What Can Happen When a Writer Retires , by Kathy Lynn Emerson

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I was delighted to catch up with Kathy Lynn Emerson at this June's Maine Crime Wave. As we were chatting (and I was trying to not look like I was eating all the tiny spinach quiches, which I was) she dropped a bombshell on me. 

She was retiring! 

I'm afraid I gaped in a very inelegant way (and probably with green between my teeth.) Kathy Lynn (and Kaitlyn Dunnett and Kate Emerson) has been part of the national and New England mystery scene forever. I read Face Down in the Marrow Bone Pie as part of my home-made crime fiction education back in the late nineties, and of course her Liss MacCrimmon series, set in the wonderfully named Moosetookalook, Maine are required reading in my neck of the woods. 

Of course, as she explained to me, she had some very good reasons. And as you'll see here, it's not quite like she's resting on her laurels...

 

 A question I hear a lot these days is: Why did you decide to retire? There isn't just one answer. I'm well over the traditional retirement age of sixty-five. I have arthritis, making long hours in front of a computer painful. The publisher of the two cozy mystery series I wrote as Kaitlyn Dunnett dropped both of them during the Covid lockdown and wasn't interested in the only other suggestion I had for a new series. No other publisher was exactly beating down my door, begging for a new book by Kathy Lynn Emerson or Kaitlyn Dunnett or Kate Emerson. After having had sixty-four books traditionally published between 1984 and 2021, I wasn't interested in writing something I wasn't enthusiastic about just to make a sale, especially if acceptance would mean committing to spending more time promoting a new book than it took to write it. I exaggerate, but not by much!

 

But the real reason I decided to call it quits was that, in spite of all the extra writing time available to me during Covid, I couldn't come up with a single new story idea. I still can't. Apparently, I've already used all the ones that appeal to me, some more than once. If I were to try to write another novel, I'd end up reusing plot devices, or settings, or character types, and possibly all three. I've always believed in recycling bits and pieces of discarded writing, but not to that extent!

 

That said, my career as a writer didn't exactly end. Even before Covid, I had started work on several self-publishing projects—all material I'd already written but which had never found a commercial home, in particular my grandfather's memoirs and a collection of over 2300 mini-biographies of women who lived in England from 1485 to 1603. I'd posted the text of both The Life of a Plodder and A Who's Who of Tudor Women online for free for years, but let's face it, those files really do disappear after a while. For—well, let's call it my legacy—I wanted a more permanent format. The Who's Who has too many pages for a print edition to be feasible, but works well as an e-book. For other projects, I was able to produce both e-books and print-on-demand trade paperbacks.

 

Oh, yes. There were more. My earliest published books were written for young readers. I wrote more of those than I sold and still had the unsold manuscripts. Plus I issued new editions of the ones that were traditionally published back in the 1980s. Then I put together a collection of essays (originally posts at Maine Crime Writers) titled I KillPeople for a Living, and a collection of short stories featuring pet photographer Valentine Veilleux, the character I'd once hoped would be the sleuth in a new cozy series.

 

 

At that point, I was still calling myself semi-retired, but people were traveling again. Conferences were back on. Invitations to speak at libraries in person started to reappear. And I realized that I didn't want to do any of that anymore. It's not that I don't like people. I do. But even Zoom programs are exhausting. Worse, prep time, travel time, and the usual pre-and post-performance second-guessing myself would take time away from working on my "projects." That's when I started saying "Sorry. I'm retired."

 

By then I'd branched out into creating e-book omnibus editions of my backlist historical mystery series—three volumes of novels and stories from my Elizabethan-era Face Down series and a one-volume collection of the Diana Spaulding mysteries set in the U.S. in 1888. Next up I planned to create an e-book omnibus edition of the three historical romantic suspense novels I wrote for the Harper Monogram line of paperback originals back in the early 1990s. And that's when things took an odd turn.

 

While I made a few changes to the other books before issuing those omnibus editions (mostly getting rid of excessive use of 'tis and 'twas), they held up well. I expected the first of my romantic suspense novels, Winter Tapestry, to be the same. It didn't quite work out that way. The more I read, the more I itched to make changes. To make it better. To take it back to the mystery  novel it had started out to be all those years ago. I ended up rewriting the whole thing, including reducing the number of point-of-view characters from many to one. I might not have had any fresh ideas for new books in years, but suddenly I had plenty of ideas for making an old story better.

 

I ended up with a new novel. Sort of. It isn't considered a new book by traditional publishers, or so my agent informs me. Since they would feel bound to reveal that it had been previously published, they would lose the opportunity to have it reviewed as a new title. Therefore, no one was interested in buying it. If I hadn't already been into Indie publishing, I might have been discouraged. As it is, Death of an Intelligence Gatherer (formerly Winter Tapestry) is available now for pre-order and the release date as an e-book and trade paperback is August 9.

 

Did I mention I've also created print-on-demand editions of two of my backlist nonfiction titles? How to Write Killer Historical Mysteries is already out and The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in Renaissance England 1485-1649 releases on July 19.

 

I may be retired, but I'm busier than ever . . . and loving every minute of it.

 

Kathy Lynn Emerson has had sixty-four books traditionally published under several names and has self published others. She won the Agatha Award and was an Anthony and Macavity finalist for best mystery nonfiction of 2008 for How to Write Killer Historical Mysteries and was an Agatha Award finalist in 2015 in the best mystery short story category. In 2023 she won the Lea Wait Award for "excellence and achievement" as a Maine writer from the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance. She was the Malice Domestic Guest of Honor in 2014. She is currently working on creating e-book omnibus editions of her backlist titles. Her website is www.KathyLynnEmerson.com

 

What We're Writing...Jenn McKinlay

 Jenn McKinlay: First, let me tell you the winner of Leslie Budewitz's Solace - commenter Pat D! Congratulations, Pat! 

You can reach Leslie here: leslie at drbeans dot come to let her know if you'd like the book or audio version. 

Technically, at the moment, I'm writing a proposal for my next rom-com that is "off the record, on the QT, and very hush-hush" (nod to James Ellroy) for now. There's nothing I can say about it other than it takes place on Martha's Vineyard in July and I am really looking forward to going to the Vineyard next summer (please let the world be normal again) for the research. A hardship, I know.

The next project in the queue is tackling the copyedited manuscript for For Batter or Worse. I have a few weeks to get them done so it's nice to be able to take my time as I go through the manuscript. I've been very fortunate with my copyeditors and I'm not the sort of author who can't have her genius questioned. If a copyeditor doesn't "get me", I try to see why and if there are tweaks necessary to make my words more accessible, I'm happy to make them.

After that, I should have the revisions for Wait For It, the women's fiction rom-com coming out next summer. It's set in Phoenix, my current hometown area, so that was fun to write. Revisions are actually my favorite part of the process as the hard work of getting the words on the page are done and the pruning and reshaping can happen with clearer eyes.

Here's a sneak peek at a section of the proposed cover (just for fun):

Then, it's "back to one" to write Killer Research, the next library lover's mystery set in the fictional town of Briar Creek, CT, due by the end of the year. Oh, wow, it's mid October! I think I just broke into a sweat. 

This is the convergence of projects moment where I tend to have repeated small panic attacks. I have something in every stage of production RIGHT NOW and if I think about it too much I get completely overwhelmed which causes me to become paralyzed and then I spend endless hours on Etsy, shopping for everything from corn scented ear of corn shaped soap to a Ouija board lunch box. I wish I was kidding but I really am a master level at procrastination.

Ear of corn soap!

Ouija Lunchbox!

When I peel myself off Etsy, I try to cut my work down to manageable bites and figure out just what has to be done that day. Some days are amazing and I get more done than I planned and other days are a complete bust, and I am sure I'm doomed. After ten years, I'm getting used to the pitch and roll of this writer's ocean but still.

I get a lot of questions about my time management since I do manage to get things done. I wish I had a simple answer but the truth is I just overcommit and then flail around at the keyboard in a complete flurry of angst until I get the words on the page, the copyedits read, the revisions shaped, and so forth. When my back is to the wall, I turn off the Internet and give the Hub my phone. That usually does the trick. Well, that and snacks.

So, Reds and Readers, do tell? What is your procrastination of choice? How do you kick start yourself when you are literally out of time?

 

How Writing a Novel is like Having a Dog @coop

LUCY BURDETTE: Our guest today is our good friend Mike Cooper. He's too modest to come right out and say this, but his forthcoming novel is the winner of the first-ever Mysterious Press Award, and it's coming our way in September. Today, though, he has an interesting post about his writing process....

MIKE COOPER: Writing a novel is not like driving a car at night (sorry, E.L.), at least for me.  Well, unless the car is stalled, there are food wrappers and empty cans scattered about the floor, and the engine just ... won’t ... TURN OVER.  Also it’s cold and snowing and the troopers have already been by, but only to issue a ticket for a broken taillight.  Oh, and the arrival deadline is midnight.

But that’s not today’s metaphor (salient though it might be to the current work-in-process).  No, today we’re going to talk about why writing a novel is like having a dog.Look, there’s OUR dog!  Isn’t she great?  Her name is Bailey, a black-lab-plus-who-knows-what mix.  Utterly charming, cheerful, energetic, and unfailingly eager to meet new people, Bailey loves the world and everything in it.  (Except a few other dogs, and vegetables, and coming back when called.  I guess she’s not perfect.)

Anyway, she’s been with us for a year and a half, which coincidentally is about how long it takes me to knock off a novel.  And that’s only the beginning.  Here are all the eerie parallels between a dog and an unfinished manuscript.

+  Both require waaaay more time than you think.


Years earlier we got a cat.  Man, cats are EASY.  Show him the litter box –- done!  Scratch his head now and then, provide a few catnip toys, get some dried fish from H-Mart; ten minutes a day tops.  We can even leave him alone for a weekend no problem.

A dog is not like that.  Sure the kids promised to take care of the walks, but you know how that goes.  First thing upon waking, mid-morning, mid-afternoon and before bedtime –- that’s a couple hours right there.  Plus constant demands for attention inside the house, struggles over bed space at night, various medical emergencies.  It’s a wonder anything else ever gets done around here ... including, you know, writing.


+  Paper training is just like a first draft.

It takes forever, you’re constantly cleaning up messes, and it’s impossible to escape the frequent question “why exactly am I doing this??”  And just when you think you’re done . . . you’re NOT.

+  You get yanked around a lot.

A better dog owner would have spent more time training, instilling discipline and obedience, but for better or worse that’s not us.  So walks can be a struggle, with sudden full-power lunges after squirrels and rabbits (and small fluffy dogs led by nice elderly women, a particular peeve of Bailey’s for some unfathomable reason).  Hey, is that a skunk? –- let’s check it out!Developing a storyline is much like that, at least for me.  The characters are constantly jumping away in unexpected directions, going off script, completely twisting up the leash –- I mean the plot.  First rewrites are always a nightmare, as I try to restore order and bring everyone to heel.

Then there’s the whole business side of writing, which is like the worst dog walk ever.

But it’s not all bad ...

+  You make new friends.

Oddly for such solitary business, writing has introduced me to all sorts of people, many of whom I quite like.  In the same way, an hour at the dog park every day has introduced us to a group of other regulars, and we really look forward to seeing them.  Their owners are nice too.

+  In the end, you can’t live without either.

For all the complaining one might do, at the end of the day there’s nothing like a dog curled up by your side, warm and comfy and full of love.  Just like a finished manuscript!

Except for the drool, of course.


Question for writers: Cats famously interfere with the creative process by walking on keyboards.  What has your dog done to help, or hinder, that next novel? For readers: How about some cute dog stories?

Mike Cooper has wanted for years to write a vampire dog detective romance told from the dog’s POV.  His next novel, however, is THE DOWNSIDE, coming in September from Mysterious Press / Open Road.  He lives outside Boston with his family, including one cat and, yes, one dog.  More at www.mikecooper.com.

Whistle While You Work

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Once again, it's Labor Day, the American holiday that honors workers by giving them the day off their jobs (unless you're in retail, in which case you're punching in on Labor Day and at 3pm on Thanksgiving, too. Maybe we should bring back Blue Laws?) Two years ago, we wrote about the worst jobs we ever had. Lucy won that one hands down, with her college job feeding chunks of raw liver to axelotls.

This Labor Day, I thought we could dish on the best jobs we've ever had. For me, it was being a docent at The Dumbarton House, a beautiful Federal house museum in Georgetown in DC. I was working on my masters in museum studies at George Washington University, and this was literally the perfect job. I took visitors through the meticulously restored rooms, explaining the history of the house, furnishings and the family. Since Dumbarton House was one of the lesser-known gems in Washington, I had a lot of free time. I would hang out in the cozy kitchen, drinking tea or getting home-baked goodies from volunteers. The house is the headquarters of the Society of Colonial Dames, so they were all lovely older ladies who thought becoming a museum professional was about the best thing ever. Or, I would spread out my books and papers and work in the library. When my stint was done, I would walk through the leafy, cobblestone streets of Georgetown, admiring the restored house facades, and then do a bit of window shopping on Wisconsin Ave. before catching my bus to the Cathedral area, where I lived. It was the only job I've ever had where I ended the day more refreshed and energized than when I had started.

How about you, Reds? Have you ever had a dream job?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Oh, I love my job right now! And I almost always have, ever since my first real job as a radio reporter, then for Rolling Stone Magazine, then a US Senate staffer, then a TV reporter. All wonderful! But as a teenager, I did have a dream job. I worked in a record store.
Records. You know records, right?

It was called Lyric Records, and it was a tiny one-room store in downtown Indianapolis. (It also had those little booths where people could take records and listen.) Part of my job was to select the record that would be on the store's sound system. To make it more fun, I would suss out each customer who came in, and see if I could pick a new record they would love. Everything sounded so good on the store's speakers! And it was really interesting to see if my intuition clicked  You'd see the customer's head come up, and they'd stop, and listen, and then come up to me and say--what's that playing right now?

And I knew I had scored.. (Malcolm Gladwell would love this, right?)

I sold a LOT of Harry Nilsson.

LUCY BURDETTE: I truly enjoyed my work as a psychologist, but I can't think of any jobs I love more than being a writer. I certainly don't love every minute (like now, for example, when I know I need to be getting four-five pages done every day for the next few months and I'm not sure where the plot is headed...) But I love so much about it--an idea that comes out of nowhere and makes your hair tingle...seeing the book cover or the page proofs for the first time...hearing from readers...and most of all, the dear friends I've made. I consider myself beyond lucky to have this job!

HALLIE EPHRON: Most challenging, most rewarding job I ever had was my first year teaching. Fresh out of NYU with an MA in education, I was hired to teach a sixth-grade class of "non-English-speaking" kids at PS 189 on 189th Street and Amsterdam in Manhattan. I had no idea what I was doing (I was not trained to teach non-English) and there were NO materials. Zip zero zilch, other than first-grade readers which were so inappropriate for 12-year-olds and 6th-grade textbooks  that they couldn't read in other subjects.
So I winged it. I remember Roberto who was just off the boat from Cuba. Evaristo and Evangelina from Greece. An adorable Latvian kid and his twin sister. Poor Xiomara from the Dominican Republic who was so confused that by the end of the year she barely still spoke Spanish. Solemn-faced Roxanna who was so bright and I hope turned out to be a writer. I can remember almost every child in that class, and to say I learned as much as they did that year would be an understatement. I hope the NYC public schools now have materials for kids like mine - they deserved better.

RHYS BOWEN: I've been a writer for most of my life and that seems to be the perfect job for me--especially since they invented laptop computers. I can sit and write under a palm tree on a beach or a mountain top. I get to live in a pretend world. However my first real job after college was in the BBC drama department and sometimes that seemed like a dream job. I got to work with the biggest names in British stage and cinema. Imagine me as as twenty two year old telling Sir John Guilgud where to stand! When we had the perfect cast, a wonderful script and on the day we were recording we sometimes went on until midnight. Then we'd all go out to a pub to celebrate and when I came in the next morning there would be flowers on my desk from the producer. I remember telling my parents I couldn't believe I was being paid for it!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Oh, you are all so glamorous!  Before I sold my first book, I had a couple of either dull or really awful jobs. Other than those, I worked off and on in my family's business for more than a decade. My parents were manufacturer's reps in the theater concession business. I liked the business but was never passionate about it, unlike my dad, who had built it up from scratch. I think if I hadn't become a writer, my dad would have been heart broken that I didn't want to carry on his legacy. As it was, he was hugely proud of my achievements. And the business taught me a lot about people skills--invaluable for a writer.

So I think I can safely say that writing is THE BEST job I've ever had, or ever dreamed of having, even with those nasty deadlines...






How about you, dear readers? What were your best jobs?

A Room of One's Own

RHYS BOWEN: A Room of One's Own.Remember that wonderful essay by Virginia Woolf on a writer, especially a female writer's need for personal space. That made a profound impression on me when I was in college and was sure I was destined to become a writer. Well, I've been thinking about it recently.
I love to follow my friends on Facebook and have been bemused by Nancy Pickard always going to a coffee shop to write. (Hey, I know J.K. Rowling did it too and it didn't exactly hurt her). But there is no way I could sit in a noisy, public environment like that and get any work done. I need my own confined space and no distractions. I can't have music playing or I'd listen to it. I can't be facing the window or I'd stare at the view. We have quite a big house and in theory I could choose any one of five empty bedrooms as my office. In fact I still keep to the smallest of those rooms because I have everything around me where I need it. I can swivel my chair to reach a bookcase or the credenza or either printer or the white board on which I jot notes. I have my award certificates on the wall to remind me what I can achieve if I do my best work. And in full confession mode I have a few toys to play with: the hologram top to spin, the wind-up teeth.. I won't go on. Too embarrassing.
I have to know that I'm in MY space, where I can talk through scenes out loud if necessary, swear if necessary, bang my head against the desk if necessary, or even do a happy dance when my agent phones with good news. When things aren't going smoothly I take to my car, another confined space, and drive around in my car, talking though scenes out loud. Thank God Bluetooth was invented because now nobody thinks I'm a dangerous lunatic if they see me mouthing and gesticulating while driving.
So it was interesting to me, a couple of weeks ago, to read that Nancy Pickard has finally succumbed and rented an office to work in. I've been threatening to do this for years - the actual process of "going to work" and being in a space where I can't be interrupted by husband asking where we put a particular file he needs. I've never gotten around to it although the condo in Arizona was intended to be that kind of space, far from telephone calls and obligations. Now if only I could get John to take up a time-consuming hobby...
So Sister Reds: where do you work at your best?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: You'd think I'd have figured this one out by now. Like you, Rhys, I can't write with what I think of as immediate distractions. No TV, no music. But I can do coffee-shop writing, although I don't do it as often as I used to. That's a different kind of distraction--white noise, really, while at the same time I feel free from household demands; ringing phone, dogs barking, the UPS man, husband wanting to know what's for lunch . . . But I'm basically lazy and I like being home. And I do have a lovely, cozy office (my daughter's old bedroom) redesigned for no purpose other than WRITING, with a lovely BIG desk that I can spread all my stuff out on and my favorite London photos and maps on the walls.
The last couple of years, however, I've developed a sort of seasonal migration technique. I write in my office (upstairs) in the winter. It's warm and if I want to take a thinking break I can curl up on the chaise in the window and watch the bare tops of the trees. But as soon as our back garden turns green in the spring I move down to the sunporch, where I have another Aeron chair and a little rolling laptop table I bought at Office Max for $30. And ten windows, so it's like being in a green sea. And I like being close to the kitchen, which to me always feels like the heart of the house. I suppose in my ideal world, I'd have an office that was next to the kitchen, with windows on the garden and opening onto a screened porch for nice weather, and a woodburning fire for chilly winter days...
But my prime rule is that the writing space can't be used for any other kind of work. No filing or bill-paying or business stuff. Just writing.

RHYS: Me too, Deb. Good rule.

JAN BROGAN: How do you write in the sunporch Debs? Doesn't the glare drive you crazy? I love our sunporch, but haven't figured out how to write there (although I do read and edit hard copy there). Particularly if I'm writing non-fiction, which I am now, I need to be next to my boxes and boxes of files. Even with fiction, I tend to have a lot of research accessories I need. But I would like writing in a coffee shop theoretically (never done it) because it seems so COMPLETELY HIP!

HALLIE EPHRON: The first thing I did when I decided to "be a writer" was set up an office. Fortunately I have a sister who told me: "If you don't take yourself seriously, no one else will."
And step one in taking yourself seriously: set up a space where nothing else takes place but you writing. Mine is a little sun porch. For awhile I wrote in a baseball cap because of the glare; pleated window shades were my first investments in my career.

LUCY BURDETTE: Funny I remember very clearly when I started writing (mid 90's), we had only one computer and it was in the living room. So I had to share that iMac with stepkids and husband, the television and all the other family racket. We finally moved to a new house that had a writing cubby built in it just for me. I keep my junk spread out there, but I still usually write with laptop in bed. (Debs, I think that makes me even lazier than you!) And I would no more share my computer now than my underwear...
DEBS: Lucy, did I say I got dressed?

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Working in my pjs is half the reason I became a writer. I am, in fact, writing this in my pajamas.
RHYS: How primitive, Julia. At least I'm in my robe!

ROSEMARY HARRIS: I love my office - two walls of books and two walls of windows which look down on my garden and a slider that leads to a covered platform fringed with chimes and in the evening candles. Sometimes I put up the mosquito net and work out there because it's away from the computer and the phone. But my absolute favorite place to write is on a plane. There are no distractions. They don't need me to fly the plane or to tell them where the butter is. I can't decide I need to see where the owls are or need to water the plants or check email.
Strangest place I've ever written - on the ferry from Dar es Salaam to Zanzibar.
DEBS: I want Rosemary's office. Jan, I have Roman blinds in my sunporch so just move them up and down according to the time of day and the angle of the sun. But I still want Rosemary's office . . .

JULIA: I have that woodburning fire you want, Deb. In the winter, I've taken to working in my kitchen, next to the wood stove, within easy reach of hot tea. Since my faithful dog and the cats like to congregate there, it's very companionable.
Technically, my office is in the parlour, complete with my reference books, research papers, business-related stuff, etc. However, it gets VERY cold and drafty in the winter, and in the summer, with the kids home from school, it's impossible. Even with the doors shut, everyone barges in and out to share their vital mother-related needs with me. So during the warm-weather months, I often decamp to one of the local university libraries. Quiet, air-conditioned, and there's no chance I'll be lured away from the writing by a load of laundry or a sudden spurt of guilt over the dust in the living room. (It's amazing how tempting housework can be when you're hitting a hard patch in the work, isn't it?)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I love my writing office. It used to be OUR office, Jonathan's and mine, but now I fear it's manifest destiny and it's all mine mine mine. Sometimes Jonathan tiptoes in and asks to use the computer--it's all I can do to keep the flames from shooting out of my mouth.
But it's a lovely lovely tawny-colored room with a fireplace, and floor to ceiling book-and-Emmy shelves, and my desk, which is an antique horseshoe-shaped thing, is tucked into a bay window. Outside is massive and ancient maple tree. Yes, I battle the sun situation in the summer, but I also wear a baseball cap for that one glary hour.
All my stuff is on the desk--the bottle of wine Sue Grafton gave me, and a rock that's carved with "imagine" and "patience" and a feng shui mirror because my back has to be toward the door, and I know that's not good.
I love to write on the Acela train in the quiet car--the landscape zooms by, and it's gorgeous, and peaceful, and it makes me feel like Agatha Christie.

RHYS: I usually get the crying baby in the next seat, or the large guy on the plane whose elbows make it impossible to write! But I also have the feng shui mirror. See pic. Also note Celtic harp for momentary distraction, plus pic of Robert Redford with his shirt open in far left corner!

And it's really cool how different and personal our personal spaces have to be. And aren't we lucky to live in an age when a woman can demand and expect her professional life to be taken seriously!

So, dear readers, any really unusual writing spaces? Anyone write in the bathtub? On mountain tops?

The Inspirational Surround

HALLIE: For Christmas, one of my daughters gave me fingerless gloves. My other daughter gave me flannel slippers with buckwheat/beanbag soles that can be heated in the microwave. My husband gave me a lovely soft, pale gray wool shawl. As I type this, I'm wearing all of them (the things, not the family) and sipping a cup of hot tea in my office, a little room that hangs off the side of our house. In realtor speak: a solarium. Actually it's a winterized sun porch, barely eight by fourteen, with 7 windows all around. I love this light-filled space, and it has the great virtue of smallness,\ so I can't indulge my inner packrat. But when the temperature outside is seven degrees, which it was the other morning, it's COLD in here, and it feels even colder because I like my computer right up agains the window so I can watch the sparrows shivering the bushes as they peer longingly at the frozen birdbath.

Very glamorous, my writing life. So, how glamorous is yours--because it's one of the truths of life that misery loves company.

JAN: How glamorous is my office? Think painted paneling and bulletin boards. Not one bulletin board, mind you, but two because I'm the kind of person who needs visual stimuli pinned up in front of her so not to lose or forget anything. There's also an enormous office-sized printer with mental issues (its paranoid that its paper drawer is open -- sort of like that bad dream that you've gone to work without your shirt on). Lots of wires and storage drives I don't quite understand (my husband comes home with computer periferal extras) a guitar stand with the guitar missing, and a dog bed with my dog, Amber, currently snoring -- or maybe its more like doggie groaning.

The color scheme is beige and brown. Need I say more?

RO: It's a room we added on top of the house so there's a rather skinny set of steps to get up there. High ceilings, skylights, floor to ceiling windows and a slider to a small deck with a platform and pergola. Right now I'm watching a woodpecker nibble on a branch outside my window and I have to stop whatever I'm doing if I hear one of the owls.

My desk is a long slab of wood on top of two iron sewing machine bases. I have a bunch of mix-matched vintage furniture including a china cabinet filled with shells, a rattan sofa covered in barkcloth and a birds eye maple chest. There are books everywhere, a tree in the corner with a pink wrought iron flamingo stuck in the pot, and a telescope for when I need to check out the nighttime sky. One wall is floor to ceiling bookcases - just mysteries and gardening books. Like Jan I have two bulletin boards, filled with everything from my agent's first wonderful email to me (I Love It!) to pix of Bettie Page, Edith Wharton, the Virgin of Guadalupe..the list goes on.

It's a wonder I ever get any work done.

ROBERTA: I have a small nook off the bedroom with an astonishing view. But the part I like best is the slanted wall over my computer and printer--slathered with photos, poems, cartoons, an NYT bestseller list to give me inspiration. Here are a few samples:

1. a cartoon from Byline, one guy is handing another guy a book
and saying "We've started with a small print run. Here's your copy
and I'll keep the other one."
2. a photo of my stepson Andrew with our old dog Poco. The dog
has a sign around his neck saying "Andy is my valentine."
My son has a sign around his neck saying "Poco is my valentine."
I think he was a freshman in high school and we'd gone out to
dinner leaving him home without a date!
3. a list my husband passed on:
free your heart from hatred, free your mind from worries, live
simply, give more, expect less...

HANK: Sometimes my study is so sunny I have to wear my Evita baseball cap (Where the heck did I get that? Don't remember) to be able to see the computer screen. I'm sure I'm quite a sight: ponytail sticking out of the cap, no makeup, a big sweatshirt from the Gap that says Ti(RED) on the back. Sweatpants and those cozy clogs that I can't remember the name of that have tyrolean braid around the edges. Very very glam. Very.

I can see trees and sky out the bay window in front of me, squirrels fighting with the blue jays. A whole wall of books. A wonderful photo on an easel beside--but I can't see the photo anymore because I've covered it with so many signing posters and memorabilia(me at B and N, Borders, other bookstores. The best seller list with my books on it. My special fave is a cash register receipt from the Borders cafe that has "come meet Hank Phillippi Ryan" printed on the bottom).

I'm surrounded by books I might need. Hallie's in case I get stumped. Stephen King On Writing. Strunk and White. Baskets of file folders with notes in them. Again, via Hallie, my "compost" file of newspaper stories. I dig into them when my brian needs fuel, maybe for just a word. My word count chart. My scene and character and timing notebook. A sign that says: Hook. Stakes. Beautiful Writing.

On my desk, behind the monitor,the glittering beribboned bags that people used when they gave me book-deal champagne. In front of the monitor, two engraved little rocks. One says: Patience. The other says: Imagine.

HALLIE: I wonder if that's a universal among writers--that we surround ourselves with words. Our talismans. One of mine is a quote from an all-time favorite children's story from Carl Sandburg's Rootabaga Stories:

And a secret ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps
in your heart
night and day, singing a little song, "Come and find me, come and
find me."

Read the story of "Three Boys With Jugs of Molasses and Secret Ambitions" and have a lovely, inspired day with your very own freckles and secret ambitions.

So, with what talismans do you surround yourself?