Late posting this, but a couple of days ago, I visited the Short Mystery Fiction Society blog to talk about one of my biggest writing problems: Restless Brain Syndrome (yes, I made up the term) and how it impacted my writing the book that releases tomorrow, Playing at Murder. Read the post here: https://shortmystery.blogspot.com/2022/10/guest-post-restless-brain-syndrome-or.html
Pre-order pricing ends Wednesday, October 19th!
Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFJS9FK9
Amazon print: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFTWFCXG
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playing-at-murder-karen-mccullough/1142486029
Other formats: https://books2read.com/u/bpq6Ng
The beach at Edisto Island. There were very few people there the first week in October.
In the fall of most years, my husband and I, with one sister-in-law, spend a week at the beach, specifically a house right on the ocean front at Edisto Island. It’s a wonderfully calm beach in many ways. The small town is fairly isolated, and the main attraction is the beach itself. There are no amusement parks, big shopping districts, casinos, or theaters.
It’s a good time for reading, relaxation, and writing, and I try to do a lot of all of them. This year I had several good writing sessions, resulting in about 8,000 words on a new novel.
For a while, though, we weren’t sure we’d get to go because of Hurricane Ian, which threatened the area right before we were due to arrive. Fortunately, the storm actually made its second land fall (after screaming across Florida) farther north on the South Carolina coast, which meant the impact to the island was minimal. It hit on Friday and we were told on Saturday that the island was okay enough for us to come the next day.
The front half of the dune has been washed away.
The effects of the storm were very noticeable, however. The first indication of problems was walking out the front door of the house and over the dune to the beach. Only…the dune now ended in a five-foot-high sand cliff, where the storm surge had wiped out the entire front half of it. Getting down to the beach level now involved a risky slide down the cliff or walking a few houses down behind the dune to the spot where a groin had minimized the wash-out.
Walking up and down the beach made it clear that the storm had washed out a great bit of the beach. Several years ago the town had undertaken a major replenishment project that transferred enormous amounts of sand from an offshore sandbar back to the beach. A lot of that was now washed away again.
At least in this part of the beach, the tide levels are noticeably different from the last time we were there in May. Aside from the washed out dunes, we noted that high tides came up higher, nearly to the base of what remained of the dunes and low tides were lower, with that water barely covering the far ends of the groins at the lowest point.
Beach erosion at Edisto, plus piles of sand on top of a staked-out turtle nest.
Perhaps the saddest sight were several areas marked with stakes and tape showing turtles’ nests. Many of those were now buried in feet of new sand. It’s hard to imagine the fragile eggs survived the weight. Fortunately it’s late in what was—by reports I’ve seen—a good season for baby turtles.
But the houses seem to have survived mostly intact and the surge didn’t get to most of them.
So we got to take long walks on a lightly populated beach, enjoy the sun, surf, and sound of the waves. Have a break from the routine. Refill the bucket and also get some writing done.
I was able to get some pretty nice pictures as well:
An unusual effect I managed to capture. On a very cloudy day, a line of light at the horizon shows at the far edges of the clouds.
A shrimp boat trolling close to the shore.
Seagulls gathered on the shore watching the shrimp boat
This is looking out over the ocean at sunset. Beautiful light effects even though the beach faces southeast.
Today my friend, Lois Winston, joins me here to talk a bit about her latest mystery release, Guilty as Framed, and how it came about:
By Lois Winston
I write a cozy mystery series featuring a reluctant amateur sleuth who works as a crafts editor at a women’s magazine. I’m also what you might call a newsaholic. As such, many of my plots are inspired by news and human-interest stories I read about in the newspaper and see on the evening news. A story that piques my interest will often become the inspiration for a plot or subplot for one of my books.
However, for Guilty as Framed, the latest book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, I’ve veered from being inspired by an actual crime to creating a plot that revolves around an actual crime. For decades, I’ve been fascinated by the burglary that occurred at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990. I followed the investigation as it unfolded and have read countless articles on this still unsolved crime. I’ve also watched several documentaries about the burglary and the efforts to find both the perpetrators and the missing artworks. Thirty-two years later, it’s still considered the largest art heist in history. To this day, not only haven’t the perpetrators been caught, but none of the artworks have ever been recovered. Hampering the ongoing investigation is the fact that many of the witnesses and persons of interest have since died, some of natural causes, and at least one of not-so-natural causes.
When I was mulling ideas for the eleventh book in my series, I wanted to incorporate the museum heist into the plot. I set myself quite a challenge. How could I tie a factual Boston cold case into the plot of a contemporary cozy mystery series that takes place in New Jersey?
That’s the beauty of writing fiction rather than true crime. I invented some new characters, changed the names of others (to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent), and wove various events from the actual crime into the plot that became Guilty as Framed.
Too bad along the way I couldn’t solve the mystery of the missing paintings. There’s still a huge outstanding reward for information leading to their recovery.
An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, Book 11
When an elderly man shows up at the home of reluctant amateur sleuth Anastasia Pollack, she’s drawn into the unsolved mystery of the greatest art heist in history.
Boston mob boss Cormac Murphy has recently been released from prison. He doesn’t believe Anastasia’s assertion that the man he’s looking for doesn’t live at her address and attempts to muscle his way into her home. His efforts are thwarted by Anastasia’s fiancé Zack Barnes.
A week later, a stolen SUV containing a dead body appears in Anastasia’s driveway. Anastasia believes Murphy is sending her a message. It’s only the first in a series of alarming incidents, including a mugging, a break-in, another murder, and the discovery of a cache of jewelry and an etching from the largest museum burglary in history.
But will Anastasia solve the mystery behind these shocking events before she falls victim to a couple of desperate thugs who will stop at nothing to get what they want?
Buy Links
Paperback: https://amzn.to/3QLEYU5
Hardcover: https://amzn.to/3Ans5s6
Kindle: https://amzn.to/3tLnT3d
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/guilty-as-framed
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/guilty-as-framed/id6442846272
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/guilty-as-framed-lois-winston/1141500980?ean=2940185728703
Bio:
USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.
This week the Triangle Sisters in Crime released its third anthology, titled Rock, Roll, and Ruin.
My story in the anthology is titled “Rock ‘N’ Roll Never Forgets”. Although the Bob Seger song referenced by the title provided some initial inspiration for the story, the finished project has very little direct connection. It does draw heavily on my own experiences of playing guitar and singing with various groups over the years.
The basic idea for the story came first – a girl band on the brink of failure comes across a forgotten and enigmatic piece of music that appears to have incredible potential. When the group works on creating their own arrangement, though, they hit snag after snag. In frustration, they decide to investigate the background of the song, only to learn that the writer is in prison, having been convicted of the murder of a fellow band member. Believing that the music itself contains clues to what really happened, they decide to dig deeper into the story behind the song.
But there’s more than one version of that story and figuring out which is true may hinge on how to read the song itself.
As is my norm, I launched into the story with only the basic idea outlined in the one-sentence description a couple of paragraphs above. The rest started to gel as I continued to write and the scenes began to flow. But one of the disadvantages of being a pantser (an author who writes by the seat of their pants rather than from an outline) is that the story will twist and turn in the creation process, necessitating many revisions of what was written earlier. This one took more turns than I expected.
In fact, my process of writing the story somewhat echoed the band’s journey to understanding the song itself. I came to my own realization of what really happened as the words flowed. Earlier drafts with different solutions just didn’t work or didn’t feel right, so I tweaked and reconsidered and finally got to the solution that satisfied me.
Once I had what I thought was an acceptable draft, I let a few family members read it. They made suggestions I incorporated. Finally editor extraordinaire Karen Pullen had some great ideas to sharpen the focus and clarify the outcome. The result is a story I’m proud of.
I’m eager to read the rest of the stories in the anthology as soon as I get my copies!
Blurb:
In Rock, Roll, and Ruin, twenty-seven mystery writers serve up musically-themed crime stories around situations as unique as your inky fingerprints. There’s the bad-boy rock star, dumber than dirt, evading all attempts to keep him out of jail. Casino robbers undone by tribal flutes. A 1950’s jukebox that summons the dead and disappears the living. Jealousy drives girl band shenanigans, while a victim of botched plastic surgery seeks vengeance. Untimely deaths abound: at the prom, on a soap opera set, on a mountain-side hike. Several domestic “disagreements” are far from cliche: one wife is impatient and greedy; another wants her Stevie Nicks albums back; a third is desperate to get her husband to turn down the volume. Elvis fans will be tickled by the many mentions of the King himself, including an over-the-top fan club and a side-kick named after his dog. Whether trudging through snow in an Alaska forest, humming country music at a boatyard in Florida, playing sleuth at an assisted living facility, or stumbling backstage at the opera, irate, despairing, and deceived characters step into crime with barely a second thought.
Rock, Roll, and Ruin is a music-themed anthology of the Triangle, North Carolina chapter of Sisters in Crime. Some stories are cackling-out-loud funny, others are wickedly dark, but all are entertaining, original, un-putdownable. As Hank Phillippi Ryan writes in the Introduction, “Dip in to this concert of mystery, open to any story, and you’ll sing a chorus of approval.”
Praise for Rock, Roll, and Ruin:
“Double-crosses, divas, detectives, and divorces—all set against the soundtrack of our lives. Rock, Roll, and Ruin takes us on a rollicking musical trip down memory lane with Buddy Holly, Chuck Barry, Elvis, and a host of musical delights. Oh, and a murder or ten.” —Susan Van Kirk, President of the Guppy Chapter of Sisters in Crime and author of the Endurance Mysteries
“The clever theme of this delightful anthology leads to a plethora of fine short stories featuring music from rock and roll through gospel, country, ole time rock and roll, and opera. Sleuths range from teachers to physicians to waitresses to musicians. Authors are new and veteran. Rock, Roll, and Ruinindeed offers something for any mystery lover.” —Molly Weston, Mystery Writers of American Raven Award for Meritorious Mysteries
“From self-important bands through a high school sock hop to rabid fans, these 27 stories follow music-obsessed individuals as their lives descend into crime and mayhem. A fascinating look at danger in our music culture.” —KM Rockwood, author of the Jesse Damon crime novel series
“A rollicking good collection of crime stories powered by lyrics, strains, beats, and bop (on the head) malice.” —Molly MacRae, author of The Highland Bookshop Mysteries and The Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries
“When the combination of mystery and music runs amok, the result is Rock, Roll, and Ruin—a book you can’t put down!” —Debra Goldstein, author of the Sarah Blair mysteries
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rock-Roll-Ruin-Triangle-Anthology-ebook/dp/B0BB3DV6N5/
You can pre-order it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFJS9FK9
Sneak Peek:
Chapter 1
Tuesday
Armies of super-heroes stood guard to the left of me, while lions, tigers, and bears gathered on the right. They all watched with silent concern as I zigged around an arsenal of armaments fueled by hydrogen dioxide and various mixtures of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide. I faced my goal, Dougal the Dragon, head-on and stalked toward him. In my arms I cradled the all-important emergency medical supplies for his injured representative at this gathering. Heaven help us all if he couldn’t be saved.
Ding dong. That was a bit of wild fantasy, but I enjoyed letting my imagination loose on this mission. The touch of whimsy provided some diversion from the noise and chaos of setting up the Games and Playthings Exhibition at the Washington D.C. Commerce and Market Center. G&P, which was due to start the next day, was one of the largest trade shows for toys and games in the industry, and it brought the usual supply of problems and conflicts inherent in large events.
I tried to avoid being on the show floor as much as possible on set-up days. The constant banging of hammers, clanging of metal on metal, buzzing of electric screwdrivers, squeaking of dolly and cartwheels, warning chirps of the forklifts, and people shouting always induced a headache if I had to spend much time there. Not to mention having to pick my way around the pallets, crates, and boxes stacked everywhere and dodging those squeaking dollies and chirping forklifts.
I still ended up spending more time on the floor than I would’ve liked. Territorial disputes and arguments over arrangements broke out with sadly human regularity, and a large part of my job involved keeping the peace. Trying to, anyway.
This assignment was different. I let go of the fantasy illusion as I got to the Donneywell Enterprises booth, identified myself, and explained my mission.
“Heather McNeil,” I said to the person behind the only table set up in the booth space. “Assistant to the director of the Market Center. I was told you needed a sewing kit to repair one of your displays.” I set the box down on the table where a young woman with long brown hair scraped back from her face and tied in a messy braid at the back looked up from collating and stapling pages.
She stared at me with a blank expression, glanced down at my badge, but said nothing. Her expression went from vacant to wary.
“Can I speak to the person in charge of the booth?” I asked when the silence stretched out too long.
A voice spoke from the back. “That would be me.”
A woman in her late forties or early fifties stepped out from behind a pyramid of boxes at least a foot taller than she was. My first, none-too-kind impression of her was “overcooked.” Her blonde hair had the straw-like texture resulting from too much chemical treatment for too long a time, and the spray-tanned skin of her face had been lifted once too often already. Tight jeans and a fashionably shoulder-slit top showed off a slim figure that seemed to vibrate with contained energy. Good bones under the tight skin and lively green eyes made her attractive.
“Lorene Donneywell,” she said, holding out a hand. “I heard you say you were with the Market Center staff.” She had a strong New York accent.
“I’m the assistant to the director,” I repeated. “I handle a lot of trouble-shooting issues for her. I’ve brought the sewing supplies you requested.”
“Great. How long do you think it will take you?”
“Take me? To do what?”
“Fix the tear in Dougal.” She pointed to the eight-foot-tall display dragon I’d used to identify their booth. The creature, which must’ve been as long as it was tall, occupied nearly a third of their allotted double space. Along the side of his back, a seam had opened and leaked stuffing. Bits of cotton fluff clung to the green, plush fabric.
I hesitated, taken aback. “You requested a sewing kit, not a seamstress. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about sewing. Not even sure how the thread gets through the needle.”
Lorene rolled her eyes. “Why did they send you, then?”
“Because you asked for sewing equipment in a hurry. We got it as quickly as we could. We assumed you had someone on your staff who knew how to use it.”
The woman’s penciled-in eyebrows rose. “We all know what happens when you assume things.”
I kept my smile in place, despite the irritation roiling inside. I had so much experience keeping my emotions under control, I could maintain a pleasant façade with barely a thought. “Misunderstandings happen when people aren’t specific about what they need. Give me a minute and I’ll see if I can find someone to come and make the repairs.” I pulled out my phone but before I could press the button to turn it on, the girl I’d first met piped up.
“I can do it.”
We both turned toward her, but Lorene spoke first. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
The girl frowned at both of us. “No one asked.”
I turned to hide my grin since Lorene didn’t seem to appreciate the irony.
You can pre-order it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFJS9FK9
I have a cover, a blurb, and a release date for Playing at Murder. The cover needed some last minute changes when there was a problem with one of the images, which had to be replaced with something else.
Blurb:
Dolls, constructions sets, stuffed animals, craft kits, and more are the featured displays in the annual Games and Playthings Trade Show at the Washington D.C. Commerce and Market Center, where vendors seek to convince retail buyers to stock their products. Murder and destruction aren’t supposed to be on the program.
The hit-and-run death of an exhibitor overshadows what should be a fun few days of giveaways, games, and demos. A gun hidden in a bin of stuffed animals, a damaged show car, and a drone knocking over the PlayBlox displays are the opening salvos of chaos created by a clever but unhinged vandal.
Settling disputes and fielding complaints are all in a day’s work for Heather McNeil, assistant to the director of the Market Center. Sussing out murder suspects to help the police is way beyond her job description, especially while trying to corner a vandal before the damage gets worse. Keeping the show running despite the mayhem will pit her and her allies, particularly Scott Brandon, the Center’s handsome but enigmatic security officer, against someone playing a deadly game.
Releases on October 19th. Pre-order should be available in a week or so.
The ebook of my sweet romance novel, Falling for the Deputy, Book 4 of the Hopeless Romantics of Willow Ridge, is on sale for just 99 cents for the next few days. Get it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09QQRXM8S
Belle Bridge Books is putting the ebook of my romantic fantasy novel, Wizard’s Bridge, on sale for just $.99 for a limited time from August 16 to August 31.
Order you copy here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B004UM99Z6/
Toward Beaufort. Contrasting houses -an older home on the left with a newer one on the right.
After the visit to Cape Lookout, we turned and retraced our route a bit to get back to Beaufort for a tour of the city from the water.
The narrow channel between the Beaufort waterfront and one long island of the Rachel Carson Nature Preserve is a “no wake” zone. What that means in practice is that you have to take your boat along it slowly to keep it from generating waves.
I understand the rule is to prevent damage to the many expensive seacraft moored on the waterfront, but riding the channel at a moderate pace is a good idea anyway. There really isn’t a lot of room between the island and the city and boat traffic was heavy on a beautiful August weekend day. That slow drift allows lots of time to enjoy the scenery as well and there was plenty of that to take in.
Liz piloting the boat in the channel
From the time you enter the channel, on the outskirts of the city of Beaufort, the waterfront is lined with marinas housing everything from dinghies to multi-million-dollar yachts. Honestly, there’s almost no stretch of land that doesn’t have docks with bunches of boats moored to them.
On the east side of the city the houses that line the waterfront are a mix of old and new. The differences are stark. The older houses are small, one or two stories at most, modest in both size and demeanor. The newer ones are large and rambunctious, taking up most of their lot, three or four stories tall, with huge windows and balconies all over. They’re built to house larger families or even multi-family groups. I’ve seen this same phenomenon at other beaches. The fact is, these days waterfront property is too valuable for small houses.
Beaufort waterfront
As we drift near downtown, the docks are clustered close together. There are some mega-yachts at anchor here. In fact, boats of all sizes call this area home, including some fun, touristy things. A floating tiki bar goes by and we pass a replica of a pirate ship called “The Revenge.” We’ll pass it out on the water later. The crew are dressed in Jack Sparrow-approved pirate gear and the kids get to fire actual (water) cannons.
On the other side of Beaufort, large banks of hotels and condos are springing up, along with more elaborate commercial and fishing operations. We turned around at the new bridge over the inlet between Beaufort and Morehead City.
A floating tiki bar
On the other side of the narrow channel in front of Beaufort is the Rachel Carson nature preserve, a group of low-lying islands, tidal flats, and estuaries. (https://deq.nc.gov/about/divisions/coastal-management/nc-coastal-reserve/reserve-sites/rachel-carson-reserve) Although the area is home to a wide variety of intriguing coastal flora and fauna, the most interesting to most people are the wild horses. We caught one brief glimpse of a couple of horses on the return trip, but I wasn’t able to get a decent picture.
Finally as the afternoon waned, we emerged from the channel and headed back to
The Revenge – a tourist attraction. I believe that’s a dinner cruise boat behind it.
Harker’s Island, arriving with enough time to let us get cleaned up ahead of our dinner plans.
One of many large yachts
Beaufort commercial district
Rachel Carson Nature Reserve
Commercial fishing operation with the new US 70 bridge