Tammy Kaehler: What Dolly Parton Taught Me About Being A Feminist

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Happy Friday, everyone! Today I'm thrilled to introduce novelist Tammy Kaehler, the author of the Kate Reilly Racing Mystery Series. I was lucky enough to meet Tammy in person at the Literary Guild of Orange County at Long Beach's Festival of Women authors last year, and we've been buddies every since.

I love Tammy's series, because her protagonist, Kate Reilly, is such a strong and brave heroine — and also because I know absolutely nothing about the world of car racing. It's such a fun glimpse into this specialized world.

Welcome, Tammy!

Tammy Kaehler: Let me start by saying that Dolly Parton was a fixture in my childhood, in that sort of “odd celebrity who’s always there” kind of way—not to mention as the woman with the biggest chest and the most fringe and rhinestones. I was a child of the 80s, so I watched the movie 9 to 5 over and over, knew all the words to Islands in the Stream, and knew her song “I Will Always Love You” long before Whitney Houston recorded it. I just didn’t know how much common sense lurked behind all of that big hair.

From a combination of factors, not the least of which was being raised (mostly) by a single mother who attended UC Berkeley in the 1960s, I grew up believing women should reach for anything they want and not be satisfied with the constraints of traditional female occupations. I attended a liberal arts college, and that’s when I became more aware of language use and gender roles, and all the stuff that “political correctness” (which I think is unfairly maligned) teaches you to recognize.

That’s when I excised the word “girl” from my vocabulary for any female over the age of 16. I learned to say “first-year student” instead of “freshman.” And I developed my habit of always carrying a whistle and never walking alone at night. (Yes, the awakening was the good with the bad.) By then, to me, feminism meant no stereotyping, eschewing historical societal expectations, and doing everything men could. I’d never been a particularly girly girl, and at that point in my life, you wouldn’t have caught me dead in ruffles, bows, pink, or hearts. Somehow, those were marks against feminism or symbols of a need to be protected that would then diminish my strength or power.

Ironically, it was when I went to work for a women’s college that I became more flexible in my idea of what women could be. As I think back, that’s when I started to realize—as I looked around every day at hundreds of women leading or following, excelling or goofing off, and generally filling every role, traditional or otherwise—that just being a woman and doing what I wanted to do was a form of feminism. It’s a sentiment that took a while to gel, and one that I finally articulated in Red Flags when Kate, the racecar driver, is questioned by the media about not doing enough as a role model: “I make a case for women every day I’m behind the wheel,” she says.

A large part of my interest in the racing world stems from meeting women in it who aren’t the beauty-queen trophy girls. The women who don’t trade on their looks for exposure or success. And then someone like Danica Patrick comes along. Whether or not you think she belongs in NASCAR’s highest tier or in Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue, she’s in both (or has been). She’s talked about the technical craft of racing, she’s led and won races, and she’s used her sexuality to promote her brand. For a long time I was really conflicted about my opinions of her actions.

And then I started writing Red Flags, creating a character who’s your typical Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, but with a twist: there’s a smart, strategic brain behind the glitz, glam, and pocket dogs. I came to understand that the best thing we as women can do today is be who the hell we want and own it. And who’s the patron saint of that? Dolly Parton.

Because, let me tell you, the woman is no dummy. The first quote of hers I heard and loved was about being called a “dumb blonde.” Her answer: “I’m not offended at all by dumb blonde jokes because I know I’m not dumb, and I also know I’m not blonde.” Another that stuck with me—talk about owning it—is one I let my character quote: “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap.” You be you, Dolly.

So while there’s still a part of me that’s still conflicted, I’ve embraced hearts, polka dots, full skirts, and pink. Even pink on a racecar, if it’s driven by a woman and is supporting the fight against breast cancer. (That, by the way, is true of Kate Reilly in my books and Pippa Mann in real life.)

And I’m going to embrace being who I am, on purpose. With kudos to Dolly.

What I want to know is am I the only one with this kind of confusion about what feminism means? Worried, like me, that you’re not doing it right? And be honest, who else out there is a secret Dolly fan?

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Love, love, love Dolly. But it wasn't until the film The Bodyguard and the Whiney Houson version of "I Will Always Love You" that I realized she was also a songwriter and producer. Talk about your triple threat!

Confusion about being a feminist? Reds and lovely readers, what do you think? Do you ever feel like you're "not doing it right"? What about this "lean in" stuff? (And why so much judgment, both from others and our own inner critics?) Please tell us (and meet Tammy) in the comments. 

(And now I can't get "I Will Always Love You" out of my head. THANKS, TAMMY!)

Tammy Kaehler discovered the racing world via a stint in corporate marketing, and she was hooked by the contrast between its top-dollar, high-drama competition and friendly, family atmosphere. Mystery fans and racing insiders alike have praised her award-winning Kate Reilly Racing Mystery Series (Dead Man’s Switch, Braking Points, and Avoidable Contact), and Tammy takes readers back behind the wheel in her fourth entry, Red Flags. She works as a freelance writer in the Los Angeles area, where she lives with her husband and many cars. www.tammykaehler.com

The Question We All Must Face

"You don't really need to work..."

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  May I introduce to you: Leon. Leon has never been on Jungle Red before. When I was living in Atlanta, a million years ago, I found Leon while I was out running. (On Ponce de Leon Avenue.) He was being tormented by some stupid kids, and I stopped and said--hey! Is that your kitten?

They said no.

I said--well, I'm taking him. I whisked him off to my apartment, where my tortoiseshell cat Lola immediately became furious, ran into the bedroom, and skooshed her body into an empty shoe box. 

I told Leon I could not possibly have two cats, and he was going to the humane society,but he didn’t listen. He did everything but sing and dance until I agree to let him stay.

Lola and Leon lived together for 14 years, and never said a word to each other. This was one of Leon’s favorite places. (You can see by the computer how long ago it was.)

generic pets but you get the picture

Can pets co-exist? What if they are different species? And what is your answer to –as Edgar nominee Steve Ulfelder puts it—The Question We All Must Face?

 What’s Reigning: Cats or Dogs?

            By Steve Ulfelder

You don’t need me to tell you house pets have an honored place in crime fiction. Cats and dogs are so beloved and talented that these days, they’re as likely to narrate the stories and solve the crimes as they are to cough up a hairball or have an accident on the rug. Laura Lippman, Robert B. Parker, Clea Simon, Spencer Quinn, and of course Lillian Jackson Braun are just some of the authors who’ve used quadrupeds to good effect.

In my series, though, I find myself at a risky crossroads: Conway Sax, my tough-guy hero (a former NASCAR racer who solves cases for his fellow recovering alcoholics), appears to be transitioning from a cat guy to a dog guy.

Why? Well, let’s not beat around the bush: because I find myself making the same transition.

When I began writing Conway in 2007, I had three cats (I’m down to one due to old age and a coyote, sad to say). I loved them all dearly; until very recently, had you asked me the Question We All Must Face (Are you a cat person or a dog person? No equivocating!), I would confidently have said cats. So it made sense to soften up and humanize Conway, who can be pretty brutal, with a pair of black-and-white housecats named Dale and Davey (as in Earnhardt Sr. and Allison—Conway names his pets after race drivers).

This worked just fine, with Dale and Davey becoming beloved characters. But then I hauled off and adopted Bonneville (usually known as Bonnie), a retired racing greyhound.

Uh-oh.

I have flipped for this dog, and for greyhounds in general. Here’s a piece I wrote about Bonnie for Crimespree Magazine: http://crimespreemag.com/pet-spotlight-bonnies-scars-by-steve-ulflder/. Here is her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/bonnie.ulfelder?fref=ts&ref=br_tf. Here’s her Twitter account: https://twitter.com/CatysGaleForce.

Have I gone overboard? Yup.

Is it just a matter of time before I adopt another grey? Yup.

With this backdrop, you’ll be unsurprised to hear that while Conway retains his cats, greyhounds poke their pointy snouts into book four in the series, Wolverine Bros. Freight & Storage. A pair of greys named Dandy and Cha Cha make their goofy debut in this story, and while they belong to another character, there are hints that Conway will become their eventual caretaker.

What do you think, Reds and readers: Can a pair of retired greyhounds coexist with a pair of housecats in the same series, or am I setting myself up for disaster? At the very least, must I find Conway a love interest who owns a kennel?

Also, who are some of your favorite four-legged characters in mysteries?

HANK: Great question! And I cannot wait to hear your answers.

(And of course--a copy of WOLVERINE BROTHERS to one lucky commenter!)

And the winner of Katherine Hall Page's SMALL PLATES is  Brenda Buchanan! Email me your address...

TOMORROW ON JUNGLE RED: Ghosts.

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

Steve Ulfelder is the Edgar finalist author of four mysteries featuring big-hearted former NASCAR driver Conway Sax. Steve also co-owns Flatout Motorsports Inc., a Massachusetts company that builds race cars, and is an avid race driver himself. Visit him at www.ulfelder.com.

In WOLVERINE BROS. FREIGHT & STORAGE, Conway Sax is a man on a mission—this time in Los Angeles, where he uses his race-driving experience in a desperate bid to rescue Kenny Spoon, a washed-up TV star who’s been kidnapped. It’s a favor for Kenny’s mother Eudora, Conway’s dear friend and a fellow member of his tight-knit AA group.

When he returns to Massachusetts, Conway finds himself caught between Eudora and her two sons: Kenny, and Harmon, a cop who resents his talented, troubled half-brother. Each member of the Spoon family distrusts the others, it seems … and each has a past full of dark secrets that may explain why.

While Conway tries to learn why Kenny was kidnapped and protect him from further harm, a shocking murder devastates this complex, all-too-human family. Conway vows to find the killer and avenge the death, but each clue only points to more suspects.

On race car crashes and drama

JAN BROGAN: Although I never watch car racing, my husband and I happened to be flipping between stations at exactly the moment that the Indy race cars crashed on the Nascar track in Las Vegas last week.

Drawn into the drama, we kept flipping back from the Patriots game to the race track to find out what was going on. We were stunned, and even shaken, when it was announced that veteran driver Dan Wheldon had died.

As the cars took their laps around the racetrack, a solemn memorial, and the camera panned to the spectators, standing, head bowed, with many of the women crying, I had an ungenerous thought. Wasn't this why people watched car racing - because a crash was always possible? Wasn't it a little like going to the Coliseum, but crying when someone got fed to the lions?

And now, as they talk about making IndyCar racing safer by not racing on small oval tracks, I wonder could they ever really make it completely risk free? And if they could, what would that do to car racing?

And here at Jungle Red, we all use murder or the threat of death to fuel our mysteries and thrillers. So my question this week Reds, is --how high do the stakes have to be for there to be excitement?

And if it weren't for death, would we even have drama?

RHYS BOWEN: Jan, you are so right that people go to car racing hoping for the spectacular crash.

It's interesting to me that the mystery novel has come to mean the Murder mystery novel. What seems to have happened in recent mysteries is that the stakes have been raised for the protagonist. He/she is now involved/facing old demons/personally stalked or hunted by the villain. I think today's reader wants the thrill of danger--look how many movies have car chases, and exploding buildings--and the cerebral puzzle is no longer enough. After all, kids are growing up playing all those violent video games in which they experience a constant adrenalin rush.

JAN: I know, it's kind of sad. It's like we've all got such attention deficit disorder that we need the ultimate stakes to be involved to keep our attention.

LUCY BURDETTE: I guess in the old-fashioned puzzle whodunit the personal stakes for the sleuths were not so high. But these days, especially for amateur sleuth mysteries, the character has to have a damn good reason for meddling in what is truly professional business. I think about that issue all the time: Why in the world is a food critic (or psychologist or golfer) getting involved in solving this crime? I think readers may hold us to a higher standard as more good books get written and published.

I had such an interesting conversation with my editor a couple of weeks ago about the current popularity of cozy or lighter mysteries. I wondered if this had to do with the disheveled state of the world--that people are looking for better news, less heavy reading. She wondered if romance readers might be crossing over to the cozies because romance has become more and more eroticized. Talk about higher stakes for writers!

HALLIE EPHRON: How high do the stakes have to be? Good question, Jan. I think the drama is greatest when the stakes for the sleuth are personal. Even in lighter mysteries--or especially in lighter mystery novels. If readers just care about explosions and murders, they can read the newspaper.

ROSEMARY HARRIS: When I worked for ABC (and somewhat for ESPN) we released a video series with CART, one of the major racing organizations, and the hypocrisy surrounding the reasons people watched this so-called sport was mind-boggling. My particular interest was in what we should put on the cover and what words we were allowed to use in marketing what were essentially videos of the most spectacular crashes. One of my least favorite video assignments ....and they sometimes including working with wrestlers, porn stars and anorexic fitness divas.

I think some of my favorite recent mysteries have just one murder. What the Dead Know comes to mind...wasn't there just one in that book? I reject the notion of so many writers these days that a book isn't a "real" mystery unless multiple co-eds are murdered in brutal fashion. And these guys think they're being interesting by having intricate mutilations or the exchange of body parts. Sorry, I think that's boring. Maybe that's another reason traditionqal mysteries are doing well (relatively speaking.)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: "Excitement" is what stuck me, Jan. Is that what readers are looking for? I think--motive. Motive. If someone does something for a reason that readers understand-tht make's the terrible thing seem realistic..and therefore, exciting.

Let me say-I'm an Indy girl, so I've gone to the 500 several times. The last, I was sitting next to a friend's 10 year old son. There was HUGE and horrible crash. I thought--oh, I can't let him see this! I grabbed him, to hide his face. He about punched me in the nose to escape-he was so eager to see the wreck.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: What an interesting question, Jan. I don't watch car racing, and in my naivete I have to admit I'm shocked by the idea that people watch them primarily for the crashes . . . But horse racing is dangerous, too, and I love it, although I'm absolutely horrified when there's an accident on the track. And no matter what they do to make either of these sports (or many others) safer, there is still always the possibility of tragedy. But life isn't SAFE. It's not meant to be safe. And I suppose that brings us to mysteries and their enduring popularity. I think we like being reminded that life is precarious. But we also like the sense of resolution and sometimes justice that we find in mysteries--seldom is real life so neat.

Are our for violence as consumers getting higher? We think so, yet that would be an interesting question to pose to an historian. Hangings at Tyburn, anyone?

JAN: Debs, I think you hit the nail on the head. We like to be reminded that life is precarious. I think that's what gives it meaning.

What do you think about life, death, drama and meaning? How high do the stakes have to be to keep your interest?