Trouble
always comes in threes. At least that’s what Lucky O’Toole, the VP of
Customer Relations for Las Vegas’ primo Strip casino/hotel, the Babylon, has
heard for years from her mother. So, tonight, when Teddie, her former
lover shows up at her office unannounced and very unexpected, her father offers
Teddie a job at the Babylon, she is called to deal with a pig in residence at
one of the hotels most exclusive and opulent suites, and Lucky’s current lover,
Jean-Charles Bouclet stops answering his phone leaving Lucky to handle his
five-year-old son, Lucky figures she has tonight’s compliment of chaos covered.
Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts
Monday, September 1, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
More from Stranger at Sunset's - Eden Baylee
Have you read Eden Baylee's
Latest Release?
Latest Release?
Vacation can be a killer.
Dr. Kate Hampton, a respected psychiatrist, gathers with a group of strangers at her favorite travel spot, Sunset Villa in Jamaica. Included in the mix are friends of the owners, a businessman with dubious credentials, and a couple who won the trip from a TV game show.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Stranger at Sunset.....Eden Baylee stops by to say Hello
An Amazing Interview with Eden Baylee!
We're sitting in lounge chairs, sipping afternoon cocktails while overlooking the Caribbean Sea at our Sunset Villa in Jamaica, the
tropical resort where Eden's latest book, Stranger
at Sunset takes place.
Avid Readers: Tell us a bit about
yourself that our readers might not know.
Eden: Firstly, thank you for hosting
my interview, so lovely of you! The first time we spoke, your readers knew me
as an author of erotica who wrote novellas and short stories. My current book, Stranger at Sunset is different in two
respects. It’s a departure in genre -- a psychological mystery/thriller, and
it’s also a full-length novel.
Avid Readers: As authors, we’re sometimes accused of being several people. How many
personalities live in your mind?
Eden: Ha Ha! Touche! Too many to count some
days. I talk to each of my characters, and I’m a silent observer when they talk
amongst themselves. I make up conversations in my head all the time. It’s how I
come up with most of my dialogue.
Avid Readers: How many plots do you include in one of your books?
Eden: That really depends and is based
on the complexity of the story. With Stranger
at Sunset, there
is one over-riding plotline, which is: How will the owners
of a resort in Jamaica save their business after a scathing review? In addition
to this are secondary plots, which have more to do with how characters will
resolve their differences. In my short stories, there were not enough words to cover more than one central plot, with a minor sub-plot.
Eden: In a
word—Quiet. I usually get up between 7 and 9, take care of social
media/networking/reading blogs/emails before noon. After that, I write, and
that can be writing for guest blogs, my blog, and my upcoming book. Somewhere
in between all this, I find time to eat, meditate, and exercise. I usually go
to bed between midnight and two in the morning.
If I end the
day with at least 2000 good words toward my book, I’m happy. Not very exciting,
but I love it.
Avid Readers: What do you do to relax?
Eden: I love
water. In the summer, I have access to a lake and water sports – swimming,
kayaking, canoeing. I also have a boating license, but I prefer non-motorized
vehicles. I enjoy being alone in the middle
of a still lake. It’s the perfect place to dream
Monday, June 16, 2014
Paranormal lighthouse mystery - Whispers at Ghost Point
Deanna Jewel
Romance Author
Enjoy this week's excerpt from Whispers at Ghost Point:
Goosebumps
covered Dana’s arms just thinking of the ghosts. Had her interest
stirred up more than she ever dreamed of? Had Sarah just been in contact
with it? Dana glanced toward the tower, then pulled one knee up to her
chest, resting her foot on the edge of her chair. She looked into
Sarah’s eyes in search of answers and gripped Sarah’s hand. “What kind of message did you just receive from over there? Your color is gone so...I know you got something!”
Taking another swallow of wine, Sarah gazed back toward the tower and stared for a long time, as though she could see someone in the light tower. Sarah squeezed Dana’s hand. “Can you feel him pull on you at night when you’re here alone?” She turned back and met Dana’s gaze. “Because he does, you know.”
Again, goose bumps covered Dana’s arms even though the warm breeze surrounded them. Dare she tell Sarah about the cold air that envelopes her when she stands in the dark, alone at her window?
She changed her mind and sipped her wine, then attempted to change the subject. “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”
“Are you serious? You know I can do that. I can sense both male and female spirits. It might take me a bit of time to figure out what they want and why, but I know what I know. For some reason, he’s picked you.”
Taking another swallow of wine, Sarah gazed back toward the tower and stared for a long time, as though she could see someone in the light tower. Sarah squeezed Dana’s hand. “Can you feel him pull on you at night when you’re here alone?” She turned back and met Dana’s gaze. “Because he does, you know.”
Again, goose bumps covered Dana’s arms even though the warm breeze surrounded them. Dare she tell Sarah about the cold air that envelopes her when she stands in the dark, alone at her window?
She changed her mind and sipped her wine, then attempted to change the subject. “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”
“Are you serious? You know I can do that. I can sense both male and female spirits. It might take me a bit of time to figure out what they want and why, but I know what I know. For some reason, he’s picked you.”
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Show some love to The Romance Reviews for their 3rd Anniversary!
3rd Anniversary Party!
Head over to The Romance Reviews site to get in on their month long party and prize giveaways. Authors are there showing off new books and you may even find an author new to you. Have fun and good luck to everyone!
Please use the share buttons to tweet and post on your FaceBook page so others can join in on the fun. Thank you!
Please use the share buttons to tweet and post on your FaceBook page so others can join in on the fun. Thank you!
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Monday, May 13, 2013
Meet Award Winning Romance Author, Meg Mims! Contest Alert!
Meg Mims
Romance Author
This week's author is going to take us back in time to attend a banquet at the Ebner Hotel in Sacramento, California 1869 to get us ready for her books, so we hope all of you have dressed for the occasion. If not, step over to our dressing room and find a gown that fits. I know we'll all look fabulous.
At the bottom is Meg's Contest so do leave a comment with your email addy and e-book format to be in. Here's a sample of the gowns and the menu for the ball!
Reader’s Haven: Meg, what a wonderful party! We know everyone will have a great time. *spreading our fans for the gentlemen) Tell us a
bit about yourself...Your gown is beautiful, by the way.
Meg: Thank you! I thought a ball would be fun. I’m an artist in
watercolor, acrylic and pen/ink media. I find it very relaxing!
Reader’s Haven: What made you want
to become a writer?
Meg: When I first started reading the Boxcar Children mysteries, I knew I wanted to write my own stories. I did a lot of reading first - and waited till I was married with a baby to start.
Reader’s Haven: Please share a bit about your new release, Double or Nothing, without giving away any spoilers.
Reader’s Haven: Do you write under a pen name?
Meg: Meg Mims is my pen name. I use “Meg” in memory of my niece who was killed in an automobile accident.
Reader’s Haven: That's a warm gesture and a way to honor her memory. What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Meg: I love a heroine who is independent and intuitive with plenty of courage. I prefer a hero who isn’t totally alpha nor totally beta -- a mix of both is best! Ace is pretty gruff, and comes across as a real mercenary when Lily first meets him, but he has a heart of gold.
Reader’s Haven: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.
Meg: I’m ruled by my dogs! They get me up at 7 a.m., I let them out, feed/water them, then the cat, before my own breakfast and coffee. Then I get busy writing and catching up on mail and social media -- in between all the trips outside/back inside, barking at squirrels or the mailman, trucks, etc. It’s not quiet, that’s for sure. They let me know what they want! Even my poor husband comes second.
Reader’s Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?
Meg: Pretty much solid mysteries. Even the short novellas I’ve written have a touch of intrigue going on, so I guess that’s what I love best. Justice must be served in the end.
Reader’s Haven: How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?
Meg: I used to write a first draft in six months, then edit for a few more. Now I’m trying to get a first draft down in half that time, as long as it’s quality work, and edit for another month. Whew.
Reader’s Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?
Meg: I prefer it, but it doesn’t usually happen! There’s either a cat, a dog or two, or my husband, the TV blaring, the phone ringing... I often put my headphones on and listen to music while I write.
Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?
Meg: The characters usually introduce themselves, LOL. Either in my head, or I get a sense if a certain name is right or not. Lily in the Double series was first Julia, but she really didn’t like that name. Then she became Caroline - nope. Finally Lily seemed to fit. Ace was always Ace due to his poker-playing, and he wouldn’t tell ME his Christian name until Lily asked him.
Reader’s Haven: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?
Meg: Usually I have the character in mind with their traits, and then photos “cement” them into place for deepening their characters. I used the silent screen actress Mary Miles Mintner for Lily, and the 1970s actor Pete Duel for Ace - both had tragic lives, so I felt I was giving them a “fresh” chance to find a happier ending. Here's a blurb for each book:
DOUBLE CROSSING ... August, 1869: Lily Granville is stunned by her
father’s murder. Only one other person knows about a valuable California
gold mine deed — both are now missing. Lily heads west on the newly
opened transcontinental railroad, determined to track the killer. She
soon realizes she is no longer the hunter but the prey. As things
progress from bad to worse, Lily is uncertain who to trust—the
China-bound missionary who wants to marry her, or the wandering Texan
who offers to protect her … for a price. Will Lily survive the journey
and unexpected betrayal?
DOUBLE OR NOTHING ...
October, 1869: Lily Granville finds herself in more trouble when her
guardian announces her engagement to a hand-picked suitor. But she is in
love with Ace Diamond, the Texan renegade who saved her life on the
journey to California — a man her uncle is determined to keep away at
all cost. Ace is just as determined to prove himself worthy of Lily’s
hand, but is framed for murder after a dynamite explosion. Will Lily be
able to save him from the hangman’s noose?
Reader’s Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?
Meg: That always comes first when I have an idea, before the characters. With the Double series, I was inspired by Charles Portis’ True Grit, plus the movies, and the premise of “girl’s father is killed, she decides to track down murderer.” But I twisted it to make Lily a sheltered, wealthy 19-year-old, fairly naive, who travels on the newly opened transcontinental railroad instead of a horse. Ace is Rooster Cogburn and LaBoeuf rolled into one, with his own quirks. In Double or Nothing, California plays a big role, so I researched the setting before deciding on the story’s premise. I'd like to share an excerpt if I may:
1869, California
I jumped at a screeching whistle. Men swarmed over the
distant slope like bees over a wax honeycomb in a mad scramble. “Good heavens.
What is that about?”
Uncle Harrison pulled me out of harm’s way. “They’re
almost ready to begin the process of hydraulic mining,” he said and pulled his
hat down to avoid the hot sun. “You’ll see. This is far better than panning for
gold in a creek bed.”
“I can already see how destructive it is, given the
run-off,” I said, eying the rivulets of dried mud that marked each treeless
incline. “I’ve read about how the farmers can’t irrigate their fields and
orchards due to the gravel and silt filling the rivers—”
Water suddenly gushed from two hydraulic nozzles in a
wide, powerful stream. The men’s bulging arm muscles strained their shirts,
their faces purple with the effort to control the water. I turned my gaze to
the ravaged earth. Mud washed down into the wooden sluices, where other men
worked at various points to spray quicksilver along the wide stretch. Others
worked at a frantic pace to keep the earthy silt moving.
An older man with a grizzled goatee and worn overalls
held out a canteen. “Have a sip while you’re waiting, miss,” he said. “A body
gets mighty thirsty out here.”
“Thank you.”
I sipped the cold, refreshing ginger-flavored liquid
that eased my parched throat. Dirt from the canteen streaked my gloves. Not
that it mattered. At least the spatters of fresh mud wouldn’t show on my black
mourning costume and riding boots. Two days of rain earlier in the week had not
helped.
The kind man offered the canteen to Uncle Harrison, who
brushed it aside with a curt shake of his head. Steaming, I bit back an
apology. The man had already headed back to his position near the sluices.
Bored of watching the ongoing work, I wandered over to
several horses that stood patient in the sun and patted their noses. A tooled
leather saddle sat atop one gelding’s glossy brown hide, and the silver-studded
bridle looked as rich. The horse gave a low whicker in greeting. If only I’d pocketed
a few carrots or sugar lumps from breakfast.
“You’re a beauty. I wish I could ride you for a bit.”
The gelding’s ears dipped forward. One of the men left
the knot of others in a huff. His dusty open coat swung around him as he
stalked, spurs jingling, and closed the distance. He passed by me with a mere
tip of his wide-brimmed hat and untied the reins. The horse pawed the ground,
jittery, as if sensing the man’s foul mood while he mounted. I noted his scowl.
Was he upset that I’d dared touch his property? A scruffy beard and thick black
mustache hid his mouth. He rode off, keeping the gelding’s gait easy, down the
gully toward the Early Bird’s entrance.
“Who was that?” I asked a miner.
The worker wiped sweat from his forehead with a sleeve.
“Señor Alvarez? He’s got a burr under his blanket as usual. Pay him no mind,
miss.”
I rubbed the remaining horse’s flank and glanced around
the mining site. My uncle continued to chat with the foreman close to the shack
near the head of the sluices. Another section of the wooden troughs was raised
from the ground further north at a different bank of earth. My curiosity
increased. I walked to the sluice and stared down at the filth in the bottom.
No glints of gold flecked the bits of rock and slag. I had no idea what
quicksilver looked like either. This whole business seemed crazy, although
Uncle Harrison disagreed.
In the distance, pines smudged the lower half of the
Sierra’s tiny white-capped peaks. To the west, gray clouds threatened the pale
blue sky. No doubt rain would soak everything again by morning. My uncle had
mentioned how winter was wetter here than back home in Chicago, or even St.
Louis. I hadn’t known what to expect for autumn in California. Now that it was
close to October, the stands of golden aspen on a ridge high above sported
various shades of green, gold and hues of orange.
Homesickness overwhelmed me. I longed to see the
brilliant shades of orange, red and yellow oaks, the thick forest of elms and
birches behind my father’s house in Evanston. To ride along the shoreline of
Lake Michigan’s navy waters, and watch the snow falling fast on a chilly
winter’s day. I wouldn’t even mind listening to Adele Mason’s endless chatter
about the latest dinner parties she attended with her many beaus.
It seemed like an eternity since I’d crossed two
thousand miles of prairie and mountains on the Union and Central Pacific
railroad. Donner Lake had resembled a sapphire jewel nestled among pristine
snow fields. Perhaps it was frozen already.
I shivered, remembering the darkness of Summit Tunnel.
It also brought back the delicious memory of feeling safe, nestled in Ace’s
strong arms. Feeling the sudden shock when his tongue sought my own…
“Miss? It’s dangerous standin’ that close to the sluice.
Over yonder is best.”
Guilt flooded my heart. Nodding to the man, I twisted
around and glanced in the direction he indicated. My uncle remained at the
shack. “Will they ever stop talking business?”
“Doubt it.” The miner was the same one who’d offered me
water earlier. He carried a roll of canvas slung over a shoulder. Shrugging, he
swiped his muddy goatee and cheek against his burden’s nubby surface. “Reckon
they’ll yammer on for a while more.”
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
“Sure thing, miss.”
He passed by and handed the canvas to a pair of men.
They unrolled it and laid the fabric inside the wooden sluice. I walked across
the shifting ground, trying to avoid the worst of the mud’s damp patches. One
claimed my uncle’s shoe when we arrived that morning. I fought hard not to
laugh aloud, watching Uncle Harrison hop about on one foot, so comical with his
blustery red face. At last a worker retrieved his shoe, mud up to his elbow,
half his face coated as well. My uncle had not thanked the man for the rescue,
either.
On higher ground, two workers held long snaking hoses
that spurted water at the high bank. Two others sprayed quicksilver over the
sluice. It didn’t look like anything but dirty water. I sighed. This entire
trip had been a waste of time. Uncle Harrison resented the questions I’d
peppered the foreman with and ignored my opinions on how the operation damaged
the countryside. Why had he suggested I tag along in the first place?
I should have stayed back in Sacramento. My sketchbook
drawings needed work. I had yet to finish anything I’d glimpsed during the
journey on the train. Etta had brought all my watercolor supplies from
Evanston, and most of my books too.
But I didn’t want to read or paint. A deep melancholy
robbed me of energy. Nightmares haunted my sleep, of the deep ravine and the
lizard I’d caught, of the sandy slope I climbed on Mt. Diablo, desperate to
escape my father’s killer. Of being trapped, with no way out, and facing death,
and of seeing that shocked surprise… and hearing the gunshot.
Self-defense, as Ace claimed. My uncle and the sheriff
agreed.
Poor Ace. He’d felt bad afterward, forced into a
cowardly deed. I had never shot anything except a badger with Father’s Navy
revolver. Missed, too. But I’d tried to protect my darling pet lizard’s clutch
of eggs in the garden back home. The thought of shooting a human being turned
my stomach. I suppose stabbing someone wasn’t any less of a sin. Heavy guilt
weighed on me. Had it been self-defense? I shuddered at the memory.
As Mother used to say, it was water under the bridge.
Nothing I might say or do now would change the past. But I’d rather avoid
making such a horrible choice again.
Instead I trudged toward the shack. The foreman held a
large piece of blueprint paper between his hands while my uncle pointed at
various sections. Two other men argued with them, their heated words carrying
over the whooshing of hoses and creaks and jolts of skeleton wagons over the
rutted ground. Most of their argument was peppered with technical jargon that
didn’t make any sense. Even Chinese sounded more familiar.
“We haven’t made enough headway,” said a man in a
tailored suit, whose gold watch chain glinted in the sun. “I say we dig out the
ridge all the way.”
“You take that ridge down any more than we have and
we’ll never get equipment to the furthest point of the claim, over here,” my
uncle said and prodded the map. “That was Alvarez’s advice. He knows this land
better than you, Williamson.”
“I agree, it’s too dangerous,” the foreman said.
“I’m the
engineer! Are you implying I don’t know my business?”
“I’m saying it’s stupid to undermine that ridge. You’re
being a stubborn coot.”
“You’re a fine one to call me stubborn—”
Good heavens. I reversed direction and headed back
toward the sluice. They were sure to argue for another few hours. I wanted to
ride that horse, even if it meant hiking my skirts to my knees and baring my
ankles. The poor animal looked like it a good run, or at least a trot over the
rough ground. I had to do something productive or I’d go mad.
Steering around the same boggy patch of mud, I cut close
to the sluice. A blood-curdling yell halted everyone. I whirled to see the
entire bank of earth, a huge avalanche of mud, rocks and two large trees
root-first, rushing straight for me.
Twitter: @MegMims
CONTEST: On Saturday, May 18th, Meg will pick one commenter to win the e-book, Double or Nothing! Leave a comment with your email and e-format you need. Thank you all for stopping in!
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Sunday, December 23, 2012
Meet Mystery Author Karen Hall
Karen Hall
Mystery & Women's Fiction
Single again, I went back to school in Rapid City at the School of Mines. I lived alone for a long time, and when I started talking back to Tom Brokaw when he said, “Goodnight” at the end of the TV news (“See you, Tom. Have a good weekend”), I realized it was time to get back out there again. The next fall I met Jeff in beginning physics class, and he eventually became my third husband. This one took. He is the third, but he’s also my final husband. In 1991, Jeff graduated in mechanical engineering and I graduated in chemical engineering and chemistry, and we moved to Minneapolis/St. Paul. I worked as an environmental engineer in the state’s largest oil refinery for eight years, then started a consulting company with another woman engineer. I wrote the first draft of my novel, Unreasonable Risk, during that time by getting up at 5:30 every morning and writing foran hour before work.
We moved back to Rapid City in 2002, and in addition to writing, since then I’ve been involved in lots of community organizations: politics, community chorus, the photographic society, the Black Hills Writers Group, church choir, and several others. This past year I worked with many others to pass a groundwater protection ordinance governing septic system installation and inspection, and have since been appointed to the county Planning Commission. Life is never dull.
Best of all, we are now grandparents. Our son and daughter-in-law have two girls, Annabelle and Ophelia, and our daughter and her husband have a girl, Hailee, and a boy, Dylan (named after the legendary Bob; the kids have taste). We see them as often as we can and there are, of course, pictures of them on my home page.
Since there are no kids in the house, we’ve adopted cats. Rocky, who has toxoplasmosis (which blinded him), and Junior, cute but dumb as a post, have given us much joy and many laughs, despite the small carcasses of their prey lined up at the back door.
Well, that’s about it. I’m about to turn 63 but still feel like 25. (You all know what I mean.) I’m president of the Black Hills Writers’ Group for a second and final year, and am enjoying that tenure, learning a lot in the process. My big news this year, though, is that the second thriller in the Hannah Morrison environmental mystery series, THROUGH DARK SPACES, is now available both in trade paperback as well as e-book format, and my first novel, UNREASONABLE RISK, will come out soon in trade paperback, too. My third novel, THE STILL HEART OF STONES, women's fiction this time, is about four women who meet as a result of their infertility and become close friends. The first draft is nearly complete, so you may see that one in print or e-book one of these days, too. I’ll keep you posted!
Reader’s Haven: Tell us a bit about yourself that our readers might not know. And Readers, there's a giveaway. Details below!
Karen: I grew up in Fargo,
North Dakota, where you can watch
thunderstorms advance across the wide plains for hours. It was a wonderful place – safe, flat,
windy. I remember the black winter ice
that built up at intersections, lasting from November to March, as frozen
exhaust added its thin layer to those laid down before. We were hardy, wore slacks under our skirts
to school and shed them when we arrived to show our bare legs, even at 20 below
zero. In summer, we swatted mosquitoes
and sweltered in the humid heat, but we also swam for hours in the lakes in Minnesota’s east central
region, fished, water skied and sailed with friends. We cleaned fish and learned how to best
prepare them. I loved my local library,
could hardly wait for school to start in the fall. I guess it was a pretty idyllic childhood.
Reader’s Haven: What made you want to become a writer?
Karen: I
was always a writer. I wrote my first
8-page book, formatted and illustrated, when I was about 8. My mom told me it was titled Old Mister
Sun, but it’s been lost for decades and I have no idea what it was actually
about – except the sun (duh). I tried to
write a novel when I was in my late teens, but hadn’t had enough life
experience to write anything of value to readers (heck, it was barely valuable
to me), so I went on with other life endeavors: marriages (3), careers (nearly
too many to count), and a massive but failed effort to conceive a child. It wasn’t until after the pain of two failed
marriages and failure at conception that I came back to writing.
Reader’s Haven: Please share a bit about your new release (enter book
title) without giving away any spoilers.
Karen: You’d think after that heartfelt confession that my
novels would be full of angst and depth, but they’re really not. Instead, they’re mysteries, thrillers based
on environmental issues I’m concerned with, environmental issues that grew out
of my most recent career, environmental engineering. I’ve learned a LOT about industry in this
country, and while on the whole it’s very responsible, there are things that
have made my eyebrows rise. So I’m
writing about those.
My latest title, Through Dark
Spaces, deals with the hard rock gold mining industry and what can go wrong
when people don’t consider how their actions can affect the environment. Remember the coal mining disasters in West Virginia? The one in South America
that left 28 men trapped underground? A
mine is a perfect place for a thriller.
Add that my protagonist, Hannah Morrison, has trouble with
claustrophobia (don’t we all?), that her high fashion model sister complicates
everything in Hannah’s life (don’t they always?), and that she’s fighting not
just to save her business but her life, and you’ve got the ingredients of a
very personal environmental mystery.
Reader’s Haven: Do you write under a pen name?
Karen: Nope. If I
ever publish the book I’m working on now, though, which is not a mystery, I may
consider it. For now, I write under
“Karen E. Hall.”
Reader’s Haven: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Reader’s Haven: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
Karen: I always prefer female
protagonists. I think they’re more
empathetic, more emotional, that they struggle harder than men do simply
because they don’t have the physical strength to get them out of jams. They must use their wits. Estrogen, I believe, makes for a much more
real heroine than testosterone ever has.
My heroine, Hannah, was a little too perfect in her
first mystery outing, titled Unreasonable Risk. In the second in the
series, I’ve given her more depth, I think, more flaws. She’s still likeable enough, still capable,
but to me she seems a lot more human.
Reader’s Haven: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.
Karen: Ha! Lots of spider
solitaire! No, seriously, I’m a slow
writer. I’m very involved in my
community, so find it very difficult to hole up in front of my computer for
more than a couple hours at a time. I
try to write every day for at least that long, but there are days when I just
can’t do it. And I always have more than
one thing going – if I’m stuck on one and start up the spider solitaire, I
limit myself to a game or two and then move on to a short story or a haiku or a
review of something I’ve just read. If I
find myself unable to proceed with any of my current projects, I pick up
my camera and go for a long walk in the hills.
Reader’s Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they all
different?
Karen: Right now my books are linked by my protagonist’s
profession. She’s a consulting
environmental engineer, and her first two outings have been in oil refining and
in gold mining. Her next adventure will
be in the oil and gas extraction industry, and the book will be set in the
crazy wild west of the Bakken Oil Fields in western North Dakota.
I am also working on a different
type of novel, though, women’s fiction this time, about four women who meet as
a result of their common infertility.
It’s truly the book of my heart, though right now it has some daunting
structural problems. I may have to lose
one of my characters, and the prospect of choosing which one to axe has left me
desolate. It’s either that or face a
manuscript that’s over 200,000 words long.
Reader’s Haven: How long does it take you to write and then edit a
story?
Karen: It takes me a good year to finish a book, and
that’s if the first draft is good. I
usually go through three or four drafts, though I procrastinate because I much
prefer writing to editing, and the last drafts are mostly editing. I think editing uses different parts of the
brain and requires much more discipline.
The engineer side of me loves it, but the creative side – not so
much.
Reader’s Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?
Reader’s Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?
Karen: Yes. And I
prefer quiet, too. No music, no NPR,
much as I love to keep up with Science Friday and All Things Considered. I
do carry a notebook with me always, though, and jot down ideas whenever they
come to me. I’ve actually received dirty
looks in grocery store lines because I’m making notes instead of placing my
items on the conveyor belt. Sometimes
it’s a note about how somebody looks or acts, sometimes it’s about the weather,
and sometimes it’s a plot point that’s chosen that inopportune moment to
surface in my busy head.
Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?
Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?
Karen: It’s always a struggle to find the perfect
name. I do cheat once in a while by
using lists. One of my favorites is a
list of people who lived in a huge nursing home in Moorhead, Minnesota,
when my parents were both there. Those
names remind me of my childhood, and though they’re mostly Scandinavian,
they’re perfect for the generation slightly older than I am.
As an experiment, I did “sell” a
couple of character names in Through Dark Spaces in a charitable
auction. The bidding was spirited and made
quite a bit of money for the organization.
It was hard to change the names of characters I’d grown to know, though,
and I’m not sure I’ll do that again.
Amazingly enough, the people who “bought” those character names all
signed a copy of the book for me. It’s
truly a collector’s copy!
Reader’s Haven: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find
pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?
Karen: Boy, I never know what my characters look like. I’m a strong believer in letting them grow in
the reader’s mind with very little description.
When people ask me which actors and actresses should play my characters
in “the movie,” I’m always at a loss for an answer. Though I do love Claire Danes.
The one exception in Through Dark Spaces is
Hannah’s model sister, Maddie. I
described her more thoroughly than I usually do, principally because her beauty
provokes those pangs of sibling rivalry in Hannah.
Reader’s Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?
1) If the sleuth is an amateur,
the series risks the “Cabot Cove” syndrome, where people die entirely too often
and in too many different ways.
2) If the
sleuth is a private investigator or a law enforcement officer, the characters
new to the series are usually either the victim or the killer.
In order to avoid both of those, I’ve made my
protagonist a consultant who travels from industry to industry. I think the next one, after oil and gas
extraction, will be either the dairy or cosmetics industry. How’s that for variety?
Moving from location to location and industry to
industry causes its own set of problems, of course. Not only does the reader have to learn the
terminology specific to that industry, but she has to absorb a whole new set of
characters, too. It’s one of the reasons
why I play so much spider solitaire.
Contest giveaway: I’ll give away a print copy of Through Dark
Spaces, signed with a personalized note if that’s preferred, to the most
interesting comment.
Web links:
Amazon buy link (trade paperback)
Publisher buy link (trade
paperback)
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