By Sally Carpenter

 I recently read a blog post by a writer in his 70s who said he’s never seen a dead body. He’d never been to a funeral?

It could be the writer was referring to murder victims. But when I lived in the Midwest, viewing the deceased was a way of life.

Commemorating the dead in my rural hometown consisted of three parts: the viewing (called a “wake” in some circles), the funeral service and the graveside committal. The first two parts took place at a funeral home where the funeral director handled all the scheduling and arrangements. Clergy were asked to lead the services, but that was the extent of their participation or input.

 At the viewing, the embalmed body was placed in an open casket, flowers were set out and the public dropped by to sign the guest book, greet the family, and look at the deceased who bore little resemblance to the person in life. I think when I was a kid my mother took me to some viewings of people she know. I thought it was odd to stare at a dead person. Why not visit the person when they were alive and you could talk to them? I also didn’t like how funeral homes looked, too artificial and fussy. Not the place where I’d want to spend my last earthly moments.

At the brief funeral service, an organist played syrupy music and a minister gave a short talk. While the guests were still inside, the funeral home affixed little flags to the hoods of their cars to mark them as part of the processional. With the hearse carrying the casket and the limo with the family members leading the way, a long line of vehicles moved at a snail’s pace to the burial site. Since funeral processions had the right of way, many times I had to sit in traffic while an endless stream of these cars passed through an intersection.

 The committal service was even shorter, since people usually stood by the gravesite (except at my mother’s funeral, we sat in padded folding chairs beneath a canopy). Unlike what you see on TV/movies, the casket was never lowered into the ground and nobody threw dirt or flowers into the grave. The actuall internment took place after friends and family had left. Weeks or months later the gravestone was finally put in place.

 For one of my uncles, the internment consisted of his widow showing up at the family plot on her own, and placing his urn of ashes into a pre-dug hole. Other family members, including myself, happened to be there at the time (must have been around Memorial Day for our annual visit to the graves of mom’s parents).

 At my dad’s funeral service, my brother brought his young children. Even though they were not close to grandpa, they became hysterical when they saw the corpse and their mother took them out of the room for the service. I think their reaction was not grief over the loss but that their young minds had trouble processing a human death.

 Now I live on the West Coast and funerals seem to be done differently here. I’ve never seen a funeral processional, although during the day I’m at my day job. But with the heavy congestion on local streets, a long, slow-paced procession would not be practical.

Religious funerals are now taking place in churches rather than in funeral homes. I’ve attended two funerals at different churches. For me, the services more meaningful and longer and included congregational singing.

 “Home made” memorial services without the body present are replacing the traditional funeral. Family and friends, not processional morticians, plan and lead these informal services set in a home or a favorite bar or restaurant. Acquaintances share stories of the deceased and make toasts in their honor.

 I’ve attended two memorial services set in different community theaters where the deceased was an active participant. One of these funerals screened a video montage of the decease’ stage roles. At the other service, the deceased’s collection of Beanie Babies was set on the stage. Afterwards those present were invited to take a toy home as a memento (the cat I picked sits near my computer). And on my way into the building, I was asked to say a few words during the service. I’m not good at impromptu speaking, but I managed to sound intelligent and even (unintentionally) coax some laughter from the audience.

 How are funerals conducted in your town? What do you think is the best way to “send off” a loved one?

By Sally Carpenter

I recently “gave birth” to a beautiful, 15-ounce cozy that I christened “The Quirky Quiz Show Caper.” Gestation was a bit over nine months, as I began in earnest last spring. Labor pains were intense, and the book nearly miscarried.

First thing to change was the title. Following a story arc that began two books ago in the series, the original title was to be “The Bloody Black Tie Benefit Caper.” My protagonist, former teen idol Sandy Fairfax, was to perform at a benefit concert to help fund his father’s orchestra.

However, after considering the sales of the previous books, I needed a “snappier” title to catch readers’ interest. Most cozy fans have never been to an expensive fundraiser (neither have I, even though I live in an area where $150 a plate benefits are common) and might not find it an captivating topic.

Also, a one-night gala event was not enough to sustain a 200-plus-page book. I needed more action to flesh out the story.

So I gave Sandy a show biz job. In each book I put him in a different venue to maintain variety. So far in the series he’d performed at a Beatles fan convention, in a sitcom and on a cruise ship. Since he was singing at the fundraiser, I didn’t want a second concert.

What else do teen idols/actors do? They appear on game shows.

Sandy would be perfect on “Hollywood Squares” where he could crack jokes and express his charming personality. However, to avoid copyright issues I created my own game show, “Raise The Stakes.” That would give Sandy something to do for several days. And when he discovered the murder victim had appeared on the same show . . .

I’m a plotter and I usually have a scene-by-scene outline set before I start writing. This time I just dove in and began writing.

Big mistake. By page 50 I was stuck.

The story began with Sandy going to his father’s office and finding the body. Right away I had problems. How could the killer sneak in and out of an office suite and past the receptionist without being seen? The office was in high-rise so people in the hallways and a lobby desk clerk would have spotted the murderer as well.

My suspect pool was limited to people who worked in the orchestra or were on the board trustees. Try as I might, I just couldn’t picture dedicated musicians as killers.

While writing about a meeting between Sandy and his father, who share a rocky relationship, the scene had zero energy. I knew the story wasn’t working. I found the office setting boring and the plot too shaky.

I told my publisher I wanted to drop this novel and start a new series that I’d been considering. She encouraged me to finish the book (bless you, Patricia).

So I threw out what I had and started over.

I kept the scene that opened chapter two: Sandy is in an old art deco theater, talking with his estranged brother who is the house organist. They are on stage while the brother is playing the organ. Aha! Now that’s interesting. I love old theaters and especially those terrific organs.

I shifted the scene of the crime from the office complex to theater. And Sandy’s brother, not his father, would be framed for the crime. That would force the two feuding brothers to work together.

With this new approach, I finally wrote the plot outline. I won’t give more spoilers, but once I restructured the premise the rest of the story fell in place easily. By the time I wrote “the end,” I was pleased with the result.

Some books take more nurturing and prenatal care than others.