Culling My Life--or at least some Old Books...

 Ovidia--every other Tuesday

These were some of my 'best friends' when growing up--

In the old days before ebooks and library access (back then I only got to go to the national library on Stamford Road during the school holidays. The rest of the year there were only the two Primary School Library bookshelves and the Sunday School library... offerings were kind of limited).

The good thing about having only a few books is that reading and re-reading them got me knowing them almost by heart. 

Other favourites were The Diary of Anne Frank, The Bell Jar and Heidi, and J.D. Salinger's stories about the Glass family (much more so than The Catcher in the Rye), which became my fantasy family.

But it was this book (though I didn't love Nancy Drew as much as I did Tarzan or the Hardy Boys) that gave me my first reading/writing wake-up moment:

I didn't notice the hidden racism people talk about these days because it seemed normal that all the people in English books were white just like all the people in Chinese books were Chinese. But in Nancy Drew's Mystery of the Fire Dragon, I met Song Chi Che (Or Chi Che Song as she's called in the book), a gutsy Chinese girl who's kidnapped and rescued and survives (with the help of Nancy and George--who was another favourite). 

That's pretty much all I remember about the story--that Chi Che, a Chinese girl like me, could have adventures in stories that didn't end in a morality reminder to respect your parents/ eat every grain of rice on your plate/ not litter on the street.

After that I wrote some comic stories featuring Chi Che which have (fortunately) been lost.

Triggered by the renovations, I've been trying to cull my books. Not only because of the space crunch but because it made me realise how long it's been since I've picked up (let alone read through) some of these books.

These days I'm reading more on Kindle and Kobo than on paper. I'll always love physical books but it's often easier to increase the font on an e-reader than find my reading glasses. Plus I can mark pages, highlight passages and scribble notes to myself without feeling like a vandal.

But even if I'm okay buying ebooks, what about all my old books? Like all our old Calvin and Hobbes--

I loved these comics so much. Not just for Bill Watterson's brilliant depiction of the fantasy/real Hobbes but maybe even more for the family around Calvin that loved and supported without fully understanding him.

Calvin's parents would say, in logical, rational and practical terms, that I should only keep books that I intend to re-read, right? 

Besides, given I now have access to more books than I'll have time to read, it's time to let some the old ones go, right? 

I looked up several places to donate books to, though it's so sad that most of my beloved second hand bookshops are gone.

Mine aren't books that would be worth anything to anyone else.
But it feels wrong to give away books that feel more like close childhood friends/ teen buddies (Sylvia Plath, Joe Orton, JD Salinger) or respected elders (Agatha Christie, Nancy Mitford, MFK Fisher, Lawrence Block) who shaped what I am today even if we no longer spend as much time together.

I'll be keeping my Agatha Christies and Rex Stouts--even though I now have e-copies of most of these books. 

Unlike many other homes, we don't have an ancestral shrine here, so this bookshelf might serve the same purpose. A place that reminds us of who we are and where we come from and who we will always be grateful to.

I remember discovering and devouring Ovid's Metamorphosis--I found a copy (plastic bound--no browsing) in the MPH bookshop and insisted on getting it as that year's 'good results' book.

My mum said no. She told me it was a 'bad' book without being able to explain why. I realise now that she (incidentally also named 'Ovidia') must have been told Ovid wrote Ars Amatoria--a 'bad' book and--unlike me--accepted that.

I got my way on the condition I never brought it to school and never told anyone I had it. Yes, I'm telling you now, but my mother's passed on and won't read this.

And I really loved it The Metamorphosis. It's pretty much a run through of most of the stories in Roman Mythology with 'Amor' / Cupid wisely/ wittily/ naughtily triumphing over all the other Roman gods. I still have the fraying, falling apart, scotch-taped copy I got then. It's almost impossible to read (print too small, eyes too old) but that book's become a sentimental object for me-- I admit that even as I know that's Not what a book should be.

I know it's not just about letting go of that or any other copy of a physical book (thought would be a big step for me) but needing to figure out what 'writing books' or even 'reading' means to me in our digital age.

I'm not giving up on books--Amazon birthday vouchers are being Very carefully assessed and assigned--but what about the physical books I already have?

In some cases, even though I own ebook copies, I'm keeping my hardcover copies of Larousse Gastronomique and Tools of Titans because they are browsing friendly. Likewise all my Sherlock Holmes and Nero Wolfes... these work for me more like tarot cards. I don't think I'll ever sit down and read them cover to cover, but like tarot cards or how (some) people read the Bible, I can flip through the pages, let them fall open at random and know them well enough to read any passage or page in context. They are like old family photos for me.

But what about books that I read, learned from, respect and am in awe of but don't love?

(Okay, writing this makes me realise Haruki Murakami's probably going to stay)

Balanced with those I respect less but love more--

--even though I'm likely never going to cook out of these books I've created and enjoyed so many experiences while in their pages.

I've already packed up, given away/ donated four huge bags of books... (though there's no guarantee I won't head down to the charity store and buy them back next week!) as I realise this isn't just a shelf space issue.

It's so difficult because it's about trying to figure out why we write and what we want our writing to do and be. And how we can make that happen. Once upon a time it was all about holding a published book in your hand, feeling and weight and reality of it. If you wanted to share your life/story/soul with someone, you handed them a copy of your book.

But going even further back than books, it was all about telling stories, writing letters and recording journals in cipher. 

It was about serial stories in penny weekly magazines and storytellers entertaining homesick labourers with stories of home and dreams of happy futures and players enacting ghost month dramas to entertain spirits and their human descendants.

That's our lineage. We are still the music makers, we're still called to wake people to be 'the dreamers of dreams'. We just need to figure out what form we work in next. After all, we're descended from the inventors and adopters of the printing press (as well as those who feared not copying out scrolls or carving out tablets by hand signalled the downfall of humankind).

But how? Every generation's tried to answer this for themselves--another reason I've always loved reading letters and diaries.

(just a few more books I won't be giving away!)

And we will too!

Piano Therapy

Annamaria on Monday

"These are the times that try men's souls" comes to mind.  The other beginning that comes to me is the laundry list of the distressing events happening all around our sacred planet these days.  But my mission today is to change your mood.  To convince you to shut off the news.  To turn away from the conversations about all the bad stuff.  My weapon is one of the finest inventions of humankind: the piano.

It will take something like half an hour to make yourself feel better. Sit in a comfortable chair or lie down in a comfortable place.  Herewith, except for the electronic gizmo within reach, is everything you need to feel better.

Take a deep breath, close your eyes and focus 100% of your attention.  And listen, really LISTEN, to this:

Lovely.

Now let your mind wander, while you follow the great George Shearing down your favorite beautiful path in nature:

Nice, huh?

Now (I hope), you are ready to wake up to some delightful positive energy from a piano man par excellence.  And with him the incomparable Milt Jackson!

There now!  Piano therapy.  It works!

I don't know about you, but I am going to keep this therapeutic music handy.  It would be nicer if we didn't need it so much.  But along with the n'ere-do-wells who are hogging all the air time, I assure you that our species creates tons more beauty than it does horror shows.  They just don't put the beautiful stuff on the nightly news.

Let's keep sharing the good stuff, shall we?

Guest Post: Coping with the Curse of Proofreading by Kim Hays

Kim Hays' Swiss detectives  Giuliana Linder and Renzo Donatelli are back with a new mystery set in Bern. In the new book, A Fondness for Truth, a woman, Andi, is killed in a hit-and-run while riding her bicycle home on an icy winter night. Her devastated partner is convinced the death was no accident. Andi had been receiving homophobic hate mail for several years, and the letters grew uglier after the couple’s baby was born.

As both detectives dig into Andi’s life, one thing becomes clear: Andi’s friends and family may have loved her for her honesty, but her outspoken integrity threatened others, including, perhaps, her killer. 

Kim Hays is a citizen of Switzerland and the United States who has made her home in Bern for thirty-six years. Before that, she lived in San Juan, Vancouver, and Stockholm, as well as around the US. Pesticide, the first book in her Polizei Bern series was published by Seventh Street Books in 2022 and was a finalist for the Crime Writers’ Association Debut Dagger Award and the Falchion Award for Best Mystery. The second book in the series, Sons and Brothers, came out in last year, and A Fondness for Truth was released this month.

In today's guest blog, Kim offers a solution, or at least an aid, to one of the most trying jobs in writing...

Any fluent English speaker who lives where English isn’t spoken knows the pattern. A friend—sometimes a superficial acquaintance—approaches you at a party or phones you out of the blue and says, “I’ve written a letter/business proposal/academic article in English. It’s finished, and I’m sure it’s in great shape, but could you give it a quick look to check the commas and fix any typos? I can email it to you right away. Okay?”  “Sure,” you say with a sinking heart, resigning yourself to hard work and indecision. The writing will probably be full of mistakes, not just in spelling and punctuation but in clarity; there will be sentences so convoluted that you’ll struggle to understand what they mean. How much correcting are you obliged to do, knowing that comments in the margins like “This paragraph doesn’t make sense. What are you trying to say?” will offend the writer and probably generate a defensive conversation?

It was to help these non-native speakers whose studies or professions demand that they write complicated texts in English that “Grammarly” was invented. First released in 2009 by three Ukrainians and now used by over thirty million people, the software application edits any piece of writing on your screen that you let it read and suggests grammar, spelling, and punctuation changes. It also corrects for increased clarity and what it calls “engagement” (using more lively words and phrases) and “delivery” (removing qualifiers and making your writing more authoritative.)

Within a few years of its release, the app wasn’t only being used by the foreign speakers it was created for but also by us native English speakers. There’s a free version with a limited correction service; there’s also one for 144 euros ($155) a year that offers the whole package. Just before I hunkered down to proof the final manuscript of A Fondness for Truth, the third book in my Polizei Bern series, I bought it.

Like everyone who has taught English as a foreign language to high school students and adults, I’ve had to answer many questions about English grammar. My copies of Oxford University Press’s Practical English Usage and the Oxford Guide to English Grammar are dog-eared with use. The idea that I needed an app to correct my English began to dawn on me when I received the copyedited version of Sons and Brothers, my second manuscript, back from my publisher. I opened the file to see if I agreed with the countless corrections the press’s copyeditor had made and found—pristine pages! Some red typeface was scattered in the first few chapters; after that, the corrections and suggestions dwindled to almost nothing!

Far from rejoicing, I was horrified. The book had a schedule, and there was no time to send it back and ask for a more diligent copyeditor, so I would have to be that person. What followed were endless readings and re-readings of the copyedited manuscript and later its page proofs by me and three ever-to-be-praised friends who pitched in to help. We caught plenty of spelling, grammar, and clarity mistakes, not to mention missing and repeated words.

Did I buy Grammarly at that point to help us cope? Sadly, no. But about a week before I had to send in my most recent MS for final approval and copyediting, I remembered the panic of the previous year and had an epiphany. In case of another copywriting disaster, I’d buy Grammarly and be forearmed. As it turned out, there was a new person on the job, and she did much better work. Nevertheless, I was grateful to have used Grammarly, as well.

Screenshot showing how it works

The app’s detractors complain about its mistakes, and I’d agree that perhaps 10% of its suggested corrections are wrong—either because it doesn’t appreciate my deliberately chosen word order or misinterprets what I’ve written. When Grammarly suggests a nonsensical correction, I double-check to make sure the mistake isn’t mine and then dismiss it without incorporating it. This is no big deal—it still leaves the app with a 90% success rate of catching genuine errors.

Another criticism of Grammarly is that it “reduces writers’ freedom of expression.” I laughed when I read that. I’m the writer. If a piece of software suggests replacing my words with a phrase or a sentence to make my writing clearer or punchier, and I don’t like it, I don’t use it. If I like it, I take it up and am grateful for a helpful editing suggestion, as any writer is.

I would never dismiss authors’ fears of AI out of hand. But Grammarly reminds me that helpful suggestions from a machine can be terrific—as long as they remain only suggestions.

If any of you use this app or others like it, let me know what you think.

What is Ailing Mykonos?

 

Jeff–Saturday

 

A half-dozen years ago I wrote a blog titled, “An Open Letter to Mykonians” expressing my concern over the direction I perceived my adopted island home was headed. By then I’d written a trilogy of books set on Mykonos, each separated by five years from the other.  One covered the spirit of old Mykonos, another Mykonos on the verge of existential change, and a third after “the Fall.”

 

By the time I wrote that post, Mykonos had become a summertime island of 24/7 glitz, with its physical past rapidly disappearing amid a relentless onslaught of construction vehicles, and a cultural past all but abandoned to an agenda of offering greater pleasures in the unrestrained pursuit of greater profits.

 

The island was fast becoming a place without order. Yet, based upon a deep civic pride that long had united Mykonians in common cause when needed to protect their island, I’d hoped that bedrock dedication to their island’s spiritual core might somehow prompt them to address its new challenges.

 

Every core, though, needs a compass to remain firmly on course, and recent intoxicating times had rocked Mykonos off center. The island was now steered by external forces driving an essentially captive community in directions most islanders neither fully appreciated nor understood.  Mykonians had welcomed the mesmerizing benefits, while largely ignoring or feeling helpless to battle the drawbacks rapidly erasing its old ways and values.

 

Mykonos is no longer what it once was. In many ways that’s good for the Mykonians.  But in other ways it’s not. It has become the most celebrated tourist draw for the legendary Greek Summer Island Experience. It’s also become a target of deep criticism for the media.

 

This past week an article by Ilias Bellos appeared in “Ekathimerini” (Greece’s paper of record) titled, “Mykonos falls victim to its own success,” citing statistics supporting a dramatic falloff in airplane seat bookings to the island, compared to a significant rise in those same statistics for Greece as a whole.

 

Here's what Mr. Bellos, has to say about what that all means. It’s an analysis that should not surprise any Mykonian, except insofar as to underscore how their treasured past and descendants’ future is being sacrificed to the present. 

 

So, what is ailing Mykonos? Is it the overtourism, high prices, inadequate infrastructure and rising crime that come as a result of resounding success at so many international destinations?

“Mykonos has clearly been in a correction phase since last year, resulting from the extremely demanding pricing policies of all of the tourism businesses on the island, as well as from defamation by visitors and the inevitable mistakes,” a hotelier with a significant number of units at this and other summer destinations told Kathimerini on condition of anonymity.

“When the magnifying glass of social media is on you for all the right reasons, it will also draw an equal amount of attention, if not more, to the bad things,” said another businessman who works on the island.

Both are, nevertheless, optimistic that this year’s performance will not be as bad as the data so far indicate, but also that a self-correction in the private sector will lead to a rebound.

Many more believe that the Mykonos brand is too strong to fail and can ride out what may be nothing more than a short-lived crisis. Where is the negative sentiment coming from, though? It is the result of a combination of factors. In one case, for example, global influencer Gigi Hadid was burgled while holidaying on the island in 2019 and advised her millions of followers not to travel to the Greek island.

Inadequate infrastructure is another issue, as many holidaymakers have witnessed in previous years when the island’s waste management system overflowed. Crime, particularly robberies, is another problem that has been mentioned as contributing to Mykonos’ declining allure.

On the upside, satisfaction with Mykonos’ hotel infrastructure remains among the highest in the Mediterranean, according to INSETE’s findings.

Negative publicity and a drop in demand for traveling to the island is, therefore, also interpreted as a reproof for the services offered beyond the hotels, such as at certain beach bars and restaurants or stores. “One bad apple can spoil the entire barrel,” said one top-league Greek hotelier who believes Mykonos is suffering from a reputation problem.

Others think the dip is the inevitable result of overtourism and high prices. “The phenomenon is not endemic to Mykonos. We have seen the same thing happen at other famous destinations, such as Spain’s Ibiza, for example,” said another hotelier on the island who, like the others, spoke to Kathimerini on condition of anonymity.

“A handful of businesspeople, restaurateurs and beach club managers did not pay as much attention as they should have to the standards of the services they offer and focused only on making as much money as possible,” the same hotelier said, adding that “in today’s world, it is only a matter of seconds before every oversight and incident is made known across the world because of social media.”

Outrageously high bills, nontransparent pricing policies, poor service and security matters are among the problems that get a lot of publicity on social media platforms.

“Like other destinations before it, Mykonos has fallen victim to its success, though temporarily,” a local businessman argued, arguing that the arrival of the super-rich set on the island brought its followers, but also criminal elements. Pickpockets, thieves slipping expensive watches off people’s wrists as they stroll around packed Matogianni Street or party at a nightclub, but also robbers, who break into people’s rooms and villas to grab what they can regardless of whether the tenant is in, and serious drug rackets are the most frequent subject of complaints about rising crime on the island.

This is also attributed to the lack of policing, which became widely apparent last year and prompted law enforcement authorities to dispatch a special unit to Mykonos.

The initiative, however, was geared more toward protecting state workers from violence than cracking down on crime more generally.

“Mykonos is a victim of defamation but it will bounce back stronger because the businesspeople on this island are serious professionals who have successfully diagnosed the problem and are doing what is necessary to make it right,” an economist specializing in tourism told Kathimerini. “Self-corrective initiatives are already under way and the serious professionals and healthy businesses are exerting pressure on those who fail to understand what needs to be done.”

This optimism for Mykonos’ future is shared by many Greek and foreign investment funds and luxury hotel management firms which are in the process of carrying out major investments, worth hundreds of millions of euros, in new comprehensive tourism complexes.

For others, overdevelopment and burgeoning construction are a key part of the problem.

Either way, no one can deny that the idealized image of Mykonos with its sugar-cube houses, picturesque windmills and colorful fishing boats bobbing on the sparkling blue waters is at risk of being lost in the throngs of visitors who descend on the island each year.

What’s more, many of these visitors are day-tourists who contribute almost nothing to the tourism economy’s turnover.

According to sources, efforts are indeed under way to set a cap on the number of cruise ships and cruise passengers stopping at Mykonos.

We shall see what we shall see.  Or not.

 

–Jeff

 

Jeff’s Upcoming Events

 

CrimeFest, Bristol UK

 

Panel THURSDAY, MAY 9, 2024 @ 17:00

“Overstepping the Mark: Abuses of Privilege and Power” with

Ajay Chowdhury, Alex North, Kate Ellis, Jeffrey Siger, Sam Holland (Moderator) 

 

Panel FRIDAY, 10 MAY 10 @ 17:10

“What a Thrill: Page-Turners and Cliff Hangers” with
Chris Curran, Antony Dunford, Charles Harris, Christine Poulson, Jeffrey Siger (Moderator)

 

The Forensics of Pooh; the truth is in there.

Good mobility is essential to good motility. I.e. keep walking for a healthy bowel.

That's just a clumsy way of explaining why these pictures are on a blog that has nothing to do with them.

They are of a walk I took at ten o'clock on the morning of the 18th of April. The weather forecasters say that we are going to have 28 days of rain in April so I took the opperchancity of stealing this dryish thirty minutes to take some snaps.

Spring in Scotland. It's rather soggy.

 Compared to what is going on elsewhere in the world, we are fortunate.

So here is the blog. Any pictures of the subject of the actual blog might be ....unpalatable.

 

A very clever chappie called Lawrence David has been studying the human microbiome. He was chatting one day to an ecologist who was studying diets of large African herbivores by looking at their pooh. As well as having tons of excreta at his fingertips so to speak, the ecologist also had a huge amount of  precise and well researched data/ statistics. The precision of the results of his research made David rather envious. How did the ecologist get that degree of data without watching everything the animals ate?

By examining their pooh obviously. Or to be more specific, by sequencing the DNA of matter present in the ‘animal scat’ picked up from the savanna.

Could that work with humans?

There has been a few murders solved by examining the DNA in the pooh of pigs suspected of consuming the body of a victim but this research is talking about the DNA in pooh for the welfare of the live owner.

The MIE bloggers, as they read this, might have all sorts gurgling through their intestines (Is that the first time that sentence has been written in a blog?)

I think that three of us, maybe four, will have the DNA of plant materials only, maybe a dozen or so plants at any given time. Others might have the DNA of the various animals they have consumed during the past 24 hours. While the average John will have the DNA of around 12 species of plant, some hugely healthy vegivores may have up to forty types of DNA meandering through the gut.

The analysis of DNA in human faeces seems an obvious way to get some traction on the links between diet and health, digestion and digestives issues like IBS.

With the exception of vitamins, minerals and salts, everything we eat comes from something that once lived, and things that live all have genomes with coded DNA, and the majority of that DNA goes undigested.

From looking at the sequencing of the DNA in the output, then analysing that for patterns, the pattern will suggests the diet. The diet and the patient can then be connected to look at obesity, mal absorption syndromes, gastric irritability etc. Or the absence thereof.

Are some diets, the DNA of the diet and the DNA of the person interwoven in some way that could predict malignancy of the colon, Crohn’s disease, ulcerative colitis? The ability to lose weight or not? The ability to gain it?

Like the ability to taste coriander or to smell cyanide or to look good in a kilt,  are food allergies and intolerances DNA linked.

It has to be pointed out that mixed within the tissue being examined are the DNA of the gut cells and a massive amount belonging to the bacteria that hang around inside us, helping us to digest our lunch.

It’s often said that forensics don’t lie. And that’s true, but the way forensic evidence is interpreted is always open to interpretation. At the end of the working day, there will be trace elements of  skin cells of  15-20 of my patients somewhere about my person. That doesn’t mean I killed them, it means I treated them. If they are found dead at the bottom of somebody’s garden with my DNA on the skin of their neck… I treated them for a neck issue.

Honestly!

Patients do lie. They do it all the time. All physicians ask the same question more than once, often the other way round. ‘Did you do anything to hurt your back yesterday?’  ‘Oh no, had a nice day, relaxing.’

 Then two minutes later ask, ‘So were you busy at the weekend.’  ‘Oh yes, I cut the grass.’

They don’t mean to lie, they just do. They are often trying to be helpful, or just forget.  Smoking, drinking, how much exercise, what they eat, what they don’t eat. Are they sticking to their diet? Celiacs having a wee bit of toast?

David makes the good point that those patients most at risk from failure of nutrition- the very young, the very old, the very ill, those with cognitive issues - are the ones who cannot keep an accurate food diary. And DNA analysis of their pooh can help to rebalance any issues prescriptively.

It dawned on me while writing this that all this – the collection of pooh -  is normal to me, and to most Scottish people. I’m not sure about England. We have to do a pooh test every two years once over the age of 50.

A wee pack arrives at the house. You collect your pooh BEFORE it hits the water ( can I just point out that you do need half decent spinal mechanics for this- or a very close friend  - or cling film ), then you take a sample with the wee spoon provided, smear that onto the first sample pad and seal it and date it. Then 48 hours later you do all that again and then poop, sorry, pop it in the post.

The samples are then analysed for blood and evidence of any malignancies. Then a report comes back to you, calling you in for retest, or saying you have the all clear.

So basically, your pooh can say a lot about you.

Caro

 

Left Coast Crime: Seattle Shakedown!

Wendall -- every other Thursday

Since I’m the only representative of Murder is Everywhere who can report on the Left Coast Crime Convention first hand, I figured I should. 

 

Left Coast Crime ran April 11-14

 

The annual convention is always my favorite, because it feels, at least to me, more intimate and friendly than Bouchercon, and I’m able to connect with both readers and author friends more fully than I do elsewhere. This year, the convention took place in the Bellevue suburb of Seattle at the Hyatt Regency Hotel, which turned out to be a great, easy venue, where you could actually get food and drink when you wanted it. . . 

 

So wonderful, always, to get to hang out with Grace Koshida, next year's LCC Fan Guest of Honor!

 

Always so great to see author and filmmaker Danna Dennis Wilberg

With the ever fab Tim Maleeny

 

Our totally transcendant Toastmaster was the great Wanda Morris.

 

Wanda Morris on the left, being interviewed by Lefty Winner Tracy Clark

 

Author Guests of Honor Robert Dugoni and Megan Abbott joined Fan Guest of Honor Fran Fuller, and Ghost of Honor, John Okada. All of the living guests were as open and lovely as they could have possibly been, and I’m grateful to the convention for introducing me to John Okada’s work.

 

I never take enough pictures, but happily others do and are willing to share, so here’s the rundown of the week.

 

James and I flew out of Burbank airport early Wednesday morning and were met by my sister, Kim and her husband Ray, who took us out for a day at and around Pike Place Market. It was just as great as promised. James and I shared (thank God!) one order of biscuits, gravy, cheese, chorizo, and jalapeño while sitting by the water, and had fish and chips later, with a different stunning view. 

 

Some tourist destinations totally live up to their hype.

Biscuit Bitch extravaganza!

Perfect place for biscuits

Fantastic magic store downstairs

Bodies hanging everywhere

We were too early for anyone to throw fish at us, but James still snagged a few salmon samples. You can read about the market here: https://www.pikeplacemarket.org/

 

We got to the hotel around 4pm and, once we unpacked, I was able to meet my dear friend Baron Birtcher’s wife for the first time and join the two of them for a few martinis(!). We got to talk to various other writers who showed up on and off through the night. 

 

Matt Coyle with lobby backdrop

The martinis precluded my staying for all of the Noir at the Bar readings, including selections from friends like Matt Coyle and Terry Shames.  But by all accounts, everyone was fab, even in the corner of a bright, echoing lobby, which made it a bit more like LED at the bar.

 

For the last six years, Matt Coyle and I have partnered up as the “Screwball and Screwed Up” speed dating team, but this year we were wait-listed. We missed the stress, of course, but made up for it by having an Author Connection breakfast with a few readers. We loved meeting and talking with them.

 

Matt and I had breakfast with Marisa and she was kind enough to come to my panel

Thursday was full of interesting panels, including “Hot, Hot, Hot: Mysteries Set in Tropical Locations” where pals Baron and Leslie Karst joined Eric Redmond and Rosalie Spearman to talk about their experiences in, and writing about, Hawaii. I also loved “The Secret Habits of Writers: Routines, Superstitions, and Lucky Pens” where moderator Glen Eric Hamilton did a masterful job of getting trade secrets out of Megan Abbott, Lisa Lutz, and Wanda Morris.

 

Megan admits to having a specific time she starts writing every morning

 

Wanda, of course, was responsible for one of the highlights of the conference—Toastmaster’s Dance Night. It had been many years (too many!) since I’d done a Soul Train line and those of us who braved the floor had a blast. Thanks for such a great idea, Wanda! Happy to be too old to be embarrassed about this photo.

The whole Soul Train thing was a blur!

Friday was a bit busy. Both James and I had panels in the morning, me on the “Lefty Best Humorous Mystery Nominees” panel and him on the “Every Story is a Mystery” panel. 

 

With Jennifer Chow, Leslie Karst, Lee Matthew Goldberg, and Lucinda Surber

James explains how true crimes are still mysteries

After that, we had lunch with a few friends and then disappeared to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary on the lowdown. That night, we went out to a lovely French restaurant not too far from the hotel and had a stroll around Bellevue on the way back. I’m obsessed with this octopus statue, as you can tell.

 

 

Saturday we had breakfast with members of the Short Mystery Fiction Society, hit a few panels and then were whisked away by one of James’s oldest English friends for a “surprise.” It turned out to be brunch at the Salish Lodge, which stood in for the Great Northern Hotel exteriors in Twin Peaks, with a view during lunch of the waterfall and river made famous by dead Laura Palmer.

 

James's elbow and the Twin Peaks falls

Tourists still come to this viewing point

We rushed back to put together all the ridiculous animals items for our Author Hosted table. 

Animals, animals everywhere

 

Our wonderful guests

We had wonderful—and game—guests and a lot of laughs, the biggest of which was Cheap Trills winning the Lefty for Best Humorous Mystery. 

 

Note missing earring!

 

Amazing, hand carved award, filled with 300 ball bearings. . .

I still can’t believe it, and am so grateful to the conference and everyone who voted. Although I carried my napkin to the stage, lost an earring on the way, and half sobbed through most of my speech, at least I didn’t trip. I think Cyd Redondo would be proud. Other winners included Naomi Hirahara for Evergreen, Nina Simon for Mother-Daughter Murder Night, and Tracy Clark for Hide.

 

I was lucky enough to have another panel on Sunday morning, where I joined the “Dogs and Cats and Birds, Oh My!” panel with four writers who focus on dogs in their books. 

 

With fellow authors C.B. Wilson, Margaret Mizushima, Joanna Campbell Slan, and Cynthia Baxter

 

Representing the undomesticated

I was the token bird person, celebrating underrepresented/endangered creature voices. We had a blast. Then it was goodbyes and airports and home. Still exhausted, but feeling happy and so lucky to be part of this community of writers and readers.

 

--Wendall