Happy July Fourth!

by Linda O. Johnston

    It's the first Monday of the month, which is when I post my blog here at InkSpot.  It's also the Fourth of July.  Independence Day.  An important national holiday.  A day of freedom.

   So what am I going to do?  Write, of course!

   I'm delighted that I have the freedom to write.  I've retired from my career as a lawyer, and though I miss it I now can create even more stories that originate in my own mind.  I was a transactional attorney, which means I handled--what else?--transactions.  I didn't go to court, but I negotiated contracts.  And I've always said that contracts are just another form of fiction.

   And now I'm all about fiction.  And dogs.  In fact, most of my fiction contains dogs.

   Plus, as long as I've been at this, I'm still learning.

   What am I learning?  Well, for one thing, that I'm not the only one who loves dogs.  When I communicate with readers or other writers, they often let me know about their own dogs.  And it's certainly fun to write about those smart and sweet creatures.

   Then there's the fact that killing people is a good way of easing tensions--as long as it's done fictionally.  I often say I'm glad I've had books published, since if anyone hacked into my computer and saw what I research they might think I'm really a killer.

   And I'm always learning more as I delve into research for each series, and each book in the series.  For my Barkery & Biscuits stories, I'm learning about things that are healthy to feed dogs, and for my Superstition Mysteries I'm learning more about superstitions.  My most recent release from Midnight Ink was TO CATCH A TREAT, the second Barkery mystery, and my third Superstition Mystery, UNLUCKY CHARMS, will be published in October.

   Will I learn even more?  Of course!  Mysteries always require research.  And I also write romances and additionally research stuff involved in their backgrounds.

   In any event, I'm glad I have the freedom to write what I consider to be fun.  And that others have the freedom to read what I write!

   So, happy Fourth of July everyone!  Hope you enjoy the fireworks wherever you are.  And please make sure your pets are safe.

Every Day’s a Gift

I’ve thought about writing this blog post for years. I finally did it the other day while I was sitting at the vet with Tasha (the inspiration for my mystery series) and waiting for her to go in for an MRI.  The lesson was powerful for me, and I hope it someday helps you, too. Then again, perhaps you’re smarter than I am and don’t need it.  ;-)

Tasha-dog recovering from her MRI with best buddy Teddy

 

.

Love comes to us in packages we don’t expect—some we may think we don’t even want.

Mine, as most of you know, lives in the form of a 100-pound German shepherd named Tasha. An animal who has changed my life in so many ways. An animal who is the inspiration for my mystery series. An animal who has connected me with some of the best people in my life. An animal without whom, I wouldn’t be writing to you today.

But our life together has been far from easy.

When she was four months old, Tasha started exhibiting significant health and behavior problems. In spite of the best veterinary care, four trainers and three animal behaviorists, by the time she was two, the problems had gotten worse. Euthanasia was mentioned more than once as a reasonable option.

I never considered it.

Then she hit age three, and we had a particularly bad day. I remember thinking that night—perhaps even muttering it out loud—that my life would be easier if Tasha died.

Tasha and the universe discussed it for two weeks, then decided to grant my wish.

The only noticeable symptom on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving eight years ago was that Tasha didn’t want to go on her afternoon walk. By six that evening, I cradled her head in my hands and told her I wasn’t mad at her anymore. At eight, I told my husband, “I have a bad feeling about this.” He thought she was fine, but didn’t argue. We took my lethargic-but-otherwise-healthy-looking dog to an emergency vet.

At nine, the emergency vet told me that Tasha’s spleen had twisted. If there was no cancer—a big if—Tasha had a fifty percent shot of surviving the surgery to remove it, and then a fifty percent shot of surviving the forty-eight hours after surgery.

Then she handed me a hospitalization and surgical estimate for an amount most people would pay for a used car and gave us a choice: pay and take our chances, or euthanize. Tasha wouldn’t live the night otherwise.

Euthanasia was not an option.

I collapsed sobbing outside the clinic, convinced that I had made this happen. That my stupid, not-even-true wish was going to take my dog’s life. My husband, being smarter than I, said something like, “Well, if you wished this, take it back!”

I never prayed so hard in my life.

By midnight, Tasha had obtained two blood transfusions so she’d be stable enough for surgery. At three a.m., I received a call saying that she had survived surgery. Forty-eight hours later, the vets let her come home and agreed that she would live provided there was no cancer. The cancer-free biopsy came back a few days later.

I could finally breathe again.

Why do I write about this? I will never forget that night or the gift of getting my girl back. She mellowed as she got older and the behavior issues lessoned significantly, but no matter how bad the day—and there have been a few bad ones since then—I have cherished my girl.

Every night I say a prayer thanking God, the universe, and whoever else is listening for giving her back to me. I know that every day I’ve had with her since then has been a gift. Each prayer ends with the mantra, “May Tasha have a long and happy life.”

We all have days that seem unbearably tough. Times our loved ones disappoint us. Times we disappoint ourselves. My challenge to each of you is to find gratitude—and express it—even on those days.

Every one of them is a gift.

Tracy Weber


Preorder my newest mystery, KARMA'S A KILLER, now at Amazon Barnes and Noble.

Yee haw, yippee, and yahooey!

Check out Tracy Weber’s author page for information about the Downward Dog Mysteries series.  A KILLER RETREAT and MURDER STRIKES A POSE are available at book sellers everywhere

Farewell Is A Killer

By Tj O’Connor, author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell

 

As a mystery writer, death becomes almost cliché—at least, fictional death. It’s the heart of a story and everything surrounds it. We treat death as no more than a plot and the make-believe root of our writing lives. It’s easy to forget what death really is.

In real life, it’s truly a killer.

Saying good-bye is one of the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. It was no matter that it came at the end of a long, wonderful, and full life, either. It was still hard. Gut-wrenching. Sad.

I am generally a tough guy—not a muscled bouncer or martial arts Ninja—although in my past years I could be pretty tough, too. No, I control my emotions from others’ perception and choose to most often. Friends and family have thought me removed, even unfeeling at times. That’s not from a lack of emotion—no, not all—but from an ability to take those feelings and lock them up when it’s needed. Maybe it’s from years under an abusive father. Maybe it’s from my often tumultuous past life. Or, perhaps, it’s just my way of protecting myself.

But not with Mosby. Not when it was his time. I lost my way to the emotion-lockbox. My stone exterior crumbled to tears and pain—a weeping, trembling wreck. My boy—best friend and companion—was done. Mos, my 90 pound yellow Lab had reached the end of his 14-plus years and couldn’t go on. He had tumors, cancer, arthritis, and lord only knows what else—although you’d never know it. We cared well for him and up until the last week of his life, there had been little pain but for the arthritis in his knees. A few good meds and my carrying him up and down stairs whenever he wished took care of that. He repaid me with devotion. When not stalking me for a treat or meal, he was sleeping close to my desk or at my feet watching a movie. Never complaining. Never grumbly or irritable. Never far away. 

At the end, he was just done—his life was yesterday and there was no more to have. His body was failing and his dignity was nearly spent. His pure bred Lab companions—Maggie, the Chocolate, and Toby, the Black—were constant attendants. Toby walked at his side up and down the stairs whenever I was not near—gently pushing him against the wall to keep him from stumbling. Mags found me whenever the old boy needed something and I failed to noticed. He had raised them from pups and they were shouldering him in his last days.

People should have such compassion and loyalty. People should try to understand the love and devotion that Mos gave to everyone. I challenge you.

 

As a young dog, Mos grew up with five teenagers my wife and I raised in North Western Virginia. His favorite things were food, toys, family, food … and rules. If there was a rule in the house—for dog of child—he enforced it. If the boys were getting too rough around the basement pool table, Mos summoned me. If my cooking threatened to alert the smoke alarm, he barked a warning. If one of the other dogs were out of line, he sought their correction.

Except at Christmas time. Rules be damned.

 

Christmas with five teenagers was a free-for-all. And our kids always made sure they had a wrapped present for Mos and the others. And up until Christmas morning, they hid presents in their rooms out of sight and mind. Did you ever try to hide a dog toy from a Lab? Before Christmas Eve, Mos would have found each and every one of his presents and deftly opened them—so much for rules! One year, he opened my daughters closet door to dig beneath the family presents and retrieve his own. How? Because at an early age he learned to roll his nose between doorknobs and doorframe and open a door. How did he know which were his gifts and which were not? Practice.

His favorite game—other than eating—was hide and seek. One of my daughters, and later one of my grandchildren, often played with him often. She’d sneak away and hide, and within minutes, Mos had patrolled the house and sniffed her out. A bark, a pat, a treat, and he was on the chase again.  

Mos was the center of the family and for good reason. He played Frisbee with everyone. Stayed close for the beer pong and pool games. Was within arm’s reach of the grandchildren as they learned to walk and play. He even sat at the dinner table—yes, in a chair—to listen to evening banter and share in the laughs. But no responsibility was as important to him as being my co-author, office mate, late-night movie partner, and constant foot-warmer. Well, perhaps dinner-time taste-tester! Even at the end in my home office, Mos barked for me to help him move from wherever he was to wherever I was—that distance could be no more than feet. If that was in the basement gym, than damn the stairs and carry him down.

Mosby died Veteran’s Day—three months ago. It’s only been a short time and I still get up in the morning and step careful beside the bed for fear I might step on him. As I work in my den, his ashes are nearby beside a ceramic likeness and a photograph. It’s taken me these three months to have the clearness of vision to write these words. Yet, I cannot say good-bye. The starch of my emotions fail me with his memory so much that I cannot bury him—should we ever leave this home, I could never leave him behind.

What a sap. What a woosie boy. What a cry-baby! No—he earned every tear I’ve shed.

My only solace is that at 14 +, he did not go because of his ailments over the years that I lined up doctors to cure. He loved life and family and dinner and toys. He reveled in the love he received from all of us. His life had been so full, it could simply take no more. There was nothing more for him and he made room for another to find this home. In time—not soon—we’ll do that.

Life is like that. It gives and takes. I think you have to give first because when it takes, it’s too late to make up for the loss. You have to pay in advance. With Mos, we paid plus interest. I know he knew that. At the end, he found the strength to climb onto my bed—something he hadn’t done in over two years—and lay his head on my lap. He wanted me to know it was time ... and that it was okay.

Mosby’s his first love, Belle, passed this last week, too. Belle was Mos’ age and was my daughter’s dog. We got her thirteen years ago to be his companion while the family was at work. They grew up together and when my daughter married and moved across the county, Belle went with her. We, of course, had brought Maggie into the family by then. Like Mos, Belle succumbed to life. She was14 plus years, too, and had a full life. Losing those two so close together was devastating to us all. Strangely, one has to wonder if they were not supposed to be together. Dogs need companionship—perhaps here and there, too.

One can hope.

My current mystery series, The Gumshoe Ghost, has Hercule, a black Lab as a key character. Not because I wanted to fit into the cozy community or knew in advance having an animal was chic. I included Hercule because Labs are so much a part of my life that I couldn’t see my character not having one. In the future, the importance of a dog will have a new meaning.

I’m still surrounded by sweet, loving Labs (and another daughter’s Mastiff, too). They keep me company as I toil over my keyboard. They are a great comfort and as close to me as Mos ever was. Yet, no matter how close they are, there is still that void.

I hope it doesn’t leave too soon. Pain is a reminder of loss. I don’t mind keeping him around a little while longer—even if it’s painful. Nothing so important should be easily lost.

A lot of you will understand me having to commit this to words. For those of you who can’t—or who call me a silly man—you have no idea what you’re missing. Deep down, loss reveals something so amazing.

 Tj O’CONNOR IS THE AUTHOR OF DYING FOR THE PAST and DYING TO KNOW, available in books stores and e-books from Midnight Ink. His third paranormal mystery, DYING TO TELL, will be released January 2016. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying for the Past and Dying To Know are the first of eight novels to be published.  Learn more about Tj’s world at www.tjoconnor.com and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/TjOConnor.Author

Can Yoga Really Be Murder?

Photo Courtesy of Christopher Brown

How do you reconcile writing both about yoga (which advocates nonviolence) and murder?

I was recently asked this question when talking about the second book in my Downward Dog Mystery series, A Killer Retreat.

 

This is such an interesting question, and one that I’ve only been asked a handful of times. First, I’ll say my genre, cozy mysteries, helps.  By convention, gore and on-the-page violence are minimized. There are definitely some tense and challenging scenes, however. I try to balance them with humor.

But even if I wrote horror, I could still combine murder and yoga in the same work. The yoga teachings never promise that yogis will live in a world without violence. In fact, they say that suffering is inevitable. What they do promise is that people who practice yoga—which is so much more than doing poses—will be able to survive life’s traumas with less emotional suffering.  They also ask that yogis personally practice compassion, honesty, and nonviolence in actions, words, and thoughts.

Yoga practitioners, like everyone else, live in the real world. We are exposed to the same triggers and conflicts and traumas. Yoga doesn’t stop what happens around us; it simply gives us choices in how we react to it. So it’s not a big stretch (so to speak) to have violence, tension and other challenges in the world of a yoga teacher. In an ideal world, she would simply be better prepared to deal with them.

But the truth is Kate—my yoga sleuth—doesn’t live in an ideal world, and she doesn’t always react like the perfect yogi. She has a terrible temper, and she often acts impulsively, only to regret it later. When Kate’s at her best, she responds to the tension and heartache in her world with self-deprecating humor and compassion. When she’s at her worst, she lashes out in sometimes embarrassing ways.

Overall, Kate tries to be compassionate and generous. She helps others when it would be much easier not to.  When she screws up, which is often, she tries to learn from her mistakes and to do better in the future.

To me, that is yoga.

 

What do you think?  Can a book contain both yoga and murder while still being loyal to both the mystery and the teachings?  I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

          

About Tracy:

My writing is an expression of the things I love best: yoga, dogs, and murder mysteries. I'm a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, WA. I enjoy sharing my passion for yoga and animals in any form possible.  My husband and I live with our challenging yet amazing German shepherd Tasha and our bonito flake-loving cat Maggie. When I’m not writing, I spend my time teaching yoga, walking Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at my favorite local ale house.

For more information, visit me online at http://tracyweberauthor.com/ and http://wholelifeyoga.com/

Yoga Studios Fact and Fiction

First of all, I’d like to say that I’m absolutely delighted to be part of the regular blog rotation on Inkspot. Anyone who’s read my first book knows that my series features a yoga studio owner with a crazy German shepherd sidekick. (Kate’s other claim to fame is that she occasionally stumbles over dead bodies.) Anyone who’s read my bio knows that I’m also yoga studio owner with a crazy German shepherd sidekick. 

 

So, a question naturally arises. Is Kate really me and is Bella really my German shepherd, Tasha?  The answers to both of those questions are a little “yes” and a lot “no.”  But those are blog articles for another day. The question that I haven’t been asked (at least not that I remember) is whether Kate’s studio, Serenity Yoga, is actually my studio, Whole Life Yoga.

The answer?  A little yes and a lot no.  ;-)  

Similarities between the two businesses:

·        Location location, location. Both studios are located in the Greenwood neighborhood of Seattle, in newer construction mixed use buildings (meaning that there are businesses on the ground floor, apartments above). The surrounding businesses, however, are different. Kate is blessed with a grocery store, a Greek deli, and Pete’s Pets (a pet food store) as neighbors.  I am blessed with a hair salon, an Irish dance studio, and a sports bar.  Both studios are located on the same block as several infamous dive bars.

·        Gremlins.  In my first book, Kate’s studio is plagued by a variety of mysterious issues, including plumbing problems, an “unlockable” front door, and mysteriously flickering lights.  My studio has struggled with the same issues.  The door lock and toilet have been replaced, but we still can’t figure out those darned lights, after 10 years of trying. And now there’s the phantom wall squeak….

·        Murder. About a year after my first book was finished, a man was murdered in a pet store parking lot a block away from my studio.  Kate finds her first body in the parking lot shared by her studio and the pet store.  Hopefully that trend won’t continue.

Differences:

·        Size matters.  Kate’s studio is bigger than mine and offers significantly more classes.  She spends a lot more time on site at her studio than I do as well.  (I manage my business from a home office.)

 

·        Yoga lineage.  There are a gazillion types of yoga out there, and Kate’s studio offers many of them. (Except for hot yoga—she could never afford the heat bills!)  My studio is dedicated to the Viniyoga lineage, and all of the teachers who work at Whole Life Yoga have been personally certified by me.

·        Longevity.  My studio opened in 2001.  Kate’s has only been open for about two years when the first book opens.  She’s facing many of the financial struggles I did when I first opened, but thankfully most of those days are behind me.

In the end, the biggest similarity between the two studios is their intent.  Both Kate and I believe that yoga can serve all people regardless of shape, size, age, or fitness level.  That includes you!

Go out and find your own version of Serenity Yoga!

Namaste

Tracy Weber

          

About Tracy:

My writing is an expression of the things I love best: yoga, dogs, and murder mysteries. I'm a certified yoga teacher and the founder of Whole Life Yoga, an award-winning yoga studio in Seattle, WA. I enjoy sharing my passion for yoga and animals in any form possible.  My husband and I live with our challenging yet amazing German shepherd Tasha and our bonito flake-loving cat Maggie. When I’m not writing, I spend my time teaching yoga, walking Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at my favorite local ale house.

For more information, visit me online at http://tracyweberauthor.com/ and http://wholelifeyoga.com/

Catching Several Birds with One Book

by Sheila Webster Boneham

Yippee! It's alive! It's launched! It's a book! Oh, sorry, but even after nineteen books published, it's still exciting to know that the new one is out there, on bookstore shelves, in libraries, on e-readers, in people's hot little hands. My new one is The Money Bird, second in my Animals in Focus Mystery series. The first book, Drop Dead on Recall, has been well received, especially among my fellow dog & cat fanciers and dog-sport enthusiasts. It was even named one of the Ten Best Dog Books of 2012 by NBC PetSide! 

The Money Bird begins when photographer cum accidental amateur sleuth Janet MacPhail sees her friend Tom's dog, Drake, retrieve something mysterious during a retriever training session. As in the first book, the setting for the story includes an animal-oriented activity taking place in northeastern Indiana. I've been involved with animal sports since I was a kid -- first with horses, then with dogs -- and I've been writing about dogs and cats for nearly 20 years, so I know this world and its many characters well. 

I know that there's more to the world of animals, even those we bring into our homes as companions, than sometimes meets the public eye. Although my first goal as a mystery writer is to spin an entertaining story, I also hope to tickle my readers' curiosity bones. I believe that fiction can raise people's consciousness without beating them over the head, which is why my mysteries all quietly raise issues for consideration. In The Money Bird, the issue is wildlife trafficking, specifically the ugly but lucrative trade in tropical birds, many of them members of endangered species. 

So in The Money Bird we have dogs -- lots of dogs, many of them wet! -- and Leo, Janet's heroic little cat, and some birds who shouldn't be flying around a lake in northern Indiana. And aside from all this, Janet has to continue to meet her normal challenges: she's running a business, dealing on many levels with her mother's dementia, and trying to sort out just what she wants her relationship with Tom to be. That's a lot of birds - let's hope Janet has a big net!

~~~~

Sheila Boneham has published 17 nonfiction books about dogs, cats, and animal rescue, six of which have won "best book" awards in their categories in competitions of the Dog Writers Association of America and the Cat Writers' Association. Her feature articles have been published in Dog Fancy, Dog World, The AKC Gazette, Cat Fancy, and more. She holds a PhD in folklore from Indiana University and an MFA in creative writing from the University of Southern Maine. Sheila lives in North Carolina with her husband Roger and her retriever girls, Lily the Lab (that's her, not Sheila, in the photo!) and Sunny the Golden. She's at work on the third Animals in Focus Mystery. You can reach her at www.sheilaboneham.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/sheilawrites. She'd love to hear from you!

What My Dogs Have Taught Me About Writing

by Sheila Webster Boneham

For the past couple of decades, I've spent a lot of time, energy, sweat, tears, and love on my writing and on my dogs. In that time, I've written twenty plus books, had articles and short stories published in national magazines, anthologies, and journals, and in itty bitty newsletters.

In that time I've also not only lived with and loved a lot of dogs (and cats, but they'll have their day later), but also competed with my dogs in several sports, founded two rescue programs, fostered and rehomed many Labrador Retrievers, Australian Shepherds, and other dogs, volunteered as a trainer and evaluator for three shelters, volunteered with my registered therapy dogs, and bred highly competitive Australian Shepherds. 

Sunny (left) and Lily, aka
UCDX Diamonds Perennial Waterlily
AKC CD RN TD CGC, ASCA CD, TDI

Right now, my husband and I share our home with Lily, a 7-year-old Lab, and Sunny, a Golden Retriever we adopted last November when she was 11.5.  

As you might imagine, my Animals in Focus mysteries have paw prints all over them. Dogs, cats, and other animals are realistic, vital characters and are essential to the plots of the books. What most people don't imagine is how many of the lessons my dogs have taught me over the years apply to writing as well. So I thought I would share a few of them.

Sage, aka Perennial Meadowsage,
retrieving at 7 weeks old. 

Work is play, play is work. The expression "work like a dog," means to labor without joy, but the truth is that dogs who have fun work harder and better. Even when there's heavy lifting involved. 

Jay (UCD Perennial See You At
the Top, AKC CD, RN, CGC,
ASCA CD, Delta) & Lily

You don't always have to do what you're told, but....

Summer (Master Agility Champion
Perennial Hot Sultry Summer)

...sometimes you have to jump through hoops to get the reward.

Kitty Boneham, dog expert.

Ideas can come from unexpected sources, so don't discount anyone. 

Me and Katy during a canine safety
session at an elementary school.

It's important to make time for your friends. Writing is a solitary pursuit, but without love, friendship, and social interaction, we have nothing to write about. 

And now, according to my technical advisors, it's time for a game of tennis ball!



Sheila Webster Boneham is the author of 17 nonfiction books about dogs and cats as well as the Animals in Focus mystery series. Drop Dead on Recall came out in 2012, and The Money Bird will be out next month. Autographed copies of Sheila's books are available on her website at www.sheilaboneham.com. 

Yoga Can Be Murder

A yoga student approached me after class recently, looked at my bookmarks, and frowned. He phrased his next comment politely, but the gist was this: “What kind of demented yoga teacher writes books about murder?”

I stammered and stuttered a lame, joking reply, assuring him that no yoga students had been harmed in the making of my books. Looking back, I should have reframed the conversation. Instead of assuring him that I wasn’t psychotic, I should have told him why I write yoga mysteries. If I could re-do the conversation, here’s what I’d say.

My light-hearted mysteries allow me to share my love of yoga with people I may never meet.

Good fiction immerses the reader in a world they might otherwise never experience.  I hope to show my readers that yoga is for everyone—especially those of us who are far from perfect. Even better, I hope my book is entertaining enough to entice a reader or two to try yoga.

Kate Davidson, my novel’s protagonist, is a yoga teacher. Unlike the models in Yoga Journal, Kate has laughably tight hamstrings, chubby, cellulite-ridden thighs, and she drinks a bit more wine than she probably should. Kate tries to live up to yoga’s principles of satya (truth), ahimsa (non-violence), and karuna (active compassion).

She often fails.

Kate has temper more like a fighting rooster than the Dalai Lama, and she sometimes acts impulsively, only to regret it later. Yet she believes in yoga and dedicates her life to sharing it with others. If Kate loves yoga, anyone can love yoga—even mystery fans who have never considered trying it.

People are murdered in my work, but death isn’t the only theme.

Solving crime definitely takes center stage in my books, but murder isn’t the only focus.  My agent says that my first book—Murder Strikes a Pose—is ultimately about love. I didn’t realize it until I heard the words, but she’s right.

The book illustrates how love can damage us, if we let it.  Throughout its pages, normally good people do extreme—some might say evil—acts to protect those they love. But beyond that, the story shows how love transforms us, when we are ready. Overall, it promises that love saves us.

If my books were movies, they’d be rated PG-13—at most.

The Downward Dog Mysteries are written in the cozy mystery genre.  Cozies are typically light-hearted, often funny (I think mine are!) and written to appeal to the faint of heart.  Gore is minimized; killing takes place off screen; sex happens behind closed doors.  My mother read Murder Strikes a Pose, and she still thinks I'm a nice girl.

Last but not least, I love it!

But if I’m honest, the real reason I write yoga mysteries is simple. I’m a huge mystery fan, my life-work is yoga, and I’m absolutely, embarrassingly, head-over-heels crazy about my German shepherd, Tasha.  I write about a yoga teacher who solves murders with a wacky German shepherd sidekick.

Writing about yoga, dogs, and murder….What could be more fun?

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and join my author mailing list for updates on MURDER STRIKES A POSE, available January 8, 2014 from Midnight Ink!

Details, Details

by Sheila Webster Boneham

 



Years ago (at least fifteen), I passed a novel I had enjoyed along to my husband. Roger is a geologist, and the "love interest" in the book is a geologist, and I thought he might enjoy the story and relish meeting one of his own in a romantic lead of sorts. And he did, for the first chapter or so. Then he put it down in disgust.

"Some geologist!" he said.

Turns out the guy in the book had waxed eloquent about the cleavage in a piece of quartz. Problem is, quartz has no cleavage (which means that when it breaks, it has no parallel surfaces). That booboo clattered right by me, but for the reader in the know, it was a book-stopper.

I run into this all the time in books with animals, especially dogs. (I've shown, bred, rescued, written about, trained, and judged dogs for more than two decades, so, yeah, I care that "dog things" are accurate.") I recently read a novel in which the protagonist's dog is identified as a specific rare breed. Exciting! Then the dog is described. She's a color combination that doesn't occur in the breed and she weighs about half what she should. I had enjoyed the first pages of the book, but found it hard to keep reading past such glaring errors.

And then there was the best-selling memoir a few years ago about growing up in southern Indiana, a place of forests, deep ravines, and rolling country that I know well. I perused the book at a conference in Indianapolis, thinking I would buy a copy, but when I read that Indiana is "flat as a pancake," I was finished. Well, almost finished - I did point out the passage to a friend and the two of us snorted and laughed and snarked about pandering to East-Coaster sterotypes about the Midwest. The author's mother was standing right behind us. Ah, well.

I'm sure we've all read things in which some error in our own field of knowledge damaged or destroyed our faith in the author. In fact, almost everyone I've asked about this has produced an example from personal experience. Many of them also express similar reactions. Disappointment ("I was looking forward to this book, and then..."). Loss of trust ("If the author is wrong about the things I know, how can I trust the rest of the information?). Disgust ("It's not that hard to check the facts!").

And really, it's not hard at all. First, of course, we have the Internet. Granted, we have to be judicious about our sources, but as long as we use credible websites, blogs, forums, and other online resources, we can check out almost anything. Or at least get a leg up.

We can also go old school - libraries, books, reference librarians. All good.

We can find people who know. I saved myself from a serious error in Drop Dead on Recall by asking a physician friend read a passage in which a character uses an epinephrin pen on his wife, who seems to be having an allergic reaction. Myfriend's terse response? "Well, he just killed her." Seems my character's technique left a little to be desired. I learned, and he does it properly in the book. In that case, I called on a friend, but it isn't hard to find people in the know, and most people are generous about helping us get things right.

Need the skinny on a location? As my husband, Roger, likes to say, there's nothing like a site visit. Whether its a place or a kind of event or an institutional setting, we can do lots of reading, watch videos and films, peruse photographs, but nothing beats being there. How does the quality of light shift by the minute on the Carolina coast at sunrise? How does the heat dissipate in the high desert as the sun drops behind the Sierras? How does the grooming area at a dog show smell, or the waiting room in a hospital sound? If we can't get there, then once again, finding someone who has been there to read what we write can save us from grievous goofs, and may even give us some telling detail to add.

I'm working on the third Animals in Focus mystery right now, and am planning a couple of site visits of my own. I've already lined up some experts to keep me honest, and I have files upon files of background info. Luckily for me, the research I'm doing for this book isn't tedious at all. I get to interview lots of lovely cats and dogs.

The Arkansas 11

Tom Schreck
author of TKO

As you all know I got a thing for basset hounds.

A week or so ago one of those bastards that operates a puppy mill in Arkansas called a local basset rescue group, told them he was getting out of the business and they better get over to get the 11 hounds within a week or "he'd take care of them."

Translation: he'd kill them.








The Ozark Mountain Basset Rescue was filled up because, being in Arkansas where puppy mills flourish, they are always filled up with abused and neglected hounds.

This is where the story gets good.

The Ozark Basset Folks called the New York Basset Rescue known as All Bassets Cherished. ABC is made up of committed people who don't mess around--especially when someone's mean to a basset hound. They don't hesitate, they don't ask what it's going to cost, they just act.

In 48 hours they had foster homes for the 11 hounds and a couple ABC members were in a truck headed to Arkansas.

They got the hounds and took them to the vet where they were treated for all sorts of neglect--one little guy had to have an eye removed-- and the bassets were all spayed an neutered.

So far the bills are over $3,000 and they aren't done yet.

The hounds are all safely in New York foster homes where undoubtedly they are sitting on the furniture. They've probably all have stolen something off the kitchen counter.

And I bet not a single one has been scolded yet.

ABC is selling autographed copies of my books and I'm giving the cash (even what the books cost me and the shipping) to the Arkansas 11.

Go to nybasset.org and hit "Donate Now" and send them money. If you feel like it buy my silly books.

What are basset hounds like?

Bassets don't do anything you tell them.
They smell kind of houndy.
They bark too much.
They'll eat your furniture.

and they'll love you unconditionally.

If you pay attention they'll teach you to not focus on material things and to get over your own self absorption.

That's what they are good for. That and they make you laugh like hell.

And as for that puppymill guy back in Arkansas, well, I guess I'm glad he's out of the business.

I'll tell you what though--he doesn't deserve to be called a son-of-a-bitch.

Turned Off by Turn Offs

A while back, the topic came up on DorothyL about turn-offs in mystery novels. Show stoppers, those things that when you read them make you put the book down and never pick it up again. Those things that makes you dash off breathless letters of condemnation. Those things, even, that make you want to buy Author Voodoo dolls and use them for a game of Author-in-a-Blender.

Some oft-cited examples, in no particular order:
• Swearing
• Smoking
• Tattoos
• Women protagonists who blindly walk into peril
• People who won't talk to the police
• Sub-plots involving adultery
• Did I mention swearing?
• And smoking?

All this surprised me. First of all, it was a little alarming because my follow-up to Lost Dog features a fair degree of swearing and smoking (and extensive craving of a smoke) as well as people who won't talk to the police and a sub-plot involving adultery. I even have a minor character with lots of tattoos. I don't have a woman protagonist who walks blindly into peril in this one, which is my one saving grace I suppose. Oh, and I don't kill a dog, an act so heinous it doesn't even need to be listed.

My own personal pet peeve, as described in a previous post, is unrealistically great first time sex, with ubiquitous, unstoppable computer hackers running a close second. Other than that, I am pretty tolerant. We're talking about a novel here, after all. It's not like I have to hang out with these people.

Take smoking. My guy, Skin Kadash, smokes like a chimney in Lost Dog, but has mostly quit in my second novel, Chasing Smoke. All throughout Chasing Smoke, however, he's craving a smoke. I mean, he just quit, and it's hard. Sometimes he almost breaks down and lights up, but even when he's not smoking himself he's watching others smoke, and thinking about it. A lot.

Now, I'm not a smoker. I'm not even a former smoker. I'm gracious about it with my friends who do smoke, but I admit I don't care for the smell of tobacco smoke and I don't care for smoker's breath and smoker's hair. But, hey, let's face it, it's not my decision and if my friends want to smoke, it's their choice. If we're out having a beer and a friend lights up, no worries. I like my friends a LOT more than I dislike smoking. And no doubt I have plenty of habits that others don't care for.

In writing about smoking, I went to great lengths to create a character who was sympathetic, and whose need for a smoke actually accentuated his intrigue as a person. Aside from the challenge it posed to me as a writer, it also just fit in with who he is. How successful I am with Skin I'll leave for my readers to decide, but I would hope that no one would dismiss him, or the book, out of hand simply because he's a smoker.

Consider that other great taboo. Killing a dog or cat. As crime fiction writers, we can kill off untold numbers of people, but lay a finger on the fur of a single fictional pet and we're Hitler. Kids are pretty much sacrosanct too, though we're actually allowed to put children in danger at times.

True, some folks have gotten away with the killing of the innocents. Glenn Close still had a career after boiling the bunny. Steven Spielberg still gets to make movies despite T-Rex eating a dog in Jurassic Park II. And there are a number of successful books and films in which children come to a dark end. But for the most part, those are events we dramatize fictionally at our peril. "After he killed the pomeranian, I resolved to never buy another book by him, and to picket bookstores that sell his books, and to mail little ziplock bags of dog doody to his mother, and,... and,... and,..."

That's disappointing to me, and not because I want to kill a dog. I love dogs. And I love kids. And I love people, though certainly not all of them. But as a writer, I want to feel free to tell stories as they unfold, not feel constrained by lists of no-no's. And, as a reader, (and let's face it, I read a LOT more books than I'll ever write), I want authors to feel that they can tell the stories they need to tell without stressing about the Verboten!

I'm not advocating gratuitous butchery here. But let's be honest. We're killers, as writers, and voyeurs of killing, as readers of crime fiction. Even the coziest among us produce a body count that would be shocking if it weren't on the page. The distinction between a bloodless death in the drawing room and serial slaughter in an abattoir isn't all that great, even if sometimes we pretend it is. And certainly I know there are any number of topics that probably cross the line for the vast majority of us. I'm not saying there aren't valid lines. I'm also not suggesting that we have to read or write about topics that don't interest us. There are a million books out there, and none of them are for everyone. I just wonder if, considering the mayhem we do tolerate, some lines aren't a little arbitrary and unmindful of what's really going on here.

I don't smoke, and I don't have a tattoo, and I won't commit adultery. But I write about all these things, and many others that probably make it onto scold's list somewhere. I guess, in the end, if we're okay with Colonel Mustard doing it in the library with a candlestick, might it also be okay if he has a smoke afterwards, and maybe cops a feel from Mrs. White at the biker bar up the road while getting his tats touched up? We're being entertained by imaginary murder. Is a cigarette or illicit affair so awful in comparison?

Rotten Riley

By Tom Schreck,

author of On the Ropes, A Duffy Dombrowski Mystery

That's me and Riley.

Riley's a rescue dog--meaning someone gave him up and he needed a home. Turns out some old lady kept him in a cage all day and called him "Rotten" Riley.

Some group of dog people got him but they said he was aggressive and they recommended that he get put down. Besides that he wasn't a pure bred--he's half bloodhound and somehow that made him less than.

Well, a nice woman named Heather thought the dog group was nuts so she adopted Riley and didn't put him down but added him to her collection of 10 unwanted bassets. She put his photo on Petfinder.com, a spot for rescued dogs.

My first dog Buddy had just died suddenly and we had Agnes, a bloodhound and Wilbur, a basset left. When I saw Riley's lineage something inside of me said he's might be for us. When I called my wife she said he was definitely for us and made me call the woman and set up a road trip.

My wife is like that.

Riley became ours and he didn't come without issues. He was aggressive in his own way and bit both of us once or twice when we broke up fights between him and Wilbur but that was a long time ago. He barks when he gets his food and he does this weird thing where he controls which dog gets to go through the doorway first.

He also took and passed his therapy dog test.

That's right--Ol "Rotten" Riley, once on death row, is a certified therapy dog. He goes to the VA Hospital and visits the locked psychiatric ward where's he's known to steal milk, snacks and sandwiches from the patients.

Nobody complains.

And people who don't smile much smile a little more when Riley takes their milk.

May we all be as rotten.



People like Heather and the rescue groups take care of dogs like Riley and they spend their own money getting them fed, giving them medical care and everything else that goes into caring for a pet. Sometimes they do fundraisers at pet stores and other places. Next time you go past them give them some money or maybe even adopt your own rotten pet.

My very first book signing for On The Ropes benefited the New England Basset Hound Rescue--and even though there were lots of Red Sox fans there I still gave them all the proceeds.

Write Like a Dog

Having spent my entire lifetime in the company and casual study of canines, I realize that their behaviors offer many wise pieces of advice that all writers can use:

Dig Deeply: That’s my lab in the picture again, caught in a moment of uncontrollable exploration, but that precious last morsel could very well be down at the bottom of the bag. Writers need to be able to dig deep, too, whether it’s to the depths of our creative souls or our motivation. Just because the bag looks and feels empty doesn’t mean there isn’t another gem down there. Keep digging.

Sniff the Air Frequently: Why does my middle dog continue to dig the hole that I have filled in three times already? Because her keen sense of smell tells her that the chipmunk’s tunnel lies beneath. A dog’s sense of smell is said to be a thousand times stronger than humans. They have a wider field of peripheral vision and can perceive sounds in a frequency range we cannot. Dogs use their senses to survive. Writers can too. The observations writers make and their awareness of what is going on around them can be critical to developing a realistic, well-described story.

Bark Less, Communicate More: In the natural world, dogs generally don’t bark unless they have a reason to do so. When they do, it’s to communicate something – an alert or to signify who is the alpha dog. Dogs are naturally economical in their communication. Writers should be, too. If the words aren’t necessary, don’t put them down.

Eat, Play, Rest: Oh, to have a dog’s life! My dogs have mastered happiness from this standpoint. Writers live full lives, but there is much to be said for frolicking around with the other dogs and taking naps when the opportunity arises.

Never Pass Up a Bowl of Food: My yellow lab has never passed up a meal in his life. The writing life is fraught with difficult times, so if a free meal is offered, say thanks and take it. If you’re blessed enough to have a full bowl, offer it to the next dog in line.

Sit, Stay: A well-trained dog can sit and stay for quite a long time because that's the task they have at hand. Like I said…writers can learn a lot from dogs.