A Christmas Carol

 by Sybil Johnson

First, an apology for missing my last posting date. I was on jury duty, a subject for a different day. I have thoughts. So many thoughts. For now, though it seems appropriate to talk about A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

One thing I try to do every year is to either read the story or have Patrick Stewart read it to me. Not in person, of course. He did a great audiobook of it several years ago. 

I really love A Christmas Carol. There have been so many adaptations of it over the years. Probably numbering in the hundreds. Some of them are very faithful to the book, others have taken the core story and run with it. Imdb has put together a list of all film/tv adaptations. I assume it’s fairly complete.Sounds like checklist time to me.

There’s the 1938 version with Reginald Owen as Scrooge. Or the 1951 version with Alastair Sims. Then there’s the animated Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol. That one has some fun songs in it. And so many others. My favorite, though, is The Muppet’s Christmas Carol. 

Then there are other modernized versions like Bill Murray in Scrooged and, most recently, Hallmark had one called Christmas Above the Clouds. I know Hallmark movies are not everyone’s favorites. Truth be told, I don’t like all of them, either. This one was well done and a fun take on the story.

Another thing I found enjoyable to read is A Christmas Carl by Dickens and John Gaspard. (Not a typo.) Gaspard has a Greyhound Classics series. He takes the text of the original classic book (all no longer under copyright) and changes things around a bit to tell the story from a dog’s POV. In this case, the dog’s name is Carl. Other books in the series are The Greyhound of the Baskervilles, A Greyhound Investigates the Mysterious Affair at Styles and The Greyhound & Gatsby. All great fun. 

Do you like A Christmas Carol? What’s your favorite version of the story? 

That’s it for me. Merry Christmas and see you in the new year.

Merry Christmas from Type M

 by Charlotte Hinger

I'm swamped with memories this Christmas. Awash with nostalgia. Drowning in mixed emotions. And feeling guilty as usual because I can't focus on the religious connotations. 

Two joyful Christmases stand out to me. When I was five and still believed in Santa, one Christmas eve my family was snowed in at my Aunt Aura Lee's house in Garnett. We had to spend the night and I was in a state of panic because Santa would not know where we were. He surely would pass us by. I was grief-stricken. 

Sure enough Christmas morning there were toys in abundance for my cousin, Rosemary, and nary a one for me or my sister, Phiz. But the roads were clear and it was safe to drive back to our farm on the outskirts of Lone Elm, Kansas. 

My father made some excuse to go to the woodshed and came back triumphantly bearing a note from Santa that he gotten word that he should leave our presents in the shed because we had been side-tracked. With great joy my sister and I followed my father out to shed and there were two of the most beautiful dolls I've ever seen in matching high chairs. What a blissful morning. 

Another especially terrific Christmas was the one when our daughters, their spouses and children came to Hoxie for a whole week. My husband bought a huge fiber optic tree. Enormous, in fact. We called it Old Sparkly and plugged it in every Christmas ever after until it finally bit the dust. It was a magical time of family togetherness. 

I have many other happy memories of other Christmases, but I'm also conscious of loss. So many family members are no longer with us. I miss my husbands undiluted delight in the season. His generosity. His ability to seize the moment. I miss my sister's baking binges. My brother's look of contentment. 

Wednesday, I'll leave for Denver and spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my granddaughter and son-in-law and their sweet two daughters. Naturally, my daughter, Michele and her husband, Harry will be there too. Christmas past will be set aside for the present.

Hope, Peace, and Joy to you all. Have a wonderful Christmas

Christmas is Coming. Let's Get Fat!

I can hardly believe Hanukkah is here and Christmas is next week. Didn't those both happen a few weeks ago? One of the major perks of Christmas when I was growing up was all the cakes and pies and cookies and candies my mother make. Every season my uncle made a batch of penuche for us. Oh, my gosh, I haven't thought of that in years. Food is a very big part of my books, especially the Alafair Tucker Mysteries, because food - gaining it, killing it, preparing and preserving it, cooking it and eating it was a very big part of everyone's life in the early 20th century. And holiday food is an important part of growing up for every human ever born since the invention of holidays.

 So this year for the holidays, I’m treating you to my late sister-in-law LaNell’s recipe for boiled chocolate oatmeal cookies. These are oh, so delicious, and very easy. I have this recipe in LaNell’s handwriting, and have lovingly pressed it into my personal cookbook. It would be a shame not to perk up your Christmas with these cookies.

1 stick butter

1/2 cup milk

2/3 cup cocoa powder

2 cups sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

3 cups uncooked quick oats

1 cup chopped nuts

Combine first five ingredients in a saucepan and boil two minutes. Add 1 tsp vanilla. Remove from the fire and add 3 cups of uncooked one-minute oats. Add one cup of chopped nuts. Mix in well. Drop by teaspoons-full onto wax paper and let set. Yields about 40 cookies.

Enjoy! and maybe these can become part of your holiday traditions!

Late for a Reason - Puppy Alert!

Catherine Dilts

I'm late today. No apologies. I haven't had a dog since I was a teenager. The learning curve is real. My husband is ecstatic. He had an English springer spaniel nearly thirty years ago. For two decades, he's talked about wanting a dog.

Strider

Now he's retired, and has the time to spend with a puppy. We drove a long way to pick up Strider. (Our entire family is Lord of the Rings crazy, and Aragorn was too hard to use for a dog name.) He seemed sad and nervous. Until we showed him his new backyard.

so sad

At his first vet check, the doctor and tech laughed about how serious and sad he looks. He could be the poster puppy for a save-the-dogs campaign. But when he chases leaves around our back yard, he is all smiles and joy.

Strider is a companion dog. He won't be in dog shows or go pheasant hunting. With his sweet, timid personality, it's probably best he'll be with us most of the time.

Guard dog Strider hiding behind mommy's legs

This is a writing blog, and I do have writing news. I received the first paperbacks of my new release, The Body in the Hayloft.

Coincidentally, there is a heroic puppy in this novel. Along with horses. And of course, cats.  

I'm happy to hear stories about your good boys and girls, and puppy advice!

Breaking Writing Rules and a Climate Apocalypse

 By Thomas Kies

I teach creative writing and mentor a writing critique group.  At the beginning of the first class, I tell the attendees that I’ll outline what the rules of writing are.  And then I’ll let them know, there really aren’t any rules.

For example, Cormac McCarthy and his strange use, or nonuse, of punctuation. He didn’t use quotation marks, used commas sparingly, and rarely included apostrophes.  His dialogue and narration flow forced the reader to pay close attention to his writing. His sentence structure was often unusual with strange cadences.  He was difficult to read but my God, what a writer. 

I’m currently reading a book by Stephen Markley called The Deluge that also breaks a lot of rules.  For example, a few months ago, I wrote a blog about head hopping.  That is writing in the third person and then abruptly shifting gears and writing in the first person point of view. 

Changing a POV in the same paragraph is still verboten.  I don’t like it if a writer shifts POV within the same chapter. And I’m iffy when it comes to using it at all within the same book. 

But Stephen Markley changes his POV from chapter to chapter depending on the multitude of characters he’s written.  First person, third person….even writing about a character who is an opioid addict in the second person.  

And it works.  

I picked up this book because it takes a damning view of what happens to the world when we allow climate change to continue unabated.  Which we’re doing.  If you’ve read my fourth book, Shadow Hill, you’ll know that I’m deeply concerned about what we’re doing to our planet.  I have four grandchildren, and I’m worried that they’re going to inherit an apocalypse that we helped create.

Next rule broken.  There is a wide range of characters to follow.  

Are there too many characters in this book?  In a story written for the LA Review of Books, Markley said, “The climate crisis is such an enormous problem [that] you can’t, to me, tell it through the one-character point of view—the I, I, I would be a little navel-gazey or overwhelming in a way,” he said. “I knew it needed to be a range of characters, and obviously they had to be different and come at the issue from different angles and different parts of society, from different races, classes, genders, etc. It always had to be like this to me, and it was a matter of finding what voices fit into this world.”

I’m about a third of the way through the book.  It’s nearly 900 pages long.

He breaks another rule I wrote about last month.  How long should a novel be? 

Let me go back to Cormac McCarthy who said, “The indulgent, 800-page books that were written a hundred years ago are just not going to be written anymore and people need to get used to that. If you think you’re going to write something like The Brothers Karamazov or Moby Dick, go ahead. Nobody will read it. I don’t care how good it is, or how smart the readers are. Their intentions, their brains are different.” 

Is the book too long? It’s a big topic and he’s covering a lot of ground. The novel begins in 2013 and ends in 2039.  Right now, I’m reading what happens, politically, in 2027, and if we continue on the trajectory we’re on now, I think the author is going to be dead on. 

Yes, Mr. Markley broke a bunch of rules when he wrote the Deluge, but as I say at the beginning of my class, rules are meant to be broken 

The Suspense is Kinda Killing Me

Hello, Friend!

Shelley Burbank here, author of the Olivia Lively, P.I. Mystery Series and currently couch surfer extraordinaire.

At the Atlanta Botanical Garden

I’m writing today from Atlanta, and it seems to be my lot to end up in places without internet on the days I have a Type M blog due. While in Maine, I visit certain people who do not subscribe to any internet service providers, period. To work when I’m there, I drive 15 minutes or so to the small public library where I take over the children’s area table to plug in my Chromebook and log onto their server.

The librarians are kindly older ladies. They don’t seem to mind my being there for hours at a time. I’m grateful.

Here in Atlanta, the internet went down in the whole building last night. It’s a big apartment complex in a nice part of town. So now, a veteran of lost connections and travel, I’m typing this on my phone and will find some way to post. There’s a library branch nearby. The weather is nice. A walk will do me good, plus I’m curious to visit.*

Thank goodness for public libraries!

I tend to take technology/connectivity for granted these days; I bet most of us do. We notice how intertwined we are with the ‘net only when it stops working. It feels like a lost limb. It feels untethered.

In a way, it feels free.

I’m old enough to remember the time before Netscape Navigator and the World Wide Web. When we wrote papers and stories on electric typewriters and listened to music on the radio via airwaves, not streaming. Was life better then? Is it better now? Who can say?

Publishing changed dramatically after the internet and the ebook and Amazon. There are pros and cons. Pro: It’s easier than ever to produce a book and list it for sale, bypassing gatekeepers, and keeping a greater percentage of profits. Con: It’s TOO easy. Everyone is doing it. We have a glut of books. A surfeit of stories. An excess of content. Only a few writers can make a living, ‘cuz capitalism, baby. Supply has vastly outstripped demand to the point a 100k novel is worth less than a Dunkin.

It’s disheartening.

I’ve been thinking about this state of publishing, figuring out my place in the literary ecosystem, wondering whether it’s worth doing anymore. Have I given it my best shot? I haven’t yet put my indie novella project up for sale. I’m reluctant. It’s not the book biz I wanted to be in when I started, back when trad publishing was viable for someone who worked hard and had some talent.

But now I realize that era—roughly mid-20th century to 2010–was a unique period in publishing history. Before the 1900s, authors usually paid to print their own books. Writing itself was time-consuming work, too. No word processors. No spellcheck. Can you imagine hand-writing multiple manuscripts? (On the other hand, newspapers serialized novels and magazine actually paid for stories, so…it’s all relative.)

In some ways, the writing lifestyle we see now is a RETURN of an older way, not a new-fangled situation at all. The tools have changed, that’s all.

(For much more on this, please read The Untold Story of Books by Michael Castleman. It's an excellent history of publishing over the last 600 years. I've read it three times.)

What happens, though, when authorpreneurship depends on the internet working rather than on typesetting by hand and steam-driven printers? What happens when the tools are increasingly held in the hostage-grip of big tech companies? When , at the end of the day, we are “content creators” for the machine?

I wish I had a clear vision of what MAY come beyond this era. I don’t have a crystal ball. However, something like an idea is beginning to form. It’s nebulous. It’s the opposite of rapid release and BookTok. It’s not traditional publishing with the Big Five, either.

It's about being an artisan and creating beautiful pieces that will hold their value over time. Read: don't count on the money. 

In a way, I suppose, my attitude reflects a loss of faith in the literary economy of that earlier era in which I grew up, the 70s, 80s, and 90s, when writers like Stephen King and Danielle Steel could fumble around at first, earn their break, and then go on to establish long, fruitful careers publishing one or two books a year. (Steel now pumps them out every couple of months. Her readers—myself included—don’t seem to mind. Still, she established herself as a name brand back in the 20th century and what we call traditional publishing.)

Back then, mid-list writers who did not become household names like King and Steel still managed to earn a basic living from solid advances and a long tail of backlist royalties—if they stuck it out for a couple decades.

Can't see around the next bend. Can you? 

Those days are over. Something new is ahead. What’s coming? I don’t know, but I can feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck are rising. It could be good. It could be devastating. We’ll know when we know.

The suspense is kinda killing me.
____
*The internet came back before I left the building, so I am now finishing up from the comfort of the couch. I might still walk down to the library just to take a peek.

How to use DUH! Time to your creative advantage.

by Steve Pease / Michael Chandos

This is a hurry-up-and-wait world. Waiting rooms are the archetype: bus stations, dentist, doctor, license plates, busy restaurants at lunchtime.  People interested in the same few service points, coiled up or sitting on benches or plastic chairs. High humidity from anxious body heat. Confusion. Anger. Ethnic divides. Age issues. Attendants and staff limited by the System. Security gates at airports, ouch!

Wait a minute. Massive human diversity. External stressors making some people hyperactive, others zoning out. 

We write stories, about humans. About real humans, not robots or idealized stereotypes. The more human your characters, the better. But they have to look real, act real. Where do you get experience in Humans? Why, in these unmade jigsaw piles of humans in waiting rooms, of course. Where else will you get them in this kind of lab experiment? Don't nap, read, stare blankly, or go to the bar. Look at all these fiction character guinea pigs! Don't be a zombie, use this DUH! time to your advantage, assuming your imagination is connected to your senses.

This is a typical Chicago airport gate. I know O'Hare Airport well. I worked in Colorado, but many of the Government offices I interfaced with were in the Washington DC area. Video teleconferences, of course, but there's nothing like being there, for side conversations, lunches, biz card trading, and chances to sell your opinion and to solicit commitments. O'Hare was the transfer point.

I write mystery, suspense and Science Fiction short stories. My stories are getting longer because there's more to write about. Novels are percolating. I was sitting in a three-hour layover in Chicago, trying to read a little, but it was lulling me to sleep. I got up for a stretch and commenced to people watch. There was Sully Sullenberger (landed the airliner in Long Island sound) quietly waiting for the flight to board. 

I was sitting in an alcove that serviced gates to four Heavies, big planes ready to board hundreds of humans. I looked at the lines. Passengers holding all sorts of carry-ons, businessmen, soldiers, kids. Mom & Pop on vacation. My vision transformed them from sweaty humans in Chicago to passengers boarding orbital shuttles, suborbital to India and Japan, and orbital shuttles to the Moon. It all made sense now. There even was a lady in a colorful sari obviously rocketing to Dehli. All the languages!

The scene is a loop in my head still, with smells, noise, sights.  I'll use it in a future story, I am sure.  Well-used DUH! time.

I was absent two weeks ago when my article should have been here. I was at the wedding of my oldest granddaughter, outside (50 degrees and going down), but decent wind, a lovely Victorian house and grounds, and pretty good diet-busting food. Massive Social DUH! time.

Except the human pickings were good. The new mother-in-law has been married 8 times! I expected a femme fatale, but got an experienced wedding manager, like it or not. The groom had to tell her to back off a bit. Her current husband was a Texas businessman, pickup, cowboy boots, jeans, pearl button plaid shirt and a I don't want to be here attitude. He wanted to be on his phone. Slouched in his chair. Several 45-50-year-old men appeared, three of them, all "Uncles", I was told. Well-made tweed sport coats, Very properly dressed, tidy haircuts, not a muscle between them, slack handshakes, but good to talk to. Lots of young women with weird hair (to this 60s-70s man), purple, piercings, tattoos, ENERGY.  Good human character models.

Happily married. He's a study, too.

December Traditions

 Here it is, December again. Just this morning I was telling Don that we have reached the age of Warp Speed. When you’re young, time moves like molasses. It takes forEVER for your birthday to come, or the holidays. But as you get older, time picks up speed with every year, until as you near the end, days/months/years pass so quickly it all becomes a blur.

In my family, we’ve always seen the year out with a bang. My mother’s birthday was Dec. 6, my sister Dec. 7, Then Christmas. December 16 was always the traditional day for decorating the Christmas tree when I was a kid. It was my parents’ wedding anniversary, and it didn’t seem odd to us youngsters that the folks spent their anniversary buying and decorating their Christmas tree instead of foisting us off on some relative and going out on the town. December 16 may seem late to be putting up your tree these days, but back in the day we bought big old live trees, and you didn’t want them turning into dried up firetraps before the season was over.

Don resisted buying an artificial tree for the first untold number of years of our marriage, but when he got sick in 2008 and couldn’t go tree shopping, I put up a little fake tree that I had used in my Scottish shop. (Yes, I used to import tchotchkes from Scotland, Ireland, and Wales and sell them in a shop.) A couple of years later I bought a pretty little fake tree that we have used ever since. It doesn’t smell the same, but I don’t have to sweep up needles every day, either.

My plan was to finish with my WIP by the end of the year. Fortunately I didn't specify which year. Still, I like the way the book is turning out, so I guess that's something.

And then my birthday is at the end of the month. I’d tell you which one, but sometimes I can’t believe it myself. It’s all such a blur…

In two weeks, I'll post a great Christmas cookie recipe my sister-in-law used to make - wildly easy, no bake, and delicious. 

Have a happy December, and enjoy you're latest great read!

A Busy Season

by Catherine Dilts

Monday was the book release day for The Body in the Hayloft, book three in the Rose Creek Mystery series. I experienced many frustrating delays getting this novel to readers. But finally, here it is! I’m excited to present the next adventure for the Rose Creek Reads book club amateur sleuths.

When I’m asked whether I’m working or retired, I hesitate. Technically, I’m retired. That’s the box to check on soulless forms. But retirement doesn’t mean I’m not working! Can I get an “amen” from my fellow authors?

Wooly mammoth - extinct or not? Hmm.

Most of us who are retired, or who don’t work a “day job,” stay plenty busy. Volunteer work. Family care (of elders or children). Sports. Our own health challenges.

Writers? We have a small business to run.

I took a day off before Thanksgiving to go on a family outing. Several of us met up at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science to see the Lego exhibit.

Me visiting Brick Planet

We all viewed the Brick Planet Lego exhibit, and then the Secret World of Elephants exhibit. I annoyed the grandchildren by calling them “oliphaunts” like Samwise Gamgee in the Lord of the Rings. After seeing the two temporary exhibits, our group split up and headed for different regions inside the museum. Space or Prehistoric Journey?  

A few nights later, we attended a dance recital at the Broadmoor. The ballroom is elegant. Merida Bass (my daughter and co-author) and her husband dazzled with a cha cha, while our youngest grandchild looked far too grown-up at age fifteen in her flashy costumes. Dazzling, but Grandma wasn’t quite ready to see the baby of the family looking so spicy.

Merida and Ron looking sharp at the Broadmoor

We took a year off from Thanksgiving. Our daughters were at other family gatherings. We’re hosting a party later in December. While we were invited to multiple dinners, we opted to stay home. We just plain wanted a quiet day.

The rest of the year will be busy with book releases (yes, two) and a book signing event. Not to mention the holidays! A day off here and there is necessary. 

I hope your holidays are merry, not maddening, and your plans are fun, not frenetic. 

Words of the Year 2025 So Far

 by Sybil Johnson

It’s that time of year. I don’t mean Thanksgiving, though it is tomorrow here in the U.S. I mean the time when the words of the year start rolling in. Here’s what’s going on so far.

• Collins, a British dictionary, has been selecting a woty since 2013. Its 2025 word of the year is vibe coding defined as “an emerging software development that turns natural language into computer code using AI”. Lots of shortlisted words. You can find them here. 
  
  
•  Cambridge, another British dictionary, has been choosing its woty since 2015. Its 2025 word of the year is parasocial defined as “involving or relating to a connection that someone feels between themselves and a famous person they do not know, a character in a book, film, TV series, etc., or an artificial intelligence.” 
  
  I find it interesting that AI is included in this. We had a Garmin GPS device (before we had smartphones) that we called “Jill”. We used to love confusing her. Mostly to get back at the snarky "recalculating" we constantly heard.. So,yeah, I shouldn’t be all that surprised about the AI part. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/editorial/word-of-the-year
   
• Macquarie, an Australian dictionary, has been choosing a woty since 2006. Its 2025 word of the year is AI slop which refers to “low-quality content created by generative AI which often contains errors and is not requested by the user.” Yep, seen that. Didn’t know it had a name. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2025-11-25/ai-slop-named-macquarie-dictionary-word-of-the-year-2025/106047682
  
  
• dictionary.com has been choosing a woty since 2010. Its word of the year is 67 (pronounced “six-seven”) Never pronounce it as sixty-seven. That just shows your ignorance and age.
  
  This one makes me feel old. I obviously have not been hanging around people of the right age group because I have never heard of this. Apparently searches for “67” dramatically rose in the summer of 2025. Perhaps everyone trying to figure out what those kids are saying? After reading this article, I’m still a little mystified about its meaning. Perhaps it means “so-so” or “maybe this, maybe that.” Seems like it’s hard to define. Sounds like young’uns just wanting to annoy the adults in their lives. Lots of other words were on the shortlist. You can read about them here.

The following dictionaries/organizations have yet to select their words of the year.

• Merriam-Webster usually announces its selection the end of November/beginning of December. 
• Oxford – Voting is now open for the Oxford word of the year. Contenders are aura farming, biohack, rage bait You can vote here: https://corp.oup.com/word-of-the-year/
• American Dialect Society – The society doesn’t choose its woty until its meeting in January. 

What would you choose as the word of the year for 2025?

An Apology of Sorts

I missed my previous turn to post and for this I apologize. Last month I was in Oceanside, CA, to attend the ceremony for the International Latino Book Awards. Not knowing what my travel schedule was going to be, I had written my blog ahead of time and all I had to do was logon, give it a last-minute read, and hit publish. Problem was, I couldn't logon. When my account needs verification, I usually get a code sent either to my phone or another email account. This time, Google verification sent the code to my tablet, which I seldom use and I'd left back in Colorado. I tried all sorts of work-arounds, to no avail as the verification kept defaulting to the tablet. 

 If you ever find yourself stranded, there are far worse places than Oceanside.  

I was here because the anthology, Ramas y Raíces, I edited for CALMA--Colorado Alliance of Latino Mentors and Authors--had been selected as a finalist in the 2025 International Latino Book Awards. Curiously, though there were over ninety categories (children's, YA, memoir, novels, best cover, poetry collection, etc.,), there was none for anthology, and so we opted for The Dolores Huerta Best Cultural and Community Themed Book - Spanish. 

The awards are truly international in scope with authors and publishers from all over the US, plus Puerto Rico, Mexico, Guatemala, Peru, Colombia, Argentina, Cuba (via Canada), Brazil, and Portugal. The ceremony venue was Miracosta College. 

With so many awardees, only those who won Gold were given the opportunity to express their thanks at the podium, and even then, were cautioned to keep their words short. No more than 20 seconds. I did have a speech ready, but as circumstances turned out, we got Bronze. However, if you have a chance to hold one of these medals, it is an impressive hunk of quality metal--I don't think the Olympics gives anything this fancy--so no regrets at coming in third. Besides, having judged many literary contests, choosing the best from a field of great competitors is purely subjective. 

 

Considering this was a gathering of Latinos, no surprise that we chowed down on tacos. 

 

No Reeboks for Caesar

 Donis here. I've about reached the middle of my new WIP, the spot where everything changes for the protagonist, and now I'm neck deep in historical research as she moves to San Francisco in 1886 and starts a new life. 

Now, the 12 books I've had published are all historical mysteries set in the United States. This new MS is not a mystery, really, but it is historical, and like every other historical fiction author, I do about ten times more research than shows up on in the pages of my books. I try for as authentic a depiction of my characters lives in their place and time as humanly possible. What is their daily life like? In pre-20th century America it wouldn't be realistic for a fictional amateur sleuth could just run off and chase clues whenever they want. She has to fix dinner, do the laundry, weed the garden. He has to plow the north 40, take care of the horses, go to work at the bank/land office/mercantile. It's a much more physically demanding life than most of us post 20th century denizens have to live.

When I write a historical, I want the reader to feel like my character is a real real person who has a life that matters, to care about her. I dearly want to create her world and make the reader believe in it.

Thus, the tremendous amounts of research. When it comes to historical mysteries, you really have to be careful not to make egregious mistakes about the time period - events, language, clothing tools, conveyances. What mystery-solving methods were available to your sleuth during his time period? Sometimes recent past mysteries are more difficult to get right than distant past mysteries. When did smart phones become widely available? No Reeboks for Caesar - that's easy. But what about Reeboks for your character who is on his way to Woodstock in 1969? How about Oxydol Detergent for your housewife in 1930? Levis jeans for a farmer in Oklahoma in 1918? (Note: Levis were available, but not so much in Oklahoma. I know this because the official historian for the Levi Strauss Company told me so.)

It's a tightrope. An author wants to create as realistic a world as she can, but the whole point is to engage the reader in the story, not to write a history book. Strive to at least be accurate enough not to alert the anachronism police!

Only a very small percent of the research I do for each book finds its way onto the page. It's amazing how little it takes to add just that perfect touch of authenticity to a story.

Why, then, spend so much time learning everything you can about the times, lives, and mores of your characters when you know you're not going to use most of it? Because your own familiarity with the world you're writing about is going to show without your having to make a big deal of it. The characters are going to move naturally through their world without thinking about it, just like we do in our own world.

One single sentence in a book may represent an hour of research and quite an education for the author, yet the information may or may not ever be used again. But sometimes one perfect little detail can trigger a mental image for the reader and put her in a country kitchen early one spring morning in 1915.

Are You a Curler or a Magpie?

by Catherine Dilts

I have a “birdbath” on my deck. It’s actually a clay flower pot base set on the railing. Birds like getting a drink there.

I have a theory that being elevated and open makes the birdbath appealing as a safe place to satisfy their thirst and wash their feathers. They can see what’s coming.

Neither my husband nor I are bird watchers. Our identification skills are limited. I know flickers, robins, magpies, jays, hummingbirds, owls, and redtail hawks. Everything else falls into vague categories of those little brown birds, medium-sized black birds, and oh look, that one has yellow feathers mixed in with the brown.

Our fall season has been painfully dry. We’re anxious to receive moisture. Even the snow-averse souls wouldn’t mind some frozen precipitation at this point. The birdbath has been in steady use.

Today I noticed birds lined up on the railing. They weren’t politely taking turns. They were fighting over the birdbath. Diving, feigning attack, flapping wings, and jabbing beaks in threat.

I wanted to tell them we’d refill the container even if they drank it all. We humans have a magical spigot from which we obtain endless quantities of the precious fluid. They would just fly away in a panic if I stepped onto the deck. So I let them fight.

The Battle of the Birdbath made me think about human competitiveness. Some is good. My husband and I have become fans of curling, which is an Olympic sport. We have yet to try our hands at the sport. Maybe we never will. But we’ve become fascinated with watching people push a heavy, round stone across the ice. Then teammates scramble to brush at the ice with little brooms in attempts to affect speed, and to direct the stone a certain route.

The stakes are high. We watched the finals to decide which team goes on to the Olympics. A sport doesn’t get much more high-stakes than deciding who will represent their country in front of the entire planet. Yet curling seems so . . . civilized. The team chatter is polite. There is no physical contact.

Curling athletes behave better than the birds on my deck.

Any sport could have a dark underbelly, I suppose. I examine the competitiveness of elite dressage and jumping equestrians in book three of my Rose Creek Mystery series, The Body in the Hayloft (available December 1^st). My research led me down a path examining potential drugging of show horses. What drugs are used? Is this prevalent or rare?

What can drive a human to be so competitive that they become deadly? Even the birds clamoring over their precious water source only bluff and bluster. There are no feathered bodies on the deck.

I’m afraid I do behave like a sparrow fighting for a place at the bird bath at times. I would like to be more like a curler athlete. Steady. Focused. Kind.

I'll get started on my self-improvement project, right after I refill the birdbath. 

Scams Targeting Writers

 by Thomas Kies

I was introduced to a new scam the other day. One that I came very near to falling for.  An email came to me out of the blue claiming to be from the organizer of a large book club (nearly 700 members).  He said they wanted to “feature” my book Random Road and he gave it, and me, effusive compliments. The entire club would be reading and discussing my novel.  

“Featuring your book with us provides direct engagement with a dedicated community of readers who love to discuss and recommend books, increased visibility among literary enthusiasts who value discovery and thoughtful conversation, and the opportunity for your work to become a memorable part of a month-long reading experience. Our meetings are always relaxed, thoughtful, and filled with conversations that remind us why we love books in the first place.”

I was so enthused I offered to fly out to meet with his book club.  He said that was not necessary.

I did some due diligence and looked the book club up online.  Yup, there it is.  Seems legit.

But then, the organizer sent me a tiered price list of how they wanted to feature my book.  That was a red flag.  I’ve spoken and interacted with dozens of book clubs.  Not one of them has asked me for money. 

I dug a little further online and found some complaints from writers who had also been approached and had fallen for it. Scam!  This email came from someone who had nothing to do with the actual book club.

Writers are dreamers.  If you’re an aspiring author, you’re hoping for that big break in a business that’s notoriously difficult to navigate.  If you’re a published author, your creativity is on the bookshelf and you’re looking for a way to break through a very competitive marketplace. Scammers know this. We’re red meat for predators. What are some other scams?

-Vanity presses who pass themselves off as traditional publishers. They flatter you, offer you a contract and then you get the fees…editing, marketing packages, printing costs, distribution fees, fees for reviews.  Traditional publishers don’t charge you. They pay you. 

The red flags here are they accept your manuscript suspiciously fast, they ask for an upfront payment, and their website makes vague promises without giving real titles they’ve produced. 

-Fake literary agents.  Real agents are selective….very, very selective. They don’t chase unpublished authors.  Fraudulent agents charge “reading fees” or “editing services” or promise access to publishers they really don’t have a relationship with. A legitimate agent never charges reading or submission fees. 

- Fraudulent contests or awards.  Writing contests can be a wonderful chance to showcase your work, but they can also be an opportunity for scammers to cheat you out of money. Some contests exist solely to collect entry fees and email addresses. Others give out hundreds of meaningless “awards,” then push overpriced trophies, certificates, or anthologies. Do your research.  Look up past winners and check out the organization’s past and reputation.  

- “Your book will make a great movie” scam. It usually starts with a flattering email claiming your book is “being considered by major film producers.” That will get your heart pumping. Who doesn't want to see their book turned into a movie?  Or a Netflix series? What the scammers really mean is: buy our expensive marketing package and we’ll pretend to pitch your book in Hollywood. Real film scouts do not cold-email indie authors. 

- Overpriced, overpromising marketing services. I see this one a lot! Marketing is an important part of being an author, but it’s easy to fall for false promises. Some companies sell “press releases,” “book trailers,” “social media placement,” “reviews “or “Amazon optimization” that do little or nothing.

In short, research the companies who claim they want to work with you. Talk with other writers. Trust your instincts. Unsolicited offers are a red flag. If it sounds too good to be true, it is!