Hear the latest from:
Hallie Ephron Monday
Hank Phillippi Ryan Tuesday
Rhys Bowen Wednesday
Lucy Burdette Thursday
Deborah Crombie Friday
Julia Spencer Fleming Saturday
Sunday: what we're reading.
Since I write two books a year, the breather is always very short--especially since I write historical novels and they all require a lot of research. For example Queen of Hearts takes place on a transatlantic liner and then in 1930s Hollywood. Yes, I did suffer for my craft by taking the Queen Mary across the Atlantic last year!
So now I'm in pre-writing mode for my next Molly book. I have already decided that the next Molly story will be about Freud's interpretation of dreams--he had just published his book on the subject--and will feature a young girl who can remember nothing about a horrific crime but is having vivid and violent dreams. Can a dream psychologist who has just trained with Professor Freud interpret what really happened that night?
So I'm reading, or rather wading through, Freud's actual book on dream interpretation. Then more books on the history of psychology. I decided to write about this as one of the most exciting courses I took in college was on dream psychology. We were taught universal dream symbols and how psychologists use dream symbols to help interpret troubled people. I've used my knowledge ever since to interpret my own dreams. Who knew that college could actually be useful at last?
Anyway, the book will be called Beautiful Dreamer and may involve Molly's dreams too.
But since I haven't started writing it yet I'm going to tease you with a snippet of Queen of Hearts, due out next August. It's a great segue from Hallie's next book as it takes place mainly in 1930s Hollywood. But this scene is on the transatlantic liner:
EXCERPT FROM QUEEN OF HEARTS, (Berkley Prime Crime, August 2014)
I looked up in horror as Algie staggered toward me again. He had now taken off his visor and was looking rather bleary eyed. “I say, Georgie. Care to trip the light fantastic again?” he asked. “it’s a slow waltz this time. Nothing too violent.” But he pronounced the word as “schlow,” and swayed as he said it, nearly knocking over our table.
“You know I think it’s time you went to bed, Algie,” I said. “If you try to dance again it will be another of your disasters.”
“You may be right, old bean,” he said. “The room is swaying around a bit. Is that me or the ship tilting?”
“It’s you,” I said. “Come on. I’ll lead you out.”
We crossed the ballroom without any major mishaps. “Which deck is your cabin on?” I asked.
“Oh, so is mine.”
I led him down one flight of stairs and pointed him in the direction of his cabin. Without warning he grabbed me and I found myself on the receiving end of a horribly slobbery kiss. Actually it reminded me of a Labrador we’d had when I was little—but not as pleasant. I struggled to push him away.
“What do you think you’re doing, Algie?”
“Only a little kiss, old bean. For old times sake, don’t you know?”
“Just because I was helping you to your cabin didn’t mean that I was inviting that sort of behavior.”
He was still holding me round the waist. “But dash it all, Georgie. You’re a girl and I’m a healthy, red-blooded male and my Pater is always telling me to seize the moment, so I did.”
I didn’t quite know whether to laugh or be indignant. “Sorry, but that doesn’t include seizing me. Go on, off to bed.”
“Speaking of beds,” he said, eyeing me with what he hoped was a lecherous leer, “I say. You wouldn’t fancy a spot of the old rumpy pumpy would you? Seeing that our cabins are so close to each other.”
“Thanks awfully, but no,” I replied. This time I couldn’t stifle the grin.
“That’s what all the girls say. They tell me American girls are easier. God, I hope so.” And off he staggered, down the passageway.I was going to turn in myself but my own head felt a bit fuzzy from the cocktails so I went out onto the deck and stood at the railing. An almost full moon was shining on the black water, highlighting the white caps of the wake. Sounds of the orchestra playing that slow waltz floated out to me. I stood there, staring out to sea, feeling melancholy and with a deep ache of yearning inside me. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement. I thought I saw something come flying out of the side of the ship. Something large, hurtling down toward the water. For a moment I didn’t quite believe what I had seen and thought it might be a trick of the moonlight, but then I heard the splash as it hit the waves far, far below.
RHYS: Now I have to drag my mind back to New York in 1905. That's always one of the challenges of writing two series in two different worlds. I like to finish with one before I start on the other. So do share--have you had any interesting experiences with interpreting dreams?