Kids today are lucky. If  they ask a question, they can get an answer, literally. Well, I’ve just joined the modern generation. After my BlackBerry broke, I bought an Apple iPhone 4S. Now when I want to ask a question, I can ask Siri, Apple’s new voice recognition personal assistant.

The only trouble is, Siri wants nothing to do with me. When I say, “Yo, Siri,” she ignores me, but she’s eager to provide assistance to my husband. My husband says it’s because I‘m a low talker. But once, when my husband asked Siri to find a restaurant in the area, she responded with, “I can’t help you right now. I have a headache.” Or words to that effect, in a tone similar to the smart-ass, passive-aggressive voice of the GPS when he makes a wrong turn and she seethes, “Recalculating.”

So much for Seri. I got along without her before I met her and I can get along without her now.

It’s more difficult to type on the iPhone than my BlackBerry. I press the keyboard and every other key but the one I want appears on the screen. When I first took the phone home, I wanted to throw it in the Chattahoochee River. It was so complicated I couldn’t even figure out how to answer it. But now that we’re getting used to each other, I appreciate the neat features the iPhone offers, including a great camera and the ability to speak into the phone and say, “Siri, call Marissa,” “Siri, call Amanda,” or “ET Phone Home.” I can even see my daughters with one-tap on FaceTime, a video-calling feature.  Or I can take Notes on my iPhone, a handy feature for a writer. There are more applications than I can use in a lifetime. But I know that pretty soon, even my iPhone will be obsolete. 

Every time I turn around, there’s something new out there. Have you ever heard of OkCupid? My daughter and her friends are trying this free online dating service and hoping they don’t get a bunch of bottom feeders. What ever happened to eHarmony® or Match.com®?

The trouble is, change is happening at the speed of light, while I’m slowing down. No sooner do you get used to one technology than another one pops up to take it’s place. Then you have to learn the rules all over again. In most cases, I probably don’t know enough to know if there’s anything new on the horizon.

This morning my husband and I were watching Squawk Box and the co-hosts were talking about Zynga.

“What’s Zynga?” he asked.

And I had to admit I’d heard of it, but I had no idea what it was.   

I’ve heard of Zumba, but never tried it because although I like music, I’m allergic to exercise.

Maybe he meant Zegna, as in Ermenegildo Zegna, the Italian men’s fashion house? Probably not. My husband still wears the same jeans he wore in college in the late ‘60s and early ’70s.

I’ve just about got the hang of Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn—I said I’d never Tweet, but now I’m soaring across the social network.

I just don’t know how much more of this new technology I can take.  

It took me a year to try out my Kindle. I finally did when I downloaded my own eBooks. After that, I was hooked.

How about you? Are you on speaking terms with the latest technology?

 One commenter will win a copy of my new eBook, The Edger, a humorous women’s fiction.

By Marilyn Baron

For those old enough to remember the 1975 action thriller film, Three Days of the Condor, about a CIA researcher (Robert Redford) who goes out for lunch and returns to find that all of his co-workers have been assassinated, you’ll recognize the origin of this blog title.

My daughter, Amanda and her friend and writing  partner, Nicole Goldman, and my sister and writing partner, Sharon Goldman (no relation), arranged a Baron-Goldman Writing Retreat in March at my beach condo in Palm Coast, Florida.

It was a wonderful weekend getaway. First, because I got to spend time with my daughter and my sister, who lives in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. Next, because we spent much of the time on lounge chairs looking out at the ocean, going out to restaurants, resting, reading and, of course, writing.

No hitmen showed up to threaten our lives while we were channeling Hemmingway, just a dolphin (shades of The Old Man and the Sea), but it was a thrilling weekend just the same.

Amanda and Nicole are revising their YA. My sister and I, who published a humorous women’s fiction, The Edger, in January http://www.amazon.com/The-Edger-ebook/dp/B006Y3P12Y/ worked on our musical.

Amanda and Nicole were relentless, working long hours improving their manuscript. Sharon and I fleshed out the characters, outlined each scene of the two-act play and wrote songs. We got a lot accomplished. Since we live in different cities, it was important to have some face time.

Friday morning we shopped at the island Publix and had Publix subs for lunch. Friday night, we enjoyed a pitcher of white sangria and Spanish dishes at The Columbia Restaurant in St. Augustine Beach. I bought a metallic turtle in a quaint shop near the restaurant to hang on my wall in the kitchen.

I made French toast for breakfast one day and omelets the next. My sister made lattes. Saturday night we went to European Village over the bridge for some pizza and pasta and I bought a neat glittery top with a shell/starfish motif at The Coastal Mermaid.  Sunday, on our way home we drove to Gainesville, Florida, for lunch, to celebrate my friend’s birthday at a neat place called Sisters in the Hale Plantation development.

Now you may be thinking, they sure spent a lot of time thinking about food, talking about food, eating food and shopping. And you would be right. Rome wasn’t built in a day. There were a lot of distractions—the ocean right outside our window, the pool below us, the golf course and beautiful grounds in the back. Ocean sounds lulled us to sleep. We walked along the beach, ate ice cream and watched television. And what would a beach vacation be without books?

All in all, our three days at the condo were memorable. It was so nice to get away and relax and write without distractions (well, sort of). Here are some more pictures of our Three Days at the Condo.

Have you ever had your oven break right before you’re expecting a houseful of company? Or had a car accident right before you’re about to leave on an overseas     trip. Or had your washing machine break just when you get back in town with a boatload of dirty laundry? All those things have happened to me and many of you      have probably had bad things happen at inopportune times. Chalk it up to bad      timing. But I never knew the meaning of that phrase until recently.

In October 2010, the weekend of my father’s funeral, my younger brother, Paul, 55,  was hospitalized. The brother for whom my parents prayed after they had three        girls. The brother my father nicknamed, “Paul, can do no wrong.” The brother who   held us all together for days on end while our father died at home under hospice      care. My brother was a rock in the hospital, at my parent’s home and at the funeral.       I don’t know whether it was the shock or stress of the ordeal or divine intervention     that brought out the symptoms, but fortunately, he was hospitalized or they may      never have discovered the problem.

For a week no one knew what was wrong with him. Finally, after a battery of tests,       the verdict. He had a relatively rare form of cancer called leiomyosarcoma, which     even if treated, often recurs, and a tumor in his abdominal cavity the size of an eggplant.

He and his wife went to several specialists, most of whom had never seen this type         of condition. One doctor wanted to remove the tumor immediately. Another recommended a protocol of radiation and then surgery. They finally settled on a       team at Massachusetts General that prescribed 25 days of radiation over a five-        week period, followed by five weeks off to regain his strength and then the surgery, scheduled for late January 2011.

My brother exhibited such courage throughout his treatment. Every day, my         mother, my sisters and I received a text from him after each hospital visit. Some examples of the humor revealed in his texts were:

7^th treatment: Lucky 7

9^th treatment: Nine and doing just fine.

11^th treatment: Ocean’s Eleven

12^th treatment (during December): On my twelfth day of radiation, my technician     said to me.

14th. Halfway clean

16^th: Sweet Sixteen

19^th: Lean mean fighting machine

21^st: Black Jack

23^rd: Almost free

And on the morning of the final treatment:

25. 25. 25. Survived. Survived. Survived. Thank-you for all your support and encouragement.

We were all proud of my brother and his fighting spirit. As his wife said, “Paul is amazing.” I can’t even imagine the kind of courage and fortitude it took to handle     what he was going through, trying to put a positive spin on the situation to make his family feel better. My brother is the kind of person who not only sees the glass as        half full but he sees it as overflowing.

My sisters and I flew to Boston the week of his surgery—a little more than a year         ago. The surgery was successful and at the time he left the hospital, he appeared to      be cancer-free. It was a miracle. Then, three months later a scan revealed the         cancer had returned, with a vengeance—this time there were seven tumors. He underwent many rounds of chemotherapy, trying a variety of different drugs. He   fought with everything he had to live.  And he never complained about the pain or the hand he’d been dealt.

Last month, my sister-in-law informed us that the doctor recommended stopping treatment and going into hospice care in the hospital and then at home. We knew     what that meant—that we were out of miracles. But my brother still did not give up.       I went to visit him in January and he said, “I don’t know when you’re coming back,       but I intend to be breathing.”

The last words he said to his son were, “Life is good.”

Our brother passed away on Valentine’s Day and that is fitting, because we will      always remember him with love. Hundreds of people showed up at his funeral to         pay tribute to him because that’s the kind of man he was. Friends from the old neighborhood came. Friends from his high school football team. Even old        girlfriends came and they wrote in the on-line guest book in the obituary section of     The Miami Herald about what a gentleman he was. One ex-wife of a friend showed     up. He was a positive force in many lives.

Paul loved his garden. In his backyard, out by the pool that overlooks the lake, he       was growing tomatoes and other plants and a magnificent bougainvillea. I’ve tried         to grow them in Atlanta but they aren’t hardy enough to survive. My brother says        the plant dies back but it always blooms again. I think that’s an analogy for his life.  Now my sisters and I look for signs—a vibrant red robin that appears on my back      deck and dead bougainvillea leaves in a garage where no bougainvillea plant grows. One of my sisters asked, “Can you believe Paul is gone?” And I answered, “No.”

My dearest brother Paul, there are so many things I will miss about you—not the      least of which is your booming laugh. We prayed for a miracle and didn’t get one,       but in retrospect, you were our miracle. Your passing leaves a big void in our world,    but we’ll fill it with loving memories of the wonderful person you were and the exemplary life you led. Paul, you were a blessing to our family and you will live in        our hearts forever.

I guess there’s never really a good time to go through an ordeal like this. But it does make you realize how the small things in life that go wrong are really of no consequence. So cherish the people you love and the life you have.

From left: My brother Paul, me, my mother, Lorraine, and my sisters Elaine and Sharon

Okay. You’re finally published, whether through the traditional or indie publishing route. If you don’t have a publicist or an army of marketers from your publishing company at your disposal, you’re on your own. Your book is up on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords, or in a brick and mortar store, but unless you build an audience or generate buzz, they won’t come.

You’ve peddled the book to your friends and family and anyone else who will listen, but that’s not enough to boost sales beyond an initial influx. What’s an author to do?

Turn to your book for the answers. And think outside the box. At the risk of being accused of shameless promotion, I’m going to use my own new novel, The Edger, as an example.

Location. Location. Location.

First, write a press release and send it to your local newspaper(s). For example, you can begin with Roswell author announces the release of her debut novel, The Edger. The better job you can do writing the release, including quotes from you, tailoring it with specific, salient points local readers would be interested in, the more likely an editor is to use it. Sometimes, the newspaper will publish your release without calling you. Sometimes, you’ll get an interview call. That way, people outside your circle of friends will have an opportunity to find out about the book. Send a JPEG image of the book cover and an author photo with the release.  Make sure you include a paragraph describing the book, identify the genre and provide some background about yourself and your writing credentials—awards and other books or stories you have written—and BUY links to the book. Don’t forget to include your contact information in case a reporter wants to make a follow-up call.
I was successful with the local Roswell papers and the release I submitted to my sister and coauthor’s hometown newspaper.

Next, I sent a release tailored to my alumni association magazine touting the fact that my sister and I are both alumnae of University of Florida.

If your book features a character that knits, send a release to a knitting magazine. If it’s about a chef, place an article in a cooking magazine. There are endless possibilities. The Edger featured two artists as the main characters so one idea would be to send a news release to an art magazine.

Spread the news on social networking platforms

Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, etc. Have friends retweet your message for maximum coverage. Blog about the book on your own blog or offer to guest blog on someone else’s blog. Go on a blog tour. There’s a lot of good information about social networking and promoting your book in a blog I wrote for Savvy Authors when I interviewed Barbara Vey and Dianna Love.

Are there any recurring themes used throughout the book? In my case, homelessness, unemployment, cheating husbands, art, and the fact that my hero and heroine are older than the typical 20- to-30-somethings.

I’m not aware of any national publications that focus on cheating husbands, but I did submit a release to AARP – The Magazine – which has a huge circulation, with the headline, “Who Says 50 Can’t Be Sexy?” I don’t know if they will use it, but it’s worth a try.  I also tried the Huffington Post’s HUFF/POST50. I will research a national publication that discusses homelessness.

My book mentions Bloomingdale’s department store a lot. I emailed the manager of my local Bloomie’s to see if he’d be interested in a cross-promotion.

Anything unusual about your novel?

In our case, I included the fact that The Edger was co-written with my sister, Sharon Goldman and that our book included illustrations by Sharon, an award-winning artist in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida.

Rave Reviews.

Ask your friends to review the book on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords and Goodreads. The more good reviews the better. And don’t be afraid to ask for a 5-star review if they like the book. A book can live and die on reviews. Anything less than 5 stars will sink the book’s overall rating. And when you get a great review, Tweet about it and mention it on Facebook.

Every time our book got into a newspaper, my sister called me up and said, “You’re the Man.” Well, I’ve got news for you. Being the man is exhausting. Let me warn you, marketing will take its toll on you at the expense of your writing time. However, if you don’t market, you won’t sell the book. Once you stop, you’ll see your sales drop.

Some authors print custom bookmarks and hand them out. Business cards with the book cover and BUY links can also work. Or you can print color flyers. But don’t overspend or you’ll likely eat up your profits.

Offer to speak at your local library or a local bookstore if your book is in hardcover format. I walked into my library right after an article about our book appeared in the local paper and the librarians came rushing up to me. “Was that you in the paper? I told so and so that was our patron in the newspaper.” Are you in a book club? Perhaps your book club would want to discuss your book?

At the very minimum, send an announcement to your friends and ask them to help you spread the word. Include the cover art and provide the buy links to the book.

I wrote a message for one of my nieces to send out asking my nieces and nephews to form a cousins’ guerilla marketing team.

MISSION POSSIBLE

Aunt Marilyn and Aunt Sharon have just released a new novel called The Edger. This novel is dedicated to the memory of Grandpa George. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to form a cousin’s guerilla marketing team to spread the word with “word-of-mouth” marketing. We’ve attached a flyer to send out to our friends and acquaintances encouraging them to buy the novel and letting them know where they can get it.  

Ask your kids to put it on their Facebook pages. My daughters have a lot more friends on Facebook than I could ever hope to have.

No one is Safe

My brother-in-law sent out this letter to his friends.

Friends and Family,

 Many of you know that Sharon and her sister have been working on a book for the last year and a half. Well, it’s done and no one is safe! Check out the attachment and enjoy the read, just don’t forget that it is fiction! Nothing about the husband is even remotely like me.  Oh, and the twins say they aren’t in the book either.

 He forgot to mention that their rabbit (which looks a lot like Joplin, the rabbit in The Edger, isn’t in the book either).

Here’s some wonderful marketing advice from author James Swain:

• In the Product Description, make sure the reader has a clear understanding of what genre the book falls into. This will help sell the book to future readers.
• You need customer reviews. I’d suggest gifting the book to 15 friends and asking them to read and review. You will get most of your money back from Amazon through the royalty program.
• What categories have you listed the book under? Try to pick categories where you won’t be competing against top writers. Here’s an example. I epublished a book called Wild Card. One of the categories I listed it under was Historical Mystery. I saw that there weren’t many books under this category, and I also saw that Amazon had a Bestseller List devoted to this category (1-100). Many people buy based on these Bestseller Lists, and sure enough, Wild Card got on the Historical Mystery Bestseller List last October, and has been on it most of the time since. You only have to sell 7-10 copies in a day to get your book on some of these lists. Once you get on, you’ll often stay on.
• Last piece of advice. When you e-mail your friends to tell them about the book, stagger the e-mails over a period of a week. A good percentage of your friends will buy the book, and hopefully put your book on a Bestseller List. By staggering your mailing, you’ll ensure that your book stays on the list, which will help sales.

There’s so much more to say about marketing; this blog just scratches the surface. Good luck and feel free to ask questions in the comments section or offer your own marketing advice. One commenter will win a free eBook copy of The Edger.

The Edger is available at Amazon Kindle ASIN: B006Y3P12Y

Barnes & Noble Nook Books and

Smashwords.

The Edger

By Marilyn Baron

It’s the last day of the month at the beginning of a New Year and this year I’m taking a big risk. I always follow the rules, but this year, my sister, Sharon Goldman, and I have decided to venture into uncharted territory, at least for us, and ride the indie publishing wave with the release of our new eBook, The Edger.

I’ve tried the traditional route, diligently, and of course, would still love for that to happen. I have patiently met with editors and agents, submitted queries, waited for responses, sent in partials, even got promising requests for fulls. And I attended conferences and workshops, entered contests, got feedback and polished the manuscript. In fact, our collaboration, The Edger, won first place in the Suspense Romance category of the 2010 Ignite the Flame Contest, sponsored by Central Ohio Fiction Writers Romance Writers of America chapter.

The Edger, which is set in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida, my sister’s hometown, is a humorous women’s fiction about 40-year-old landscape artist Alexandra Newborn’s shocking reunion with her college art professor, Nick Anselmo—once a celebrated Italian artist, now a homeless lawn man—which sows the seeds for murder, mystery and romance. In gratitude for food, art materials and company, Nick, or The Edger, as Alex comes to think of him, drops off a new sketch in front of Alex’s house every week when he comes to do her lawn. Nick’s provocative artwork is the key to revealing a dangerous liaison between Alex’s husband, Mark, and Bitsy Diamond, owner of the gallery where Alex dreams of having a one-woman show. When a deadly hurricane takes a dangerous turn the night of the show opening, Mark’s body washes up behind Bitsy’s beach house, leaving readers to wonder whodunit?

When one editor questioned whether anyone could fall in love with a 50-year-old homeless hero, we knew we had to pursue other options.

Who says 50 can’t be sexy? We’ll put our hunky, homeless lawn man—think George Clooney, Harrison Ford, John Travolta, Mark Harmon, or Pierce Brosnan—up against any Hollywood hottie. In a land where the traditional romance hero is 20- or 30-something, we’re writing what we know. We 50++-somethings still have a lot of life left in us and believe there is a vast audience that wants to read fiction that is relevant to them.

The Edger has something for everyone.  While the novel tackles such serious themes as homelessness and unemployment, it also offers a lighter look at a disillusioned housewife who copes with a cheating husband and a crumbling marriage. The heroine’s husband is every man. Readers may recognize some of Mark Newborn’s less than desirable traits in their own husbands. In fact, when my sister and I get irritated at our husbands we sometimes call them “Mark.” But readers will rejoice in the triumph of a heroine who fights for respect and makes her own dreams come true to find her happy ending

Throughout the long submission process, my sister, who is an award-winning Florida artist unfamiliar with the tedious process of getting published, called me almost daily (I am not kidding), asking, “Is it published yet?” And wondered why we weren’t on Oprah. I tried to explain how the process worked, that even if the manuscript was accepted, it would be another year until publication. And because, after all this time, the Oprah show is off the air. But at some point, her impatience and excitement about the project was infectious and, after receiving our last rejection from an editor, we decided, why not invest in ourselves and take a chance to follow our dreams in a project we believed in?

We didn’t go into this process willy-nilly. As a member of the IndieGRW Yahoo Group I had the benefit of learning from my Georgia Romance Writers colleagues who had already made forays into the exciting new world of epublishing. I had the manuscript professionally edited, although, in my day job, I am a writer and an editor. We hired a company to format the novel. I highly recommend the company we used – 52 Novels http://www.52novels.com/, the same eBook design shop used by J.A. Konrath. Another author, James Swain, recommended 52 Novels to us. They were extremely reasonable and easy to work with and were not above hand-holding. They taught me a lot about the process.  They recommended a great cover designer, but my sister created a painting that we used as cover art and she drew some black and white line art and completed another painting that we used in the book. The Edger was a vehicle to highlight both of our creative talents—Visit Sharon’s art gallery at www.sgoldmanart.com and my author page on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Marilyn-Baron/286807714666748.

And because both central characters in the novel are artists, Sharon’s background helped make the book more authentic. Living in two different states did not present a problem since we did all the work via email or the telephone.

While we don’t have any illusions that The Edger will be jump to the #1 bestseller list (well, my sister does) we have enough confidence in our talent and marketing ability that we were going to give this a shot. After all, we’re not getting any younger. Our father, to whom we dedicated the book, passed away a little more than a year ago, and that lesson in the transience of life, taught us we didn’t want to have any regrets.

I’d learned some other lessons along the way last year, launching my Angel Trilogy—humorous, supernatural e-short stories with a small publisher specializing in  science fiction, supernatural, horror and thriller stories  http://www.twbpress.com/achoirofangels.html

And now, when my sister asks, “are we published yet?” I can legitimately answer, “Yes!” And it didn’t take a year. Where do we go from here? We’re collaborating on a play, a musical about Alzheimer’s, and I’m finishing a paranormal romantic suspense and polishing up a WWII mystery.

Was it a gamble going the nontraditional route? Sure. But I feel really good about taking control of my writing career.  It’s very liberating and enormously satisfying.

We hope you’ll give The Edger a try.

The Edger is available at Amazon Kindle http://www.amazon.com/The-Edger-ebook/dp/B006Y3P12Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326743234&sr=1-1

Barnes & Noble Nook Books http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-edger-marilyn-baron/1108321593?ean=2940013703957&itm=1&usri=the+edger+marilyn+baron

Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/123376.

ISBN 978-1-4659-7621-5

What are you doing to follow your dream? One commenter will win a FREE PDF copy of The Edger.

Museum of Literary History, Washington, D.C.

Circa 2023

Krista Caldwell took her young grandson by the hand.

“Come on, Brandon, we don’t want to miss the grand opening.”

“Why do we need to go to a dusty old literary museum, anyway, grandma? I want to go to the spy museum.”

“Because, Grandma wants you to see the bookstore.”

“What’s a bookstore?”

“It’s a place where people of all ages used to go to read books.”

“But if you want to read a book you can just download it.”

“I know but, in the old days, Grandma used to go to a bookstore to get the latest bestseller, relax with her friends over a cup of hot chocolate, or just browse. It was amazing. I don’t know what I liked better, the scent of chocolate or the new book smell.”

“Why don’t they have bookstores anymore?”

“First, all the small, independent bookstores went out of business and then gradually all the bigger bookstores closed. Everyone was buying books on their e-readers.”

“Well, you can still read. What’s the difference?”

“There’s nothing like the feel of a new book, the excitement, the wonder of opening those first pages and diving into a story.”

“I’d rather dive into the hotel pool.”

“I don’t know how I can explain the way things were back then unless you see it for yourself.”

“Don’t they have a bookstore where we live?”

“No, the last bookstore closed about three years ago. That’s why I’ve been so excited to see this new museum. They’ve collected books from all over the country. It will be just like going to a real bookstore. You’ve seen movies about bookstores but there’s nothing like the real thing. I want you to experience that joy.”

Hopefully, the above scenario is a fantasy and bookstores will not go the way of the dinosaur. Not enough young kids like to read and the older generation of book lovers is dying out. Don’t get me wrong. I love the convenience of downloading the latest release and my supernatural angel short stories (http://www.twbpress.com/thestandinbridegroom.html) are only available in eBook format. But there’s nothing like walking into a real brick-and-mortar bookstore. I hope bookstores will be around for my grandchildren (when I have them).

Unfortunately, this scenario isn’t as far-fetched as it seems. I just read that best-selling novelist Ann Patchett—whose newest novel “State of Wonder,” which was absolutely wonderful—has partnered with Random House sales rep Karen Hayes to create a new independent bookstore for her hometown of Nashville, Tenn., because Nashville’s bookstores have been shutting down. Patchett said, “I don’t want to live in a city without a bookstore.” Read more at http://www.csmonitor.com/Books/chapter-and-verse/2011/0627/Ann-Patchett-will-open-a-bookstore-of-her-own and http://www.npr.org/2011/11/16/142413792/ann-patchett-opens-parnassus-books-in-nashville.

The indie bookstore, called Parnassus Books, opened on November 16, 2011.

To celebrate the third anniversary of the Petit Fours and Hot Tamales, and to support my local bookstore, I’m giving away a $10 gift certificate to Barnes & Noble to one commenter.

Good Luck and Death Wishes

The last thing Désirée Devereaux needed was trouble on her first day in charge at the opening of the newest library branch in Harrow County, Georgia. But as she unlocked the door, turned on the lights and sniffed the stale, climate-controlled air in the empty facility, she sensed something was terribly wrong.

Instead of the wonderful scent of new book smells, she was overwhelmed by a tinny aroma. The mid-morning sun was rising in the sky and the air felt ripe with the foul smell. Maybe the exterminator had been there over the weekend.

Her boss, Ada Rawlings, was away for two weeks on a much-needed vacation and was probably reading a romance novel on an ocean liner somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean. Miss Rawlings had signed up for a singles cruise in search of love. In her absence, she had promoted Désirée to assistant head librarian.

Désirée began to walk the stacks. Her new high heels clicked on the hardwood floors and slipped quietly onto the carpet.

She passed the fiction and nonfiction aisles, 000-999. The putrid smell was growing more powerful. Désirée followed her nose past the Biographies aisle, which took up an entire row, and saw nothing out of order.

Then she headed for Dreams and Mystery—135—her favorite section in nonfiction, under Paranormal phenomena. As she rounded the corner into Mysteries, past the real-life mysteries—The Lindbergh baby kidnapping and such—and famous crimes—363 and 364—she nearly tripped and stumbled and reached for a metal divider to keep her balance. Miss Rawlings must have left a stool in the aisle Friday night before she locked up. Perhaps she was placing a book on the shelf, making sure everything was ship-shape for the opening before she left on her cruise.

When Désirée looked up, she found herself in MYSTERY CHR, Agatha Christie, one of her best-loved authors. When she looked down, she found something far more sinister—a dead body, lying in a pool of blood that had already soaked through the brand-new beige institutional carpet.

Désirée gasped. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from retching and suffered a sucker punch to her gut. The victim wasn’t a stranger. It was none other than Ada Rawlings, clutching Stephanie Bond’s latest romance paperback in her hand, which she was most likely ready to check out and enjoy on her cruise.

Not everyone got along with Ada Rawlings, but she had chosen Désirée from a long list of candidates for the job at her library branch. Miss Rawlings had taken a chance on her, and for that, Désirée would always be grateful.

Had Miss Rawlings accidentally tripped and hit her head on the edge of a sharp shelf? Or had she been brutally murdered? Had the killer surprised Miss Rawlings or had she known her assailant? Why had the killer chosen this particular library? Why the new branch? Was the murderer a patron? More to the point, was the murderer still in the stacks, lying in wait in the 921’s, for his next victim?

Désirée needed to call 911 but she remained frozen in front of the body. Gingerly, she stooped down and pried the blood-soaked paperback from Miss Rawlings’ rigid, naked hand. Miss Rawlings had had such high hopes for her time on the high seas. She’d confided to Désirée that she expected to come back with a ring on her finger and a fiancé.

She opened the paperback. Désirée was a book whisperer. The books talked to her. Each book had its own story, embellished by the previous patron who had checked it out. When she emptied the book drop and scanned the books to check them in, she felt the vibes they emitted: an angry argument between husband and wife over finances; a child’s hungry cry; the rattle of dishes in a busy kitchen; a mother’s calming voice soothing a cranky child as she read the opening of a fairy story.

Désirée squeezed her eyes shut to block out the body in front of her and concentrated on the page prints. This tale was a bloody nightmare.

The page prints were noisy. There had been a desperate struggle. The spirit of an overpowering evil presence filled the empty rows of books, uncorked like a genie from a bottle. There were words, nasty words slammed like a slingshot to hit their target. And fear. She could almost smell it in the book, in the air. First shock and betrayal, then screams, followed by pleas for mercy. A flash of steel. Flesh violated. Gurgling, gasping sounds. Final breaths. And then cold silence.

Désirée skimmed through the pages of the paperback until she found the words scrawled on the very last page.

“Good Luck and Death Wishes.”

Désirée recoiled from the killer’s twisted play on what should have been happy words, glad tidings before a bon voyage – “Good Luck and Best Wishes.”

She grasped the book tightly in her hands to keep from fainting. Inching backwards, away from the body, she steadied herself on the shelf behind her. This incident would not reflect well on her, even though it wasn’t Désirée’s fault that a dead body had been found on her watch.

Miss Rawlings would be very upset. Who knew what she’d do? Désirée blinked away the tears, realizing that Miss Rawlings wouldn’t do anything, ever again.

Désirée walked back to the office and with shaky fingers managed to dialed 911. The closest police station was thirty minutes away. Harrow County’s newest library branch was in the boondocks, on the fringes of the suburbs, in what could barely be considered civilization.

The newest county library stood between the Pentecostal Church and the cemetery, which was convenient, since a person could get prayed over and put into the ground, all in a two-block radius. Then down the street, they could reminisce about the dearly departed at the Blue Crab Café. There were more people buried in the county cemetery than currently lived in the town.

Désirée sank into a chair at the wooden table in the center of the library, laid down her head and waited for help to come.

Help came in the form of one Detective Danny Bonner, who, under different circumstances, Désirée would have found attractive. He was a big man, tall, powerfully muscled, unshaven, his fierce demeanor softened only by the twinkle in his large brown eyes. When he flashed his shield, she noticed he was packing a firearm, which she didn’t find the least bit reassuring. Detective Bonner looked like the kind of man with an itchy trigger finger. He sure could catch a football. She had been to every one of his high school games. She doubted he even knew she existed. If he did, his poker face wasn’t displaying even a flicker of recognition.

Désirée started to lead Detective Bonner over to the stacks where the body was located, when she tripped and found herself anchored in his strong arms. Apparently, he was also used to catching swooning women.

“Is there something wrong with your feet?” he asked.

“I’m a bit wobbly. I’m not used to these high heels.”

“Are those Jimmy Choos?” he guessed.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I have three sisters who love to shop.”

“Hey, look, do you have some ID?” he asked, as he returned her to a standing position.

Désirée walked carefully around the circulation area back to the office to get her purse, which she’d stuffed into the drawer of her desk. Detective Bonner followed. She removed her wallet and handed him her driver’s license.

“Désirée Devereaux,” he read. “What kind of a name is that?”
“French. My mother loves anything French, including my father; at least she did before their divorce.”

“Désirée Devereaux is a lousy name for a librarian,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“First of all, it doesn’t fit your profession. Aren’t librarians supposed to be named Marian?”

“That’s not original, so just drop it or else-”

“Or else, what? We’ll have Trouble right here in River City. Trouble with a capital T? What do people call you – Desi? ‘Hey Desi, where’s Lucy?’”

Désirée rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, but you just don’t strike me as a Désirée,” he explained. “When I think of Désirée, I think of flouncy lingerie, you know, intimate apparel. Unless you’re wearing some of that under that dress.”

Désirée blushed. Her usual undergarments came packaged from Jockey and even that was a stretch.

Detective Bonner gave her a long, languorous appraisal.

“What you’re trying to say is Désirée is sexy, fun and playful and I’m none of those things.”

“You said it, not me. It just sounds a little pretentious, like it belongs to a glamorous movie star or a sultry stripper, anything but a librarian. Can you just picture yourself being wheeled around in a nursing home in fifty years, along with the other Tiffany’s, Brittany’s and Aynsleys?”

She wasn’t going to give Detective Danny Bonner the satisfaction of knowing she found that image hilarious.

The name Désirée was an asset in the Internet dating world. However, once the prospective match actually met her, the dates never lasted very long. The men simply couldn’t reconcile the promising profile and naughty name with the face that had too many freckles, the mousey brown hair and the body that wasn’t slim enough for their tastes.

“You’ve changed,” he accused, staring at her license photo. “What did you do to your hair?”

“I got it cut, but I don’t see what that has to do with the investigation.”

What she didn’t tell him was that she’d spent half a day and half her weekly paycheck yesterday at a high-priced salon, getting her hair colored and submitting to a Keratin treatment (how very French). She’d walked out with straight, sleek, dark hair, a beauty makeover to cover the freckles and highlight what her friends called her most compelling feature, her sea-green eyes, a French manicure (of course) and a pedicure.

And she certainly didn’t tell him she had lingered at the mall and brought home shopping bags full of form-fitting clothes and lacy unmentionables, followed by a magnificent pair of fashionable, if uncomfortable, shoes.

She definitely didn’t divulge the reason why she had gone to such expense—so she could be transformed into an alluring new woman with a new attitude that the FedEx Guy, a particularly sexy patron and her secret crush, could not ignore. She was a sucker for a man in uniform.

“It’s out of place,” said Detective Bonner. “When something is out of place, you generally have to pay particular attention to it. What about your freckles? Where did they go?”

“The case of the missing freckles,” Désirée stated with a straight face.

Detective Bonner was not smiling.

“They’re still there. I covered them with makeup.”

“Speaking of touch-ups, did you touch anything when you came in this morning?”

“Well, I did pick up the book Miss Rawlings, uh, the victim, was holding in her hand. It was the new Stephanie Bond.”

“I don’t care if it was a James Bond. I wish you hadn’t done that, Ms. Devereaux. These books are evidence. We have to cart them down to the station.”

“There’s a clue here. The killer wrote something at the back of the book. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Are you a detective as well as a librarian, Ms. Devereaux?”

“No. I just thought you might be interested.”

“When I need your help with this investigation, I’ll let you know.”

Désirée blanched. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Then what possessed you to pick up that book?” Detective Bonner chided.

“It’s what I do. Books don’t belong on the floor. And they don’t belong at a police station. They’re here for the enjoyment of the patrons.”

“They’re now the property of the Harrow County Sheriff’s Department, until further notice.”

“You can’t remove these books. Patrons are waiting for them.”

“Well they’ll just have to wait a little longer. This library is a crime scene. Nobody gets in or out of this building without my approval. My men are outside right now, covering the entrance with crime scene tape.”

“You can’t do that,” Désirée scowled. “This is opening day. We’re expecting a lot of visitors.”

“They’ll have to come back. As soon as we process the books for prints, we’ll return them to you.”

“Be careful of the spines,” Désirée cautioned weakly, swaying as she remembered the blood on Poor Ada Rawling’s body. “They’re very fragile.” Tears streamed down Désirée’s face, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She wasn’t going to break down in front of this insensitive brute.

“Did you know the victim?” Detective Bonner asked.

“Yes, she was my boss, Ada Rawlings. She was supposed to be on a cruise. It was her dream trip. She was hoping to meet someone.”

“Someone she knew?”

“She’d been talking to a man on the Internet and they were finally going to meet on the cruise. It was all very romantic–two strangers meeting out on the open seas, under the stars.”

“It sounds like an ill-advised scheme to me. I’ll need his name, if you know it, and anything else you can tell me about him, and the home address of the victim. I’ll need to see her home computer and the computer in her office. Was the victim married?”

“No, that’s why she was going on a singles cruise.”

“So, she was a spinster.”

“That’s a cruel way of putting it.”

Detective Bonner ignored Désirée and started scribbling notes on his pad.

“Have there been any other incidents at this library?”

“We haven’t even opened.”

“Did the victim have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. She was a librarian.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Detective Bonner. “What about the property?”

“It was formerly pasture land, owned by a Mr. Howard Bennett. He and his wife retired to Florida and sold the land to the county.”

“You notice any weirdos hanging around the library? Regulars? Unusual people?”

“I told you we haven’t even opened.”

“At the old branch, then.”

“Well, there are the Hookers.”

His brow rose. “Prostitutes hang out at the public library?”

“Not those kind of hookers. They’re a group of women who come to the library to crochet once a week in the Quiet Room.”

“What about perverts, have you noticed any of them?”

“Adults are allowed unfiltered sessions on the Internet. They can access MySpace and Facebook and Twitter. If we notice them accessing any unsavory sites, we ask them to leave.”

“Who else?”

“Well, there’s Skirt Boy, but he’s harmless.”

“Skirt boy?”

“That’s just a name we call him. He wears a skirt and a Tee-shirt and hangs out with an au pair who takes care of two kids. We think he sleeps in the empty lot next door in the shed at the old branch.”

“I’ll need you to describe where that shed is later on.”

“Some patrons come into the library to catch up on their sleep, or in between appointments, on their lunch hours, like-” Desiree hesitated.

“What were you going to say?”

“Like the FedEx guy.”
“What about the FedEx guy?”

“There’s this FedEx guy who stops by on his lunch hour to surf the net and read books.”

“FedEx, hmmm. No wonder we never get our packages on time. I need to call this in. Does FedEx Guy have a name?”

Désirée nodded and pulled up the name on her computer. But of course she already knew his name. She had checked out books for him many times and she had checked him out at the same time. She fantasized about the look on FedEx Guy’s face when he got an eyeful of the new, improved Désirée Devereaux.

FedEx Guy spent his lunch hour almost every day at the old branch, reading thrillers and mysteries. FedEx guy was a mystery himself.

They hadn’t really talked yet. Désirée often recommended books to FedEx Guy. Read-Alikes. If you like John Grisham, try David Baldacci or Greg Iles. But today she had planned to initiate a real conversation, albeit in hushed tones. This was a library, after all. If he followed her to the new branch.

The detective pulled out his cell phone.

“You can’t use a cell phone in here. That’s a rule.”

“You are a piece of work, lady. This is a murder scene. All your rules are officially out the window.”

Désirée bristled. The guy would be cute if he weren’t so gruff.

“Anything else? Any disturbances?”

“Well, once the police came when they got a phone call from a pay phone in the library that this girl’s boyfriend was going to commit suicide, so she called the sheriff.”

“Don’t hold back.”

“And once a life flight helicopter landed at the library to pick up an injured man in the parking lot.”

“You seem to have an affinity for mayhem, Miss Devereaux,” said Detective Bonner.

Strange and sometimes wondrous things did seem to happen on Desiree’s watch. There was the time when Miss Rawlings had an early morning doctor’s appointment, and Désirée had offered to open the library. While pulling the holds patrons had requested, she’d discovered a stray kitten, hungry and mewling. Désirée had taken a dish from the break room, filled it with water and watched while the kitten lapped up the whole bowl. And she’d bought some cat food during her lunch break for the tiniest librarian, whom she’d named Deci, after the Dewey decimal system. Deci was now a permanent fixture in the library.

Désirée had posted a note in the branch and was ecstatic when no one claimed the kitten after the proper waiting time had passed. The staff had officially adopted Deci, who was a favorite with young patrons, as their new mascot. Deci was at home today, but Désirée planned to bring her into the new branch later in the week.

“Do you have anything else to report? If not, then kindly get out of my way and let me do my job.”

“I can help you,” Désirée offered. “I read page prints.”

“Page prints? Is that some kind of Braille?”

“Patrons leave traces of themselves in the books they’ve checked out,” Désirée explained. “And the killer might have left a clue if he returned a book in our chute last night. People typically leave photos, letters, cards, bookmarks, receipts, airline tickets and other personal things behind. Once I even found a piece of ham.”

“Did you eat it?’

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course not.” Detective Bonner smirked. “It’s probably against the rules.”

Desiree frowned.

“I was just joking, Miss Devereaux. And the sheriff’s office is perfectly capable of finding its own clues. We don’t need any part-time palm readers.”

“I said I’m a page print reader, not a palm reader, although you shouldn’t discount that profession. I’m just saying that you might be able to tell if the killer checked out a book about crime, or serial murders, or mysteries. Especially if you don’t have any leads. And I think it’s telling that the body was placed in the Mystery section. We certainly have a mystery on our hands. Now if it had been left in the History section, that would be a different story. History flows like water. You can try to dam it up, but eventually-”

“Are you always this talkative? Do you feel compelled to spew forth everything that’s on your mind?”
“You asked me a question.”

“Thank you, Miss Devereaux. But there’s no need to elaborate. Just answer the question.”

“Just the facts, ma’am, right?”

“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“Bonehead,” she muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Bonner, I said Bonner, Detective Bonner.”

“What about the other staff? Do any of them have a beef against the victim?”

“They hardly know her. Some of them have never met her. They were transferred from other branches in the county to pick up the slack. The county had enough money to build the new branch and stock it with books, but there was no money left over for staff. So we’re all volunteering to work overtime to staff the newest branch.”

“That must have caused some resentment.”

“Not enough to kill over.”

“I’ll need the names of the other employees.”

“Some of them are part-time.”

“All the names,” he ordered. “Then you’re free to go, but don’t leave Harrow County.”

Maybe she looked like the traveling type but the truth was she’d never been out of the country. She didn’t even own a passport. She traveled the world in books.

“I have a lot of work to do before we open,” Désirée protested.

“Maybe you weren’t listening. This branch is not open for business. Not until we solve this murder. And I’m going to need your prints. And I don’t mean your page prints. I’m not ruling you out as a suspect.”

###

Who killed Ada Rawlings and wrote those awful words in the book? And what’s up with this Detective Bonner? Tune in tomorrow and find out more.

In the meantime, leave a comment to win a $5 Amazon coupon and be entered in our final drawing.

I thought I was pretty hip, but apparently I know nothing about the younger generation. How was I supposed to know that there’s now a Generation Y, referred to as The Millennials, that follows Generation X.  The Millennials, so named because they came of age in the new millennium, are overtaking the Baby Boomers in size and influence. In many cases, they are the children of Baby Boomers. In fact, I discovered I have two daughters in the Millennial Generation. Who knew? Have I been living under a rock? If you’re already familiar with The Millennials, then you’re more in touch than I am. As a writer, I think it’s important to know who I am trying to communicate with.  They are my new target audience.

Who are The Millennials?  

• 18- to 30-year-olds
• They’re either in college or just starting their first professional job
• They have more disposable incomes because they don’t have a mortgage and they don’t have kids.
• They don’t read the newspaper and they don’t watch commercials because they TiVo® their favorite TV shows. They get their information from CNN or their home page
• If they read at all, they read e-Books
• They’re very involved on social media; they cut their teeth on technology and grew up on Facebook, texting  and Twitter; and they use Groupon and LivingSocial
• They don’t have landlines. Instead they use their cell phones
• They don’t wear the watches their parents gave them. If they want to know the time, they flip open their cell phones.
• They don’t look in the newspaper for movie listings; they do that online
• They shop at Gilt for designer sample sales and designer vacations

The Millennial Generation looks at things differently, so you have to capture their attention differently. This generation is an untapped resource and everyone is trying to get their business.

Do you have any ideas how writers can reach The Millenials? If so, I’d appreciate some advice.

One commenter will win a PDF eBook version of my latest humorous, supernatural release, The Stand-In Bridegroom.  

Duty and Desire

A Novel of Modern India

By Anju Gattani

http://www.anjugattani.com/

Greenbrier Book Company, LLC

ISBN: 978-1-937573-01-0

Duty and Desire is the debut novel in Anju Gattani’s Winds of Fire series. To paraphrase the back cover blurb: Sheetal Prasad has it all: youth, beauty, wealth and education. But when this modern Indian woman surrenders love for honor and marries into India’s most glamorous and powerful “royal family,” the Dhanrajs, she is exposed to a web of lies, infidelity, greed and secrets. As Sheetal experiences a loss of freedom, she struggles to control her fate.

The Prologue was intriguing. “It was the wedding of the decade. Everyone present had been holding his or her breath in anticipation of the five hundred-million-rupee bash. Everyone but the bride.”

First, let me say that I am a friend of Anju’s, therefore I would be predisposed to like any book she wrote. But I wasn’t prepared to love it like I did. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she thanked me in the Acknowledgments section. That was a thrill. But, back to the book. The pacing and the plot, the characterization and the conflict, the storytelling and the setting and sexual tension she created, were impeccable. I didn’t want to put it down. It’s the story of a woman’s journey from maidenhood to marriage and a story of how she adapts to her new family, bound as she is by the rigid traditions and confines of her culture.

Her hero, Sanjeet, is a very complex, charming and compelling man with many layers. On the surface, he is intolerable and the way he ignores and abuses his new wife, despicable. Sheetal is sympathetic as she fights her desire for her husband, while at the same time harboring growing feelings of powerlessness,  frustration and rage towards him. The secondary characters, Sheetal’s mother-in-law and sisters-in-law are evil, fascinating and entertaining in their own ways, each trapped by their own past.

I love books about foreign cultures and Duty and Desire is no exception. Anju knows what she writes about. She was born in India and grew up in Hong Kong. Reading her book introduced me to the exotic and glittering world of modern India. The glossary alone is worth the price of the book. I really learned a lot. And the cover is exquisite. I highly recommend this book.

Last month, my husband and I went on a tour of Israel. Neither of us had been there before and the journey cleared up a lot of misconceptions and myths about the country.

A Young Army

1. Myth # 1: Israel isn’t safe. Israel may be the safest place on the planet although, as my husband says, Israel lives in a tough neighborhood. In fact, you don’t even have to take off your shoes at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. How could I feel unsafe with young Israeli soldiers everywhere, their weapons slung over their shoulders, as common a sight as the French carrying loaves of bread in the Metro. And speaking of young, a large segment of the country’s population is under 21.  Israeli’s aren’t worried about bombs, they’re too busy protesting the high cost of living. We did go through several checkpoints as we left Jerusalem and passed camels and Bedouin villages as we traveled from Sector C (the Israeli sector) to Sector B (the shared sector).
2. According to the guidebooks, Jerusalem is a city of contrasts, a multicultural tapestry of diverse cultures, customs and religions, where old and new co-exist, where Palestinian settlements stand beside Jewish living quarters. I noticed a lot of similarities between the two cultures. Jerusalem is a unique jewel of a city, a city of historic sites and holy places sacred to Jews, Christians and Moslems. Each left its mark on Israel’s capital city. It’s unexpected to see buildings made of Jerusalem stone next to modern malls and bustling markets and bazaars. Traffic snarls the city like in Atlanta. Most amazing was hearing Hebrew spoken as a living language. It sounds a lot like French when they speak it. I haven’t studied Hebrew since I was a child, but Israeli’s have been speaking it as their official language since 1912.
3. When the tour guide says it’s just a 5-minute walk to the next ancient ruin or recently excavated fortress, don’t believe her. What she really means is, it’s a five-mile hike. Luckily, I didn’t have to walk up Massada, site of the Zealots’ last stand against the Romans in 73 C.E. I took a cable car ride to the top where we explored the ancient Herodian Palace. I actually lost weight when I got home from all that walking.
4. Similarly, when the guide says there are only a few stairs to navigate, what she really means is, think the 138 Spanish Steps in Rome. I felt like Rocky as he contemplated climbing the 72 steps before the entrance of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Now I know why Israeli’s don’t need Stairmasters. There’s not a place in that country you can get to without walking several flights of stairs.
5. Don’t try to stand up in The Dead Sea. We went to The Dead Sea to float in the buoyant waters and I kept getting knocked flat on my back.
6. Women aren’t always equal in Israel. Even though women serve a mandatory two years in the military, a woman can’t worship with a man at the Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem. Men and women are separated. If a mother wants to see her son become a Bar Mitzvah at the Wall, she has to stand on a plastic chair and look over the partition to witness the event. Israel is a fledgling country – just 63 years old – a few years older than me, so they’re still working out the kinks in this otherwise enlightened land.
7. Among the most beautiful sights we saw: Swimming in our hotel pool and gazing at the Sea of Galilee at sunset. The view of the Chagall stained glass windows at the Hadassah University Medical Center; and the breathtaking Baha’i Gardens overlooking the Port of Haifa.
   

   Sea of Galilee

    

   

   The Baha'i Gardens in Haifa

8. Most interesting experiences: The exciting and bumpy Jeep Ride through the Golan Heights; bathing on a beach with sand the color of Halvah (a dessert of crushed sesame seeds and  honey) in the Mediterranean Sea in Tel Aviv; and visiting a chocolatier on a kibbutz.
9. Most surprising: How green Israel is.Fruit trees abound in Israel from mangoes, oranges, bananas and dates to almonds. We enjoyed tasting all kinds of food from delicious Israeli Buffet Breakfasts with fresh fruits and breads to Yemenite food (especially a tasty green spice called za’atar on pita bread), lunch at a Druze village and a traditional Moroccan restaurant. We even ate at a kosher McDonald’s. But to tell you the truth, my favorite meal was an Italian dinner in Tel Aviv. Also, I was surprised to learn that medical care is low-cost or free in Israel. Infertility treatment is free until a woman gives birth to two babies, no matter how many procedures she undergoes.

Israel oasis

1. Israel’s gifts to the world. According to our guide, Israeli gifts to the world include such high-tech inventions and discoveries as: Expertise in skin grafts in treating burns; development of the “Pillcam,” a capsule the size and shape of a pill containing a tiny camera that records images of the digestive tract; developments in Game theory; the Epilator and cherry tomatoes.