Down Time

I've got good news to report: My Agatha teapot arrived safely:

Something to cheer me up while I'm stuck most of the day in a chair, recuperating and trying to write.

I don’t know about other writers but I need plenty of down time to be able to write well. I think that writing a novel is like a pregnancy—the baby has to progress at it’s own rate and cannot be rushed. Wouldn’t it have been nice to say “I think I’ll have this baby in nine weeks instead of nine months “ and pushed the accelerator button. But would the baby have come out as perfectly formed, with all organs working?

Such is the way with novels. They have to develop at their own pace and I need plenty of down time to allow the next scenes to develop in my sub conscious. I always notice when we have guests or life intervenes with outside appointments that my writing suffers. It doesn’t leap ahead eagerly but crawls out, word by painful word.

And there are certain things I need most to let the creative juices flow: a nice long shower is one of them. The other is driving alone in the car. I’ve used trips to the library or grocery store to talk my way through complicated scenes. In the past people used to look at me warily as I shouted at myself in the car. But now, thanks to Bluetooth, I can shout away and be considered normal.

            At the moment I have more down-time than I want, stuck in my chair staring out of the window. I wish we lived on the sort of street where intrigue might happen in a rear window opposite, but alas it’s quiet and the neighbors are too far away to watch without binoculars. So what am I doing instead, to inspire creativity? Popping. Yes, popping. I’ve been given boxes of candy, and sent presents that come with bubble wrap. Do you know how soothing and fun it is to sit popping bubble wrap with nobody telling me to shut up? So popping is my new creativity exercise. You might want to try it sometime.

The Best Laid Plans

So much for my updates from Malice Domestic convention! It wasn't that I was partying so hard that I had no time. I actually missed the entire convention due to an accident on the first evening. I went out to dinner with a group of friends. We were given a big table at the back of the restaurant and I dakidn't realize it was up a step from the rest of the room. At the end of the meal I decided to use the rest room before we walked back to the hotel. I turned from my chair and stepped out into nothing. I went down like a tree onto brown ceramic tile. There was no kind of stripe or indication at the edge of the step which was tile like the rest of the room.

I was taken in a taxi back to the hotel and then it was determined I should go to the emergency room. It was my first experience of being in an ambulance and such cute paramedics too, but I was hurting too much to enjoy the experience. Three friends from dinner--Carolyn Hart, Eve Sandstrom and Jan Giles--came with me and spent the next seven hours with me in the emergency room, chatting to me and keeping up my spirits. I can't say enough how wonderful they were.

Less praise for the emergency room. It didn't seem busy but it took over an hour each time between doctor visits, e-rays, CT scan and all the while I was lying on a very hard gurney. It even took an hour and a half before I got an ice pack and then only because Carolyn made a fuss.

End result was that I have broken a bone in my pelvis. It is in place and the only cure is time. At close to five o'clock in the morning we arrived back at the hotel. The staff there (Hyatt Bethesda) were fantastic. I can't say enough about their kindness and willingness. The bell man who pushed my wheelchair up to my room telephoned the next day to see how I was getting along. The hotel sent up flowers and a lovely note. How rare is such attention these days.

I also can't say enough about the kindness of my roommate, Carolyn Hart, and of Eve and Jan, and so many other mystery writing friends at the convention. They kept up my spirits, came to visit and looked after me so well. As you can imagine I was worried about how I'd get home from Maryland as I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. Then I remembered that we have emergency medical evacuation insurance (taken out in case we got sick somewhere exotic) but it worked equally well in the USA. The next day a nurse arrived for me with limo to the airport and then she accompanied me home, first class, with a limo at the other end.  So given the circumstances it could not have been better managed.

The next morning I learned that I had won the Agatha Award for NAUGHTY IN NICE. I rather think the sympathy vote had something to do with it, but I promise not to go to extreme measures to win any awards in the future!

So now I'm home in my own bed and already thinking impatiently about starting my next book. I have at least a month ahead of me not being able to move, so why not get a head start. I've already got a great idea for Georgie's next adventure!

I'll keep you updated on my progress.

Malice, part deux.

This is a picture Hank Phillippi Ryan interviewing me at Malice. We do look a little like Sonny and Cher singing I've got you, babe, don't we? The interesting thing was how much we had in common. We had similar childhoods. We had both invented movie-star personas for ourselves as teenagers. Maybe she is my long lost twin, whisked out of Britain to escape from our wicked uncle?  But then Jacqueline Winspear and I seem to have led parallel lives, so perhaps she was the younger sibling. Fascinating to think about.

Anyway, one of the things Hank asked me was whether I was superstitious. Superstitious, me? I replied with a laugh. No, I'm sensible, realistic. And it wasn't until today that I realized that I am superstitious:

I knew I wasn't going to win the Agatha award this year because of my hair.

My theory is this... if my hair is easy to manage and goes perfectly into place, then I'm not going to win an award. If it is hopeless, needs rewetting and re-drying five times and even then is a mess, then I have a good chance at winning. So it occurred to me as I did my hair and it fell nicely into style that I was doomed, award-wise.

Then, at the banquet, the doom was reinforced. My other theory is this: if I eat all of my meal and enjoy it, I am not going to win. On the other hand, if I push the food around my plate, can't swallow it and end up hiding the chicken under my brocolli then I seriously believe that I'm going to win and I'm nervous.

So yes, Hank. A teeny bit superstitious at times. Sensible and together most of the time, however.

Report on Malice

I've just managed to catch my breath after a hectic weekend at Malice Domestic--the convention dedicated to the celebration of the traditional mystery. When I was asked to be toastmaster I thought it was a cool honor. I didn't realize I'd actually have to work! Talk about great exposure: I had to host the opening ceremony, introduce all the speakers at the banquet, have an hour's interview, speak at the farewell tea, be on a panel with Mary Higgins Clark and Parnell Hall, be on the best novel nominees panel, plus an interesting panel on culture clash. I had two signing sessions and looked wistfully at the line out of the door for Mary HC. Maybe one day....

Then I had lunch with the Red Hat Ladies,(who make me a new hat each year) breakfast with agent, lunch with editor. This left about ten minutes for a bathroom break in three days.

But it was fun and I have greater respect for the president and the queen who have to be "on" like that all the time. The muscles around my mouth ached from keeping up a perpetual smile for three days.

I didn't win the Agatha this time around--but another well deserved win for Louise Penny. This is three years in a row as a nominee... am I turning into Susan Lucci?  (oh and please note the tiaras which we personalized and then auctioned off for charity. Mine had a tiny crown on it, plus a magnifying glass and handcuffs)

My only regret was that my duties kept me from attending more panels. I was so sorry to miss Parnell's humor panel and there seemed to be particularly good topics this year, so well done to Barb and her planning committee. And kudos especially to Verena Rose and her committee for making a large convention go so smoothly. It will be hard to be back there next year as an ordinary participant but at least I'll have time to actually hang out with my friends who only passed me like ships in the night this time around.