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Spring in the South

Spring is coming to the South. The mockingbirds are singing and yesterday it rained, ending our drought at last. The birds wake us every morning and we eat out on the porch to listen to them. The afternoons are hot and the evenings are cool, pure perfection. Gators love the hot weather. They line the banks of the ponds out at the golf course. We're playing golf this afternoon with a couple that we met out there before Christmas. We agreed to meet there the second Saturday in January to play another round. The only problem was they couldn't remember what we looked like and neither could we remember them. I figured out who they were when I saw them going up to people and asking something and then saw those people they questioned shaking their heads. They figured it out when they ran out of prospects. We've played late Saturday afternoons since and it's lovely.

I got the first 15 minutes of the audio tape for Margarita Nights. It's very well done but I have to let go of the voice of Sherri I have in my head and listen to Talmadge Reagan's voice. She's done a wonderful job and the audio will be available later this month. It's a little strange to listen to my words, makes me want to start changing them and trying to make them better. Thankfully, I remember Louise Penny talking about the first time she heard an audio for her book and so I knew what to expect. It really is a bizarre experience.



So spring is coming to the South and we're starting to talk of flying north, checking flights and picking routes, while the rest of the country dreams of coming south. To make up your mind, here's a beach picture. Pull up a chair and sit yourself down.




Fridays with Jim

Here's a little more of that e-mail from Jim on March 7, 2006.

Oddly enough, I was thinking about you one morning while the CBC was recapping the Olympic results. You'd been musing one lunch about whether you'd ever get published and it came to mind during the recap of the bobsled results. We were out of the medals by a few thousandths of a second and away from gold by just a thousandths more. A few thousandths, how the heck do you trim a few thousandths off your time? We writers have it so much easier by comparison. I don't think a story is ever 100% finished. There's always a tweak here and there to improve the story with every reading. Some are the equivalent of those fractions of a second. Sometimes we see a way to improve things that are the equivalent of minutes. Yes, we've got it all over the bobsledders - your first sale could be just a tweak away. Of course on the downside, we don't have their cool uniforms.

Jim has a knack of being supportive while nudging you on and making you laugh but I'm trying hard not to picture myself in a bobsledder's outfit.

Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, it's all about how good the rewrite is. Mary Higgins Clark says you can improve what's on the page but you can't do a thing with a blank page. So sit down and start writing. Don't worry if it's good enough, it isn't. You'll have lots of time to rewrite. I wish I could rewrite my books. I could make them much better now.

Maureen Jennings - Season of Darkness

Need a good book to read? Try this new offering from the author of the Detective Murdoch Mysteries. It's set in 1940 England and has spies, love affairs and murder among the hedgerows. It's the kind of book to curl up with and turn off the world.

January, 10/12

I met Jim Ordowich at Mohawk College where we were both taking the same short-story writing course. We started having lunch together every Friday over the summer. One week I'd read his work and do a critique and the next week it would be my work. Needless to say our friendship was sometimes tested by the other's words of faint praise but somehow we survived the slings and arrows. When I was in Florida our writing partnership was continued by e-mail. At first I didn't keep those missives but I finally realized what gold there was in them and I told Jim that one day I'd publish our letters, that it might be the only publishable thing I wrote. This week I found an old e-mail that for some reason I'd printed out. I wrote and asked Jim if I could post it. Here's a bit of his answer.

Jim's words

I'm in Hawaii looking out as the sun sinks slowly into the west. Well, technically it sunk twenty minutes ago but I'm trying to teach myself to stretch the truth in the interests of a superior story. I'll start with little lies and work my way up into public office.

Jim's wit would never allow him to get elected. Here's the beginning of an old e-mail to say his renovation project was finished enough for him to start writing again.

Jim/ Mar 7/06

A bird flew in our bedroom window Sunday morning. The screens were in the basement, still covered in construction dust and needing to be taken outside for a good hosing. I was lying there reading the Sunday Star with the window still open from the night before when I heard a scratchy, scrabbly sound I thought was the cat playing with something on the floor. But it wasn't the cat, it was a bird that flapped out from under the blinds and flew across the room coming to light on the corner cabinet where I'm temporarily storing sweaters.

I'm not one of the nuts and berry set. If a flamingo was suddenly to appear in my room I'm reasonably certain I could identify it with three guesses. Beyond that I wouldn't have a clue. This particular bird was black, not as big as a crow, about the size of a smallish robin. He sat on top of a pile of books I had on the cabinet and passed a non-verbal judgment on my reading material. He looked at me ( I say "he" because it was a look of such utter contempt that only a male could pull it off, women by nature being more charitable and prone to compassion no matter how much they loath someone). He looked at me with contempt but when he surveyed the rest of the room he definitely looked pleased with his new digs, as if he was bound to be a hit with the ladies when they saw his pad. And then it hit me: if the place met with the approval of the wildlife, perhaps I could ease up on my frenzy to finish off those last few details. Maybe I could just chip away at them, yes and do a little writing by golly.

So that e-mail is from six years ago. What do you think, has he finished those last few details? In our house they'd never get done. When a job is declared, "good enough" it's over.

From Jim in Hawaii and from me in Florida, all the best.

The craziness that is Florida.

Every New Year's day the local paper wraps up the year with the weird press stories of the off the chart bad behaviour that is Florida. Here are some stories that inspire me:

A 92-year- old woman fired four shots at a neighbour who refused to kiss her. Someone should buy her the book He's Just Not That In To You.

At the Miami airport, a Brazilian man was trying to smuggle out baby pythons and tortoise hatchlings... in his skivvies. Send him All Things Great And Small.

How about this one? A grade school teacher received a gift from her eight-year-old student's GRANDMOTHER. It was a loaded handgun. That woman really understood her grandchild and sympathized with the teacher.

Florida, you gotta love it...and keep your head down!

You need one!

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family.
Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one."
Jane Howard (1935 - 1996)

Remember those years from twelve until your children arrived? Those were the years where nothing on earth was as important as your friends. The world was very small and revolved around what was happening in their lives. And then we had children and created a new family that our days spun around and nothing in the world was as important as them. And then things moved on and changed but not the need to hold others close. Friends, family and our network prop us up and make life worthwhile. I don't need a lot of people in my life, just a few who care.

Even a protagonist needs a friend. Sherri's friends play a big part in each of the books. Really, in many ways my books are about friendships as much as they are about crime, none more so than Champagne For Buzzards. Sherri's family and friends come to her rescue. We all hope to have people in our lives who come to our aid when we need them, people who call when they need us.

Just like in the song, we get by with a little help from our friends.

Enjoy this season of friendship - the season of hope and new beginnings. Hold onto the best of 2011 and let go of the rest. Most of all hold onto what we all need, whatever we call it.

Cheers,
Phyl

Subversive Humour

My friend, Jim Ordowich, sent along a little essay to share with you. Jim has a sly, slightly askew, sense of humour. I blame this on a life in retail. It's a little too long to put on the blog so clickJim Ordowich Story to see it. Here's Jim's take on the world.

Free stuff

A free Sherri Travis short story has just gone up on all the e-book sites. It is called Bitty And The Naked Ladies.

There is also a second short story called Jack Daniels And Tea which is selling for .99 cents.

The novel I didn't write

Here's a facebook post by Jayne Barnard. She suggested these could all be Sherri Travis novels.

#noveltinis are all the rage on Twitter right now: "Tequila Mockingbird" "Last of the Mojitos" "Catcher in the Rye Whiskey" "Are you there, God? It's me, Margarita" "The Portrait of a Pink Lady" "The Turn of the Screwdriver" Can you come up with any good ones?

There is actually a drink called Love in the afternoon. Great title for a book but I suspect that people would buy it expecting something besides a mystery. I think I shall have to work this into my next book somehow.

Marley asks, "Why is this drink called Love in the afternoon?"

"Because it makes you sleepy."

Sharky's on the beach, December 7th

Still a hot day but there was a brief shower at 4:30 that cooled it right down. From the 80s we are supposed to dip down to about 68 tomorrow.

We had lunch out at Sharky's and then walked out the pier. Everyone call's it Sharky's pier but I suppose it's officially the Venice pier. Today it was definitely a Shark pier. Before we were half way out to the end we saw two small sharks brought in by fishermen. The first was a hammerhead about 2 feet long. A woman stood in the water twenty feet below us hollering at the fisherman on the pier to let the shark go. It didn't seem to worry her that she was in the water about ten feet from the shark and if the guy with the rod cut the line she'd be within biting distance of one angry shark. Her heart was in the right place but I'm not sure where her head was.

As we walked out to the end of the pier we looked down on huge schools of bait fish, so many that the water was black and bubbling from them. The sound of all those fish was almost like rain on the water. Twenty feet off the pier were the pelicans, both brown and white, waiting to feed. I wonder if they were waiting for the bait fish to leave the shelter of the pier. The pelicans sure weren't coming in to feed.

At the fish cleaning table a pigeon was putting his beak up into the hose to get a drink. One of the fisherman said the City of Venice had spent over $300,000.00 to get rid of the pigeons. It didn't work.

This is a quiet time for us, a time to explore all our favourite haunts. Tomorrow we'll wander around old Englewood. Maybe Sunday we'll go to Snook Haven and listen to the music with all the bikers while we eat pulled pork under an old oak. Lovely selfish us time, a time to recharge and breath.

Stay well and safe.

Friday, December-02-11

The cool front came through yesterday, high sixties, but today we are back to around 70, perfect weather. And as always, it's sunny. We went out and played golf yesterday. I played really badly so it turned out to be a lot like hard work that left me saying @#$%#@. I'll never understand that stupid game. From not bad to horrendous, sometimes I wonder if I only play because I've already invested so much time and money in it. @#$%##@

Highball Exit has gone to Elle to get a first edit and her comments. I'm expecting them to be harsh, as in, "What the @#$#%#@ is this?" I'm not in a hurry to get her response because I know I have a big rewrite coming. In the meantime I'm going to read Jim's manuscript. I've had it for 2 months and haven't got to it.

Christmas shopping is almost done, one to mail and two to send on-line. I think December should be a quiet month and not the normal hectic runabout. Those are dangerous words, tempting fate. We'll see. In the meantime I'm going to the library and stocking up on great big thick books and lots of films. Let's hope I get to enjoy them.

Nov. 22/11

HOT, HOT, HOT Call the fire department hot and the students at Lemon Bay are setting up their Christmas tree lot. It'll be a Charlie Brown Christmas tree by Dec. 25th, a few sad needles still to fall and the angel dipping towards the floor. Christmas trees wrapped in netting and we haven't even had Thanksgiving yet! Too confusing for a Canadian girl...there we knew the season by the thermometer. The lady in the Target Store line, weighed down by wreaths, said she was getting into the spirit. Now I know how to get into the spirits, but these days the spirit eludes me.

There will be five of us for Thanksgiving. I liked Vivi's attitude to dinner. She said she'd bring anything I wanted for dinner, even a pie, as long as she could buy it at Publix. We laughed and laughed. I should have told her to bring the turkey, although she didn't promise to cook it. While Viv was joking, I wasn't. I didn't tell her that the dressing was coming in a box. To fool everyone I'll put in some apples and dried cranberries. I'm sure no one will be able to tell. Torrey and Carole are driving over from Delray so they'll be too tired to notice unless I find the spirits and forget to take it out of the box before I drop in the cranberries. Now if I can just con Lee into cooking the turkey I'll be all set.

So have a HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone, even if it does come in a box.

Mail Lady News

Sometimes I worry that when people meet Phyllis Smallman they expect to meet Sherri Travis. What a disappointment! That Sherri is so boring.

I got a lovely surprise this week when the mail lady said she'd read all four Sherri Travis novels. She got them from the local library. It's always so nice to meet someone who has actually read my books. Since she likes the books perhaps I can convince her to lose the bills.

Short Stories

I have a Sherri Travis short story called Jack Daniels and Tea going up on e-books in Dec. I wrote it back in 2002 when I was trying out the Sherri Travis character. It feels like a much younger Sherri, still Sherri but maybe less cynical. It's going to cost 99 cents and I'm hoping to make my fortune off it so I want everyone to buy it. Tell all your friends. Tell all your enemies too, we all have them, some days more of the latter than the former.

And in January, think of it as a late Christmas present and my presents mostly are late except I sent a present to our family in England this week and it cost $56.00 in shipping, only slightly less than the present cost, and it will get there within one to two months which will make it late but I thought it was going to be early - as in don't open until Christmas early- wait a minute, what was I saying? Short stories. Okay, Bitty And The Naked Ladies is going up in January and since it's free I probably won't make my fortune off it but it is special to me. It was my first short story and it won a little award. Again, a much younger Sherri. We're saving on the cover by drawing our own naked ladies. I wish I had the courage to put up Lee's. I laughed 'til I cried. I think it's safer to use my own little doodle. UGLY but, hey, it's free. Wait a minute...3 people coming for dinner...maybe one of them can draw. Can't be any worse than ours and who wouldn't want to spend their Thanksgiving drawing naked ladies?

Home in Florida
Sat. Nov. 12/11

We arrived to eighty degree weather which quickly dropped into the sixties but it's still sunny and nice. We arrived Tues night and by seven-thirty the next morning we were in the pool. Weds morning we went for a morning walk on the beach and watched a fisherman land a baby shark. Makes you wonder what's out there. Best not to think about it or you'd never go in the water.

The orange tree is loaded with fruit...on one side...the oranges have mysteriously disappeared from the north side. I'm looking at a certain neighbour with suspicion. Why wouldn't he pick them from all over the tree so I wouldn't know? Even after picking two baskets, the tree looks like it hasn't been touched so I guess I can share. I'd just like to be given the option.

Another happy thing, a fuchsia coloured orchid growing in a pot we placed under a bush last March, lovely, lovely thing to come home to, it makes up for a kitchen floor covered in dead ants. Seems they had a party after we left. Well, the party is over and I'm ready for them when they return- and they will. If I can kill a couple of people in a book, zillions of ants are no problem. I bet these are the descendants of the ants I fought twenty-five years ago, a continuing problem in the tropics...and the beat goes on.

It's going back to the eighties today and we're heading to Ft. Myers and golf with John and Judy. Hoooorrrray! Let the games begin, we're home.

Changes in latitude, changes in attitude
Oct. 29/11

Five days from now I'll be in Ontario for my mother's birthday and four days later I'll be in Florida. It's time.

This far north, the sun rises late and goes to bed early. Altogether there's an hour more daylight down in Florida. Today on Salt Spring it probably wasn't more than 50 degrees, while down home in Florida it was 80. Oh, yes, it's time. The beach is calling. We're eating down the fridge, wierd meals these last few days with carrots figuring heavily on the menu. I can't bring myself to throw out a thing so carrots it is, plus some unknown casserole and some grey meat to empty out the freezer. Definitely time.

John F. Kennedy

Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future. ____________________________________________________________

I was part of a tiny article on the CBC radio this week. The report was on e-publishing. Writers seem to agree that e-books are a good thing while the publisher interviewed on the show thought it was a very bad thing. Now isn't that a surprise? I seem to be the exception to the rule among writers; "the hybrid" reporter Margo Kelly called me. I have the e-rights to my books while McArthur has print rights.

Not all of us want to see the change to e-publishing but unfortunately no one ever asks us. Why did we change from albums to c.d.s? I was perfectly happy. Why change from 8 track, or from analogue to digital? Do you remember anyone calling and asking if you wanted to change? It just happens.

I figure that 75% of the books I've read in my life have been used books or library books. That's going to be a huge change for me. I can't see anyone giving me their Kobo or Kindle to read their copy of a book. Fortunately, the prices of e-books are much lower than print. An e-book now is about the same price as a used book but how long will that last? Not a thing to be done but to surf the wave of change and try to keep from crashing on the rocks.

We'll talk from Florida next. Stay well.

CBC Radio Interview

CBC reporter Margo Kelly is doing a special feature on e-publishing on CBC Radio World Report and The World at 6 Thursday and Friday October 27 and 28. I'm one of the people she interviewed for the piece. It's a new world out there.

Some pictures From Saltspring

I haven't had any luck getting pictures of fog but I've taken a few lovely pictures of fall on Salt Spring. Unfortunately this lot look more like a botanical book than a mystery.

How important is a book cover? Would someone buy a book because of the cover? I definitely have picked up a book because of the cover but I've never bought a book because of the artwork. Have I ever not bought a book because of the cover? Maybe. So it's pretty important.




I'm looking for a cover that is different from the Sherri Travis series. I don't want a bright cover but something atmospheric and scary in shades of grey and black with maybe a little red. In the end it doesn't matter what I think because the cover designer will have the final say but it's fun to be out there taking pictures and smelling the wood smoke drifting over the trees. It's coolish here, high fifties or sixties and sweater weather, but sunny.








Not much work getting done here. I'm half way through my revisions. The printout is sitting on the hassock where I dropped it days ago; waiting for me and making me feel guilty. I promised myself to have it done before I leave here a week Wednesday.




Chasing Fog

Going out for a walk on Thanksgiving Monday, I noticed fog on the hills across the valley...just what I want on the new book cover. Into the car and off we go chasing the fog except, when we get there, it isn't there. We went up Mt. Maxwell as far as we dared on slippery potholed roads and then along Toynbee towards Mt. Belcher. We could see the fog hanging on the outside of the mountains but in among the trees it disappeared. There's some kind of scientific principal in all this but I'm not smart enough to figure it out.

I really want this picture of fog on a road, have a picture in my mind of a rising road disappearing into fog and trees. I took lots of pictures of roads disappearing into tall firs. At one point I realized if I stretched out on the road I'd get a better picture. I was going down when that little voice in my head said, "Hello. What's wrong with this idea? Come on, Phyl, think about it. Does the word ROADKILL have any meaning for you?" I could picture tire tracks along the length of my body. Maybe I can talk Lee into doing it. He's not too smart and doesn't seem to have a tiny voice residing in his head. Besides, I'll listen for oncoming traffic. Let's just hope it's not an electric car. OOPS!

I did take a couple of great pictures of an old barn. Absolutely nothing to do with the story I wrote but maybe I'll just hold on to them in case I write a murder in an old barn.

There was one thing that stood out, a bowl of salad on the gravel road. Obviously someone set the aluminum salad bowl on top of the car while they opened the door and then forgot about it. There it was, upside down in a pile or Romaine and carrots. It was only slightly damaged so I put it on the side of the road to be picked it up on the way home. No one wants salad with turkey and gravy anyway.



#10 Sunday, Oct.2/11

After a gorgeous week the rain is holding off for the weekend, coolish but nice. Much nicer than having filthy hot and humid weather, putting on a sweater doesn't bother me at all and plants really deliver a show this time of year as if they know it's the end of the line for them. I'm looking forward to going out to dinner with friends from Ancaster Ontario tonight and catching up on all the news from home. Notice I didn't say gossip. It's news when we tell it, gossip when others do it.

It occurs to me that I'm nearly finished my tenth novel and I still don't feel like a writer but more like a wanna-be writer. I wonder if that feeling ever goes away because, no matter what, we always know we can get better, know we haven't quite got it right. I imagine artists feel the same way but is it true of other professions?

There's a place in writing a book, between the half way place and maybe two thirds, where I always feel that I can't do it, feel the manuscript is crap and not worth finishing. At this point I always feel that I know nothing about writing. I've been stuck there for a long time with Highball Exit but this week I think I came out on the other side of that dark place. I can see that I can solve the problems in the revisions. That will take months yet but it won't be as painful as what I've been doing, struggling to find the story and push it towards a believable conclusion. I'm eager now to get back to Last Call, book number 6 in the Sherri Travis series. I've only made a small start and I hope to have it in the rough draft stage by the time we return to Salt Spring in April.

With four books already out and two set to go, where are the other four that make up my total of ten? Those four are the ones that haven't seen the light of day, ones for which I couldn't find an agent or publisher. I'm starting to think I'd like to revisit them and see if there is anything to salvage. They aren't mysteries but I have this idea I could make them into smashing historical/romance/mysteries. I don't know if there's a market for a book like that and I don't know where I'll find the time. When I'm out playing golf I feel I should be home writing and when I'm writing on a nice day I feel I'm wasting my time and should just go for a long walk and enjoy the world around me. The truth is I enjoy all these different parts of my life. I just need more energy to pursue them.

Rain

We played in a Legion golf tournament Saturday and it was a blast, great friends and fellow golfers and a wonderful steak dinner afterwards. It was a perfect day for golf, sunny and hot. One young golfer got a hole in one and that was followed by a second one when a lone golfer teed off as we walked in from our scramble. He aced the first hole. All alone, he called over as he walked down the fairway to the green to have someone go with him as a witness.

Sunday the rains started. Just when you think it will last forever the world crashes in. The live-a-board workboats were all in the harbour for their annual rally and we watched them sail away, blowing whistles and horns and even an old steam whistle, as horizontal rain whipped us back from the dock. Fall is definitely here. How long until Florida? It's time this snowbird was gone.

Faithful Place
by Tana French
Penguin Books

A wonderful literary mystery, Faithful Place is a novel to read for the characters and the writing more than the mystery. I knew from the beginning where this was going but I was happy to follow, happy for the flashback to the clothes and the music of the eighties. I read it while flying from California to British Columbia, a two and a half hour flight but a trip that took eighteen hours to complete. I bought Faithful Place at the airport and read it while they tried to find a plane for us, read it while we waited for the cancelled ferry and later while we waited for the second ferry. I read all four hundred pages and didn't complain once for the delays. There aren't many books that could keep me from complaining but Tana French managed it with this beautiful and sad story from Ireland.

Sept 13/11

Excuse me while I brag!

I just had a message from Kendra at my publisher, McArthur & Co, saying Margarita Nights is on the top 50 list at Kobo, actually at #4. Kobo sells e-books in the UK, in Australia, Canada and the US. Great excitement...almost as good as making the New York Times list, but I know it won't last more than a nano second, as fleeting as a hiccup. The numbers are updated hourly and the next time I look I may not be anywhere on the list but oh, the joy of it! It's wonderful to be there no matter how short a time it lasts. This is almost as good as someone writing on my web-site or facebook that they enjoyed one of my books. That's the best. And here's the fun part, I don't have an e-reader although I borrowed a Kobo reader from our library and really enjoyed using it, easy to read and very light. I'm waiting for the e-readers to fight it out. I always choose the wrong technology and I want to know who will be still standing five years from now. But what am I thinking? Like any electronic thing it will need replacing all too soon. An e-reader won't last five years. Even paperbacks last longer than that.

We're on the dock at Fulford Harbour waiting to board the Skeena Queen. We're off to California for a week to see family, family about to move to England. It will be a bittersweet visit. How often are we going to get to England and children grow so quickly. I'd give up my number 4 spot on Kobo to keep them closer but unfortunately I don't get to choose. It would be nice to have it all, on the Kobo list and my darlings nearby.

Sunday Night

We watched Casablanca tonight, one of my all time favourite movies. I love the characters and how they interact... love the tension, which is interspersed with great music, and, of course, the love story made more perfect because it's unfulfilled. I want to write books like that, want my Sherri books to feel exactly like that...me and every other writer in the world. But there is only one Casablanca. How many lines from that movie do we all know? Play it again Sam. Oh, I know that isn't the real line but it's how we remember it. What he really said was "You played it for her, you can play for me." And then there was, "We'll always have Paris." Or, "This may be the start of a beautiful friendship." How many more are there? Something to think about deep in the night when sleep won't come.

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