Rhys gets ready...

 RHYS BOWEN: Well, I actually am writing something new. Clare and I have started our new Molly book. This one is set in the fledgling movie industry in New York (and the rival Edison studio across the river in New Jersey) but today my thoughts are focused on the upcoming release of THE PARIS ASSIGNMENT. 

Most of my writing at this very moment is blog posts, interviews for the new book. I'm excited to share it with the world as I think it is a special story, with plenty of danger, heartbreak and an ultimately satisfying ending. I decided to share a snippet with you today:

They made for the ferns and lay down amongst them. Madeleine tried to sleep, but every nerve was taut, and every stirring of the night breeze jerked her awake. An owl hooted as it sat in a nearby tree. At last there was a hint of dawn in the night sky. They could make out the vague shapes of trees.

“We should get moving.” She nudged Annie.

Annie stirred, opening her eyes. “Is it morning?”

“You were asleep?”

“What else was there to do?” Annie sat up and smoothed down her hair. “I’d welcome a cup of coffee, wouldn’t you?”

“Not me. I don’t like it black, and remember, there’s no milk in cafés these days.”

They were about to get to their feet when they heard sounds. A dog barking.

“Get down.” Madeleine pulled Annie back into the ferns. To her horror she heard the sounds coming closer. The barking louder. And suddenly the dog was standing over them. They could feel its warm breath on them, its panting loud in their ears.

“What’s this, then?” said a man’s voice. A French voice.

They sat up, staring up at a man with a gun and a large hound.

“Oh monsieur, you terrified us,” Annie said, sitting up. “My sister and I had to leave Paris because where we were living was so dangerous, and we’re making for our aunt’s house in Moret-sur-Loing—do you know it? Have we still far to go?”

“You came on foot?” he asked. Now they could see he was an older man, still strong and upright but with a grey mustache and bags under his eyes.

“We started in the train, but there were German soldiers in our compartment, and they were fresh with us, so we got out at Bois-le-Roi and decided to walk the rest of the way,” Annie said. “But we got lost and it got dark, so we felt safer here. Now we’ll go back to the Bois-le-Roi station and continue our journey, hopefully in safety.”

“Those damned Germans. Always making trouble of one sort or another,” he growled. “Well, at least you have not strayed too far from the station. There is the good path up ahead. I’d invite you back to my house for something to eat, but I don’t think you want to go in the wrong direction. And my dog is anxious to get to work.”

“What work does he do?” Annie asked.

“We’re out hunting rabbits,” the old man said. “How else does one get meat these days? And old Louis here, he has a good nose for finding game. Rabbits, squirrels. Anything for the pot so my wife can make a stew.”

“We wish you good hunting, monsieur,” Annie said.

“And you too, ladies.” He tipped his old felt hat to them and whistled for the dog to follow him.

The two women got to their feet. “You were amazing,” Madeleine said. “I can see you’re going to be good at this. You think on your feet. So convincing.”

Annie grinned. “I was good at lying when I was a kid. I could make my mother believe anything. Who thought it would come in handy in later life? But I don’t think he was fooled for a minute. He knew who we are.”

“He did?”

“When I wished him good hunting, he replied, ‘You too,’ didn’t he? He suspected we were Resistance of some sort, but he was on our side.” She brushed down her coat. “Well, we’ve had good luck so far. Let’s hope it holds up. Ready to make for the station?”

RHYS: It was hard to find a snippet that was not a spoiler, but I think this gives you a feel of what the young women were up against during the war.

If you want to pre-order here is the link

And I'll give away a copy to one of today's commenters.  Enjoy.

Clothes Maketh the Woman

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: What to wear, what to wear? Never in my life--well maybe in high school, maybe in my 20s, well, never mind –– never in my life has any question been so fraught as right now: Deciding what to wear back in real life. I have no idea. I have spent the last two years in leggings and black T-shirts. I have now moved to black t-shirts and black floaty skirts. That’s it. I look at the clothes in my closet and think… What are those things?

Another tough decision is deciding what my characters wear. (Thinking back, a lot of them seem to wear all black. Oh well. Let’s move on.)

We welcome today our darling fabulous dear and beloved friend Catriona McPherson. Who has the perfect style of her own. And today, Reds and Readers, some thoughts about the fashion decisions her characters make ––and equally intriguingly, why.

Clothes Maketh the Woman
    by Catriona McPherson


I can’t remember who was once asked, “What did the sixties look like?” and answered, after a pause, “They looked like the fifties”, but I’ve never forgotten it. Of course! The sixties in real life looked like our idea of the fifties, since that idea came from Hollywood (or Pinewood). By the time ordinary people had saved up for their bubblegum-pink appliances and atomic-print curtains, it was the seventies, Hollywood was all brown and orange, and real life looked like the sixties.

I was determined to bear this in mind as I clothed the people – oh all right, the women! – in my new book. In 1948, Myrna Loy was helping Cary Grant build his dreamhouse, Judy Garland was wearing an Easter bonnet chosen by Fred Astaire, and James Stewart was at a very awkward Manhattan dinner party featuring a length of . . . Rope.

But my book is set in Edinburgh, more specifically the tenements of the Fountainbridge district, where the dairies, breweries, distilleries and abattoirs scent the air and employ the populace. My heroine Helen Crowther might go to the pictures twice a week with her mother and her wee sister but none of them can dash out to buy the clothes they see on screen. (Or the clothes they hear about on the news. Truly. On the day the book opens, the Royal family was in Edinburgh and the bulletins all mentioned that little Princess Margaret Rose wore a pink coat to church.)

Even the characters who do have a lavish wardrobe allowance are subject to their own kind of time-lag. It’s another truth about fashion that I remember switching on a like a lightbulb in my head when it hit me: people don’t age in to the style of the generation before them. When I’m old – no heckling, please! – I won’t be wearing what women in their eighties wear now (i.e. old-lady clothes). No, I’ll be wearing what I wear today and that will make my clothes old-lady clothes, because I’m wearing them. Like when the dowagers in Jane Austen adaptations are still wearing yards of satin and tight stays, while the girls float around in hankies. This point seems to be beyond all those irritating articles about what “No Woman Over __ Should Be Wearing”. Grrrrrrrrr.

Personal time-lag meant that forties’ fashion was completely irrelevant for one of my favorite characters in the book. Helen’s benefactor, Mrs Sinclair, is in her fifties, has found her style, and is sticking with it. She dresses to be impressive rather than attractive: a high neck, a cameo brooch, box pleats, a fox-fur even in the summer, and a system of undergarments that creak like ship’s rigging whenever she’s moved by high emotion. Usually umbrage. I was born in 1965, and I can just about remember elderly versions of Mrs Sinclair, buttoned and buttressed, undoubtedly impressive. I definitely remember the creaking.

Helen has no ambition to be grand, and she’s on a tight budget too. Besides, there’s yet another factor she needs to consider: she must dress the part for a new role that is nothing like her past life. She’s about to start work as an almoner at a doctor’s surgery – sort of a proto-type medical social worker, I suppose you’d say – and we meet her as she’s steeling herself to put on Sunday clothes on a Monday morning: nylon stockings with a seam instead of hard-wearing lisle, shoes with tipped heels instead of the clogs that keep her mother’s feet up off the bottling-hall floor; a serge skirt and a poplin shirt instead of wool and a pinny; and strangest of all . . . a hat. She has never worn a hat on a Monday.

Of course, then as now, the rules can be ignored. You might pay a price for the decision (and be turned away from a swanky club, for instance) or, if you’ve got clout, you might get away with it. One character in the book whom I dressed just about from living memory – although my God it makes me feel old to consult my childhood for historical material! – is the free-thinking, devil-may-care lady doctor (doctor = clout), who wears a cotton dress and sandals with – gasp – bare brown legs. It wasn’t a doctor who rocked the village where I was born, mind you. It was the minister’s wife. She attended Sunday service in this shocking ensemble: bare legs, brown leather sandals, toes on show to the entire parish. And, once, a love bite! (Actually, I think the parishioners who took the vapours might have had a bit of a point there.)

So, all in all, the clothes in the book are very little to do with the fashion of the day and a lot to do with power, expectations, and tribal loyalties. I could never understand why make-over shows don’t get that. Even Queer Eye, which I love, tends to dress a shape, not a life. Still, the Fab Five are nothing like the dreaded Trinny and Susannah from What Not To Wear, who blithely turned every woman they got their mitts on into what one critic called “a newly divorced travel agent on her way to the PTA”. Ouch.

So, Reds, I’m assuming there is nothing you’ll be scolded into not wearing by some random opinion piece that thinks it’s the boss of you. Let’s celebrate! I’ll start: I’m never giving up pictorial prints. I plan to die in a dress covered with . . . let’s say . . . beach huts, and might even rock a jean jacket in my coffin. How about you?


HANK: Good question, you all! (I also love watching Say Yes to the Dress, where half the time I’m yelling at the screen---no no no!) I cannot think about what I will wear in my coffin, yeesh, but I WILL say I will NEVER wear ruching, or cutouts, or those cold-shoulder things. Asymmetrical hems. Gaucho pants. (I know, but if they DO come back, just saying.) High platform sandals. Anything with tricky lacings or fluttery sleeves. I’ll stop now. 

But I love what you said, Catriona, about power, expectation, and loyalties. That is a key lesson!

Reds and readers—how about you? What items will you NEVER give up? Or...wear?


Catriona McPherson (she/her) writes preposterous 1930s detective stories about an aristocratic sleuth, darker (not difficult) contemporary psychological thrillers, and comedies set in the Last Ditch Motel in fictional (yeah, sure) California, She has just introduced a fresh character in June’s 1948-set IN PLACE OF FEAR, which finally marries her love of historicals with her own working-class roots.

Catriona is a proud lifetime member and former national president of Sisters in Crime. 


IN PLACE OF FEAR

Edinburgh, 1948. Helen Crowther leaves a crowded tenement home for her very own office in a doctor's surgery. Upstart, ungrateful, out of your depth - the words of disapproval come at her from everywhere but she's determined to take her chance and play her part.

She’s barely begun when she stumbles over a murder and learns that, in this most respectable of cities, no one will fight for justice at the risk of scandal. As Helen resolves to find a killer, she’s propelled into a darker world than she knew existed, hardscrabble as her own can be. Disapproval is the least of her worries now.

We Celebrate Ramona!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: How many of you have had a guardian angel? A mentor, a guide, a muse, a cheerleader- teamleader-guide?  For oh-so-many of us, the answer is: Yes! Ramona!

Ramona DeFelice Long –well, let’s talk about her. Personally? My book THE OTHER WOMAN  would not be what it is without her brilliant editing. But that’s just me.  Just the beginning. She’s the iron fist in the velvet glove (she’d tell me that’s a cliché, gently but firmly) for all her grateful authors n her daily writing sprints. She’s a generous and brilliantly reliable presence in her beloved Pennwriters, and every organization she’s has blessed with her presence. She’s a dear and treasured friend of the Reds, and of  all of us.

Plus. What a rock star. She’s hilarious, and wry, and knowing --and so many writers, like me, rely on her every word. We have shared many a glass of wine. Yes, Ramona.

Okay, and listen—that’s not even the point. Her new book is out! The Murderess of Bayou Rosa. Go right out—okay, not OUT, you can stay inside,  and not RIGHT NOW, because now you need to read this interview, but after you do, click click click and get Ramona’s book.  

Yes, Ramona.

HANK:   When was the first moment you knew you wanted to write? Or wait--did loving to read come first?

RAMONA: In 5^th Grade, I entered a patriotic poem contest sponsored by the VFW. This is how my poem began:

The grand ol’ flag of the USA

Flies in the wind of the windy day.

Clearly, poetry is not my wheelhouse, but my poem won the contest. “Grand Ol’ Flag” was published in the state VFW newsletter, and I was presented a $25 Savings Bond at a ceremony at the local VFW chapter. (Named, incidentally, after the first American soldier to die in WWII, Freddie Falgout lived one town away from where I grew up. He died one day before his 21^st birthday.)  After the presentation, the  VFW president handed me the original hand-written poem and asked if I’d like to read it. I was too surprised to be terrified, so I walked to the mic and read to an audience of foreign war veterans. Walking back to my seat, I was stopped by a man who whispered, “I could never read in front of people like that. You are braver than I am, young lady, and I fought at Guadalcanal!”

Add this up, and this is what you get: On a single night when I was twelve years old, I was published and paid, I gave a public reading, and was praised by a fan. I was young, but I had enough sense to realize I’d found my place in the world.  

HANK: Where did you grow up? What books did you read as a child that you remember now?

RAMONA: I had two childhoods. From birth to age seven, I lived in a neighborhood full of family: my grandmother, three aunts, one uncle, and nineteen cousins lived on my lane in Golden Meadow, Louisiana. The town was so named because fields of wild goldenrods grew every summer. It’s about 60 miles southwest of New Orleans. I spent summer weekends at Grand Isle, an island beach on the Gulf of Mexico that is also the setting for Kate Chopin’s The Awakening.

After a particularly nasty hurricane flooded our house, my father and a professional carpenter built our future home out of flood zone. It was in the middle of sugar cane fields. Our closest neighbor was my great-grandfather. I was eight; he was eighty-eight. The name of the closest town was Larose (ahem). My siblings and I spent summers in the middle of nowhere all summer because my mother, a nurse, always worked. I rode my bike, watched TV, fought with my brothers, and read. My mom took us to the library once a week. We were allowed to get 10 books. I usually read my 10 books in two days, so I read my sister and brothers’ books, which is why I know a lot about the U.S. space program and baseball.

My favorite books were Rumer Godden’s doll books, The Secret Garden and The Secret Language. I devoured all the brave girl books: Pippi, Anne with an e, Donna Parker, Katie John. All wonderful role models.

HANK: Donna Parker! Seriously. We have to talk. I learned SO much from Donna Parker.  Anyway. You have helped so many writers--including me. How did you come to be an editor?

RAMONA: I owe my career to my Great Friend and mentor, Nancy Martin. When Nancy started her Blackbird Sisters mystery series, we were in a critique group together. Brainstorming the Blackbirds was heavenly, because in between all the brave girl books I’d read thousands of mysteries, I had a knack for understanding characters and mystery plots. I must have absorbed how mysteries were supposed to work by reading so many at a young age. After critiquing Nancy’s first couple of mysteries, she asked if I would read a mystery manuscript from a friend, then another, until I realized I had a marketable skill. I decided, with no experience in business at all, to open my own editing service. I got my first big break when I was asked to edit the first Guppy anthology. Since FISH TALES was published in 2011, I had steady work as an editor.

Before anyone sends me a manuscript, I retired earlier this year. Working as a development editor, teaching online courses, and presenting workshops were an excellent way to spend the last decade.

HANK: What's the biggest mistake new authors make?  (Tell us as many as you want. Sigh.)

RAMONA: Without a doubt, the most common error is front loading the first few pages of a manuscript with background instead of action. “Action” does not need to be a car chase, but a telling event or a character in an intriguing situation.

Others, in no particular order:

Too many characters introduced too quickly. IRL, it’s tough to go to a party, meet a bunch of new people, and remember their names and how they are connect to the host. The same thing applies to fiction.

A character driving/waking up/making coffee, etc., ALONE. Unless isolation is a theme of the story, you are asking the reader to watch a character perform mundane acts. If the car breaks down or the windshield shattered by a gunshot, that’s a story.

Weather. There is weather everywhere, all the time. Unless it directly affects the story, weather is weather.

Misleading first impressions. IRL, we form instant impressions of people when we first meet them. Those impressions can be hard to shake. This means, if you introduce your protagonist in a compromising or weak or silly situation, will I believe it when she’s suddenly competent enough to solve a mystery?

HANK: LOVE this. I am printing it out. Now, you.  We are so thrilled with your new book! Congratulations! Give is the elevator pitch for  The Murderess of Bayou Rosa. . (You made us learn to do it--now it's your turn.)

RAMONA: In 1920, in a small bayou town, a free-spirited women shoots her lover in the back, sticking her hometown with a legal and moral dilemma: Can a jury of twelve men vote to hang a woman they’ve known since birth?

HANK:  Ooh.  I love justice stories. Where did the idea come from?

RAMONA: A couple of years ago, I needed a story to donate to a charity anthology. I was in the habit of walking every night after dinner, and I loved seeing the changes in the moon. It reminded me of a Louisiana saying: “Marry a man by the light of the  moon and he will be true to you.” 

That saying led me to a story about a moonlight wedding that goes awry. That story, “Light of the Moon,” was published in Into the Woods. It had an open ending, because I love open endings. (Others do not.) I was asked several times to write a sequel. Not until Sister Jean, who manages the retreat houses where I went 4 or 5 times a year, asked if I was writing a sequel did I really consider it. I went to Catholic school. I can’t say no to a nun.

HANK: Smiling. How was it to write? I mean--how long did it take to write THE MURDERESS OF BAYOU ROSA, what did you learn, how did it change you?

RAMONA: The first 2/3 were a snap! The short story gave me setting, characters, inciting incident, antagonist, voice, etc. It was like a summary and all I had to do was fill in what happened before the short story began. I did that, and made some significant changes, but writing it was a breeze. Took me six months to write 220 pages. (I hear you book-a-year folks laughing, but this is lightning speed for me!) The final one third took me a year and a half. It began where the short story ended, and the reason I’d left it open was because I had no clue what happened next. I wrote about ten endings (seriously). The last 100 pages took 18 months because I was never happy with the ending. Then I found Carl (who is sorta-kinda based on a real person) and the right ending showed itself. My first draft was 104,000 words. I got it down to 95k.

What did I learn? That I was not immune to some of the mistakes my clients made!

How did it change me?  I had to keep reminding myself that women had different attitudes in 1920. I did not want to write a false protagonist—a woman whose actions or ideas were unrealistic for the times. The lasting impression from this book is an acutely awareness of how very much we owe to the women who came before us, who fought for the vote, fought for women to serve on juries, fought to own property and not be property, fought to work outside the home, fought to hold public office, and fought to be educated, all the while cooking every meal from scratch, washing clothes by hand, and raising a family with no safety nets. I hugged my refrigerator and memories of my grandmothers many times while writing the book.

HANK: Aw. Like I said.   LOVE this. And yes,  open endings are so difficult. Just like life. Reds and readers--tell us someone who—like Ramona for me—has changed your life.

Yes! Ramona.  And TWO lucky commenters will win a copy of her wonderful new book! 

THE MURDERESS OF BAYOU ROSA

In the summer of 1920, in the town of Bayou Rosa, Louisiana, a free-spirited woman named Joelle Amais shoots her lover in the back but won't tell anyone why. Joelle is a woman with a checkered past, and as the weeks stretch between her arrest and a delayed trial, her defiant silence threatens to blow Bayou Rosa apart.

Joelle’s only ally is her daughter Geneva, the town schoolteacher, whose demure demeanor hides the stubbornness she inherited from her mother. Geneva is determined to see her mother get a fair trial, but now the town is faced with a legal and moral dilemma. With rows of new graves in the cemetery from a devastating world war and influenza epidemic, can a jury of twelve men vote to hang a woman they’ve seen grow up since birth?

Ramona DeFelice Long writes short fiction, essays, memoir and one novel about family, women, and quirky things that come her way. Her work has appeared in numerous literary and regional magazines. She is a Louisiana native now living in Delaware.

Website: www.ramonadef.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ramona.d.long Ramona’s Sprint Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/270472177602954/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/ramonadef

One Perfect Summer...

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Did you ever have a perfect summer? These are the things we must remember. The memories we must keep alive, right? But oh--what if your summer brought a new family member?

First, a summer story.

Long long ago, in a lifetime far away, (and not just like, a month ago but I’m talking… 2008?) one summer I went to a writers convention, though I can’t remember which one .I do remember it was overwhelming and terrifying--I had no book, no friends, and, basically not a clue.

There was this gorgeous woman, surrounded by people, radiating joy and radiating friendship and radiating generosity, laughing and engaged. “Who is that?” I asked someone. They looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “Well that’s… Brenda Novak,” she whispered. 

Little did I know how pivotal Brenda would be in my life. She took me under her gorgeous wing, sweetly and generously, blurbed one of my books, and has been a pal and cheerleader ever since. And I have watched her, with joy, rise to amazing glory, to becoming an international, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author.

But really? It’s not about me. It’s about Brenda. She’s written well, I don’t even know how many books, because her book list is SEVEN PAGES LONG. She’s written romantic suspense and gorgeous romance and psychological suspense and several series--groundbreaking and page-turning and relentlessly readable. She knows her audience brilliantly, and also knows her heart.

She has an amazing book club, have you seen it on Facebook? She has the Brenda Novak book boxes that come out every month, oh my gosh, I can’t begin to tell you everything she has organized to benefit her readers, and bring us together as a community. Click here, and be wowed.

She’s also a relentless and devoted fundraiser in the battle against diabetes, and her skill has raised an incredible amount of money, both in person and in her memorable auction events.

Besides being a brilliant writer, this woman is an absolute mixture of saint, rockstar, and BFF.

And now she has a new book. And even though you might think that for her, this would be la-dee-dah just another day in the life, she, like so many other authors, has had the publishing rug pulled out from under her. She’s handling this with her authentic grace and her own personal style and faith, but I wanted to make sure you knew about her. And if you don’t already, and that you look for her brand new ONE PERFECT SUMMER.

How about this for irresistible:  “When Serenity Alston swabbed her cheek for 23And Me she joked about uncovering some dark ancestral scandal. The last thing she expected was to discover to have sisters she didn’t know existed. Suddenly....”

Suddenly what? Well, you just have to read the rest.

And how can you resist? You don’t have to!  Today, right here, Brenda will make it easier. She is offering a $30 gift certificate to the Brenda Novak store… She has a store--where they sell Brenda Novak book boxes, autographed copies of one perfect summer and other reader packages. How awesome is that! And one lucky lucky commenter will win! 

The amazing Brenda will draw a winner herself in the next few days. Tell us your one perfect summer! One of them, at least. And one thing that made it so fabulous.

OR! Do you have a 23andMe type experience? What happened?

You could win this fabulous prize--just tell us all about it!

A DNA test upended everything they knew about their lives. Three sisters. One secret.

Kindle: https://amzn.to/2uu1uLJ

iBook: https://apple.co/2MZqcMX

Nook: http://bit.ly/2RhawEU

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2L1EAlc

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2IpqYhP

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2NUiUZ4

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/31HM6Iq 

Target: http://bit.ly/2vneR0G

Charmed and Fabulous: Rhys Bowen's New Book!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Trying to remember when I first met Rhys Bowen--it was at the St. Martins party at...Bouchercon? Or somewhere. And I've never told her this, but she was a vision. I mean--sorry for being sappy, but there was an aura around her. A real glow--of happiness and joy and genuine engagement. And we chatted, and clicked, and laughed and laughed, and there might have been wine involved,  and the next day, she was a Red. (Where was this photo taken, anyone remember? )

Since then, we have been real sisters--sharing success and disappointment and writer's craziness and family rites of passage--and always always, Rhys has a genuine enjoyment and appreciation and gratitude for everything that happens. Even the downs--she faces them with high sprits and optimism.

And her new book? Crowned and Dangerous comes out tomorrow! (Yay! Pre-order here, just saying)   Wow, Rhys--I have never read such glowing reviews! Except for your other books  :-) but anyway, one reviewer (in a  starred review!) called you a combination of Agatha Christie and PG Wodehouse. Well, that's quite a tribute. What do you think about that, dear Rhys? And --if this is even possible--was that a conscious decision?

RHYS: I have a confession to make, Hank. I was in awe when I met you. I mean so chic, not a hair out of place and those impossibly high heels. And then we clicked instantly and becoming one of the Reds was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. You guys are the sisters I never had.

HANK: Aw. xoxo. Meant to be.

RHYS: As far as Christie and Wodehouse. Wow, that is a little humbling and gobsmacking! I don't set out to write like anybody. Every book I have written has been a book I wanted to read and it wasn't on the shelf. I'm flattered that anyone should compare me to such giants but I think I still have a way to go!

HALLIE: Darcy and Lady Georgie are on their way to Scotland get married when Darcy's father is murdered, and so the book takes us to Ireland instead. And what an Ireland it is! Can you tell us about the wonderful settings for the book?

RHYS: Those who read the last book in the series (Malice in the Palace) will know we left Georgie and Darcy in a cliff-hanger, on their way to Scotland to get married. We know the course of true love never does run smooth in books so they run into a blizzard in Yorkshire and then Darcy sees a headline in the morning newspaper that sends him rushing to Ireland and leaving Georgie behind.

I adore Ireland. it's so fresh and green and the people are so warm. So I set the book in horse country, where there are lush meadows with thoroughbreds in them and sweeping hills and old castles. I've visited quite a few of those old castles, had a medieval banquet at Bunratty and even kissed the Blarney Stone (actually not really kissed it. Kissed air about an inch away. Think of all those lips who went before me!)

LUCY: Two questions for you Rhys. First is about lady Georgie's voice, which is one of the things I love most about the Royal spyness series. Did her voice just come to you, or did you have to work on imagining who she was first?

And second is a question about how to maintain such a grueling schedule and exceptional career over the long haul. It was so exciting to hear about your early children's book being fashioned for the London stage. Any advice for writers looking to stick this out through thick and thin?

RHYS: Lady Georgie's voice came to me when I first started to write. I didn't stop until I'd written 25 pages and she still won't shut up. I just listen to her and write it down.  I saw her and knew her instantly and she's been a joy to spend time with. It's such fun to sit at the computer and chuckle.

Second question: 2 books a year. Yes, I'm a crazy woman. The problem is I have two publishers and they both want a book a year. But then what would I do if I didn't write? I think the way for a writer to have a long career is never be satisfied, always wanting to do better than the last book, and being prepared to reinvent yourself. Oh, and to see the play of my book in London was such a thrill!

DEBS: Rhys, I am in awe of you. Two (at least!) very different books a year, and both so good. But I wonder if you look forward to Georgie when you're writing Molly, because Georgie is just so much fun? And another question, the Georgie books always seem so effortless. Do you ever find yourself struggling with the plot or lost in the middle? (And of course I'd ask if you'll ever let Georgie marry Darcy, but I don't think you'll tell us...)

HANK: Oh, that's such a good question! And yes, they do seem effortless. Rhys, do you work solidly on one, and then the next?  Or back and forth?

RHYS: Debs, when I'm writing Molly I always dream of writing Georgie, and the other way around. The grass is always greener, I guess. But I could never switch between them. When I'm writing Molly I am in New York, 1905. I sometimes snap at John because Molly is mad at Daniel! And when I write Georgie I am completely in her world. In fact it's hard to switch off. I do plenty of lying awake, staring at the ceiling and muttering to myself! I have to wait a few weeks before I am ready to switch to the other. I can tell I'm ready when I start getting little ideas for plot twists.

HANK: Let me sneak in a little about CROWNED AND DANGEROUS--and yes, let's see that wonderful cover again!

 Nothing is simple when you’re thirty-fifth in line for the British crown, least of all marriage. But with love on their side, and plans to elope, Lady Georgiana Rannoch and her beau Darcy O’Mara hope to bypass a few royal rules...

With Darcy driving me out of London in a borrowed motor car, I soon discover that he isn’t planning to introduce me to the pleasures of sinning in secret—as I had hoped—but to make me his wife!

Of course, there are some quibbles to be dealt with, such as my needing special permission from the King to marry a Roman Catholic and the question of where we might live after the honeymoon. Though he will inherit a title, Darcy is as broke as I am. Even his family’s Irish castle has been sold to a rich American who now employs Darcy’s father as a hired hand.

Throwing these cares to the wind, nothing could deter us from our mission—except perhaps the news that my future father-in-law has just been arrested. It seems the rich American was murdered and Darcy’s father had more than enough motive to do the deed. With the elopement postponed, we head for Ireland where he insists he’s innocent, and it’s up to us to prove it—for better or worse.

JULIA: No question - just pure admiration. I adore the Lady Georgie books and have put so many in the hands of readers. I simply say, "Imagine one of those sparkling 1930's comedies crossed with Agatha Christie" and bam! Who could resist?

I'm also, like Debs, in awe of how Rhys manages two wonderful books a year, traveling with John, book tours and conferences, close relationships with her grown kids, grandkids, and granddogs...and still stay eminently sane and healthy. One begins to suspect a portrait in the attic.

(Rhys: not so sure about the sane part, Julia!)

Congrats on Crowned and Dangerous, Rhys!

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Let me add my congratulations! Rhys, I've never met you in person, but have nothing but respect for your writing, not least the speed at which you write not one, but two series! Hearty congrats on CROWNED AND DANGEROUS!

HANK: Cannot wait or the entire Red contingent to be together, Susan! Whoa. Pick a date--our house! 

So, dear Reds and readers--what questions do you have for Rhys? About when she met the Queen? When she sang with --who was it, Rhys?  And what--can you tell us?-do you love the most about writing CROWNED?

RHYS:  Thank you all so much for this, darling Reds. I feel so blessed to have you all.  One thing I loved about writing Crowned was some new and very eccentric relations. I loved how Georgie and Darcy's relationship is almost shattered and hangs on anyway. And a really complex plot!

And I'll give a signed copy to one lucky commenter!

What We're Writing: In which Hank Rejoices (but not for long)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: What we’re writing week—I’m usually happy that alphabetically that makes me second in line to reveal the latest. But this week, I wish my name began with a later letter.

I’m juggling! And it’s terrific and fun and ca-razy.  Three things:

One: Whoo-do-doo-hoo. I finished the final final manuscript of SAY NO MORE. Not just kind of finished, or sort of finished, or someone else still has to look at it finished. But I’m talkin’ 12,000 (yes 12,000) word cutting, “at least” and “of course” deleting, em-dash deleting (thank you Ramona Long), plot-twist realizing and epiphany-hitting finished. Remind me of this when I am freaking out later, okay?  I really really really love it.

Here’s a tiny bit of SAY NO MORE—from a new character named Isabel Russo (whose name used to be Natalie Ruggerio, but somehow that didn’t work and now this new name is perfect.)

                                                        

                                                                      *****

Nothing had happened to “him,” of course. She’d never say his name again. Never even think it. Never poison her mind with it. She’d make him a no one, a nobody, exactly as he’d done to her.

She looked up, glanced around as if someone could be watching. It always felt as if someone were, which was ridic. But Dame Callas’s darkly disapproving eyes seemed to stare right at her, and Mirella’s sweet expression had turned to pity. Isabel blinked, dismissing her fantasy. They’re only posters. She looked at her watch. 6:30.  Gormay on the Way would arrive in an hour.

She had time.

She clicked into Facebook, hit the bookmark for his profile.  Smiling, smiling, smiling. It was like this every day. Why did she keep looking?  She went to Instagram, checked his IG photos. She’d watched as his friend list grew, saw him amass endless “likes” with his stupid sports and silly pop concert tickets and dumb jokes. He’d gotten a new car, she saw, scanning the newest photos. Another new girlfriend. She was smiling, too, even kind of seemed familiar. She clicked away from the heart-twisting, stomach-turning site. Enough. 

Her next stop was always the “help” sites. Somehow, not being alone in her grief was reassuring. Even though it should have been chilling. But she had to look, once a day, every day.

Sexually assaulted on campus? We want to hear your story.

            The headline on the Facebook WE CAN HELP home page was so shocking, so surprising, so unexpected, she blinked at it, willing her eyes to go back into focus. The postage-stamp-sized icon was of a scale of justice.  Maybe you can prevent this from happening to someone else, the article began. Make a difference, it said. Take back the power.

Click here, it said.

She looked up again. It really felt as if someone was watching. The back of her neck prickled, and she could hear the silence.

Click? She could not do it. Why should she? All these hours she’d spent, making this place her refuge. Give that up with a click? No. She’d created a tiny bit of peace out of her shambles of a life. No way would she ever relive or talk about it again.

Click?

But how could it hurt just to see? “Prevent this from happening to someone else,” it said. She’d never wish her burden on anyone. Could she help instead? She touched her forefinger to the silver mouse. And pushed.

She steeled herself, waiting, not sure what to expect. Could they trace this? Know who she was? Should she close the computer, forget about it, fade to black? Maybe this was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

            She leaned her head back against the top rail of her kitchen chair, crossed her arms, felt the warmth of her bare skin. Briefly closed her eyes.  No. The biggest mistake she’d ever made was going to that party. She shook her head, wondering.  It was an odd relief, maybe, to understand that nothing worse could ever happen to her. Maybe that was her power.

Isabel paused, fingers poised over her keyboard. Thinking about the phone number now on the screen. Should she call? The atmosphere of the room changed, a flicker of shadow through the maple tree outside, and then a single shaft of light glinted a rainbow on her keyboard, the spectrum of colors changing, dancing, playing across her fingers. Smiling in spite of herself, she looked up to see her little window crystal twisting in the resolute sunshine. 

                                           *****

                         

Two: PRIME TIME  is coming back. I mean—no pressure, but pre-order now!

You know the absolutely unbelievable journey of PRIME TIME, right?  The first book in the fun and funny Charlotte McNally mystery series came out from NEXT, in 2007.  And it won the AGATHA!   Then came FACE TIME, a Booksense Notable book. Then the Next imprint was pulled, and I thought I was doomed.

But rejoice!  The fabulous MIRA picked up the series, reissued PRIME TIME and FACE TIME in mass market size with gorgeous new covers, and went on to AIR TIME AND DRIVE TIME ,both of which were nominated for the Agatha and Anthony.

Then I had the idea for THE OTHER WOMAN, and got a new publisher, the amazing Forge. (All wonderful, and you all know the Jane Ryland story.)

But rejoice!

FORGE loves Charlie McNally, and they are re-issuing the whole series, one every other month this year, in trade paperback and hardcover.

WHOO HOO!

If you like Jane Ryland, I do hope you will meet Charlotte McNally, her just-a-bit-older older  (and more-that-a-bit funnier) reporter predecessor.  

Here’s a tiny bit of PRIME TIME:

It may be that Angela Nevins doesn’t hate me. It may be she hates everybody. But here she is at my door.

“Charlie, Franklin, good morning. Great Job on the newsbreak, Charlie. Thanks for bailing us out.”

Angela has apparently read in one of her management manuals that it’s productive to begin potentially contentious conversations

by using some sort of a compliment. Softens up the peons for what’s to come.

I don’t dare glance at Franklin because one of us is sure to roll our eyes and make the other laugh. Plus I can never forget that even though on paper Angela’s my boss, she’s at least five years younger than I am. Maybe six. That she’s allowed to tell me what

to do is unrelenting torture.

Angela turns her back as if Franklin doesn’t exist and picks up where she left off with me, “We need you to handle an interview we’ve arranged with the wife.”

Am I supposed to know what she’s talking about?

“What wife?” I say out loud.

I get one of those “I can’t believe you reporters are so dense”looks.

“The accident victim’s wife.” Angela looks down at her clipboard, taps on it with her pencil. “Bradley Foreman? Aztratech? He’s dead. Car accident. His wife told the assignment desk she’d talk. But we’ve got to move quickly, before some lawyer shows up and orders her to keep quiet. So, Charlie, you’re the only reporter here at the station. If we wait for the next one to arrive, we may lose the story.”

This is simply unfair. She’s assigning me vulture patrol. I loathe vulture patrol. I paid my on- the- street dues for years, trying to convince the brokenhearted and miserable there was some noble

reason they should go on camera. I’m supposed to be done with all that now.

But because I’m here early, I’m the only reporter who’s available. And as a result, I’m the one who’s nailed.

Course they don’t teach in J- school: The Early Bird Gets the Work.

If you haven’t read the Charlie books, tell me in the comments! And one lucky commenter will get one as a gift.

SO happy about this! But hmm, wondering. Question for you all:  How do I market and promote? Any ideas?

Our back yard last week!

Three:  Ah. Hmm. I have a new book to write. It’s called OUT COLD.  And it comes out in October 2017.

And, sisters, that’s all I got. Not a word written, NOT. ONE. WORD. It is due in 11  months.

Ahhhh.  

So I sit, and ponder, and wait for a good idea. I trust it will arrive when it should. Which I’m thinking had better be soon. I have blizzard, and cold cases. And wills. And knockouts.   Hey—any one you have any good ideas—or any ideas for that matter-what OUT COLD can be?

And one lucky commenter gets a copy of the all-new edition of PRIME TIME!