The End of a Newsletter

~ susanoleksiw ~ 6 Comments

I’ve been a member of the Authors Guild for several years, but didn’t host my website there until SquareSpace told me I couldn’t have a newsletter without a certain kind of email, which I didn’t know how to create. Rather than learn what was probably a pretty easy task, I decided to move my website to the Guild. Once there I could tap into their newsletter function.

After barely using it for the last few years, I received a notice that the Guild has decided to drop the newsletter function from its website citing both cost and logistics. I can hardly blame them. I’m probably part of the logistics issue, since almost every quarter I had trouble figuring out how to get the newsletter out there, into cyberspace. Hector sent me clear instructions, which became less clear as time passed between newsletters until, after a while, they ceased to make any sense at all.

I won’t miss the newsletter function, and I’m pretty sure the few people who asked to get the modest publication from me won’t miss it either. Let me be the first to say it: My newsletters weren’t riveting. I can’t even remember what I wrote. Several author newsletters come into my email box regularly, and I scan them. Some are archly self-deprecating. Some are breathless with news. Some are clearly filled with, well, filler because the writer has better things to do than write something for this medium. And some are interesting, the result of thought and effort. I’m impressed.

For most writers, from what I can see, newsletters have the main purpose of reminding readers that the writer is out there, working away on whatever the current project is, and making sure that readers don’t forget her or him. It’s basically the wave and calling yoohoo across the street.

Once in a great while I get one that I enjoy reading mostly because it’s not a sales pitch; it’s about something in particular that I’m interested in, or become interested in because of the short piece the writer has taken time to develop. But most newsletters could end and I wouldn’t miss any of them.

What I do miss, to my surprise, is my old site on Blogger. It was nothing but a blog page with my books listed on the side columns and a growing list of followers. (Silly as it is, I was proud of that.) It was easy to manage, and easier to find. But life got complicated and a website seemed the better choice. I wouldn’t say that today.

I haven’t been keeping up with my blog because I don’t want to waste my time writing and anyone else’s time reading something that is contrived rather than something that really is on my mind. I do have a few of those coming up, but here’s where things get tricky. Once I acknowledge that something is nagging at me, I spend some time thinking about it. And then a solution appears, and the problem no longer nags at me and hence I no longer have an interest in writing about it. I doubt I’m original in this. When I look at it this way, I’m surprised anyone gets a newsletter out there, regularly or irregularly.

This is all of a piece with my love/hate relationship with social media. The AG newsletter was reliable in that I could vet comments (deleting those that I found offensive or fishy) and keep out the inevitable bots and scammers. Since hackers seem to descend on various sites all at once, without any logic behind their choices that I can see, I sometimes think I should delete everything on social media, but I’m not sure that would solve any problems.

What you’re reading now is the typical writer’s unsettled grappling with a blessing and a curse—social media in all its forms. If we write or do anything creative, we want to reach an audience, we want our work to be read, and we want readers to be able to reach us. The journey between writer and reader is fraught with shoals, quicksand, hurricanes, sea monsters, a broken compass, pirates, and sometimes worse. It’s easy to forget that a good newsletter is an ongoing conversation with individuals who know the writer’s publications and interests and views; a reader who may, as has happened to me, talk about a character as though he or she were a friend of the family, someone known and cared for. I have friends who write to me about Anita Ray, and sometimes giggle about things Auntie Meena gets up to as though they had just seen her. These readers remind me of how fond I am of her, and why I keep up the Anita Ray series. (There’s another one in the works.)

So what is the upshot? I may send out one more newsletter informing people that this one is the end, and then hope they’ll pay closer attention to my blog. But that also means that I have to pay closer attention to it. 

I write for this blog, Ladies of Mystery, faithfully once a month. To this light burden, I can probably add a blog post at least once a month on my website. We’ll see how that goes. Right now, blogging occasionally is enough for me. And I’ll keep looking for problems to write about.

Being There: Writers and Actors

~ dzchurch ~ 5 Comments

It’s no secret that actors and writers have one big, big thing in common. Well, at least in my book. When faced with a tough scene, actors draw on their own memories and emotions to emote and draw us all in so that we believe in their every breath. There are so many great examples of this, but one that has stuck with me since I first saw To Kill a Mockingbird is the scene where Atticus (Gregory Peck) and Scout (Mary Badham) discuss her mother’s pearls. The emotion was so genuine, the theater so dark, and the patrons next to me so enraptured that I was present in that moment.

Like actors, writers seek the motivation and moment in our past to make what we write as real as the scene in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ was to me. We aren’t always successful, nor are actors, but it is in the trying.

One might ask, what could a successful businessperson know about poverty, worry about the next meal, or a place to sleep, well? While waiting to hear if yet another job interview with another ad agency would end in employment, I opened the linen closet in my roommate’s apartment (actually, I bunked on her couch). I spent several sleepless months there, the folks across the hall were the noisiest lovers in the entire frigging world. To this day, I suspect kink, when they stopped, about three, I slept.

On the day in question, I went to the cardboard box where I kept my money and was reminded that I had $79.00 left to my name. I owed my more-than-gracious roommate rent, gas for her car (the one she let me drive to my interview), and money for the phone bill. If I got the job, I had barely enough money left to ride rapid transit until I received my first paycheck. I sat with a plunk on my roommate’s couch and stared at the wall. The ad agency called the next day. I never looked back, but to this day, every time one of my bank accounts ends in $79, I freak out so badly that I sometimes transfer money from account to account just to change the final digits.

And where do I go when I need to describe action? The same place every writer does, the part of our brain where we stow our wild and risky adventures.

When I was eight, my family took a road trip in our massive aqua and white Nash Rambler. The one with the Nash seat, the front seats dropped all the way down, making the inside of the car into a king-size bed. It was a wonderful beast. To this day, I think of it and grin until it hurts. One night, we arrived at the campground on the Suwanee River very late and, rather than pitching the tent, dropped the seats, and the four of us—Mom, Dad, and sister Lynn slept four abreast.

In the morning, the air was so dense with moisture that it formed a haze. A few minutes in it and your clothes felt moist. My sister, a notoriously robust sleeper, was still sleeping, and Mom was wrestling with the coffee pot, when Dad held up the Frisbee and motioned for me to follow him to an open field.

Dad sent soft passes my way, I’d grab them, that is, until a Great Horned Owl swooped out of the early morning mist, grabbed the hair on the top of my head, and tried to fly away with me. Dad threw the Frisbee at the owl and ran toward me, maybe to grab my feet as I was lifted into the air. The owl flapped its wide wings and flew away with a hank of hair in its talons. That memory of how scared, fascinated, and small I felt was available when I needed to describe the owl attacks in “Unbecoming a Lady,” the first book in the Wanee Mystery series.

Writers keep these moments in their back pockets. It is remembering, applying, and interpreting them that results in the descriptive words on the page, just like actors rely on their past to create character. And, like them, we never know what tidbit from the past will meet the need and allow us to leave our readers gasping, or sobbing, or in wonder, as Atticus and Scout do every single time I rewatch ‘To Kill a Mockingbird.’

Find me at https://dzchurch.com, where you can discover all my books and sign up for my newsletter.

Ties that Bind

~ donaleeMoulton ~ 4 Comments

In addition to buds, baby birds, and bugs, spring has brought with it Bind, my new book. I would love to hear your feedback.

Everything that happens in a yoga studio is not Zen. Sometimes it’s grand larceny.

Three yogis, two cops, and one damn cute dog join forces to discover who’s stolen a Patek Philippe watch from what was supposed to be a secure locker.  Time is ticking.

Shondra (Woo Woo) Aeron, Lexie Hill, and Charlene Kurtz meet five mornings a week at the Asana Yoga Studio for a downward dog or two, one serene savasana, and a steaming cup of coffee afterwards. They’re not friends, but the theft of a very expensive watch from the gym where their studio is located draws them together – and into a bind of another type. 

To support Kristi Yee, their yoga instructor and co-owner of the gym, the three women offer to help her retrieve (some might call it stealing) financial information from her business partner. Mission successful (albeit with a few hiccups). It doesn’t take Charlene, an auditor, long to determine the balance sheet is not all it appears. Certainly, fencing a very expensive watch would help.

The partner isn’t the only suspect. The watch owner could use some money. He is having a relationship with at least two women, neither his wife. One of those women, who made the affair loudly public early one morning in the gym, has managed to cash in on her relationship. The other woman is unknown, at least initially.

The watch owner’s son, a diehard romantic, is also a suspect. His father and his girlfriend certainly think so. He doesn’t need or want the money, but his girlfriend does. At least he thinks so. He thinks wrong.

The girlfriend is also a suspect. She could, apparently, use money and she does not like her boyfriend’s father. That’s not fair, she detests him. Gym staff are also under police scrutiny as well as Kristi herself.

One conundrum for Halifax Police Detective Michael Terrell: how could someone remove the watch from a busy changeroom locker? Admittedly, the owner lost his key, which he usually does at least once a week, but you’d have to know what locker the key opened or try each locker in the change room. Warriors three to the rescue. Their task, at the request of Terrell (who seems to have a thing for Woo Woo, a reflexologist) is to try and penetrate the inner gym sanctum.

They fail, hilariously. But in their failure comes one undeniable conclusion: whoever stole the watch knew exactly what locker to open and what they would find inside.

Throughout the investigation a number of other more personal issues arise. Lexie clearly has a thing for a gym employee. (It’s not what you think.) Someone is repeatedly trying to connect with Charlene. She resists. (It’s not what you think.) Every once in a while, Woo Woo gets a message from another world. (It is what you think.)

Namaste.

Guest Blogger ~ Lois Winston

~ patyjag ~ 8 Comments

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

By Lois Winston

First, a little literary history regarding the expression, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” It’s been around for a long time. In 1897 Mark Twain published the travel book Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World. Chapter Fifteenth included the epigraph, “Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t. — Pudd’nhead Wilson’s New Calendar.”

However, Twain wasn’t the first to come up with some version of the saying. Seventy-four years earlier, Lord Byron had Don Juan opine, “’Tis strange — but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction; if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange!”

Why am I telling you this? It’s because I’m not only a news junkie, but I’m also a diehard eavesdropper. I developed that skill at a very young age, learning all sorts of interesting stories while listening from behind closed doors. The adults in my life thought I was off playing with my dolls or watching cartoons, but I quickly realized that far more interesting tales were being told around my grandmother’s kitchen table. I became Harriet the Spy, well before Louise Fitzhugh ever dreamed up Harriet.

My grandmother, aunt, and great-aunts loved to gossip. Consequently, I learned some fascinating stories about my relatives and their private lives. Little did I know at the time that much of what I overheard would eventually wind up decades later as inspiration for characters and plots when I first got the itch to write a novel.

Much of what I heard involved my grandfather, who had a decades-long career in law enforcement during the heyday of organized crime in the New York metropolitan area. By the time I came along, he’d risen to captain of a major metropolitan police force. However, back in the day, he was personally responsible for the apprehension of many mobsters. But get this: one of his brothers was a bootlegger! And one of his wife’s brothers was romantically involved with a woman whose family was in the Mafia! I wound up going to school with two of her nieces. Mind-boggling, right?

Is it any wonder Anastasia Pollack, my Jersey Girl reluctant amateur sleuth so often finds herself tangling with Mafia henchmen?

To date, I’ve published twenty-three novels and five novellas. The plots and subplots for all have been drawn from events I’ve either observed, overheard, or read about—going all the way back to those early childhood days of listening with my ear pressed up to the kitchen door.

However, in Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the fourteenth and most recent book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, I didn’t draw on memories of conversations from my childhood. Instead, I looked no further than across the street from a former house my husband and I bought in 1998.

Over the years, I’ve had some very strange neighbors. Many of them have made their way into my books, but the couple who lived in the house across the street from us back then tops the Strange Neighbors List.

In Seams Like the Perfect Crime, readers meet the very odd Barry Sumner, a half-naked man who spends hours each day mowing his postage stamp-sized yard of weed-infested packed dirt. When the mower runs out of gas, Barry settles onto the top step of his porch, downs a six-pack or two, and passes out. Every day, year round, weather permitting.

And here’s where truth being stranger than fiction comes into play. The characters of Barry Sumner and his wife are based on the neighbors who lived across the street from my husband and me twenty-seven years ago, including the same strange mowing obsession and beer guzzling habit, as well as his wife’s suspicions regarding some hanky-panky. Luckily, this former neighbor didn’t meet the same fate that awaits Barry Sumner in Seams Like the Perfect Crime.

Seams Like the Perfect Crime

An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 14

When staffing shortages continue to hamper the Union County homicide squad, Detective Sam Spader once again turns to his secret weapon, reluctant amateur sleuth Anastasia Pollack. How can she and husband Zack Barnes refuse when the victim is their new neighbor?

Revolutionary War reenactor Barry Sumner had the odd habit of spending hours mowing a small patch of packed dirt and weeds until his mower ran out of gas. He’d then guzzle beer on his front porch until he passed out. That’s where Anastasia’s son Nick discovers his body three days after the victim and his family moved into the newly built mini-McMansion across the street.

After a melee breaks out at the viewing, Spader zeroes in on the widow as his prime suspect. However, Anastasia has her doubts. There are other possible suspects, including a woman who’d had an affair with the victim, his ex-wife, the man overseeing the widow’s trust fund, a drug dealer, and the reenactors who were blackmailing the widow and victim.

When another reenactor is murdered, Spader suspects they’re dealing with a serial killer, but Anastasia wonders if the killer is attempting to misdirect the investigation. As she narrows down the suspects, will she jeopardize her own life to learn the truth?

​Craft projects included.

Buy Links

Amazon: https://amzn.to/49KvjaG

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/seams-like-the-perfect-crime

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seams-like-the-perfect-crime-lois-winston/1146583329?ean=2940184679983

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/seams-like-the-perfect-crime/id6738502932

Books2Read Universal Link to Other Sites: https://books2read.com/u/3LXa1e

USA Today and Amazon bestselling author Lois Winston began her award-winning writing career with Talk Gertie to Me, a humorous fish-out-of-water novel about a small-town girl going off to the big city and the mother determined to bring her home to marry the boy next door. That was followed by the romantic suspense Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception.

Then Lois’s writing segued unexpectedly into the world of humorous amateur sleuth mysteries, thanks to a conversation her agent had with an editor looking for craft-themed mysteries. In her day job, Lois was an award-winning craft and needlework designer, and although she’d never written a mystery—or had even thought about writing a mystery—her agent decided she was the perfect person to pen a series for this editor.

Thus, was born the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries, which Kirkus Reviews dubbed “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” The series now includes fourteen novels and three novellas. Lois also writes the Empty Nest Mysteries and has written several standalone mystery novellas. Other publishing credits include romance, chick lit, and romantic suspense novels, a series of romance short stories, a children’s chapter book, and a nonfiction book on writing, inspired by her twelve years working as an associate at a literary agency.

Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com where you can find links for her other social media sites and sign up for her newsletter to receive a free download of an Anastasia Pollack Mini-Mystery.

Website: http://www.loiswinston.com

Newsletter sign-up: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/dc9t0bjl00

Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog: www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com

Booklover’s Bench: https://bookloversbench.com

The Stiletto Gang: https://www.thestilettogang.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/722763.Lois_Winston

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lois-winston

Name that title!

~ lanamfox ~ 3 Comments

I’m editing my latest Hood River Valley Mystery, getting it ready to send out to my editors. I’ve been thinking a lot about titles. The title of this book came to me when I first started writing the book. It fits because the serial killer in the story talks about capturing Her Last Breath.

Sometimes the title is the first thing I know about a book when I start to write. Other times I struggle to come up with something that fits the story and is hopefully enticing to readers. I wanted the title for my last book to be, The Ice Princess. Not long after I finished writing that book, another writer used The Ice Princess for the title of their book. The books would’ve been published close together so I opted to change my title. I didn’t know what to use, so I had a contest on Facebook. I told my friends and followers the title I’d picked out, why I didn’t want to use it, and invited them to come up with a title for me. I offered a free signed copy of the new book when it came out. Several people offered ideas for titles, and I picked the one I liked best, and thought would work for my novel, Through Frozen Eyes.

When I wrote the first novel in my Hood River Valley Series, I titled it My Sister’s Keeper. I didn’t realize there was a famous novel by Jodi Picoult by that title. I wish I’d known because several people have told me they read the book years ago and loved it. Then I have to admit that my book has only been out a couple of years and they’re probably referring to the book by Jodi Picoult. Luckily, titles aren’t copywrited!

I’m always interested in how other writers come up with their titles. They usually come easily for me, so when one doesn’t, I think it’s the end of the world!

I feel that picking out a title is sort of like naming your children. The name (or title) will stay with them the rest of their lives, so you’ve got to get it right. When I got pregnant with my first son, my husband wanted to name him, Curtis Hugo. I was horrified! I was young enough that I didn’t realize he wanted to name him after two members of his family who were important to him. I was afraid he’d get beaten up in school because Curtis Hugo sounded like a nerd. My husband didn’t push it, and we ended up naming him after one of his uncles and my cousin. Win, win for both of us. (And our son!)

I’ve recently heard that it’s good to have the same type of title for each book in a series. Who knew? I do have the same number of words for each title in the series. I’ll try to keep that in mind for the next one.

I’m learning as I go on this writing journey and loving it. I know I still have a lot to learn, and I plan to keep at it for the long haul.

What about you? If you are an author, do you have an easy time naming your books? Or do you struggle with titles like I sometimes do? Are you drawn to a book because of the title? I’m very visual, so I’m drawn more by the cover, but occasionally I see a title and think I have to read that book.

I’d love to hear your process. Leave a comment and let me know.