Is it a Mystery? Is it a Romance? No, it’s …

by Bill Kirton

Mystery and Romance – two genres which, on the surface, seem to operate in different dimensions and act on different parts of the psyche. In one, the bodice is ripped by the fumbling hands of a brooding, handsome gentleman whose hunger and love are matched by that of its wearer; in the other, the hands don’t fumble because they’re deliberate as they wield the razor of the serial killer who’s intent on adding another slice of flesh to the collection in his Sheraton mahogany display cabinet.

But both are subject to often strict conventions. For the most part, Romance calls for happy endings, but then so does Crime – well, endings anyway. The mystery must be solved, the culprit apprehended or punished in some other way. There are, of course, examples which subvert the rules, but we only recognise them because the rules are there. The point is that, in both genres, resolution is reached and fans are happy that their desires have been sated yet again.

In the end, though, the rules are only sacrosanct because the characters accept them as such. Romantic heroes and heroines believe in the possibility of happiness. Not only that, it’s a happiness which, according to the rules, will be eternal – happy ever after – a condition which, for (I’m guessing) the vast majority of real people, is unattainable. OK, so obstacles have appeared, but they’ve been overcome. So does that mean there won’t be any more? Probably not, so how can things be ‘happy ever after’. Does requited love really change the way the world works?

It’s hard to imagine a detective, faced with corpse after corpse, excess after excess in the books in which s/he features, having the same belief in the perfectibility of the species and a rosy outcome. And yet s/he works at solving the problems, bringing light where there was darkness. So the apparent bleakness suggested by all these misdeeds can be overcome. In a way, it’s illusory.

The more you look at it, the less cut and dried it seems to be. And I found this out for myself when a Crime novel of mine also became a Romance as I was writing it, mainly because, without any planning or direction on my part, two of the characters started being attracted to one another. At the end of the book, I wrote this:

Quickly, she raised her hands to his face and pulled him down towards her. As he leaned forward, he saw her lips part and then, suddenly, felt them warm and soft against his own. It was a lover’s kiss.

But that was all. Their social stations were different and no decisions had been made about their future conduct. The woman had the impulse to kiss the man and that was that. And it's generated a problem because, at the moment, I'm working on the sequel, which is set a year later, so what have they been doing meantime? The year is 1842 so they didn't have the freedoms we now enjoy, neither really wants to get married (yet anyway) and there's another murder to be solved. But until I (or they) work out what they've been doing over the past twelve months, I can't make much progress.

I'm not a Romance writer but, as has been said many times by many people, it’s the characters who drive the plot. So let’s try it. I’ll pluck a name out of the air – Marie-Rose Tremaine. There. I won’t describe her because you, the reader, prefer to shape her to your fancy. The name is slightly exotic, certainly, but it could equally be that of a simple Cornish girl. Remember Tess Durbeyfield, a.k.a. Tess of the D’Urbervilles, and look what became of Norma Jeane Mortenson.

Now let’s put her in a setting and see how she decides what the book will be. She’s standing by a gate at the edge of a field at sunset. In the corner of the field is a crumbling old barn. But the view is beautiful, it brings out all her yearnings for the love and affection she never got from her father, a retired Field Marshal. She sighs at the beauty of it all but her musing is interrupted by footsteps. She turns and sees a tall, handsome man walking towards her down the lane, a shotgun cradled over his arm.

Now over to you. Is it a Romance, a Mystery? What happens next?

The Perils of Writing a Book

By June Shaw

I wasn't sure whether to call this post "The Perils of Writing a Book" or -- "The Perils of Cleaning Your House."

Why? you might ask.

Because one morning a month ago I sat at my desk in front of my computer and realized I wanted information from a piece of paper I'd placed on the floor to the right of my chair the evening before. Thus, with a smile, I twisted to the right from my seated position to grab that paper and zing -- excrutiating pain shot from my back and traveled down my left leg to my toes.

I took pain meds and muscle relaxers for two weeks but could still barely stand the pain. During that time, my left foot began to flop.

Eventually I was sent for an MRI, which showed I had a badly herniated disc. That, along with what I discovered was called foot drop in my left foot, made a neurosurgeon immediately schedule me for surgery.

I felt SO much better after the surgery, no pain in that leg and just about no foot drop. I was ordered to lie down for two weeks. Yes, I told him I was a writer and my computer... And he said No - No sitting, just rest.

Monday I went back to him after the two weeks, and he said okay, I could sit. "Go write another book," he told me. Yes!

I'm so far behind with everything but so almost pain free. And I guarantee you that when a sheet of paper falls to the floor, I leave it. (For the next month I need to be cautious and not bend over or lift anything heavy. A fork is just the right weight, I think.) My two grown daughters and my squeeze Bob have taken great care of me, and I would suggest to anyone that it's not good to twist the wrong way or twist and bend. I've been fortunate to live pain free most of my life, so I'm especially grateful.

During my month of pain and then lying down, the third book in my series, DEADLY REUNION, was released as an ebook from all distributors. And Harlequin, who'd bought reprint rights for their Worldwide Mystery division, also released it in paperback this week.

I'm trying to add both covers to show you but can't figure out how, and my brain and back are tired. I hope you'll check them out. And please excuse any errors in this post. I'm not up to proofreading it now. Anyway, I'm learning to avoid any work while I can: )

Best, June

Misleading cover art

by Carola

I've already posted the covers of the Polish translations of my Daisy Dalrymple mysteries, and commented on the black cat that infests them though not appearing in the books http://murderousmusings.blogspot.com/2013/08/daisy-in-polish.html

This is a much more misleading cover:

The Hebrew translation of Mayhem and Miranda, one of my Regencies. Unless they drastically altered the text in translating it, the pic has nothing whatever to do with the story.

Anyone buying the book expecting a bodice-ripper would be sorely disappointed. What's more, they spelled my name--I'm told--Carol Deen.
 

 This original paperback cover and the ebook cover on the right are far more appropriate.







That was probably the most downright wrong cover I've had, being of the wrong genre, but over the years there has been plenty of just-not-quite-right art.





Of my mysteries, the worst (twice) is Requiem for a Mezzo, the third Daisy Dalrymple mystery.

From this, wouldn't you reckon the victim was a blonde in a red dress? Or, according to the UK edition, a brunette in a blue dress?

 The audio version thinks it was a blonde in a black dress.

My mother, for one, kept switching between text and cover of the first one, thoroughly confused because it's actually a blonde in a blue dress.
 










This cover is really cute: the three-year-old, black-haired like her Spanish mother, is adorable. (We'll ignore the fact that the hero and heroine ought to be watching her and stopping her from feeding a swan--a highly dangerous act!)

Its sequel takes place about three months later. In the meantime the darling little girl has aged by five years or so and bleached her hair:

Odd!

       The ebook cover----> is perfect. I was browsing in a thrift shop in England when I found a print of an artillery officer of the British Army in the Napoleonic era. That's what Captain Ingram is. My Regency ebook publisher used
it, so this is just right.







One that I can't show you because I managed to get it changed is the hardcover of Dead in the Water, the 6th Daisy mystery. It's set in Henley-on-Thames, a small, pretty town 35 miles or so west of London. Luckily my editor sent me a preview--which doesn't always happen. The art showed St Paul's, Tower Bridge, Big Ben... I can't actually remember which London landmarks, but several were squished in. I squealed loudly (via email) and he asked the art department why they'd done it. They said it was to show the book took place in England! As the previous 5 of the series had also taken place in England, it seemed an insufficient reason. They changed it. It's not a very attractive cover but at least it's not apparently set in London.

I could go on practically without end, but don't worry, I won't. Just one more art department decision.



They changed the title of The Actress and the Rake, and asked why, said it was too long. THREE LETTERS they couldn't fit in, apparently. I could have.

So don't ask an author why the cover doesn't fit the book. It's not his/her fault!

Is It Soup Yet?

By Mark W. Danielson

Remember the commercial where the kids keep asking if the soup is done?  The answer is never clear, but at some point their mom announces, “It’s soup!”  In writing, the same principle applies.  People keep asking when your next book will be out and then one day you announce it’s done.  Of course, how cooks, authors and publishers determine “when” will forever remain a mystery.

My latest novel was just released a week ago, so by chef’s standards, Spectral Gallows must be done.  I’m proud of the story.  It's a perfect blend of reality and fiction with a little help from the netherworld.  Of course, each reader will have to decide if the recipe suits their taste.

But let’s put Spectral Gallows aside for a moment and return to the writing process.  For most authors, it takes at least a year to write, edit, submit, review, edit, review, correct, and then resubmit a story.  By the time their book is released, the author has read so many times they are blind.  And it seems that no matter how many times proof readers have gone through the manuscript, someone always seems to find another typo.  Holding that thought, let’s compare this to picking mushrooms from a lasagna serving.  (Okay, I admit it.  I hate mushrooms.)  A person can spend an entire meal trying to pick those little suckers out, but inevitably one will end up in their mouth.  At that point you have two choices – swallow it or make a scene.  In writing, you either swallow your pride and accept a potential error or risk your career by ignoring your deadlines.  It isn’t until your reviews come in that you realize most people accept typos, so long as the story is good.  That’s why positive reviews validate your writing and warm the heart.  

Recently, I learned that several people were talking my book up and as a result I have a pending radio interview so I must be doing something right.  If you enjoy murder mysteries involving the paranormal and quantum theory, give Spectral Gallows a look, then settle into a nice bowl of soup.  Both are pretty cozy on a cool fall night.          

Carolyn Hart's Ghost Gone Wild

 

Bestselling author Carolyn Hart's fourth ghost mystery was released last month featuring Bailey Ruth, a readheaded ghost who returns to earth to solve mysteries. 

Carolyn, what prompted you to write the series?

 

I grew up loving Topper and Blithe Spirit. I always wanted to write a book with a happy fun ghost.

I had an idea about a young woman, rather prim, who was in the attic not long before her wedding. She finds an old trunk and while exploring it, discovers that she was a twin but her twin died at birth. This realization brings back her twin, who is feisty, unconventional, and a bit on the wild side.
But then I realized I needed to think about ghosts. Who are they and how could this ghost appear? I pondered the fact that a ghost is the spirit of someone who has died and gone to Heavan. That led to thinking about Heaven and before I knew it, I'd popped in my mind to Heaven and around a cumulous cloud came a freewheeling redheaded ghost and her name was Bailey Ruith Raeburn and she wasn't anyboy's twin and here was her story . . .

That was Ghost at Work. Now Bailey Ruth appears in her fourth adventure and she's still having fun.
 Thank you, Carolyn. Here's what
Thank you, Carolyn. Publisher's Weekly has this to say about Ghost Gone Wild:

Carolyn Hart’s “irresistible cozy sleuth” is back—good-hearted ghost Bailey Ruth Raeburn just can’t say no to an earthly rescue, even when maybe she should.

Bailey Ruth loves to return to earth as an emissary from Heaven’s Department of Good Intentions. Problem is, she’s a bit of a loose cannon as far as ghosts go—forgetting to remain invisible, alarming earthly creatures—so she’s far from the top of department head Wiggins’s go-to list for assignments.

That’s why she’s surprised when the Heaven-sent Rescue Express drops her off at a frame house on the outskirts of her old hometown, Adelaide, Oklahoma, where a young man is playing the drums. What kind of rescuing does he need—drum lessons? But when a window cracks and a rifle barrel is thrust inside, only Bailey Ruth’s hasty intervention saves Nick Magruder from taking a bullet. When she materializes to reassure him, she finds she can’t go back to vanishing. What gives?

It turns out she’s been tricked by Nick’s late aunt—Delilah Delahunt Duvall—to come to the young man’s rescue, which means she isn’t back on earth in service of the department. Wiggins has no idea where she is—and now she may be trapped in Adelaide forever. Unless she can help Aunt Dee snare the person who wants her nephew dead.

Nick's doting Aunt Dee engineered this mission on the sly, Bailey Ruth must operate on earth without her otherworldly powers. When Nick is accused of a murder, she must rely on her wits alone to clear him. Though not fully developed, the secondary characters have some amusing quirks, and even the villain, who's not readily identifiable, has a certain charm. The well-constructed plot offers an ample supply of red herrings. Fans of benign ghosts such as those in Blithe Spirit and Topper will find a lot to like.  

~Jean Henry Mead

Halloween Fun: MAKE ME HOWL

by Jackie King

Today I have an early Halloween treat for you! Susan Shay, one of my favorite people and also a darned good writer, discusses her latest book, a Fantasy titled MAKE ME HOWL. She starts with an example of how her main character, Jazzy, takes over her computer and her life.

Susan Shay

~~~~~~

 

 

Jazzy Takes Control:

Hi!

My name is Jazzy Cannis. I'm a successful wardrobe designer and personal shopper. Lucky me! I was born with a killer sense of style, biting sense of humor and an active Lycan gene. A very active Lycan gene.

I had life all figured out. I just had to stay in control all the time. I couldn't get too angry, too wild or too excited while making love or I'd wolf out. No prob.

Enter Chase Holliday, serious hunk. Mr. Always-In-Total-Control is an animal geneticist who's out to eradicate every werewolf on the planet. He thinks safety lies in making werewolves only the stuff of fairytales. To reach that goal, he works every spare moment isolating the Lycan gene.

Then he met me. The man in the iron will thought he could handle this wild woman. Snort!

I just made one little mistake—I forgot about the Blood Moon and, being in heat, I lost control and made love with Chase. That's when I learned that all wolves, even Lycans, mate for life.

Eternity with an emotionally crippled, uber restrained cold duck who barely registers a response when we make love? I don't think so. Even if it kills me, I'll find a way out. Or I'll Make him Howl.

~~~~~

Susan Regains Gains Control:

Susan here. Well, Jazzy got my laptop again. Sorry about that. J Not really. Jazzy's fun to hang with, so I don't really mind.

I don't know if non-writers hear voices in their heads, but writers definitely do. (My critique partners laugh because mine are so real to me.) While some of my inside-my-head characters are great to talk to when I need sleep, Jazzy isn't one.

Why? Well, she's always got some snarky remark, which keeps me on my toes. (Not a great position for sleep.) In order to gain a thimbleful of control, I wrote her book, MAKE ME HOWL, and I turned her loose.

Big! Mistake! LOL.

Releasing a werewolf on purpose is never a good thing. But it's—uh—interesting.

People ask where I got the idea for MAKE ME HOWL. The truth is, Marilyn Pappano. She send me a chapter of a light paranormal trilogy she considered writing and I loved it. It was fun and funny. Just the kind of thing I wanted to write. But I wanted mine to be different.

I started brainstorming story ideas. What iconic paranormal characters could I take over and give a twist to come up with a fun and funny story?

And so, Jazzy was born. Once she came into being, she took off. Below is an excerpt where Jazzy talks to her twin sister, Bella:

~~~~~

I took a moment to settle myself, to find my center. Arranging my hair so I was well covered, I got to my knees, then sat on my heels. “You know, last night, when you and Doc abandoned me, Norman became a huge pest. He kept at me, wanting me to dance with him.”

Bella’s “Um” irritated me. Annoyance tingled my exposed skin, running along my collarbone and down the insides of my arms.

 “He wouldn’t leave me alone. It was so gross.” I straightened as angry lightning strikes marched down my back.

 “Then he insisted I finish my drink because he wanted to buy me another. Bella, I thought I was going to have to decapitate him to get him to leave me alone. I decided to just take off and let you find another way home. But after I finished my drink—and I only had the one Doc bought me—I don’t remember anything. It’s as if I got lost in the night.”

I gathered my fury like a fiery orb in my chest. “You know I never have a memory lapse except during a blood moon phase or if I lose control. I wasn’t that angry.” A simple full moon hadn’t done that to me since I was three years old.

“That son of a cur must have slipped me a roofie. Why else would I have been out of control?” I allowed my rage to explode as I thought about the man putting a date rape drug in my drink.

My body stung as the bristles burst through my skin, but I exalted in the sensation as my face narrowed, then lengthened. I loved the feeling of my body shifting from human to wolf shape. There’s never anything better than the power surge as it filled my muscles.

It’s exhilarating.

~~~~~

Thanks to all of you readers and to Jackie King for having Jazzy and me here on your blog. I love it here in mystery world! It's a cozy, wonderful place to hang out.
I'm giving away a FREE BOOK! To get your name in the drawing all you have to do is leave a comment here or on my MAKE ME HOWL Facebook Page. Links below.

 

Make Me Howl is for sale for only $2.99 now on Kindle!

 

~~~~~

On November 15^th, 2013, MAKE ME HOWL will be on sale in other formats (including real books!) I don't know the price, but it will be available on Amazon and at Wild Rose Press.

~~~~~

I'd love to meet you! You can find me occasionally on Twitter--@shaywriter

And more often on Facebook— http://facebook.com/susanspessshay

As well as the Make Me Howl Facebook page— http://facebook.com/makemehowl

Or come by my website and say hi. http://susanshay.net

~~~~~

Special Note:

Thanks so much to Susan and her delightful character, Jazzy. And to all my readers, HAPPY HALLOWEEN

 

I know it's a week early, but if you love a holiday, then you need to celebrate!

Hugs to all,

 

Jackie

 

A Scientific Interlude

by Bill Kirton

Away from the usual self-advertising and PR plugs for a change. Two items I read a while back – one on a website, the other in The Observer – set up some scientific musings. Science to me usually means fascinating things which I don’t understand, but it often leads to trains of thought I wouldn’t otherwise have.

The first item was about chromosomes. I know, of course, that they’re made of DNA and proteins and carry our genes. When I checked Wikipedia, there was stuff about regulatory elements, nucleotide sequences, eukaryotic and prokaryotic cells as well, but (as they keep saying in the film Airplane), that’s not important right now. What is important is that we (humans) have 46 of them. But – and this is the interesting bit – it’s also possible that we have 48. And why is that interesting? Well, we all know that chimpanzees also have 48, but – and this time it really is the interesting bit – so do potatoes.

In the evolutionary ladder, therefore, we are on a par with potatoes. (The temptation at this point is to digress into the class structure implicit in varieties such as King Edward, Belle de Fontenay, Duke of York and Saxon. I'll resist it.)

The second piece of science, however, offers hope that such parity will soon change because stem cell researchers in Edinburgh have succeeded in cultivating brain cells. Not by sucking out real brain cells and prodding them, or from the practice of using bits of embryos, which upsets so many people who think only God should do that, but by doing stuff with skin cells. (‘Prodding’ and ‘Doing stuff with’ are scientific terms.) Thus, we can look forward to a future in which our descendants are clothed not in skin but in brains, which will give us a clear edge over our potato cousins who, even if they did manage to follow our evolutionary lead, would still get peeled and thereby lose their ability to think.

To some of you, this may seem a frivolous misuse and indeed misappropriation of important scientific advances, but I take my lead from one of the greats of British comedy, Tommy Cooper, whose use of statistics was exemplary. He once revealed the following:

“Apparently, 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. There are five people in my family, so it must be one of them. It’s either my mum or my dad, my older brother Colin, or my younger brother Ho-Cha-Chu. (Pause.) I think it’s Colin.”