Time Available, Plus

My cousin has a catchphrase about stuff. She opines that one’s stuff expands to fit the space available, plus two boxes.

My variation on that theme is this: The number of tasks demanding my attention expands to fit the time available, plus five or six more tasks, all with screaming deadlines, taking up line after line on my to-do list.

Yes, I keep a to-do list. It’s satisfying to check off those items. But I keep adding more, until the page is covered with scribbles, some of them in the margins, and hand-drawn stars indicating the urgency. Oh, the tasks that make their way onto that list—and get in the way of writing. There are so many.

I retired from my day job more than a decade ago. I figured I would have more time to write. Not unlimited, never that. But more. Hah! Like that worked.

“I don’t know how I got anything done before I retired.” When I was working full time, I used to hear people say that. After I retired, I was the one saying it. However, I do know how I got things done. I didn’t sleep—much. During those last few years, what with the day job and the commute, I got up at 4 AM so I could write before making that rush-hour drive to my office. Once I retired, sleeping in past 6 AM was pure joy. So is reading my morning newspaper in the morning, a mug of coffee beside me, instead of catching a few pages while eating lunch at my desk.

It’s amazing what crops up to fill the time. Tasks, some pleasant, some routine and necessary. I need to clean my home from time to time, because I like to walk through the rooms without tripping over the clutter. In the spring and summer, I look at the proliferation of weeds in my garden, thinking I’d better haul on the gloves and deal with them.

Exercise is a desirable routine. I have a weekly tai chi session that has been good for me. And walks. Because you never know, I might work my way through that thorny plot issue while walking along the beach near my home.

Errands, always errands. Grocery shopping for me. Stocking up on cat food for my four-pawed furballs. Library visits, to pick up or take back books. Visits to the doctor or dentist. And those trips that are good for the soul, such as meeting a good friend for lunch or coffee, always with plenty of conversation. Or an outing to a museum or the theatre.

I treasure those days when my dance card isn’t crowded, just my morning session with the newspaper, a walk (if the weather permits), and the rest of the day spent in front of the computer, writing and polishing my work in progress. That is so satisfying. But lately, things are getting in the way. I’m thinking of that daylight-savings-time mantra: “Spring forward, fall back.” The term “fall back” makes me think about falling behind. I have certainly felt that way over the past two years, when family and personal issues got in the way of writing.

The tasks are always expanding to fill up the to-do list. That’s always going to be the case, I suspect. One issue gets taken care of, and then another crops up to take its place. And always, things that get in the way of writing, if I let them.

So on to checking off one more thing on the to-do list: this month’s blog!

Guest Blogger ~ Skye Alexander

Clothes Make the Woman

The fashion world is ever-changing, and in the 1920s when my Lizzie Crane mystery series takes place the clothes a woman wore not only expressed her sense of style but also the changing ideas and mores of the Jazz Age. Modern ladies were shedding outdated social roles and restrictions as fast as they cast off their corsets. Hemlines rose to previously shocking lengths, baring ankles and calves. Some daring young women even painted images of their beaus on their knees––their short skirts revealed the pictures when they danced the Charleston. Glittery flapper dresses, resplendent with sequins and fringe, exposed plenty of skin. On the beaches, swimming costumes crept up high enough that policemen known as “beach censors” trod the sand, measuring ladies’ legs to make sure no more than six inches of flesh showed between hem and knees.

Wearing trousers, too, signaled not only a desire for comfort and convenience, but a shift toward equality between women and men as well. In most circles at that time, a lady dressed in pants raised eyebrows. Some towns in the Midwest and South even outlawed wearing trousers and fined brazen women for doing so. In the first novel in my Lizzie Crane mystery series, Never Try to Catch a Falling Knife, my jazz singer heroine from Greenwich Village gets off to a rocky start her first day on the job by wearing trousers when she meets her conservative Yankee employer. Sportswomen, however, were grudgingly allowed to don knickers on the golf course or men’s white trousers while playing tennis. Although off-the-rack pants for ladies weren’t available in the early Twenties, the 1927 Sears catalog offered tweed woolen knickers to golfing girls for $2.98. If you wanted something more in line with what Katherine Hepburn popularized a decade later, you had to have them custom-made or buy men’s and alter them yourself.

The Inside Scoop on Intimate Attire

As women’s outer garments changed, so did their underwear. No longer confined by tight corsets and multiple petticoats, liberated ladies shed the many layers their mothers wore in favor of slinky teddies, camisoles, and bloomers that slid comfortably beneath their slim-fitting dresses. Nylon, polyester, and other synthetic materials didn’t exist at that time, so wealthy women chose undies made of silk whereas ladies of lesser means garbed themselves in cotton, rayon, and wool. Instead of only boring white, lingerie now became available to style-conscious women in pink, peach, beige, light green, and naughty black. https://www.sewhistorically.com/dressing-the-1920s-woman-1920s-lingerie/

Prior to the Roaring Twenties, women wore thick stockings primarily for warmth. Now, with their legs on display in their new short skirts, modern ladies switched to sheer stockings that showcased their calves. Silk stockings were the preferred choice for those who could afford them at $1.48/pair in 1925 (the equivalent of about $25 in today’s money), in colors ranging from champagne to black. Rayon provided a cheaper alternative for cost-conscious women––and if they objected to the material’s sheen, they dusted their legs with powder to soften it.  

Women who still chose to wear girdles clipped their stockings to attached garters. Free-spirited fems rolled their stockings into place and fastened them just above the knee with elastic bands. The bands, sometimes called “jazz garters,” soon became a fashion statement in themselves, decorated with lace, ribbons, and rhinestones in sexy colors such as purple, red, and black. And if a woman wanted to keep a nip nearby in defiance of Prohibition, she could wear a garter flask that featured a pocket with a small silver container to hold her drink of choice.

Shopping for Clothes in the Roaring Twenties

Prior to the 1920s, most women made their own clothes. But as more entered the workforce during the Jazz Age––half of single women were employed outside the home in 1930––they had less time to devote to sewing. In response to this trend, department stores such as Macy’s and Bergdorf Goodman began selling off-the-rack garments. Now, busy ladies could purchase ready-made dresses, coats, and other clothing rather than engage in the time-consuming task of creating their own wardrobes or paying seamstresses to fabricate them.

For people who couldn’t afford to buy at upscale department stores, a shopping alternative arose during the 1920s: thrift shops. Prior to this time, peddlers hawking used clothing and other goods were common in America’s cities and towns––especially in less affluent neighborhoods. Many of these merchants were Jewish immigrants. But during the Twenties, Christian churches began establishing outlets to sell clothing and other products donated by parishioners with the goal of raising money for their churches. Goodwill trucks collected used clothing from more than a thousand households in the Twenties. Proceeds from thrift stores funded half the Salvation Army’s budget. Chanteuse Lizzie Crane, my style-savvy protagonist, realizes that wealthy ladies wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the same evening gown twice, and she buys most of her attire secondhand at church charity stores.

Hemlines and the Economy

Not only do the clothes a woman wears reveal her personal tastes, social class, and ideology, they may also be an indication of the economy. According to the “Hemline Index,” skirts rise during periods of prosperity and lengthen during leaner times. The short skirts of the Twenties celebrated a post-war boom as well as newfound freedoms for women. During World War II and the recession that followed, women’s hemlines dropped again. When times were good in the 1960s, the fashion world gave us the miniskirt and the bikini.

That’s not to say investors should take tips from haute couture––it’s likely that the fashion industry follows economic trends rather than predicting them. But perhaps something more than personal taste or vanity influences a woman’s choice of clothing. Risqué styles reflect a sense of playfulness, confidence, and freedom from limitations or worries, whereas more serious garb suggests a desire for protection, endurance, and the security of tradition. Whether or not these psychological connections have any merit, certainly the Roaring Twenties transformed the way women thought of themselves and their place in the world––and their clothes reflected that transformation.

Running in the Shadows

March 1926: Salem, Massachusetts

A spring equinox party at the mansion of a rich, flamboyant, and controversial art collector promises New York jazz singer Lizzie Crane and her band a fat paycheck, lucrative connections, and plenty of fun. She’ll also have an opportunity to reconnect with a handsome Boston Brahmin she fancies.

But the excitement she hopes for doesn’t turn out the way she expected. On the night of the musicians’ first performance, a naked young woman trots into the ballroom on horseback, sweeps up a talented artist named Sebastian, and rides off with him into the night. The next morning, Lizzie discovers the artist’s body tied to a tree, shot full of arrows like the martyred Saint Sebastian in Botticelli’s painting.

            Soon Lizzie learns that her business partner, pianist Sidney Somerset, once had a close relationship with the dead man––and police suspect Sidney may have murdered him. As she tries to protect her friend and discover the killer, Lizzie gets swept up in the treacherous underworld of art theft and forgery, a world where fantastic sums of money change hands and where lives are cheap. 

Buy links :Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Running-Shadows-Lizzie-Crane-Mystery/dp/1685127061/

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/running-in-the-shadows-skye-alexander/1146168035?ean=9781685127060

Skye Alexander is the author of more than 50 fiction and nonfiction books. Her stories have appeared in anthologies internationally, and her work has been translated into fifteen languages. In 2003, she cofounded Level Best Books with fellow crime writers Kate Flora and Susan Oleksiw. So far her Lizzie Crane mystery series includes four traditional historical novels set in the Jazz Age: Never Try to Catch a Falling Knife, What the Walls Know, The Goddess of Shipwrecked Sailors, and Running in the Shadows. Her fifth, When the Blues Come Calling, is scheduled for release in September 2025. After living in Massachusetts for thirty-one years, Skye now makes her home in Texas.

Visit her at https://skyealexander.com

Report On The LCC Conference I Didn’t Attend by Heather Haven

I’d been waiting all year for the 2025 Left Coast Crime Conference to happen. I signed up for it sometime in the summer of 2024. My husband, Norm, and I made reservations on the Amtrak going from Emeryville, California, to Denver, Colorado. We were going to join friend and fellow writer, Janet Dawson, on the 36-hour train ride across the Rockies, play cards and scrabble, eat wonderful meals, and arrive in Denver in time to check in for the conference on Wednesday evening. I had registered and paid for the conference and bought tickets to the Awards Dinner for Norm and me. I was on a fun panel. We had airline tickets to fly home Sunday evening at the end of the conference. There was even an afternoon tea at the famous Brown’s Hotel on the agenda. All was right with the world, and the trip was planned to the last detail. But pass the cheese, please. The best-laid plans of mice and men.

6 days before we were to leave, I started coughing. I wasn’t too worried. I had nearly a week to shake this, right? Besides, I had all the vaccinations you can have. Nothing could happen, right? Wrong. Each day the coughing, sneezing, wheezing, and congestion got worse. On the 4th day of this scourge, I saw my doctor and got tested. No Covid, RSV, or flu. Just one of your common, every day, unnamed viruses that knocks your socks off for at least 10 to 14 days. Stay home, drink plenty of liquids, take whatever over-the-counter meds make you feel better, and ride it out. That’ll be $25, please. Thank you, Doctor. I could have told you that and saved myself 25 bucks and a trip to Kaiser. I have since named the unnamed virus. After all, they name hurricanes, and this was my very own personal hurricane. I call it Fred.

But I digress. So, home I went, feeling enormously sorry for myself. I crawled back into bed, Norm brought me chamomile tea, the cats cuddled, and I resigned myself. We were scheduled to leave for Denver in three days, and I could barely lift my head from the pillow. There was no way I could make this trip. Even Norm, Mister-You-Can-Do-It, shook his head in sympathy. Time to put on my Big Girl Panties, so to speak, and let friends, associates, and fellow writers know I wasn’t coming to LCC this year. My life was over. Well, not really. But when one feels like a bucket of horse manure and locked out of one of the most wonderful and fun times of the year, one is allowed to go there. So, there I went.

It was short-lived. Soon, I got texts and pictures from the train taken by our wonderful Janet, who was disappointed we couldn’t join her but was making the best of it. In those brief moments, I felt a part of the trip, enjoying the shared moments. Janet continued to send me highlights of the trip, conference, and even the high tea at Brown’s. Then a few other pals wrote emails or sent me texts, some with pictures. Even the panel moderator, Chris Dreith, decided not to replace me with another writer but wanted me to answer the same questions she would have asked had I been there. Chris made a sock puppet in my image. I gotta tell you, the resemblance is uncanny. See right. Using her ventriloquist skills, Chris used the sock to voice my answers. Then she gave the puppet sock and my latest book to a contest “winner,” Grace Koshida, who happens to be the Fan of Honor at the conference. Because Grace is a sweetheart, she alerted me on Facebook about this and included more wonderful pictures.

I may not have been at the conference, but so many people went out of their way to include me and make sure I knew I was missed, like Baird Nuckolls pictured left, that I feel warm all over when I think about it. I am well now, but I am keeping the emails, texts, and pictures sent by my friends and associates from LCC 2025 for the future. If I ever feel sorry for myself, that nobody cares, and I’d better eat some worms, before I get out the frying pan I’m going to remember this incident. I’m going to be thankful I live in a world with friends who are mystery writers and readers because, surely, they are the most thoughtful and kindest people on the planet.

Guest Blogger ~ Erica Miner

Overture to Murder: a violinist who won’t quit sleuthing

It’s strange how a standalone mystery can evolve into a series. I started off with just one book, Aria for Murder, inspired by my 21 years of experience playing violin at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. The protagonist, young violinist Julia, trades her violin for a detective’s hat as she finds herself investigating murders that take place on and offstage. I had fun weaving real operas into the mystery plot and was gratified at the number of readers who told me they enjoyed learning about opera for the first time. It never occurred to me to write a sequel until one of my fans asked me for one. As a savvy opera aficionado who knew the opera world inside out, he even specified that Book 2 should take place at the Santa Fe Opera.

I jumped at the idea. Though I had never visited Santa Fe, I knew that its opera house, an outdoor theatre set between two mysterious mountain ranges, would be the ideal setting for an opera mystery. Prelude to Murder was the result. While I was in Santa Fe researching the book, I met with a friend, the dramaturg of the San Francisco Opera who, when I revealed my work in progress, asked if I would be interested in writing a third mystery to take place at his company. Book 3, Overture to Murder,was born a year later.

In the story, a suspicious hit-and-run and subsequent backstage murder drive Julia to continue her relentless sleuthing as she investigates deadly secrets behind the music. Can she uncover the truth before the curtain falls on her family’s safety? The answers lie in Overture to Murder. As always, Julia manages to find trouble lurking in every dark hallway and back stairway of the San Francisco Opera, proving once again that an opera house is the perfect environment for mischief and mayhem.

But there were other reasons why I decided to set my third mystery at San Francisco Opera. First of all, San Francisco is one of the world’s most captivating cities. And it considers its opera only slightly less sacred than the Holy Grail. It’s totally an opera town. It’s also a city of mystery and suspense. Witness “Haunted SF Ghosts, Murder and Mystery: a dark and ghastly tour through the mysterious past of downtown alleys and streets. Get haunted by after-dark tales of strange deaths, ruthless villains, famed ghosts, and shocking assassins.” Oh yes. There’s more to the scary aspects of this city than meets the eye.

My most compelling motivation, however, was my personal history with San Francisco’s War Memorial Opera House. Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time there, visiting close relatives and friends who have worked with this illustrious company. When I started researching Overture to Murder, I learned about the fascinating history connecting the opera company with the Gold Rush and other astonishing aspects of the city’s history. But this time, as my friend who had motivated my desire to write the mystery showed me the opera house from top to bottom, I developed a special new intimacy with the place. What I discovered was a theatre steeped in intrigue, with dark creepy basements, ancient creaky elevators, and terrifying catwalks; a place with its own ghosts, whose stories could curl your ears.

What better place to set a mystery?

Overture to Murder

High notes of suspense and danger as the curtain comes down on murder in the third novel of Erica Miner’s Julia Kogan Opera Mystery series. Young Metropolitan Opera violinist Julia heads to the San Francisco Opera to replace ailing concertmaster, Ben, who has suffered serious injuries in a hit-and-run accident. Julia suspects it was no accident, and when one prominent company member becomes the victim of a grisly murder, she cannot resist becoming involved in the investigation. As in her previous sleuthing at the Met and Santa Fe Opera in Books 1 &2, Julia finds danger lurking in the elegant but creepy San Francisco War Memorial Opera house and again finds herself face to face with a ruthless killer. But this time her courage is put to the test when the life of a precious family member is in even deeper peril.

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/Overture-Murder-Julia-Kogan-Mystery/dp/1685127819/

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/overture-to-murder-erica-miner/1146432661?ean=9781685127817

https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/book/9781685127817

Award-winning Seattle-based author, lecturer, screenwriter, and arts journalist Erica Miner believes opera theatres and fiery artistic temperaments are a chilling backdrop for murder, and perfect for creating fictional mischief! Drawing on her 21 years as a violinist at the famed Metropolitan Opera, Erica’s fanciful plot fabrications reveal the dark side of the fascinating world of opera in her Julia Kogan Opera Mystery series (Level Best Books): Aria for Murder (2022), finalist in the 2023 CIBA and Eric Hoffer Book Awards; Prelude to Murder (2023), a Distinguished Favorite in the 2024 NYC Big Book Awards;and Book 3, Overture to Murder (2024), a Distinguished Favorite in the 2025 Independent Press Awards.

Erica’s debut novel, Travels with My Lovers, won the Fiction Prize in the Direct from the Author Book Awards. Her screenplays have won awards in the Writer’s Digest, Santa Fe, and WinFemme competitions. When she isn’t plumbing the depths of opera houses for murderous mayhem, Erica frequently contributes reviews and interviews for the well-known arts websites https://classicalvoiceamerica.org, www.bachtrack.com, and www.BroadwayWorld.com.

Erica has lectured on opera and writing throughout the US, as well as in Australia.

Social Media:

https://www.facebook.com/erica.miner1

https://www.instagram.com/emwriter3/

Author Website:

https://www.ericaminer.com

Guest Blogger ~ John Ferriso

Why I Write True Crime.            

Many things can lead us to write down our stories. My writing journey did not just begin; it was always there. As a child, I would remember an incident and retell it to anyone interested. A television show or a stickball game were topics that, years later, I retold to my friends and family. As a child, I watched the police-related television drama Barney Miller, and its dry cop humor interested me. Hill Street Blues had the precinct crime that I enjoyed. Movies like Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, and Fort Apache the Bronx showed the gritty portrayal of street-level crime; I was hooked and wanted in on the action.    

Growing up in New York, the nightly news inspired me to want a career in law enforcement. I watched the nightly news as the reporters talked about the 44 Caliber killer who murdered his victims; the newspapers referred to him as the Son of Sam. I looked at the morning newspaper headlines and the horrible photos of the women shot. My neighbors talked about him, and teenage girls had their hair color changed. I understood that the Police were looking for the guy. I was fascinated with the stories adults told about the crimes and the ongoing investigations described.

I read true crime, which interested me. I was a reader before my NYPD career and my writing endeavor began. I was in college when I read about the suspects, the investigations surrounding them, and the detectives who hunted them down.

I was in college, working at a sports bar, and waiting to get called to the police academy. I was standing near the waiter’s station, pondering my future law enforcement career. I had a few tables and only a few dollars in my pocket. It would be five more months until the police academy; what type of cop would I become? I will write down what I experienced in the NYPD.

My childhood dream of being in law enforcement propelled me to write. To become a writer, you must focus on what interests you. I no longer needed to listen to the stories of other cops: I was living the same short stories I once read about. I took note cards to work and scribbled pencils to paper my thoughts and engaging experiences. I kept these notecards secret from my co-workers; it was my writing journey.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was working in Lower Manhattan, half a ½ mile from the towers. The events of that day and all I witnessed would be imprinted on my mind like an ever-playing movie scene. The day’s horrible events would give me a story to tell others. A few days after the events, I began writing in my spiral notebook everything I witnessed. I condensed my thoughts and observations to 17 pages. I wanted to do more than tell my story; I wanted others to read about it. On the 20th anniversary of the attacks, my story was published online. Free for all to read about what I was an eyewitness to on that horrific day.

In a New York Minute: An officer’s eyewitness account of the events of September 11, 2001 – The Juniper Park Civic Association

After retirement, it was time for me to tell my stories and get my work published. I began with one story about an intoxicated businessman who parked his vehicle on the roadway. I wrote it down as a short story and sent it to Psychology Today. What if the Police called all your contacts? What would they say about you? They published my story! I now knew I was more than just a storyteller; others were interested in what I experienced and what I was saying.

In 2023, it was time to take short stories and self-publish them. All in a day’s work: an officer’s accounts 20 Years NYPD. Soon after, I was a podcast guest in the USA, Australia, and England. I was now telling my stories to a broader audience, discussing my writing journey and the interesting cases I investigated.  

ALL IN A DAY’S WORK

When you are a New York City police officer you become a social worker, chauffeur, human relations consultant, and tour guide. You are expected to do all those tasks while stopping crime as it occurs, preventing crime, and keeping the peace in a city that never takes a break. Let’s not forget you get to do all this within a workday or tour as we call it.

These separate tasks come to you at random times, so going to work is like a roll of the dice. One moment, you are driving with your partner, talking about nonsense, and five minutes later, you are coming face to face with dangerous people who just committed a criminal act. The weight of these tasks can become overwhelming and mentally drain you if you allow it to happen. Many times, you do not have time to reflect on the day’s events. You just move on to the next crisis. Within days or a month, NYPD cops will get involved with and witness more toxic events than an average person will see in a lifetime. Active cops must navigate and work with their coworkers, supervisors, the public, and criminals. What people believe cops do daily regarding police work is often far from the truth.

You will find within my short stories what is occurring inside those moving police vehicles. What the city was like in the days after September 11, 2001. Take a close, in-depth look at the investigation within the NYPD detective squad room. Within the squad room, the pen can influence like a hammer, and a phone call can arrive like a hurricane. If you want the gritty, alarming, and sometimes comical truth behind police work, you have arrived at your destination.

buy link: https://a.co/d/gHVCzb7

I also began to network with authors regarding my law enforcement experience. I could advise other writers on how to place accurate and interesting police-related material into their stories. I could technically advise about the progression of the cases, how the reports are written, and even cop humor. Beyond storytelling and writing, giving back to the writing community is essential and will propel me in future endeavors.

I mainly write true crime because I lived it, which has always kept my interest.

John can be contacted at:

https://ferrisinvestigations.org/

John.Ferriso1970@gmail.com

www.linkedin.com/in/john-ferriso