FROM
THE DESK OF
DONA
PENZA TATTLE, ESQ.
AND
ASSOCIATE
WRYE BALDERDASH
Greetings,
Tattle stares at a picture of a snowman and
sighs. "I miss snow."
Wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt,
Wrye gulps half his ice tea. "It's snowing somewhere, I'm sure, just
not in our neck of the world. By the way, how do snowmen travel around?"
"Huh?"
"By iceicle!" After
a quick two-step, Wrye adds, "Ta da! What sort of ball doesn't
bounce? A snowball! What do you get if you cross a snowman and a
shark? Frost bite!"
"Errr, my remark wasn't a cue for you to
become the snow-comedian, y'know."
"Ahhh, I get it, it was my cue to take you
out for snow cones."
"By George, I think, he got it! And
since it is time for our Love of Literature Leap Interviews with Julie
Eberhart Painter. Let's bring snow cones!"
"Great idea! But, umm, who's George?"
Rolling her eyes, she snaps her finger and
thetwo show up in an award winning and dedicated author's kitchen just as
she is pouring her first cuppa of the morning.
T: (Paraphrases) There is nothing wrong with your vision. Do not attempt to adjust your sanity. We are now in control. We control the interview and snow-cone flavor. We can deluge you with a thousand questions, or expand one single question to feel like a thousand. We can shape your vision...
W: (Interrupts) In other words, we are here to interview you, Julie Eberhart Painter. We had (grins and offers up a snow cone) a hankering for snow cones and mystery! Interested?
J: What proof is that cone?
T: (Settles down at the table across from Wrye and Julie) Now, to get down to a bit of gossip... errr... queries about you and your work. Tell us, Julie, which of your female heroines do you feel is most like you?
J: Ellen in Mortal Coil.http://amzn.to/1dahbIw
T: (Paraphrases) There is nothing wrong with your vision. Do not attempt to adjust your sanity. We are now in control. We control the interview and snow-cone flavor. We can deluge you with a thousand questions, or expand one single question to feel like a thousand. We can shape your vision...
W: (Interrupts) In other words, we are here to interview you, Julie Eberhart Painter. We had (grins and offers up a snow cone) a hankering for snow cones and mystery! Interested?
J: What proof is that cone?
T: (Settles down at the table across from Wrye and Julie) Now, to get down to a bit of gossip... errr... queries about you and your work. Tell us, Julie, which of your female heroines do you feel is most like you?
J: Ellen in Mortal Coil.http://amzn.to/1dahbIw
She’s the administrator in a nursing home in
Marietta, Georgia, northwest of Atlanta. She’s honest and sensitive, recently
widowed – courtesy of the Pony-tailed Perp. Her ten-year-old daughter, Patti,
is the spitting image of my real daughter Lynne at the same age. Wonder how
that happened.
W: Now, for those of us who need to know. (Becomes very serious) Do you consider yourself a good liar?
J: I’d be lying if I said yes. My face is a dead, not-quite-dead, giveaway. I get hot flashes just thinking about it.
T: Have you ever been so into plotting and writing that something important was left undone? For example, I once kept putting off laundry and ran out of clean underwear. So, have you ever experienced anything similar? If so, tell... tell... tell....
J: Often, especially before my husband retired. Now he keeps me on my toes. FYI: I keep a stash of extra drawers in my drawers.
W: Very good planning! (Looks at Tattle pointedly) Any hoo, you need to think like a killer to write about killers, so 'fess up. Do you enjoy creating those nasty little souls? And even more importantly... (narrows his eyes and peers at Julie intently) Do you kill spiders or carry them outside?
J: The bug man kills the spiders; he’s a hired killer. I carry the geckos outside, all the while telling them I’m returning them to their families. They are usually dehydrating, so I put a drop of water in two clear plastic cups, scoop them up and redeposit them near their homes. They are, in real life, just as cute as the one on TV.
W: Now, for those of us who need to know. (Becomes very serious) Do you consider yourself a good liar?
J: I’d be lying if I said yes. My face is a dead, not-quite-dead, giveaway. I get hot flashes just thinking about it.
T: Have you ever been so into plotting and writing that something important was left undone? For example, I once kept putting off laundry and ran out of clean underwear. So, have you ever experienced anything similar? If so, tell... tell... tell....
J: Often, especially before my husband retired. Now he keeps me on my toes. FYI: I keep a stash of extra drawers in my drawers.
W: Very good planning! (Looks at Tattle pointedly) Any hoo, you need to think like a killer to write about killers, so 'fess up. Do you enjoy creating those nasty little souls? And even more importantly... (narrows his eyes and peers at Julie intently) Do you kill spiders or carry them outside?
J: The bug man kills the spiders; he’s a hired killer. I carry the geckos outside, all the while telling them I’m returning them to their families. They are usually dehydrating, so I put a drop of water in two clear plastic cups, scoop them up and redeposit them near their homes. They are, in real life, just as cute as the one on TV.
On
the evil side, I have a devious mind, short
earlobes,
and a wild imagination.
Killer
plots are another matter. In my unpublished memoir, Pathways Home, an
adoptee's story, I show myself at age 15 bereft of a boyfriend. I describe
it thusly:
Toward the end of our
sophomore year, Bobby (a tuba player) added a trombone to his collection. Her
name was Henrietta.
(Then a friend told me a secret about her, and
I grew up fast.)
…I was speechless.
“…Henrietta’s mother loved the man so much she couldn’t give up her
daughter.”
Johnny pointed to where
they lived across the street from his house. “It’s that third floor apartment,”
Johnny said.
I
looked up at the four story brick building with its twisted fire escape
precariously clinging to the side.
“Her mother’s got that fire escape stacked with magazines and old newspapers.
It drives Henrietta crazy. She’s always moving them away from the door—scared
to death of getting trapped in there.”
“A metaphor for her life, trapped in this town,” I said, thinking, for one
fleeting moment, I could destroy Henrietta.
But I didn’t.
Losing Bobby to such a pathetic girl gave me new insight. Passion was replaced
by compassion and empathy. I saw the irony: “There but for the grace of God go
I,” the adopted one. I recognized that if my birth mother, equally downtrodden
and disapproved of, had chosen to keep me, I could have been Henrietta.
I never told anyone, not my tight-lipped adoptive mother, Henrietta or Bobby.
Not until now, more than sixty years later, when no one cares anymore, am I
revealing her secret. I learned people are not simple, sketched onto velvet.
They are complex and three-dimensional.
Keeping Henrietta’s secret empowered me and helped me forgive her. Yet in the
fifties, we didn’t speak of or define such things in psychological terms. Yet,
that’s how kindness works for good. I could not be Henrietta’s friend. I’d
never trust her—ever. But the sick feeling, the intense desire to murder
her in ways not yet been invented went away. I was healing. …
T: Oooh, thank you for sharing that intimate part of your life with our readers. (Pauses to gather her thoughts) Which of your characters would make their bed and which one would leave it messy?
J: Ellen’s daughter, Patti would leave it messy, probably strewn with sports equipment, but her mother Ellen would tidy up.
W:
Unlike my cohort in tattling, I have a serious inquiry, is your muse a night
owl that keeps you up till all hours or a morning bird that greets the
dawn?
J: A bird that greets the dawn, after the night owl of my subconscious wakes me up early. “Stupid bird!”
T: Now, think food, savory or sweet, meaty or veggie, creamy or gritty? If you were a food, what food would you want be?”
J: Savory, meaty, and textured: Beef Burgundy over wide noodles, al dente.
W: Thank you so much for allowing us to invade your kitchen.” He offers a gentlemanly bow.
T: We fully appreciate your time and totally enjoy your books. We impatiently await your next book, especially since hearing Champagne Books has invited you into the Cozy mystery/quirky character club with a deadline for a full manuscript by September. The novel takes place in my home town, a beach town in Florida known for odd crimes, and nutty seniors. Tim Dorsey and Carl Hiaasen have already harvested some of the funniest mysteries from Volusia County where the novels about New Smyrna Beach are set… Looking forward to reading it!
J: A bird that greets the dawn, after the night owl of my subconscious wakes me up early. “Stupid bird!”
T: Now, think food, savory or sweet, meaty or veggie, creamy or gritty? If you were a food, what food would you want be?”
J: Savory, meaty, and textured: Beef Burgundy over wide noodles, al dente.
W: Thank you so much for allowing us to invade your kitchen.” He offers a gentlemanly bow.
T: We fully appreciate your time and totally enjoy your books. We impatiently await your next book, especially since hearing Champagne Books has invited you into the Cozy mystery/quirky character club with a deadline for a full manuscript by September. The novel takes place in my home town, a beach town in Florida known for odd crimes, and nutty seniors. Tim Dorsey and Carl Hiaasen have already harvested some of the funniest mysteries from Volusia County where the novels about New Smyrna Beach are set… Looking forward to reading it!
We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at writingteamcw@yahoo.com (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a free ebook (choose erotic or romantic thriller) and add you to any future mailings.
Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com
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