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?

Choosing a Point of View

ROBERTA: So far all of my published books have been written in the first person. This made my job pretty straightforward. As long as I stuck to my character's point of view, stayed in her head, I couldn't write a word unless she heard, saw, or thought it. It was like writing with blinders on.

I'm trying something different in my new book. The book has two POV protagonists who alternate chapters. This of course widens the possibilities of where I can take the action, but it also raises lots of questions. For example, does it work if the chapters are not balanced between the two characters? Will it work to tell the story as one character sees it, and then back up and tell again from the other's POV? And when I reach points in the story where both characters will be present, whose head I should be in?

So I'd love to hear your opinions about point of view--how do you prefer to write and what do you prefer to read?

JAN: It really depends on the story and the author. I think if the author has a great voice the narration is often stronger in the first person. I loved Scott Turow in first person, like him less whenever he writes in third.

Like you Roberta, I'm trying to escape the prison of first person -- sort of. The story is told by an unseen narrator who writes in the first person, but can see everything. So the effect is ominiscient -- almost. I tried allowing my narrator to go into everybody's head whenever I felt like it, but my writers's group got confused. Now I allow the narrator into only one viewpoint at a time and shift it by section - much like you are doing. I'm making mistakes, but I feel there's no point writing if I'm not going to try to experiment and grow!

HALLIE: I confess I love a single narrator. But it does mean when your character gets stuck in a dungeon the reader's stuck there with him. Writing Never Tell a Lie, I started to feel claustrophobic when I got myself locked in an attic with my character Ivy.

The book I'm writing has occasional scenes narrated by different characters, so the reader knows more than my protagonist - it feels like a good way to build suspense. But I'm not sure those scenes will survive.

In the last Dr. Peter Zak book, Guilt, I alternated between two characters' viewpoints -- and then in the final crescendo short scenes snapped back and forth between them. It was hard, when both of those characters were in a scene, to decide who gets the viewpoint. How do you decide??

ROBERTA: Oh Hallie, I was hoping you'd answer that!

RHYS: When I conduct workshops I teach that every book has a point of view that works better than others. If the story is stalled or not going well, I tell them to try writing it in the first person to see where the characters themselves want to go. I have written in first and third and multiple points of view and I have to say that both Molly and Georgie's voices came so easily to me. I almost sit back and let them write. My only pet peeve in books is a story written in the present tense. It annoys me.

ROBERTA: Watch out Rhys--Hank's series is in the present tense:).

HANK: Oh, sorry Rhys. It's because of writing for TV news, I think. I love first person present, because it allows the reader to make mistakes along with the main character. To misjudge and misread and then make decisions based on those wrong perceptions. Because of course, as the author, I know what's correct and what's really happening. But I don't have to tell Charlie McNally.

But I wondered if I could do it another way--not sound like Charlie McNally, not be in present tense. SO I wrote a short story in third person, just to see, you know? And it was a completely different experience. And so--empowering.
I think--the story decides how it's written.

RO: As it happens, the manuscript I just delivered has two POVs. The second POV only occurs in a few chapters, but I felt I had to do it to tell the story I was telling. I think it works..we'll see what my editor says. It's challenging to write in the first person, and I like the idea that my character knows things just a few moments before the reader does, but it can be exhausting to keep coming up with new ways for her to get information she needs to solve the crime!

ROBERTA: Ok JR readers, please pitch in with your opinions. And then come back often this week--we have a great line-up. On Tuesday, visit with Chris Knopf, author of the Sam Acquillo mysteries, who will talk about setting books in the Hamptons and writing for a small press. On Wednesday, visit with Chester Campbell to learn everything you need to know about blog book tours. And on Friday, listen in as literary agent Paige Wheeler talks about the book biz right now.

Compassion Fatigue

ROBERTA: I recently submitted a section of my current opus to a couple of my reading buddies and was struck when one said: “I can’t believe your character would do that.” (I think the character in question was leaving his wife abruptly rather than confess to financial misdeeds.)

Lately, the paper is full of that kind of stranger than fiction stuff. Doesn’t it seem like another public figure goes down in flames every week? I don’t have any trouble buying that people do stupid things. (Although Blagojevich has taken this to a new level.) I can believe that Alex Rodriguez was feeling a ton of pressure about the high-paying contract he signed, and that he was immature and maybe (maybe!) naive. I can believe that Bill Clinton was dizzy with power and tired of being watched at every moment.

People are steeped in denial about their own weaknesses and motivations. We writers know that from our own lives and we exploit it fully in our characters. Where I get lost is when public figures get caught and then deny wrong doing. I'm thinking maybe we should all make a pact on Jungle Red: If one of us does something dumb, let's all remind her or him to fess up? Any takers? Or takes on the subject?

HALLIE: Confession: if there WERE a performance-enhancing drug for writing, I'd have long ago taken it. And inhaled. Then, despite my dozens of NY Times best sellers, I'd fess up, here and now. If only.

RO: No fair....Hank is quite perfect and the rest of us would look like losers.

HANK: Oh, now who's on drugs?

ROBERTA: So we need a new pact, then? If one of you guys comes up with a performance-enhancing drug for writing, we're all in?

JAN: Definitely in. The coffee isn't working anymore. But I did have a sports/energy drink the other day for tennis that I was going to try to apply to writing. I'll let you know.....

HANK: There was an amazing article in the NY Times a few months ago, and it haunts me every day. The bottom line was that people who are less than intelligent have NO idea they're dolts.

Here's what the experiment did, if I have it right. They gave a group of people a test. Then, afterwards, they asked each person how they felt they did. By a huge and indisputable margin, the people who said things like "Oh, I aced it" or "I knocked it out of the ball park" did poorly on the test.

The people who said--"oh, I don't know, I could have done better" or "I wish I could go back and answer some of those questions again" were the ones who, absolutely, did well.

To me, that explains so much. I mean, it's brilliant. If people have NO IDEA that they have no idea, doesn't that explain so much?

SO. We have Elliot Spitzer, who, I guess, figured he could do anything he wanted. The guy in Boston who said his name was Clark Rockefeller but it was really Christian Gerhartsreiter. The guy who crashed his plane so he could pretend he was dead.

The WOMAN WITH THE CHIMP. I mean, let's just stop right there.

RHYS: Right now I'd wrestle Hank for the performance enhancing writing drug! Two books a year is getting to be overwhelming. Also thinking of doing a James Patterson and hiring a mini-me.
But the people who astound me are all those millionaires who coughed up serious money to Madoff without any guarantees. Surely if you have millions you have financial advisors and you run any transaction through them. I suppose the simple answer is greed. Also the simple answer to the housing crisis. Mortgage bankers were just too greedy and people took loans too good to be true.

We are all wise, sensible and all around fabulous people. The problem will be when they write our tell-all biographies, will they have anything juicy to tell.
Okay, so my misspent youth but....

RO: You know...I met that chimp. A few years back, one of the owner's dogs followed Bruce home when he was out for a run and the dog wouldn't leave. We had to call the owner and drive the dog home..which was uh, untraditional with, as I recall, a horse trailer, a maybe an rv..it was like a travellers camp..you know..the Irish travellers..weird...and then the chimp came out...

HANK: Rhys, I definitely want to hear about your misspent youth. But it's RO they're gonna want in People Magazine for her close encounter of the primate kind. Now--what were we talking about,again?

ROBERTA: Did I meet you during my misspent youth, Rhys? Okay, JR Readers, pick a thread and do the best you can! If you don't like any of these topics, come back Tuesday for the amazing Nancy Pickard or Wednesday for the fabulous Kate Collins or Friday to hear psychologist Carolyn Kaufman talk about writing great fictional characters.

The Jungle Red Writers Inauguration Ball

ROBERTA: I read an article in the New York Times a week or so ago about how eagerly the Obamas are being sought as dinner and event guests in Washington. And we've all been reading about the expected crush of people attending the inauguration festivities. The Obamas are expected to be quite cagey about what they attend, as their presence will be interpreted in all kinds of ways they may not intend. Greatseats.com says this:

The "official" balls are organized and hosted by the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies in honor of the newly-elected President. In the past, these have included the Commander-in-Chief Ball, the Constitution Ball, the Freedom Ball, the Democracy Ball, the Independence Ball, the Liberty Ball, the Patriot Ball, and the Stars and Stripes Ball.

"Unofficial" balls and galas are hosted by any number of different organizations, including state societies, private industry, non-profit organizations and other special interest groups. Many of these events are invitation or member only, with tickets for these balls not necessarily open to the public.

The competition would be stiff, but I got to thinking we ought to throw a Jungle Red inaugural ball. What should we eat? What about our dress code? And how the heck do we draw the Obamas in? Maybe the "JRW salutes the writer in you inaugural ball"? For one thing, I'd like to plan it on the early side. I'm just no good at staying up late these days.

HANK: New shoes? Can we get new shoes? (Not the $700 ones, since Jan objects.)
And hey, my husband and I got an invitation, all parchment and embossed gold letters, to the Obama inauguration. Cool. But I fear it's somewhat like being invited to the, say, lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller center. Um, or to the grocery. I mean it's open to the public, right?

Two things: I admit to be intrigued by what Michelle Obama will wear. Call me shallow. Someone said on some TV show that inaugurations bring out the dowdiness in first ladies. I suppose it's because the dress will be in the Smithsonian exhibit. Which would be a bit daunting.

Also, I do have some standing here to discuss White House events, because as a reporter for Rolling Stone magazine, I covered Susan Ford's prom.

Anyway, I vote the decorations for the JR ball have to come from yard sales. And we have to dress as our favorite author. Wait, that's Halloween. We get the Obamas to come because we tell them: we're mystery authors and readers, and we know how to find the bad guys. And there are a lot of bad guys to get. Then we all have champagne.
ROBERTA: Hank, love the yard sale decorations! Maybe you could loan Michelle your black wedding dress? that was definitely worthy of the Smithsonian! Are you going to the ball? You can be our reporter on the scene...

RHYS: I am so envious that Hank got the official invitation! Just because I was getting the weekly updates from Obama's transition team AND he was following me on Twitter, I thought I was well and truly IN. Obviously not.
Why don't we have one of those murder mystery balls, with victim sprawling on floor, and everyone else trying to solve whodunnit? And you know what? We could invite sundry politicians and the CEOs of Wall Street and we could bump them off and nobody would ever find us out. Whaaa haaa haa. Rhys has changed from that writer who always gets reviews describing her work as "delightful" to an evil, scheming villainess. AND I'd wear red. I never wear red.

JAN: I just want to make clear Hank, I'm only outlawing $700 shoes for teenagers and those of us with large feet. Anyone who can actually afford $700 shoes or has to appear on television for whatever reason can spend as much money as they want on shoes.
And a superspecial exemption for inaugural balls and, oh heck, Emmy award ceremonies. But even though the rest of the media will skewer Michelle if she dresses down or makes the slightest fashion faux pas, I would be proud of her if she resisted the temptation to wear Monolo Blahniks or Jimmy Choos.

ROBERTA: Okay, so new shoes, red dresses, champagne, a murder mystery (though I'm a little concerned about all those secret service), and I definitely want dancing and great food. Suggestions and requests anyone? (And thanks for the Obama photo to Englino, for the crime tape photo to Daniel Y. Go, and for the dance photo to Patrick Q.)

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)

On Thanksgiving dinner

ROBERTA: It's hard to concentrate on writing right now because Thanksgiving dinner will be at my place next week. We'll be eleven. And so as hard as I try to focus on my new novel's synopsis, my mind wanders off to the menu. My husband's siblings will all contribute (the sweet potato casserole, the mashed potatoes and turnips, the brussel sprouts), leaving me with the turkey, the gravy, the stuffing, and the pies. Pies are easy--I'll bake a delicious pumpkin-maple pie and a chocolate cream pie, which is nontraditional but universally adored. But I agonize over the stuffing. It has to be homemade--no Pepperidge Farm bread cubes for me. One year when I lived in the South, I produced an oyster stuffing, which was expensive and labor-intensive. And no one has ever requested a repeat. Last year I tried a cornbread and sausage affair that horrified the vegetarians. I'll be happy to take suggestions from the floor. And what's your Thanksgiving dinner routine? Does the earth shake if you don't stick to the traditional menu?

Ro: Every Thanksgiving is different for me...from what we eat, to where we eat, who is there, and what day it is. (For years we had Thanksgiving on the Friday after T'day.) With three stepsons, assorted partners, ex-wives, new husbands and children from previous alliances...I just go where I'm told or ask for a head count (if I'm cooking.) I love everything on Roberta's menu so she doesn't know it, but I will be showing up at her place on Thursday.

When I have some say in the matter - aside from the turkey - I always make a cranberry tart. It's an old Martha Stewart recipe from the book Entertaining, which my husband published 26 years ago. It's foolproof, looks gorgeous and I could eat it everyday. If I'm cooking I like to watch videos in the kitchen while I'm preparing...Love, Actually, Miracle on 34th Street, and um...sometimes...Gladiator. ;-)


HANK: Ro, I just burst out laughing. (I have that cookbook. I'm going to look up that recipe this instant.)
Anyway. My little brother Chip, who is an environmental attorney in Colorado, was the one who always needed to have Thanksgiving be just the same every year. Long long ago, like, 35 years ago? My mother would make a jello mold (yup) black cherry jello with black cherries suspended in it. Decades later, when Jello-anything was far from our consciousness but we still all had Thanksgiving together, Chip was bummed because there was no cherry jello. It just meant Thanksgiving to him.

In other Thanksgiving news---when we were growing up, we had huge Thanksgiving dinners. So big, Mom would make two turkeys. Each year, she carefully made oyster dressing AND plain dressing. That way, one turkey could be delicious and pristine for us kids, and the other, filled with yucky disgusting slimy oyster dressing, could be reserved for the adults.

Fast forward again. I'm maybe 25. And in the kitchen watching Mom make the two turkeys. Without hesitation, she put oysters in the bowl of stuffing. And then proceeded to put oyster stuffing in BOTH turkeys. Mom Mom, I cried. Wait! You're putting oyster stuffing in both turkeys!

She gave me that Mom look. Of course I am, she said. I've been doing it every year of your life. I just told you kids there was plain stuffing so you would eat it.

ROBERTA: So do you make the oyster stuffing these days Hank? And Ro, we'd love to have you. Dinner's at 3. Bring the hubby and the dog--and the tart! What about the rest of you, Thanksgiving specialties anyone?
(Photo credits: dinner by orphanjones, cranberry pecan tart by bucklave, oyster by adactio)

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....

Straight from the Crime Bake

Four out of five Jungle Red Writers spent this past weekend at the New England Crime Bake in Dedham, MA. It was a smashing success! Consider penciling it in for next year, same weekend--great writers, great friends, agents and editors, and featuring guest of honor Sue Grafton...wow!

Meanwhile, here are some snapshots to enjoy. Above was the first panel of the day, including funny guys and gals Vinnie O'Neil, Steve Anable, Hank Ryan, Harlan Coben, and Kate Flora. To the right are Peter Abrahams, Katherine Hall Page, and Linda Barnes, 3 of the 4 members of the Hall of Famers, which Roberta Isleib had the pleasure of moderating. And seen at the cocktail party, Sheila Connolly, Susan Conant, and her daughter, Jessica Conant-Park.






And here are Roberta and Hallie, posing for a moment in the hallway:

Actually, the place was crawling with authors! Here are Alex Carr, Toni Kelner, and Lynne Heitman. Hank did a marvelous job of organizing the entertainment at the banquet, a hilarious panel of authors and publishing dignitaries telling big lies. Agent Janet Reid and Bleak House editor Ben LeRoy were among the rowdiest...
Next year, come to Crime Bake!

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!

You Can Leave Your Hat On.... Randy Newman

Anyone who remembers the movie Nine and a Half Weeks will have one recollection of that line, but...get your mind out of the gutter! This blog is really about hats. Long ones, tall ones, short ones...crazy ones..as Eric Burdon might say (I guess I'm in a musical mood.) What is it about hats? Who wears them and why? Is it a genetic predisposition like blue eyes or lefthandedness? And what's the difference between those of us who buy hats and those of us who actually wear them?
Maybe I'm inspired by the wonderfully inventive Cha-Poe created by Liz Zelvin for last spring's Malice hat contest. (She won, of course!)


Or our recent pic of Jan in her saucy Norma Shearer-like wedding chapeau.
Or maybe it was my dentist. I may have the coolest dentist on the planet. Not only does she keep my pearly whites, um, pearly, but she is a photographer, a diver, and an adventuress. She's been everywhere, keeps exotic pets and everything in her apartment is from some far flung destination. If this was the thirties, she'd be Jean Harlow singing for her supper on a Chinese junk and engaging in drinking contests with Mongolian warlords. And the winner would get the big furry hat. Because she also has a worldclass hat collection.

This is one she just gave me -



btw...Caroline if you're reading this the butterfly fell off..I didn't take it off! After a few glasses of wine we agreed it looked fabulous. (I thought it was Italian movie star from the 50's ...she thought Lara in Dr. Zhivago. In my dreams...) But will I ever leave the house with this thing on my head? Or will it stay in the box like the $600 Tracey Tooker number that I bought for a wedding and wore only once because I felt like I couldn't move my head all afternoon?


ROBERTA: I'm also in the camp that buys hats and very seldom wears them--except for baseball caps for the sun. Reason why? I look at pix taken after the fact and I look darned silly. Take for instance the straw boater that I bought after much agonizing and wore to my first-ever member-guest golf tournament with my mother-in-law as my guest. The picture is priceless because it marked the beginning of our relationship, but that hat perched on my head like a dying possum. My tennis friends made fun of me for years for wearing a white cap with a big sunflower in front. When the flower fell off, I still wore it with the glob of glue that used to hold it. I did find success with a headdress I created for a toga party during grad school days--it had fake ivy and large plastic dangling fruit. That one was a winner!

RO: We want pix!!

JAN: This is the deal with hats: They are a commitment. You put one on, it flattens the hair underneath, and you are stuck wearing it the entire day or until the next hair wash and dry.
The only time I actually wear hats is when I'm playing tennis in the sun, when I'm on the Vineyard and waiting until AFTER the beach to wash my hair, and on really bad hair days.
My cousin has a terrific boutique in New Jersey. I've bought any number of hats there. Really cool Eric Javits hats.
But after purchase, I generally don't wear them. Why? This is the first time I've really thought about it, but it's probably because cool hats call a lot of attention to themselves. And they tend to be just the tinest bit pretentious-looking when you wear them on your way to, say, the supermarket.

RO: Is that why people were looking at me when I was at the deli counter with this thing on?

HALLIE: Like Jan, I love hats...in principle. But the fact that I had nothing to put on my head at my own wedding (I'd forgotten about it) tells you something. I have an old battered straw hat and some baseball caps but they're just to keep the sun out of my face.
One of my favorite books of all time is "The Five Hundred Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins" in which our hero, when commanded to take off his hat by the King, tries to comply, but another hat even more glorious than the last appears in its place.

HANK: Hats. Bikinis. Not a chance. Up in my off-season closet there's a beauty. A straw sun hat, with a lovely Libery of London fabric band. The front flips up, the back goes down. I wore it in 1972 to my sister's wedding. It still looks good, but the moment I clamped it on my head, as Jan so correctly says, that was it for the hair. (Even when it was long and brown, which it was at the time.) What more, turns out my head is huge. There was the time I was doing an investigative report on fish inspection. Or--how they're not inspected. One day, we were allowed to shoot inside a fish processing plant down by the water front. Pungent, and waterlogged, and fish guts all over. And they demanded we wear hats. Paper baseball caps, you know? Health rules. So they tried to find one that would fit me, and even the largest was too small. Apparently the health rules don't care about fit, so they parked one, precariously, on my head, and called it a hat. I called it ridiculous. The good news: we won a big award for the story. The bad news: guess what they showed in the video clip at the awards ceremony?

RO: What's on your head?

On the Wedding Season

“Going to the chapel and we’re gonna’ get married…” The Dixie Cups

“Long-distance chats with Jeanine about the gowns had begun just after she and Rick made the formal announcement of their engagement. Recently they’d mounted into a daily blitz. Should she choose the purple, which she called “aubergine,” (appropriate for a fall wedding and guaranteed to burnish the bridesmaids’ complexions to glowing) or the forest green (best suited as a background for the golf theme tableware and centerpieces)? The aubergine, Jeanine informed me, would open the door to the lily family. The green, on the other hand, might call for white or yellow roses. And the roses would lend themselves to an elegant but more formal arrangement. She had been frozen. She obviously preferred the purple, but was unable to surrender the golf-theme tie-in. My best friend, Laura, hypothesized that brides frequently focused on this sort of detail in order to avoid confronting the enormity of the leap they were about to make.” Cassie Burdette in FAIRWAY TO HEAVEN.


ROBERTA: Ah the wedding season—how many are you invited to this summer? We’re up to four, including a destination event in Homer, Alaska. Things are a little different from the old days—it seems to be de rigueur to have a wedding website, chronicling every personal detail from “the proposal” to bios of the bridesmaids. And never mind the one night out on the town for the “boys”—the bride has a bachelorette party, too, which can involve a separate destination weekend. One of my nephews attended a bachelor party that called for a week of surfing in Fiji. (OK, that’s tough duty for a surfer!) And did you see the Style section of the NYT last Thursday about brides who're insisting on botox or boob enhancement for the bridesmaids?

Not that I didn’t have obsessions too: after all, I’d been through a divorce and was marrying a man with two young children who were none too happy about the addition of a wicked stepmother. But they were low-budget obsessions. I sewed the flower girl’s dress myself, along with a matching ring-bearer’s pillow. And we decided to throw the reception in our backyard and do most of the cooking. When I ran out of all those projects, I spent hours hemming 150 cloth napkins in various blue and pink flowered cotton fabrics. Honestly John began to think he was marrying a fruitcake.

Now it’s your turn, JRW, how did you manage your wedding jitters?

HALLIE: I don't remember why, but I do remember walking down the aisle in tears. My wedding was at my parents Manhattan apartment. Simple, low key--I sent the invites, my mother did the flowers, and people who came still remember the food which came from the Rainbow Grill (they were a client of my then brother-in-law). My dress was white crocheted cotton lace from Fred Leighton’s in Greenwich Village. I was so oblivious that I didn’t even have a slip to put under it or anything to wear on my head.

My father got a record of the bridal march from the library and played it on the phonograph, and I marched from the bedroom into the living room.

The rabbi from Columbia University officiated, and he’d just been fired for advocating for rioting students (it was ’69). He wore purple robes and cowboy boots, and went on and on and on while we waited to break the glass and be declared man and wife. He was probably more than a little drunk. In the middle of his speech or sermon or whatever the heck he was going on about, my father, not so sotto voce, asks, “Is he trying to marry them or talk them out of it?”

RO: That's a great line...but why am I surprised..?
I remember wanting to BE married, but not so much GET married. Early in the process someone asked me if I wanted little sprigs of rosemary stuck in the napkins. I thought she was insane (although now it seems like a nice touch..) After that, my husband's assistant - now a vice-president at Random House - planned most (all) of my wedding. I've often thought of it as a trial run for her own wedding ten years later.

We got married at the Central Park boathouse and gondoliers ferried guests around all evening. I pretty much just bought the dress, chose the flowers and showed up. I asked my bridesmaids to wear any long, dark blue dresses they liked. (I still have one asparagus fern and lots of baskets from that night.)

Showing up was a little harder since my husband and I went to a Knicks playoff game that afternoon - this was back in the day when they still had a good team. The Cleveland Cavaliers were in town and had lost badly in the first game of the series so they had something to prove. We were worried the game would go into overtime..and so was my (gorgeous) maid of honor and bridesmaid who were nervously waiting for me at the Plaza hotel. I finally got there, but hadn't had time to get hair done so my MOH rubbed a little Kiehl's Silk groom in my hair, gave me some bubbly and fluffed up my big white dress. It was like that scene in Miss Congeniality where Sandra Bullock looks frumpy at the beauty pageant and all of the other contestants help her look good.

In the lobby we bumped into the Cavs who were also staying at the hotel. BTW, they beat the Knicks 90-84.

HANK: I was 46. Jonathan 56. So I decided to go for it with the dress. My mother said, "You can't wear that! It's a Barbie dress!" But I loved it and still do.

My wedding jitters? Turned out to be lovely. We got married at the Four Seasons, just family, then had a big big big party at a wonderful restaurant called Salamander. The rabbi was half an hour late--he got caught in the traffic of a road race--so we had the champagne first. And talked and hung out and played Grieg's Wedding Day at Trollhagen, which still makes me happy when I hear it.

But the hour or so before the wedding, I was almost all dressed, and suddenly, I began to panic. Not about marrying my wonderful Jonathan, but about the production. What if--the food was bad? What if--the band was terrible? What if--the relatives didn't like each other? What if--no one had fun?

And then I thought--hey, every bride feels like this. Every bride in the history of the planet has had a moment when they have the jitters over something or other--the cake, the food, her dress, the flowers, the weird relatives, dancing the first dance, runny mascara. (Having no slip, or being late, or wanting to hem all the cloth napkins). And I was just filled with joy--to be so cosmically connected to all those other almost-brides--that I almost burst into tears.

And then I was fine.

JAN: I was the youngest and only girl. Plus, I put off my original engagement to my husband and made my parents wait an additional four years before I got married. They wanted to throw this party in the worst way. Although, I didn't know I was doing it at the time, I made a very strategic decision: I agreed to get married on my parents anniversary and wear my mother's wedding gown. My mother then took over the planning -- which was great because I was busy working at a paper in Worcester and the wedding was in Jersey. She picked a great location, a very classy country club with excellent food, hand wrote all the invitations and over-rode my instincts of frugality. The only thing I did was pick the band - which was Dixieland Jazz.

Probably the best part was at the ceremony when the priest made us take a moment and remember my brother who had passed away. My brother had set me up with my husband, who had been his college roommate. This moment made me feel like my brother was there with us, the missing best man. So, just like Hank and Hallie, I had tears running down my face. Really good tears.

ROBERTA: oh my gosh, every one of you is gorgeous, adorable, stunning...hope all the couples getting married this season will have the same kind of lovely memories ...

Stuff

..."that's the whole meaning of life isn't it, trying to find a place for your stuff..' George Carlin



RO: All right, maybe not the whole meaning of life, but there are times when the dear departed GC seems to be right on the money.
I suffer from it in silence all year long, but once or twice a year I have a full-blown outbreak of TMS - too much stuff. Which, as Carlin pointed out, you have to store, move, clean, worry about, etc.
My solution to this affliction hit me a few years back when I had some work done on my house. There was a giant dumpster parked in my driveway for months. One day I tossed in a small item, ...who remembers, a broken flower pot or garden tool. A light bulb went off. I started combing the closets looking for small things to throw away that wouldn't get in the way of the sheet rock. Then I asked the contractor if it would be alright for me to throw in a wicker lounge chair that was threatening to fall apart. He looked at me like I was crazy - "It's your dumpster."
I flung the rickety chair into the dumpster. I was briefly overjoyed. Then I climbed in and took it out. Had I made a mistake? I'd made a similar one when a friend told me he knew how to use a chainsaw and the sight of him shirtless caused me to say "sure, take down that one, too." (I've spent five years trying to fill in that spot in my garden.) Two days later the lounge chair made it back into the dumpster.



Now every 2-3 years I rent a 6ft dumpster. But I'm smart enough to have a staging area. If an item sits in the driveway for 2 days, it goes in the dumpster. I've had neighbors come by and ask if they can go dumpster diving.
The dumpster is in the driveway....



JAN: I have often thought that the real appeal of vacation homes isn't the fabulous beach or ski mountain. It's the fact that there isn't that much of your stuff there. So you feel so much freer.
At any rate, I once subscribed to Flylady, which is sort of a manic housewife gone wild. She sends you daily emails, which can be irritating. But the one of most value was the one that made you go throw out something like 33 things in your house each week. It's so much easier than you think and it feels really good. Unfortunately, Flylady also wanted me to keep my kitchen sink clean and POLISHED. And when I tried that, I started to develop hostility toward anyone else who used the kitchen sink. Husband, kids, strangers who wanted to wash their hands.... Anyway, Flylady had to go. But now that you mention it....maybe I'll go throw out 33 things in her honor.



RO: Any significance to the number 33? Was she drinking Rolling Rock at the time? I think that's the number on the back of the bottle. BTW..I threw out 6 pairs of shoes and 4 handbags today. I feel as if I lost weight. That means I have 23 items to go.



JAN: I'm guessing Flylady for a daiquiri girl or maybe a whisky sour or mint julep. Definitely not beer. And I'm not exactly sure it was 33. It could have been 27. It was definitely a two digit, odd number, though. Memory is good for that much.



HALLIE: When Jan started saying "the real appeal of vacation homes isn't the fabulous beach or ski mountain..." I was sure she was going to say that the appeal is that they provide space for all the overflow junk that has no place in your home.
My husband has a terrible time throwing things away, and I try to ignore it--seems trivial relative to the pleasure he brings me on most other fronts. But we did have a small breakthrough when he threw away a teeny weeny red polo shirt that his mother had sewn a nametag into the collar. We're talking junior high. I told my daughter Molly about it and she immediately asked if it had already been picked up because she wanted it.
Definitely genetic.



RO: Oooh, I can't believe he threw that away. That was a keeper.



ROBERTA: OOh Ro, we have a dumpster in our driveway too. But I would never order one on purpose! This is related to construction to repair some chronic leaks. I'm going down to the basement now and start to work on my 33/27. Question: if you throw away a pair of shoes, that counts as two items, right? And do they count double if they belong to my husband? (Ro: Absolutely!)
And this brings up a separate but related question. When is it ok to clear stuff out of your grown kid's room and make it into a decent guest room? I was astonished to learn that one of my friends completely renovated her daughter's room last summer as she was getting married. (She was 22.) I'm not suggesting tossing those grade school soccer trophies into the dumpster, just maybe move them to a box in the attic???



And hey, we can make this topic into a pact: In order to post on JRW, you have to report what you threw out:)

HANK: Whoa. Am I the wrong one to talk to. I have: playbills from all the plays we've seen. That's LOTS of plays. Tee-shirts emblazoned wtih every event I've gone to. I mean: BOXES of tshirts. (Bruce Springsteen at Fenway. The Police at Foxboro. The original HELP T-shirt with the Beatles from 1967 or whenever. The 1980 Olympics/CBS News (I worked for a CBS station then) when it turned out the US didn't go.)

It's Mom's fault. She threw away all my Beatle magazines and DC comics and MAD MAgazines from the 60's, and wouldn't they be worth a lot now? So you never know what's going to be valuable. I always say.

Our problem, if it's a problem, we have a third floor. It used to be an apartment, but after the lovely teacher who lived there moved, I decided we needed the room. Rooms. So: the living room is now a guestroom. One bedroom is storage. We won't go into that. (Wrapping paper. Gifts for all occasions. Stacks of books written by pals that I give as presents. Toys for all ages, jsut in case somene comes over who needs a toy.The out-of-season slipcovers.) One room is a cedar closet. One room is: oh, I can't even reveal this. Shoes and purses.

Last week I gave ten mammothly huge bags of clothing to a church charity. I mean--lots of great stuff. And it was so exciting. I'm now craving to get rid of stuff. Can't wait to clear it out. Shoes count as ONE thing, you guys.

And let me tell you--it's fantastic karma to give things away. Do it.

So question for you. How many white tee shirts does one person need?

And I agree, Roberta. Tell.

RO: And what gave you the most pleasure to get rid of...This time it was a chaise cushion that had somehow turned into my husband's blankie. It was disgusting. And now it's gone :-)

Six Word Memoir

RO: This is tougher than it sounds...it least it has been for me. I was visiting the blog of a lovely gardener from New Zealand who had been tagged with the Six Word Memoir. Now, I'm not that interested in going through the whole "I'm tagged, you're tagged" thing, but the notion of being able to describe oneself in just six words is pretty intriguing.I loved HERS....Still growing after all these years, but I can't very well use that, can I?

My husband suggested "I've got a lot of work." And it's a pretty good one. I've always had a lot of work...ever since I was a kid. Granted, most of it is of my own making - everything from "I must make the doll clothes now!" (age eight) to "I will go to El Salvador in the middle of my book tour - I can do it, it will only be a week" (last March.) I seem to pack a lot in to every day.

What would your six word memoir be?

JAN: "Wondering where she left her purse?" or more optimistically, "Trusting she will find her purse."

RO: Too funny!!

HANK: Ever since I first heard about this 6 word thing, I've been fascinated. The book with many of them "Not Exactly What I Had Planned" (a great one) explains the legend. Hemingway was once asked to write a short story in six words. He wrote: For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
Legend or not, wow. My favorite favorite favorite so far, which I do wish I had thought of, and lust after for myself, isEnglish major. You do the math.
Mine might be: Working, hoping, trusting. And, gratefully, happy.or: Are the black ones size nine? or: Wishing for latte, will accept coffee.or: Trying once more. It could happen.
Yeah, I especially like that one.

ROBERTA: how about "too much pressure, brain might explode"?

RO: Well, if we're going to be funny..."where are my black cowboy boots?" and the classic... "Does this make me look fat?"

Agatha Award Winner Hank Phillippi Ryan!

Congratulations!!!
Three cheers for JRW's own Hank who was awarded the coveted Malice Domestic teapot this weekend for Best First Mystery. Hurray!!!

RO: This week is the equivalent of Oscars week in the mystery community. We couldn't be more thrilled for our own Hank who faced tough competition from Deanna Raybourn, Beth Groundwater, and Charles Finch but snagged the Agatha for Prime Time!

Malice Domestic has just wrapped up, Mary Alice Gorman's Festival of Mystery is tonight and by the time my driving buddy, Liz Zelvin, and I roll into New York it will be time for the Edgars.
Malice will always hold a special place in my heart because it was my first mystery convention and they say you never forget your first. Typical New Yorker, I went to breakfast on Friday with my Ipod and a newspaper - which I never read or listened to because of the chatty Pari Noskin Taichert who was sitting next to me and must have thought I looked lonely so she decided to introduce me to Patsy from Remember the Alibi and a few other folks who stopped by to say hello and then moved on. If you haven't been, Malice is that kind of show - lots of friendly people, fun panels, and yes, there's the bar. No men in g-strings or chaps like the Romance show (uh, at least I didn't see any...Hank?) but maybe we can talk to the organizers about that for next year!

HALLIE: Today I'm at the wonderful Mystery Lovers Bookshop's 13th! (a lucky number in the mystery world) annual Festival of Mystery. It's one of my all time favorite events ever, and Mary Alice Gorman and Richard Goldman are THE BEST FRIENDS of the mystery writing community.
My first mystery event was the big enchilada, Bouchercon in Denver back in...could it be 2001? I took a van to the hotel from the airport and shared it with two delightful librarians from Wisconsin. I still remember the huge red rolling suitcases they had--they told me it was filled with books they were going to get signed. I knew then that I'd died and gone to heaven.

ROBERTA: I am JUST back from Malice. I think my first appearance there was in 2000, before I was published. It's so much more fun now--full of meeting with old friends, making new ones, and Sisters in Crime business. We were so thrilled to see Hank accept her teapot for best first mystery!!! A perfect conclusion...

Ro: Jan...we MISSED you, Hallie, see you later and Hank....way to go!

THE VAMPIRE BALL

ROBERTA: Now I'm going to whisk you around Friday night's vampire ball--it truly was amazing! Top left: See if you recognize two rather well-known mystery writers, Harley Jane Kozak and Alexandra Sokolof--I sure didn't! Top right: The ball brought out the "fangs" in fellow author Shane Gericke, pictured with our own Hank and Lisa Daily. The others are random costumes that I loved! Now Hank and Ro and I are off to Malice Domestic and Hallie to Ohio. I think Jan is in charge of holding the JR fort. Have a great weekend and don't forget to add a comment to be entered into the t-shirt drawing...