Miss Demeanors

This past week I flew from my apartment in New York City to my dad’s house in Salt Lake. I spent most of the flight writing, but when I came up against a brick wall in the story I’m working on, I looked out the window. There was nothing but blue sky and these beautiful cotton ball clouds. The white puffs were all the more intriguing to me because they floated with expanses of sky between them.  The more I write, the more I find myself paying attention to the space between things: the pauses between sentences, the blank page between one chapter and the next. In a world where speed is frequently considered an unmitigated good, reading and writing remind me that there’s a lot to be said for the silence before and after a thought.  When I read a good mystery or thriller, it’s that space that lets me feel the weight of my fear, anxiety, dread and hope. The writers I admire most use their pauses well. Sometimes I rush to turn the page because I just can’t stand not knowing what’s going to happen next. Sometimes I need a few moments to figure things out. Sometimes I just want to savor the words.  I like the nothingness between the something. I think maybe that’s the secret pleasure to reading. We can stop and give ourselves time whenever we want, for whatever reason. We can stop and enjoy the space between things.  

  Michele: I’m always fascinated by photos of where people write. Even better, I love to visit actual locations of authors. The Mark Twain House is one of my favorites. I asked my fellow Miss Demeanors to share where they write. I’ve included my own writing spots. One is in St. John; the others are in my she-shed writing sanctuary on Cape Cod.   Tracee: I split my time between my office, where I have a big computer monitor and face away from the window to avoid distractions, and outside on my front porch, where the view is lovely and calm. I tend to think of indoor work as the nuts and bolts of entering changes to the manuscript or fact-checking. The boring stuff. I prefer the porch unless the rain is blowing too hard or it is literally freezing. I’m fortunate that I’m well back from the street so it feels like an oasis, a perfect place to let my mind wander. It also helps that the dogs get to be outside….  Paula: I recently converted what was once a back porch into my new creativity space, which gives me room for reading and daydreaming on the daybed (which also serves as a guest bed in a pinch), as well as for writing (I sit cross-legged on the daybed with a lap desk and my laptop). I also have enough room for yoga and meditation. All of these things — reading, daydreaming, writing, doing yoga and meditating — are critical to my writing process.   Cate: The view from my writing space, as long as it’s sunny. When I look up from the computer, I like to see something pretty.   Alexia:  I write in a variety of places: airports, airplanes, hotels, coffee shops, home, etc. I bought a membership in a co-working space so I’d have someplace near home to write when home felt too distracting. My only essential elements are paper and pen for writing, laptop, internet access, and a power cord for editing. Alison: What a good question! I really don’t need anything except for my computer. I’ll write in bed, at a park or on a plane. Having said that, I like to work at a standing desk (aka a dresser I’ve stacked two thick books on top of so my computer is at exactly the right height for me) with my “view” from the back of our apartment in Manhattan.   Susan: This is the view from my office window. (It’s no wonder I keep writing about oak trees!)    Where do you like to write or read? Post your photos. I’ll send a free copy of Permanent Sunset, the second book in my Sabrina Salter series to Miss Demeanors’ favorite photo! (Must post by midnight, Sunday, July 23rd)

 I was just sitting on a neighbor’s porch late one lazy Saturday afternoon this summer with a group of other neighbors. We were chatting, watching people saunter by when a young girl, around eight or nine years old walked down the lane carrying a book half the size of her. People who are lugging books around with them always interest me, but a child this age intrigued me. I was tempted to call out, “Hey, what are you reading?” but then I noticed she kept turning around, as if she was waiting for someone to catch up with her. Remembering how my own children didn’t like to be the focus of adult attention at that age, I reconsidered saying anything to her that might embarrass and discourage her admirable reading habits. She turned the corner and I was satisfied just to know there was at least one budding reader out there.            I went back to the adult conversation, lost in the banter about the latest political folly, when I heard the barrel deep voice of a man thundering outside. “Zoey! Zoey, you come right back here. Right now. This minute.” I crooked my neck to see a large middle-aged man with a Johnny Walker-red face strutting past the porch and around the corner.            “Don’t make me come after you,” he said. I feared for Zoey if she didn’t obey him, but more if she did.            “I just want to go to my special place and read,” she said, slowly approaching the corner where he now stood, planted like a prison guard.            “I don’t care what you want to do. You come back here.”            “I just want to read my book,” she said with quiet defiance. But he won, and she followed behind him, clutching her book to her chest, her chinned bowed down.            I learned from my friends that Zoey was part of a large clan that was having a noisy, chaotic barbecue that evening and that her “special place” was a quiet nook where three bunk beds had been built, one on top of another.            Zoey has stayed with me for a couple of weeks now. Not in my home, but definitely within my heart. I ache for the young reader who simply needed to escape from raucous social event and to retreat into a spot where she could crawl into her book. How many times when stuck in a social situation have I said to myself, I just want to crawl into bed with my book?            It’s like that for many of us. Readers who as children didn’t care if the book was too heavy or the words too long. Books were our friends.  If you were lucky, like I was, there was an adult nurturing your love of books, not a book brut, chastising it. When I was a child, I would visit my grandmother each summer at the seashore. I’d arrive as soon as school was out. “Nanna” would take me to the library and let me take out as many books as they would allow. We’d return to her screen porch filled with the smell of the ocean where she’d point to a cushioned daybed piled with pillows. “You go start one of those books while I get you a lemonade. You worked so hard this year in school, dear, you need to rest and read.”  Nanna didn’t think I needed her permission to read. To her, it was like a medical prescription, essential for health.            Before you can be a writer, you have to be a reader, and I thank Nanna for taking my hand and walking me through the door to the library. I hope for Zoey and children everywhere, a nurturing adult is serving you words next to your vegetables and yogurt. The world needs readers and writers.            Who nurtured you as a young reader?  Was it the door to becoming a writer?   

 The lovely ladies of Miss Demeanors have asked me to talk a bit about my main character, Oakland PD Homicide Sergeant Matt Sinclair. I can tell you he’s the most tenacious (stubborn), confident (arrogant), and methodical (obstinate) detective in the department. He’s in his late thirties, six-feet tall, dark brown hair, slim, athletic build, and dark, piercing eyes. The media loves him because he tells it the way it is, and the department brass hates him for the same reason, although they reluctantly put up with him because he solves the city’s toughest cases, even though he often leaves a wake of destruction behind him. He’s always getting into shootouts, fistfights, and car chases, and continually being called into the police chief’s office. Oh, wait! You don’t want to hear about Matt’s crime-fighting skills, the guns he carries, or the fast cars he drives? You want to know about Matt’s love life, you say. Matt would rather take on a bank robbery in progress without back up than talk about his relationships. In this area, Matt’s still a work in progress. Red Line, the first book in the series, opens with Matt returning to Homicide after a six-month suspension for wrecking a city car when driving drunk. He’s divorced, getting accustomed to a new partner (a no-nonsense woman), trying to stay sober, and seeing Liz Schueller, a sexy, blonde TV reporter, who uses him as her source for the inside scoop on Oakland’s murders. In return, Matt gets celebrity exposure on the nightly news, as well as…other benefits. Talking about the other benefits—after Matt takes care of business at the first murder scene, he visits Liz’s apartment for a steamy sex scene—literally steamy because Matt joins Liz in the shower.    Although many male readers were disappointed to learn that Liz left Oakland for an anchor position in Chicago at the end of the first book. What’s not to love about a woman who worked her way through college as a lingerie model and enjoys sex, right guys? However, the more astute female readers recognized Liz was not good for Matt.   In Thrill Kill, the second book in the series, Matt’s partner, Cathy Braddock, uses a ruse to get Matt to the county hospital where ER nurse, Alyssa Morelli, is working. When Matt sees her, the tough detective’s knees nearly give out on him. Ten years earlier he and Alyssa went out a few times, but she dumped him, knowing the hard-drinking, hard-living, long-haired undercover narc that he was at the time, was not boyfriend material. Alyssa had married a doctor, but that didn’t work out when she realized making babies and living the country club lifestyle wasn’t for her, so she returns to the ER, where life had purpose. Once Cathy drags Matt away from Alyssa, she says, “Like the rest of the world, she knows about your divorce, you and Liz, and your pattern of one-night stands. Alyssa is all goodness, and that’s rare in people who deal with the same slime as we do on a daily basis. Don’t disrespect her by using your Sinclair charm on her while you’re dating other women. She’s not just another girl for you to screw and run away from when it gets too real.” Matt remembers following Alyssa, wearing short shorts, up a hiking trail ten years earlier and thinking that although she might be all goodness, as Braddock said, she was still damn sexy. They begin seeing each other, and although Matt makes the effort, Alyssa lets him know she doesn’t sleep with a man until the time is right. I love a happy ending in my books, one where the hero solves the murder, saves the world, and gets the girl in the end. After Matt ended up alone at the end of the first book, I really wanted him to end up with someone in this book. But sadly, Matt wasn’t ready for a nice girl like Alyssa yet. Alyssa returns in Shallow Grave, and Matt is a bit more emotionally mature (although he’s still got a long way to go). There are more murders, high-speed chases, gunfights, and a twisty mystery full of lies and secrets that pushes Matt in a dark abyss. He sinks even lower when the chief strips him of his badge and gun. I’d like to tell you that Alyssa is there for him, but that would spoil the ending. Shallow Grave will be released on July 11, 2017.  BRIAN THIEM is the author of RED LINE, THRILL KILL, and SHALLOW GRAVE. He retired as a Lieutenant from Oakland PD, after years as a homicide detective and homicide unit commander. He’s also an Iraqi War veteran and retired from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel. He has an MFA in Creative Writing and lives in Hilton Head, SC. www.brianthiem.com   Michele Dorsey from Miss Demeanors:   I am a huge fan of Brian Thiem’s police procedural series and want Matt Sinclair to have a solid and happy relationship!  Do we have any advice to help  Matt Sinclair with his love life?

  I held a book signing last night to celebrate Death in D Minor’s official release day on July 11. Ghosts play important roles in my novels but none showed up for the party. Their loss. The shrimp and grits and the brisket were to die for. In honor of my second book’s entry into the world, I posed a paranormal question to my fellow MissDemeanors. What’s your favorite ghost/scary story?(Alternate question for those who don’t like spooky stuff: Why don’t you like spooky stuff?) Cate Holahan:First off, I will admit that I believe in spirits.  My mom is Jamaican, a culture in which the belief in “duppies,” aka ghosts, is pretty prevalent. As a result, I don’t feel that strange about it. According to family lore, I could see them as a kid (though I might simply have enjoyed telling stories, even then). Plus, I was raised Catholic and believe people have souls that pass on to another plane of existence, so why wouldn’t one or two occasionally drop in?  All that said, I LOVE a good ghost story. I read R.L Stein’s Goosebumps religiously growing up and in a Dark Dark Room by Alvin Schwartz. The one that freaked me out the most was definitely the girl with the ribbon around her neck… let’s just say I wish she didn’t untie that ribbon.  As for present day, my new favorite ghost stories would have to be yours Alexia. I like to think that if any ghost talked to me today, I’d handle it with as much aplomb as Gethsemane.(AG: I didn’t put her up to saying that) Susan Breen:My favorite ghost story is “Afterward” by Edith Wharton. I love that story so much that for years I had my students read it, though I have to confess no one liked it as much as I did, except for one woman, who became a dear friend. I’ve never seen a ghost myself, but I can believe that a person torn away from this life suddenly might leave a part of himself behind. Often I’ve put some sort of supernatural thing in my writing. Michele Dorsey:Generally, I don’t like spooky stuff. Years ago, I read ghost stories to my daughter’s overnight camp companions and scared myself more than them. Then I had the unfortunate experience of reading a very good book while I was bedridden with the flu and was pleasantly distracted by good writing and a great plot. Until I reached the last few pages and the hero walked through a door. I mean through a door. And then some weird twisted ending took place as I threw (and this time I do mean “threw”) the book across the room. I felt cheated by the author who gave no warning of this dimension of the story and it has had me creeped out about fantasy, etc. ever since. But if fairly warned, I’m okay with ghostly stories, and yours, Alexia are gems.       I admit I have had a few “spiritual” moments where I’ve felt the presence of someone no longer with us. Interestingly, the two times I have traveled to Ireland I have felt a presence when I am near ancient stone formations. Another time was during shivasana  (the corpse pose) when I was on my yoga mat. Paula Munier:I admit that ghost stories scare me. But I like them anyway. I had an idea for writing my own ghost story once–long forgotten now–and so I read several. I remember the ones that scared me the most were Stephen King’s Bag of Bones and Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. So much so that I abandoned ghost stories altogether until I read Alexia’s work. Now I’m hooked on ghost stories again!(AG: I didn’t put her up to it, either) Tracee de Hahn:I’ve never liked scary stories but that may be because my early grade school baby sitter used to watch the Friday night horror movie with me. I apparently didn’t have nightmares (although there was the unfortunate one about the bodies buried under the house and the ghost looked EXACTLY like my mother. When she came in that night to check on me I was frozen with fear. I never told her since I didn’t want to get my sitter in trouble for letting me stay up late and watch TV).  Growing up I didn’t believe in the paranormal but I also didn’t object to people believing in it/them. That changed when, during a visit home from college, I saw an apparition in my childhood home and it scared me literally stiff for hours. Since then I won’t discount anything. Your Gethsemane books may convert me to being a ghost story reader…. can’t wait to dive into book two this week! Robin Stuart:I love ghost stories, reading them and writing/telling them. The Shining by Stephen King is one of my all-time favorites. I read it in one sitting when I was 12 or 13, much to my parents’ dismay – I stayed up all night to finish it, too scared to sleep. That made a huge impression on me. I wanted to be able to do that, to evoke such strong reactions from my words alone. Hunting for ghosts in machines is one of the things that drew me to cyber forensics. It often feels like a real-life episode of Scooby Doo, an early ghost story influence, where my team and I unmask villains pretending to be something or someone they’re not. What’s your favorite scary story?