Fiction or Fact: That Is the Question by Karen Shughart

If you’ve read any of the books in my Edmund DeCleryk Cozy mystery series, by now you will have noticed that with each murder there’s a historical back story that gives clues as to why the crime occurred.

When I conceived the series I decided to write about what I knew, which meant describing the beauty where we live up here on the southern shore of Lake Ontario: the beaches; fruit orchards; quaint homes and cottages, and the stunning weather that changes with each season. There’s also our close knit and friendly community and a rich tradition of history.

Across the lake lies Canada and in the middle of it, where the depths can reach 800 feet, shipwrecks occurred starting long before the Revolutionary War. The British invaded our village and burned most of it down during the War of 1812, and an active and committed abolitionist movement and the Underground Railroad helped to change the course of history. In the 1920s, rumrunners from Main Duck Island in Prince Edward, Ontario piloted across the lake to Chimney Bluffs-drumlins created by icebergs with a broad beach below-to supply the speakeasies here with booze. During World War II, several prisoner-of-war camps housed German soldiers, one of which has been converted to a state park near our home.

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

I’ve been asked numerous times, at books talks and signings, about the inclusion of history into my books and the incidents are real. While the historical events are based on actual occurrences, I remind my readers that I write fiction, so history is merely a way to enhance the plot. Mostly, the characters are fictional and the details surrounding the events are figments of my imagination, although I do occasionally slip a real character into the mix.

In book one, King George, III had a minor role; in book two, I name-drop Morgan Lewis, the fourth governor of New York and quartermaster general during the War of 1812, whose father was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. In Murder at Freedom Hill, I mention Abe Lincoln  once or twice along with Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony, but only to provide context to the back story.

I just started writing book four in the series, Murder at Chimney Bluffs. It’s early days, so at this point I have no idea who my historical celebrity will be, but whoever it is will have either supported Prohibition or opposed it, or be one of those mysterious crime bosses who organized the trips back and forth across the lake. I’ll figure it out as I move forward.

What I tell my readers is that what I love about writing fiction is that I can pretty much do anything I want with the plot, name dropping and historical events notwithstanding.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Guest Blogger ~ Angela Greenman

How Books Saved My Life

By most odds, I shouldn’t have been able to achieve much, let alone survive. My childhood was a battlefield that tried to destroy me. There were many enemies—mental illness, domestic violence, and poverty. From childhood into my teens in Chicago, we were so poor that my mother, younger brother and I were homeless for a while. And when we did finally find an apartment, I was relentlessly persecuted by my fears of what life held for me. I lived each moment fearful if we’d be able to pay the rent, or if we’d have milk to drink the next day.

Thank goodness for libraries! I believe books saved my life. They gave me hope. They shared with me stories of other peoples’ lives and how they overcame adversity. I started to believe maybe I had a chance to live differently. I’d stay up all night getting lost in my reading. I read a range of books by such authors as Phyllis Whitney, Agatha Christie, Gertrude Chandler Warner, and Louisa May Alcott.

Action and sci-fi movies, like books, transported me into new places—and I so much wanted to be anywhere other than where I was. I fantasized a lot about being a female James Bond, a strong woman who outwits the enemy and travels the world.

As damaged as my psyche was, instead of letting my childhood be a negative burden, I clung to the inspiring stories in the books that got me through my childhood and teens, and put the pedal-to-the-metal with a single-minded positive focus. I had an intense career where I was able to break through the glass ceiling, engage in discussions on national and international issues, and travel around the world.

One of the great aspects about being an author is that you can share your life’s exciting adventures with readers. In my international thriller, The Child Riddler, my main character, Zoe, is a globe-trotting operative, who travels to some of the fascinating countries I’ve visited in my career. And, I am able to create a character from my fantasy. Like the readers, I get to go on that thrilling ride of discovering what it means to be a female James Bond.

But mostly as a writer, I want to celebrate strong women, because I know how hard it is to be one. I experienced how my mother suffered raising us as a single-parent on her lower wages and all that she went through.

I write too in hopes that other women can take heart from my story and know that they are strong.

THE CHILD RIDDLER

Despite the angry scars she carries from her childhood training, Zoe Lorel has reached a good place in her life. She has her dream job as an elite operative in an international spy agency and found her true love. Her world is mostly perfect—until she is sent to abduct a nine-year-old girl. The girl is the only one who knows the riddle that holds the code to unleash the most lethal weapon on earth—the first ever “invisibility” nanoweapon, a cloaking spider bot.

Zoe’s agency is not the only one after the child. China developed the cloaking bot and will stop at nothing to keep its code secret. While China rapidly hones in on Zoe, her threats grow. Enemies in Austria and Bulgaria reveal the invisibility weapon’s existence to underground arms dealers—now every government and terrorist organization in the world want the nanobot.

From Malta to the Italian Alps to England, Zoe races to save not only the child she has grown to care about, but also herself. Her drug addiction is threatening her engagement to the one person who brings her happiness, yet she needs the agency prescribed pills. They transform her into the icy killer she must be to survive. Can she still be ruthless without the chemicals that suppress her emotions?

Book buy links:
https://www.amazon.com/Child-Riddler-Angela-Greenman/dp/1642473650/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-child-riddler-angela-greenman/1139775262?ean=9781642473650

Angela Greenman is an internationally recognized communications professional. She has been an expert and lecturer with the International Atomic Energy Agency for over a decade, a spokesperson for the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and a press officer for the Chicago Commission on Human Relations, the City’s civil rights department. After traveling to twenty-one countries for work and pleasure, Angela decided to seriously pursue her love of writing. She is a member of the International Thriller Writer’s Debut Authors program.

Links to connect with Angela:
Website: https://www.angelagreenman.com/
https://www.facebook.com/people/Angela-Greenman-Author/100071879436485/
https://twitter.com/AngelaGreenman
https://www.instagram.com/angelsprism/

Happy Holidays!

I hope everyone who reads this blog, writes for this blog, and guests on this blog has had a wonderful year reading all the unique and interesting posts. I know I enjoy each post for different reasons. Some are about how to write a mystery, some are about marketing, and some are about how the writer came up with the story, premise, characters. Some are vignettes about a writer’s life. There is always something interesting to learn from a post at Ladies of Mystery.

Today, as I write this post, I am starting a read through and edit pass before book 10 in the Gabriel Hawke series heads out to my critique partners. By the time you read this, the manuscript will be in the hands of my CPs and I will be fleshing out the next Spotted Pony Casino book.

Even with the holidays, I still have books in my head that want to get out. I have slowed down the last few months which has driven my on time, schedule-to-keep-self crazy! This book that is just now being read by critique partners was (on my white board) to be published by now. Life got in the way and while my disciplined self is kicking my backside for not getting it done on time, my family self is saying, it’s okay. Things happen and you begin to see that hanging out with friends and family are more important than getting that next book out on time.

And that is why, I backed off on my goals for 2023. Next year I have two wonderful trips planned. One with family and one with friends. They will take away a month and a half of writing time. And I plan to do more in-person events, which when you live as far away from where most in-person events happen, I have to add 2 extra days for travel.

I’m taking a marketing class while getting ready for company for Christmas and helping my daughter with a wedding 2 days after Christmas. Yes, life is always interesting!

Have a wonderful Holiday Season and a Healthy Happy New Year! See you in 2023!

Silver Linings and Simple Pleasures


by Janis Patterson


Update – we still don’t have our new refrigerator despite two unkept promises of delivery dates (thank you, Lowe’s!) and someone finally had the decency to tell us that it wasn’t even in the country yet (thank you, GE!). And yes, I’m being very sarcastic, but my true thoughts on both these entities are not fit for public pixilation. I’ve quit calling Lowe’s for updates and go over to the store to trap the salesman and occasionally his manager for an eye-to-eye confrontation. This last time I was promised (which means nothing, as every failed delivery date was a promise) that I would have my white, basic French door refrigerator by Christmas. (This was after he was telling me the not heartening news that another special order refrigerator had taken 18 months to be delivered.) I looked him square in the eye and asked if he meant Christmas, 2022. It was not encouraging that he said nothing.


Sad thing is, I could have had a bright pink refrigerator within a week of ordering. (Wrong color, wrong size, wrong configuration, waaaay wrong price, though.) I still don’t understand why a basic white refrigerator has to be a special order!


On to other news. Everything seems to have gone wonky this fall – except for our glorious trip to Egypt (and my trip diary is available to read for free on my website). Some backstory on the most painful problem – during his last Iraqi deployment several years ago The Husband injured his left shoulder. It healed pretty much, though it has given him some trouble from time to time, but while in Egypt he had the bird-brained idea to go down in the Bent Pyramid – perhaps the hairiest and most dangerous pyramid available to tourists. Why he went, I don’t know, as he has done it before.

Well, sometime in the tour he reinjured that same shoulder and it has been giving him terrible pain ever since. We’ve been to a doc-in-the-box, our personal physician, an orthopedic specialist, several multi-week rounds of physical therapy, an X-Ray and an MRI… and his shoulder is getting better, but very little and very slowly. (I think I told you that I told him if he ever even mentioned going down in that pyramid again I would sit on him until he gave up the idea or passed out from suffocation!)


However, I have always believed that dark clouds have silver linings. With his shoulder The Husband cannot drive, so guess who gets to be his chauffeur – driving him to his various appointments, waiting while he takes care of things and then taking him home? Right… However, this has been an unexpected blessing in two big ways. If there is grocery shopping needed, we stop at a conveniently located Aldi’s on the way back – and he has to give some input into what we eat for the next few days. (And often he just looks around and suggests we go out, which I like…)

Perhaps the best benefit, though, is that while I’m waiting I read. There’s not enough time involved for me to be expected to take my computer and write, so I just sit and read, both of which for me are rare luxuries. I’ve always loved to read – hey, I live in a house with three dedicated libraries, so that’s a given – but between writing and all its attendant duties of rewriting, publishing, publicity, et al, care of extended family and now The Husband, housework, etc., etc., etc., there has been precious little time for just pleasure reading. Thank goodness for reading apps on my phone!


Which brings me to the important part of this little screed – never underestimate how important it is for writers to read. We become so bogged down in our own work, making sure that our characters and situations are real, that action is always logical for the world we have created, even keeping track of hair and eye color and the time of day, that our word choices and grammar are acceptable, sometimes we forget the simple, overwhelming magic of the printed word. By reading the work of others we learn. Sometimes their work is incredible, opening doors and windows into realms we have never known, or may have once known but time and other things have obscured. Sometimes their work is so bad that it is a salutary lesson in what not to do. And sometimes it is so incredibly bad that it isn’t worth my time to read more than a few pages – but there are still lessons in those few awful pages.


I do sincerely hope that The Husband will soon recover fully and go back to having at least a portion of his own life. On the other hand, it would be a lie for me to say that there has not been at least a sliver of silver lining in my time spent in various waiting rooms. I got to read for pleasure without feeling guilty that I’m taking time away from working and other responsibilities, and that’s always good.

Gifts of the Season

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.” That’s what Jo March says in the opening paragraph of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women.

Years ago, when we’d ask Dad what he wanted for Christmas, he’d always say, “A happy family.” It became the gentle, wry family joke. One year, while prowling around a secondhand bookstore, my brother found a book called The Happy Family. He bought it, wrapped it up and put it under the tree. Dad loved it. Now that Dad is gone, I’d give the world to hear him say it again. But I have the gift of that memory, and many others.

I start thinking about presents even before I do my after-Thanksgiving ritual of decorating my house and tree for Christmas. I am of an age where I don’t need more stuff. In fact, I’m really trying to get rid of stuff. So are most of the people on my list.

But still. It’s nice to have something under the tree (besides Lottie, AKA Mama Kitty). Chocolate, for example. Make mine dark.

If I’m really ambitious and I start early enough, I’ll sew. This is not one of those years.

When giving gifts, I’d like it to be something the recipient will use. Or eat. A pound of coffee. One doesn’t actually eat coffee, though I know java junkies who would happily chew the grounds to get a caffeine fix. That said, French roast is definitely a plus during the holidays.

Back to gifts that can be consumed. I have a terrific recipe for cranberry chutney, and I’ve been known to make lemon curd and apple butter. Baking is good. My holiday tradition is pumpkin bread, with fresh pumpkin puree made from my Halloween pumpkins. I’ve also been known to make biscotti, scones and big chewy ginger cookies. In fact, this year I have a special request for those cookies.

What about me, as the gift recipient? As noted above, I don’t need more stuff. I’m getting rid of stuff. But there are gifts I’m grateful for. A character in the movie Miracle on 34th Street calls them “those lovely intangibles,” and further says that they are the only things that matter.

Start with the gift of good health. That’s a big one. The past three years have been an obstacle course. Thank goodness for Covid vaccines and boosters. And flu shots. If you don’t think influenza is a big deal, I refer you to John Barry’s stunning and comprehensive look at the flu epidemic of 1918-1919. It’s called The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Plague in History. The book should be on everyone’s reading list.

I made it through 2020 wearing masks, limiting contact with people and sanitizing my hands like crazy. In 2021 had knee replacements. Both knees at once. That was an adventure. The medical adventure for 2022 was cataract surgery on both eyes. For 2023 and beyond, the best gift of all would be not to have any repair jobs on any more body parts. And it would be really great if we could finally get out of this Covid labyrinth.

And the gift of good health for other people. I have family and friends who were diagnosed with various types of cancer and/or had surgeries, who have spent the past year-plus dealing with the treatment of same and the aftermaths of that treatment. Then there’s my elderly mother, who had a long recovery from a fall.

The gift of warm and dry, with a roof over my head. As I write this in early December, it’s unseasonably cold for the San Francisco Bay Area. I’m back in my office running an electric space heater to keep warm. At least I am inside and comfortable, even if my fingers sometimes stiffen up.

And importantly, for a writer, I am grateful for the gift of time to write, time to go off into my own little fictional world and create plots, characters and settings. I spent so many years working at full-time jobs and shoehorning the writing into early mornings and weekends that it is a gift to be able to sit down at my computer and spend the whole day at my avocation.

And the time to enjoy the season, queuing up my Christmas movies and listening to my Christmas CDs.

How about you? What are the gifts of the season for you and yours?