On Lying

"And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but The truth in masquerade"

Lord Byron

JAN: Do people really lie three times within 10 minutes of meeting someone new? That's a popular statistic circulating the web. Even as a journalist, always searching for lies, I found this tough to believe.

But then I realized. Hey, It's true. I probably lie a minimum of three times within the first ten minutes of a cocktail party. At least by the way the study defines lying.

Included in the definition are things like falsely agreeing with others and the misrepresentation of feelings. Ever choke back the way you really think?? I do it all the time.

Let me explain. Politically, I'm probably to the left of 80 percent of the country. Personally, of course, I think I'm dead center, with some surprising views on various issues that keep both the conservative and the liberal action groups sending me mail. But I live in Massachusetts, so by local standards, I'm a raging conservative. And because I'm a writer, people take it for granted that I'm liberal. They make statements presuming I agree with them. Do I jump into it?

It would mean a verbal fist fight, and because I believe that no one has ever really swayed anyone's political beliefs by cocktail conversation, I smile and say nothing.

For me, it's politics. For others it's religion, music, or whether they actually enjoy the ballet. I know people who have to lie to stop people from shoving a cocktail into their hands. Sometimes we just keep our mouths shut because it just doesn't seem right to tell your best friend her new hairdo looks like straw or that her new drapes are making you dizzy.

So come on, fess up: What do you LIE about??

HALLIE: Here's what I don't lie about. My age. Or what I paid for the outfit you just complimented me on, bless you.

But yes, if someone starts in on anything political, I don't so much lie as refuse to engage. My politics are my personal business, thank you very much. Besides, it seems like I rarely meet anyone who is genuinely interested in engaging in a discussion on issues--they just want to be clever and dismissive and yell. So I shut down. Is that lying?

JAN: Yes, according to this study's definition: You are lying about your feelings, God forbid.

RO: My first instinct was to protest that I never lie, but reading your definition of lying I guess I do. I went to a reunion recently...and definitely dropped a few omissions/lies there. And Bouchercon is coming up...oooh I'll probably do a bit of fibbing there. (e.g., "It's an honor just to be nominated!") I try not to make a habit of it, though, because I'm really a terrible liar. My mother always used to say that and I think she did it just to spook me into always telling her the truth. She said she could always tell when I was lying and now I think everyone else can too.

So Hallie...where did you get that wonderful black shoulder bag you have...the small one with the metal clasp? Was it fabulously expensive? (This is a test.)

HALLIE: Ooooh,isn't it great? Italy! At a factory outlet...gorgeousness for less than $50.00. Unless you count the cost of the trip. Those Italians really know how to make gorgeous handbags.

HANK: I guess...I do...I always feel SO GUILTY,though. Social excuses, mostly.(Oh, so sorry we can't make it, because...but most often I don't give a reason.) And I actually do lie about the cost of things. Actually, I don't lie, I just don't tell. And in political discussions, I generally just try to prevent the other two guys from fighting.

There's a person I see from time to time, and if you ask her a question, she'll often begin her answer with "I'm not gonna lie to you, but..." I just instantly decide whatever she's saying is not true. (And RO, it IS an honor to be nominated for an Anthony. No lie. Congratulations!)

Julie and Julia and Jungle Red

HALLIE: Last week I went to see "Julie and Julia," which I would have gone to see even if it weren’t my sister Nora’s movie. It was lovely and sweet—and Meryl Streep IS Julia Child.

Which led me to drag out my copy of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”--my copy is a 1967 edition, 15th printing, and is inscribed from friends of my parents on May 11, 1969. A wedding present.

My husband and I used to meet every few months with friends and, in advance, come up with a menu that involved each guest making a single dish that took as long as a normal single meal to prepare. Needless to say, lots of our recipes came from Julia. It's easy to see which, because those pages are warped and stained and the margins are scribbled in.

All in all, I made it through about 34 recipes--nowhere near Julie Powell's record setting mastery of all 524. But still.

Standouts were Onion soup (start by roasting bones for broth). Soup au Pistou (an incredible concoction made with zucchini and fresh peas, cooked with lots of garlic and run through a hand mill). Duck a l'Orange and Creme Caramel. And the extraordinary and extraordinarily expensive Tournedos Rossini (filet mignon, home cooked artichoke hearts, truffles, a slab of foie gras, and a Madeira sauce--Oh, baby!) Every recipe had a meltdown moment…as when the duck flew off teh platter on the way to the table or when I renverséd the crème caramel all over the kitchen counter.

Still, I can’t remember a single dish that failed, though Lobster Thermidor did not seem worth the trouble when compared to how delicious a plain old boiled lobster with drawn butter can be.

Have you cooked Julia or are your culinary triumphs more of the Galloping Gourmet variety…or are we talking green been casserole with mushroom soup and canned onion rings?

RHYS: I too used to belong to a supper club for which we had to prepare one dish. And Tournedos Rossini was the first reeeely expensive dish I ordered as an adult. And it was worth it! We used to entertain a lot and I was always trying out new recipes for guests (much to John's horror when I hadn't tested them first) My only spectacular failure was a turbon of sole, stuffed with shrimp and crab. When I turned it out, it collapsed into a nasty pink mess. I had to make a hasty sauce to cover it!

I believe that Julia herself once threw a duck across the kitchen on the way to the table, didn't she? That was why she was so popular--she was so human and really enjoyed every part of the cooking and the eating. I once had an important meeting with the head of my publishing house and the head of marketing back in the days when I wrote YA books. Julia Child and husband were at the next table and I sat almost touching her. All my table-mates wanted to know was what she was eating next. I remember she started with a dozen oysters. And she never shrank from using the butter. My kind of lady!

HALLIE: Oh, gosh, elbow to elbow! I'm jealous. My friend, chef Lora Brody, actually COOKED for Julia once. I can only imagine how nerve wracking that would have been.

JAN: I remember making a stuffed roast after watching a Julia Child episode. It was very complicated, delicious, but very rich. Although I love to cook, I usually avoid recipes that involve too many steps or too many ingredients I have to go to special stores to find.

Tonight I'm throwing a dinner party and all the recipes center around the herbs in my garden, starting with a melon sald with cilantro and fresh mint.

I spotted Julia Childs once, though, at a WGBH Wine tasting fundraiser. It was very exciting. I think she waved.

HALLIE: I also have a garden full of fresh herbs like now, and in honor of same have become an expert at making mojitos.

HANK: Oh, I've made that onion soup. Fantastic. But you know what I learned from her? Very important. Before you start a recipe, read the whole thing, and sort of--imagine how it's going to work and what you need to do in advance. There's nothing like making, say, lasagne, and then getting to the part of the recipe where it says: "add marinara sauce, see p. 233." Ahhh....

And my copy is newer, the 23rd printing from March, 1973. (The onion soup page is a crinkly mess! So is the page for souffle a la vanille.) And I just reread the first line of the foreward: "This is a book for the servantless American cook who can be unconcerned on occasion with budgets ,waitlines, time schedules..."

Hilarious.

HALLIE: Culinary triumphs? Please...dish!

On Secret Languages

Letter from Aix-en-Provence

JAN: When I was a kid, I loved secret languages. My friend Karen had older sisters who taught them to us. There was one language that involved adding "ub" or "ubba" between the syllables. As in Jungubbalububba Redubba writubbaters. Or something like that. All that mattered was it sounded incredibly exotic and your best friend could understand you in the playground. Better yet, you could talk about boys when they were right there, and they never got it. Boys didn’t go in much for secret languages.

That quickly gave way to Pig Latin, which was a more highly respected and widely understood secret language. You had to be more careful in your usuage, but there was the possibility of an older junior high school student actually picking up on something you said and responding to you in your oh-so-in-crowd special code.

When I got to high school, I quickly fell in love with first year French, which was so pretty and way more exotic than Pig Latin. Had Cinderella originally been from France and spoken to her fairy godmother in French? I was pretty sure she had.

But French was a hell of a lot harder to speak and understand. And the challenge was on. I wound up taking eight years of French, minoring in it in college and did a semester abroad in Aix-en-Provence. Although I work hard to try to keep up on my French via Pimsleur and Rosetta Stone, I’m still pretty much a piker. But God knows, I try.

Which is why I’m back in Aix-En-Provence for a month, living in a condo, and shopping at the Monoprix and the market, which requires more use of French than staying at a hotel where the concierge can step in and help. Last week, my daughter and I went to the market to buy ingredients we were making for a special dinner that night. We bought cheeses, which I promptly put down when I went to another vendor and searched through my wallet for five euros to buy sunflowers.

By the time I got home, realized I didn’t have the cheeses and ran back to the square, the market stalls were down, the garbage trucks had rolled in, and everyone was cleaning up. I raced back to the cheese guy to see if I could buy more cheese. To get him to reopen his stall and sell me some, I had to explain what I’d done.

J’ai perdu mon sac du fromage quand j’ai achete des fleurs, I told him. This also included a lot of hand gesturing to both indicate where the sunflower vendor had been and that I was clearly a space shot (finger pointed to head with roll of the eyes and shrug).

Not only did he open to sell me the cheese, he gave me a one Euro discount because he felt sorry for me.

And I thought, my God, the SECRET LANGUAGE WORKS.

I realize that on some level, I think that every time I say anything to anyone in French and they understand and respond. There is always this rush of both surprise and excitement that these exotic words I’ve strung together form a sentence that can be decoded.

It's why I spent all that money on airfare. And well worth every penny.

So I think, that the thrills in life haven’t changed much for me since I was a kid in the playground, only in France, I’ve noticed that the crowd "in" on the decoding is pretty signficant. And you have to watch what you say -- and not just to the junior high schoolers. All the boys are in on the secret language, too.

(Do you remember any secret languages from elementary and junior high school? Apparently, it's a regional thing with Ubba Dubba in the Northeast and Gibberish in the South. Gungi was spoken in Waltham, MA and Opish in New York City.)

On thinking..

In 2001 I credited my dog, Patrick for keeping me sane during the days right after 9/11. He did a great job. Whatever else was going on in the world Patrick had to be walked, fed and played with. I suppose a child could have fit the bill but I didn't have one handy.

The incumbent, Max, (pictured here) has a much easier job description. He helps me think - sometimes about life, sometimes about a story, sometimes about why people with small dogs don't think they need to pick up the poop. But I digress.

Walking Max, grooming him or just canoodling on the bed - no surface is off-limits for our little prince, and public displays of affection are frequent and spontaneous - slows down time for me.

It's not unusual for me to go out for a stroll with Max and find a character, or a trait, or a motive.

Gardening does it for me, too. I rarely spend time in the hammock swinging back and forth and musing about a storyline but I have been known to end a particularly rigorous pruning session with an aha moment about how to dispatch one of my characters. (No worries, I haven't really chopped anyone up yet, although my next door neighbor doesn't know just how close I came last year on Norwegian Independance Day which is a very big deal to him.)

ROBERTA: Definitely walking Tonka is a help. Besides the canine simplicity that Ro describes so nicely, I think moving in general is good for stimulating thinking. I believe Jan said this a couple of weeks ago, but getting out in the field to the actual scene where a book is set can be wonderfully helpful too. I did this last week when I visited the police department in my town. I gleaned some fabulous details that my imagination was not going to discover.

HALLIE: For me it's cooking. Conjuring dishes from whatever happens to be in the refrigerator. If the fridge is bare, haul out the pasta maker -- there's nothing more zen-like than mixing up a batch of noodle dough, kneading it until it's elastic, letting it rest, and then running it, over and over through the machine's rollers so that a little 2-inch ball turns into a six-foot-long sheet of paper-thin pasta. (I find my best ideas come to me when I can't possibly write them down.) Fry up some sage leaves from the garden.

Boil the pasta for barely a minute or two and serve it piping hot and buttered, sprinkled with freshly grated parmesan and the fried sage leaves. Enjoy with a glass of robust Italian wine.

The perfect way to relax.

RO: I'll be right over..sounds yummy. I don't know anyone else who makes their own pasta. I remember an aunt making her own raviolis. Quite a production. Lots of time for wool gathering.

HANK: Sleeping? Well, not really sleeping, but the time just before going to sleep.

RO: I refuse to believe that you actually sleep. I've been convinced you are superhuman and don't need sleep like the rest of us mortals.

HANK: My brain just works like crazy then, in a very unstressed and openminded (!) way. I can do interviews in my head--taking roles as both me and the interviewee. And that's been incredibly helpful in my job as reporter--when I do ine interview for real, it's almost as if I've practiced. As for the books, whole scenes unfold--and it's as if I'm just watching them.
Tonight, though, I'll be thinking about PRIME TIME--the new MIRA version goes on sale Tuesday! (Look for it,okay?)

RO: Yippee!! Run, don't walk to your local bookstore for Prime Time, Hank's Agatha-winning First Novel. Come back for more PT news later on this week.

Janny, what about you?

JAN: Taking a shower. I've decided that first thing in the morning is a complete waste of a shower. It's much more productive after two or three difficult hours of writing. Then right in the middle of the shampoo -- or maybe it's the conditioner -- I have a Eureka moment.

Also driving. I've had my very best ideas on Route 95.

RO: My showers are strictly for singing. I put the ipod speakers on full tilt - impossible to think about anything but where in my brain all the song lyrics are stored. I'm totally with you on driving though, it's a great source of inspiration.

Other drivers...strange vanity plates, mismatched couples in other cars..all grist for the mill.

So what non-writing activity gets your creative juices flowing?

Thursday's guest hunks

While we're in between our author guest hunks, we thought you'd enjoy a visit from our private fellas. These are the guys who bring us coffee in the morning, attend book events, laugh at our jokes, and generally Make Life Worth Living! In order of appearance, here are Roberta's John, Jan's Bill, Rhys's John, and Hank's Jonathan. (Missing but not forgotten are Hallie and Ro's guys.) Aren't they adorable?

On Social Networking

JAN: When I was writing Teaser, I decided that to research social networking, I had to start using it, so I opened accounts at MySpace and Facebook. I bribed my two kids into friending me on Facebook and for a while they were my only friends.

Don't feel sorry for me. Eventually, all the other writers in the world joined Facebook and I started to worry it was taking too much time. So what did I do? I joined Twitter. And this is where my story starts.

The website asked me to invite my friends on to Twitter, but I couldn't figure out how to search my contacts on Outlook so I typed in one of the only people whose email address I knew by heart. My brother.

His reply. You think I have time for this?
Me: Just hit the button and follow me.
His reply: Why?
Me: I have no idea.

My Twitter account remained inactive for about a month. Then I got an email via Twitter that an old college room-mate, a woman I haven't seen in thirty-five years was following me. In Twitter speak, following is like friending except it connotes that you actually read the other person's daily and/or moment-to-moment updates on a semi-religious basis. I decided to give Twitter another try. I updated myself. I reread the messages in Dani's Blogbook tour Newsgroup blogbooktours@yahoogroups.com, to get a few pointers.

What was I doing?? Twitter asked.
Trying to figure out Twitter etiquette, I replied.

All of a sudden, five people I didn't know were following me. And I have to tell you, it was a thrill. I knew enough to know they were only following me, so I'd follow them. But I didn't care. I posted again. Under 140 words Or is it characters? I always have to edit down. Be briefer. But I'm a writer, right? It feels like I'm working when I'm twittering. I post again.

I check my numbers. Forty-two followers! Every few hours, I get more. I follow them, too, because it's only polite. I even go to a few people's websites. I join some new social network group on social networking. I'm not sure why. I'm tweeting away. Is it the brevity that's so addictive? Or the following?

I disable my cable connection, so I can't access the Internet during the afternoon. But at night, I go to YouTUBE to check out the videos. There's one on Twitter In Plain English, Twitter Tease, and Twitter Snobbery. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zqI0baKB This last was from one of my new followers. I figure he knows the score.

I watched three different videos on Twitter dos and don'ts. Who knew there was this much education? I come across this video. It's called Tweeter whore. I thought it was hysterical, but I sent it to my 22-year old daughter, who spends a good deal of time online.

She wrote back. "I don't get it it."
And then: "What's going on with you, anyway?"

Apparently, I'm so immersed in Twitterland, that I've lost perspective. So if you know nothing about Twitter, don't bother with this. But if you've ever tweeted, or thought about it, take a look. I think its laugh-out-loud funny, but scary, too. It could happen to anyone.

Oh by the way, if you want to follow me: My user name is JanBrogan (no space). I'll follow you back. Tweet, tweet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwGzdbLweUI

ON Queries about Queries

Yeah, it's one of the things you don't find out til later.

You've written a wonderful book, a marvelous book, and you're getting ready to write the cool acknowledgment page and sign up for an author photo.

Waaaait a minit. First you've got to get an agent. THAT you know. And to snag your perfect agent, you suddenly find out need to write a query letter. A--sales pitch. That perfectly (but briefly) describes you and your book so irresisitibly that you'll have agent offers filling your email and mailbox.

The query letter. In the annals of writing, it goes down with the dreaded synopsis as the scourge.

But hey--we've snagged Wendy Burt Thomas. She has a new book that'll answer it all for us. It's called: The Writers Digest Guide to Query Letters.
(And its not just for novels--it's got info on non-fiction, and short stories, and magazines.)

And we're getting a sneak peek.

HANK: Query letters. We all cringe. How make-or-break is a query letter to an aspiring author's career?

WENDY: Breaking into the publishing world is hard enough right now. Unless you have a serious "in" of some kind, you really need a great query letter to impress an agent or acquisitions editor.

Essentially, your query letter is your first impression. If they like your idea (and voice and writing style and background), they'll either request a proposal, sample chapters, or the entire manuscript. If they don't like your query letter, you've got to pitch it to another agency/publisher. Unlike a manuscript, which can be edited or reworked if an editor thinks it has promise, you only get one shot with your query.

I see a lot of authors who spend months (or years) finishing their book, only to rush through the process of crafting a good, solid query letter. What a waste! If agents/editors turn you down based on a bad query letter, you've blown your chance of getting them to read your manuscript.

It could be the next bestseller, but they'll never see it. My advice is to put as much effort into your query as you did your book. If it's not fabulous, don't send it until it is.

HANK: You know, my first query letter, which I loved, got no no no no from every agent I sent it to. It focused on the main character. The second one--which was about exactly the same book--focused on the plot hook. I think I only changed the first paragraph. And everyone said yes. It was the same book! How do you know you've got it right?


WENDY: That's a tough one. There are a few things that will help your chances of landing an agent. First, make sure your book idea is a match for the agencies you're pitching. Research some of the most recent books the agency represented.


Were they action-oriented (e.g. plot-driven) or character-driven? Your query will need to whet the agent's appetite based on his/her taste - and what they think your book will be about. If your book is plot-driven but your query focuses on sketching out the character, they'll likely get the wrong idea.


Second, learn from the feedback you get. Even rejections can be helpful - and get you closer to an acceptance. If all the agents are saying they like the character but not the fact that you set it in the 1980s, you might need to change that in your query - and manuscript. If they all simply say, "no thanks" without any feedback, it's probably a sign that you need to revise your query (and/or manuscript).


Thirdly, if you get a lot of positive responses ("Great concept - just not a fit for our agency") then don't give up. I think my co-author and I queried 30 or 40 agencies before we got an offer of representation on our first book. I see too many authors give up after trying only 10 or 12 agents.




HANK: What's the biggest lesson you've learned as a full-time writer?



WENDY: Seize every opportunity - especially when you first start writing. I remember telling someone about a really high-paying writing gig I got and he said, "Wow. You have the best luck!" I thought, "Luck has nothing to do with it! I've worked hard to get where I am."




Later that week I read this great quote: "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." It's absolutely true. And writing queries is only about luck in this sense. If you're prepared with a good query and/or manuscript, when the opportunity comes along you'll be successful.



HANK: Okay, who wrote the bad letters? Do tell.



WENDY: I did! And that was such fun. I've read - and written! - so many horrible ones over the years that it was a little too easy to craft them. But misery loves company and we ALL love to read really bad query letters, right?


HANK: But--there are all these rules.One page. Your own voice. Big hook. Your platform. And then the final rule is--be natural. Ahhhhh...what should writers know?


WENDY: I want them to remember that writing is fun. Sometimes new writers get so caught up in the procedures that they lose their original voice in a query. Don't bury your style under formalities and to-the-letter formatting.



HANK: Full disclosure--my query letter is in this book! And it was really fun to see it. (I didn't let Wendy get her hands on the one that tanked.)


Wendy graciously says she'll come chat and answer your questions! So maybe she can give you some guidance.


And Jungle Red is giving away two copies of TWDGTQL to commenters we'll choose at random.


So ask away--and maybe you'll win answers to ALL your questions!

And how does your query letter start? Published authors--we'd love to know! Yet-to-be-published--have you figured that out yet?

(Thanks to Epicurienne for the typewriter photo!)

Mystery Sisters

HALLIE: First, one kind of mystery sisterhood--Jan and I launched our books last night at Red Bones in Cambridge. Hank was on-hand. Kate's Mystery Books in Cambridge has signed copies of TEASER and of NEVER TELL A LIE. I'm posting photos in the "Gallery" on my web site later today. Future events are posted on each of our web sites.

Another kind of sisterhood--I grew up in a family of four girls. If a novelist had created my family, there would have been fewer sisters. Four is just too many to write about and keep them all distinct. Three is my upper limit. (I've often wondered if Alcott didn't bump off Beth because four were so hard to write.)

But Lauren Baratz-Logsted blows off the roof writing eight sisters. in her Sisters Eight mystery series for kids. Octuplets. With eight cats, no less.

Welcome to Jungle Red Writers, Lauren...

JRW: We have to ask if you come from a family of girls, and if not where did you come up with the idea of a mystery series with eight sisters?

LBL: Thank you so much for having me here - it's an honor! I have just one sibling, a brother who's two years older, so it didn't come from there. It actually came from Jackie. Short version: we were stranded in Colorado by a blizzard and, needing fresh entertainment and since I'd always wanted to write a book Jackie could read, I asked what she'd like. Being an only child, he
said a book about sisters. I asked how many and she said eight. So there you have it - creativity at work!

JRW: The sisters feel like a profusion of Pippi Longstockings… so independent and spunky. Did you have a literary model in the back of your mind when you created the sisters Huit (love that their last name is the French word for “eight”)?

LBL: Well, Jackie used F. Scott Fitzgerald as her source material, while Greg... No, seriously, we were just trying to create something fun to amuse ourselves and, before we knew it, things got away from us! If we had any other books in mind at all, I'd say we were thinking "Lemony Snicket" (whom we all love) but for a slightly younger set and with a strong emphasis on Girl Power...and cats."

JRW: Any tips on how to write with eight main characters? How do you keep them each so distinct and vibrant?

LBL: I tell you, it's been the challenge of my career! The key has been to create characters so strong in certain personality traits that readers can tell who's speaking even if there are no dialogue tags. For example, I've been reading the books to Jackie's third grade class and if I ask them which character would say, "Oh no! It is raining so hard, we will need to build an ark!" they will all answer "Petal." You can even have a personality profile done by taking a quiz at www.sisterseight.com to see "Which Eight Are You?" I must say, though, it's disturbing to see how many people turn out to be Rebecca.

JRW: Can you share with us a little how you collaborate with your husband and your daughter?

LBL: Basically, I'm "the pen." This means that after brainstorming the general idea for each book, I write all day, then read the day's output to Greg and Jackie, who then tell me what's right/wrong and what needs to be done in the next chapter. And sometimes we go out for editorial lunches. A good portion of the final five books in the series exist only thus far on napkins.

JRW: A lot of excellent mystery writers have turned their hands to writing YA books. Did you start writing for adults?

LBL: Oh yes. Something like my first six were published for adults, only one of which - VERTIGO - would fit into the mystery/thriller category, before I started writing for both.

JRW: Can you give our writer-readers some insight into what’s hot right now in the YA mystery market?

LBL: Lisa McMann's WAKE, which I'd categorize more as a suspense novel, is amazing; and the followup, FADE, is soon to be released. There's also a great recent book for slightly younger readers, MASTERPIECE, by Elise Broach, that's about an 11-year-old boy and a talented beetle who become involved in solving the mystery behind an art heist. Truthfully, though, given the wonderful variety of books currently being published as YA, there's a sad shortage of mysteries...so get writing, JRWers!

JRW: And would you share inside scoop on how you sold your series to Houghton Miflin?

LBL: All sales should be this easy! Just like Curious George, I sat down and started to write. When I finished the first book in the projected nine-book series, I really felt that we might have something here that might amuse more people than just the three of us. So I sent it off to my favorite editor in the world, Julia Richardson at Houghton Mifflin, and she saw something
worthwhile there too, enough to buy the first four books in the series and publish the first two as twin lead titles.

JRW: Would you be willing to check back today and answer our readers questions about your books or writing mysteries for kids?

LBL: Absolutely!

JRW: Question for Lauren? Please, pile on!

Facing our darkest fears

HALLIE: At last, "Never Tell a Lie" is published. I labored over that sucker for nearly three years, so now when people tell me "I couldn't put it down! I finished it in three hours!!" I have distinctly mixed feelings.

The idea for the book came to me, innocuously enough, at a yard sale. Just like the yard sale that opens the novel, it was at a big Victorian house around the corner from me. New owners had painted the outside mauve and purple. I was dying to know what they'd done to the interior, so I peppered the poor woman throwing the yard sale with a million questions.

Finally, probably as much to get rid of me as anything else, she said, "Would you like to go inside and look around?" She pointed the side door. "Let yourself in."

I did. Inside, there was a brand new kitchen. Upstairs, the bedrooms were straight out of House Beautiful. As I started up to the third floor, the mystery writer in me kicked in and I thought: What if a woman goes to a yard sale and somehow she manages to talk her way into the house? She goes inside. . . and she never comes out.

Thoroughly spooked, I bolted down three flights and out the door.

Have you ever been spooked by a thought that turned an everyday situation sinister?

HANK: OH. Constantly. Daily. It's a sickness. Even that, you know? I'll cough, and then think--what if this is the beginnning of the plague, and I have it and... And suddenly, I'm in The Stand.

Jonathan goes out to get the paper. It's just at the end of the driveway. "Be careful!" I always tell him. "Of WHAT?" he says. It's potentially dangerous, in my mind. In his, it isn't. What if the people handing out free food samples at the mall are really terrorists, and the food is poisoned? (Actually, I may use that in a book so forget you read it.) And I completely got PTSD after seeing the movie "The Dark Knight." I was clutching Jonathan all the way to the car, terrifed someone/something was going to leap out of the darkness.

I may have seen too much TV news.

HALLIE: LOL. That's gotta be it.

Not sure why but that reminds me of once when I was walking with my daughter and we were playing "what's that thing" (pick up a small scrap of trash from the street and try to guess what it was part of)...and I picked up a red plastic tab that said "DO NOT REMOVE." Where's CSI when you need 'em.

HANK: I still have a little red ticket from a sweepstakes drawing that says "Keep this ticket." So hey, I kept it. Because what terrible thing might happen if I don't?

RHYS: Congrats on the new book, Hallie. As you say, this is one of the pitfalls of being a mystery writer. The brain switches so easily to "what if?" And we have trained ourselves to act on that what if. A snippet of overheard conversation becomes sinister, a stranger lurking on the corner becomes a potential ax murderer... And I've always been afraid of the dark. I grew up in a big spooky house that I was sure was haunted. The wind used to make the rug outside my bedroom door flap up and down and sometimes windows opened on their own. When I talked about this to my brother, years later, he replied, "of course it was haunted." So I'd never go up three flights of stairs in a purple-painted house.

RO: Oooh, as a diehard yard sale fan, I'll never be able to go to one again and walk up those stairs to where I've been assured "the good stuff" is. Even if the house isn't purple. That's my idea of something really scary, the everyday thing that turns into a nightmare. I mean, who's going to be fooled by a drooling 7-ft stranger with tattoos and an eyepatch? Just run...no story.

My sort-of-scary moments occur whenever I'm on a driving trip and I have to use the facilities - or buy a can of diet red bull- at a gas station. It's not the toilet that scares me (Dr. Roberta...you hear that?)Ever see The Vanishing or Breakdown? Yikes. It crosses my mind every time I stop in one of those remote service stations.

HANK: Oh. The Vanishing (the Dutch one) is the scariest movie I've ever seen. Ever. I almost wish I hadn't see it.

ROBERTA: Ro, I'm not worried about the toilet, I'm worried about the diet Red Bull!:) Hallie, big congratulations! So excited to see your book on the shelves! And what I've learned from the tag sale story is to never, ever, let a stranger into the house, even if she SEEMS like a nice, nosy middle-aged lady. Maybe especially that. I too see danger and plot twists everywhere. It's kind of exhausting, isn't it?

HALLIE: What about never ever GO INTO a house, no matter how hunky the man is who invites you in to "have a look around."

JAN: Wow, was it really three years, Hallie? It seemed like that book flew off your computer!! Congratulations on its release and the many terrific reviews.

When I was still dealing with my plane phobia (now conquered!!) I once had a cognitive behavioral therapist tell me that my problem was I had too much imagination and I applied it to EVERYTHING. That probably applies to all of us!

For me, it really was the toilet.... but not the germs. It all started as a small child, when I convinced myself there was a monster in it. I used to open the door, flush the toilet and run like hell. Sometimes when I go to lock the garage door at night, I'll let in the thought... what if someone was in the garage just waiting.... and I get that full body fear thrill people go to the movies for. But I've spent a lot of energy trying to NOT let those thoughts in my head, and I think it's net gain.

HALLIE: My daughter used to be afraid of squirrels, so I'd send her out with a can of Lysol (AKA magic squirrel repellant) to protect her on her Hot Wheels.

So, is your monster in the toilet? Or in your attic? Or up a tree and hopefully staying where it belongs? (Hopefully not in your bookstore where I hope you are ALL headed.)

Please join the conversation. We're dying to know.

Happy Holidays from Jungle Red Writers

(With apologies and appreciation to Clement Moore...and maybe Dr. Seuss.)

Twas the week before New Years'
And all through this site
Not a blogger was working
Not even to write.

Our books are all saved on our thumb drives with care
In hopes that bestseller lists soon would be there.
Our new novels were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of royalties danced in our heads.

The Jungle Red sisters, five east and one west
Had just settled our brains for a well-deserved rest.

When in PW’s pages--There arose such a clatter
We opened the mag to see what was the matter!

To the review pages we turned in a flash
To see Hallie and Jan both praised with panache!

The bookstores were loving “A for M’ by our Ro
And Rosemary’s gardener continued to grow!

And what to our wondering eyes should appear
Rhys and Hank pubbing new ones—and early next year!

But what makes us the happiest—keeps every day new?
We knew in a moment—it’s our blogging crew!

You listen, you chatter, you join in the game
We cheer you, we love you, we call you by name!


Thanks, Laura! Thanks Edith! Thanks Becky and Lee!
Thanks Michael, Susannah and S. Con-no-lly!

We love Maddy, and Rhonda, Felicia and Clare
We hope Amy and JB will always be there

To June and to Karen, to Marianne, too
Love to Janet. And Mo. And to Peter. (He’s new.)

Our guest bloggers were stellar
Chris! Mary! La Barnes?!
To the Paulas, and Maddee, and the fab Cathy Cairns.

To Jane, Gin and Charlaine (queen of the LIST!)
To the Femmes and to Lipstick--consider you're kissed.

Christina! Elizabeth! Alex! Michelle!
Hail “Anonymous” too—your comments are swell.

We had memories, recipes, tales of our youth
We’ve had jokes, and disasters, and telling the truth.

To the top of the lists! To the top of them all!
We’re revising, and writing, and sharing our call!

As dry words before our reviser’s pen fly
When they meet with cliché, and we fix them (we try):

We’ve landed at New Years, and our thoughts go to you
May you read perfect books, may your wishes come true!

May you waste not a word, may you write fresh and new
And fill all your stories with mysteries and clues

And remember: on days that things don’t turn out right
And you wonder if this was a fraud and a fright

You have sisters on line—there are six of us here!
And each one is wishing you all-the-year cheer.

And we all say—we love you! ‘Fore you click from our site--

Happy New Year to All

—and long may you Write!

What's your Red Ryder BB gun?

Remember what Ralphie Parker lusts after in Jean Shepherd's wonderful "A Christmas Story": "An official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle (BB Gun) with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time"?

My Red Ryder BB Gun was what I called a high-heel doll. This was in the days of yore, before Barbie, guys, and the doll I wanted was about a foot tall and she had an, ahem, woman's figure and she wore high-heeled shoes. My mother, bless her, bought me one, but the one she picked was blonde. I hid my disappointment and kept the doll, but I mean, look at me, am I blonde?

It seems so silly now, but those feelings came back to me awhile back when I bought my daughter (she's now in her 30s) her lusted-after doll: Kid Sister. She opened it and I recognized that dismayed look. Turned out I'd purchased a knock-off (in this case brunette instead of blonde). I returned it the next day, but she still trots this story out every Christmas to demonstrate how cheap I am.

So, what was your Red Ryder BB Gun, the present you lusted after, and did you get it?

RHYS: My best story of Christmas longing came when I was eighteen. Transistor radios had just been invented. (Okay, I'm giving away my age here, I admit) They were really expensive. I really wanted one but a dear friend was getting married in Germany over Christmas and had invited me to be bridesmaid. So my parents were paying for my fare as my Christmas present.

So I didn't even mention the transistor radio. My parents weren't overflowing with cash. Then on Christmas morning I opened my stocking (yes, I still had a stocking at 18) and the first thing I found was a battery. I stared at it wondering why on earth anybody should think I might want a battery for Christmas. Then the thought gradually crystallized... it couldn't be... they couldn't possibly know... I dug through the stocking and there, at the very bottom, was my transistor radio. I still get weepy when I think about it. It was my father, of course. He was such a kind and perceptive and generous man.

HANK: OH, Rhys, even I get weepy when I hear that story. Transistor radios were such a big deal. I was glued to mine, listening to the top 40. And the battery! No wonder you write suspense!

Anyway, this is probably some deep psychological thing, and Roberta will want to come right over and talk or something. But I must confess, I don't remember wanting--or getting--anything in particular. Oh, I did want stuff. And our Christmas mornings under the tree were an embarrassing array of presents for my parents and for all us kids. I think it was even Christmas when I got my first pony. But I don't remember, exactly.

It must be some sort of object lesson: I do remember, perfectly, the Christmas when my parents decided we weren't going to have a tree, and on Christmas Eve, my sister Nina and I sneaked out and got one, and put it up in the middle of the night, surprising everyone. And I remember we always got chocolate oranges in our stockings, the kind you whap on a table and the sections come apart? I can't even look at those now without welling up.

HALLIE: Hold on, Hank. You got a PONY?

RO: Ah yes, I remember getting my first PONY...I think mine was a handbag...

HANK: Okay, yes, I'm laughing. We lived in what was then pretty rural Indiana. We had a big barn, and there were four-going-on-five kids, and yeah, we got a pony. A Welsh pony named Sable. And from then on, we all had to muck out stalls before we went to school. Happy New Year!

ROBERTA: No, no Hank, I'm not rushing over to chat. You sound just fine:).

HANK: Oh, whew. (I mean, not that I wouldn't love to have you come chat.)

ROBERTA: My sister and I got a transistor radio too--we're 11 months apart so we often ended up sharing (and that's another story for a different day!) I was a huge doll fan--distinctly remember the year I asked for and received Patty Play Pal. (Isn't that an awful-sounding name?) But I really, really loved Barbies. There were four of us kids, and we got plenty of loot, but never as much as my only-child cousin. We'd head over to her house for Christmas dinner and I'd disappear into her room for hours to play with her stuff. Barbie's Dream House, Barbie and Ken and Barbie's sister and Ken's convertible, and racks and racks and racks of outfits. No wonder I like spending time with my characters...

JAN: Hard to choose from among all the toys I so desperately wanted for Christmas, ...I had three older brothers, so I was always longing for girl stuff. Easy Bake oven, (never got it), the light up vanity (got it), but most of all Tressy. Tressy was supposed to be competition for Barbie, but with a button in her stomach that made her hair grow to any length. I wanted her, I got her, and then I took her to my best friend Karen MacVicker's. Karen had two older sisters and every possible Barbie outfit. As it turned out, the outfits didn't fit Tressy, who immediately seemed second rate.

RO: I don't remember lusting after anything in particular. I was not a Barbie gal, or any dolls really. Calling Dr. Roberta...

I do know that I NEVER wanted whatever it was that Aunt Mary got me. Nice woman but not only did the woman choose the worst presents for kids - umbrellas, rubber boots, goofy hats, stuff no kid wants - she got all twelve of us the same thing in different colors. And of course we'd each have to open them and PRETEND that we didn't know what it was. (Sorry Aunt Mare.)

I did get the EasyBake oven one year which cooked with a light bulb. Very strange. After you used the box of (I'm sure it was all chemicals) cake mix, I don't remember what you were supposed to do.

HALLIE: That Easy Bake oven ended up on the "dangerous toys" list some year or other because it could burn you...duh.

I had one and I have to say it was one of the best toys ever. It had tiny little boxes of cake mix that you could actually whip up and cook in tiny little pans. And I did it all wear my Mom's frilly apron. (I DON'T THINK SO! My mother who wore high heels just about 24-hours a day would not have been caught dead in a frilly apron.)

So, gang, what was your Red Ryder BB Gun?

And tune in later in the week--Wednesday WRITER MAMA Christina Katz will be visiting JRW, and she'll be talking about that mysterious entity, a writer's platform, and how to "Get Known Before the Book Deal." Friday we'll be welcoming mistress of all things mysterious Janet Rudolph, editor of Mystery Readers Journal.

On TEASER, the murder mystery

JRW: We can't resist. We want to interview our own Jan! (Here's a special photo of her.)

Teaser is out officially--today! (And here's the cover!) Congratulations. It's so scary, and such a cautionary tale. Just tell us a bit about it.

JAN: Thanks Hank! Teaser is about social networking going horribly wrong. Hallie (the fictional Hallie, my main character. Not our Hallie.) comes across a provocative video clip when she's trolling a chatroom and realizes the young teens are local. She convinces her editors that she's got a great story, a story parents need to hear. Her investigation leads her to some very dark places, and when girls start dying, it becomes a personal crusade -- especially when she loses the newspaper's support.



JRW: How did you decide to write about teenagers on-line?

JAN: Well first of all, I was a difficult teenager who did a lot of stupid things. I actually used to hitch hike just to meet guys and had to bolt from the car more than once. So I feel like I relate to teenagers and understand how easily it is for them to lie and to ignore their parent's warnings. In raising my own teenagers, I began to view the Internet as a sewer pipe, something that could pump really bad stuff into my own home.

JRW: Your four-star review from Romantic Times said TEASER could be ripped from the headlines...is it based on reality?

JAN: It was definitely inspired by two headlines. The first was in Rhode Island, when two young teenage girls posted naked pictures of themselves on MySpace. The attorney general's office did not consider this a teenage whim. These girls were prosecuted for child pornography. Also the Justin Berry series in The New York Times alerted me to how kids could get in really big trouble with a webcam.

JRW: As a parent....does it give you chills? What do you think parents don't know?

JAN: Although I know the Internet is incredibly useful, much of its traffic and revenues are driven by pornography and I think parents should understand that. There is an overwhelming U.S. demand for pornography that contributes to the internationl sex slave trade. And I think exposure all our kids are getting to pornography is changing the culture.

I think parents don't know how vulnerable teenagers are, especially around 13 and 14 years old. Or how lonely for attention or acceptance they can be.

And it was an eye opener for me to learn how adept and patient sexual predators can be at grooming kids on line. They take very small steps, the process is so incremental, it can seem non-threatening to a kid. I really don't think parents should allow teens, especially young teens, laptops behind closed doors.

JRW: This is the third Hallie Ahern mystery--was this one different to write?

JAN: It was a little different in that the teenage characters came easily to me. I didn't fuss quite as much with this book. The odd thing was I didn't think I dwelled as much on Hallie's gambling addiction in this book, but every reviewer seemed to note it more here than in earlier titles.

JRW: Your video is so...edgy. Here's the link, for anyone who hasn't seen it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJNye1b1FIM
What did you think when you met the "real" Hallie? And the "real" girls?
And hmmm....didn't we see a secret actress in one scene?

JAN: It was such a thrill to have my characters come to life. I walked around in a cloud for days afterward. And I felt strangely maternal about the actresses. I was oddly proud that Hallie was so pretty -- as if she were my daughter. They were so much my characters that I had the hardest time calling them by their real names. Jaime, Gillian and Alma. They were all terrific actresses. And about that secret actress -- I have no idea where she came from!

JRW: And now-- The BIG LIE! Tell us four things about yourself--only three can be true! And we'll try to guess which one is a lie...

JAN: Wow, I FINALLY get to play the Jungle Red game!! And you know what?? it's a lot harder than I'd imagined.

I tapped dance before an audience on stage when I was nine-months pregnant
George Harrison was my favorite Beatle
My great, great, great grandfather was a guard in the Tower of England
I'm part Native American

Grazie, merci, arigato...woof

So what are you thankful for?

RO: I've got a lot to be thankful for this year. My first book finally came out (yay!)People actually bought it and some were kind enough to say that they liked it. I lost the three pounds I'd gained at the beginning of my book tour. My husband, my dog and my colorist are all happy, healthy and not going anywhere for a while (unlike my trainer, who, gasp, has decided he wants to have a life and not devote himself to lowering my bodyfat percentage.)

My wonderful husband has agreed to go on three, count 'em, booksigning trips with me (two with the dog) next year, where we'll be staying in glam places like this hotel room in Dedham, MA.

People have stopped saying that I look like that woman from Alaska. And more importantly, that woman from Alaska isn't moving any time soon. At least not to Washington.

I don't have many family members left (insert violins here)so the friends that I've made in my short time in this business have been very important to me. Even though many of them are "show" friends and we're not likely to see each other outside of Baltimore, Birmingham or Oakmont. So I'm thankful to all of them for helping me figure out what to do! (End of sappy bit.)

Jan: Since I'm cooking Thanksgiving dinner for 16, at the moment, I'm really happy for online recipes.
But like Ro, I've lost a lot of family members, and my daughter (now healthy) was seriously ill a few years back. I know that sh*t happens and it happens fast. So what I'm truly grateful for at this particular moment in time, is that everyone I love is healthy and thriving.

And at the risk of being a super-smarm, I have to add, that I'm grateful for you guys, and Jungle Red. I think its a terrific blog!

HALLIE: Honest to goodness, these days I am grateful for every moment and every person in my life. Blog sisters, real sisters, friends, and that amazing, vast community of writers and readers. My beautiful daughters who make me laugh so hard I wet my pants. My husband who eats whatever I cook for him and likes it. Really. My cozy house where I write. The upcoming excitement of my new book. Right now there's aged port in my half-full glass, and I'm trying to sip it as slowly as I can.

ROBERTA: My husband, who is absolutely there for me through thick and thin, and very, very funny besides. My family--and his. Friends and neighbors. My sweet dog, Tonka, and the cat next next door. The adventure that my life has become over the past ten years: I would never have believed the horde of good friends I'd make while working harder than ever. And yes, the chance to see eight books make it into print--what a ride!

HANK: Well, how can I write this without crying? Jumping happily onto the sappy wagon, at this brief moment, everything seems beautiful. My little darling books are out and loved. The fourth one sits 3000 words from completion. As a result,I know and adore dozens, hundreds of people I never would have met without them. (There is no frigate like a book, isn't that what we memorized before we knew how true it was?)
Actual quote from Jonathan last week: "Why don't I just take over making dinner until Drive Time is done?"
Actual quote from step-son Paul last week: "Your grandson Eli is going to have a baby brother."
The last of the leaves falling means spring is around the corner..and makes me want to hold on to every last red maple and bare branch at the same time I embrace the changes to come.

RO: That is so Hank! "the last of the leaves falling means spring is around the corner.."

Hank: I have a comic on my refrigerator that has two guys on a raft.One of them, is saying: "You mean there a whole universe out there, and we're in the middle of it, and we have no idea what's going to happen next?"
And the other guy, bleak, says Yeah, I'm afraid that's right.
And the first guys says: "Cool!"

Happy Thanksgiving, you Jungle Reds.

JRGang: So what are you thankful for?

PS: Stop back on Wednesday for a JR chat with Chris Grabenstein (Tilt a Whirl, The Crossroads, HellHole)

Hidden in Plain Sight

"Why not be oneself? That is the whole secret of a successful appearance. If one is a greyhound, why try to look like a Pekingese?" Dame Edith Sitwell

ROBERTA: Those of you who know me would probably describe me as a small person, right? Maybe, if you were being brutally honest, you'd even say short. But I don't feel small. A couple of years ago, I joined the board of directors at our golf club and eventually assumed the position of green department chair, which made me responsible for supervising the golf course superintendent. He and I were a funny contrast in many ways, but the most striking might have been physical. He's 6'6 and I'm 5'2 (just about.) At a golf tournament for board members and superintendents, this photo was taken. Suddenly I had to face facts in a new way. Yes, Mike is tall. But I'm also short. This might explain why my back has started to bother me. (Chairs and couches are not built for small people, and therefore our feet don't sit flat on the floor, which causes our backs to arch unnaturally.) it also explains why I can't see over people at the movies! Duh...

So tell all Jungle Red: have you had the odd experience of suddenly recognizing something about yourself (can be physical, can be internal) that others knew all along?

HANK: Roberta, you're funny. Remember that nursery rhyme that says: I'm just as big for me, as you are big for you? Here's a picture of me at Bouchercon with authors Andrew Grant and Gayle Lynds. Now, you'd call me tallish, right? I'm 5'8", and I have on very very high boots. And look at this. Who's the small one?

Someone asked me once if I was a organization freak. Of course not, I said. Not even close. My husband started laughing. What? I said. I was truly perplexed. He pointed out that the clothes in my closet are hanging by color. Black jackets on the top row. Colored jackets on the bottom--white, then gray, then navy, then red, you get the idea. And that on the day before the cleaning people come, I clean up. And then, after they leave, I insist they've moved all the furniture out of place. Like, half an inch.

JAN: Oh Roberta, this is a topic I could go on and on about. I'm almost 5'10 and when other kids were worrying about getting weighed in middle school, I was getting nauseous about having to be measured. When they told us not to smoke cigarettes because it would stunt our growth, I bought my first pack. (At age 13) Yes, and I'm happy to report that it worked! My brothers were 6'6", 6'4" and 6'2".

Once, when I was living in Aix-en-Provence, I was walking home early one Sunday morning, up a hill, just as a French family of four was walking down the hill to church. I had maybe 2-inch high boots on. The combination of the heels and the hill made me tower even more over them. I happened to turn back and saw that the whole family had stopped, turned, to stare at me and my height in absolute awe. One of the asked, "Vous etes Allemande?" which means, "You are German?" Clearly, they thought I was a female Attila the Hun. (Jan says the caption to the photo at the right is: "Here's Jan with her childhood friend Eva, who got to be petite (far right), and Eva's friend Michelle, who got to be even more petite. See how freaking tall Jan is?"

RO: First off, they DO move all of the furniture half an inch. Not enough to notice until you walk into something and get a nice little black-and-blue mark because your sense memory tells you the chair was where it was the day before. Question...if we don't move everything back will THEY do it the following week, or will all of our furniture eventually be moved out the front door?

I caught a glimpse of Roberta walking next to Harlan Coben at Crimebake this past weekend and ..yup, darlin' you are a tad on the short side! Me? I have no idea. Half the time I walk through life feeling invisible..I'm constantly surprised - and flattered - when someone remembers me. Other than that, people have told me that I walk fast. I don't really think about it unless I'm walking behind someone and start to think "what is wrong with this person?!"

HALLIE: Anyone remember the Dr.Seuss book about finding the right hat? One after the other, the guy tries them on... Too beady, too bumpy, too leafy, too lumpy, too twisty, twirly, too wrinkly, too curly. For me, when I was a kid I thought I was too skinny, too pimply, too bossy, too surly. I've turned out to be none of the above...well, maybe I did get a large helping of the Lucy Van Pelt gene. But doens't everyone WANT to take orders from me??

ROBERTA: Yes, Hallie, we do! But Hank, if Hallie or I were in that picture, you'd only see us from the waist up! And since Ro did have to mention Harlan Coben (who was our fabulous and gracious guest of honor at the New England Crime Bake this year), here's a photo that captures the long and the short of it. That's Katherine Hall Page in the middle--she's even smaller than I am. But I bet she doesn't know it!

Okay, time for you Jungle Red Readers to tell about yourselves! And don't forget to stop back on Wednesday, when we'll host debut author Jeri Westerson, and then on Thursday when we'll host mystery pro Kate Flora, and on Friday...when anything can happen....

On scrimping

"We can tell our values by looking at our checkbook stubs." --Gloria Steinem

JAN: My mother, were she still alive, would have an awesome carbon footprint.
Although she had a dishwasher, she preferred to handwash dishes because it used less energy. She was okay with the washing machine, because it was gas fueled, but spurned the dryer, because it was electric. She hung clothes to dry outside in good weather, and in the basement otherwise.

She also recycled religiously because she couldn't stand the idea of anything being wasted. Once she yelled at me for pouring a leftover pot of boiling water down the drain. "You could let that cool and it could go on the plants, you know."

But my mother wasn't green. And God knows she wasn't politically correct. What she was, was a child of the depression. She was forever telling stories of having to wash the floor in her father's bar with a scrub brush, and the economies of sewing her own clothes.

So each night as I hear some new dire economic prediction on Kudlow and Company or Charlie Rose, I wonder, will we all learn to scrimp and save? I've already cut out the gym and lowered my thermostat. But more importantly, could that scrimping and saving be a good thing for us all, benefiting the culture and the planet in ways we couldn't predict?

HALLIE: Learn? I've always been green. AKA cheap.
Call me what you will, I have rarely buy paper towels or plastic wrap. Dish towels work. I mortified my kids by wrapping their peanut butter sandwiches in wax paper (not made of petroleum). Store leftovers in bowls with plates for lids. Compost organic waste. And of course nowadays I bring my own cloth bags to the grocery store.
We also eat a lot of beans--white, kidney, black.... Still a great bargain and very healthy.
And...tah dah...I used cloth diapers for both kids!

HANK: Yes, I remember asking you, Hallie, for a paper towel. And got a nice cloth instead.
Today I took back a container of fruit to the grocery store. The berries had gone bad, gray and fuzzy, in two days, and that meant the fruit was old when it was sold. In the past, I would have just tossed them, angrily.
Now. I saved $3.00 by taking back the fruit. I spent--how much? by driving there. But--here's what I'm learning. I only buy EXACTLY as much as I think we'll need. No more random handfuls of green beans. I think: One bunch for me, one for Jonathan, done. I'm not throwing away any more food.

RO:This is hard to answer..because in some ways I'm thrifty and green and in other ways not. I don't bring my own bag to the market but when I remember I ask for paper (when I have plastic ones I use them for dog poop, which I'm sure will horrify some people.) I've changed most of the light bulbs to the squiggly ones, don't use chemicals in my garden, and I'm very happy shopping at tag sales and thrift shops. I rarely eat meat which makes me feel good about both my health and the fact that I'm not a part of the ginormous beef industry. And we only have one car for the two of us. But I don't compost. That's my dirty little secret. I've tried it a few times and the raccoons drive me nuts.
Right now my refrigerator in CT isn't working. Bruce and I went food shopping and spent $34. Maybe we shouldn't bother getting a new one.
(BTW that gray fuzzy stuff on the berries is botrytis. If there's even a speck of it, your berries are goners.)

ROBERTA: I love seeing all those cloth bags at the supermarket! It's just a matter of getting the old brain cells to remember to put them back in the car.

Maybe some of you read the article in the NY Times this weekend about the couple who decided to try eating on a dollar a day for a month. They ate tons of beans and homemade tortillas and had to cut out almost all vegetables and fruits. The woman said she almost wept when the month was up and she allowed herself to have strawberries. But she also noted how time-consuming it is to cook from scratch. Bottom line, I worry less about the conserving my family has to do--I think it is a useful exercise for us and good for the world. But what about the folks who are already living on the edge? these times are going to be hard, hard, hard.if

JAN: Roberta's right, it's a lot easier to take satisfaction in scrimping when it's not a matter of survival. But I think all of us are going to find ourselves scrimping more and in all this gloom, there might be an upside. (Researchers are already predicting a decline in obesity because of fewer restaurant meals.)

I'd like to hear from everyone out there who may be viewing the world with new or even old-fashioned frugality.

On Halloween

Now what else is the whole life of mortals but a sort of comedy, in which the various actors, disguised by various costumes and masks, walk on and play each one his part, until the manager waves them off the stage ? **Erasmus, "The Praise of Folly"

Rosemary: The folks at cozy library discussion group recently asked what our favorite Halloween costumes were - as kids and as adults. I don't remember dressing up that much as a kid. I must have, because I certainly remember the candy - candy corn and tootsie rolls being my favorites. And I always hated those cellophane wrapped packages with the pastel colored disks in them. Yuck. What was that stuff? I do remember dressing up as a Volkswagen once when I was a teenager - that was my only memorable costume. It probably got uncool to dress for Halloween for a while. Then in my twenties, it got cool again.

When my husband and I worked for large companies we used to have great Halloween parties, lots of people. Sometimes the parties had themes. We had a Hitchcock party once. I decorated with birds all over the house, rope hanging out of a trunk and a bloodsplattered bathroom. One clever girl came as Marian Crane (from Psycho) complete with shower curtain and hooks. For the dead celebrity party, my fave partygoer was the guy who came as Marley's Ghost - Bob Marley, that is. Dreadlocks, chains. Ingenious.

In recent years I've been Cruella de Ville, Frida Kahlo (I made my husband dress as Diego Rivera), Jim Morrison, and various ghouls. This may be my favorite though - Wilma and Fred Flintstone. I'm Wilma.

HANK: They were NECCO's, Ro. (Made by the New England Candy COmpany.) In college, one year, we were all supposed to dress as a song title. I got some RIT dye (remember that?) dyed a sheet black and went as "She's Not There." (Kind of a reverse ghost idea, see?)

I've dressed up as a tea bag--brown leotard and tights, then covered myself with a plastic dry cleaning bag I filled with torn up pieces of orange and brown construction paper. I hung a string around my neck and at the bottom was a tag that said Constant Comment.

An old boyfriend and I went as spaghetti and meatballs. We created this enormous contraption, like a table, which we then hung from our shoulders with ropes. We covered the base with a red and white checked tablecloth. We stapled a big cardboard cone on top of it to hold the spaghetti. I cooked spaghetti, and figured I could just glue it to the cardboard thing.Well of course, that was ridiculous.

So I ended up sewing the strands to the cardboard with a huge needle and heavy thread. Then we covered brown paper bags with cotton balls, and sprayed them red and brown to look like meat balls, punched holes for eyes and put them over our heads.

We could not get the thing in the car, so we had to strap in onto the top. So imagine the spaghetti table flying down the Mass Turnpike, stands coming off along the way. When we got to the party, we stepped into the table of spaghetti and put the meatballs on our heads.

It worked, but it was hard to dance.
Two years ago, Jonathan and I were the Ark Family. I was Joan of Arc, and he was Noah.

Last year, I was too busy to make new costumes. So I printed out a new flag to replace the Fleur de Lis, put on a bandana, and went as Joan of Arkansas. (Jonathan was Noah of Arkansas, which I know makes no sense.)
Those are little animals pinned to his tunic, two of each, of course.

JAN: Hey, Ro, Bill and I went as Fred and Wilma Flintstone once, too -- those styrofoam balls from the crafts store make easy Flintstone jewelry. But my favorite costume was from the college years. My roommates and I hosted a party, in our lovely but pest-ridden apartment. Bill and I went as a cockroach and a can of Raid. I was the cockroach in a dark brown body suit with lots of attached legs and cute silver antennae. Bill got inside a huge wire cylinder we covered with paper?? Paper mache? Can't remember now, except that we had an artist friend who did an awesome job of copying the RAID logo and making it look just like the real can.
I also had a room-mate who was quite funny and notoriously loud. Bill and I carved a pumpkin to look like her, gave it an enormous mouth, stuck a radio inside it and squirted with her signature perfume. She had a good sense of humor and got a kick out of it.

HALLIE: You guys are aMAzing! I'm so impressed. You could have been contestants on Project Runway. (Don't you think they should have a challenge: making Halloween costumes?) The only memorable costume I ever made was a fried egg (a white sheet with a big yellow circle of fabric quilted over my stomach. I was pregnant which helped. Jerry went as a pencil wearing a bathing cap on his head for an eraser.
My kids always made awesome costumes. (Early on they felt this was child abuse). Naomi once made a cardboard box into a milk carton with a cutout for her face and under it HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHILD. Another year she went out painted green: the state of Florida. My (now grown) daughters still get together every Halloween and make costumes to go out.
Halloween is my favorite holiday.

ROBERTA: Funny thing that I can't remember childhood Halloween costumes at all. Now if we were describing dance recital outfits, I could tell you in detail...

But we had wonderful, wild parties when I was in graduate school. My very favorite costume was Wonder Woman. I wore a skimpy purple leotard, then made big felt breast plates with stars on them and sewed a short, flared skirt to match. I had a headdress of course, and knee-high maroon boots. It was the best. The next year, I sewed a Kermit the frog outfit which was technically gorgeous. The problem was no one knew who I was under all that green felt, so it got lonely. Then I ditched the frog and moved to Marilyn Monroe.

Love all these stories. We should definitely host a Jungle Red Writers Halloween party!

Ro: You're on!