Mystery-minded

Hannah dives into murder -- but will tropical paradise prove to be her last resort?

May 1 marks the publication of the eighth installment in my Hannah Ives mystery series, WITHOUT A GRAVE.  Those of you who have been following my blog -- sorry, I've been so lax in my blogging recently! -- know that Barry and I have been spending approximately three months of every year in the Bahamas.  Naturally, I couldn't resist the temptation to set a novel there.  

Hannah’s in paradise, enjoying the active, back-to-basics rhythms of Bahamian island life.  When controversy arises over the construction of a luxury resort that could devastate the coral reef, Hannah dives in.  Acts of vandalism, a deadly wildfire, a missing scientist – Hannah suspects a connection, but her investigation stalls when hurricane Helen slams into the island.  Before the skies clear, a dynasty is threatened by a venomous sibling rivalry, environmentalists face off against progressive island fathers, and somebody else will die.

Gin-clear waters, sand so white you’re blinded by the glare, palms rustling in a tropical breeze.  Paradise?  Sometimes it’s just an illusion.

To ease you into a tropical mood, try a:

 "Hurricane Hannah"

2 oz Light rum

 2 oz Blue Curacao

 1 oz Sweet and sour mix

 3 oz Pineapple juice

Add all ingredients to cocktail shaker containing a generous amount of crushed ice and shake well.  Strain into a glass. Decorate with cherry, pineapple slice and paper umbrella.  Shark optional.  

Enjoy while reading.

Steps to the Cure

I don’t often watch reality shows on TV – except for research, of course.  I got thoroughly sucked into “Dancing with the Stars” while I was gathering background material for Hannah’s latest adventure, Dead Man Dancing, but how was I to know that I’d soon be swept completely and thoroughly into the one reality show of which I am an enormous (and closet!) fan – Bravo’s Project Runway.You know the show. Hosted by supermodel Heidi Klum, twelve contestants mentored by Tim Gunn compete to create fashions, usually to a theme, and with restrictions on budget, time and materials.  Judges include show regulars Klum, American designer Michael Kors, Elle editor-at-large Nina Garcia and a fourth ‘wild card’ like a fashion designer or a celebrity.  The field is narrowed to three (sometimes four) finalists, who prepare a complete fashion collection to be presented at prestigious NY Fashion Week in Bryant Park. 

But only one can be the winner. 

Last year’s winner of Project Runway was Christian Siriano. And it was Christian -- an Annapolis, Maryland native, by the way, who started out designing hair at the Annapolis Bubbles Salon -- who the Larry and Lori Lickstein Foundation tapped as MC for their inaugural fundraiser, Steps to the Cure.

Shattering the image of a traditional fundraiser, this progressive, arts-driven event benefited the distinct needs of Maryland breast cancer patients, thousands of whom are helped every year through the Maryland Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure®, Fuchsia Foundation, Kids Konnected, and The Red Devils.

I was one of 29 survivor/models who claimed the catwalk at Baltimore’s amazing American Visionary Art Museum one recent October evening, wearing a unique gown created for me by designer Gabrielle Jolly, one of the students hand-selected to design for the event from the Maryland Institute College of Art. Here's a picture of me with Gabe and the other model she designed for, Amy Funk.

My day as a model began with makeup and a new hairdo courtesy of The Edge Studio, a trendy spa on Bank Street in Baltimore.  An hour later, as is often the case with the models on the TV show, I was being sewn into my gown.

Nevertheless, when I struck a pose behind the Project Runway silhouette screen  

awaiting my 28 seconds of fame on the runway – walk-walk-pause-hip-hip-turn -- I felt like a movie star!

 

Note the necklace.  On loan from Radcliffe Jewelers of Pikesville, the two gorgeous strands of perfectly-matched south sea island pearls, garnets and diamonds bore a $35,000 price tag, more than my new car.  As Christian Siriano remarked as the last of us disappeared backstage after our final fashion parade, “There’s a security guard back there, waiting to take back the jewelry.”

Happily, I get to keep the gown.         

Fabulous food, an open bar, an amazing goody bag, and free shoes from Oka b topped the evening.

For the curious, here’s more about Steps to the Cure from B and from the Baltimore Sun.

Photos courtesy of author Kate Charles, who looked equally smashing at the event, wearing an original jacket by Annapolis designer, Ahni. 

 

 

 

Launch at the Castle

Never in my wildest I’ve-Always-Wanted-to-be-a-Published-Author dreams did it ever occur to me that I’d one day be signing books at a castle! But that’s exactly what happened last month when Dead Man Dancing made its UK debut at historic Ludlow Castle in Shropshire. 

Thanks to the efforts of dear friend and fellow author, Kate Charles, bookseller Stanton Stevens of Castle Bookshop, and Lizzie Hayes from Mystery Women, CrimeFest at the Castle was a sell-out.  Over one hundred people paid five pounds each for admission (to include a glass of wine) to hear a panel of crime novelists discuss their work -- Kate, Phil Rickman, Caro Peacock, Rebecca Tope, Priscilla Masters, Andrew Taylor, Anne Perry, Deborah Crombie and me.  I’m still pinching myself.

Castles are hard to find in Maryland, so the US launch of the latest in my Hannah Ives mystery series will be a bit more low-key.  I will have several book-signing parties at some of my favorite mystery bookstores.  The first is 6 – 8 pm on Monday, October 13 at Mystery Loves Company in Baltimore, MD where my friends, Deborah Crombie and Kate Charles will be joining me.  The second begins at 6 pm on Friday, October 31 at Mystery Lovers Bookshop in Oakmont, PA as Cornelia Biddle, Donna Andrews, Ellen Crosby and I help Richard and Mary Alice Gorman celebrate Halloween and their store’s eighteenth birthday.  (Come check out the Halloween hat I bought at Aurora Gallery especially for this occasion!)  And for my hometown friends, please mark your calendars for the gala Annapolis launch party at 7:30 pm on Thursday, Nov. 6 at the Barnes and Noble in Annapolis Harbour Center.

If you can’t make a signing, autographed copies can be ordered from a fine Independent Bookstore near you, like my good friends at Mystery Loves Company, Mystery Lovers Bookshop, Creatures and Crooks, or The Poisoned Pen.  You can also pre-order copies from Amazon or Barnes and Noble; they tell me books will be shipping soon.

Dead Man Dancing is a first-edition hardcover, so you'll be doing a kind deed for me—and a lot of other people—if you request that your local library order a copy for their mystery collections. A trade paperback edition should be released in the spring of 2009. 

And since some of you have asked, allow me to mention that my next Hannah Ives mystery will be set in the Bahamas.  Golly.  Research can be hell.

In the meantime, enjoy Dead Man Dancing, and know how grateful Hannah and I are for your support.

Blame It All on Nancy Drew

I come from a long line of frugal New Englanders, so it’s no surprise that I tend to drive my cars until they practically disintegrate in my driveway. Thus, it was a sad, sad day when I waved goodbye to my beloved 1994 Chrysler LeBaron – which was crying out for its third transmission in almost as many years – as it was hauled away on a flatbed truck by a nice guy from Purple Heart. To replace it, I did my research, reading Consumer Reports and doing comparisons on the Internet before turning up at a local VW dealership looking to test drive a VW Eos convertible. “I want it in blue,” I told the salesman, Keith, but there was no blue model on the lot. “The paprika red is hot,” Keith said. “You can drive that baby away today.” I shook my head. He tried again, “Candy white? Island gray?”

I was in the middle of telling Keith why color was a deal breaker – it was going to be blue or nothing – when it suddenly occurred to me why the color was important. Blame it on Nancy Drew. She drove a snappy blue roadster, and so, doggonit, would I.

How is it that a series of novels that debuted in 1930 – decades before I was born -- have such an influence on me as a young girl that I became not only a rabid reader of mysteries, but a mystery novelist as well? How to explain why I was sitting in a squeaky leather chair, pouting until I got to drive off in a car just like Nancy’s? Another famous Nancy said it far better than I in the preface to the facsimile edition of The Hidden Staircase, "I Owe It All to Nancy Drew."

Statistics indicate that our nation’s children are spending less time reading and more time watching television or playing video games. This is alarming for many reasons, not the least being this – if there is going to be an audience in future for the kind of books we write, we need to start cultivating that audience today. That’s why I rarely turn down the opportunity to speak to children and young adults, in schools and libraries, and for community groups like the Girl Scouts. The kids I’ve met may be spending a lot of time in front of a television or computer screen, but I’ve found that they’re endlessly fascinated by mysteries, too.

This spring I was giving a talk during “Career Day” to a group of seventy 5th graders, and I asked how many of them had seen the television program CSI. Papers on the librarian’s desk fluttered as nearly every hand shot up. At a high school in my husband’s home town the English and Science departments collaborated on a joint study unit, “Forensic Science in Literature.” I was the literature half of the program. And on a balmy autumn weekend in San Diego, I gave the keynote address for a brilliantly organized Girl Scout sleepover that included a hands-on CSI workshop -- crime scene, evidence specimens, microscopes, white lab coats and all – followed by a mystery-writing workshop.

In my opinion, no better example of reaching out to kids about the love of reading a mystery can be found than the post-Bouchercon 2007 Authors to the Schools program sponsored by the Alaska chapter of Sisters in Crime. I was greeted like a rock star in Seward, where over the course of two days, I spoke to classes in the elementary, middle and high schools as well as doing an evening presentation for adults at the Seward Public Library. You know what? The kids were just as fascinated by tales of mystery, adventure, intrigue, justice and revenge as the adults, perhaps more so.

On the Monday, I took my talk “The Mind of a Mystery Writer” (illustrated with Power Point slides) to an auditorium of bright and attentive teens at Seward High School, answered their questions and worked with them as they penned their own mysteries. The following day, I visited the middle school. The students were enthusiastic and extremely well prepared for my visit; no surprise, as one of their teachers, Laura Beck, had just been voted Alaska Teacher of the Year.

Finally, I visited Seward elementary school where I did presentations for both the 5th and 6th grades classes, ending with a lively discussion initiated by the 5th graders on murder mysteries I could set in Seward based on either the Jesse Lee Home, an orphanage ruined in the earthquake and rumored to be haunted; or, a woman murdered in a bathtub (was she stabbed? shot? strangled? the stories varied) at Seward’s Van Gilder hotel.

And I’m thinking, hmmm, why not?

Remember that line in the 1989 Kevin Costner flick, Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come?” The same could be said about mysteries. J.K. Rowling turned millions of children on to reading with the adventures of Harry Potter, and if standing in line for hours in order to be the first kid on your block to read a book that’s more 700 pages long doesn’t prove that if you give kids good books, they will read them, I don’t know what does.

If we write them, they will come.

Do you need a gift for a youngster? Remember the solve-it-yourself mysteries featuring Leroy "Encyclopedia" Brown, the boy detective? For middle school children, how about Mary Stuart’s classic, The Moonspinners; or The Name of the Game was Murder by Joan Lowrey Nixon; or, Ellen Raskin’s The Westing Game. And for the high school crowd, you couldn’t do better than to recommend Josephine Tey’s timeless classic, Daughter of Time; Margaret Maron’s Bootlegger’s Daughter; or, She Walk These Hills by Sharyn McCrumb. And Agatha Christie, too, of course.

My recent stint as an Edgar judge for the juvenile mystery category made it clear that authors are still turning out such masterpieces, tomorrow’s classics like the books among this year’s Edgar award nominees.

or those that were nominated for an Agatha in the same category.

The Night Tourist by Katherine Marsh is a real stunner.

So the next time someone asks you to speak to a group of school-age children or young adults, say ‘yes.’ It’s not as hard as you think. Just like their parents, kids want to know ‘where do you get your ideas?’ and are fascinated when you talk about the whole creative process, from the germ of an idea up through publication. At one presentation, a bright-eyed 4th grader examined in amazement the marked-up, copyedited manuscript I’d brought along. “You mean grownups don’t get it perfect the first time either?”

And soon, there may be another resource to help you. Sisters in Crime is in the process of gathering different curricula and determining the best format in which to present them. Once they’re ready, we'll have a place on-line for members to pick up super, tried-and-true teaching ideas.

While I still love to talk to libraries, private book groups, and women’s professional organizations, kids remain my favorite audience. As one 4th grader wrote, “Thank you for coming to our school, Mrs. Talley. I learned that you don’t have to be a grownup to write mysteries.”

Thank you, Brittany. I couldn’t have said it any better.

Originally published on the Sisters in Crime website, July 21, 2008.

Writing in Paradise

My friend, mystery novelist Elaine Viets who lives there, says that Ft. Lauderdale is the farthest south you can live and still get meaningful work done. I’ve checked the maps, and my present location, 26° 35.51 N, 77° 00.36 W to be precise, is exactly 28 minutes of latitude — approximately 32 miles — north of Elaine’s condo in Lauderdale, so as a novelist, I figure I’m safe, but it’s not always easy writing while living in paradise.

We’re in a rented house on Dickie’s Cay, a tiny strip of land that forms the harbor that protects Man-o-War Cay, a settlement of boat-builders and church-going people with a year-round population of approximately 150. There’s a hardware store —“if we don’t have it, you don’t need it” — where items that went on the shelf twenty years ago are still for sale, with their original price tags. There’s one sit-down restaurant — best hamburgers in the world at the Hibiscus, my husband says — a couple of gift shops, a sailmaker’s shop where four ladies sit at ancient sewing machines turning out the most beautiful and practical canvas bags, and two groceries that don’t sell cigarettes or booze. No law against it, they simply don’t. Albury’s Harbour Market, where I shop, is the size of your average two-car garage, but I can’t think of anything that Phyllis doesn’t have — even half-and-half! — in that tiny, neat-as-a-pin store. I shop, she puts it on our tab, and we pay up at the end of the month. With a tab, I feel like I really belong.

No TV, no daily newspaper. There are no ATMs, the bank is open on Tuesdays from 10 to 2, and few cars. Rush hour is two golf carts meeting on The Queen’s Highway, an eight foot wide strip of concrete that bisects the narrow island.
There are no roads where we are on Dickie’s Cay, and our family “car” is an Avon dinghy — to go shopping or to eat out, we walk out to the end of the pier, climb down a wooden ladder, fire up the outboard and putt-putt across to Man-o-War.

On the porch of “Tradewinds” where I’m sitting right now riding a rogue wireless signal — thank you, whoever you are! — I’m finishing up my next Hannah novel, Dead Man Dancing, drinking a cup of coffee, and watching the sun come up. Just a few minutes ago, the first boat of the day came by, filled with Haitians from Marsh Harbour who come here every day to work building boats and houses, doing yard work, anything to earn a few dollars to send back to their families in Haiti. They are a friendly, hard-working people who often spend their lunch hours reading passages from the Bible aloud, and seem delighted when I speak to them in my passable French.

I’ve adopted a cat, “Dickie,” who showed up one day so hungry that he ate plain, cold spaghetti and bits of garlic bread. We don’t know what happened to his family, but he may be a boat cat who fell overboard and swam ashore. We’re feeding him to help protect the local bird population. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

And speaking of birds, as I was writing yesterday a hummingbird whizzed by like a giant wasp, reversed suddenly and hovered just two feet in front of my face, wings a blur. I’d seen hummingbirds visiting the yellow flowers on the oleander in the garden, but I couldn’t figure out what drew this little fellow to me, until I realized that on his side of my computer screen there is a brightly-lit white apple.

A sudden rainstorm followed by a rainbow, a sunset that sets the horizon ablaze, a tiger cat purring for the first time in who knows how long nestled against your side, and a hummingbird checking you out. As I said, there are distractions while working in paradise, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Originally published in The Lipstick Chronicles, February 2, 2008

We've been elfed!

Perhaps it's all the hectic preparation for Christmas that's gotten to me, or the fast-approaching deadline for the new Hannah Ives mystery, Dead Man Dancing, but at my house, it's silly season.  Exhibit A:  Marcia and Barry Get Elfed

Have a wonderous, safe and blessed holiday!  The next time I post, it will be from Man of War Cay in the Abacos, Bahamas, where the weather is warm, but it's not hard to get into the spirit of the holidays where poinsettias grow wild like this.

Elementary, my dear, uh, Barry?

On Sunday, December 9, Barry and I were part of a fabulous fundraiser for the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra called READ BETWEEN THE WINES – an afternoon of wine, cheese and mystery and romance writers.  Thirteen authors and a several hundred guests gathered in the atrium of Annapolis’ elegant Loews Hotel where each author was interviewed by Barry who’d been sweet-talked by You-Know-Who into volunteering as Master of Ceremonies. Tons of books were sold by Mystery Loves Company, our favorite independent bookstore, whose owner, Kathy Harig, generously donated twenty percent of sales to the Symphony.  Wine supplied by Mills Fine Wine & Spirits flowed freely, and a good time was had by all.

Several weeks before the event, Barry and I met a photographer at Galway Bay where I donned a trench coat, pulled on a pair of fishnet hose, and agreed to a publicity shot which made it into both the Capital and the Washington Post. 

Meanwhile Barry … well, just take a look. 

Thanks to my author friends – Donna Andrews, Ellen Crosby, Mary Ellen Hughes, Maria Lima, Clyde Linsley, Sally Mackenzie, Katherine Neville, Sandra Parshall, Mary Jo Putney, Lucia St Clair Robson, Daniel Stashower, and Tracy Anne Warren -- for donating their time and their talents to make this event a whopping success!  I urge you to buy their books early and often.

North to Alaska!

An Alaska Diary

Tuesday.  Bouchercon, a.k.a. The World Mystery Conference, was held this year in Anchorage, and since I’d never been to Alaska, I was eager to go.  After what seemed like an endless plane ride, connecting through Minneapolis, I arrived in Anchorage mid-afternoon on Tuesday, checked into the Hilton, and began lookin’ round.

Alaska is due north of Hawaii (!) but appears to be 4 hours ahead of the East Coast and in its own time zone, called the Alaska Time Zone, so we're on AKDT.  The sun set around 7:30 last night, but at 7 a.m. this morning, it’s still pitch dark outside and dawn is a l-o-n-g time coming. The St Laurence Islands and the Aleutians are on the same time zone as Hawaii, but do not practice daylight savings time, so they are currently two hours ahead of the rest of Alaska, and an hour ahead of Hawaii. All of which explains my confusion about where to set my watch.

Anchorage is built on a flat plain near the harbor, with wide straight roads. There are some skyscrapers in the city, primarily hotels, but most of the city consists of two and three story businesses, giving the place a small-town feel. It's industrial, too -- tankers coming and going, railroad yards, warehouses, factories and processing plants. At the airport, more than half of the planes coming in and out are cargo planes. All night, I heard the train whistles moaning, a sound that this l'il ole Midwesterner finds comforting.

We are framed by spectacular mountains in the Chugach Range, more than 13,000 feet high. Most of the early conference arrivals are here to take advantage of the tours, like one that goes to 21 glaciers, or the Kenai fjords boat trip which is on my agenda for Wednesday.

Dinner my first night was at Phyllis' Cafe and Salmon Bake a couple of blocks from the Hilton, opposite JC Penny. Formica tables and 50s-style chrome, Phyllis's pegs low on the ambiance meter, unless you're a fan of over-the-sofa-sized wildlife paintings of wolves, sled dogs, grizzlies and Eskimo. Dinners were “moderately” priced in the mid-20s, the halibut I had was fresh and delicious, and although they had a monster "early bird" snow crab special — tempting! — I simply didn't have the strength to wrestle with my food. SJ Rozan and I dined with James Sallis and his wife, both from Phoenix.

Off now to find coffee at the Kobuk Coffee Company; highly recommended by my cab driver. There is a Starbucks in the hotel, but that's, like, so ordinary.

Wednesday.  If folks in Anchorage start their workday before ten, they do so without coffee from Kobuk’s. Long before sunup, I trudged out in a light drizzle only to discover that Kobuk does not open until ten.  Later in the day I went back and had a truly splendid cup of cappuccino (TIP: head for the back of the store) and also purchased my “what did you bring me, grandma?” souvenirs at their wonderful native-craft gift shop.

After pocketing my credit card, I hustled off for my first program, a panel on staying alive in this crazy business where I shared the dais with Charlaine Harris and Thomas Perry.  Long-time friend, Charlaine, told me about “a shop that is YOU, Marcia,” so I just had to visit Pia Sweaters, where they sell the most outrageously beautiful Icelandic sweaters and coats. You can see the result in the Kenai snapshot below.  In town for less than 24 hours, and the credit card is already getting a workout.

Dinner tonight was with my long-lost cousins — honest.  I hadn’t seen Jake Tuckerman and his younger brother, Murray (sons of my mother’s older brother, also named Jake) since 1957, so it was a real treat to find them both living in Anchorage.  We had dinner at Simon and Seafort’s where I watched the sun set over Cook Inlet behind Mt. Susitna. Pure magic!

Thursday. Had breakfast with my agent, who is encouraging and supportive in every way, including leading me to a shop she'd discovered (Style of Russia) where I found truly unique souvenirs.  After lunch, I took notes for nearly three-hours at a Sisters in Crime Board meeting, where the discussion was seriously enlivened by passing around a box of Alaska Wild Berry Jelly Center Chocolates — visit their website if you dare! —and a panoramic view of Cook Inlet and the mountains beyond. 

Not having anything I absolutely had to do after that, I went in search of Oomingmak, the Musk Ox Producers' Co-operative.  They organize rural villagers into knitting circles that make scarves and nachaqs out of quiviut, which is musk ox under fur.  Qiviut (pronounced "kiv-ee-ute") is the color of café-au-lait, downy soft, light, and warmer than any other "wool" on the planet.  NOTE:  The hats are w-a-y expensive, but two days later, I was high bidder on one that had been donated to the Bouchercon auction, so I got a hat and helped a good cause, too.

The opening session for the conference began at 6pm, with Anthony award nominees announced.  I was introduced as one of 29 authors who had volunteered to go "to the bush" as part of the Authors in the Schools program organized by Alaska Sisters in Crime, chaired by the amazing Anne Rothe. (See below.)  The highlight of the opening session was a welcoming speech by the governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, who is a young, attractive, charming, and very funny woman!  (At least her speechwriter is!) The whole proceedings were then blessed/purified by shaman Kenny Timberwolf Gardner, dressed in robes and fur, carrying an abalone shell of burning sage, the purifying smoke from which he wafted over the crowd with an eagle feather.

We had a full moon tonight over the mountain ... something that really stops your heart ... and impossible to capture on film unless you're, say, Ansel Adams with a $5000 camera.

Friday.  "Achieving Critical Mass," my panel with authors Roberta Isleib, Irene Marcuse, Gayle Wigglesworth, and Rebecca Tope, was surprisingly well-attended.  Apparently the audience had figured out what the topic meant --  where we get our ideas.  I had a quick lunch (gourmet box-type are provided daily as part of our Bouchercon registration), then joined author Roberta Isleib for a bike ride on the amazingly beautiful coastal trail.

Roberta had an appointment, so she reluctantly turned back at the 4.5 mile point, but I continued on to the end, which was about 9 miles, then retraced my steps, for a total of 18 miles. I saw bald eagles, a mother/daughter moose team, birds, spectacular mountains, mudflats, meadows.  The weather was cloudy, but not terrible cold, and I was comfortable the whole time in my silk long johns, turtleneck and a fleece jacket, with gloves and hat. 

Here's a picture of me on the trail at "Hannah Cove"!  The mountain in the background is Mt. Susitna.  You can also see that the tide in Cook Inlet is w-a-y out!  The mud flats are extremely dangerous -- warning signs all over -- like quicksand, I imagine.

The round trip took 3 hours, and I arrived back at the hotel in just enough time to return the bike, shower, change and go to the St Martin's cocktail party, followed by the Berkley party, followed by the Harper/Collins dinner.  Dinner was at the Marx Brothers Café , a fine restaurant in an historic house just half a block from the hotel, small and cosy -- I don't believe they could have had more than 14 tables total.  Seafood was delicious, and I was ravenous after the bike ride.  Good to sit next to my editor, Sarah Durand, and across from Barbara Peters from Poisoned Pen.

Saturday.  Gathered up my aching bones (and sore butt) early this a.m. to have breakfast with Sarah Durand, my editor at Morrow/Avon, and learn what she's up to.  She's been concentrating on tie-ins, i.e. getting people to write novelizations of movies.  Someone I know just did the novelization for the Elizabeth: The Golden Age which is about to be released. Not sure I'd want to do that kind of thing -- VERY short deadlines — but you know me, I’ll try anything once.

This afternoon I'll be sitting in the Mystery News booth for a while, then there is the banquet tonight where the Anthony winners will be announced. Tomorrow I leave for Seward in a rental car.  To show you how small-town it is up here, I'm picking up the car behind somebody's apartment building, the back left door is unlocked, and the key is under the mat.  There is a number to call if I can't find the car, and ask for Rosie.  LOL.

Tuesday.  I'm still in Alaska as part of the "Authors to the Bush Program".  Found a wireless connection at the Seward Community Library and have a free afternoon, so I'm trying to catch up with my email!

Located the rental car without a hitch, and drove the 130 miles to Seward along the most heart-stoppingly beautiful coastal road, stopping so many times to take pictures that it's a wonder I got here at all!  A highlight -- pit stop at Estes Brothers Grocery in Moose Pass for a fine, fine cup of cappuccino. 

The folks here in Seward couldn't be nicer.  Absolutely everything is taken care of by volunteers:  the rental car from the owner of the local Hertz franchise, the B&B from the proprietor, every meal courtesy of the Friends of the Library (dinner last night included the mayor of Seward, Vanta Shafer), volunteer chauffeurs, all organized by the indefatigable Patty Linvale, Director of the Seward Community Library.  My talk at the library was well-attended, even though it conflicted with the annual School Board Meeting, but as one woman told me — ‘they never give us the funding we ask for, anyway, so I’d rather come hear you.’ 

Monday after classes, one of the volunteers drove me up to Exit Glacier, so called because it is the easiest "exit" if you happen to be up on the Harding Icefield.  As if.  The hike to the base of the glacier was releatively effortless, and standing at the foot of this living, breathing, monster ice thing was truly amazing.  It's actually blue!  The trees in the valley below are turning yellow, so you've got these incredible panoramas -- gray of the river bed (almost completely dry at this time of year), yellow trees, evergreens, red moss on the mountains, snow peaks.  Stunning.  Coming down off the mountain, I saw the most incredible rainbow ever -- wide and bright, arching across the mountains.

“Dairy Hill Lodge”, the B&B where I'm staying, has a large room with two double beds, a kitchenette, a sofa and two chairs, and a bath, all in spotless polished pine.  The owner, Kathleen Barkley, has instructed that whenever I leave, I’m to switch on the light and make sure there are no bears on the porch.  That doesn’t happen in Annapolis!  Kathleen and her husband, Jim, also own the Alaska Saltwater Lodge, so if you need a place to stay while visiting Seward, call Kathleen!

But the reason I'm here, is the kids! --  the high school yesterday, the middle school today.  Everyone was so well prepared for my visit; in fact, Laura Beck, the middle school teacher I was working with this morning has just been voted Alaska Teacher of the Year.  How cool is that?

I've just left the elementary school where I did a presentation for both the 5th and 6th grades classes, the last of which was a lively discussion initiated by the 5th graders on murder mysteries I could set in Seward based on 1) an old children's home/TB hospital ruined in the earthquake; 2) a woman murdered in a bathtub (stabbed?  shot?  strangled?  the stories varied) at the Van Gilder hotel. 

I've had a ball, but I am soooo ready for a break after having been on the road for a week!!  Tomorrow is my treat -- the 6 hour cruise on the Kenai Fjords -- and it looks like the weather is going to be sunny and just about perfect.

Wednesday.  Ann Rothe and her husband, Tom, came down to Seward to join me for the six-hour boat trip to the Kenai fjords.  Ann put the whole Authors in the Schools program together, and Tom is Waterfowl Coordinator for the state of Alaska.  What a gorgeous day!  Seals sunning on rocks, the Aialik Glacier "calving" in a major way.   On the way back to Seward, the boat stopped where there is a resident pod of killer whales, but we were stunned to find that instead of one pod, there were many — a once-a-year "super pod" event, orcas, 60-70 in number, swimming, diving and puffing around our boat.  I took a video with my mini-camera, and all you can hear on the soundtrack is me repeating, ‘ohmahgawd, ohmahgawd, I can’t believe it!”

After a delicious seafood dinner in Seward, and an overnight at Ann and Tom’s home in Eagle River, Anne drove me to the airport, just as the sun began to rise, setting the sky on fire.  Alaska’s way of telling me, “You-all come back now, hear?”

The Queen, at your service

Barry and I have just returned to Annapolis after spending the entire month of August away.  We had a blast (see below), but it’s good to be back, to see how much our grandchildren have grown in just six weeks, pet my cat, catch up on some yardwork, cook in my own kitchen … 

Our voyage to England was beyond wonderful!  Thanks to that generous retirement gift from Barry’s former students (36 years worth!) we boarded the Acela for New York City where we stayed at the Waldorf Astoria, ate fabulous food, and saw “Xanadu,” a hysterical new musical based on an outrageously bad movie from 1980 about a painter and his muse (Olivia Newton-John) who find love at a roller disco in Los Angeles.

The New Yorker raved: “so ridiculously brilliant, so lavish and sublime … it’s probably the most fun you’ll have on Broadway this season," and the New York Times called it “heaven on wheels, in leg warmers.”  We couldn’t agree more!  Would love to see it again.

The next day, we were whisked away by shuttle to Brooklyn where we boarded the Queen Mary 2 for a gala seven day, six night crossing to England.  A steward who already knew our names welcomed us to our stateroom (with balcony!) where we found complimentary champagne chilling in a bucket  … from the minute we stepped aboard, it was the royal treatment all the way.   Each night we dined in the elegant Britannia Room where the service was impeccable, the food five-star, and the conversation with our tablemates, stimulating.  Three dinners aboard were drop-dead formal, followed by dancing in the Queens Ballroom.  Barry and I even took ballroom dancing lessons so we could step out in style.  In fact, everything on the Queen Mary 2 is done with style and class; we felt like characters in a play, and loved every minute. I’m afraid the QM2 will spoil us for air travel forever.  Another advantage over flying?  They advance the clocks an hour each day so when you arrive in the UK – no jet lag! 

As retirement gifts go, a cruise on the Queen Mary sure beats the heck out of a gold watch!

On arrival at Southampton we simply walked off the ship, the messy business of customs and immigration having already been accomplished on board by Her Majesty’s Immigration Officer, at sea, somewhere  south of Greenland.  At the terminal were met by sailing friends (Phil and Suzanne Watkins, owners of Tradewinds, the property we rent on Dickies Cay in the Abacos) who whisked us away for a weekend on their 37-foot sailboat, Calypso.  Calypso is moored on the Beaulieu River (that’s “Bew-Lee”), and the Watkins had arranged for perfect weather for some exciting sailing on the Solent, near the Isle of Wight, smack dab in the middle of Cowes Race Week.  After a driving tour of the New Forest ("New?"  It was established by William the Conqueror in 1079), Phil and Sue dropped us off in Portsmouth at the home of our longtime friends Admiral David Bawtree and his wife, Ann, who drove us to London and turned over the key to their London flat on Rampayne Street, just across from the Pimlico tube station. 

In London, we spent a delightful week going to museums (Any cats in the audience?  Leave now.  The mummies at the British Museum were a real hit, particularly with the Japanese tourists!)

Saw “Wicked” which we enjoyed, although we were seated in the nosebleed section.  (CULTURAL ALERT:  The "stalls" are the best seats in a London theater, not the "dress circle".  Who knew?)  We were also able to tour the State apartments at Buckingham Palace – a real treat as they are open only for the several weeks in the summer when the Queen is at Balmoral in Scotland.  On Sunday, we attended services at St Brides, Fleet Street, which had a wonderful choir.

After London, we took a bus to Oxford where I attended the annual Crime and Mystery Weekend at St Hilda’s College, always a highlight of my summer.  Heard interesting and informative talks on the theme "Strong Poison," met old friends, introduced Barry to Colin Dexter (a big thrill for Barry as he always sympathized with hard-drinking, classical-music-loving, never-quite-getting-the-girl Inspector Morse), and I was thrilled to be able to chat with one of my idols, PD James.  On Sunday, as is the custom, we attended services at St Cross, the church where Lord Peter Wimsey married Harriet Vane. 

After St Hilda’s, we drove south to Pickford House, a favorite B&B in Beckington, near Bath, for a week of pampering by owners, Ken and Angela Pritchard (The food!  The wine!) while attending the beautiful and inspirational “Music in the Liturgy” festival at Edington Priory.  Built in 1352, the priory survived Henry VIII, the Reformation and even the Victorians pretty much intact.  To attend Compline at 9:15 pm when the sanctuary is illuminated solely by candles, to hear a dozen perfectly-matched men’s voices singing plainsong chant -- magical!  The priory is nestled in a fold at the base of Salisbury Plain, and on the last night the full moon rose over the plain, shining through the stained glass windows.  How do you spell "awe"????  While in Somerset, we visited ancient Glastonbury where I finally got to climb the Tor, and where else but Glastonbury can you find an "Internet Falafel Bar?"

We visited Wilton House (which displays a lock of Queen Elizabeth I's hair), and made side trips to Devizes, Bath, and one of my favorite towns, Bradford-on-Avon, where the Bridge Tea Rooms serves the finest cream teas in the land, and Alison at Quire will sell you not only greeting cards but fine wool; you can even see pictures of her sheep.

After Edington, we drove via Hay-on-Wye (the Welsh town of bookstores!) to the beautiful medieval village of Ludlow in Shropshire where we were guests in the gracious Edwardian home of our dear friends, Carol and Rory Chase.  Carol (better known as the mystery novelist, Kate Charles – Secret Sins is available now at fine bookstore everywhere!) had arranged dinner parties, shopping (!), tours and outings for us; we had a marvelous time.  Ludlow boasts a famous castle, historic St Laurence’s Church (the final resting place of A.E. Houseman -- "Or come you home of Monday when Ludlow market hums..." A Shropshire Lad), but is probably better known for its food.  Every meal that Carol and I prepared was made almost entirely of fresh, local produce – meat from the butcher, cheese from the cheese shop, vegetables from the farm, and milk (with cream still floating on top) delivered directly to her door.  Heaven!

Another highlight was the “Black and White Villages Trail”, a circular drive along a route that took us through village after picturesque village in rural Herefordshire.  This tour particularly interested me because I am a diehard fan of the Merrily Watkins mystery series by Phil Rickman which are set in Herefordshire.  Merrily lives in “Ledwardine” which bears more than a passing resemblance to Woebley.  Compare this photo I took in Woebley to the cover of the paperback edition of Wine of Angels and you’ll see what I mean.  The highlight of our day was an invitation to join Phil and his wife, Carol, for tea at their medieval farm near Peterchurch, in the heart of the Golden Valley.

It was difficult to drag myself away from Ludlow and our excellent friends; to drive through traffic moving at break-neck speed along the M-4 to London’s Heathrow Airport and the flight home.   I’m already saving up my frequent flyer miles for next summer!

@ Your Library

In June, I had the good fortune to be invited to Bloomington/Normal, Illinois, home of State Farm Insurance, Illinois State University, Beer Nuts, La Bamba ("Burritos as big as your head")  and -- more importantly -- Toni Tucker and Terri Ryburn who I'd met through our mutual friend, mystery author, Kate Charles, whose mother still lives in Bloomington. 

I had a wonderful time delivering the keynote address for the Community Cancer Center's Annual Survivors' Dinner, followed the next afternoon by a talk at Milner Library, a model university library which, due to the talents of the Assistant to the Dean of University Libraries, my friend Toni Tucker, had been recently honored by the American Library Association with the coveted John Cotton Dana Award for excellence in public relations.

Kate, an honored alumnae of Illinois State, had told me how royally I'd be treated there, and she was absolutely right.  And how could I not feel like a star when a professional photographer appeared to take pictures of me for a library READ poster, modeled on the Celebrity READ posters put out by the American Library Association? 

So, like Orlando Bloom, Alan Rickman, Renee Fleming, Sean Connery, Dakota Fanning and dozens of others (including Kate!), I've got a READ poster of my very own.  As a former librarian, I couldn't be prouder!