Showing posts with label Barbara Early. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barbara Early. Show all posts

Sunday, March 2, 2025

For the Love of Jessica Fletcher by Barbara Early

LUCY BURDETTE: I love this essay from Barbara Early about Jessica Fletcher's history--she's now writing for the Murder, She Wrote series--it's fascinating! 


BARBARA EARLY: Murder, She Wrote recently celebrated a birthday. Fall of 2024 marked the 40th anniversary of the first episode hitting the airwaves. I suspect what initially attracted viewers was the star power: a Hollywood legend like Angela Lansbury taking the lead role, William Windom playing the loveable yet curmudgeonly small-town doctor, and a likeable Tom Bosley (after his fatherly role on Happy Days) assuming the equally likeable, if sometimes bumbling, role of sheriff of a small, picture-perfect coastal community in Maine. Guest stars abounded, drawing from Lansbury’s friends from the silver screen: Ernest Borgnine, June Allyson, Milton Berle, Kathryn Grayson, Jane Greer, Buddy Hackett, and so many more, as well as a host of television regulars and future names, like George Clooney, who was just starting his acting career.

But beyond the star appeal, Murder, She Wrote was revolutionary. Yes, there had been female detectives on television shows before, but most had a certain--what shall we call it--jiggly quality about them. Even if they were intelligent and capable, those attributes were coupled with also being young and sexy. And then here comes a fifty-something English teacher-turned novelist-turned amateur sleuth, and America—and the world—ate it up, with the series finishing among the top 15 shows in 11 of its long 12-season run.

It's hard not to think of Jessica as a pioneer paving the trail for those who followed. While cozy mysteries have existed since the Golden Age of Mystery in the 1920’s and ‘30s, I wonder how much of the explosion of the sub-genre in the ‘80s and ‘90s might be attributed to Jessica’s popularity. And without her, how would the mature female sleuth on television have fared? Would there be a Vera? An Agatha Raisin? A Harry Wild? A (Whitstable) Pearl Nolan?


Forty years later, new viewers and old are still finding Jessica on multiple cable channels and streaming services. There’s talk of a movie in the works, and NECA just released an action figure, complete with miniature typewriter. Of course, I bought one! And I was ecstatic to be offered a chance to write the sixtieth—yes, that 60—entry in the Murder, She Wrote book series. Along with Jessica Fletcher, of course. (wink, wink) 

For those fans of Terrie Farley Moran’s Murder, She Wrote books, don’t worry: she’s not done yet! It just seems that Jessica has been so busy discovering dead bodies that it’s taking more than one author to keep up with her! 

For my first entry in the series, I wanted to set it in that beloved town of Cabot Cove in the wintertime, with Jessica recovering at home from an accidental fall: lots of friends and neighbors stopping by, a copious amount of tea, and just a hint of Rear Window.

But don’t worry: the victim was only visiting, so no need to change that population sign on the road into town. Again.

Whether she’s a cop, a private eye, or an amateur, who is your favorite female television sleuth and why?


In a nod to Rear Window, this newest entry in the USA Today bestselling Murder, She Wrote series finds Jessica Fletcher coping with an injury that leaves her homebound—and a murder just outside her window!

Jessica Fletcher has taken a nasty spill on the ice, leaving her in a wheelchair for several weeks. She tries to work on her latest manuscript but finds herself distracted by a new neighbor moving in across the street. There’s good reason for her to be distracted, because soon after unpacking his sparse belongings, Mr. Rymer is out in the front yard, building somewhat risqué (read: naked) snow sculptures.

While Cabot Cove debates whether the sculptures are a protected form of art or a public display of lewdness, someone starts destroying them at night. Rymer doesn’t seem upset. He just makes new ones. No need to get the police involved over a little snow, he says. Especially when there’s plenty more of it and a blizzard in the forecast.

The morning after the storm, Jessica looks out the window to see a new sculpture across the street—and the body of Mr. Rymer half-buried in the snow. Can Jessica catch a cold-blooded killer from her chair by the window?

Murder, She Wrote: Snowy with a Chance of Murder by Jessica Fletcher, Barbara Early: 9780593820049 | PenguinRandomHouse.com: Books

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Bio: Barbara Early earned an engineering degree, but after four years of doing nothing but math, developed a sudden allergy to the subject and decided to choose another occupation. Before she settled on murdering fictional people, she was a secretary, a schoolteacher, a pastor’s wife, and an amateur puppeteer. She and her husband live in Western New York State, where she enjoys cooking, crafts, classic movies, campy vintage television, board games, and spending time with her two granddaughters. Before teaming up with Jessica Fletcher, she wrote the Vintage Toyshop Mystery series and the Bridal Bouquet Shop Mysteries (as Beverly Allen).


Friday, May 23, 2014

Barbara Early — Bloom and Doom


SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Welcome, Barbara Early! (AKA, Beverly Allen — Roberta/Lucy, you'll relate...)

Barbara and I met at Bouchercon last fall. It was about three in the afternoon — we'd both gotten cups of coffee and found a table near the booksellers. We both gave the same heavy sigh. We both had the same sore feet. But then, we started to talk. 


Lo and behold, our fatigue dropped away as we discovered we had a ridiculous amount in common. Such as — we're around the same age, we're both from the same itty-bitty suburb of Buffalo, New York, and not only had we written novels, but we'd both written novels using flower symbolism! Barbara's is Bloom and Doom, a delightful cozy mystery set in a flower shop. 

How did she get the idea? Is she a gardener? A florist? In charge of filling the vases at a country manor house? Read on....


BARBARA EARLY: Since the release of Bloom and Doom, I’ve had a couple of people ask me about flowers, as if I were a florist. After all, “write what you know” is probably one of the more bandied about writing rules. But before you hire me to make the bouquet for your daughter’s wedding, perhaps you should know the truth…

 I was overjoyed when one of my manuscripts attracted the attention of an agent. “I’ll work with you on it,” she said as she detailed its flaws (ouch!). “But I loved your voice, and I think you’d be a good match for a series that Berkley is looking for someone to write. Would you like to prepare a proposal?”

Now, cozies often revolve around popular crafts and pastimes. In my mind I ticked off the various skills I’ve dabbled with over the years. I’ve sewn, cross-stitched, embroidered, and knitted. I’ve cooked, baked, churned my own butter, decorated wedding cakes, made homemade chocolates, gardened, and learned how to can and preserve. I’d scrapbooked, decoupaged, made stationary from recycled paper, and dipped candles. And I have cats. 

“The protagonist is a florist who specializes in bridal bouquets.”

Flowers? 

Whoosh. That was the air being let out of my ego and enthusiasm at the same time.

What in the world did I know about flowers besides the fact that they made my nose run and my eyes red and watery, so much so that my husband was strictly limited to gifts of chocolate?

But bridal bouquets?

“Do you think you can do it?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

So I stuffed wads of tissues into my purse and visited florists. One let me poke around the back room and watch them work. Yes, I took notes of what tools and supplies they were using and witnessed the techniques I’d read about. But I was enthralled with the knife the florist was whipping around like the master chef in a Benihana restaurant. (You probably know where I’m going with this…)

After the contract, I managed to find a florist that was starting a new floral design school. I enrolled in their very first course. I got some hands-on experience with fresh flowers. I even left with an idea for a character: a chief of police who has terrible allergies. All of a sudden, every crime scene in town is filled with flowers.

Poor guy. I know how he feels.

When I first met Susan Elia MacNeal at Bouchercon in Albany, we both were writing novels that touched on the language of flowers. There’s something inherently mysterious and romantic about attributing meanings to flowers. I’m not talking about the modern florists’ version, where everything means some kind of love. (They’re out to sell flowers.)

But to many Victorians, flowers had distinct meanings. And not all of them were quite so romantic. Yes, red rosebuds meant “You are young and beautiful.” But the suitor who wasn’t careful could send the wrong (or maybe right) message with a few blooms. A spider mum (Fuji mum) might get the girl packing. It can mean “Elope with me.” A crabapple blossom, although pretty, could say “You are ill-natured,” while the ice plant says, “Your looks freeze me.” Ouch.

Some flowers are even well suited to mystery.  I had fun in the second book with foxglove, which can mean “insincerity.” Coltsfoot says, “Justice shall be done.”

And Monkshead warns, “A deadly foe is near.”

Ooh...



SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Lovely readers, do you have a black or green thumb? 

Would you rather have a bouquet or chocolate as a gift? 

And what kind of flower do you think would best symbolize you?


 Beverly Allen (aka Barbara Early) grew up buried in the snowy suburbs of Buffalo, NY, where she developed a love for all things sedentary: reading, writing, classic movies, and Scrabble. She holds a degree in engineering, but her creative streak caused her to run away screaming from the pocket-protector set. She taught secondary English and science for several years before home schooling her daughter successfully through high school. When not reading or writing, she enjoys cooking, crafts, home-improvement projects, and spending time with her husband, daughter, and four naughty, but adorable cats.

She cooks up cozy mysteries with a healthy dose of comedy and sometimes a splash of romance. Bloom and Doom, the first book in the Bridal Bouquet Shop Mystery series, released from Berkley Prime Crime in April.