What You Say About SAY NO MORE!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  I wish I could show you what I'm writing right now, because it might be fabulous. Or not. But I'm not sure, and you'll be the first to know when I decide. (It has to be done in three months, so I'd better decide pretty darn fast.)

But I am thrilled thrilled thrilled to be about to go on the road with SAY NO MORE--which is getting one hundred per cent fabulous reviews! (PW called it "Engrossing" (among other laudatory words) with a "conclusion that thrills and gratifies" and Booklist called it skilled and compelling and timely! And Kirkus starts with "Boston's smartest and sexiest team is back.." and continues just as wonderfully.) 

So see below to win an advance copy of SAY NO MORE!

Anyway.  One of the things I love about his book (as the reviewers also do! :-) is not only the Jake and Jane team, but the three other major characters. One is Willow Galt. And in this part of the book, she's just witnessed a murder--or has she? And she called the police. 

Now her husband is not happy.

So read this snippet below.

And then afterward, I have a question. Because I need your help.

from SAY NO MORE

 Willow Galt

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Willow buried her face in Tom’s shoulder, clutching his arm, breathing in his citrus and coffee fragrance, feeling the damp skin of his neck on her cheek. They’d be fine. They would.  She’d done the right thing. The police were gone. She’d explained it all the moment Tom walked in the door. As they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, together, her voice following him, she’d told him the whole story. Most of it. And now she was safe, safe in his arms.

 “They hardly stayed ten minutes.” Her words—fudging on the time just the smallest bit, but how could that matter--went into the wilting collar of Tom’s pale blue shirt. She felt the knot of his loosened tie against her own throat. He was home, and everything would be all right.

“Willow.” Tom’s voice had a knife edge, her name a slash as took one step away from her. “Why in hell would you do that?”   

She felt his words, cutting through her very being. She couldn’t move.

“Honey? I’m sorry.” Tom came closer again, put his hands on her, one on each bare shoulder.

She could feel his heat as if he were the sun, her private sun. As long as he kept touching her, she’d be fine.

 “I know it’s nerve-wracking for you,” he said. “But why would you call the cops? It’s the last thing… You allowed the cops into our house?”

“What else could I do?” She would float off the floor without those hands grounding her.

But Tom had turned away again, back to the window, flattening his palms on the pane, peering out.

Willow tried to look through his eyes, see the tree, Avery’s back yard, the forsythia hedge, that dark blue watery corner of the pool. Her brain revved with anxiety, she needed another pill, so maybe she hadn’t really seen it? But she had.  The dog barking and barking. The dark shape in the water, and someone leaving. Maybe.

It was wrong, and awful, and she, a human being, could not ignore that.

“No one’s down there now,” Tom said, talking to the window. “Are you sure? What you saw? What time was it? The person who calls 911 is always a suspect, Willow. Haven’t you learned anything?”

She felt her resolve failing, her knees unreliable. Should she have turned her back on Avery?

“I had to call, didn’t I?” She needed to explain. “I had no idea she was dead. What if she wasn’t dead? What if there was a burglar? The dog was so upset, and I’m here by myself, and--”

Tom touched one finger to her lips. “Shhh,” he said.

He kissed her palm, then lowered her arm to her side. She stood, still feeling the ghost of his kiss as he moved away from her and went back to that window.

“I can’t cut myself off from the world, Tom,” she whispered. “No matter what happened back home.”

“We’re not talking about that.” Tom turned, then straightened the lampshade, tilting the white pleated fabric. “This is home. All the other is gone, over, in the past. No, not in the past. It never happened. It’s erased.  We weren’t there. I’m Tom, you’re Willow, and so it shall be.”

Willow. She’d bend like a willow in the wind, whatever she had to do to survive, she’d do it. That’s why she picked the name. And maybe Tom was right. Maybe she’d been wrong to call. Maybe someone else would have called, and then the police would have gone to someone else’s house. But now she’d made her bed, their bed, and they’d both have to face the consequences.

“The police will come again. They said so.” She felt the tears welling, tears of fear and uncertainty. “What will I tell them? What will you?”

Tom pulled the tie from around his neck, then silently coiled the strip of fabric around his hand, pulling it, striping his hand in red and black silk. Willow saw his fingers flex. Then he unwrapped the tie, one loop, then another, then another. Hung it on a steel hook next to his others in his closet, smoothed it flat.

“We’ll tell them the truth.” Tom unbuttoned his shirt, one white button at a time, as if it were a difficult task, important and significant. “Our new truth."

HANK: So here's my question. Reds and readers: Do you think this would be a good section to read out loud if someone on book tour asks me to?   Do you enjoy when an author reads from their book? 

(And don't forget, Bouchercon-goers: WHAT YOU SEE is an Anthony nominee!)

And one lucky commenter will win an ARC of SAY NO MORE!

What We're Writing? Hank says: Sisters,Sisters!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I love when there's a theme! And better yet, we didn't plan it.

 Yesterday Hallie talked about her sisters--and all the writing prompts that come from them.
I have three sisters,Nina, Nancy and Liz. (Less famous, but none the less just as fascinating.)  But I don't so much write about them as about sister relationships.

Which (because this is What We're Writing Week and I get Tuesdays!) brings us to WHAT YOU SEE--my new Jane Ryland book about surveillance, hidden cameras, and clandestine video. (It comes out October 20. But you can order it right now, just saying.) 

WHAT YOU SEE--which illustrates, of course, that What You See is not always the truth---is the first real up close introduction to Jane's younger sister Melissa, who, because she's like that, insisted on being called Lissa for her entire life until recently, when she decided Melissa was more appropriate for a partner-track lawyer, and so eschewed nicknames.

Melissa, because she's like that, is also getting married the weekend of WHAT YOU SEE, and has come to Boston to pick up her flower girl, 8-year-old Gracie, the daughter of her fiancé Daniel and his ex-wife. And take her back to Chicago for the festivities. (Jake and Jake are going to the wedding! But more on that another day.)

Jane is embroiled in her first story in a long time--trying to clinch a job at Channel 2, and the murder she's been assigned to cover might just be her ticket back to TV. It's noon, in summer, and she's in Curley Park, just outside Faneuil Hall Marketplace, where law enforcement and EMTs are now converging on a murder scene.

But in the midst of it all, Lissa, I mean Melissa, calls Jane. After some explanation of how her fiancé  is stuck at the airport in Geneva, she drops the bombshell.  "We can't find Gracie," Melissa says.

And so--a snippet of Chapter 8.

Chapter 8

   “You can’t find Gracie?” Jane closed her eyes briefly, trying to blank out the crowd and the whirling red lights of the ambulance and the muttering undercurrent as gawking onlookers dissected the scene before them, voices dimmed in respect or horror. Melissa had finally gotten to the point, but that didn’t mean Jane understood it.

“What do you mean, ‘can’t find’ Gracie?”

“What part of ‘can’t find’ do you not understand, Jane?” Melissa’s voice, taut and demanding, grated through Jane’s cell. Melissa was relentless when things didn’t work her perfect way.

Jane poked an available finger into her non-phone ear, trying to block out the wail of an approaching siren. Failed. She looked up, frowning, scoping out the situation. The EMTs still knelt by the victim. Why did they need another ambulance? She couldn’t shoot any video while she was talking on the phone. She turned her back on the whole thing. She’d give Melissa thirty seconds. Thirty charitable seconds.

“I understand ‘can’t find,’ Melissa.” Jane kept her voice careful, no need to add to her sister’s distress. “You mean Gracie’s late coming home for lunch or something? She’s not where she’s supposed to be?”

“Her mother—have you met her? Robyn with a y? Is going nuts,” Melissa said. “She’s the neediest person imaginable. But anyway, Gracie. She comes home from school for lunch. Thanks to Daniel’s incredibly generous child support, they send her to Brookline Charter, close to their—well, anyway.” Melissa was interrupting herself now, no need for Jane to try.

Jane kept her eyes closed and head down, the only way she could focus and not be distracted by little things like, say, her job and a murder. Both of which she was now, to her certain detriment, ignoring.

“. . . but they haven’t come home,” Melissa was saying. “Robyn called the school, but she says they said Gracie left with her stepdad as usual, and that was that. We’ve called him, but he’s not answering his cell.”

Jane’s call-waiting beeped in, an insistent little chirp that demanded her attention. Channel 2. Of course, wanting to know what she’d discovered. “I’m on the phone with my sister” was not a good answer.

“Hang on,” Jane said.

“Ja—!”

Jane winced, frustrated with this whole juggling thing. If Gracie was really gone, truly gone, whatever “gone” meant, naturally that trumped anything. But Gracie was with her stepfather, right? And Melissa always overreacted.

“This is Jane,” she said.

“Jane? You there? What’s the scoop? Is there a suspect? Can you confirm a murder? This is Derek at the assignment desk, BTW. It’s been more than fifteen mins since we got you past the rookie cop—you need any more help?”

“I, um—” He was kidding, right? Jane didn’t need any help.

“You got video?” Derek kept talking. “Interviews?”

“Definitely,” she said. She looked up, squinting. Noontime shadows made dark puddles at each onlooker’s feet. Two of the EMTs were standing now, the other pointing the medical examiner to the man sprawled on the brick walkway. They clicked open the legs of a collapsible metal gurney. The crowd stepped back, as one, as if the medics needed additional room for this delicate procedure.

“Listen, Derek, no cops are talking yet. The ME is here. They’re moving the victim now. Gotta get a shot of this, gotta go, I’ll call you back.” She hung up before the editor could give her more instructions. Or more criticism. Jane had this, no problem, she simply needed to do it her way. Back to Melissa.

“Lissa, it’s me, I’m sorry, I had to—”

“She’s fine.” No more stress in Melissa’s voice?

“What?” Jane tried to process what her sister said. “She’s what?”

“Fine. She just called, she’s fine. She’s with her stepfather. Robyn’s husband, Lewis. Evidently the left hand didn’t know—anyway, I’ll keep you posted on the drill for the rest of the day soon as I can.”

“Great,” Jane said, happy Melissa was not there in person to witness the massive eye roll. But Jane had been the good sister, on the outside, at least. Now she could go back to her real life without a guilty conscience. “Glad it all worked out, Liss.”

“So we’ll see you tonight, then? And finally get to meet your Jack?”

“Jake,” Jane said. Counting to ten, backward, got to nine. “Jake Brogan.”

“Jo-king,” Melissa singsonged. “TTYL.” And hung up.

The woman was a partner-track lawyer, for God’s sake. Who would say ttyl out loud? But at least Gracie was fine. Another personal life disaster successfully solved.

Now to get her professional life back. She picked up the video camera and headed for the action. The ambulance doors were still open. She hadn’t missed a thing.

*******************************

HANK: But of course, it's only Chapter 8. 

So let's talk about sisters and weddings, just like Jane and Melissa. Jane's the maid of honor.  What's your favorite sister-wedding story?  Or what's your favorite FICTIONAL wedding? (I think I vote for---The Philadelphia Story.)

And  pssst. I have an ARC.  So one lucky commenter will win the advance reading copy of WHAT YOU SEE! 

The TRUTH about TRUTH BE TOLD!

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I’m sure I didn’t get one bit of sleep last night. It’s pub day for TRUTH BE TOLD—and the reviews are beyond stellar!

**A starred review from Booklist says” In Ryan’s adroit hands, with her brisk prose and appealing protagonists, even foreclosures can be sexy!”

**And a starred review from Library Journal says  “Packs a powerful punch—drop everything and binge-read until the mind–boggling conclusion.”

Whoa. Thank you!

So silly me, when my sister Reds asked if they could interview me on pub day, I said sure, ask me anything! So—they did.  And they made me think about things that were brand new.

Plus—there are important questions for YOU at the end! (With a big giveaway.)

LUCY BURDETTE: Yay, Hank!! It's such a big deal to have a new book out, no matter how many have come before it. Now that it's published, what do you love the most about TRUTH BE TOLD--not counting the moment you wrote "the end"?

HANK:  I have a secret thing I do. Which I will reveal, here in the sanctity of Jungle Red. When I get

The first signing of TBT at BEA

he advance copy of me new book, I open it, to a random paragraph on a random page, and see if it’s good. Then I do it again and again, in a ridiculously perverse experiment to see how long it takes to find something I wish I could change. (We all have our idiosyncrasies.)

In TRUTH BE TOLD I couldn’t find one thing!  I can tell you, and I say this with some level of goosepbumps, I loved every page. 

Can I just say? It’s surprising, and timely, and compelling. The amazing Laura Lippman challenged us, recently, to be truly honest about something that was good about ourselves. Okay, then. This is a really good book. It fascinating because I see now what a journey this is. I adore my other books, each has its own unique and innovative and  original idea. But TRUTH BE TOLD--may I just say it here? Is pretty darn good.

That’s the best part, Lucy, to realize that now after all these years, at age almost 65, I am beginning to get it.  

I am so grateful, and so inspired, and so ridiculously proud of it. If I can just say.

HALLIE EPHRON: I'm curious to know whether you did an investigative report on shady foreclosures, and were inspired by what you discovered?

At Channel 7 news

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Yes, absolutely. And that’s another  thing that’s so wonderful about my dual careers as an investigative reporter (40 years!) and  a newish crime fiction author.

I have done several stories about mortgage fraud, and foreclosure fraud. And here in Massachusetts, three new laws were passed as a result of our Emmy winning series on manipulation and deception  in the banking and mortgage world. We got peoples homes out of  foreclosure! And millions of dollars in refunds and restitution. So, that’s great.

But one day, my photographer and I were shooting video of an eviction. I can confess to you --there’s a lot of that going on here today! --we didn’t know who the owner of the home was that day. We were simply getting pictures of an eviction to illustrate the dire consequences when someone is unlucky, or misled, or has a catastrophe, or a disaster, or makes a mistake. It is devastating.

At one point, a deputy came to the front door of the almost-empty house. I remember he was silhouetted in the door, his entire body the shape of unhappiness and confusion. Head hanging, his outstretched arms one each side of the open door, as if having to hold himself up.

What was making him so upset, I wondered?

I said to my photographer—who is used to my author musings—“What if they found a dead body in there?”

And then I realized what that would mean. The deputies had been in that home clearing it out,  cleaning it up, yanking out the possessions and throwing them away.

What if, I thought, the law enforcement officers themselves had ruined a crime scene? Obliterated the evidence, trampled on everything, wiped the place clean? And then…

Oh. What if the cops ruined their own crime scene!

I was riveted by that idea. And now that is part of the scene that opens TRUTH BE TOLD.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I can't think of many things worse than losing your home. Did you feel a very strong emotional connection to the plight of the foreclosure victims in the story?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Ah, yeah, it’s horrible.  In my TV stories, we discovered a pattern of mortgage fraud in the low-income areas of Boston. A fraud that was resulting in people being manipulated into home improvement deals that were linked to their mortgages--well, long story. But it’s all illegal now.

But as a result of that story, I met a lot of people who had lost their homes, or were about to.

And I went back to my little condo in Brookline, and looked at it so differently. What would I do if someone tried to take it from me? What would I do to keep my home? Or my family’s home?

This year's Emmy awards

And why did banks, I wondered, not work to help people--instead of  slamming the door on their lives?

So when I got to write a fictional story it all, I created a lovely wonderfully compassionate banker as a main character. What do you think happens to her?

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Yesterday, we talked about sex and the single detective. So, since I LOVE the Jane and Jake stuff, how do you feel about writing their relationship? How do you mix the romantic part of the story with the crime and investigation? 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Well, you’re the master of it, dear Julia!

And I don't see it as a separate thing.  Romance… Or lack of it, is such a part of a real person's life, right? Since my characters are real, living breathing longing human beings, each of whom is attractive and single, romance an sex are going to be a part of their being.

It's terrific fun for me to hear how they talk to each other, and how their double-meaninged conversations emerge. Since I don't have an outline, I don't exactly know what is going to happen between them. Jane gets really sexy around Jake, which was such a surprise to me!

And cool hip smart strong Jake gets a little nervous around Jane. And certainly jealous.

DEBS: And what's this about a possible rival to Jake??? Can you tell us a little?

HANK: Exactly! And that was one of the joys of this book. Not only the arrival of…well, you'll see. He's the new guy. And not only how Jane reacted to him, but how Jake felt about him.

  

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: How does your being a journalist affect your definition of "truth"? What effect (if any!) did it have on TRUTH BE TOLD?

#HANKONTOUR At Mystery Lovers Bookshop

HANK: Oh my goodness, Susan, so brilliant. That's what it's all about! My books are all about perception, and each person's version of the truth. It’s why in an objective news story, you tell both sides of it, right? Because each side things what they think is true.

Often there is a "true " but the effects of that truth are also what’s interesting. Being a journalist has made me listen to people more carefully, and my authorial voice has been honing that to a fine point!

And when I thought about what we do as journalists-- that we are the historians of our lives--that became very profound to me. So when it appeared that something nefarious was going on at Jane's newspaper… it gave me a way to illustrate the deep responsibilities journalists have to themselves and to the public.  And to history.

I'm always searching for truth.

RHYS BOWEN: In your real life job, how do you manage to stay emotionally detached when you are covering horrible events and scummy people?

HANK: Oh Rhys , you are so funny! I am not emotionally detached, not in any way. I am trained to be very objective in covering stories, and my brain calculates "who what when where why" almost automatically now. And I am constantly fascinated by it.  I try to stay compassionate, and thoughtful, and open-minded.

I was the one at my station who first announced the breaking news of the Boston Marathon bombing, on live TV, before anyone really knew what was going on. Can you imagine?  I remember my knees being shaky. Inside, I was terrified!

But I thought to myself, very specifically: Just tell the story. You're a storyteller, that's what you do.  

And that's what I did.

HANK (again):  Reds, on this day I am so especially grateful to you. There’s not a moment in the universe like the publication day of a book. I am on the verge of tears and on the verge of laughter every minute.

Please click here for my schedule—I’ll be travelling the county for the next month, and dearly hope to see you at your local bookstore or library! Okay?

Will you share this blog for me? And tweet it? It makes SUCH a big difference. (Every tweet or share is entered for a fabulous prize--wait til you hear!)

And biggest of all--though it’s probably not said aloud in polite company—might I ask you to buy TRUTH BE TOLD?  (And if you love it, tell a friend? Or two?) NO pressure, of course. It’s just my…career….

(And don’t forget to click here:  THE OTHER WOMAN is (briefly) just $2.99 in all platforms.)  

Easy comments today—just say what city you live in! so #HANKONTOUR can come your way. (And I will choose a few lucky commenters for another wonderful prize! )

Thank you, dearest Reds!

Who Is THE OTHER WOMAN? Ask Hank --

JRW: Our own Hank Phillippi Ryan's much anticipated "The Other Woman" launches today and Jungle Red is thrilled to welcome it in style!  

As for Hank, she's seeing stars (starred reviews from Library Journal and Booklist; IndieNext Great Read). So we had to haul her down to earth to talk about this fabulous suspense novel that's being compared to the work of Harlan Coben and Lisa Scottoline, but which in truth is uniquely her own.

On the (gorgeous!) cover of the book it says: You can choose your sin but you cannot choose your consequences... Readers will be repeatedly taken by surprise at where the story leads.
 
So welcome, Hank! (And we'll give away a copy to a lucky commenter!)

Hank, this book it's so different from your Charlie McNally novels which are thrilling, of course, and suspenseful, and funny, like The Other Woman -- but somehow this seems bigger. Were you consciously trying to shift into higher gear?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Well--I didn't really think about it as “higher gear.”  I thought about telling this story--and how it needed be told to make it as suspenseful and full of tension as possible.  The story was so big and so juicy that I realized that it couldn't be told from a single first-person viewpoint, because the reader had to know things that some of the characters didn't know. That meant I had to craft the story in a different way. So the form came from the essence of the story.

JRW: This novel has five viewpoint characters, as many plots and subplots, and, not to spoil anything but a huge number of breathtaking twists, some of them coming right on top of each other. And yet reading feels seamless. How did you keep everything straight?

HANK: That is one of the magical things about writing this book. I had the whole book—every word and every theme-- in my head the whole time. Like those plates on sticks on Ed Sullivan, I had to keep all the plots spinning. And keep each one understandable. When I neared the end of the book I actually made a list of all the loose ends that had to be tied up, and one by one I crossed them off.

And I was constantly surprised. Each time I figured out what happened, I would say  WOW I had no idea! So when readers are surprised at the outcome--well, I was, too..

Practically speaking-- if writers are interested--I made a scene-by-scene chart which included what happened at the end of each scene. So then when I went back I'd know the last thing that POV character knew.  

JRW: This book is so full of surprises for the reader, too! You start the book thinking: "The other woman" -- Oh, I know what that means. This is the "philandering politician" story told from the viewpoint of the mistress. Only it isn't. Well, it is but it isn't, which so cool.

HANK: (Laughing) Thank you! Yes, I was 100% conscious of that! I love being able to play with readers' perceptions. First, remember that I didn't know what was going to happen.

After that, it's sort of all happening on three levels-- I know what I know as an author. I know what the reader expects. And I know if I don't do what the reader expects, that's what reader expects, too. So I have to do something else.  I wanted the reader to go into the book thinking one thing and then—after turning pages as fast as they can-- come out thinking, whoa, that's not what I predicted at all.

JRW: Jane Ryland, your hero, is a reporter who will do anything to protect a source and suffers for it. Have you had times when you had to do something personally risky to protect a source?
HANK: I'm trying to think if there's anything that I can actually tell...

JRW: Is that your final answer?

HANK: Yes.

JRW: Can you tell us where you got your names, especially Jane Ryland and Jake Brogan? Because they sound awfully familiar...

HANK: Oh, this is so hilarious. I needed a name for this character. I knew her name was Jane, that was set from the moment I had the idea for the story. But what was her last name? So I'm on the Acela from Boston to New York, thinking like crazy, very frustrated, and I gave up. I said to myself:  Fine. The next name I see on a building or billboard is going to be the name. Zooming through Connecticut I see billboard that says Ryland Industries.

So I think, perfect. I love it! Jane Elizabeth Ryland. And it never crossed my mind that it was like Ryan. Never never never. Until I read the advance bound manuscript that the publisher sent. And I thought holy moly – Ryland is kind of like Ryan. A year and a half after I started writing the book!

Jake Brogan. I needed his name to be similar to Jane's (you’ll see why when you read the book!) so Jake works perfectly. His name had to be Irish, because his grandfather was a police commissioner in Boston. (Which is why Harvard-educated Jake is a cop. I envisioned them watching Hill Street Blues together!)  I went through all of the Irish-sounding names, and they were too obvious, too predictable, not quite right. Then one day I thought--Brogan!  Detective Jacob Dellacort Brogan. Jake Brogan. Perfect. And it wasn't until later I thought--oh no!  Jan!  

JRW: With your Charlie McNally series, you've said that Charlie is an TV news reporter who worries about what she's going to do when the camera doesn't love her any more. Here you are, six years later, still a glamorous investigative reporter on TV with what certainly looks to all of us like your breakout novel.

HANK: Aw. Thank you. Crossing fingers. Remember what I said about spinning the plates? I love my work as an investigative reporter. I've done it for 35 years and I'm still thrilled every day coming to work. As an investigative reporter you never know what's going to happen and you can work to change the world and get some justice and help the good guys win. 

But as for the novel writing—and remember, I started that at age 55!--there's never been anything that I love as much as that. The walls fall away and I’m in my own world when I’m writing. So what will happen next? As in my books, I just don't know.

JRW: Well, we all feel like we're in the last inning of a no-hitter, holding our breaths, and hoping you shoot the moon.

Here’s the video about The Other Woman— like the book itself, it’s not what you’d expect! And it’s getting a lot of buzz. 

So, gentle Reds, join the conversation! You know Hank will answer any question... well, almost any. And remember--we're giving away a copy to one lucky commenter!