I just wanted to post a quick note to let our faithful readers know that the wonderful Elaine Flinn tried to respond to comments yesterday but was having computer difficulties. Don’t know it it’s her computer or our server, but you were not ignored! She’ll try and stop by over the weekend and comment, but don’t hunt her down if our servers don’t talk to each other. She wanted me to let everyone know that she really appreciates their comments and had fun reading them!

But I am on such a tight deadline right now, my first historical, formerly known as KISS OF THE KNIGHT, now tentatively titled TAKEN BY THE KNIGHT which is book one in The Blood Sword Legacy series, is nearing completion. As it damn well should because it is nearly a month late. But hey, when I originally contracted this story it was to be one way, now as the launch book of a series it has to be bigger, and bigger takes more time. And bigger it is. I love this story!!

As far as a coherent blog post for today, I cannot think of anything to say in modern English. Old Saxon and French, yes. I could talk about the politics of 1066 England, and how fascinating I find it. Or the complexity of the peoples of 11th century England. Like the difference between Normans, Saxons, Danes and Scots. Or knights and foot soldiers and who was the expert archer, or who wielded a battle ax as if it were a baton. I could talk about the broadsword all day long. Or about the huge Viking influence in England at this time. Or the Danelaw, and Danegeld, and how the Norse were amongst the cleanest peoples on the continent. They actually bathed weekly and changed clothes regularly. They were more than marauders; they were avid traders and as many of you know seafarers of the highest order. Even today, engineers marvel at the craftsmanship and engineering that went into the dragon ships built more than a thousand years ago. But I digress.

I am on deadline and cannot come up with a blog post today that would be of much interest to most. So I am not even going to try. I would like to say though, I am launching my third First Line contest over at my blog this coming Monday, October the 1st. I’ll be posting the guidelines sometime Sunday. Stop by and enjoy.

Again my apologies for not regaling you all today but I am on a mission to complete this story sometime today. Print it out tonight, flesh it out over the weekend, and have it to my agent Monday morning when she gets in. I still have 50 pages to write.

Ciao!

Please welcome Elaine Flinn, award-winning author of the wonderful Molly Doyle mysteries, as our special guest today. Publishers Weekly said of her latest release, DEADLY VINTAGE, “Carmel, California comes alive in Flinn’s engaging fourth mystery to feature Molly Doyle, antiques dealer and reluctant but adept sleuth. Once again Molly delves at considerable personal risk into a homicide case. Full of interesting antiques lore, this expertly plotted whodunit is a must-read for fans…”
and Crime Spree Magazine says, “A truly perfect traditional mystery…Flinn has the ability to draw the reader into the story with characters so terrific you very quickly feel like you are spending time with old friends.”

Feel free to ask her questions, talk about mysteries, find out if the rumors are true . . . what rumors you ask? The ones only Elaine knows about . . .

The Untimely Death of Mystery

Yes, it’s true. Mystery is dead. Michael Chabon has decreed it so. Oh? You didn’t know that? Well, hell’s bells, where have you been?
Maybe you don’t read Harper’s. Frankly, I don’t read it much myself these days. It’s really hard on my nerves, you know? I mean, I’m sick to death of page after page of redundant pontificating. And that index? ARGH! Wanna get depressed? Read it every month and I’ll guarantee you will. Guess you’re surprised to know I even read the thing, huh? Stop laughing. I even know how to spell Dostoevsky. But I digress. Harper’s is where I found out that our world—mystery–is dead. And we all know this illustrious magazine is the last word on what’s going on in the realm of the literati.

The quote below is what caught my eye. It’s taken from the opening of Ruth Franklin’s review of Michael Chabon’s new book The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. I wasn’t familiar with Ms. Franklin, so I checked the review out (May 8th in Slate) and discovered Ms. Franklin is the senior editor of The New Republic. Yes, I know–you’re already yawning–but stick with me, k?

Are you ready for the death knell? Here it is:

“Michael Chabon has spent considerable energy trying to drag the decaying corpse of genre fiction out of the shallow grave where writers of serious literature abandoned it.”

Oh, gosh. I didn’t know we’d died, did you? I also didn’t know we’d been abandoned either! I further didn’t know that we needed a champion. But you have to admit it’s pretty damn swell of him to take on the role. I just hate to see such a talented writer like Chabon expend so much unnecessary energy on a such a futile quest, don’t you? I’d rather see him working on his next Pulitzer. Maybe burning the midnight oil for that goal is what has clouded his mind. Clearly, he isn’t aware that we have plenty of our own hero types who can take this non-existent challenge off his hands. All one has to do is take a gander at the list of the MWA Edgar submission’s and pick your champion(s). Male or Female. No gender bias here.

I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to tell the 253 writers submitted (as of 9/7) for Best Novel, or the 50 Best First writers, or even the 107 Best BO authors let alone the 34 Best Crime writers that we’re dead. We won’t even get into shorts, YA or the rest of the categories.

But don’t get me wrong here. I’m not accusing Mr. Chabon of presumptuous arrogance in thinking he needs to save us. However, according to Ms. Franklin, Mr. Chabon “longs for the days of when masters such as Edgar Allan Poe, Edith Wharton and Henry James wrote ripping yarns packed with plot and color.” Gosh, you mean that’s been missing? But wait there’s more. How about this one — “In the lost genres – horror, romance, detective, and adventure – Chabon saw a tradition of great writers writing short stories.” Someone should clue this guy in and take him to the local book store. Lost genres?? Short stories? Well, yeah, if it takes you 434 pages to get your story done, then I guess it’s easy to consider anything less a short story.

But I’d sure as hell like to know just WHAT he’s trying to save us from. I mean, mystery is — and has been the central theme, in one way or another – of most literature. Sure it’s had different titles, different permutations – but most important – let’s not forget the key word in the quote “genre.” When you add SF, True Crime and Romance to the equation – and whatever the hell else you’d like to drop in — okay, add Noir too – well I’d say genre fiction is alive and kicking rather well, wouldn’t you?

The thing is Mr. Chabon has little room to criticize genre even Ms. Franklin states that some of his previous attempts have been less than startling. Less successfully, Chabon recently unfurled a wince-worthy serial novel (in the New York Times Magazine) set in the Caucasus Mountains at the end of the millennium, that featured some stunningly bad writing.”

Oh, golly gosh! Could Wikipedia be wrong? He’s labeled there as “one of the most celebrated writers of his generation.” His work is characterized by complex language, frequent use of metaphors, and an extensive vocabulary.”

And this guy thinks he needs to save US? Sounds to me like he might have use for a sharp red pencil. Stick with literature honey. We mystery people like plain language. Aren’t too crazy about the over use of metaphors either.

So save the dough for the flowers, and cancel the obit. But hey – what a wake it might have been, huh?

Today’s post will be short and sweet, which may actually be a relief to many who read this blog! lol. I’ve been running non-stop for the last three days, with maybe 6 hours of sleep in 72. At the moment, I’m about to run out the door to a local high school, where I get to grab about 600 high school students by the collar, get their attention, then, hopefully, excite them enough to read. (Oh, in case you’re wondering, the last two days have been spent doing infomercials for a haunted house attraction, where I’ll be doing a presentation on paranormal investigations (pics and audio included). What a hoot that was. Pics for both events soon to come.

Yeah, I’m exhausted, but it’s part of the deal. It ain’t just about books anymore, kiddo!

Will send updates, pics, and even a YouTube soon!
deb

Please join me in welcoming Susan McBride, author of the popular Debutante Dropout Mysteries, and the forthcoming YA series, THE DEBS.

My name is Susan McBride, and I’m a workaholic. I’m one of those annoying Type As who can’t seem to sit still. I haven’t had a real vacation since God knows when. Yes, I’ve been called “The Energizer Bunny,” and, no, I haven’t been diagnosed with adult ADHD (yet).

Though I must confess, being a go-getter has come in handy. It sure helped when I had my first novel published by a small traditional press in 1999. Not that I’d expected a huge advertising budget spent on AND THEN SHE WAS GONE when only 2,500 copies were printed; but I guess I’d expected, um, something. What I quickly realized was that, if I wanted to sell more than fifty copies to family and friends, I’d have to promote like a maniac. It was definitely on-the-job training, nothing I could’ve learned in class. I put my public relations major to good use, learning my market and targeting mystery bookstores and regional media, somehow pushing GONE into a second printing. By the time OVERKILL came out, I had the ropes down pretty well. I’d concocted the Deadly Divas, four female mystery authors who toured together in boas and tiaras, and I’d developed a network of friends and acquaintances across the country who were willing to give me a hand (i.e., letting me sleep on their sofas during road trips).

With guidance from author-pals, I signed with an agent and soon had a contract with Avon for three books in my Debutante Dropout Mystery series. The first, BLUE BLOOD, debuted without fanfare in 2004 but caught on fast with bookstores and readers and went back to press even before its official pub date (and has returned to press three more times since). I quickly signed for two additional books, and, like clockwork, THE GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO MURDER, THE LONE STAR LONELY HEARTS CLUB, and NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEB followed suit, garnering a handful of award nominations and an actual win (a Lefty Award for Best Humorous Mystery that might be the only prize I’ll ever get).

It felt like a feast after 10 years of famine, and I toured like a woman possessed, going anywhere and everywhere I could to plug my books. My schedule got so crazed that I regularly boxed myself into a corner, often leaving just three months to write a book. I knew I was burning the candle at both ends, but the publicity whirl was so much fun. I was hooked.

Even after I met Ed in November of 2005 and realized I was seriously smitten, I didn’t slow the hectic pace of my life; though I started feeling the pull then, of wanting to stay home yet needing to be out there, smack in the middle of things. I probably would’ve kept it up, too, if it hadn’t been for that pesky breast cancer diagnosis just before Christmas in 2006. Nothing like being told you have a lump in your boob to put a brake on things, huh?

Suddenly, a giant STOP sign had been thrown up in my face and all that mattered was my health. My to-do list changed drastically. It no longer involved speaking gigs, book festivals and conventions, but seeing doctors, setting up surgery, and getting through 33 radiation treatments while finishing my fifth Deb Dropout Mystery, TOO PRETTY TO DIE, and writing THE DEBS, my first YA book for Delacorte. Yeah, even when I was being ordered to rest, I had work to do. I did cancel my trips to promote NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEB (released in February as I started rad therapy), which truly upset me. I sat down and cried, feeling like I was letting people down when I’d never missed a gig before, not once for any reason.

What I learned—and am still learning—is that I am not a robot. I simply can’t do everything. I cannot live with so much stress in my life that my neck is permanently stiff. Being forced to be a patient reminded me how much I missed having quiet times, how great it was not to live out of a suitcase, and how thoroughly and completely I loved the writing process. My passion for words is why I’d gotten into this crazy business in the first place. Suddenly, my desire to be Publicity Goddess seemed far less urgent.

The very wise Jerrilyn Farmer advised that I learn to be a Type A-minus, and, boy, I’m working on it. I’ve stopped trying to juggle so many balls at once, which has meant pulling back from unessential obligations. I’m staying home more, focusing on my writing (namely, the non-mystery YA series to debut next August with THE DEBS), planning my wedding, and spending more time with Ed. I used to be afraid to turn down gigs for fear I’d never be invited again, and now I’m comfortable saying, “No.” There’s something very scary—yet very freeing—about uttering that two-letter word when it used to be so anathema to me.

Perhaps some folks can do it all. Not me. Not anymore. I want to simplify my life, learn how to take it easy, and stop to smell the roses instead of trampling over them in my haste to get where I’m going. There’s nothing wrong with taking the scenic route after all—it might take a wee bit longer, but it’s a whole lot sweeter.

Cheers,
Susan

http://SusanMcBride.com

P.S. My breast cancer was a rare type—only 2% of cases—called mucinous carcinoma, typically found in older women. I’m fortunate that the prognosis was excellent from the start. I’m completely cancer-free and have been since January, and I made it through radiation with flying colors. I’ve been working out with a personal trainer to regain my strength, and I feel great. Did stress play a part in things? Who knows. But I think my ordeal was definitely a wake-up call, and, baby, I heard it loud and clear. Did I mention Ed and I are heading to a B&B next weekend (no laptops allowed)? Being a Type A-minus does have its benefits!