgin gave me a tour of the facility, and answered my many questions relating to the workings of food pantries, including how the food is collected, sorted, and distributed.

Something I'd never heard about were the special "Turkey Day food shelf baskets."  According to Doranna, "The holiday baskets are like Santa Times in Food Shelf land.  My Mom used to be so pleased when they got a basket for a family in dire need--often your average hard-working family suddenly sideswiped by circumstance who never thought they'd be in that position at all."

That's one of the biggest problems these days:  people who used to support food pantries, are in dire need of their services.  According to a recent report in The Washington Post, "Last year, people in 4.8 million households used private food pantries, compared to 3.9 million in 2007, while people in about 625,000 households resorted to soup kitchens, nearly 90,000 more than the year before."

The thought of children going hungry not just occasionally, but on a regular basis, especially in this land of plenty, should be unthinkable.  And yet, it's a fact of life.

So while I'm thankful that I don't need the services of a food pantry, I'm glad it's there for people who do.

There's still time to donate to your local food pantry in time for Thanksgiving.  But the need isn't just seasonal -- it's here 365 days of the year.

Can you help?

 

The Generosity of Cozy Authors

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett -- also known as Lorna Barrett

Last week I sent out my quarterly newsletter.  In it, I offered a large print edition of my first Booktown Mystery, MURDER IS BINDING.  (My editor's assistant had been tidying the office and found an extra copy--so I figured, why not give it away?) The catch?  Readers had to tell me (in 50 words or less) why they wanted/needed a large-print edition of the book.

Whoa, was I  unprepared for the onslaught of requests.  Some of them were downright silly ("I just turned 40 and I don't want to wear reading glasses to read for pleasure") while some were heartbreaking ("I have terminal cancer. . .")

I never said this was going to be a "picked from the hat" contest, as I really wanted the book to go to someone who needed it--not for some frivolous reason, so it was a no brainer to divide the requests into two piles:  "Worthy" and "Better Luck Next Contest." And I could have just chosen one name from the worthy pile and sent them the book.  But I wanted to do more than that.

So I asked a bunch of my friends, also cozy mystery authors, if they could help me out and donate one of their books.

Let's pause for a moment and think about what an utterly outrageous request this really was.  These were MY readers and MY contest, and I was asking my pals to part with a $25 book. We don't get cases of these books.  We're lucky to get two copies of the large-print editions of our books, and more often we only get one.  What would they get out of helping me out?

I'll tell you what, the satisfaction of doing something nice.

There are a lot of nice people out there, doing good for a lot of people, but they rarely get thanked for it in a public forum.  That's why I want to SHOUT OUT LOUD about the generosity of my cozy author friends:

JULIE HYZY

LEANN SWEENEY

DEB BAKER

SHEILA CONNOLLY

SARAH ATWELL (2 books!)

Because of these friends, four more people, one small library, and a nursing home, will have a happier holiday.  (Most of the requests came from unemployed people wanting to give books to their elders with vision problems.)

I'm reminded of the ending of the movie "It's A Wonderful Life," where Clarence the angel gives George Bailey a copy of Tom Sawyer.  In it he wrote:  "George, no man is a failure who has friends."

I think that goes for women, too.

IN THE LAND OF PLENTY

Posted by Lorraine Bartlett, and her alter ego Lorna Barrett

When people think about poverty in the United States, they tend to only think about the urban poor.  Certainly you don’t have to look far in a city of any size to find poor people.  But the vast majority of this nation’s poor (or is the PC term now disadvantaged?) don’t live in cities.  They live in small towns and along rural highways.

I’d never given the subject much thought until I traveled out west.  Sure I’d seen ramshackle homes and kids with dirty faces in my home state of New York, but nothing prepared me for the abject poverty I saw on the Arizona Indian reservations.  When I returned home from that trip, I began to notice just how many people in my own state easily fit into that “abject” category of the disadvantaged.

None of the characters in my latest Booktown Mystery has ever known poverty.  My heroine, Tricia Miles, doesn’t really think of herself as wealthy, but she is.  She came from money.  She received a large inheritance from her grandmother, and a hefty divorce settlement.  So when she learns that people in her own Village of Stoneham are dependent on an emergency food pantry, she’s rather shocked about it.  After all, the village streets are lined with beautiful Victorian homes, nice tract homes, and a revitalized main street that brings in the tourist trade.

In the current economic times, with unemployment going sky high, many middle class families are finding it difficult to make ends meet.  Not only are food pantries serving the urban and rural poor, now they’re being asked to serve people who in the not-too-distant past were supporting them.

In Bookplate Special, the third in the Booktown Mystery series (which is released today), Tricia attends the opening of the newly expanded Stoneham Food Shelf.  Here she learns that looks are deceiving, and how she can help those going hungry in her own town.

The holiday season is fast approaching, but hunger knows no season.  I hope that my readers will be touched by this storyline and motivated to help their local food pantries, not just during the holidays, but all year round. Charles Dickens may have said it best, in A Christmas Carol, when three gentlemen called on Scrooge to make a donation to the poor:  “We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices.”

The need for donations (non-perishable food items and monetary) has skyrocketed.  If you can, I hope you’ll consider donating to your local food pantry so that those who are hungry (children, adults, and the homeless) will have won’t have to face the holiday hungry.