FIVE FAVORITE TROPES OF AN IRISH MYSTERY by Yvonne Saxon

 

When you think of a cozy Irish mystery, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Castles? Abbeys? Ghosts? Me too! I readily admit that I enjoy the Irish mystery stereotypes. In fact, I’m of the opinion that if a mystery is set in Ireland, it better have one or more of the following familiar elements!

First and foremost, the mystery must have ancient ruins! Give me castles with high battlements, broken walls, and stone staircases so I can question if the victim jumped or was pushed? Lots of drafty secret passages great for spying, kidnapping, or escaping, and centuries old weapons affixed to the wall or the requisite suit of armor. Also at least one ancient church or abbey must make an appearance. Gravestones and a wandering monk or two (either alive or dead) add to the atmosphere. Disappearing relics or Celtic artifacts really get my attention. Stone circles, like the Piper’s Stones in County Wicklow with their mystic background tend to send a shiver up my spine.

DNA AND THE SAVVY WRITER by Maria Hudgins

Police have identified the person whose sweat was left on a button on the knife sheath found at the scene of the bloody murder of four college students in Idaho. Think about that. One touch and he has left his calling card.

Reading this takes me back to the most exciting time of my young life. I was a graduate student at the University of Tennessee, taking a course on current work in biochemistry. This was about 1964 or 1965. It was a seminar course where we would read and discuss the latest publications about a new thing called DNA. At this time Watson and Crick had received the Nobel Prize. We knew that this was the molecule found in every living cell and that it contained the instructions for making a new mouse, a new rose, or a new you. But we didn’t know how it did it.

I remember that some of our seminar discussions ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. How could a chemical spell out something as wonderful as . . . us? Looking back on it now, it seems obvious. Why couldn’t we see it then? DNA contained four smaller units called, A, T, G, and C. Never mind what these letters stand for. These four units were like a tiny alphabet. It took a few more years for scientists to learn how to read the words. A few. Once the basic idea was accepted, the rest followed like water through a broken dam. It was mind-blowing.

By 1984 DNA could be used to identify individual people. By 1990, gene therapy could be used to treat immune deficiency diseases. 

In 1995, jurors in the O.J. Simpson murder trial ignored definitive DNA evidence because, they told reporters, they “didn’t understand it.”

In 1997 Dolly the sheep was cloned from a cell taken from an adult ewe. By 2003, the Human Genome Project containing the entire map for human chromosomes was complete.

As writers and readers of mystery fiction, we should know this history. A story set in World War 2 must not have a detective sending a blood sample off to the lab “for analysis”. Beyond the basic blood types, A, B, O, and AB, there would be nothing the lab could tell them. A story set in 2001 should not have a detective sending off a hair to the local lab and getting back anything in a few days. Today, the FBI keeps a database of DNA profiles called CODIS, and your perp may be in it if he or she has had unpleasant business with the feds.The amount of information, the cost of tests, and their reliability have improved dramatically and at lightning speed, but they are not yet perfect.

As the science has improved, we have found deep flaws in some accepted techniques like bitemark ID, hair analysis and blood spatter analysis. The more sophisticated DNA science becomes, the easier it becomes to make mistakes. We are now working with teeny-tiny samples.

The mystery writer must keep up with the science because the reader may know more than you do. Then again, he may know much less and you don’t want to bore him with dry lectures. Writers, you can avoid the whole problem by setting your story in the past. But then you must know your history. There are no easy options. No wrist watches on George Washington’s men. No cavemen fighting dinosaurs, and no way to identify a person from a sample of his blood.

SEVEN NEW SPRING READS FOR THE MYSTERY LOVER! by The Retired Librarian

As an avid mystery reader, when the days begin to get longer and somewhat warmer, do you find it harder to sit inside and enjoy a good “whodunnit”? Spring can accommodate that book thirst with wonderfully rainy weather. From the day-long thunderstorm to the unpredictably long Nor’easter, you have ample opportunity to sharpen your armchair sleuthing skills.

Here’s a list of mystery and thriller new releases so you’ll be ready for that rainy day!

 

THE CHRISTIE AFFAIR by Nina de Gramont

A fictional murder mystery woven around the real-life temporary disappearance of Agatha Christie.

 

 

PORTRAIT OF AN UNKNOWN WOMAN by Daniel Silva

Gabriel Allon undertakes a high-stakes search for the greatest art forger who ever lived.

TRY SOLITUDE By Angela G. Slevin

As a teen, I spent many summers in the mountains at my grandmother’s home. It was just a village, not big enough to be a town. For generations, my mother’s family had farmed in these mountains, cutting out fields step-style from the soil.

Living there for the summer seemed like camping to me, roughing it. No TV, no hot water, a toilet/shower/sink in one room with a drain in the floor. No washer or drier – laundry had to do be done by hand. No movie theater, no library, very few shops and those weren’t meant for browsing. They only really carried the necessities.

It was more boring than watching grass grow.

I didn’t know then that it was the perfect writer’s retreat. I don’t mean a retreat where you and a dozen other writers converge at a nice hotel where work hours for writing are 8 – 5 and meals can be had with or without company. Where perhaps in the evenings, a little gathering is organized for networking or talking about books. And there’s a TV right in your room, with dozens of channels. I mean a retreat from TV, from people, from fancy food and distracting fun places to visit.

I went on such a retreat years later, as an adult. The place I stayed was in the country, on farmland, and remote enough that even the nearest fast-food restaurant was 30 minutes away by car. I know that’s not really far, but when I’m hungry and tired, and it’s pitch black out in the country night, I would rather not venture out where I don’t know the roads. For about $65 a night, I got a bedroom with a comfortable full-sized bed, simple desk and chair, a box air conditioner, no TV or phone, and a bathroom shared with other guests. If I wanted meals, I had to buy groceries and cook, and wash up, too. If I didn’t bring it with me, I wouldn’t have it, at least not conveniently. I was provided with free coffee, though (writer fuel!), and the water from the artesian well was delicious and ice cold, perfect for a hot summer.

Some people might wonder why anyone would want to be all alone for days. Being alone is often used as punishment for bad behavior: being sent to your room, being grounded, having to stay inside the classroom at recess, being made to stand in a corner by yourself. Or being alone meant that you had no friends. By deliberately choosing a no-frills destination with no TV meant I couldn’t so much as watch the news in the morning or evening, a routine I had kept up since my twenties, in addition to knowing I would still have the chores of cooking and cleaning. So why did I choose solitude?

I really, really just wanted the world to shut up. I really, really just wanted to see what I could write when I focused completely.

I was not disappointed. Even with interruptions like meals and showers, I still wrote for at least 8 hours a day, every day. Some days it was from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and some days it was more like 11 a.m. to midnight. I slept when I was tired, and when I awoke, I wrote or gazed out the skylight in meditation. I even had time to research and catch up on my reading for fun. I explored the flower garden and rocked on the front porch. I browsed the bookshelves that were in every common room, and was charmed by hummingbirds at the feeder. But without any responsibilities, errands or distractions, I could actually quiet my mind, and it was easier than I expected. I created my story arc, developed my characters, thought quietly or out loud, and spread out my index cards on the floor with no fear of their being eaten by the dog or otherwise disturbed. I outlined almost an entire novel in just three days.

After I returned home, life got in the way. Finding focused time to continue writing was almost impossible with young kids, a husband, dogs, and work.  But I’d visit my story, sometimes adding only a few sentences, I’d sit with my characters, dream up another conflict or a different plot twist, and now I am carving out time to continue writing “My Big Novel.” Maybe I need another retreat for a few days. Winter time hotel rates on the coast are pretty good. Maybe this time, I’ll forego cooking and go to a restaurant to people-watch for inspiration. Maybe I’ll do a day long retreat at a coffee shop or bistro. Maybe I’ll visit one of my favorite local libraries.

Or maybe I’ll sit in my car by the water and let the view inspire me. My spot is never very crowded, and I’d like it to stay that way, so I’m not sharing its name. Just a few preparations, like sandwiches, water and a caffeinated drink, and I’d be set, at least for a few hours.

Try solitude. It’s not loneliness; solitude is freedom. It gives you time to remember what you want from life, not what you’re supposed to want. The creativity that can spring from solitude is amazing, and you can start small. Write down a word that you like, or a few sentences for a scene, or a conversation between characters. Maybe it’s a conversation you would like to have with someone you know. And you don’t have to spend hundreds of dollars to enjoy a writer’s retreat. You don’t have to be away from home for a long time. You can take control of the hours in the day and the dollars in your pocket at any time and change direction. Add a new facet to your life. Have a little adventure. A change will do you good!

 

THROW ME SOMETHIN’ MISTER! IT’S MARDI GRAS! By Michael Rigg

2022 Mardi Gras: Krewe of King Arthur
Locked & Loaded & Ready to Roll!

If all goes according to plan, when this post publishes in the wee hours of Saturday, February 11, 2023, I’ll be in New Orleans winding down from participating in two Mardi Gras parades yesterday (Friday) and preparing for a third, tomorrow (Sunday). And getting psyched about watching several more, as they thunder down Canal Street all day Saturday.   

I write stories set, mostly, in either the Virginia Beach/Tidewater area or New Orleans. So, this is a research trip! (I’m still trying to convince my tax accountant that these junkets should be a business deduction, though. What a stick-in-the-mud, right?)

Using Tidewater seems self-explanatory. That’s where I live. “But why New Orleans?” you ask. “Why not?” I respond. What an interesting place—the Crescent City, the City That Care Forgot, the Big Easy. “NOLA,” has a lot of nicknames. My personal favorite (and one I think I invented) is “The Chameleon City.” New Orleans presents a different identity and soul to each person it touches. It’s like a “shape-shifter,” only not as foreboding, and with much better food. 

And what a more hands-on way for a writer to learn about New Orleans than participate in its world-renowned Mardi Gras festivities?  

“But I thought Mardi Gras, “Fat Tuesday,” was just one day,” you assert. And you’d be technically correct.  Carnival season starts each year on January 6^th, the “Twelfth Night” after Christmas.  But Fat Tuesday—the last day of the Carnival season—varies from year to year, because it depends on the start of Lent—Ash Wednesday—which is calculated based on when Easter occurs. 

Regardless of the exact date of Fat Tuesday, New Orleans and the surrounding area have been celebrating Mardi Gras since January 6^th.  By the time Fat Tuesday rolls around, there’s already been a “whole lot of partying going on.”

Mardi Gras is rich with history and tradition. For example, purple, green, and gold are the colors most associated with Mardi Gras in New Orleans. As the story goes, Rex, the King of Carnival, selected the colors and assigned a meaning to them in 1892.  Purple stands for justice, green for faith, and gold for power. If you want to learn more about Mardi Gras, its history, traditions, and, most importantly, the parade schedules, check out this website: Mardi Gras New Orleans.

Few would argue that parades are the beating heart of Mardi Gras. And people in New Orleans know how to parade! Parades usually center around a “Krewe,” such as the Krewe of ALLA (www.kreweofalla.net) or the Krewe of King Arthur (www.kreweofkingarthur.com). Some people belong to more that one Krewe. There are walking parades (like the Krewe of Cork, www.kreweofcork.com), “float” parades (the vast majority), and even parades where the members ride on streetcars (like the Phunny Phorty Phellows, www.phunnyphortyphellows).  All told, there are over ninety different parades in the New Orleans area from January 6^th until Fat Tuesday.

The majority of the parades occur during the last two weeks before Fat Tuesday. Parades are massive affairs, from Krewes with a few hundred members to “Super Krewes,” usually any Krewe with over one-thousand members. This year, for example, Krewe of ALLA has eighteen floats carrying 500 riders. Krewe of King Arthur has seventy-one floats with 2,400 riders.  (For more on Krewe size, and for comprehensive information about Mardi Gras in general, check out Arthur Hardy's Mardi Gras Guide.)

And that doesn’t count for the number of high school and college bands and marching units or the many “adult” walking/dancing groups, like the Muff-a-lottas (www.muffalottas.com), the 610 Stompers (www.610stompers.com), or the Pussyfooters (where you have to be at least thirty years of age to join, www.pussyfooters.com ), interspersed between the floats.   

Don’t worry that you can’t be here. You can still experience the thrill of Mardi Gras parades from the comfort of your La-Z-Boy.  Beginning Friday, Feb. 10 through Fat Tuesday, on Feb. 21, The Times-Picayune newspaper and its online affiliate, NOLA.com, will livestream every parade that rolls by its St. Charles Avenue newsroom (about thirty-two parades) via   nola.com, Facebook, YouTube and Twitter.  There are even Mardi Gras trackers (using GPS) you can download. Check out Mardi Gras Parade Tracker and Download WDSU Parade Tracker for iPhone, Android.

Wish me luck! Two down, one to go. And “Send me a comment, Mister!” Let me know what kind of Mardi Gras experiences you’ve had.

STRENGTHEN YOUR SUBMISSIONS STRATEGY, PART 3 by Max Jason Peterson

In previous posts, I explained the “why” behind my statistical method. Now I’ll provide the “how.” The following is the nitty-gritty of what my submission spreadsheet looks like (I use Microsoft Excel). But for those who don’t like spreadsheets, take heart! I will also explain how to do this using a word processing document, and even using notecards. (Both are tools I’ve enjoyed.) Further, even if you don’t intend to use a spreadsheet, I’d recommend skimming the setup details but still reading the paragraphs in between, where I explain how various measurements help me in my submissions quest. Bear in mind, as long as you understand the reason for collecting the statistics, you can find a way to do it using almost any tool, provided you get in the habit of consistently noting when things went out and came back, and when things were accepted and written.

WHY I READ by Judy Fowler

Abraham Lincoln's mother,
Nancy Hanks

I kicked off January by spending way too many hours watching televised souls struggle for power in D.C. Eventually, I looked away and visited friends, and promptly picked up Covid. 

Post-quarantine, I squeaked through a medical clearance exam for cataract surgery. In the days before it, I've used my bad eyes to drive a senior friend to appointments after his family took his car and left me to sort out his cognitive challenges day by day. 

I was listening to too much news and building up revenge fantasies. Life in the new year felt like an airless room. 

I went on an empathy quest. The quickest way to find it? Read.      

Even as a child, I picked up a book to find out how others felt when they went through things. I could be with someone else in ways childhood had yet to afford me. I got relief from the pressure of self-consciousness.  

Whether the struggling character was Abe Lincoln's mother (that's her, Nancy Hanks, Kentucky Girl, in the portrait above), or the starch-capped Sue Barton, Student Nurse, their journeys and how they felt about them gave me access to another person's point of view. I could ponder how I'd handle their challenges. I appreciated their innate resources and thought about my own. 

I lived in a 'don't talk about your feelings' world. Stories allowed me to sort out my feelings. 

Empathic authors took time to draw characters for me. I felt loved and cared for the more I loved and cared for those characters. 

My father lived with us, but I admired how Pippi Longstocking, who survived alone with just a horse and a monkey, handled the arrival of a truant officer. What would I have done? The Five Little Peppers lived with their widowed mother. Teamwork allowed them to preserve the fun of childhood. 

When The Borrowers lost their home in the wall of a house and had to live in a field, it scared me. My heart went out to them. They were indoor people. So was I.

But they made it. 

I learned, one slow or fast page at a time, how others perceive Which resources they do or don't have.  Storytellers opened a window to different perspectives. 

Empathy was the air in the room. 

Now, whether I'm reading how Things Fall Apart for people drawn by Chinua Achebe, or Going Rogue with Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum, I connect with a character, experience their perspective, and feel what they feel. 

In just moments, we meet where it matters. I relax into compassion for us both. 

They see things through. They don't quit. It's all about the three acts for them, and not just the moment at hand. 

Thanks to the thoughtfulness of writers, I can see someone else's story arc and know my own. 

Why do you read?