RHYS CELEBRATES LAUNCH DAY!

JENN MCKINLAY: One of my very first “I’m an author now” memories is walking into the Poisoned Pen for one of my first signings and having PK (the unflappable Patrick King) tell me that Rhys Bowen was visiting and was going to moderate the book talk. Rhys Bowen! I was so undone, I almost turned around and ran home. I’m very glad I didn’t. Rhys was, well, Rhys. She was charming and lovely, funny and gracious. And now I’m celebrating the release of her latest fabulous A Royal Spyness mystery On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service. Congratulations, Rhys!

I am a lover of series – the longer running the better! Since Rhys has managed to weave her Lady Georgie magic for eleven books, I have to ask, how do you do it, Rhys? How do you keep your series fresh and how long do you think the series will go? (Please say forever).

RHYS BOWEN: Dear Jenn. Thank you for hosting me today. And I'm so glad I spend part of the year in Phoenix and we get to see each other. I'm sure we know each other's spiel by heart now!  How do I keep a series fresh? Well, I guess I have to enjoy visiting those characters. This series has been pure joy to me from the first words I wrote for Her Royal Spyness back in 2007. I still sit and chuckle as I write and call out to John , "Hey, listen to what Fig just said!"  I figure if they can make me chuckle then my readers will do the same. So I have no plan to quit any time soon (in fact I'm just signing new contract)

LUCY BURDETTE: Rhys, I really loved visiting Ireland with Georgie and Darcy in CROWNED AND DANGEROUS.  And now I see that we will have the pleasure of visiting Italy this time out in ON HER MAJESTY'S FRIGHTFULLY SECRET SERVICE. My question is do you plan the books around places that you happen to visit, or do you go  visit the places that will be in the books? (I know you do some research by accident, as I will always remember your story about stumbling into a funeral unexpectedly and thinking that this would be exactly the kind of thing that Georgie would do!)

RHYS: Some of the books have been planned around a place. I definitely wanted to write Naughty in Nice and went there to do research. But this one was purely serendipitous. When I start a new book I look at the real events that happened around the time I'm setting my story. And I saw that in spring 1935 there was a big international conference in Stresa, Italy. Britain, France and Italy met to discuss how to combat the Nazi threat. And I thought, "this is interesting because Mussolini was a huge fan of Hitler." And then I thought "I bet there were other negotiations going on behind the scenes." And I'd always wanted to make Georgie do some real spying to live up to her name.

And the next step of serendipity was that I was asked to teach a writing workshop in Tuscany. (I'm repeating it next year for anyone interested!) So I'd already be in Italy. So I headed north to Stresa and spent a wonderful time doing my research there--research which involved going to lots of villas and gardens, steamers up the lake, and of course wine!

INGRID THOFT: I know it’s like choosing your favorite child, but do you have a favorite character in this particular book or the series in general?  Has this always been the case or has your affection for that character grown over time?  What about a character you don’t like?  Do your readers' feelings on this subject align with your own?

RHYS: I'm very fond of Ceorgie's old Cockney grandfather, mainly because I based him on my father, who came from very humble beginnings to become a research engineer. He was a lovely, gentle man like Georgie's grandfather. And I love writing characters I don't like--Fig, Mrs. Simpson. I make them as bitchy as I dare. In Mrs. Simpson's case I try to use things she actually said.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I know you'll tell us more about this story (and cannot wait to read it!) --but I am constantly delighted by your enthusiasm and your innovation. You are constantly raising the bar on yourself..and succeeding, again and again. You're endlessly goodnatured and flexible. How did you get this life philosophy? And I wonder if Georgie could come to Boston--so you could research here!

RHYS: Darling Hank: you don't see me when I have a deadline looming and the bath backs up! But I'm lucky enough to live in two beautiful places, to travel, to have great friends and wonderful family, also to be able to write what I want to. So I should be content and enjoy life. I have certainly come through many stressful periods in life (husband laid off and 3 kids in college!)  Also a stressful spring this year with John's health looking bleak. So now I savor the good times

HALLIE EPHRON: Rhys, in this new book Georgie does some more spying, so I'm wondering what kind of research you did and whether there was a historical figure whose experiences you may have used?

RHYS: Hallie, as with everything Georgie does the spying is almost a disaster and puts her in danger! I did read a lot about MI5 when I was writing In Farleigh Field so I know about how real spies operated at that time.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Rhys, I cannot wait to read Georgie's latest adventure!!! I'd love to know about Georgie's genesis. What first gave you the idea for the character and the series? Did you just hear Georgie's voice in your head?

RHYS: Hi Debs! Georgie started  out as a challenge. My then publisher said they couldn't really break me out until I wrote a big, dark stand-alone. I thought about it and couldn't see myself with serial killers, child molesters. So I asked myself what was the most improbable heroine I could think of. How about if she was royal? And penniless? I started writing in Georgie's voice and she was right there, immediately, talking to me. She dictated, I wrote. I still find it easy to be in her head.

In this new book Georgie is planning to go to Italy to be with her friend Belinda who is having a baby and alone. When Queen Mary hears this she gives Georgie another assignment and sends her to a posh house party. But once there it is clear that darker things are happening and Georgie finds herself in the middle of them.  I can SAY NO MORE or I'd have to kill you!

So thank you everyone for joining me today for the launch of ON HER MAJESTY'S FRIGHTFULLY SECRET SERVICE. I start with a launch party tonight at Book Passage in Corte Madera, CA. If you're anywhere near I have baby cheesecakes from the best cheesecake shop in the world. And champagne.
Then I'm hitting the road for Houston, Ann Arbor, Scottsdale, Orange County and Pasadena before I return to the Bay Area for more events. It's all on my website, www.rhysbowen.com

What We're writing--Rhys on Dialog (or is it dialogue?)

RHYS BOWEN: At the moment you are reading this I'll be heading to the airport on my way to the Bouchercon mystery convention where I'm looking forward to seeing fellow Reds Hank, Debs and Susan. I'm on a panel on Saturday with Hank and Deborah--it's about our tales from the road: mishaps, misadventures and outright fun during our book tours and speeches. I hope there are going to be some stunning reveals. I know I have plenty of good stories. I may share some with you when it's my next turn to host JRW.

But in the meantime I'm juggling two books: I have finished the first draft of the next Georgie Book, called ON HER MAJESTY'S FRIGHTFULLY SECRET SERVICE, I've started on the final polish, and I'm just starting to write the next Molly book, called THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST. This is a much more somber affair so I'm having to juggle the two a little and switch moods between jolly and depressing!

I've been reading a lot of books lately and one thing that strikes me about beginning writers is that they don't know how to handle dialog.(or is it dialogue? I spend my time writing half in British English and half in American English, hence perpetually confused!)

 When people start to talk we have one line of speech after another, like staccato bullets. In real life people don't speak like that. They speak in broken sentences, they gesture, their body language matches their mood, outside things happen like planes flying over, dogs rushing in. AND we need to be reminded where we are. If the dialog scene takes place on a train station we need to hear an announcement or toot of a train whistle to remind us.

I've been told that my dialog is one of the things readers enjoy most about my books, so I thought I'd share a scene in which we have action, dialog, character and setting all playing a part: This is from the Georgie book I am working on. We are in Stresa, Italy, on Lake Maggiori:

            As I approached the villa I spotted a group of people, sitting on a terrace beneath an arbor of wisteria. I felt suddenly shy and awkward. Why had I not asked the driver to take me to the villa? I must look pathetic, staggering up the drive carrying my own suitcase and dressed in my unfashionable tweed suit. And what if the letter still hadn’t arrived and here I was with my suitcase?  Had the queen actually suggested that I join the house party, or merely that I should be welcomed for a drink if I showed up? Why on earth hadn’t I left the suitcase at Belinda’s house and pretended I had just dropped by to pay my respects? Then, when they suggested I should stay I could have acted as if I was surprised and they would have sent someone to pick up my belongings. But now I was committed. I couldn’t retreat without being noticed. It was only a matter of time before one of them looked up and…

            I was startled by a great scream. “Georgie!”

            I was even more startled to see that the scream came from my mother. She had risen to her feet and was running toward me, her arms open. “Georgie, my darling!” she exclaimed in that voice that had filled London theaters. “What a lovely, lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming to join us. Why didn’t somebody tell me?”

            She flung her arms around me , something she was not in the habit of doing. Then she turned back to the others. “Which of you arranged to bring my daughter to me? Was it you, Max, who suggested it? You knew I was pining for her, didn’t you?”

            I had prudently put down the suitcase before she attacked me. Now she took my hand and dragged me forward. “Everybody, this is my darling child, Georgie, whom I haven’t seen for ages and ages. And I had no idea she was coming to join us. ” She gazed at me adoringly. “And now you’re here. It seems like a miracle.”

            I noticed she had failed to mention that she had bumped into a few days ago and at that time there had been no talk of inviting me to join her. Nor had she seemed overjoyed to see me. As I smiled back at her I wondered what she was up to.

            Several other members of the party had also risen to their feet as she led me up steps to the arbor. Among them I recognized Miss Cami-Knickers herself. She looked older, perfectly groomed, incredibly chic as she stepped down from the terrace and approached me.

            “Georgiana. How delightful to see you again after all this time. I was so pleased to receive a note from the queen herself suggesting that you join our party.”

            I shook the hand that was offered. “I do hope this has not inconvenienced you in any way, Camilla,” I said. “When I told her majesty that I’d be staying nearby I really had no idea she’d invite me to be part of your house party. But she was insistent that I pay my respects to my cousin, the Prince of Wales.”

            “But not at all,” Camilla laughed. I remembered she had always had a horsy sort of laugh. Her horsy looks had definitely been improved with impeccable grooming and expensive clothes but the laugh was unchanged. “Actually we’re horribly short on women at the party, so you are a godsend at evening up the numbers.  Come and meet my husband and the other guests.”

            I followed her up to the terrace where several men were now standing to greet me. One of them I recognized immediately as Paolo, Belinda’s former love. I saw from his face that he also remembered me but I also saw the warning sign flash in his eyes. “Pretend you don’t know me,” could not have been more clear if he had shouted the words.

            “My husband Paolo, Count of Marola and Martini,” she said proudly.

            “My dear Lady Georgiana, you are most welcome, especially since my wife tells me you and she were old friends from your school days.” He took my hand and kissed it.

            “How do you do, Count,” I said, inclining my head formally.  “But please let us dispense with formality. Why don’t you call me Georgie?”

            ‘Georgie. How charming.” He smiled. I had forgotten how incredibly handsome he was. I could see why Belinda had been quite smitten at the time.

            Camilla took my arm and moved me on. “And of course you already know Herr von Strohheim?”

            My mother’s beau Max clicked his heels and said, “Georgie. I am pleased to see you again,” in his stilted, staccato English. At least it was better than when he first met my mother and spoke only occasional monosyllables.

“Max, how are you?” I said, shaking his hand. He too looked handsome in a blonde and Germanic way and I was reminded of my encounter on the train with….

            “And this is Count Rudolf von Rosskopf,” Camilla said, and I found myself face to face with my would-be seducer.

            He too took my hand and drew it to his lips. “We meet again, Lady Georgiana,” he said. “What a delightful surprise. And I had no idea that we would run into each other again so soon. It must be fate, drawing us together.” He looked rather pleased with himself and his eyes flirted with me.

            “Behave yourself, Rudi,” my mother snapped. “This is my young daughter, you know.”

            “Not too young,” Rudi said. “Ripe and ready for adventure, I think.”

RHYS: I rather fear that seduction will be the least of Georgie's worries as the story progresses!

So do share: what do you look for in good dialog?

What we're writing: Rhys reveals.

!RHYS BOWEN: Since the other Reds have opted out of confessing what they are actually writing this week, I'll remedy that. I've been writing hard to get a first draft done of next year's Royal Spyness book. Working title (which I think they like so it will stick) is ON HER MAJESTY'S FRIGHTFULLY SECRET SERVICE.

It's the first book that involves Georgie in real espionage. And it takes place in Stresa, Italy, whence I have just returned from rigorous research. Yes, we writers suffer for our craft! So much of the plot takes place in the grounds of a villa, so it was imperative that I saw the layout of various villas around the lake, took the ferries up and down the lake, and of course had coffee in the little central square.

I picked Stresa because an important conference was held there in 1935. Statesmen from UK, Italy and France met to discuss how to combat the growing Nazi threat. That was too good not to put into a book. I can't tell you much about the book without giving away the plot, but here is the scene when she arrives at the Villa Fiori for a house party that turns out to be anything but innocent:

            It was time to become the queen’s spy. I caught the ferry back to Stresa, much to Belinda’s disappointment, packed what I hoped was suitable clothing into my suitcase (or at least the best I had) and set off for the Villa Fiori. I had waited until after luncheon because I was sure it was not good form to arrive too early.  It was a warm day and I felt hot and sweaty by the time I had carried that suitcase down the hill and along the lake shore. Outside the gates I paused, trying to smooth down my hair that had been wind-swept, catching my breath and taking in the scene before me.  Beyond the gates the land rose steadily. The driveway was lined with palm trees and ended in a forecourt in which a fountain was playing. The villa itself was what one expects an Italian palace to look like—pale lemon yellow with white shutters on either side of arched windows. There were statues decorating the roof and at the front was a flight of steps leading up to a marble balustrade. All very grand! I swallowed hard and took a deep breath before I dared to push open those gates.

Gardeners were still working as I walked up the drive, trying to look as if my suitcase was lighter than it really felt. One of the gardeners had removed his shirt and was bending to plant a border around a fountain. When he stood up again I couldn’t help noticing that his physique was… well, admirable. I couldn’t see his face because he was wearing a broad brimmed hat, but I sensed him watching me as I continued up the drive. Again I allowed myself a smirk. So Italian men found me attractive. Then I reprimanded myself. I was about to become a married woman. Surely I shouldn’t be noticing the chest muscles of gardeners?

            As I approached the villa I spotted a group of people, sitting on a terrace beneath an arbor of  wisteria. I felt suddenly shy and awkward. I must look pathetic, staggering up the drive carrying my own suitcase and dressed in my unfashionable tweed suit. And what if the letter still hadn’t arrived and here I was with my suitcase?  Had the queen actually suggested that I join the house party, or merely that I should be welcomed for a drink if I showed up? Why on earth hadn’t I left the suitcase at Belinda’s house and pretended I had just dropped by to pay my respects? Then, when they suggested I should stay I could have acted surprised and they would have sent someone to pick up my belongings. But now I was committed. I couldn’t retreat without being noticed. It was only a matter of time before one of them looked up and…

            I was startled by a great scream. “Georgie!”

            I was even more startled to see that the scream came from my mother. She had risen to her feet and was running toward me, her arms open. “Georgie, my darling!” she exclaimed in that voice that had filled London theaters. “What a lovely, lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming to join us. Why didn’t somebody tell me?”

            She flung her arms around me , something she was not in the habit of doing. Then she turned back to the others. “Which of you arranged to bring my daughter to me? Was it you, Max, who suggested it? You knew I was pining for her, didn’t you?”

            I had prudently put down the suitcase before she attacked me. Now she took my hand and dragged me forward. “Everybody, this is my darling child, Georgie, whom I haven’t seen for ages and ages. And I had no idea she was coming to join us. ” She gazed at me adoringly. “And now you’re here. It seems like a miracle.”

            I noticed she had failed to mention that she had bumped into a few days ago and at that time there had been no talk of inviting me to join her. Nor had she seemed overjoyed to see me. As I smiled back at her I wondered what she was up to.

And you'll never guess who the other guests at the house party are...So a question to you other writers out there. Do you have a place in mind when a story comes to you, or do you have the plot idea and then look for a place that is perfect? In this case the place was important because Lake Maggiore is half in Switzerland and half in Italy and that is crucial to the story. And the lake is ringed with lovely villas just like Villa Fiori.

And to the readers: do you prefer reading about exotic settings or are you more comfortable with something closer to home?.

Rhys on Research

RHYS BOWEN: Last week Karen gave you her report on our workshop in Tuscany. At the end of the ten days we went our separate ways and I headed north to Lake Maggiore to do research for my next Royal Spyness book.  I thought you might be interested to see what such research entails. When I’ve told people that I was heading to Nice or to Italy to do research, I see them grinning and thinking, “Right. Research. I don’t think.”

                Actually I do work quite hard, albeit in lovely surroundings. When I was writing Naughty in Nice I spent several days in the main library looking through old postcards and maps. After all streets and their names are always being changed in France. Princess Grace Boulevard would not have existed at the time I write about. I spent a fabulous morning at the hotel Negresco, wandering hallways and peering around corners, with the blessing of the management who suddenly decided I should be given free rein when I produced a card that said I was a bestselling author. I took lots of pictures and wandered streets (and ate and drank local food and wine, of course. All part of the research of bringing a place to life!)

.

                This time in Stresa I was most interested in finding a villa and gardens that matched the setting I wanted for Lady Georgie’s stay. I was fascinated by some of the villas that must once have been grand and have now been allowed to fall into ruins. (Tempted to buy one and restore it!) But I did see one lovely villa that would fit the bill and then there were gardens at Villa Tarranto and on the Isola Bella, both of which are incorporated into my Villa Gloriosa.

Also I was interested in the details of the conference that took place in Stresa in 1935 between Italy, France and England, deciding what to do about the Nazi threat. Where was it held? Who was there? I always like to bring real history into my stories and this conference was a gift—right time, right place. Then there was the train and steamer up to the Swiss part of the lake, as that also has to be part of my story. Where might there have been a famous clinic in 1935? And of course the Grand Hotel where Ernest Hemmingway stayed when he wrote “A Farewell to Arms”. Surely there was a way to bring that into the story!

                Above all I try to get the feel of a place: when I sit in the little square and drink coffee what do I see, hear, smell? It is deliciously cool in the shade of the sycamore trees. Sound echoes from the surrounding alleyways. Italians in conversation always sound as if they are about to break into a fight. And then there is the weather: morning clouds draped over the mountains. Wisps of cloud attached to the peaks like strands of sheep’s wool caught on a fence. The far side of the lake swallowed into blackness during a storm. Weather is always important in a story so I take pictures and make notes of every weather change.

                When I write a book my aim is to take my readers there, not tell them about it. If I’ve experienced it then hopefully they will took.  Watch out for the book next year. It’s called “On Her Majesty’s Frightfully Secret Service.”