Lots of new things going on here in the Northern Michigan woods. I turned in Dead Dogs and Englishmen–still have some revisions to do, but am also working on a new mystery, new series–which takes place on the mean streets of Detroit rather than the mean woods and rivers of Northern Michigan. Lots of research to do–mainly on the homeless but I’m getting wonderful help from a lot of experts so feel pretty confident I can show the homeless experience without being dishonest–either way: too bad, too smaltzy. So–a lot of work ahead. But beginning a new book is always fun–all that surprise and misery–at the same time.
So many people are criticizing my relationship with Jackson. I guess I look a little weak–’cause I let him get away with murder. Ok–so this might sound like BS–but hasn’t anyone ever been married to a man they just can’t shake? I mean, in a way I guess I’ll always have feelings for Jackson. Maybe the way a mother has for her weakest child. The guy’s a jerk. He’s a lech. But he can be fun. Despire all the coeds, we had some wonderful times and I guess–after he’s out of my bed and real life–he can still be a great companion (not a friend–that’s what I’ve still got to separate out). I guess what I’ve always tried to do is treat all people with respect–no matter what creeps they are. It’s taking me a while to reach a kind of equilibrium with him–where I can have feelings way in the back and appreciation of who he could have been in the forefront. Maybe this all sounds like a dumb apology but it’s who I am. Nobody can expect me to ever be perfect. I won’t be. I keep making mistakes. I keep doing dumb things. I keep being afraid I won’t make it up in the woods–alone. But the one thing I can promise is that I will continue to try. I’ve taken what people have said to heart–I will still be me (warts and bumps and all) but I know I can change. We all can. That’s what’s going to lead me on. In this next book Elizabeth’s written I think I’m getting a handle on my relationship with him. I hope so. I hope so . . .
Almost gone and I didn’t even notice it was here! But, you see–I’m lying. I noticed that it wasn’t horribly hot. I noticed it rained a lot so I didn’t have to water my garden. I noticed that I was comfortable and never got a rash–anywhere! Whoopi! I loved it. Our Murder Takes A Road Trip–has been great–so much fun to not have the whole program focused on me. Other writers should come up with a concept like this one that Mardi Link thought up. Get three writers with books out, who write on the same subject, and put together a program for libraries. You sell books. You get your name known. And–most important–you meet wonderful people who are interested in books. People at the venues where we’ve appeared have been so hospitable.
Not that I mind going out alone. Tonight I’ll be at Geo’s Restaurant–sponsored by the Kalkaska County Library and the women of their book club. I did this last year–my local library honoring me–and loved every minute of it. Can’t wait until tonight.
Dolly said she was going to be there too but I’ve banned her. Whenever anybody asks her a question she takes over and goes on and on and on . . . So for the sake of the people who come tonight–she’s not going to get anywhere near Geo’s!
I’ve got to start this fourth book. The third: Dead Sleeping Shaman, is finished and even the cover done. Which I love! It has a great tree on it, with crows flying in and out.
This new book is going to be a real trick! I’ve got the idea–got it from our summer’s pests: the tentworm. Now I have to turn a tentworm into a human being–and then I’m off.
I just turned in the third in the Emily Kincaid series–Dead Sleeping Shaman. As usual, the natural world handed me the story, send me out to an old ghost town and showed me where a body could be laid out under a tree, and then the odd place in the grass beside the tree. OK, I’m not stupid. I get it. Something out there in the woods is giving me stories. Who knows why? Would I look a gift horse in the mouth? And then comes this next book DEAD DOGS AND ENGLISHMEN. Guess what? We had tentworms this spring. Now the woods look like April in July–no leaves. Awful things, tentwords. Greedy. They are the Bernie Madoffs of the natural world. Like a lot of other people–hmmm–so I was just handed the fourth book. First line? It was the summer of the worm . . .
There is still a foot of snow on Emily’s deck, but it’s giving in a little at a time. I’d like to go kick it away for her but I’m superstitious, as soon as I do that it will snow again. Still, there’s hope. And the third book of the Emily Kincaid series is almost done and ready to turn in to Midnight Ink. Poor Deputy Dolly, she got caught up in a cult this time and had to shave her head. If you imagined her as she was before, now think of her with no hair. She looks . . . um . . . different. But it all worked out. Oh, and a relative of Dolly (who is always searching for family) shows up. I was happy for her. She didn’t have to be so snotty about it. Buy you know Dolly. Now on to the next in the series: Dead Dogs and Englishmen. Can’t wait–not that I’m going to kill off a lot of dogs, but I do take a crack at an Englishmen. Happy summer everyone. Hope to see you all at book signings this summer.