LUCY BURDETTE: We are sad to report that our Julia is deathly ill with the return of Covid. (Sounds like a horror movie doesn't it? it is!) While she rests and recovers, she urges the rest of us to get vaccinated! I got mine last week and yes, I felt lousy for a couple of days, but nothing like she's suffering.
Meanwhile, here's her gorgeous new cover, and a page to pre-order, and here's a link to her last writing post in case you didn't get a chance to read it...
DEBORAH CROMBIE: This (see below) is beginning to look like a book, but it doesn't quack like a book quite yet.
I was making such progress on my poor benighted Kincaid/James #20, the end, if not in sight, was at least just over the horizon. Then, the past month I have been derailed by a number of things, including tax stuff and an excruciating repetitive stress issue in my left shoulder.
Thankfully, the taxes are done, the shoulder is finally better, and now I have got to dig back into my book and make my tortoise-like way towards the finish line.
It is so difficult finding little snippets in a crime novel that don't give away some part of the plot, but here is another little domestic scene for you:
Gemma woke with a start. The space beside her in the bed
was empty and cold—Duncan must have been up for a while. Even Geordie was gone
from the foot of the bed. Squinting, she groped for her alarm and saw that it
had been turned off. Sounds began to filter in from the rest of the house, the
children’s raised voices, a bark from Tess. The smell of coffee drifted up the
stairs. “Bugger,” she whispered. She was late. Duncan should never have let her
sleep.
Slipping out of bed, she showered hurriedly, then dressed
once more in her new navy suit. She didn’t wear black, so navy was the closest
thing she had to a power suit if she was going to beard Pine in his office
first thing.
Downstairs, she found Duncan and all three children in the
kitchen, the children in their school uniforms and eating the last of toast and
soft boiled eggs, Duncan with a mug of coffee in one hand and a hairbrush in
the other as he tried to manage Charlotte’s curls. “Here, let me,” she said,
taking the brush and the hair elastic from him. “You shouldn’t have let me
sleep.”
“I thought you needed it. You looked exhausted last night.
And I’ll do the school run, don’t worry.” He wrapped an arm round her shoulder
and kissed her on the forehead. “You can have some toast and coffee in
peace when we’re gone.”
Wrinkling her nose, Gemma said, “Ugh, no. I’ll grab
something later. I need to go.” Finishing Charlotte’s hair, she leaned down to
give her a kiss. “There you go, lovey. You look like a princess.”
“I’m not a princess, I’m a unicorn,” Charlotte told her, a
frown creasing her small face.
Gemma had half expected Charlotte to protest her not taking
the school run, but instead Charlotte said, “Papa, we need to go. Miss Jane has
a surprise this morning and Oliver said we should be first.” Oliver was her
best friend and considered himself the leader of their daring duo.
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” Gemma stooped and tried to give
Charlotte a cuddle, but Charlotte jiggled impatiently. The boys were already
heading for the door, rucksacks swinging from their hands.
“Bye, Mum,” called Toby. “Are you taking me to ballet?”
“I’ll try,” said Gemma, knowing full well that it was
unlikely. “If I can’t, Bodie will take you.”
“Bye, Gem,” echoed Kit.
“I’ll ring you if we turn up anything.” Duncan waved at her
as he scooped up Charlotte’s backpack, and then they were gone.
It seemed like only yesterday that Gemma had had to carry a
weeping, protesting Charlotte up to the door of her of school so that Miss
Jane, the headmistress, could take her from her arms. She should be glad to see
Charlotte so independent—she was glad, she was glad to see all
the children so grown up and self-sufficient. But something in her felt it as a
loss, too, and tears pricked beneath her eyelids.
She shook her head in annoyance and blew her nose with a
sheet from the kitchen roll. Something about this case was making her feel
unusually emotional and that was a weakness she couldn’t afford.
As you can see from the photo, I still print a paper copy of my manuscript in progress, usually a chapter at a time. I find I catch a lot more mistakes on paper than I ever do on the screen--and there are always things that spell check doesn't catch.
And, also, I have to admit, seeing that growing stack of pages is both satisfying and encouraging. IT WILL BE A BOOK, it really will!
Fellow REDs and writer pals, do you still print paper drafts of your work in progress?
And readers, are there things that you find still work best on paper?
LUCY BURDETTE: The very biggest news for me was turning in my draft of Key West book number 16 last week! As you can imagine, my favorite words written were these:
I wrote about the opening of the story back in December. I’m having trouble figuring out what else I could share that wouldn’t result in unwelcome spoilers. So I’ll skip that snippet for the moment and tell you what I’m working on now. (I know I will see book 16 circle back to me for edits, but I’m not worrying about that until it hits my inbox.) I have four projects on my to do list, a murder mystery event for the Key West library, a possible murder mystery dinner for Williams Hall, a Key West noir short story, and my Paris novel. Yikes! What was I thinking?
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| Feb 2025, Ann Cleeves's Shetland murder mystery in Key West |
The second annual murder mystery for the Key West Friends, taking place February 7, 2026, will be something like the one we performed with Ann Cleeves last winter. This time, the reading will be based on a fictional contest between pastry chefs, who’ve all been asked to prepare desserts from the Key West Woman’s Club Cookbook. (The Friends of the Key West Library and the Key West Woman’s Club are co-sponsoring this event along with our wonderful library staff.) I’m the playwright (ulp) and it will begin with a moderator and four or five baker suspects. I’m imagining the event will open with something like this:
Moderator: Imagine that you are sitting in an auditorium at the Key West library, a room very much like this one. You see the pea green walls and old-fashioned photos of the island, and you can almost smell the beguiling scent of new books and imagine the hum of voices as clever librarians answer the challenging questions of their patrons. This time, you are not here for the books or the librarians or even the computers. You have paid good money to hear from bakers who have entered a contest to find the best pastry chef on the island. Their challenge has been to prepare amazing delicacies from the Key West Woman’s Club Cookbook.
But things have gone perilously wrong, and the front runner has been found poisoned to death. All the chefs who entered the contest are now murder suspects instead of prize winners. Your job will be to identify the real murderer. You will hear the protestations and confessions of the suspects, and then we’ll break for tea and voting. Once we re-convene to hear the true story, five winners will be awarded prizes.
There you go! A beginning and a long to-do list. When you have a list of projects, how do you choose where to start? Do you hop around from project to project, or power through one before tackling another?
