8/4 Sherry Harris, A Time to Swill
8/11 Authors of The Fish That Got Away
8/18 Authors of Mutt Murders
8/25 Alyssa Maxwell, Murder at Wakehurst
8/21 Nancy Nau Sullivan
WWK Special Blogger
8/7 V. M. Burns-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, January 31, 2016
The summer after my senior year of college, I spent eight weeks in a copy editing internship for Newsday on Long Island, New York. At the end of the summer, my colleagues asked what kind of going away party I’d like to have. They offered suggestions from the ridiculous (the managing editor in a tutu singing my alma mater’s fight song) to the ridiculously indulgent (chocolate and champagne). I chose the second, and oh my, that party was the most lavish, rich, and decadent of my life: Bottles of champagne and chocolate everything: Chocolate-covered potato chips, a solid foot-long chocolate ruler, chocolate-covered fruit, chocolate cups filled with chocolate liqueur.
Maybe it’s the champagne talking, but I loved the news business with a passion that day, and I still love it, though my career took a sharp, voluntary turn away from the newsroom many years ago.
That celebration, though, and the way it made me feel—valued, part of something big and important, tipsy—stuck with me.
So it was bittersweet this week to raise a glass of bubbly to toast the publication of a short story that has roots in my journalism past.
In recent years, almost everyone I know in the journalism world has been laid off or threatened with layoffs. Newsroom staffs dwindled to nothing. Newspapers began outsourcing everything, including copy editing, my old job. Two years ago, our local paper outsourced printing to another nearby, larger newspaper, and all of my friends who worked with the presses and in the mailroom lost their jobs.
That’s when I began writing “Abundance of Patience,” a short story loosely inspired by layoffs in the news industry and published in the March 2016 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine.
The bowl’s nowhere close to full yet, but I added cork number four this week and, in a toned-down echo of that party in New York, celebrated my new publication and my longstanding admiration for newspapers and news people.
Sweet chocolate tempered with the bite of champagne.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
|Front: Linda, Ann, Carol. Back: Sue, Jean, Me|
|Her latest book|
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
|Terrie Farley Moran|
Are there different levels of participation when you write “with” another writer?
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
1. Before I became a full-time mystery writer, I worked as a high school English teacher, a newspaper editor back in my tiny Southern hometown, a freshman composition instructor, and a professional Girl Scout. So believe me when I say that I understand homicidal tendencies.
2. I am also a tarot reader, although no longer professionally. I still enjoy reading for friends and family, however, and also for myself. And my characters. Boy, do my characters need guidance.
|Book Five! Coming in April!|
3. I currently write the Tai Randolph/Trey Seaver mysteries with Poisoned Pen Press (that's the cover to the next book in the series over there to the right). Tai runs a Kennesaw, Georgia, gun shop that caters to Civil War reenactors. Trey is a former SWAT sniper recovering from a TBI (a Traumatic Brain Injury). They are partners in both crime solving and romance, and as such, definitely need those tarot readings.
|Haunted Savannah Streetlight|
5. I have, however, seen a UFO.
|Baboons! How sweet, you say. Ha.|
7. I am an advanced open water scuba diver (wreck diving being my favorite, although my favorite dive of all time was a shark dive in the Bahamas. The baboons were scarier than those sharks.)
8. My redneck credentials are firmly established. I can shoot a shotgun, bake hoecake, catch a catfish with my bare hands, and drive a stick shift. I own chickens and overalls and cast iron skillets, and the Southern storytelling gene runs strong through my DNA. Even the pots and pans in my house have stories.
|George getting ready to meet me|
10. I once almost ran over Clint Eastwood. True story. His bodyguard probably still talks about that crazy redneck lady.
And that's me in a nutshell. Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Why don't you share something about yourself in the comments so that I can get to know you better? And thanks for stopping by!