OH, CHRISTMAS TREE

Hello, Ladies ~

I hope everyone has their decorations in place, their presents wrapped, and their Christmas dinners planned.

My nine-foot decorated Christmas tree brings me so much joy that I’m tempted to leave it up until Valentine’s Day. Decorating my tree is my favorite part of the holiday. I love looking at each ornament, remembering the origin of every Santa, reindeer, or angel. Of course, I have a few non-traditional ornaments. There’s a unique half-avocado, a stack of books, and my oldest son’s clay handprint from his third-grade art project.

A few years ago, Norman and his family joined us for Thanksgiving, and the grandkids were excited to decorate my tree. It was fun to tell them stories behind some of the ornaments. And grandpa and I enjoyed watching them take turns hiding the dill pickle from each other.

This year, they spent the holiday with us again, and we had the tree ready for decorating. But time changes things, and our now 15 ½-year-old granddaughter, Sloan, preferred watching from the couch. 13-year-old Carter was on a mission to add as many decorations to his area of the tree as quickly as possible. Kendra and Norman handle the placement of ornaments on the tree’s higher branches.

At the end of a lovely visit, the Henson’s headed home, and I put the finishing touches on my decorations. Noticing a glass ball precariously hanging on another ornament, I moved it to a safer place on the tree.

“I bet you can’t leave the tree decorated the way it is this year,” my husband, Randy, said.

“Of course I can,” I replied and resisted moving some of the ornaments Carter had clustered together.

“You’re sure?” Randy tilted his head. “I know how you like certain ornaments in the front and hanging others together for a theme.”

“I think the tree looks beautiful just the way it is.” I smiled and walked away before I could move a glass snowman.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve stopped and looked at the ornaments on my tree. And though I haven’t moved any, Randy was right, I have always placed special decorations toward the front of my fake noble. But I also loved the way Norman, Kendra, and Carter decorated my tree. Sometimes, change is good and helps us see things in a different light.

I’m sure, like me, most of you have discovered that the holiday season’s festivities have made it hard to work on writing projects. But I still try to carve out an hour each day to write. Currently, I’m working on “Fatal Falls,” the 6th book in my Stoneybrook Mystery Series. In this series, I have recurring characters, think “Virgin River,” and found myself wondering what might happen with the story if I placed the characters in uncomfortable scenarios.

Harley Harper, my heroine, finds herself struggling to connect with her partner, Sheriff Wyatt Stone, since he’s working three different cases. She’s being ghosted by her bestie, Busy, and is thrown into a situation that requires her to rely on Morgan Grey, who is interested in being more than friends. Wyatt’s dedication to his job is challenged when he and his deputies can’t catch a break in their hunt for a serial killer. The sheriff’s department is also spread thin as they race to rescue a kidnapped woman and try to find the person responsible for killing a Stoneybrook resident.

I also decided that some of my supporting characters should have interesting story arcs in this book, so I’m moving them from the back of the Christmas tree to front and center. Can Derrick locate the Stone family’s missing gold? Is Busy keeping something from Harley? Who in the sheriff’s department ends up taking a bullet for a colleague? Which character steps up to bring a serial killer to justice?

“Lost in Loreto” is the 5th book in my Mexico Mayhem series, and I decided, once again, to approach character creation from a different perspective. All three main characters, heroine Scarlett, hero Javier, and villain Arlo, have serious anger issues from the beginning. So far, their individual challenges are creating an interesting story. Can Scarlett learn to work with Javier, who thinks he’s always right? Can Javier work with his brother-in-law, Dante, considering that both Dante and his father want Javier to pay for abandoning Gabriella? Can Arlo overcome his fiery temper and manage to woo his beautiful captive, Gabriella, into a willing relationship with him?

My beautiful tree watches over me as I write each morning. And though it’s the most wonderful time of year, it’s also a very busy time of year, so who has time to redecorate their tree? I love that embracing a different decorating scheme for my tree has also encouraged me to change my approach to my character’s stories and move them around my “story tree.”

Merry Christmas, Ladies. I hope you all have a lovely and blessed holiday!

Making a List

In these, the last few days before Christmas, I’m struggling. Not to finish the shopping, baking, wrapping and decorating. Those things will get done as they do every year. I hope.

I typically start panicking two weeks before Christmas. How will I get it all done? What gifts do I still need buy? I don’t know what to get anyone in my family except maybe my granddaughter and two-year-old grandson. (One gives me a list, and the other one is just fun to buy for!) When will I have time to wrap the gifts, bake cookies, and make the candy my kids like? I’m normally making lists like Santa on speed.

I’m not sure why, maybe it’s because I’ve been so busy with book stuff, but this year I haven’t had time to worry about Christmas. I’ve been on autopilot when it comes to Christmas. But Christmas is getting done anyway. Interesting.

In the last six weeks I’ve published two books, had a book signing at a bookstore and I’ve taken my books to three Christmas bazaars. Yesterday I met with a book club whose members had read my three Thrillers and wanted me to sign them. I’ve also spent many hours on social media trying to get word out about my books.

So, here is my struggle. While I’m busy trying to market my books and get ready for Christmas, I’ve had a terrible time getting any writing done. Not because I have no time to write, because even with all the craziness I have had time. Not as much as I normally do, but I can grab an hour here and there.

My writing schedule is normally to get up in the morning, grab a cup of coffee and write for two hours before I do anything else. There are days when that schedule doesn’t work. Like on Mondays when I have the two-year-old, or I have an early appointment, but I try to save those hours to write.

For some reason, it hasn’t been working for me in the last few weeks. And when I have made myself sit down and write it isn’t going well. I’ve started the fourth book in my series six times.  Every time I think I have it nailed down, I read it back and it isn’t working.

I can’t get my mind back in the game. Is this because my mind is revolving around all of the things that I need to do like a hamster on a wheel? Will I be able to calm down and write when the holidays are over? I sure hope so because now I’m way behind schedule.

And then, as if I didn’t have enough to think about, the universe dropped an idea for a Christmas mystery in my lap. I’ve always wanted to write a Christmas mystery. It’s all there: the main characters, the villain, the detective and even the ending. I want to stop writing the next book in the series and write this one instead! I’ve jotted down notes and hope to find time to write this book in 2026 also.

I’d love to hear what you all do when life is crazy, and your muse is trifling with you. Do you whip it into shape or go with the flow? Any advice you’d like to send my way would be greatly appreciated.

Meantime, I’m over here baking, buying gifts and wrapping and longing for the day after Christmas when things will go back to my kind of normal routine and I’ll hopefully be able to figure out the opening of my new book.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and may we all be productive in the new year!

The quizzing continues…

Try your hand at these. Scroll down for the answers.

#1: What is the largest theft in Canadian history?

A. The “Canadian Maple Syrup Heist” in 2011-2012
B. The “Pearson Airport Gold Heist” in 2023
C. The “Costco Cigarette Heist”in 2004

#2: Which Canadian city was once known as the bank robbery capital of North America?

A. Toronto (or T-Dot as the cool kids say)
B. Vancouver (or Raincity as the locals call it)
C. Montreal (the City of Saints, unofficially of course)

#3: Which Canadian criminal was known as the Flying Bandit?

A. Ken Leishman, convicted gold robber
B. Gilbert Galvan Jr., convicted bank robber
C. Johnson Aziga, convicted murderer

#4: Who is Canada’s most infamous female bank robber?

A. Machine Gun Molly (died after being shot by police)
B. The Church Lady Bandit (convicted of robbing 11 banks)
C. Ma Barker (matriarch of a bank robbing family)

Question #1: The answer is A. Over several months in 2011 & 2012, thieves stole nearly 3,000 tonnes of maple syrup from a storage facility in Quebec (value of about $30 million in 2024). The theft was featured in the Netflix documentary series Dirty Money  in 2018 (Season 1, Episode 5).

Question #2: The answer is C. From the 1950s to the 1970s, Montreal was the bank robbery capital of North America, with more bank robberies per year than even New York and Los Angeles. This was largely due to the light sentences handed down by Quebec courts—5 years in prison for convicted thieves compared to the 20 years in prison normally handed down by American courts.

Question #3: The answer is A & B. Canada had two Flying Bandits! The first was Kenny Leishman who masterminded the biggest gold heist in Canadian history—until the Pearson Airport Heist in 2023. He earned the nickname The Flying Bandit after he escaped from prison, stole a plane, and flew to the US where he was arrested. The second was Gilbert Galvan Jr., an American who escaped from a Michigan jail and fled to Canada where he robbed 59 banks and jewelry stores.  He was dubbed The Flying Bandit for his habit of flying from city to city to rob banks. He robbed banks in every Canadian province except PEI and Newfoundland. 

Johnson Aziga is the first person to be charged and convicted of first-degree murder in Canada for spreading HIV, after two women he had infected without their knowledge died.

Question #4: The answer is A. Monica Proietti, better known as Machine Gun Molly, was a Canadian bank robber from Montreal. She was suspected of masterminding at least 20 bank robberies during her short life. On September 19, 1967, she robbed a Montreal credit union with two accomplices. That set off a high-speed chase that ended with her being shot and killed by police. It’s been said that “If Al Capone had had a daughter, he would have wanted her to be Monique Proietti.”

cover of donalee Moulton's book Bind

Taking Stock of Taking Stock

By Margaret Lucke

One reason that English is so delightful, and so befuddling to people who are trying to learn it as a second or third language, is that the same word or phrase can mean so many different things. For example, take stock of some of the ways to take stock.

To a cowboy, stock is the herd of animals being raised on a ranch or farm. In the 1870s and 1880s taking stock meant a long dusty journey driving cattle from Texas to Kansas.

A shopkeeper’s stock is the goods on hand that are being offered for sale. Taking stock involves counting all of the items in the inventory.

A photographer who takes stock is shooting photos that others can use in ads, as book covers, as illustrations, and so on. Agencies handle the business end of licensing the rights. You can browse through millions stock photos on the Internet.

A cook thinks of stock as a rich broth made from bones and trimmings of meat and vegetables. Stock serves as the basis for soups, risottos, paellas, and many other delicious recipes. Take stock, put it on the stove, and get set to prepare a wonderful meal.

For an investor or a businessperson, stock is an ownership share, or many shares, of a publicly traded company. A corporate executive may take stock as part of a compensation package, hoping the value of the shares will go up.

When my husband and I owned a printing business, stock had to do with the paper required for a job. We would, for instance, take card stock for posters or 20-pound stock (about the lightest weight that would go smoothly through our press) for flyers.

To a gardener or a florist, stock is a flower of the species Matthiola incana, with a spicy scent and showy white, pink, or purple blooms. Take stock, and you have a beautiful addition to a garden or a bouquet.

When a genealogist or archeologist talks about stock, they are referring to an individual’s or group’s ancestral background, as in “they came from European stock” or “their forebears were of Asian stock.”

A firearms enthusiast knows that the stock is the part of a long gun, like rifle or shotgun, that is placed against the shoulder to hold the firearm steady when it is fired.

To a writer or reader, stock is something standard or conventional or unimaginative, such as a stock character or a stock phrase.

Stock can also refer to the opinion or regard with which something is assessed, as in “I take little stock in what that person claims” or “the candidate’s stock with voters is high.”

And around this time, as the year winds down, a lot of us are taking stock – by which we mean we’re reflecting on the events of the past twelve months, assessing our goals and achievements, and making our plans for 2026. We’re looking at where we are, how got here, and where we want to go.

I hope that your taking-stock process goes well, whatever that phrase means to you, and I wish abundant joy in this holiday season.

* * * * *

If your plans for 2026 include making progress on your novel, you might be interested in the class I’ll be teaching this winter for University of California, Berkeley Extension: “Writing Genre Fiction: Science Fiction, Mystery, Romance and More.” 10 Thursday evenings, January 22–April 2, with February 26 off so we can attend the Left Coast Crime convention in San Francisco. Info about the class is here.

Merry Christmas!

by Janis Patterson


Maybe that’s not a politically correct greeting, but right now I don’t really care. I am wishing each of you the very best and most joyous thing I can think of. After a very hard year almost exactly halved between a crushing load of work and several unexpected, life-threatening surgeries (where some of my nurses said I died on the table for at least a minute, but my records don’t reflect it – who knows) and an unexpectedly long and difficult recovery (which isn’t over yet) I kind of think I have the right to say what I want. Which I usually do anyway, but let’s pretend it’s because of the season.


Anyway, I usually try to talk about things writing-related, but today I am too imbued with the spirit of the season and just plain happiness so I’m going to talk about other things, like our trip to Germany which ended just at the beginning of the week. This was a week of touring small Southern Bavarian cities with charming Christmas markets – a small (6 people) tour run by a friend which we have taken several times during the years. This particular tour was also a special ‘thank you for not staying dead’ present from my wonderful husband who has spent the last few months doing precious little except taking great care of me since the surgeries.


Can I make a confession? I have been feeling pretty good, but did not realize I was really too weak to make this trip properly. I spent a lot of time sitting on the sidelines instead of touring, but in a way that’s all right. We had taken this trip before and so had seen what most of the group was seeing for the first time. Perforce I was seeing things from a different viewpoint, and it truly was a wonderful experience. I actually saw the spirit of Germany as well as the holiday trappings. And I was impressed.


Germany is an incredibly clean country. We drove through big cities, small cities, tiny villages and down narrow country lanes. There were no wandering plastic bags (and yes, they do use them) or trash. Leaves were neatly raked. There was some painted graffiti in the big cities, but none elsewhere. There were no junked or abandoned vehicles to mar the landscape. I saw no evidence of vandalism anywhere. Everything was neat, tidy, well painted and on the whole charming. It was very refreshing.


The people were delightful, polite and caring. When it was noticed that I had some problem with mobility there were more offers of arms and chairs and help than I could count. One man even offered to carry me over a stretch of rough ground – which, considering my bulk, was most of unwise of him! I did allow him to give me the support of his arm over the uneven ground. While the tour group was exploring a market, I went to the grocery store to buy some of my favorite sweetener to bring home. The door was unexpectedly heavy and I was struggling with it when a man – a villager – dashed across the road to open it for me. He was a local and not associated with the tourist industry at all. Just a nice man. I don’t speak German and he didn’t speak English, so we just smiled a lot, said thanks in our own languages, then he tipped his hat, went back across the street and on with his own business. A fleeting but lovely encounter.


Not speaking the language of the country can have some interesting consequences. One night the group decided to go to a special restaurant, one that was just beyond my comfortable walking distance. Most of the group walked, but three of us decided to splurge on a cab. (Wise!) Getting there was okay, but when it came to coming home we got a cab driver who spoke no English and none of us spoke German. My husband had the presence of mind to pick up a hotel brochure, so we could show him where we wanted to go. The driver nodded happily … and then took off in the wrong direction. I immediately tried other languages, but he understood none of them. (And my command of most of them is not THAT bad.) He tried a couple of languages, none of which I even knew what were. To make things worse, the other lady in the party was melting down, convinced that he was carrying us away to a dark and unseen future. Finally in pure desperation I tried my abysmal Arabic and the cabbie’s face lit up as he replied in the same tongue. Not that things were easy then. He spoke the Syrian dialect, and I can barely mangle the Egyptian version, but it was good enough to get us turned around and on the right road home. We chatted (sort of – as best we could) all the way back and everything ended happily.


If there is one thing I admire about Germany it is their enthusiasm for Christmas. Even in the tiniest village there are banners and tinsel strung along the streets. The cities are pure extravaganzas of Christmas cheer. In hotels and shops and even humble groceries there are signs, plaques and sculptures proclaiming “Frohe Weihnachten” (Merry Christmas). You hear it from people, too, whether you know them or not. I frankly gave up trying to pronounce it (German and I really do not get along!) and just replied Merry Christmas and it was fine.


Perhaps I have a warped view, or am just a Christmas junkie, or perhaps it is just because we were in tourist areas and treated with kid gloves, but it was indeed a magical time. I missed a lot of our tour because of my infirmities, but I also gained a fresh insight into a wonderful land and people.


And that is the end of my peroration on my year, my trip and my fascination with Christmas. I promise I’ll get back to writing topics in January, but in sharing this with you I get to relive it, and I’m selfish enough to find that wonderful. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and a wonderfully Happy New Year!