Author: C. Michele Dorsey

 One morning last November, I strolled into the Market Basket just over the Sagamore Bridge, the entrance to Cape Cod, to pick up a few items on my way home to the tindominium. Right in front of me stood a display filled with various sizes of freshly squeezed orange juice with a sign saying, “Squeezed Today.” I headed right for it, reaching for one of the largest size bottles.            Then I heard the voices of the invisible committee, sitting on my shoulders, whispering in my ears. “Orange juice, Michele?” asked one. “All that sugar,” said the one on my other shoulder. I silently told the orange juice was good for me. Vitamin C. “Sure, if it survived the pesticides,” chortled a voice. “How old do you think those oranges were before they were squeezed?” sniggered the other. I told them to shut up and placed the bottle in my basket, wheeling it quickly away into the bakery section before I was shamed out of buying orange juice by them. I glanced at a package of fresh baked pecan cinnamon rolls, which I had never noticed or purchased before, and defiantly put them next to the orange juice.            The next morning, my husband and I sat in the toasty November sun, reading the Sunday papers, welcoming a new week with fresh orange juice and warmed pecan rolls we even buttered. I refused to listen to the committee of “they.”  You know who that is. It’s the preface to a sentence that starts with, “They say you should never eat these three items if you want to rid yourself of belly fat” or “Always tell your children the truth about…” They is a very diverse and busy committee, especially now with the Internet and social media. Sometimes they can be identified as a source from Huff Post or even the New York Times, but often the committee’s roots are vague and its name an acronym no one had the time to figure out. They tell us how to spend our money, raise our children, what foods we must and must not eat, and what to read before we die with such authority, it’s hard to resist. The committee’s advice is often distilled into lists. “Ten Reasons Never to Drink Milk in Your Coffee.” “The Twenty Things You Must Do to Live Longer.” It’s exhausting.            Writers are faced with these lists all of the time. On any given day, Facebook will have a dozen lists telling a writer what she should do to become successful. Some of these lists are from professional agents and editors and can be very help, but others come from less reliable sources and can cripple a writer. In 57 seconds, Google handed me more than 93 million choices for advice for writers.            I certainly take Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules for Writers that the New York Times had to persuade him to share seriously, probably because it isn’t dished out as dogma. “Try to leave out the parts readers tend to skip.” But even one of Leonard’s rules was a myth debunked by Lee Child, who pointed to successful authors who start with weather, another Leonard prohibition. Child says the rule that a writer must show, not tell a story is wrong and that it’s fine for a writer to tell a story.            Getting an agent can be as difficult as writing an entire book, so advice from professional agents like my own, Paula Munier, who has penned three excellent books on writing, can be helpful. Agent Jessica Faust of Book Ends recently blogged five very helpful “Do’s and Don’ts” for writing a query letter. Jane Friedman’s blog is filled with great information. There is wonderful information available for writers. You just have to remember three things (and now I’ve slipped into writing a list of my own): 1. Consider the source of the advice and its credibility. 2. Remember that some of the most successful writers have hit the NY Times best seller lists by abandoning well established writing conventions.3. Writing advice, be it in a list or any other form, should help you to write. It should not shut you down.           Take one example on this last important point. “You must write every day” is a rule spouted by many wonderful and successful authors. When I worked as a lawyer, mediator, and adjunct professor, I would arise early to review my case for the day, head out to court, return to the office to meet clients and conduct mediations. At the end of the day, I’d drive to Boston to teach law students who miraculously invigorated me. When was I supposed to write? Oh, I listened and watched lawyers, clients, court officers, and judges and took notes, jotting down ideas. But writing everyday wasn’t going to happen. Did I quit because I wasn’t a real writer if I couldn’t write every day? No. I’d write for ten hours on weekends, considered writing a priority when I’d take a vacation, and managed to write eight books, two of which were published during that time.            So go ahead, read the advice after you’re sure it’s coming from a reliable source. Then, start writing. And while you’re doing it, treat yourself to a glass of orange juice.    

  In earlier posts, I’ve shared what it was like to come to the decision to downsize from a ten-room house by the ocean to a mobile home, which isn’t mobile, in outer Cape Cod. Part of that decision was motivated by a thirty-year desire to spend winters in St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands, where we had vacationed for decades. We’re just about to return to the “tindominium” on the Cape after our second winter here in St. John.            We are not living in a luxurious villa in St. John. We live in a sweet one-room cottage with a separate kitchen and a “bedroom area” next to our “living space.” There is a covered porch that runs the length of the cottage and overlooks Hurricane Hole. And there is a community pool for our tiny community of five.             Our winter cottage is in Coral Bay, where the bumper sticker, “We’re all here, because we’re not all there,” was inspired. We live among artists, writers, musicians, activists, and environmentalists, some of whom are supposed to be retired but you’d never know it. I’ve met real characters here that defy imagination and beg to be placed on a page. They don’t have to plead with me.            The transition to smaller quarters has been easier than we imagined, but we were really only living in three rooms in our former home in the end. The other seven were occupied by “stuff” now long gone, or at least most of it. Living in a warmer climate in the winter and on Cape Cod in the summer allows us to do most of our living outdoors. Our porch is where we perch most often when we are home. I write there, but also often take my laptop to a quiet shady spot on a beach where the fresh salt air seems to enhance my word count. There is a rooster who frequently visits me when I am writing. Sometimes he will sit on a branch and take a nap, occasionally opening one eye. Whether he is checking to see if I am still writing or that I’m keeping an eye out for him while he has his siesta, I don’t know, but it seems to be working for us.            How has life changed? We find that downsizing the size of our living quarters has made our lives huge. We have met many new wonderful friends with whom we share food, music, and island festivities. We don’t worry if we should be “working on the house” because we rent the cottage, which hasn’t diminished our affection for it as our little island home.             There have been some challenges. We have one car and one bathroom, but we’ve adjusted. Our kitchen is tiny but that didn’t stop us from cooking a kick-ass Bolognese and berry clafouti for friends the other night. Steve works part-time a few days a week at the local recycle center where he gets to meet lots of island folk and tinker with items they bring in to donate.  We’ve created individual space for each other even in a tiny cottage.             The sunrise each morning seems as if it were meant just for us. But soon we will be fluttering those wings we rediscovered and will return to our tindominium on the Cape with adventures planned in Provence, Dublin, and Virginia.                Writers often talk about “place” and how important it is to a story. I’m finding that it is the space I have cracked open within myself that is opening me to places I only dreamed about and letting me write my own story.     

 Procrastination, how do I practice thee? Let me count the ways.            The practice of procrastination isn’t limited to writers. Most procrastinators can remember “cramming” for an exam or starting a term paper at the last minute. I remember when I was in high school waiting until the night before all of the lab reports due in my chemistry class for the entire semester were due. I agonized over what my notes written months before meant, and vowed never to put myself in the position of pulling an “all-nighter” ever again as I finished the last report. I peeked out my window to see if it was light yet and saw that I had missed the heavy snowfall that had occurred during the night. There was no school that day! I had stayed up all night before a snow day just because I had procrastinated.            Did this experience reform me? Of course not. I wrote some of my best legal briefs on the cusp of a deadline. But I always wondered, would they have been better if I’d started writing them just a tad before?            My writing career has given my procrastination habits a whole new dimension. Many deadlines for writers are self-imposed, such as, I want to get this out to my agent or send five queries by the end of the month. Those can be tougher than when an editor says your first draft is due in three months.            But what is it that makes us procrastinate? Many theorize it comes from a fear that we will not achieve perfection. Others debunk that as a water cooler myth and say it has other causes. I actually tried to procrastinate writing this blog post by taking an online quiz on procrastination to determine if I was the garden variety or had “Procrastinator” tattooed on my back. Unfortunately, the quiz is no longer available. I guess I’ll have to continue writing the blog.            How do I procrastinate? Any way I can. But there does seem to be a pattern, so I’ll confess.            Facebook quizzes. I know they are stupid and probably make private information about me available to the Russians, but if I’m in a procrastination kind of mood, I’ll take the risk. “Whose Name Is Written on Your Future Marriage Certificate?” will grab me even though I will soon celebrate my fortieth anniversary.  “What color is your personality/chakra?” seemed irresistible when I had a deadline looming. “Plan an afternoon tea party and we’ll predict how many children you’ll have” sounded scientifically sound to me when I was supposed to be editing. “What is your real age?” only primed the pump for this procrastinator when I learned I was truly decades younger than I am.            When I find myself taking these quizzes, I force myself to post the results on Facebook with the comment, “Someone is procrastinating.” Does this self-admission embarrass me into jumping on task?            Often, it only makes me realize how badly the bathroom needs to be cleaned. Or that I am in desperate need for a pedicure. Occasionally I will decide it is the perfect moment to cook Bolognese sauce. When I am really desperate, I will leaf through my daily “To Do” lists, which I keep in a notebook. I will look back months for items which were not crossed off.            Ultimately I apply a little “ass glue” and plop my butt in a chair and start to write. After the first sentence, I realize whatever task I had feared doing was less painful than the act of procrastination. With each word, I feel better. Am I cured of procrastination? Hell, no. This sequence promises to repeat itself.            Will you share how you procrastinate? I’m getting tired of those silly quizzes and could use some new ideas.             

    We’re celebrating St. Patrick’s Day on Miss Demeanors by sharing what we love about the Irish/Ireland.            My family is from Scituate, Massachusetts, the town considered to be the most Irish in America. I love St. Patrick’s Day and all things Irish including parades, fiddles, politics, dry wit, freckles and red hair, Irish writers, root vegetables, whiskey, Guinness, and most of all the storytelling.            One story goes like this. My grandmother, clearly a woman of a certain age, was pushing me when I was an infant in a carriage down Front Street in Scituate when she happens upon Mayor James Michael Curley, the Irish-American mayor/rogue of Boston, known for “Vote often and early, said James Michael Curley.” “Ah, you’ve had another one, Madeline,” he says with a straight face, bending over to kiss me and bless me with the gift of blarney forevermore  Alexia:         What don’t I love about Ireland? I set my novels there, after all.  I’m an avowed Hibernophile.Where, oh where to begin? I love Irish whiskey, with Midleton Barry Crockett, Bushmills 21, and Connemara Peated being at the top of the list (Full disclosure: I love whiskey/whiskey, from a variety of countries but the aforementioned are among my all-time favorites.), Irish pubs (and pub food), Irish music, Irish festivals, Irish dance, Irish wolfhounds (although I don’t have room for one), Irish cottages, Irish fishermen’s sweaters, Irish folklore, Irish accents, red hair (not strictly Irish but I love it), Irish names (even the unpronounceable-by-American-tongues Gaelic names), the Irish language (Gaelic sounds beautiful spoken. I understand none of it), Irish slang (I want to tell some feckin’ eejit to stop acting the maggot), Gaelic football (I am not a sports fan, so that’s saying a lot), Irish soda bread, Waterford crystal … You get the idea. I don’t know why I’m such a fan of all things Irish. I’m not Irish (Well, mostly not. Ancestry’s DNA test says I’m 14% Irish but I was a Hibernophile long before I took the test.), I didn’t grow up in or near an Irish neighborhood, my first trip to Ireland was as an adult. I can’t explain it but I do enjoy it. Paula:              I love Ireland, too. My family is mostly Alsatian, but my maternal grandmother Peg always insisted that she was Irish. No one believed her, but as it turns out she was right. Our Clancy and Couch ancestors came to the United States in the 1820s. Which explains my long fascination with the country: its literature, its history and mythology, its culture, and its people. Years ago, when a YA editor asked me to pick a country and set a story there, I chose Ireland  (Emerald’s Desire, long out of print), and happily  indulged my passion for Celtic lore and legend. I finally got to visit Ireland seven years ago, when my daughter met me in Dublin for St. Patrick’s Day. I loved everything about that city, but my favorite place was the Dublin Writers Museum: Swift and Sheridan, Shaw and Wilde, Yeats, Joyce and Beckett, the list goes on and on. If you’re ever there, don’t miss it! Cate: You know you’re Irish when you can’t make a story short. This joke about the Irish fit my father’s Irish American family and it applies to me. Perhaps that’s why I left journalism for novel writing.Here’s a little story that I’ll try to make short. When I was a kid, my grandparents did a fair amount of traveling. Every country that they visited, they would bring back a doll–except for Ireland. When they went to Ireland, they would bring back a box of peat and tell us that our people were from there and I was to plant something inside of it. Dolls ultimately became cracked, dead things. But the plants would blossom. So, in my head, Ireland is associated with life and growth.  Robin:          This one is easy – my mom. Her father (my grandfather) was the son of Irish immigrants. I haven’t been to Ireland yet but I have been to other parts of the U.K. (England and Scotland). Ireland is on my short list for future destinations. Susan:           I have to confess that I’ve spent a good part of my life explaining that I do NOT have an Irish heritage. When your last name is Breen and your husband comes from Boston and your daughter went to Boston College, it’s implied. But I’m only Irish via an over-enthusiastic clerk at Ellis Island. That said, I love Irish story-tellers, Irish whiskey, Irish dancing and my many Irish friends, who are hell-raisers one and all.  Tracee:         Is this a ploy to get me to read James Joyce? If not, then you’ve caught me out. Ireland, a subject on which I have no opinion. I’ve been to England but not Ireland (or Scotland or Wales for that matter) and while I have an image of a beautiful rolling green landscape in my mind, that’s it. I look forward to learning what I’ve missed and perhaps exploring some of your favorite bits about the Emerald Isle (that is what it’s called?). What do you love about the Irish/Ireland?     

 The agony associated with being a writer is well earned. It’s no small wonder most writers’ faces are permanently frozen in scowls, grimaces, and glares or that they are rumored to take to the drink.Do you know how many decisions writers face? It usually starts with the story. What is my story anyway? Does it come from within or from the world around me? Is it enough to spin a plot?            Then there’s the cast. Who will tell my story? Occasionally a character will pop into a writer’s head with so strong a voice, the story begins there.            Where will the story take place is a critical choice for a writer. Setting can become an actual character in a book. Where does the writer want to take her reader? Where will readers want to go with the writer?            Next comes, how will the story be told? Now we get into the nitty-gritty decisions, the ones writers like to debate when they’re avoiding writing their stories. Will the story be told intimately from the first person point of view, limiting the perspective to that of one person who essentially narrates his own story? Or will it unfold through the third person multiple point of view where a small cast shares what is happening with the readers providing  several outlooks but creating a distance?Perhaps the writer will decide to take a chance and try something criticized when it goes wrong, but acclaimed when it works. Maybe the writer will switch from first person to third person point of view in various chapters. She might even dare to break the cardinal rule that one should remain with a single character’s point of view for each scene or chapter and switch point of view from one character to another. Writers are admonished that such a choice can only lead to disaster. Tell that to the writer who decided to do it anyway and landed on the New Times Best Seller list at #1 many times.The decision about what tense to use is enough to make a writer more than tense. Most stories are told in the past tense, but there is a growing trend to use the present tense. Should the writer stick with the tried and true or venture into the present tense and see if it works? I thought I knew the answer to this one because I usually dislike reading books written in the present tense. Until I recently loved a book and only realized it was written in the present tense at the end.Oh, there are so many more choices along the way, but the ultimate choice is where does the writer leave the reader. Sobbing into a ball of tissues soggy with tears? Giddy with the knowledge the cast has set off for happily ever after? Or scratching his head, wondering?With so many decisions to be made, it’s easy to understand how writers often procrastinate. But where else could you find a job that allows you the freedom to make choices? I’m trying to pay less attention to the rules, to relish the choices, and to remember, “There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
Somerset Maugham.What painful choices have you made as a writer?                           

 How many times have I stumbled across an artist on a dock or in a garden perched before her easel, paint brush poised in hand, and felt a wave of envy? The artist is bathing in natural light and fresh air, transforming them into images on her canvas. Painting en plein air. It even sounds  romantic and exotic. I’ve tried painting and learned that indoors or in the wild, I have no talent.            But I can write, which some say is an art form, while others debate it’s a craft. There are those who say it’s both. I just know I’m driven to write and wondered what would happen if I took my act outdoors. Why not write en plein?My first attempts were during vacations. I remember sitting in a lemon grove in Sorrento, the sun warming my back and shoulders, smelling citrus, but no sense that other people were present while I wrote in my notebook. I breathed in the salt tinged fog on a dock in Maine early one morning writing with cold cramped fingers. I’ve always taken my journal with me to the beach, no matter which beach I was headed to.            When I began spending my winters in St. John in the Virgin Islands, I struggled with how to balance my writing time with beach time. I resisted the thought of sitting indoors at a desk while the sun and a palette of blue skies with enormous marshmallow clouds and emerald green seas beckoned me. My husband and I always seek a spot under a shady tree at the beach, knowing unfortunately what too much sun can do to your health. We began frequenting a spot at the end of a beach with a generous canopy of shade, which fortunately doesn’t attract most beach goers. The ocean is several feet away and most days our only companions are a rooster and an occasional band of donkeys. With a small lightweight laptop with a waterproof cover, a few pens, a notebook and some index cards, writing became more portable than painting at an easel. Welcome to my writing room.           Writers are often encouraged to be open to their senses. See, smell, taste, touch and listen to all that is around you. Becoming conscious of all that was around me, I noticed the rhythm of the lapping waves playing like music, the Tradewinds brushing over my arms and legs, and the smell of the ocean ever present. I became lost in a place somewhere between where my story was taking place and the natural environment in which my body seemed suspended. And I wrote. Lots.            Of course, I didn’t invent writing en plein. Many writers before me have borrowed the practice often attributed to painters from the Impressionist era. While writing en plein is frequently used to inspire the writer’s description of a particular place, I see no reason to limit it. My grandmother used to urge us to “get out in the fresh air.” She was right about it being good for human beings to get out of the house. My agent and writer teacher Paula Munier, who is almost as wise as my grandmother, agrees. “The next time you want to fire up your writing brain, go outside and get some Vitamin D. You know it’s good for you – and your ideas.”             Where would you like to write en plein?  Save

I’ve been in Three Pines, where Louise Penny sets her Chief Inspector Gamache mystery series, for about six weeks now. I’ve suffered through several long winters, endured a few hot summers, and relished as many perfect springs and autumns in that short time. On January 20th (the date is no coincidence), I fled to this village in Canada just above the Vermont border, a place safe and filled with hygge. The Oxford Dictionary defines hygge as “a quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being.”            Oddly, it hasn’t matter that in each of the twelve books I’ve read during my sojourn, a murder has occurred because Louise Penny has created Armand Gamache, whom I grew to trust and revere. I knew each time I opened a new book that  Chief Inspector Gamache would ultimately expose the murderer, along with a few lessons about the human condition. The murders were much less disturbing than never-ending alerts on my telephone or the incessant chatter on television about what the daily disaster was back on the home front.            I fell into Three Pines like it was the puffy feather duvet my grandmother had washed so many times you couldn’t tell what the original colors were. I tried to pace myself, remembering there are only twelve books so far. I gobbled chapters faster than the characters devoured croissants, omelets, and chocolate chip cookies. I imagined drinking whisky, beer, and countless bowls of café au lait with my new friends, even though I have never had anything but dark roast black coffee my entire life.            I was drawn to the roaring fireplaces in the bistro with mismatched chairs and sofas waiting for me to plop down into with a good book. I knew I would find no shortage of reading material in Myrna’s bookstore and that Olivier would bring me a glass of red wine with a bowl of nuts without being asked.I hoped I would be invited to another of Clara’s potluck dinners where I might be treated to beef bourguignon, warm apple pie, and a glimpse of Ruth, the crusty foul-mouthed poet who always brings her pet duck to village affairs. Poetry is part of the normal conversation in Three Pines among many of my new friends, while some prefer cussing, or a combination of both.            I’d finish one book in the Gamache series, vowing to take at least a few days off before starting another. But I didn’t want to leave Three Pines knowing what awaited me when I hit  the “on” button on the remote control. So I hit the “purchase the next book in this series” button instead.            I worried a little about what would happen when I ran out of books and could not longer descend from the great lookout above the valley into Three Pines, which is uncharted on maps. Was there a twelve-step program for my addiction? To prepare for my withdrawal, I read a little about Louise Penny’s background and learned she created the series and the setting after 9-11 because she wanted to provide a place where readers felt safe and comforted, offering them a cast of characters who would feel like friends.            And that may have been the biggest gift from my retreat to Three Pines. What I learned is how powerful good writing can be. It doesn’t have to be dark, disturbing, provocative, or revolutionary, although many of the Gamache books include these elements. Good writing need only reach the heart and soul of the reader. What writers have reached your heart and soul? Save

I was a panster by default. I had three other jobs (lawyer, mediator, and adjunct law professor) when I realized what my real calling was. I was meant to tell stories. Actually, that’s what lawyers do. They tell their clients’ stories persuasively to judges, hoping to distinguish theirs from the masses of others also seeking a dose of daily justice.            I didn’t have time to sit at a desk or anywhere else poised at a laptop or with pen in hand developing an outline for the story floating around my brain cells. Oh, I’d have a notebook handy to capture a line I was sure would be unforgettable or to capture the voices of  my characters but that was about it. Because I was busy writing pleadings and briefs, my creative writing time, which I had relegated to hobby status, was when I was on vacation or  when I could “steal” a chunk of time. (More on this another time, but worth mentioning that the denial one is a writer is a huge impediment to being one.)            I wrote many books as a pantser, many of which sit in  boxes unpublished. I’m not saying they weren’t worthy endeavors but I’ve learned since have two books published that there is a give and take element to writing. As a reader, I receive the gift of the writer. When I write, I share with the reader what I have to offer. I’m not sure if anyone has studied whether pantser or plotters get published more, but my point is there are valid reasons beyond vanity to want to be published.            I enjoy the thrill of being a pantser and not knowing what I will write until my fingertips have danced over a keyboard. It’s like taking a road trip without an itinerary or a map. But we all have heard about road trips gone wrong when dazed and confused travelers stumble into a local convenience store gasping, “Where are the maps.” Or at least turn on the GPS.            Recently I found myself repeatedly lost while trying to write a book different than the ones I have written before. A lifetime insomniac, I had always relied on my middle of the night sleeplessness to brainstorm my story and tire me enough to fall back to sleep. Not this time. I never went back to sleep. The pieces weren’t fitting. My protagonist wasn’t cooperating. She refused to reveal her voice to me through my disorganized and fragmented style. I thought I heard her say one early morning around 4:00 a.m., “When you’re ready for me, I’ll be ready for you.”            Several drafts later, I admitted to my agent I might have to outline. She laughed and reminded me that in one the writing books she has written, she says “even if you are a pantser, there may come a time in your career when you need to think like a plotter, like it or not.” The time had not just come for me; it was long overdue.            I lured myself into the outlining process with fluorescent-colored index cards and post-its. I remembered outlining textbooks methodically in my days at a parochial high school and later in law school. I wondered if those experiences had fed my resistance and were a form of rebellion. Ultimately, I fell into the comfort, routine, and direction outlining was offering me. My protagonist started whispering to me. Themes rose from the mounting pile of index cards. My story unfolded. I knew the beginning,  middle, and end. Even better, I understood why.            Will I always be a plotter now? I doubt it. I love the adventure that comes with being a pantser. I may create my own hybrid, allowing myself the fun of pantsing the beginning of a book when it’s more conceptual than concrete, then permitting the story to have a proper itinerary and map.             Writers: Are you a plotter or a pantser and why?            Reade  “Writing with Quiet Hands: how to shape your writing to resonate with readers,” Paula Munier, Writer’s Digest Books. Save

                 There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”― Frank Herbert Readers seem to have very definite opinions about endings. I know I do. But I wonder if writers feel the same way about endings when they have a pen in hand.It seems there are three choices for writers. An ending can delight as in “happily ever after.” Or it can devastate. I can still hear my daughter sobbing inconsolably at the end of Ann Karenina. Then there is the dangle. I’m talking Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island or even more maddening to me, Anita Shreve’s The Last Time They Met.            You might have guessed, I’m a happily ever after girl. After thirty years of practicing family law, I am without apology when I say I not only want, I need a happy ending. Not that I haven’t been riveted by tragic finales like those in Mystic River and Ordinary People. But when I write, I try to give my readers a resolution that is satisfying if not entirely happy.            What about you, my fellow Miss Demeanors? What do you look for when you read? Is it different than when you write? Delight, dangle, or devastate? Alexia: It depends on the book. For a stand-alone mystery I like a nice, tidy ending. The murderer is exposed and brought to justice, order is restored. For a series, subplot cliff-hangers are okay as long as the main plot’s crime is wrapped up by the end of the book. If I’m reading comedy, I want a happy ending. If I’m reading satire, horror, or sci-fi, I don’t mind danglers and not-so-happy endings. I don’t read romances but I might if one ended with boy-doesn’t-get-girl or girl-realizes-she’s just-fine-on-her-own-and-doesn’t-need-to-waste-time-chasing-after-unobtainable-men. The only type of endings I can’t stand are those that don’t follow from the set-up in the rest of the book, those that are too convenient, and those that are utterly bleak, mean-spirited, or promote the idea that life is a miserable hell and humans are irredeemable. Tracee: Anna Karenina gets a pass. It was a tragedy from start to finish, so no one could have expected anything less than a sad ending. I don’t need a neatly wrapped happy ending (a la Jane Austin with wedding bells and applause) but I do like a sense of completion. Preferably not a grim one. I think that when you write a series you almost have to commit to an ending that provides some sort of hope for the future, or the hero/heroine would always start the next book arising from the ashes of tragedy. Perhaps once in a while you can get away with it, but rarely, I think. Now that you’ve suggested it, in the future I will aim for a mix of delight and dangle as the characters move from the edge of devastation in the next to end pages! Robin: I’m a dangler. The closure of a tidy ending is satisfying, like Sue Grafton’s method of using the report submission style, but an artfully crafted dangle stays with me longer. I’ll ponder the continuing lives of the characters. I lean towards dangling in my own work, too. Besides being fun to read, the resolution-but-not-necessarily-an-ending is also fun to write. Paula (Munier, our occasional Miss Demeanor): I like happy endings, or, failing that, hopeful endings. No “Life is shit” endings for me. Susan: I like it when I don’t see an ending coming. Too often I feel like I know from the first chapter how it’s all going to wind up. I also love the sort of ending that makes me sit and think for a while. I’ve always loved the ending of To Kill a Mockingbird because it’s so emotional and yet restrained. I’ve often pictured Atticus sitting there, waiting for his son to wake up. How different it would be if she showed  Jeb tapdancing the next day. Cate: I like “life is complicated” endings.   

French Comfort Food, by Hillary Davis, one of my favorite cookbooks,    How would you like a buttery grilled cheese sandwich filled with Cheddar cheese, tomatoes, and bacon right now? Or perhaps a tuna melt on rye bulging with melted Gruyere? Maybe a plate of creamy macaroni and a combination of three cheeses, not one? Too plebian? We could add chunks of lobster.            Not feeling savory at the moment? Could I get you a plate of warm chewy chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven? Or a piece of apple pie with feathery light flaky crust? No? I could dish up a piece of moist golden cake with homemade chocolate buttercream frosting if you’d prefer.            If you aren’t hungry by now, you may not be human. Just the very description of these foods, often categorized as “comfort food” is enough to make a reader salivate, which is why most readers and writers are captivated by food in stories. Food helps to create atmosphere and lends authenticity to an environment. I defy you to read Barbara Ross’s Maine Clambake series and not crave lobster. When Stone Barrington cuts into a steak at the legendary, now defunct, Elaine’s in Stuart Woods’ wildly popular series, most readers find their mouths mysteriously open.            Food enhances reading. Food enriches writing. Food brings joy to life. Cozy mystery writers have long understood this. Joanne Fluke (Blueberry Pie Murder), Diane Mott Davidson (Sticks and Scones), Lucy Burdette (Killer Takeout), and Edith Maxwell (When the Grits Hit the Fan) all have written popular series with variations in food themes.            Other mystery subgenres feature food regularly. Olivier cooks up a gastronomic storm at his bistro in Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series, while Clara serves comfort food to friends at her kitchen table. From Steak Frites with Mayonnaise to Coq Au Vin with a Hint of Maple, readers feast on Canadian specialties when not merely content to munch on a steady diet of buttery croissants.            Readers, myself included, have been driven to patronize restaurants featured in books. Margaret Truman’s books enticed me to try the old Le Lion D’Or in Washington D.C. when my daughter was in college there. My husband didn’t get it, especially when the tab arrived. He was on board when we headed to a Spanish restaurant in Harvard Square where William Tapply had his protagonist, Brady Coyne frequenting.            Writers use food more than gratuitously. It can be part of the plot as in Tana French’s recent release, The Trespasser, where a romantic dinner prepared by the murder victim but never shared, became an integral part of the story.            In Permanent Sunset, I chose the bride’s choice of her wedding menu as a window into her soul. I later used the wedding meal, which was never served to guests due to the untimely death of the bride, to color a police officer corrupt and to paint a portrait of the surviving family members.            I happen to love writing about food, possibly because I love reading about it (I own a few hundred cookbooks and this is after “downsizing”), only slightly less than cooking it. For me, it is as much pleasure deciding what to serve my characters as it is what to serve guests in my home. I recently created a meatloaf dinner for my grieving protagonist, which she quite enjoyed.            Fortunately, calories don’t count when you are writing about food. Only pleasure. What brings you please when you read or write about food?                       Dessert from Hillary Davis