Things That Make You Go "Hum" by Martha Reed

Three years ago I left Florida’s tropical Gulf Coast and returned to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, my city of origin. It was the right thing to do. I’d wrapped up my corporate career, and I loved reconnecting with family and friends daily versus only seeing folks on vacations and special holidays. Everyone assured me that due to global warming Western Pennsylvania’s climate had changed, that the weather’s lake effect had mellowed, and that “We don’t get big snow anymore.”

It’ll be fun, they said. You’ll love it. It’s like living in North Carolina.

And then Snowmageddon hit. 21 inches of snow fell on Pittsburgh in two days. Lucky me. I was here to catch the fourth largest snowfall in the city’s history.

Sidebar for total disclosure: I was also living in Pittsburgh during the Blizzard of 1993 when 24 inches of snow fell in one day. In my defense I was much younger then, and it felt more like a snow day adventure.

Being of a naturally sunny and optimistic disposition – and being retired so that I didn’t need to go anywhere I settled in with my books. I’m delighted to report that I cleared my TBR (To Be Read) stack to the point that once the snowplow did clear the parking lot I needed to visit the library to get something to read.

I picked Margaret Atwood’s latest tome, Book of Lives, A Memoir of Sorts from the Recommended New Releases carrousel. Her memoir is a fat stack and meant to be savored. Being in no hurry I slowed my usual reading pace and uncovered some surprising parallels and perspectives between our two completely different writing lives. She stopped me with this quote:

“There’s a set of emotions familiar to anyone who has been the victim of a con artist. First, anger at the perpetrators. Why have they been so mean? But also anger at oneself: Why have you been so stupid? You ought to have figured it out sooner. Also again: Being conned has been a violation of your trust, and trust is a thing you will never extend so easily again. You will be endlessly wondering about hidden motives and stories: the ones you’re being told, and the other one.

“You might become a detective. You might become a con artist yourself. Or, a blend of the two: you might become a novelist.”

Margaret Atwood, Book of Lives, A Memoir of Sorts.

Now pause for a moment and give her quote some thought. Why did you become a writer? When did you know that’s what you wanted to be? Why did you choose the crime fiction/mystery genre? And did anyone else influence or guide you to make this choice and follow this life path?