Murder She Writes

(Please welcome guest blogger Josie Brown! Josie is blogging for us today, while Karin is playing in New York…. Welcome, Josie!)

[definition: \a-'myuz bush\ [Fr. amuse the mouth] 1: a small bite before the meal begins.]

I always find it interesting where and when the muse strikes me.

Usually it is when I am in the shower. My husband, Martin, and I are really big on scented soaps (Tip: always on sale in Ross Dress-For-Less; now you know one of my deepest darkest secrets . . .) so there is even more incentive for me to stay all hot (I like my showers steamy) and lathered up.

I write from the moment I wake up, until late at night. That is a luxury, I know, and I am grateful to be able to do so—with periodic breaks, of course, for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and a walk in the Northern CA sunshine. (Five miles a day keeps those fridge runs in check).

So when do I shower? That’s part of my lunch break. Or, as I call it, my swunch.

(Get it? Sorta like “brunch” but you’re wet and naked . . .Okay, ya had to be there when I thought it up . . . Yeah, okay, IN THE SHOWER . . . at, um, lunchtime yesterday.)

Well, something’s got to get me out of my PJs, right?

Works for me. And if I’m lucky, I will have written enough pages that really it’s really a working shwunch! In other words, by the time the mirror is lost in the mist and yet another strip of wallpaper has peeled off the wall, I’ve fixed the hole in my plot, or come up with some truly witty dialogue, or worked out some scene that’s been bugging me all morning.

Or best of all, I’ve come up with a whole new book concept.

AND I smell great.

The only problem: No pen works in the tub.

Oh yeah: and the paper gets wet.

And yes, smarty, I tried using a tape recorder. No go.

Hmmm. I think I’ll noodle on that one. Maybe during swunch today . . .

Okay now, ’fess up: How many of you out there also swunch?

/ Josie Brown

(PS: The computer gets waterlogged, too.)

Josie Brown’s latest book is IMPOSSIBLY TONGUE-TIED (HarperCollins/Avon). Josie left the advertising industry to become a crusading investigative reporter. Sadly, in our voyeuristic culture vulture society, there is an insatiable demand (and better pay) for celebrity journalists, which is how Josie came to rub elbows (not to mention egos) with the rich and famous. She still writes about celebrity, sex and scandal, only now as fiction (which, she insists, is just as strange as what she knows to be fact). You can read more about Josie and her books on her website: http://www.josiebrown.com

I’m in New York.

This is so cool.

Seriously, I had planned to blog about why I think THE KILL finaled in the Ritas over my other two books (basically–alpha male on a motorcycle plus an emotionally driven story), but everything I was going to say fell out of my brain. All I can think about is New York, New York, New York.

I’ve never been here before. If I were Jennifer Apodaca, I’d have something fun and humorous to report. If I were Natalie, something weird would have already happened to me. If I were Deborah, I’d have a poignant story to share. If I were Karin, I’d be talking about the hot, hot, hot firefighters we saw driving through Little Italy in a limo.

But I’m me, and this is my report.

Everyone thinks New Yorkers are rude and grumpy. Not so. They love it here. Every cab driver I’ve had has told me he loves New York. There’s no other city like it. They’d be happy to live and die in New York. One cabby said he’d never been west of Ohio and he’d like to see San Francisco someday, but he’d always come back to New York. Even the doorman of my hotel loves New York. People may walk fast and wear dour expressions, but they love their city, period. And that, friends, means a lot.

Rudy Guiliani is a demigod here. I can’t tell you how many people have told me how he cleaned up the city. I know about parks that no one dared walk through at night, let alone the day, which now have kids playing and lovers strolling and workers eating. I thought there’d be more graffiti, but surprise surprise, not in the heart of the city.

The Starbucks outside my hotel makes a fabulous triple grande nonfat caramel latte. Exactly the way it should be made. I’ll be there against tomorrow morning.

I love the way New Yorkers drive, particularly the taxi drivers. I get from Point A to Point B fast. I like that. There’s this unspoken camraderie on the road, a competitiveness that is almost friendly, as they weave in and out, turn, speed up, slow down, but always get you to where you want to go.

Did you know Broadway is 150 miles long? That’s much, much longer than Manhattan.

The city never sleeps, the food is fabulous, there’s shopping on every corner, and water all around–the East River and the Hudson River and then, of course, the ocean. I saw the Statue of Liberty, albeit from afar, and stood there proud to be an American, even 3,000 miles from my home. I saw Ellis Island and understand exactly why people want to come here. We drove by Trinity Church, the church untouched by the terrorists that fateful day, right at ground zero. And I saw the hole those terrorists made and Americans rebuilding what’s ours. Because no matter what, whether you live in New York or San Francisco or any point in between, what happened on September 11, 2001 united us all. And I hope we never forget, because in adversity, what hurts us makes us stronger, and with all our diversity and hope and strength and suffering and life, we are Americans.

I already know that I will return someday, and hopefully soon. I don’t think I could live in NY–especially with kids–but I sure wouldn’t mind visiting regularly and soaking up the atmosphere, the pride, the pulse of America.

NY and California are totally different. We sure love our cars in California, our roads. Our space, our mountains, our lakes, our parks, our elbow room.

I never thought I could be a city girl, and I’m not–I like my wide open spaces, I like the quiet, I like listening to frogs and crickets and soothing running water. But I can definitely see the appeal of the sounds and lights, the ability to go out and just do anything at any hour. That Starbucks is always without walking distance.

There’s some things I want to do that I don’t think I’ll have time to do. Eat a hot dog from a corner stand. Or at least a pretzel (they smelled SOOOO good, but I had just eaten lunch . . . ) Shop. A lot. Try out a bunch of restaurants that looked and smelled good. Take a horse-drawn carriage through Central Park. I’m here on business, and today was my “free” day. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll get something else in.

So, now, you know what’s next, right? Time for BLATANT SELF PROMO. Yep, I have a book out this week. FEAR NO EVIL hit the shelves on Tuesday. If you haven’t picked up a copy, I’d love it if you did. This is the story with Dillon Kincaid, the forensic psychiatrist. He has forty-eight hours to find his sister Lucy before she’s murder over a live webcam. RT gave it a top pick. So if you find yourself in a book store, you know what to do

BTW, I’m here in NY for a published authors conference. If I pick up any interesting tidbits about the market and what’s hot and what’s not I’ll let you know. For the record, though, I never think you should write TO the market. Write what you love, and the market will find you. You may have to tweak and smooth after the fact to make it more marketable, but unless you have the passion for what you’re writing, it’ll be a much harder sell–whether you are already published, or not.

And the winners of the signed copies of TUTU DEADLY, and gift certificates from BN, are…. Pearl and Maureen!

Ladies, please contact me at Nataliewrites @ aol.com with your snail mail addys so I can send your books!

1  1

ARGH. The wireless Internet at the Dance Store was down ALLLLL day. And I had no chance to post my regular daily blog. I apologize for the lateness. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, however, to win a FREE COPY OF TUTU DEADLY and a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble. March Madness, REMEMBER?

I am LOST without my Internet. I swear, I was having panic attacks just thinking about it. How many of you find yourself TOTALLY reliant on modern technology?

Do you ever MAKE yourself walk away, and not touch the computer? Or the cell phone. When we go camping, usually, there is no cell service and sure as hell no Internet, but I admit I DO take my laptop. I’m only writing, though, because THERE IS NO INTERNET. Phew. Unable to say that except at the HIGHEST of pitches. LOL.

Remember, please, that my new mystery series debuts next week, April 3, at a local bookstore near you. Jenny T. Partridge is dancing into stores, and I’m dancing all over the place, I’m so excited.

So remember… COMMENT tonight, and all of those who commented over the past week will be entered for the drawing.

I recently saw this in an MSNBC article….

“Borders said it will cut the number of its Waldenbooks stores to about 300 by the end of next year from 564 at the end of 2006. Borders said it hoped to transfer as many employees as possible to other company stores. “ (Full story here– http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17742615/page/2/)

Sadly, it seems no matter where we turn today, books and everything associated with them are on the decline. Yet, at the same time, just about everyone you talk to complains that no one reads anymore….well, duh! Why can’t we see that we’re doing it to ourselves?

As a business owner, I understand the need to make a profit, I truly do. But if you’re in the book business, shouldn’t you be doing something to BUILD the book business instead of shrinking it? Instead of closing more stores, why don’t book retailers get a forum together, some sort of congressional meeting, and brainstorm on how this trend might be reversed?

Granted, there are companies out there trying to take a proactive stance. The problem is we don’t know what that stance is exactly. For example, check out this clipping from Pub. Weekly…

From Publisher’s Weekly:

“Warner No More
Warner Books has changed its named to Grand Central Publishing,
reflecting their soon-to-be new address on Park Avenue just north of
the station. “It also reflects the publisher’s renewed commitment to
publishing a diverse range of books and offering readers content
through new channels and new formats.” Publisher Jamie Raab’s idea, the
new name prevailed over such suggestions as Blue Heron and Jack Straw.”

It’s the “new channels and new formats” that concerns me. What do they mean by that? Considering the ever-shrinking readers’ market, I don’t think anything anyone has come up with so far is working. I don’t mean to be a pessimist here…just saying it like I see it.

Maybe we should start chunking instead of building…..chunk the video games….chunk the X-Boxes….chunk the boob-tube…chunk email and the internet, so people have to actually start talking to each other again face to face. And, hey, ya neva know…with all that crap out of our lives, we might find out we’ve actually got something of substance to talk about…like the last book we read…geez!

If you had to do it all over again, what technological hoo-hah (i.e. gadget) would you keep OUT of your life?

The other day, I was walking back in from the mail box when I saw a lizard-snake thing in the planter by the front door. It wasn’t exactly a lizard (which don’t scare me at all) or a snake (which terrify me) but some freaky hybrid.

It had lizard legs but it slithered.

Ugh. Even now it makes me shudder.

My husband came home from work and I yanked open the door and made him look. I told him that thing was giving me the creeps.

“Okay,” my husband said calmly and came in the house. He had the audacity to act normal.

But I was on guard. I stood at the front window and watched this thing slither up to the front porch, along the base of the house and disappear. I lost sight of it.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

I ran out the back door and around the front of the house. I peeked around the garage but couldn’t see it. I was forced to walk part way up the sidewalk until I saw it.

My heart stopped. The thing had slithered in between the closed front door and the screen door. Then it stuck its head out and looked at me. Evilly.

I ran…uh…casually walked back around the house, went in the back door and shut it. I calmly explained this situation to my husband. “Get it! Now! It’s going to get in my house and I’ll move! I swear! I. Will. Move!”

He sighed, got up, got a broom and went outside.

I stood guard at the front window.

The thing got out of the screen door, and my husband used the broom to encourage him to leave.

The lizard-snake thing curled up, raised its head and hissed. HISSED! Okay, I didn’t actually hear it hiss but it looked like a hiss from the other side of the closed and locked window.

Now my youngest son, who is eighteen, joins in the hunt. Even though the window is close, I heard my son and husband talking. “It’s just a lizard,” my son said, then they both look at me through the window and smirked.

Funny. Haha. Except I notice that neither one of them is getting too close. Big talkers. Sigh.

See here’s the thing. We have lizards all over the back yard. They don’t bother me. The run all over, sun themselves on my brick retaining wall, and once in a while, I have to actually rescue them from the pool. They startle me if I am taking out the trash and they dart by me. But they don’t scare me. And generally speaking, I don’t easily freak out about much.

This thing made me want to call the movers. It just gave me the creeps. I wanted it GONE.

My husband and son got rid of it. Even if they stood outside and made fun of me, they are my heroes.

Okay your turn. In the spirit of March Madness…tell me what has scared you recently. I’ll randomly pick one of the comments, and the winner will receive an Advance Copy (Uncorrected Proof) of my June 2007 Anthology, SUN, SAND, SEX with Linda Lael Miller, myself and Shelly Laurenston. You have all day Monday to comment, and I’ll annouce the winner in the comments section on Tuesday–so check back!

Ellie, c’mon down!!
You are the winner of a signed copy of THE HARD STUFF (it comes complete with warning ) and a $15 BN gift certificate! Whoo hoo! Email me at kltabke@aol.com with your snail mail addy and I’ll get it out to you when I return form New York (week of
April 2nd)
Thank you for commenting!!!!

1  1

Deb talked earlier this week about television heroes. I want to talk about heroines. While some may disagree, it seems to me heroines it seems to me get pushed aside for the dashing handsome heroes. I wondered why that is.

What brought me to this topic tonight is Elizabeth Edwards, and the news she is in fourth stage cancer. It is not curable. But it is manageable. Very manageable.
Her heroic battle will no doubt inspire many women and men to dig deep and fight the good fight.

As I watched her stand beside her husband, and he declared they were a fighting family, I felt my throat constrict and my stomach slowly churn. I coughed so as not to appear a smushy-goose in front of my husband (god forbid). My heart swelled and I thought of another Elizabeth who is as I type fighting the same battle. My mother has also fought this battle. Both of these women to me are true heroines.

When my mom found out, mom got mad. Fighting mad. She fought back–hard. She beat the bad guy. But then almost a decade later some of his friends showed up. She went and kicked their asses too. No sooner do those miserable bastards take a hike, more come. She swiftly dealt with those muthers. For the time being, my heroine Mom seems to have won the day. I have no doubt if the sneaky bastards try to slip in while she’s not looking she’ll have a quick say.

Then there is my other real-life friend and heroine, Liz. Wow. I want to have her cajones when I grow up. I want her fire and passion for life when I grow up. She made bald is beautiful more than a saying. She made headpieces so fashionable at conferences I am seriously considering fashioning one myself. I don’t know how she does it. She is strong, she is beautiful, she is brave and she kicks ass. She never gives up. She fights until there is nothing left to fight with. And when it looks like the bastards have her, she digs even deeper and rises to the challenge and wins! She is graceful under fire, she is a class act, she is all things female and all things good. She is pure, in the sense of pure true grit.

She does what a true heroine does. And you know what else she does? She makes it easy for the people who love her not to feel bad. How freaking heroic is that?

As I am writing REDEMPTION the other novella from hell, I asked myself after watching the news and seeing Elizabeth Edwards and thinking of my mom and of Liz, is my heroine, Danica Keller, worthy of my real life heroine’s friendship? Would they like her? Respect her? What would she do when it seemed the word turned away from her? Would she step up and fight? Or would she crawl into a corner and cry about it?

I am happy to say, Danica Keller is no cry baby. She’s a fightin’ heroine, just like the two Elizabeths and my Mom.
Okay, so now that I have myself all teary-eyed and wishing my mom was here for me to hug, I want to know, who are your real life heroines?