What We're Writing: A Proposal or Two by Jenn McKinlay

 JENN McKINLAY: I just finished a proposal for a new mystery series. It's definitely different for me as it leans heavily into fantasy and horror, so yeah, there's that. I can't say anything more about it because I'm waiting to see what my agent thinks we should do with it. 

Burn it? 

Potentially. LOL.

Otherwise, I'm back in the cozy mystery saddle with A MERRY LITTLE MURDER PLOT, which will be Library Lovers Mystery #15. Not bad for a series I thought would be dead and buried at book six.

The only thing I have so far is the high concept. This is the short paragraphs that I submit to let the publisher know that I do actually have an idea. I'm not sure how this ended up being a Christmas themed cozy. I don't remember submitting any ideas for it until two months ago when I got the nudge to submit a brief description of my upcoming Christmas themed Library Lovers mystery so that the Art Department had something to work with.

Not gonna lie, I said, "Huh? Christmas? Really?" Followed by "Okey-dokey." And this was what I wrote:

Helen Reed, a mysterious newcomer, moves to Briar Creek. She is aloof and does not welcome any friendly overtures even during the many holiday festivities the town residents enjoy. Despite her acerbic personality, Lindsey likes Helen and invites her to join the crafternooners. Helen seems outraged at the very idea. While in conversation, Helen drops a catchphrase used by one of Lindsey’s favorite thriller writers, H.R. Monroe. Lindsey asks if Helen is a fan and Helen, clearly horrified, bolts from the library.

Another newcomer, who was listening to the conversation, informs Lindsey that Helen actually is H.R. Monroe and that she, Jackie Lewis, is Helen’s number one fan. Having dealt with a stalker in the past, Lindsey feels compelled to tell Helen about Jackie. She suspects that Helen is unaware that her “number one” fan is here in town. Helen does not welcome the visit but when Lindsey tells her about Jackie, Helen is obviously petrified. Lindsey offers to call the police but Helen refuses. She ushers Lindsey out the door with no explanation.

The next morning Jackie’s body is discovered in the town park beneath the recently installed holiday light display. She’s been electrocuted. In Jackie’s hand is a copy of Helen’s latest manuscript for a book that isn’t out yet. Helen is now the prime suspect in the murder of her self proclaimed top admirer. Helen asks for Lindsey’s help, and now the librarian and her crafternoon pals must prove the author innocent before "The End" becomes Helen's final sentence. 

This is the first time I've ever electrocuted a victim, so I'm rather excited about that. Yeah, I know, my enthusiasm is concerning. 

I have written a Christmas mystery before. In fact, SUGAR PLUM POISONED comes out in a little over three weeks. Mayhem, murder, and cupcakes...

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It was tremendous fun to write. Who thought murder and the holidays would make such an excellent pairing?

How about it, Reds and Readers, are you a fan of holiday themed murder mysteries? 

Mining the Archives

 LUCY BURDETTE: I got to thinking about how long this wonderful group of writing women has been blogging, how many posts we've written over the years. That's 5261! And you've written 239,029 comments, if you believe Blogger's stats! Wow! First of all, we’ve shown our delight when a new book arrives on bookshelves. We've also had hundreds and hundreds of amazing guests, mostly authors but not always. Plus blog posts on so many topics from the mundane to the utterly serious. We've kept each other going during those horrible pandemic years, and through tragic losses, and everyday doldrums. We've celebrated so many happy occasions and traveled all over the world and eaten amazing food. It's kind of a shame to see the older posts fall into obscurity so I thought I'd ask all the Reds to recap a couple of their favorites. 

I love to write about traveling and share photos–I promise this blog about the Galapagos is better than a relative’s slide show--it's also lessons I learned while traveling. And here's one more, probably the most mind-blowing trip I will ever take--to India.

We've also gotten the men behind the Red women involved in blogging. Here's one about what happened when my hub retired. And this is an oldie but really goodie when we asked our husbands to blog. For some reason Julia's Ross didn't make it into that blog so he got his own...

And one more in which the Reds dish out (rather good) marriage advice…

HALLIE EPHRON: So much fun stuff out there! This was hard. As usual I defer to food…… an homage to canned soups and fruit cocktail.

And because it seems as if I completely lack any ability to remember what’s in my rearview mirror, this one that posted during Covid lockdown… I share it here because somehow it feels better to remember when things were worse, if even microscopically, than they are now. And I can always go for a good kvetch.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: So much fun scanning through the blogs! I love the blogs about food, and writing, and just weird stuff that only we could come up with.

This particular blog, from May 2017, I'm always going back to because I love Hallie's shrimp pancake recipe and I make it every summer when the zucchini is in season!

Here are a couple that jumped out at me from not long after I joined the REDs. This one, because I am in the midst of our very own Texas version of SAD, waiting for August to end. 

And this one, because it was so interesting to see some of our writing influences.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  It's definitely hard to tell if we blog more about writing or more about food.  My very fave is my Christmas morning story, and ‘Twas the Night Before "poem,but I won't post those until the time comes round again.

But here's a midst-of-the-pandemic about dinner disasters. I still feel the same way about spaghetti squash.

Here's our happy fifteenth blog—and this photo was taken in Dallas, the last time we were all together in person before the pandemic hit. So that's unsettling.

Remember Wordle? Ha. Here's Where I tried—and failed—to convince you to play Tradle. Which I tried again TODAY, and still didn't win.

And here's one on food cravings, which I totally stand by.

And the memory of a life-changing experience.

JENN McKINLAY: So many blog posts to choose from! Ack! 

I went with an older one that I thought was poignant at the time. While it still is, I had no idea when I wrote it how much more life was going to throw at us all. It’s entitled MOTHERHOOD IS NOT FOR THE WEAK.

And the second one, is newer and skewed humorous. Now it seems more like a cautionary tale, given the rise of AI and what not. It’s called THE ROBOTS ARE COMING.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: When I joined Jungle Reds, I expected it to be a great way to keep my name in front of the reading public, and to network with other authors. I had no idea it was going to turn into a living journal of my life with my family over a twelve year period (and counting!) I’ve written about teaching your teen to drive, and welcoming them back on midwinter break. I’ve shared my kids’ college tours and tours of duty.  We’ve had graduations from high school and from basic training. And, of course, I’ve shared my dear Ross - in his own words - and shared what it was like to be widowed at 56. 

The ups and downs of a perfectly ordinary life, captured in words and pictures right here. I’m looking forward to the posts about engagements, career successes, weddings and someday (fingers crossed) grandkids… 

Red Readers: Are there particular favorites that you all remember? I'm a huge fan of the 'what we're writing' weeks, but we'd love to hear what kind of posts do you most look forward to?

FINAL CUT by Marjorie McCown

Jenn McKinlay: One thing I love about the writing community is the introductions from author to author. In this case, our friend Ellen Byron introduced me via email to Marjorie McCown, today's guest, and I was delighted when I read her post (I have a thing for hats, you know). But here's our guest to tell us more. Welcome, Marjorie!

Marjorie McCown: Many thanks to Jenn McKinlay and her Jungle Red colleagues for inviting me to be here today! 

     I began writing FINAL CUT, a murder mystery that takes place behind-the-scenes of a big budget Hollywood film in production, during the second year of the pandemic -- four years after I retired from the film industry. My protagonist, Joey Jessop, is a key costumer who finds the body of a murdered coworker on set and winds up having to investigate the crime in order to save herself. 

     I spent 27 years as a costumer and costume designer for movies, so setting my story within the professional community that I was part of for a quarter century gave me a lot of comfort as a fledgling author. But as I got farther into the process of writing the book, I realized there was a deeper meaning for me in the return to that familiar world than knowing the customs and vocabulary of the film industry back to front. 

Marjorie's Desk

     Writing became my comfort zone during those Covid years, an activity that not only occupied my creative mind but also helped soothe some of my social anxiety about being cut off from direct contact with so many of the people I love. And that's why revisiting my film career, at least in the pages of the book I was writing, became an important lifeline for me not only as creative inspiration, but as a way to console the part of me longing for connection. 

     There is a strong sense of community within the costuming profession. It's a job that requires the collaboration of many talented people working together as a team toward a common goal. That interdependence fosters lasting bonds with colleagues, many of whom become lifelong friends. For me, those relationships are the most enduring benefit from my film career. 

     One of my greatest hopes as I worked to make the transition from costuming to writing was to become part of a new creative community, though I didn't really know what to expect. I'd always viewed writing as a largely solitary profession, and of course there are hours spent sitting at the computer with only imaginary characters for company. But despite my debut author status, I've already been the beneficiary of great kindness from authors who have been welcoming and helpful -- again, many thanks to Jenn McKinlay for the opportunity to post on this wonderful blog and to Ellen Byron, who introduced us. 

     I do see significant parallels between the occupations of costuming and writing that hadn't necessarily occurred to me before I had a better view of both disciplines, beyond the obvious that they're both creative endeavors. Both have similar processes -- a lot of research accompanied by an obsessive quest to select the combination of elements that will produce the best work. 

     For a costumer, that might mean looking at 500 men's fedora hats at 6 different costume houses in addition to an exhaustive online search to find the perfectly proportioned hat for a character in one particular scene of the movie. 

     The writerly version of that quest is the continual hunt for the exact word or phrase that sparks the emotion we hope to stir in our reader or reveals the soul of one of our characters or propels our narrative forward. And that's one of the shared bonds throughout the writing and costuming communities, one of the most basic features that makes us all true colleagues. It is that obsession we all share as artists, that endless search for perfection. 

 Question for Readers: Do you believe you have an obsessive streak that fuels your work or any of your other interests or activities? 

Leave a comment and be entered in the random drawing for a signed copy of Final Cut (limited to the U.S.). 

ABOUT THE BOOK: FINAL CUT

Every day on a big-budget Hollywood movie in production is full of surprises, but the last thing key costumer Joey Jessop expected to find on the first day of shooting was the body of a murdered coworker. Because Joey found the body, and the victim was seeing her ex, she’s suspected of being the killer. The story soon blows up in the press and social media -- and Joey finds her well-ordered life in shambles. That's when things really start to go wrong for Joey and the movie as a series of dangerous mishaps interrupt the shoot. As circumstances spiral out of control, at work and at home, Joey is forced to take matters into her own hands to try to salvage her career, and to save her own life.

     Marjorie McCown spent 27 years working as a key member of the costume design teams for a string of successful movies that includes Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, The Firm, A Bronx Tale, Wag the Dog, The Aviator, Hairspray, Angels & Demons, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and X-Men Days of Future Past. Her debut murder mystery, FINAL CUT, is set behind-the-scenes of a blockbuster Hollywood movie in production. Marjorie is a member of Sisters-in-Crime and Mystery Writers of America. She lives in Southern California with her cats Monkey and Max.

What We're Writing: Strawberried Alive by Jenn McKinlay

 Jenn McKinlay: When struggling with a book within a series, I often think about authors who kill off their main characters just so they can stop writing about them.

I won't name names here because...spoilers. But there are a fair few authors who've thrown their characters to the wolves, out the window, or just backed over them with their car, and I get it. 

There are days when the writing is a real struggle and I'm convinced it's time to just blow up the cupcake bakery and call it a day. 

For you, dear readers, I soldier on. That does not mean I don't flirt with the idea of killing off my characters. And here is the evidence, the first chapter of Strawberried Alive, coming in May 2022, you know, if I ever finish the book and don't decide to blow the series sky high in the meantime.

When things don't go well at the cupcake bakery...

     With a sigh, Mel returned to her kitchen and set to work unboxing all of the packed up cupcakes. She carefully removed the white chocolate initials and set them aside on a sheet of parchment paper, then she scraped off the rejected fondant and most of the underlying buttercream. Using a silicone spatula, she flicked the frosting into a large trash can. She was halfway through when the kitchen door swung open and Olivia Puckett, rival baker and current girlfriend to Mels' employee Marty appeared. Olivia surveyed the cupcake covered table and watched Mel scrape another cupcake clean. Then she laughed. It was a full on belly laugh.

     “What happened? Did you mess up an order?”

     Mel eyed the gob of frosting on the end of her spatula and debated flicking it at Olivia. Tempting. It was so tempting. Mel lowered the spatula into the trash can and shook the frosting loose. She felt she should get props for being so mature, especially given that dumping the frosting in the trash can was not nearly as satisfying as watching a glob of frosting splat her baking rival in the face.

      Olivia was still in her chef coat, having just left her bakery Confections. She was undoubtedly here to pick up Marty since they lived together. Mel tried not to feel resentful about everyone else having a fun Friday night while she was stuck here. It was a struggle.

     “No, I didn’t mess up,” Mel said. “The bride changed her primary color from aqua to teal without telling me until a few moments ago. The wedding is tomorrow.”

     Olivia crossed the kitchen to glance at the vast expanse of cupcakes on the table. She let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of boo boos to fix. Was the bride Emerson Henry by any chance?” 

     Mel glanced at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

     “She came to Confections about her wedding,” Olivia said. “Aqua cupcakes with their initials in white chocolate on top, am I right?”

     “You’re right.” Mel gestured to the cupcakes.

     “Yeah, we were already booked out,” Olivia said. “Now I feel like I dodged a bullet.” She patted Mel on the back. Olivia didn’t know her own strength, or maybe she did, as the pat almost sent Mel face forward onto the work table. She caught herself just in time. 

    “You definitely did,” Mel said ruefully. They both studied the table, acknowledging the amount of work that was ahead of Mel.

     “I’d offer to stay and help,” Olivia said. “But I don’t want to.”

     That surprised a laugh out of Mel. The door swung open again and Marty appeared. “We’re all locked up out front, boss. Liv and I are taking off if you’re okay with that?”

     “I’m okay,” Mel said. She must not have sounded convincing because Marty hesitated, so she added, “Seriously, I’m good. Go, get out of here.”

     They didn’t need to be told twice. They crossed through the kitchen and out the backdoor, which closed with a click of the lock behind them. Mel glanced around her kitchen, which she usually considered her sanctuary, and tried not to resent it.

     Mel turned to her trusty Kitchen-Aid mixer to whip up a fresh batch of fondant. She used a gelatin and corn syrup based recipe, so it wasn’t difficult, except that fondant could be persnickety so she had to mind it carefully. When the rolling fondant had reached the right consistency, she put it in the cooler to chill while she prepped a new batch of white chocolate buttercream to spread on the cupcakes.

     Mel had a large screen television mounted on the wall of the kitchen, which she used to watch movies while baking late at night. She flicked through the streaming services until she found a classic Bringing Up Baby. She then picked up her phone and texted her husband Joe, letting him know that she’d be home in a couple of hours. She’d already called to tell him she was working late and he said he and the furry babies eagerly awaited her return. She felt a pang of missing her family. Being married was still very new for her and she still couldn’t believe that she was Mrs. Joe DeLaura.

     As Kate Hepburn sashayed across the screen, Mel began to pipe the fresh buttercream on the raspberry filled cupcakes. She supposed she could have baked the cupcakes all over again, but no. The bride, or princess of the tantrum as Mel thought of her, did not deserve that much labor from her. 

     The movie finished and the next one began while Mel worked. It Happened One Night, a classic, with Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, was halfway through when she finished. Quickly she packed away the cupcakes in the walk in cooler and cleaned up the kitchen. She checked the bakery one more time to make sure everything was clean, switched off, and put away. 

     She retrieved her handbag from the tiny office, formerly a closet, in the corner of the bakery and headed out the door. It was October in south Scottsdale and the heat of the Arizona summer was fading and the nights were blissfully cool. Mel was giddy that she actually had to pause to put on her lightweight hoodie. The Chamber of Commerce weather that was the pride of Arizona was on its way.

     She zipped up her sweatshirt and ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. She set the alarm on the keypad inside the door and had just closed and locked it, when she heard footsteps in the alley behind her. Mel froze. 

     She glanced up at the apartment above the bakery where Oz lived. The lights were off. Maybe it was him, coming home. He was a young man in his twenties. It wasn’t out of character for him to be out this late. Then again, he was a chef and had to be up when the rooster crowed to bake his signature desserts for the Sun Dial Resort where he now worked, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to be out this late. Oz took his job very seriously. 

     Mel turned away from the keypad and glanced into the dark alley behind her. She tried to make her voice strong when she called out, “Oz? Is that you?”

     In the shadow of the dumpster fifty yards away, she saw a figure dressed all in black. She felt her heart skip a beat or three. Every instinct screamed at her to get out of there. She tried the handle on the door but she’d locked it. She fumbled for her keys not caring if she set off the alarm because then at least the police would be notified.

     “Oz, if you’re playing a prank, it’s not funny,” she cried. Please let it be Oz, please, please, please. 

    There was a sudden boom and the brick beside her arm exploded. The person had shot at her! Mel let out shriek and ducked down behind the railing, as if the skinny wrought iron could protect her from a bullet. From her crouched position, she tried to get the key in the lock but her fingers were shaking too hard.

     Over the frantic pounding of her heart, she heard the footsteps coming closer. She tried to cram the key into the lock but it was upside down. She dropped the keys. The light over the back door illuminated the area, making it easy for the shooter to see her, but it also helped her spot her keys. She snatched them up and tried the lock again. 

     Another bullet whizzed through the air and slammed into the metal door above her head, ripping a hole through it. Mel jerked back and curled up into a ball as if she could repel a bullet if she scrunched up tight enough. 

     The footsteps kept coming and Mel realized this was it. Here on her back stoop with traces of teal food coloring under her fingernails and the smell of buttercream wafting off her skin like perfume, she was about to die. 

Will she die? Won't she? I'm not telling. 

How about it, Readers? How do you feel when an author blows up their series by killing off a beloved character? And, Reds, have you ever killed off a character just to be done with them?