The wind hit at about three in the afternoon. A stiff breeze that turned into a raging blast. At a hundred miles an hour, it tossed trees, tore off shingles, smashed roofs, and tangled wires into a massive mess that Pacific Gas & Electric took six days to unsnarl. In the meantime, a refrigerator full of food sat unused, the propane furnace was useless without electricity to the thermostat, matches were required to light the range, and no water without the water pump, no washing, no showers, or toilets flushing. So, there we were roughing it at the edges of civilization. In a normal year, let’s say without a pandemic, one would make reservations at the nearest hotel.

That may not have worked anyway because every PG&E employee plus ten was housed in the local hotels. So, we set about making the best of it. We drove down the hill to the local drive-through for breakfast and bought sandwiches at a grocery store, which we then ate sitting in our car in various parking lots, listening to the news, and charging our phones. We weren’t the only ones.

The wind tore chunks of shingles off our roof and deposited limbs with abandon. Our realtor recommended a roofer, he didn’t do repairs anymore. But at the mention of her name, he recommended someone who did and said to use his name with specific instructions on how to reach said roofer. That is why we are the only people in our area with our roof restored and not blue tarp dangling where trees bisected the house.

Now we have snow, eight inches of it, effectively snowing us in. Electricity is still up, our internet provider is not, but we have hotspots on our phones and a jetpack, and we can charge them without the car, so we aren’t without. No Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or… Thankfully we have a handful of prized DVDs.

What have I learned? That it would have been nice if our new fireplace had been delivered and installed before the wind hit. That we should have a generator and maybe a whole house generator like our neighbors. Listening to theirs humming away caused waves of jealousy. That Calypso Swale, of my thriller Saving Calypso, was savvy enough to have a peddle-charger to light her cabin at night. Having done the research for that book that takes place just northwest of where we are snowed in, you’d think I would have learned something about living off the grid. Because, when the power is out, you are really, really off the grid.

I did learn that if your freezer is stuffed enough, and your refrigerator door lined with cold wine bottles, and you don’t open either, you might make it six days without any loss of food. We’ll find out when we eat the jambalaya I made just before the power went out.

I’m not a stranger to camping or staying on an island without power or using an outhouse. In fact, I relied on that experience in writing my soon to be released book Booth Island. But losing power, when you have it, is a weird thing. First, you assume that the power will magically come on in the morning, then it doesn’t, so you think it will by 6:00 pm because it always has. Then you get into the bringing in buckets of rainwater to flush mode and doing anything to ease through the day. Should I have been writing? Yes, but my computer was on when the power went out, and my battery was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

With a book coming out, losing six days is a big deal. I’m behind on everything, including promotions, ads, and, well, everything. But here’s a preview of Booth Island:

My clothed body bumps off granite rocks as it descends into the frigid depths of a Canadian lake. A swirl of red drifts on the bubbles escaping my lips. I watch each pocket of air grow smaller as it ascends toward the surface. A concussion rams my hip against a cement post. I glance to my left. Another body bobs next to mine. Recognizing it, I reach out…

I woke with a jolt knowing I was out of my depth again. I chose to believe that was the message of the dream. The nightmare, really, had haunted me at random intervals since my brother, Roy, drowned at the age of seventeen. I was fifteen at the time. We had been a team.

Winter here, wind calm, jetpack working. All is good. Twelve inches of snow predicted for tonight.

Not  sure how I feel about the first month of 2021 starting off with some strange happenings. I’m hoping it isn’t a forecast of things to come.

My latest book, Not As We Knew It, made its debut. My sister ordered a book immediately, read it, and reported a couple of typos. Told my editor/publisher and she fixed them. Then my daughter read the book and found more typos and other errors. (Both said they really liked the book despite the problems.) I also heard from other who said they loved the book and ignored the typos. All has been fixed and the new version available on Amazon.

Others have bought copies, and of course, I purchased copies to sell. My editor/publisher is sending me some of the fixed copies to replace the ones with errors. I’ve offered to replace the books of others who bought from the first batch. Only a few have taken me up on the offer.

I’ve been complaining about being unable to participate in any in-person events—and in this case, a good thing, until my new books arrive. However, I was invited to give a presentation on writing at the local Art Gallery, and told to bring some books. Once a month, different artist demonstrate new techniques, and this time it was me to talk about writing. A huge article was in the paper about my appearance along with a warning that everyone had to wear a mask and social distancing would be in place.

Frankly, I doubted many, if any, would come. To my surprise the room already had about a dozen people in it when I arrived; more sat in the next room to listen. (One of the members of the art association said 20 in all attended.) All wore their masks. Among those there were a teenage boy who wants to write mysteries, a young man who is writing a book set in World War II, two older men writing their autobiographies and another writing non-fiction. None of the women spoke up about what they were writing or wanted to write, but may have been there just to support me. However, they were the main book buyers. I also gave away copies of the book with the typos and errors to everyone’s delight.

I spoke for two hours mainly about writing in general and answered lots of questions. I had a great time, and I think those who came did too. Hope I can do it again somewhere in the not too far future.

And if anyone is interested in the re-edited Not As We Knew It, it is available on Amazon for Kindle and in paper. (I write this series as F. M. Meredith.)

One more thing, from February 1-5, I’m offering Kindle copies of Seldom Traveled for .99 cents.

Marilyn

All fiction writers would like our novels to be considered timeless, so when we incorporate historical events or trends into our stories, we often fret that although that makes a story seem more currently relevant, our books could be considered “dated” as the years pass.

However, with my Sam Westin mysteries, I have found that hasn’t been a problem. And that is, frankly, disturbing. My first book, Endangered, was published a decade ago. Its theme of the media and the public inflaming each other to the detriment of truth is still all too relevant, as we have all watched Twitter and Facebook and even television channels spread misinformation to capture the headlines and the public’s attention on a daily basis.

The second book, Bear Bait, originally published in 2012, features armed, racist, anti-government movements intent on perpetrating violent acts against government employees across the nation. Hmmm. Have we seen anything like that lately?

The third book, Undercurrents, includes two parallel stories, one in the Galapagos Islands and the other in Arizona, both with villains fueled by malice toward foreigners coming into their countries. That anti-foreigner attitude clearly hasn’t changed, as our recent leadership seemed hell bent on building a wall on our southern border and tried to prevent travelers from Muslim countries from entering the U.S.

I did manage to more or less escape the political arena for the fourth book, Backcountry, which deals with the effects of the murders of two women hikers. I say “more or less” because the story does include a lot of issues with guns in the wilderness. Sadly, murder is a recurring theme throughout human history.

Then, after a trip to the aforementioned wall along the U.S./Mexico border, I just had to write about the crimes, the environmental destruction, and the ruin of so many lives and livelihoods in that area in Borderland. And all those issues will no doubt affect Americans for decades to come.

I’ve also written the Run for Your Life trilogy (Race with Danger, Race to Truth, Race for Justice), about a champion teenage endurance racer who is living under an assumed identity because of the unsolved murders of her parents, who worked for a pharmaceutical company that supplies vaccines for a continuously evolving virus. Yeesh. I wrote those books between 2015 and 2018.

What does it all mean? That Americans, or maybe even humans, are incapable of evolving? Are we stuck in some sort of endless loop, doomed to forever repeat the cycles of hate and violence? Whether we’re discussing sports or religion or politics or wearing masks in a pandemic, we can’t seem to get beyond some sort of “us against them” attitude. It’s all a bit depressing. But it’s also good fodder for fiction.

And then, just yesterday, I watched a woman become vice president for the first time 100 years after women won the vote in this country. That milestone has been slow in coming, but it offers a spark of hope for the future. Which is also good fodder for fiction.

I had planned to write this month about traditional ways of promoting books. My second mystery, Murder in the Cemetery, was released last February by Cozy Cat Press, and I had already lined up book signings, talks, appearances at mystery writers’ events, a book-launch party, and an appearance as a panelist at a mystery readers’ conference. But then Covid 19 hit, and one-by-one everything was cancelled. It’s a difficult time for book sales when the normal avenues of promotion are no longer available.

My publisher, Patricia Rockwell, aware of the challenges facing authors during the pandemic, produced a YouTube video, shot by my friend Tom Lightfoot, where I prepare one of the recipes from my first book, Murder in the Museum. It’s been well-received. I also hired a publicist to promote my books on social media, recognizing how important it is and how inexperienced I am.

A free-lance writer, Laurel Wemett, has been an amazing supporter, announcing the publication of book two in last summer’s edition of the lovely regional magazine, Life in the Finger Lakes; then reviewing it for the 2020 November/December issue. Later she wrote a blurb for the e-version of the magazine on how the cover of book one placed #13 out of a field of 360 in a monthly cover contest sponsored by AllAuthor. She also sent the cooking video to Mike Murphy who interviewed me in his weekly column, “Eat, Drink and Be Murphy”, about the marrying of my books with cooking for the Daily Messenger and Wayne Post print and online newspapers.

I learned about AllAuthor from Patricia, who has been instrumental in encouraging all of us authors affiliated with Cozy Cat to promote in non-traditional ways. With her encouragement, I applied and was accepted as a member of the Crime Writers Association of the UK, a lofty organization with a presence in the US.

Finally, I participated in writing one of 24 chapters for the newly released book, A Map for Murder. It was lots of fun, and I think readers will enjoy the zany, fun-filled adventure three young women have in solving the murder. We authors recently were filmed talking about the book that you can view on YouTube.

All of the above has helped call attention to and generate very respectable sales for my books, and I’m grateful for the help and encouragement I’ve received. To those of you who read my monthly blog and have sent messages of support, I thank you.

So yes, 2020 turned out to be different than I thought it would, but in times of Covid and new book releases, it turned out much better than I ever expected. Hopefully this year will be less surreal, and we’ll be able to resume a semblance of normalcy in our lives.