After the rain cometh the fair weather, quoth Aesop –  

        …… he of the many pearls of wisdom.

            I was thinking about this recently, having spent a lot of time in inclement climates. After years of growing up in rainy England, I made a new life in Los Angeles where it was claimed, “It never rains in Southern California….”  Hmmm.

            Over the Thanksgiving holiday I was with my family in England. I find myself working long hours, seven days a week in Hollywood, so my only break from this is to fly far, far away from it all.

            Of course it rained, and it was dark by 5 pm. But it was cozy, and the Christmas lights and busy shops and crowded London streets were cheerful. For a while. I’m just not used to being so cold anymore.

            My siblings and I spent a few days in southern Greece, where the Mediterranean sunshine was very welcome. It was on the cool side, but the feel of even the winter sun on our faces was such a tonic.  However, later on, after the sun dipped down setting into the reddening sky over the Aegean Sea, the thunder rolled in and lightening crackled and cracked. The heavens opened up and rain lashed out, whipping across the beaches and coastal village throughout the night. It was spectacular to watch – and rather scary to listen to, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep because it was so loud. But it was dramatic and exciting.

            In the morning, a weaker November sun began the task of drying up the pavements and puddles. These spectacular night storms that vanished at dawn continued for several days.

            When we drove back to Athens for our return flight to Gatwick, we stopped en route for lunch in Ancient Corinth. The winter sun had warmed considerably as we sat on the terrace of a small taverna, enjoying a simple Greek salad and souvlaki, at the foot of the Temple of Apollo. Rain seemed a distant memory.

           We arrived back in England in the dark. It was freezing cold. Thirty degrees. I had forgotten the misery of the bitingly cold, damp, weather of my early years.

            The rain and the cold continued when we took a day-trip down to Hastings in Sussex. With the drip, drip of rain somehow getting inside my collar, wet hair plastered to my head and the wind lashing around my icy, mauve-with-cold face, we braced ourselves for a walk along the pebbled beach where many Foyle’s War episodes had been filmed, then hurried into the warmth a local café for fish and chips and hot cuppa (cup of tea). Bliss.

            I don’t remember England being this cold – or wet. My energy seemed focused on trying to keep warm and dry. My family teased me about being ‘soft’ and spoiled by the artificial life in Hollywood, where Christmas day is usually sunny. It was the warmth of having my family around me that made it so special. We chatter continuously and laugh a lot. But I’m not sure I would want to get used to the endless gray skies and rain again.  

And so I came back home to sunny California.

            It certainly was warmer in Hollywood the first couple of days; the sky was blue with just a few wispy clouds. Hallelujah! Then it started. A pitter-patter on my windows. Oh no – not again! For the following three days, the rain bucketed down and skies remained dark.

            But then it stopped. The next day it was blue skies and sunshine and I got my smile back.

            I realized that it wasn’t just the rain and overcast skies that had been getting to me. It was that time of year. Many of us silently panic that the year is rolling to a close and we have not finished what we promised ourselves we would do. Uncompleted To Do lists, abandoned projects, all those holiday gifts and cards to buy and taxes to start thinking about. Writers have unfinished stories and articles to write. I certainly do. And what about that extra weight we were going to lose?  But what’s the point of dieting now, at the eleventh hour, with all the holiday parties and meals with friends and family almost upon us. What’s the point, with all the chocolate appearing everywhere we look? No point at all. (She says, savoring another favorite Quality Street chocolate: a purple wrapper this time.)

            So we resolve to switch to healthy salads and fruit plates in the New Year. This time I mean it! Except that the winter has only just started and salad weather seems a long way off. We’re about to have the shortest day of the year… January and February can be very cold, wet and gloomy. Lots of rain. Oh dear.

            But there’s another way to look at it. Especially if you’re a writer. Winter’s the best time to shut oneself away and write, with no distractions. You can’t really potter in the garden, should you have one. So you might as well stay inside and write. No matter how gray the sky is, how torrential the rain or how short the days are outside, we are inside, with an extra layer of sweaters on and perhaps a wooly scarf to keep the draughts out, and a clever little heater aimed at our feet, keeping us warm as toast.

And we write – and write. Typing away, as our imagination takes flight. It is the best time to do what makes us feel alive: the best time to write. We shut ourselves away in our own literary world. And with a little discipline and lots of cups of tea or mugs of coffee, we turn out yet another masterpiece with our name on.

            Then one day, we realize that it’s not so cold. A scarf and a layer of sweaters get discarded, the heater gets turned down a notch. When we finally look out of the window again, there is the smattering of blue patches in the sky.  

            He was right. Aesop, that is. After the rain cometh the fair weather – with all the possibilities of the spring season, with summer to follow. And a tumult of new ideas and fresh approaches to our writing.

            Clever lad, Aesop also said that the level of our success is limited only by our imagination. That is something writers have in spades. Imagination. So what are you going to work on to get you through this winter? Where will your imagination take you?

…………………end………………………..

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, it won’t come as a surprise to hear how much we at THE WRITERS IN RESIDENCE like, respect and learn from each other. As 2018 draws to a close, I’d like to share with you some highlights from the blog this past year.

Our cycle of posts begins with Madeline, who always opens the discussion of writing with her unique point of view.I nodded in agreement after reading her post on why adjectives and adverbs are okay… “They are what bring the cadence to your ‘voice’, and the musicality to your writing.” I admire the way she paints pictures with words: “…the (plot) cake is mixed and in my mental oven.”

Reading Rosemary’s entries almost feels like I’m reading her diary. Her innermost thoughts on why she writes remind me that the best writing digs below the surface of the subject. “Leading Myself Astray”, on the importance of research, illustrated how she brings historic authenticity to her writing. I especially related to her piece on how endings, even when tragic, can lead to promising new beginnings.

That proved true when a post on naming characters became the last entry from former member Bonnie Schroeder, who decided to leave the blog. However, we welcomed Jill Amadio, whose range and depth of experience has made her a valued addition to the group. Not many of us can begin a sentence with, “Sara Paretsky told me….” I appreciate her insight on the business side of writing, something I tend to overlook.

Speaking of the business side, Linda wrote a thought-provoking post about a subject many of us have, or will, experience as the publishing industry continues to transform. I could relate to the decisions she’s facing with publisher Midnight Ink’s dissolution, a common dilemma for authors.

Gayle’s “What’s in a Name?” confirmed the importance of getting the right name for our characters – it took three tries before my newest one would ‘talk’ to me. I consider Gayle the teacher of the group. Her lessons included how a character’s voice can convey who they are, and how to bring minor characters to life without a lot of exposition. And I still smile when I recall Gayle’s post on Valentine’s Day – part 2 of “How to Open Your Story with a Bang”.

There were several great tips on how to evoke sensory details in Jackie’s post on the subject. Jackie’s work with African children, including mentoring them in writing, exemplifies not only her life’s mission, but our blog’s mission to encourage and support writers. I found her recent post on handing down traditions very meaningful.

I can’t ignore the many excellent guest posts we’ve had. Patricia Smiley’s “The Importance of Setting” would have been an outstanding piece under any circumstance, but it carried special meaning for me. I read it the day before the mass shooting in Thousand Oaks California took place. Whenever these tragic incidents happen I’m horrified and disgusted, but this was different. For many years I lived two blocks from the Borderline Bar, where the shooting occurred.

Sitting 7,500 miles away in Sydney Australia, I watched news footage taken from a sidewalk I’d walked along thousands of times, of a building I’d driven past almost daily for years. I could envision every inch of the route the ambulance would take back to the hospital, the layout of the ER where they’d treat the victims, the waiting room, down to the carpeting, where the victims’ families would be waiting. Having had ‘boots on the ground’ personalized the emotional impact for me. It became a painful reminder of our challenge as writers to incorporate that first-hand realism in our own writing.

I interviewed author Mike McNeff about his background in law enforcement and the authenticity it brings to his writing.  Mike has also pursued courses in the craft of writing and became a certified editor. He generously shares his expertise with other writers, including creative writing students at our local high school.

Hanna Rhys Barnes weighed in with the best pep-talk on writing romance fiction I’ve ever seen, reminding us of how some writers can be disrespectful toward the most popular, best-selling genre of fiction in the English language. As we WINRs have often said, “Writing is writing.”

An excellent post by Paul D. Marks lamented how… “our cultural ties-that-bind are breaking down”, which has made writing more challenging as a new generation seems less aware of the past. I still recall a young writer in my critique group questioning why my child protagonist wandered in the forest for days when she could have used GPS. In 1899. Fortunately, some readers appreciate the past. Sally Carpenter made that point in her “Retro-Cozy” piece, and in “The Story of You”, three memoirists shared their insight and advice with me on the importance of communicating memories of earlier times.

What to do when you lose your publisher or contract became a popular topic (little wonder), on which both Linda and guest blogger Heather Ames reported. And the question of where writers get their ideas has been explored frequently this year. Jackie wrote about it in “Writing A Murder”, Linda in “Inspiration?”, and Madeline in “Stealing and More….”

Did you find one of our posts particularly noteworthy, touching or instructive? Tell us which one. Wondering what the new year has in store for you here at THE WRITERS IN RESIDENCE? Check in with us every Wednesday and find out!

Miko Johnston is the author of the A Petal In The Wind Series, available through Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Miko lives on Whidbey Island in Washington.

While the wildfires raged north of Los Angeles and Sacramento, the state capital, and tens of thousands were required to evacuate their threatened homes with little assurance as to when they could return, I longed to be home for Christmas. By home, I mean Cornwall, specifically St. Ives where my dance teacher mother presented pantomimes and my father dispensed medications for the local chemist and played the lead in The Emperor’s New Clothes. The holiday was usually subdued compared to the frantic, joyful goings-on across the pond, with only a few presents, and nothing like the Christmas gift of a handgun a Wisconsin glassware company is giving each employee.

Here, the telly has turned into a Christmas monster, hawking gifts, edibles, and anything else to which the word Christmas can be attached. The commercials are relentless and have been so since August. One TV channel has been broadcasting movies for the past three months with the yuletide holiday theme overshadowing Thanksgiving, which I grudgingly celebrate because I love turkey stuffing and gravy.

Some Christmas cards one can buy in Southern California are localized with illustrations of Santa Claus sunbathing on the beach attended by bikini-clad maidens wearing little else but white fur-trimmed Santa hats. The idea is to mail such cards to friends and relatives suffering from the cold. I once received a rather rude thank-you note in response that sympathized with my having to celebrate in such an un-Christmas-like climate as Orange County, and asking me not to remind them of my sun and sand in the future.

For my December 25^th Grand Meal dessert I buy Christmas pudding and brandy-soaked fruit cake at the Indian grocery shop down the road. They sell clotted cream, scones, Marmite, Bisto, and many other British products. I tried what they call a Cornish pasty. Nothing like mother made. But the cream is imported in small glass jars from Devon and is delicious.

There’s a big sales push on by a Nebraska company that ships a very large white foam polystyrene box filled with prime steaks, hamburgers, chops, and roasts packed in dry ice. What does all this have to do with my current job of finishing up my next mystery? Well, these gifts save a lot of time in the kitchen, and the box I received from a friend who decided I was a starving writer is large enough when empty, I realized once I’d transferred the food to the freezer, to hold a small body or bits of one.  The top fits tightly and is leak-resistant, leading to the assumption that any blood will remain inside. The U.S. post office is used to accepting and mailing all sorts of odd-shaped packages and this one passes muster whatever it may contain except for petrol, pot, explosives, and ammunition.

Dozens of authors have been writing Christmas mysteries since last spring and one can see the results of their intellectual labors at online bookshops as well as in brick-and-mortar buildings that devote several shelves to the kind of killings the holy holiday can inspire. Aside from the bakery, and dog and cat Noel cozies, some titles are clever, such as How the Finch Stole Christmas by Donna Andrews, and Christmas Stalkings, several stories collected by Charlotte MacLeod.  In fact I counted ten other Christmas Stalkings titles before giving up on Amazon’s lengthy list on its site.  Other holiday titles include Every Vampire’s Christmas Wish by M.L. Guida, and a collection of yuletide thrillers by Edgar Wallace and Arthur Conan Doyle. Lee Child’s A Christmas Scorpion continues as a best-seller. Meanwhile, mistletoe, the three wise men, the guiding star, and reindeer haven’t escaped being borrowed for the holiday and are included in several titles by authors such as P.D. James, Shelley Coriell, Anthony Litton, and Lena Bourne.

I’m a bit surprised that traditional Christmas crackers haven’t emerged as a themed title because these English table decorations offer so many possibilities for the inclusion of small body parts such as fingernails, eyelashes, or a hank of hair into the cracker’s middle section. I know one can remove the gift already included because as children my brother and I often did so when no one was looking. If we didn’t think it was worth keeping we’d slip it back in and try another cracker.

I wish everyone a Happy Holiday and a wonderful New Year.

Madeline (M.M.) Gornell is the author of seven award-winning mystery novels. Her current literary focus is Route 66 as it traverses California’s Mojave Desert. Madeline is a lifetime lover of mysteries, and besides reading and writing, is also a sometime potter. She lives with her husband and assorted canines in the High Desert.

Way back when, a favored relative we occasionally visited would say, “That’s just loverly,” when she liked something—especially when giving a compliment. She wasn’t using loverly as a stand-in for being lover-like, but as a confounding of the word lovely. At least that’s what my brain took as her meaning—that the object she was referring to was very nice. Pleasing. Her remembered words, and pictures of her in my mind’s eye are what brought me to this post, and my topic—Adjectives and adverbs in writing.[i]

Many far more successful writers than I have shared their opinions, preferences–and given advice regarding the use of adjectives and adverbs in fiction writing. And the current trend, I think, is the fewer the better. Edit them out. My (slightly contrary) thoughts here are about my personal leanings, and are inspired by what I like to read—not a rule from a writer’s perspective. And underlying my thoughts, are topics which I hopefully have mentioned before—(1) The benefits from exposure to as many ideas and information as possible (like I’ve heard here at Writers in Residence) (2) Breaking rules or current writing customs in favor of your writing instincts and “voice.”

The short, sweet, and to the point of this post is—I love adjectives and adverbs. To me, they can enhance, convey feeling, bring connotation, or even add warmth or coldness to an idea you’re trying to express. They are what brings the cadence to your “voice,” and the musicality to your writing. To me, the right adjective or adverb can help a reader sense the scene, heighten sensory perceptions already described, or even quickly picture a whole character. A few examples…

• His tone was conspiratorial, and slightly excited.
• But Meldon’s loud voice, surprisingly high and squeaky, brought him back to current day.
• With him whistling appreciatively to himself in his cruiser-cocoon, in acknowledgement of their hard work and accomplishment…
• Ben willfully continued to ignore both yesterday morning’s congratulatory thoughts about the Caltrans crew…
• Still, and quite annoyingly—even so protected from outside forces, when Ben looked down at his lap, he needed to brush away fine granules of yellowish-sand from along the crease of his meticulously pressed right pants leg

For me, Judging when an adjective or adverb will bring depth to a character, the scenery, or to just make a more musical sentence—versus self-indulgent prose-writing, is well worth thinking about. I usually make my judgment call for “keeping,” but if the word is not doing what I want, finding a better adjective/adverb. And if still not working, scratch the whole thing, and try writing a different way.

If there’s actual advice I’d like to offer—it is before cutting out all those evil-adjective and word-adding adverbs (especially the “ly” ones,) think about a couple other concepts dear to my writing heart—voice, and the musicality of your writing. Said another way—true enough, one should watch out for shooting yourself in the foot with tortured over-written prose—but at the same time making sure you are writing prose that makes your heart sing!

Would love to hear your thoughts on the topic…

Happy and loverly writing trails!

[i] Merriam Webster online: Adjective…a word belonging to one of the major form classes in any of numerous languages and typically serving as a modifier of a noun to denote a quality of the thing named, to indicate its quantity or extent, or to specify a thing as distinct from something else…  Adverbs are words that usually modify—that is, they limit or restrict the meaning of.  They may also modify adjectives, other adverbs, phrases, or even entire sentences. An adverb answers the question when?, where?, how?, how much?, how long?, or how often?

William Shakespeare had Juliet utter these famous words: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” But as Romeo and Juliet discovered, the entire story revolved around those names and the fact that he was a Montague and she was a Capulet and those two families weren’t destined to get together. The same with the Hatfields and the McCoys. Without the tension between those families, we wouldn’t have the classic story that we know today.

My point being: Names Matter.

There is a saying credited to Elmore Leonard who was a master at picking names for his marvelous characters. He said he was having trouble with a character until he changed the guy’s name and then he couldn’t shut him up.

There is so much truth in that. Go back to Romeo and Juliet. If Romeo had come from another family that didn’t have a lifetime feud with the Capulets, he and Juliet would have had no problem getting married. But he was a dreaded Montague and there was no peace between the families until half the cast of the play was dead and the survivors saw the error of their ways and had a group hug before the curtain came down. I’m making up the hug part, but you get the drift.

The same plot was used in the musical, West Side Story. Many of the Sharks and the Jets lay dead in the street by the time the credits rolled. But that was the story. The names mattered. So here’s a heads up: Your characters might be begging for a different name if you would just listen.

Are you having trouble getting that guy you introduced on page 24 to fit into the costume you decided he should wear? Maybe the costume doesn’t fit the name you have pinned onto that character. Change the name and see if he looks better in that outfit. I mean really, would a guy named Bruno Lipbuster look right in a Saville Row suit? Or would Maisie Dalrimple look right with a crown on her head as queen of a mythical country in Europe?

Johnny Casino, the main character in my Johnny Casino Casebook Series, got his name when I thought about who he was and what he did for a living. He’s a private detective, so I wanted him to have a detective’s name. I knew his first name was going to be Johnny. But what about his last name?

My first thought was Sam Spade from Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon. I loved that movie and Bogie as Sam Spade. Then an old TV series starring David Jansen popped into my head. His name was Richard Diamond in the show.

That’s when I started to see a mental pattern forming. The characters’ last names were the suits on playing cards. The third name would be heart. What about Jonathan Hart in the old TV series Hart to Hart?

Okay, those names were all taken. What about the last suit of cards in the deck? That would be clubs. I couldn’t think of any character in movies or TV that was called Club. BUT, what is another name for a club? Not the wooden object that hits you over the head, but the one where you play cards: a casino. Ah.

I had a name: Johnny Casino. I looked up the name on the Internet to see how many times it was used. A character in Grease was named Johnny Casino. There was also a tattoo parlor out here in California, now closed, called Johnny Casino’s Tattoo Parlor. The name wasn’t really over used. I picked that name.

And Johnny liked it, but there was more to his name than I knew at first. Johnny enlightened me. Johnny wasn’t born with the name Johnny Casino. It had been Johnny Cassini. He has a story in the second book, The Johnny Casino Casebook 2 – Looking for Johnny Nobody, that explains how he went from Cassini to Casino. But it all started with Sam Spade and a deck of cards.

And then there was Chance McCoy in my latest detective series. The title of the collection of short stories, Second Chance, and his name hit me like two trains colliding. I had written the first few pages of the first story back in high school. I didn’t know what to do with those pages, so I decided to save them. Sixty years later I looked at that opening and thought that this guy had a second chance in life. Bam! Chance had to be his name. I don’t know where the McCoy came from. Maybe he told me his last name. Nevertheless, I use the word “chance” in every title of every short story in the collection. His first name couldn’t have been anything else.

Minor character’s names seem to come to me when I think about who they are and what their background might be in my story. Elmer and Delmer were two goofy brothers in a short story. The rhyming, old-fashioned names fit the type of people I wanted them to be.

Dale Carr’s moniker was a take-off on actor Glenn Ford’s name. (A glen is another word for a dale; a Ford is a car.) I had my character basically co-opt the life of actor Glenn Ford, but I didn’t feel right using his real name in the story. I did use some parts of his life like a location that was used in one of his movies.

I did sort of the same thing in my spy novels though I did use real historical characters like Eisenhower and Ian Fleming and a few others. They dropped in for a guest appearance. Everybody else was a character that I created like Rhoda Zimmerman and Martha Rose. These two ladies were minor characters in the third spy novel, Star Power. The book dealt with communism in Hollywood starting back in the 30s and 40s. Both ladies were big-time communists. Both names are also a version of the color red. I’m not the first person to use that color to denote a fellow traveler. Communists did it themselves for aliases.

Many people in old Hollywood were Jews. I had a few guys with Jewish names appear like Sidney Berman and Martin Zimmerman. When I wanted a name that sounded like a famous writer I chose William Durack. How about an agent named Peter Roth? The name sounds like a talent agent.

I did have to consider the era in which the majority of the book takes place. No Tiffany’s, Amber’s or Kanisha’s welcome. I used Lillian and Estelle instead. And a maid called Hilda Brown. Back in that era many gals who went into domestic work were right off the boat from Germany or England, so they got the gig.

In the second book in the spy series called Dry Bones, I have Oriental characters. The Internet has places you can check to see what various Oriental names mean. One of the main characters in the book is Trang van Quang – Trang means intelligent, beautiful/ Van means cloud/Quang means clear. I liked what that name meant. Quang’s adopted daughter was called Su Linh – Linh means spring, soul. That totally fit her.

A recurring character in all three of the spy novels is an Air Force pilot named Major Ralph M. Barton. It’s no coincidence that the guy flew C-47s and was stationed in Okinawa, Memphis, France, and Florida. And that he had a daughter named Elaine who ended up being a writer who, in the first book, wrote a very similar book in order to catch a traitor. That was part of the plot. You see, my late dad’s name was Major Ralph M. Bartos, USAF retired. My middle name is Elaine. I knew these characters really well and the names had to be that close to the original people so I could tell the story. (Not everything in my spy novels is fiction, by the way.)

So my point in this piece is to mention how important names are to you and to the reader. Play with the names you have chosen. If those characters don’t speak to you, think about changing them until they won’t shut up. (Thanks Mr. Leonard for your quote.) The right name will help you write your story.

As with everything else in our lives, things can change in our publishing careers.  Sometimes they’re for the better, sometimes not.

I’ve been writing for a long time, which isn’t surprising since Visionary Wolf, my Harlequin Nocturne that’s being published in November, is my 50th traditionally published novel.  During all those years, I’ve been dumped by two new editors assigned to me at different houses, though I still managed to continue with my publishing career–with the same publishing company in one instance.  But those editor changes still managed to move my career in different directions.

I’ve also had several mystery series that I was writing end, for different reasons.  Also, Visionary Wolf will be my last Nocturne despite its being my ninth book in my Alpha Force miniseries because the Nocturne line is ending, which I’ve known for a while.

And now?  Well, I recently learned that my current mystery publisher, Midnight Ink, is going out of business next year.  It’s part of Llewellyn, which will continue, but no more cozy mysteries.

I’d already had my first series with them, the Superstition Mysteries, end for various reasons.  There have been four books in my current series, the Barkery & Biscuits Mysteries, and I’ve turned in the manuscript for the fifth, which is to be a May 2019 release.

You notice that I didn’t put that sentence into the past tense.  The MI authors were notified that although the company wasn’t buying any more books, those scheduled at least through July 2019 will still be published.  Hopefully, that will remain the case.

But even so, there won’t be any more Barkery mysteries unless I find another publisher or decide to self-publish them.

Not sure yet what I’ll be doing, though I’m currently plotting new series ideas as well as others.  Plus, I hope to remain published in romance, too.

Other career changes?  Well, once upon a time I was a practicing attorney who also wrote fiction, before I became a full time writer.  And before becoming a lawyer, I worked in advertising and public relations.

And you?  Whether you’re a writer or a reader or both, I’m sure you’ve seen changes in your life, both professionally and personally.  It definitely is part of living, and hopefully the changes are good–or we learn to somehow make the best of them.

What’s changed in your life lately?

Oh, and by the way: Happy Halloween, everyone!

“Why do we do it, eh?  Write, I mean…”

It’s a way of life for so many of us. We have to write, even if no-one else sees our scribbling. Sometimes we get published – sometimes our writing stays hidden. We write in snatched moments between life’s challenges – often turning those very challenges into the next short story or novel.

I find other writers always fascinating to talk with; we know a little bit or a lot about so many subjects and have researched a lot of different topics. Although some of us are more hermits than others; some more prolific than others and some more disciplined than others. There’s a basic shared language with other scribes. But we each have our own reason for doing what we do: writing.

For me, it’s my way of having a voice. Not everyone wants to sit and listen to me pontificating. But when I write, my readers can choose – or not – to read what I have written whenever they want.

I have written since I was little, starting with children’s short adventure stories. Flights of fancy that took me into magical worlds – long before Harry Potter came along.

As I grew older, I became fascinated with the old Hollywood movies and my writing morphed into something else.

My first published books were non-fiction: Los Angeles Then and Now and Hollywood Then and Now, about the history of Los Angeles and Hollywood. I loved the research involved and found so many more ideas to write about. One of these ideas became the Lottie Topaz series. I now write mystery stories. My paternal grandfather was a detective with the Bristol police, so it must be in the genes.

 I realized I loved sharing the knowledge I uncovered about Hollywood in those very early days. I want people to know what it was really like back then. I want to share what I know: To show what the old movie sets were like during silent movies – the open top stages standing cheek-by-jowl with each other. Because there was no sound recorded in those days, there was a cacophony of music, actors talking, the director calling out directions, laughter, screams – all at the same time from different corners of the movie lot. I write about the little details of Lottie’s make-up case, showing what make-up was used in 1925; a lot of this was gleaned from my mum who devoured Hollywood magazines as a young girl and subsequently instilled in me a fascination for that era.

In these books, I write about how Hollywood used to be. I like to bring to life what it was like back then. Through my writing, I also hope to take readers on the same journey that fascinated me so – and take them away from today’s troubles and challenges. I love disappearing into that other world. I hope readers will feel the same.

I write about my travels – sharing those experiences on the page. I have had a lot of adventures in my travels, mostly throughout Europe on film locations when I worked first as an actress and then later as a journalist, and I love to share those times – especially on the written page.

Once I moved to Hollywood and then travelled across the States on movie locations and later exploring with my American husband, I experienced more places to write about. I had created a whole new life for myself and became a proud American Citizen… with more writing topics.

After my husband, Rick, died suddenly, I didn’t know how to talk about it. I cried a lot – but I found solace in writing. First, I wrote to my husband and best friend, in a journal, frequently in those early days. I still write to him, sharing the thoughts about each day. It helps.

Ironically, I found a Blog called Planet Grief. It was written by  English children’s author Helen Bailey, after her husband tragically drowned in Barbados in 2011. “A wife at breakfast. A widow by lunch,” she later wrote. Grief stricken, Helen was unable to get back to her children’s books, so she began writing the blog. She called it Planet Grief, because she felt that without her beloved husband John, she was living on another planet. Others who had lost loved ones responded to her blog that was filled with tears and laughter and tales of their pet dachshund. She even met some of her followers in a local Coffee Shop, to commiserate.

Some years after, she met a new beau and they moved in together. In April 2016, I read a headline in the English papers: “Children’s writer and her dog missing.” Some months later the two bodies were found in a cesspit at her new home. Helen and her dog had been drugged – by the new beau. He was found guilty and sent to prison earlier this year. His first young wife had died suddenly in their garden ten years before he met Helen Bailey. Police are now re-examining that death.

So the writer in me was fascinated with this whole saga. My mind is still spinning storylines from the awful details. And I am sure many other writers also found a morbid interest in this tale.   That’s the way my writer’s mind works. I can’t help it. Just as I can’t help writing – about everything. 

I wonder about my fellow writer friends. Why do you do it, eh? Write, I mean.