Picture it: There are two horses standing in a stream. We’re not sure why; reasoning cloudy. Sitting astride one horse is a woman who doesn’t want to be there. Possibly, she has been whispering into the horse’s ear something like ‘let’s get a move on, sport,’ but to no avail. Said horse seems to like having his tootsies in the cool water. She looks over at the other horse just lollygagging around, and decides that’s the saddle to be in. Several minutes later she is either swept downstream or trampled to death by two horses having had enough of her silliness. Which brings to mind another wise old saw: They died with their boots on. So there I was, soggy boots and all, writing a romance and wanting to jump into the saddle of suspense. My reasoning wasn’t cloudy. I suck at writing pure romance. I didn’t know it then, but I sure know it now. Frankly, If I hadn’t been so stubborn, I’d have changed genres within the first three months instead of waiting so long. I was turning out the most boring drivel I’d ever written in my life and I have been known to drivel with the best. There was no longer any joy in writing. My bliss had done a bunk. Of course, this particular book had a deadline that could not be overlooked. Christmas Trifle was holiday-bound. But at the rate I was going, not in my lifetime. Desperate, I threw in a murder even though I was already half-way through the book. And glory be! Suddenly scenes had a little zing, characters a bounce to their step. They used snappier dialog. A readable plot was developing. So I went with it. Not that it was easy going. It was a nightmare, actually. Stuff like,…
They say timing is everything in publishing a book. So I was advised to hold back on publishing the debut novel of my new series, Christmas Trifle, Book One of the Snow Lake Suspense Novels. That meant it couldn’t see the light of day until September 1, in time for the holidays. The waiting was hard. Not for anybody else, but for me, the author. Once I’ve finished a book and had it read by beta readers then gone through by a content editor and then a line editor, it’s tough to have it just laying around. And lay around it did for nearly a year. But now it’s available for preorder. Readers will finally meet the characters Charly and Cliff Harding, my two wonderful but foolish protagonists, Aunt Pearl the Truthsayer, clever and determined Detective Ragini Chabra and, lastly, Felix and Oscar, two darling pets who manage – when a whole town couldn’t – to get their owners talking to one another. But will Charly and Cliff get back together? Or will they both be arrested for murder and spend the rest of their lives in jail instead of in each other’s arms? For the answer to these and other burning questions, tune in tomorrow…ah…please buy the book! That was shameless, I know. But I’ve waited for nearly a year!!
Marriage Can Be Murder, Book 2 of the Love Can Be Murder Mystery Novellas, debuts on March 17th. While it has nothing to do with St. Patty’s Day, nonetheless I want to cry “faith and begorrah!” These novellas are lighter and shorter than the Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries and showcase the Nick and Nora Charles of Silicon Valley, newly married Lee Alvarez and Gurn Hanson. I had a lot of fun putting these two lovebirds in a story wrapped around Delores De La Vega, an aging celluloid diva who has been married eight times. Whoops! Did I write that? I didn’t mean aging. Scratch that. I meant ageless, of course, ageless. Plastic surgeons take note. In my mind, I tossed around personas the likes of Doris Day, Elizabeth Taylor, and Zsa Zsa Gabor to come up with a woman who is as famous for her looks and multi-marriages as she is for her acting ability and animal activism. And like so many of us, she brings to the table her strengths and weaknesses. In Marriage Can Be Murder we find out about her and the ex-husbands who seem to still adore her. Or do they? Because just who is trying to kill Delores De La Vega? Debuting March 17th for only $1.99.
My Romantic Suspense Mystery is almost done. No more am I writing a pure romance novel. Couldn’t do it. Bad me. After several arduous months, I came to see I am absolutely no good at writing plain romance. I kept going back and forth over relationships, lack thereof, pain and abandonment issues, etc, adding layer upon layer of, frankly, hoo-hah. The more I wrote, the more boring it became. At least, I was bored. However, once I added the mysterious death, the story came to life. Now I see light at the end of the tunnel. I know the villain, the denouement, and the sweet ending. All I have to do now is write it!