Happy Spring!

Light snow, cold, highs minus 3

"... only he is an emancipated thinker who is not afraid to write foolish things."
Anton Chekhov

It's snowing here - never know it was spring! Still, the days are getting longer, and the snow lighter as well.

Well, I had the best time yesterday at the South Burlington Library. No trouble finding the place. The dreadful snow and sleet up here in Quebec turned into just good ‘ole spring rain in Vermont. Stopped for gas at the Pinnacle Peddler in Richford, the scene of my humiliating attempt a few months ago to smuggle two Restoration Hardware lamps into Canada. Won’t tell you where I tried to hide them. Then it was off to Burlington.

Had an easy drive, thinking about the book I’m writing. Gamache is walking down rue du Moulin with Myrna and they’re discussing a shocking scene both of them were involved in at the old Hadley House. I could see them, and hear them. Very helpful when writing actually becomes transcribing. Feels a bit like cheating. Will write that scene today in front of the fireplace with my coffee.
Arrived at the Burlington event a little early and met Louise Murphy, the librarian, who’s also a cook. She’d baked a marvellous spice cake for us.
A good number of people arrived, and because the weather was so awful there was a kind of life-boat feel to it. I yakked on for half an hour or so. Fortunately for everyone there it was riveting. Then answered some very good questions:

Do I think of it as the Three Pines Mysteries or the Armand Gamache Mysteries?

(Armand Gamache was my answer since he’s the centre that holds them all together)

The Arnot case becomes more and more important as the books progress, reaching a climax in The Cruelest Month – did I have that in mind when I wrote Still Life, the first book?

(no, actually. I wanted Gamache to have a past, and a mystery back there to explain why his career had stalled, but I wasn’t totally clear what it was. Only in writing A Fatal Grace did the Arnot Case become clear)

After suffering writer’s block for 5 years before finally writing Still Life, how is it you’re now writing so many books?

(alcohol and gummi bears. Really, just gummi bears. I signed a 3 book contract to begin with, then another one – taking the series to 6 books minimum. It would be a book a year. But after taking 45 years to write the first the idea of writing the next in 12 months terrified me. It’s not unusual. In fact, it’s called the Sophomore Curse. Nice. But after deciding to stop messing around with the dramatics, and just write the book I really want to – not worry what others thought – out came A Fatal Grace. And we’ve just found out it has been nominated for the prestigious Agatha Award for Best Novel. )

There were lots of other questions too. Very thoughtful and considered.

A week ago today I’d risen at 3:30 in the morning in Detroit to catch a 6am flight to Phoenix. 4 hour flight – very relaxing. Listened to my iPod and made notes. Was met at the Phoenix airport by brilliant sun and 85 degree heat. The man next to me on the plane was wearing what looked like a thong. I, of course, was in my jeans, cashmere turtleneck and jacket. Not because I didn’t realize Phoenix would be hot, but because I only had a carry-on and needed to wear the bulkiest clothing. This is where my clever system failed me.

The media escort picked me up and took me to an interview for Arizona Today. Very fun show. Ernest Borgnine was on right after me! Relieved they didn’t get us confused.

Had an event that night at the Poisoned Pen bookstore. Do you know it? Fabulous place. Run by Barbara and Rob Peters. To say it’s a mystery bookstore is like saying the Golden Gate is a bridge. Barbara has been rightly honoured all over the US and Canada for her contribution to the field of mystery and crime writing – both as a bookseller and publisher. She has her own imprint. She’s a real hero in the field, and it as so wonderful to have been invited there. Also met Lesa Holstein there. She lives nearby, is a librarian and has a wonderful, literate blog.

Then back to the hotel to sleep for another 3:30am wake up and another flight. Book tours really are a shortcut to dementia.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow...Good Friday. My latest book, The Cruelest Month, is set at Easter – where the villagers decide they’d try their hand a raising the dead. Not their best idea.

Be well.

Even The Windows Can Sing

Snow, freezing rain, sleet, highs zero

God respects me when I work, but He loves me when I sing. - Rabindranath Tagore

I came across this quote this morning and thought about my all-too-brief time in Detroit and Ann Arbor on tour last week with The Cruelest Month. I’d flown in the night before and checked into a hotel room that seemed mammoth compared to the one in New York City. Not a surprise there, but what was a surprise was discovering that my hotel room in NYC didn’t seem to have a window.

Now, I’m the type who asks for better tables, or a better room. My husband stands by the potted palm whenever I do this, but it often works. I’m always respectful, and never demand or expect a change, but I might as well ask. So, when faced with this well of a room in NYC I called down and very nicely asked if it would be possible to move to a room with a window. There was a pause. Then the young woman politely explained that all of their rooms have windows. There was another pause.

‘Perhaps you should look for it,’ she suggested.

Now, as I’ve already said, it’s not like this was a basketball court. I could see the entire room from where I stood. I thanked her, hung up and turned vewy, vewy slowly. Bed, dresser, closet, bathroom. I went in there. No window. My astonishing powers of observation allowed me to conclude the window was either under the bed or in the closet.

I looked.

Nothing.

Then I peeked behind the headboard of the bed. Voila. Success. There was a tiny window. Opening it I knew for sure I was in New York City. Nowhere else on earth would a hotel room have such a view. It was the dirty wall of the building two feet away.

But then I moved on to Detroit, and a room with an obvious window – looking over the airport parking. Bliss.

That morning I did a couple of radio interviews then was driven to the Rotary Club to give a speech. I love Rotary Clubs. They do great work, are decent and thoughtful people, and very welcoming.

And they love to sing. They opened with the National Anthem. We all stood. 100 men and women faced the American flag, and I faced the man beside me. Again, after a minute or so, my astonishing powers of observation kicked in, and I vewy, vewy slowly turned to face the flag, just as the anthem ended.
Then it was announced that it was the national day of Mauritius. The paper in front of me had printed the Mauritius national anthem. But since it was also literacy day, it had the alphabet song too. Showing great wisdom the chairman decided we should sing the alphabet song.

Now, this might sound odd, grown men and women singing, ‘A, b, c, deee, eee...’ etc. But it was a gas. A lot of fun. We sang it as though it was a power ballad. Really joyous. Can’t remember the last time I had such fun singing.
After I’d given my speech they very kindly decided to sing the Canadian national anthem. They all faced the Canadian flag, and I faced the woman on my other side. Then vewy, vewy....

Later that day I had dinner with Robin Agnew, who runs with her husband Jamie one of the best mystery bookstores in the US – Aunt Agatha’s in Ann Arbor. Then I did a talk and reading that evening at the Ann Arbor library. All in support of my latest book, The Cruelest Month.

And now I’m jumping in the car and driving from my home in Quebec down to the South Burlington Library in Vermont to talk to them about The Cruelest Month, and mystery writing. It’s today at noon and if you’re in the area put on your winter boots, hats, mittens, chains on the tires and come on out. It’ll be fun.

Let’s hope I face the car in the right direction, at least. Wonder how long it would take my amazing powers of observation to realise I’m in Bangor, Maine?

Wish me luck, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Be well.