My Double Life
by Lorraine (L.L.) Bartlett, also known as Lorna Barrett

I’ve written before about my “double” writing life. I write the Jeff Resnick psychological suspense novels as L.L. Bartlett and the Booktown Mysteries (cozy series) as Lorna Barrett.

In some ways they’re as different as night and day. The Jeff books are written from a first person, male point of view. The Booktown series is written from a third person, female (Tricia Miles) point of view. The common denominator: both protagonists have strong relationships with a sibling. For Jeff it’s his brother Richard. For Tricia, it’s her sister, Angelica.

There’s nothing “girly” about these characters. (Especially not Jeff.) And while Tricia is a woman, she’s not overly feminine. She doesn’t care much about clothes. Like me, she’d rather sit back and read a good book. (Preferably a classic mystery.)

But something weird has been happening to me, in the past couple of years. I’ve been developing girly tendencies. Like wearing nail polish. And reading shabby chic decorating books.

Mind you, I was the middle child between two brothers–and was pretty much a tomboy. We played “cars,” Man From Uncle (I fell through a glass door once because I didn’t want to drop the “Lugar” my brother had made out of a couple of pieces of wood), and I even beat up a couple of the neighborhood boys.

My parents didn’t want to rob me of my childhood, so when I got to junior high, and all the girls were shaving their legs and wearing make-up, they said I couldn’t. (BIG POUT.) So, I wore knee socks, and after I discovered Star Trek, I didn’t care about blush, eye shadow, and getting an eyelash curler anyway.

I think they came to regret that edict. During my high school years, I was labeled GEEK in screaming big letters. I’d carry my Star Trek books and write weird stories to give to my friends. Oh, and I didn’t wear a dress for like six years (until I was in college and went to a wedding). I had hair down to my backside, usually worn in braids, and lived in jeans and T-shirts.

My first job was as a secretary in a three-person print shop, and there was no reason to dress up. I worked next as a production worker in a machine shop. For that I wore work boots, a blue work shirt, overalls and a bandana (which kept most of the metal chips out of my hair). I held that job for 18 months, and boy did I learn to swear like a sailor. (Which came in handy for writing working class heroes.)

Eventually, I started wearing more “womanly” clothes (including dresses) when I got my first decent-paying job. And when I met the man I’d eventually marry, I lost weight and wore cute little sun dresses (although still not much make-up–I never really figured out how to apply it.) On more than one occasion hubby has told me: “You really don’t know how to be a girl, do you?” Well, gee. I was always writing action/adventure stories usually featuring male protagonists. Not much room in those for lace and perfume, is there?

Since I became a full-time writer (okay, maybe not full-time–I do goof off a lot) almost three years ago, I’ve started getting interested in more girly stuff. See, I had to go out and promote my first book (Murder on The Mind.) I have very fair skin, so in order not to look … well, dead … I had to wear blush. Then I noticed that all my women friends wore nail polish. I started with my toes, and the next thing you know, I started wearing it on my fingernails. And while I’ve had my ears pierced since I was 23, I never really cared much about earrings. But suddenly–I started buying them. A lot of them. And bracelets, too.

And while I’ve been an admirer of Country decorating for over a decade, I really started incorporating it into my home (much to my husband’s chagrin). I got a candle warmer (so I could work with lovely scents in the air), and started reading Romantic Homes magazine. And in the last few months have discovered the wonderful world of shabby chic blogging. As if I didn’t read enough blogs (by my favorite authors), now I’m reading “Icing on the Cake” and devouring the pictures of her pretty pink-and-white kitchen.

Maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe it’s not. Maybe I need to start writing a new series about a woman who goes from tomboy to interior decorator — and finds bodies while she’s putting up lace curtains and painting everything in sight off-white or pale pink.

That sounds like a good plan, right?

L.L. Bartlett’s latest book is DEAD IN RED, 2nd in the Jeff Resnick mystery series, which should be available any day now at online book sites. Lorna Barrett’s first book is MURDER IS BINDING, which is available everywhere.

My mother was so mad at me. She was reading Face Time, the second Charlotte McNally Mystery. She called me, nothing unusual. But it was her tone that was unusual. “I’m reading—your book,” she said. Her tone was more like: “I’m holding—a bug.”

Mom is terrific. She’s almost 80, and is absolutely beautiful. An artist, a reader, a wonderful intellect. (She doesn’t have a computer, so she’s not reading this.) I’m her oldest daughter, and any psychologist will tell you that can cause some friction.

So anyway. I had hoped to chat with her a bit, prepare her, before she started Face Time. But, things happened and life got in the way. Why is Mom mad? She thinks I’ve “used her for art.”

It’s true: Charlie McNally’s mother in Face Time is a bit—persnickety. She’s opinionated. She thinks, for instance, that Charlotte might want to give up her very successful 20-year TV career to marry some tycoon and become a tycoon wife. No matter that Charlie is happy with the personal life (pretty happy, at least, for a 46-year-old single woman who is married to her job) and happy with her professional life (pretty happy, at least, even though she’s fearful she’s gong go be replaced by someone younger). Mom also thinks Charlotte (she refuses to call her Charlie, saying, “nicknames are for stuffed animals and men who play sports”) might want to visit the plastic surgeon for some face time of her own.

Now Mrs. McNally is not, I repeat, not, my mother. But in these days of controversy over whether books that are purported to be memoirs are actually true—I find myself fighting to convince her that my book is truly fiction.

It’s ALL MADE UP, I tell her. Yes, Charlie has a Mom, and I have a Mom. But I’m not Charlie and she’s not you.

Silence on the other end of the phone.

“Of course it’s me, dear,” she finally says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

I’ve worked in television for thirty years. And yes, I watched Mary Tyler Moore, and did indeed recognize some Ted Baxter qualities in a few anchor people (men AND women) I’ve known over the years. And Murphy Brown, too. The smart but aging investigative reporter Murphy could be Charlie McNally’s older sister. But those characters, though based on qualities real people in newsrooms may have, are fictional. Made up.

Digression: You know those ‘something meets something’ descriptions authors are supposed to come up with for their books? (Like you’re supposed to say: “My book is about a crime-fighting but fashionable deep-sea fishergirl—sort of Jaws meets The Devil Wears Prada.”) Because of the success of the secret-code element of The Da Vinci Code, I wanted to characterize Prime Time, my first Charlie book, as “Dan Brown meets Murphy Brown.” A bigwig in the publishing biz told me that was no good–because one knows who Murphy Brown is.

Anyway. Then there’s the husband situation. My dear Jonathan, a criminal defense and civil rights attorney, is nothing like, looks nothing like, behaves nothing like, the possible love interests in the books. Still. He can’t bear to read the “mushy parts” and can’t bear to hear bout what Charlie does or even thinks about, when it comes to men.

IT’S ALL MADE UP, I tell him. There have to be men involved, this is romantic suspense. But Charlie’s men are not you.

Silence. “Of course they are,” he says. “Or even worse, old boyfriends. And I don’t want to read about that.”

And finally, there’s the “Is Charlie McNally you” question. And I must admit that one stops me. Yes, Charlie’s an investigative reporter for a Boston TV station. And I am, too. And it would be silly to waste thirty years of TV experience—that’s what (I hope) make Charlie’s life seem authentic. But she’s younger. More confident. And fictional. And yes, okay, things that happen to Charlie have happened to me–in a—way. But she can say things I could never say, reveal things I could never reveal, and I must say, I’ve never actually been in the life-threateningly frightening situations Charlie has. Chased? Yes. Threatened? Yes. Punched? Almost. That stopped when I said to my photographer: “make sure you’re rolling on this.”

It’s hard for the bad guys to get away with it if their assault is caught on camera.

Anyway. So I’m wondering, do any of you have a problem with this? Do people “recognize” themselves in your books—and you have to convince them it’s a fictional character they’re recognizing? Would you “use” someone for “art”?

Or if you’re a reader, do you assume fictional characters are real people just put on paper?

And as it turns out—as Mom will find out if she’ll just get to the end of the book—Face Time is not only a mystery, and a romance, but kind of a love story between mothers and daughters. My editor said she had tears in her eyes at the end. One reviewer told me she cried. (Which is odd, you have to admit, in a murder mystery.)

Yes, as authors we take elements of reality. Then we polish, and tweak, and exaggerate, and accessorize. But the fun is making up something completely new. Creating a new world. New characters and new relationships. And it’s ALL MADE UP.

Okay, Mom?

Do you have a contentious relationship with your mother? (or daughter?) Do you understand each other?

Award-winning investigative reporter Hank Phillippi Ryan is currently on the air at Boston’s NBC affiliate, where she’s broken big stories for the past 22 years. Her stories have resulted in new laws, people sent to prison, homes removed from foreclosure, and millions of dollars in refunds and restitution for consumers.

These last few weeks have been contemplatively philosophical for me. I’m not sure if it’s because I have been slammed with this deadline, the release of JADED and MASTER OF SURRENDER just a week apart, promoting like a slave, or if it’s just hormonal or all of the above. But the fact of the matter is, I have been thinking. A lot. About people. Mostly about the outpouring of support and friendship this last month and not just from my family, or from friends I have known both in person and online for years, but also from new friends. New faces who are genuine, good folks. Quite frankly, I have been overwhelmed by it. And, I wanted to say, “Thank you.”

I don’t know why I am always surprised by all of the goodness out here. I believe most people are good. So why when a complete stranger does something nice for me I am surprised? Most people would say, “Because they want something from you.” Maybe but so what? All it could be as simple as wanting a connection. Is that so hard to give? Not for me. So, for whatever the reason, I want to again say, “Thank you, to my old friends who have weathered many a storm with me, to my news friends who have no idea what they are in for, and to my future friends. Thank you for your encouragement, cheers, smiles and visits, whether it’s here, my blog, the Fog City Divas or wherever I may find myself as a guest.”

Now as a token of my appreciation, I have a gift for a commenter. Not a gift card or books, but memorable gift from one friend to another, all you have to do is comment, a simple hello will do or you can tell us who your best friend is and why.

So the gift is an original Poppy Laurel Believe necklace. It’s hand made by my dear friend Poppy. I have one, and I swear it gives me good luck. We all need to keep believing no matter where we are in life or our careers. So, comment away and Sunday night I will pick a winner!

And FYI, Poppy had gone to bed long before I wrote this, so hopefully when she gets up she’ll send me a link to a picture of the necklace (and I’ll add it to the blog since I have no clue how to upload a picture here). The piece is simple and elegant and would look fabulous on any of your necks!

PS, over at Fog City Divas, Diva Bella Andre asked my ITALIAN STALLIONS antho partner Jami Alden and I a few questions. We had fun with it, swing by.

This one is going to be fun, so join in and you could WIN BIG.

The rules: You must answer EACH question CORRECTLY to be put into the final drawing. You can do it. They are not that hard, and all you have to do is spend a little bit of time getting to know the regular and guest bloggers are MurderSheWrites.com. You have until Sunday, July 6, 2008 to enter the contest. You must send an email with your completed answers to mswcontest@gmail.com. Do NOT post your answers on the blog, because if you do, duh, everyone else will have them and won’t have to look for them! However, once you have sent your entry, come back to this post and type in “I entered the contest! I’m cool.” Just kidding. You don’t have to write that. Just tell us however you wish that you have entered the contest. You can even write “DONE.”

So that’s it. It’s not that hard, and you can win a prize basket with books from the authors listed below, goodies, and gift cards worth over $200!

To recap, you must:

1. Answer all the questions correctly.
2. Send your answers to mswcontest@gmail.com
3. Come back to the blog, to THIS post, and tell us you have entered!

That’s it! So ready, set, scavenge.

1. What was Karin Tabke’s husband’s former job?
2. What does Karin consider a “quickie,” at least according to her Web site?
3. Where was Deborah LeBlanc born?
4. Does Deborah like math?
5. What happened five days after the birth of Allison Brennan’s first baby?
6. How many children does Allison have?
7. How did Jennifer Apodaca meet her husband?
8. Who is Jennifer Lyon?
9. Where did Natalie R. Collins work for eleven years?
10. Who is Natalie R. Collins’s alter ego?
11. If Toni McGee Causey was granted one wish, what would it be?
12. Where the heck does Toni live, anyway?
13. Where is Felicia Donovan’s police department based?
14. What sort of spider features prominently in Felicia’s title?
15. What really cool prize did Hank Phillipi Ryan just win?
16. What do most people “not know” about Hank?
17. What kind of a doctor is CJ Lyons?
18. What is the name of CJ’s blog?
19. What is the name of Denise Hamilton’s new book, coming out in July?
20. What did Denise do before she became a novelist?
21. What two names does Lorraine Bartlett write under?
22. What are two of the fascinating jobs Lorraine has held?

by Toni McGee Causey

I understand why non-writers ask the question, “Where do you get your ideas?” Because that’s exactly how I feel when I see someone present a beautiful meal. My brain just does not work that way. Oh, I can force it, and end up with a decent effort, kinda like most people feel about those college essays, but it’s not my talent.

Instead, I have completely and totally mastered the art of using my microwave. It is nearly 20 years old and the only appliance in the house I know how to use.

I tried to cook. I don’t understand how this works, really. I’m addicted to those cooking competition shows where they give the chefs three pieces of cardboard, some jelly and limp celery and tell them they have to cook a divine meal for 300, and somehow, they pull it off. When I watch this, it’s like a magic show—I’m trying to catch the sleight-of-hand and figure out how they’re doing this, and still I am only able to see the cute bunnies.

Once, when the kids were younger, I decided to cook jambalaya, but I knew my limitations. Instead of trying to do one from scratch, I picked up a box mix and followed the directions. I think. I may have gotten distracted.

When it came time to eat, it looked fine. I scooped up two bowlfuls, set them in front of the kids and wandered back to the kitchen, whereupon the youngest made gagging, spitting sounds and the oldest declared that I was trying to kill them. (The oldest routinely suggested this from the time I wrapped him in aluminum foil for Halloween and declared him the Tin Man. He still brings that up every year, 20 years later.)

I scoffed. It couldn’t be that bad.

They tried to feed it to the dog, who took one bite, whimpered and ran out of the room. But she’s a wimp. She is scared of her own bark (I am not kidding), so I didn’t exactly trust her judgment here.

I would like to say in my defense that I, uh, had a cold. And couldn’t smell or taste anything. (That is my story and I’m sticking to it.) When I tried a spoonful, it wasn’t the greatest thing I ever cooked, but it wasn’t that bad, I thought. Still, the kids were adamant that they weren’t going to eat any of it, and they weren’t really picky kids, so I thought I’d cut them some slack and throw it out and we’d order pizza.

While we waited for the pizza to show up, I wanted to throw away the jambalaya; not having a disposal handy meant I’d have to toss it in the garbage, and we had raccoons from a creek behind our property who’d come up to the house and dig after anything remotely garbage like or food-like in the cans. I didn’t feel like fighting the coons or dealing with strewn trash, so the easiest thing to do was to set the pot out and let them have at it.

We sat on the top back step and watched as the big cat-daddy of all raccoons—one who clearly had not passed up a meal—came forward to the pot, slid his paw in, took a bite, spat it out and ran away.

My oldest son looked at me, and said, “See? You tried to feed us that.”

So yeah… me and the microwave. I am pretty sure I can’t screw up a can of soup.

So how about you? Can you cook? Or are you like me, Ingrediently Challenged?

~*~

The second book in the BOBBIE FAYE series is out now! BOBBIE FAYE’S (kinda, sorta, not exactly) FAMILY JEWELS — Bobbie Faye has to go on the run, trying to stay ahead of a pack of thieves and murderers who are after missing gems. She has to find the diamonds and figure out the motive of the dead-sexy FBI agent who’s pressing her for more than just the jewels, all the while sidestepping her steamy (and steamed) detective ex-boyfriend. For reviews (including a starred Booklist, woot!) and an excerpt, please visit http://tonimcgeecausey.com.