The Next Big Thing

I'd like to thank Carolyn Mulford, a fellow Five Star author,  for inviting me to join everyone in this Blog Hop. Her mystery, Show Me the Murder, is coming out next week,. So exciting! There's nothing like holding your baby in your own hands when the stork (read mailman) drops that cardboard box on your doorstep.

I have to confess that I was invited to do this a few weeks ago, but I flat out forgot to invite and post. Last week I accepted Carolyn's invitation, determined to do right this time. But the problem is, everyone's already done it. Everyone but me. Every author I invited told me he/she had already done it. Okay, I didn't actually invite Stephen King, or J. K. Rowling, assuming they might not know who I was. So I have no one to refer you to for next week's blog hop. Alas, the fate of all Ponzis is to collapse under their own weight. Of course this isn't a real Ponzi because no money is involved and the only result is that readers find out about new books.

1. What is the working title of your book?

The Man on the Istanbul Train.

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?

On a trip to Turkey a couple of years ago, I was captivated by the atmosphere of Istanbul. My original idea involved an ancient manuscript and harrowing chase through the Topkapi Palace. This story has nothing to do with either of these. I think I mentioned the Topkapi Palace a couple of times.

3. What genre does your book come under?

Traditional mystery or thriller. Take your pick.

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Amanda Seyfried, from Mama Mia! and Les Miserables, would be wonderful as Lacy Glass, botanist and pigment expert. Beautiful, brilliant, and horribly accident-prone.

How about Hugh Jackman as Paul Hannah, archaeologist and a hard man to catch?

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

On a train from Istanbul to an archaeological dig in central Turkey, Dr. Lacy Glass sees a man she's recently befriended fly off the train, dead, and at the same time a man with the same name dies in a tent at the dig.

6. Is your book self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?

Self-published

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

About six months.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Can't think of a single one.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My treks around Istanbul and through Turkey's great interior--places like Konya, Antalya, and Cappadoccia and especially the vast spaces in between.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

This is not a love story, but people have told me Lacy and Paul need to wise up and deal with their feelings. The story also involves archaeology, Turkish carpets, the black market in antiquities, and a wannabe spy named Milo who is one of my favorite characters, ever.

Please visit any of the online ebook sites for The Man on the Istanbul Train, and check out Carolyn Mulford's website: http://carolynmulford.com.

Richard the Third's DNA

Ever since I read Jacqueline Tey's short mystery The Daughter of Time, I've been a little bit obsessed with the last Plantagenet king of England, Richard III. May I recommend you read it too? A gripping story with absolutely no action--the whole thing takes place in the hospital room of a detective with a broken leg. Detective Grant, having nothing better to do, attempts to find the real Richard III through books his friends bring him.
Richard III, the evil hunchback, usurper of the throne, murderer of the two Little Princes in the Tower, shares a dark corner of history with Nero, Ivan the Terrible, and the Sheriff of Nottingham. That's history as written by the victors, in this case the Tudors and their scribes. Richard's death in the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485, brought the saintly Tudors, such as Henry VIII, to the throne.

They've found Richard's bones! Not in Westminster Abbey with the other kings but under a parking lot in Leicester. Seems he died from a severe blow to the head and wasn't even afforded a coffin. His naked body was put on display to teach the English subjects a lesson. I'm not sure what that lesson was. Then they wrapped him in some cloth and buried him in the Church of the Grey Friars, which is now a parking lot.
They found a direct decendant of the king's sister living in Canada and have confirmed the relationship through mDNA. That's mitochondrial DNA. For those of you who may not understand why this evidence is definitive, let the old--ahem former--biology teacher explain it to you.
The DNA in the nucleus of your cells contains the instructions for making you you. Half from your mother, half from your father. One fourth is from your father's father and one-fourth from your father's mother. Trace it back for, say 10 generations, and only about 0.02 percent of the nuclear DNA you now carry came from your ten greats grandfather. Or your 10 greats grandmother. In other words, you are the product of about 5000 people who lived at the time of the American Revolution.
Richard III had no children, but no matter. They and their descendants would be useless for our purposes.
He did have a sister and his sister had children.
Mitochondria are tiny energy packs in cells but outside the nucleus. They have a special kind of DNA. With only a few genes, their DNA (mDNA) doesn't have nearly as much info as the nuclear DNA. Your mDNA came only from your mother. Her mDNA came from her mother. And so on. Why? Remember, a sperm is tiny. Nothing more than a half-pack of DNA with a tail. An egg is huge. It's a complete cell with mitochondria, ribosomes--the whole works, but only a half-pack of DNA. If the fortunate sperm and the egg do meet--two half-packs make a whole pack and the new individual has . . . but you already know.
What about the new individual's mDNA? It's exactly like his or her mother's. (Except for the occasional mutation) Men are dead ends for mDNA. Women who have children are forever, as long as their daughters keep having daughters.
So, when these bones were found, scientists went looking for a descendant of Richard's sister's daughter's daughter's daughter's . . . etc. They found a man in Canada whose mDNA (from his mother) filled the bill. Fortunately the English never throw anything away, especially records. They compared this man's mDNA with a little bit they extracted from the bones and--TA DA--it matched. Maybe not a perfect match but the number of mutations that would accumulate in 500 years is small compared to the total.

On a recent trip to London, I dropped by the National Portrait Gallery on Trafalgar Square and studied the best-known painting of Richard III (not the one you see here) No matter how long I looked, I couldn't see a villan. I saw a worried man. I hope historians will take another look him.

How do we look to them?

If I asked you, "What do people from other countries notice most about us when they visit the U.S?" What would you guess? My own guesses would be that we're rude, loud, rich, and stupid. That we're trying to control the world. That we're so stupid we believe what the (government, news media, people who are really in control, choose one) tell us.

As you probably know, I'm an inveterate traveler and I've had a lot of opportunity to hear what others think of us. You might be surprised. I'm especially amused by comments I've heard from foreigners who've actually visited and aren't just repeating what their own media (or ours) have told them.

Here are some real-life examples.

From an Australian I met in South Africa: "Your restaurants serve too bloody much food! They bring you a plate that a normal person couldn't eat in a week."

From a Chinese girl: " I love your blue sky."

From a Turkish man: "I hate to drive in America. It's boring! Why do you obey the traffic laws? We don't."

From a young German man: "Americans are fatter." This, after puzzling for some time over the question, How are Americans different from Germans?

From a teacher leading a group of Hawaiian school kids from Hampton, Virginia to Washington, D.C.(Okay, I know Hawaii is in the U.S. but the Eastern seaboard is a looong way from Hawaii.)

"Nevermind the history. They're only interested in two things. Your squirrels and your lightning-bugs."

I love that! It puts us in our place. We're neither the best, or the worst, or the richest, or the ugliest. We, like they, run the gamut. And you'd be surprised to hear what they notice when they visit.

I'd love to know what you've heard from foreign visitors to our shores. It might make an interesting book.

Rethinking social media

How should a writer spend his time?

Writing books or Tweeting, Blogging, Facebooking and updating the old website? How much of your time should you spend doing what you do and how much time advertising it?

How's your platform?

I'm getting bored with this.

For years we've been told the only way to sell books, especially ebooks, is by maintaining a high profile online, but it's beginning to look like that Internet bubble we watched pop at the turn of the millenium. It's getting out of hand. Would you like to read a novel written in 10 days? Current wisdom says that's all the time you've got if you want to turn out a book a year.

Here's how I figure it: Take one of the lucky few who, like myself, don't need a day job and can write full-time. You're advised to spend 80% of your time in social media on topics that have nothing to do with selling books. If  more than 20% of your Facebook presence is about your books, your friends will feel like they're being used. And they might be right. Okay. You're also advised to spend 80% of your writing time promoting yourself, 20% actually writing.

Hasn't Amanda Hocking switched over to a traditional publisher so she can actually have time to write? I have news for her. The traditional publishers also expect you to promote yourself. Agatha Christie, too shy to speak in public, would never have made it in today's market.

Back to the numbers: Let's say I work a standard 40 hour week, and I don't take any vacation.  52 weeks X 40 hours/week = 2080 hours/year pursuing my dream. 80% of my social media time is stuff like photos of my dogs, what I did last night, happy birthday to friends, etc. and 20% is stuff like photos of my new book cover, check out this review, etc. But 80% of the time I spend with my laptop on my knees, is spent on these pursuits vs 20% on making up stories. What is 20% of 20% of 2080 hours/year? It's 83.2 hours/year. Working 8 hours/day that's 10.4 days per year. To write a book.

Who's actually doing this? Nobody much, I think. I've recently discovered how very naive I am. Other writers are making up alter-egos (called "sock-puppets") to toot horns for them. They're hiring agencies to tweet for them, often several times a day. They're hiring people to write reviews for them and post on Amazon. The more honest ones are hiring people to teach them how to tweet. Isn't that like "tutoring tooters to toot?"

I promise I'll never do that. If you read something I allegedly wrote, you can be sure I wrote it. If you read a review of one of my books, you can be sure I had nothing to do with it. But I'm seriously considering stopping this lunacy and writing a book.

Don't miss it if you can!

Come to Barnes and Noble, Jefferson Ave, Newport News, VA on Saturday July 28th (the day after tomorrow) between 2 and 4 p.m. I'll be signing my new hardcover from Five Star, Death of a Second Wife. 

Going first class

Airfares make no sense.
How much does it cost to fly New York to London, roundtrip, in say, December, on a major airline? I found prices from $640 to $43,000. Same dates, same airports. Okay the $43k flight does take you through Hong Kong, but nonstop flights still range from $640 to $19,000. This makes no sense.
Prices vary by date, by airline, by number of stops, and by website. But the biggest differences are between classes: Economy to First. Travellers on the same plane have paid vastly different prices. Why? Comfort.
I've heard that airlines are phasing out first class because it's a money loser. Huh? They say it's because no one actually pays these exorbitant prices. Companies make deals to fly their employees for less.
I've also heard that airlines lose money on economy seats but make up for it on first class.
Both of these cannot be true. Somebody's lying.

Sleeps on a plane

I used to wonder why anyone would pay for anything better than economy seats. That was before they started shrinking the seats and my bones got some age on them. I still, for short flights of three hours or less, think economy is perfectly okay. I'm a medium sized woman. But for long flights, I'm going for the upgrade.
Some airlines have added a new class called Economy Comfort, or something similar. I took one of these on a recent Washington to Amsterdam flight and found the extra room to be well worth the extra $165.
 Some airlines are upgrading Business Class until it's as nice as First. It's all about room, and how much your seat reclines. For overnight flights, there's nothing like a bed. I like to use Seatguru and compare. But there is a difference between "lie-flat" and "flat bed" seats. Lie flat seats do flatten out but they're still on a bit of a tilt. Flat Bed seats are better for sleeping.

Let me tell you about a perfectly wonderful Upper Class trip I took on Virgin Atlantic. VA is not paying me to say any of this. It was a splurge, but not a huge splurge. I paid a bit more than double what it would have cost me to fly Economy.
The flight attendants greeted me with a glass of champagne and I suppose I could have drunk myself blind for no charge but I didn't want to arrive hung-over. My seat was more like a little suite, with everything I could possibly need built in near my head. I had chosen the "Sleep Zone" so I wouldn't be disturbed. They gave me jammies and a place to change, a pillow and blanket of course, and a toiletries kit (which they give everyone) It was so nice I could hardly get to sleep, wanting to savor the whole experience. Nevertheless, I did doze off and arrived in London feeling ever so much better than I usually do. You can go to the fast lane for Immigration.
To freshen up before hitting the streets of London, I went to the Upper Class lounge in Heathrow, where they take charge of your luggage while you eat anything you want for breakfast, shower in a truly luxurious private room with big towels, a hairdryer, lotions, etc, and hang around until you're ready to leave. You could even get a manicure or a facial.
Totally worth it.
Advice? Start with Kayak or whatever to get an idea of the price range. Choose an airline and go to their website to book. Consider upgrading on long haul flights. And as always, don't forget to bring your sense of humor.

Like the feel of paper? Oh, really?

In the battle of ebooks vs paper, the comment I hear most often from people who like paperbacks best is, "But I like the feel of paper. You know?" This is usually accompanied by rubbing the fingers together in a "feeling" gesture.

Are you sure? You don't like the feel of paper plates, do you? How about those paper gowns you get at the doctor's office? May I suggest that it isn't really the feel of paper you like, but it's the easy answer. It avoids the real answer(s) which, in most social situations, would take entirely too long to explain. And no one really wants to hear it, anyway.

Here's my take on the real reasons some people prefer paper and the real reasons some people prefer the e-options.

Paperback:
1. If you leave it on the seat in the boarding area, you aren't out much.
2. You can write on the pages or even tear them out, if you want to.
3. If you enjoyed it, you can hand it to a friend with a casual, "Don't bother to return it."
4. There's no cybertrail so no one will ever know you read it.
5. You can throw it at the wall.

Ebooks:
1. You don't have to go to the store to get it.
2. The pages don't turn yellow.
3. They're never out of stock.
4. Some of them are free and many cost much less than a paper version.
5. You can carry thousands of them in one hand.

All things considered, I have no intention of giving up any of my options. I'll still buy paperbacks, hardcovers, and ebooks.

My Bucket List. What's on yours?

In South Africa last month my five companions kept mentioning that they'd just ticked another item off their bucket list. I've never had a bucket list--not an actual list. So I decided to do one. Here's mine. I'd like to hear about yours.

Now, I'm not putting everything on this list. As I started jotting things down, I saw that they all had something to do with travel. They were all places, not events or activities. More thinking and I realized I do have achievement goals as well, but they are too personal to share. Goals like: win a Pulitzer Prize, marry Prince William, head up a Space Shuttle crew, play guitar like Eric Clapton. Oh, I said I wasn't sharing.

Here's my list:
1. Gobekli Tepe, Turkey
2. Tierra del Fuego, Argentina
3. Return to Luxor, Egypt
4. Ride the Orient Express
5. China
6. California Wine Country
7. Mount Desert Island, Maine
8. Casablanca
9. Paris (That's right. I've never been to Paris!)
10. Amazon Rain Forest

What's on yours?

That's a French accent, isn't it?

This is the last installment of Karen Krause's adventure in audiobook narration, and I'm so sad. I had no idea so much was involved. When writing my travel mysteries, I never think about how many of my characters are not American. From now on, I'll think about it. Frankly, I think the quality of the book Karen and her husband produced are way above the others, many of them produced by large studios. But the refrigerator? In the kitchen, several soundproof walls away?

IF IT’S TUESDAY, THIS MUST BE BELGIUM?

Our first recording session was rough, but we eventually learned what days were high air traffic days and what times were best for outside noises.

With all of the technical issues under control, I was able to concentrate on performance.  I’d already done my pre-recording work defining characters and accents and making notes regarding same. 

Now, I thought this would be the easy part, since I’ve created hundreds of characters in my life on stage.  And in some ways it was.  But trying to keep track of twenty or more characters and voices is a bit like doing vocal gymnastics; hopping, jumping and twisting from one voice to another in the space of a breath.  There are
characters from different countries, from different parts of countries, old and young, male and female, angry, stubborn, lost, excited . . . .

But, I remembered, we are recording.  I can take time between characters if necessary.  No need to rush or keep pace as I would in front of a live audience.  We can edit out the pauses later.  Even with this luxury, keeping the different accents and voices separate requires concentration and focus.  Especially when there are several different characters speaking in the same scene. 

My dear husband stopped me numerous times to point out that I had used the wrong voice for this character or that one.  There was even once when I heard the all-too-familiar “Stop” from the next room.  I believe the character I was reading was French.

“That was Irish, wasn’t it?” I said meekly.

“I think so.”

There weren’t even any Irish characters in this particular story.  Too bad.  I do a mean Irish accent, if I do say so myself.

We finally reached the end of our recording, and I emitted a sigh of satisfaction.  Now all we had to do was edit and do some re-recording of spots missed.  Easy for me, since the editing would fall upon my husband’s shoulders.  I would read the manuscript twice with the recording to make sure we were word-for-word, but the rest of the work was his.

We had been told it takes about two to four hours to edit one finished hour of recording.  I’m sure the people who gave this information had never worked with my husband.  He has the best ear of anyone I know.  And he doggedly listened to every millisecond with that ear; carving out all of the mouth sounds, clicks, background noises, and things that for the life of me I couldn’t hear, even when he told me what I was to listen for.  I told him, “You have to lower the bar.  If it’s too perfect, it won’t sound natural”.  He tried, but I honestly think if we hadn’t had a deadline, he might still be editing that first book.

We met our deadline.  It was a long, somewhat rocky journey, but we both came out at the end proud of what we’d done and with the desire to continue. 

After sending off the completed audiobook, my husband looked at me and said, “We’ve finally found something we can do together.”  I wrinkled my brow.  “But we’re doing it in separate rooms,” I responded.

I will leave you with a few of the things we learned on our journey.

1. A soundproof vocal booth is HEAVEN!

2. Don’t lose the human element.  It’s acceptable to be a step below perfection.

3. You can be intense without deafening the engineer.

4. Don’t overdo the accents.  It’s more important the listeners understand the words than you impress them with your French accent.

5. Stay hydrated.  It’s not enough to drink lots of water right before a session.  It takes a day or two to get the vocal cords “oiled up”.

6. Patience is a virtue. 

7. Don’t forget to turn the refrigerator BACK ON after the session is over.

8. Did I say, patience is a virtue?

Thanks, Karen. Thanks for the laughs and the education.

PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES

Today we learn what the green apple slices are for. This post from narrator Karen Krause is the third of four, telling us what audiobook producers go through. It takes me back to a frustrating day I spent recording a tape to go with a slide presentation on gems and minerals I made for my science classes. I live in the flight pattern for jets from Langley Air Force Base.

PLANES, TRAINS AND MOUTH CLICKS

Once my husband’s ears stopped ringing from my unintentional assault on them, we went through the checklist.

Copy ready?  Check.  Microphone on (well, we tested that already) . . .  Computer up and running?  Check.  Refrigerator off?  Check.  Furnace off?  Check.  Dogs shut up in the back room?  Check. 

Let’s do this thing!

We had deliberately waited until evening, after most people had finished the day and gone inside to do whatever people do between supper and bed, hoping the outside noise would be at a minimum.  All was peaceful and quiet.  Perfect.

I took a drink of water and began the introduction.  So far, so good.

On to the first chapter.  I’d already read and reread the manuscript, made character notes, and marked spots that needed special attention when being read aloud.  I took a deep, calming breath.

“Chapter One”

“Stop!” I hear from the next room.

“What?”

“Don’t you hear that?”

I tilted my head and listened.  Ah, jet noise.  Our house is not in the direct flight path, but during certain wind or weather patterns, the air traffic is rerouted so that it passes near us.  It’s not loud enough to notice during normal activities, but is quite obvious in the recording.  I sighed and waited for it to pass.

“Okay, start again, Chapter One.”

“Chapt—no, it’s coming back.”

“Sounds like they’re in a pattern.  We’ll have to wait till they pass.”

Two emails, a trip to the bathroom, and a water refill later, I finally sat back down in front of the microphone and listened.  No jets. 

We were well into the 7^th or 8^th page before the next jet interruption.  Or was it a helicopter?  “Patience is a virtue”, I said to myself.  This was to become a phrase I would repeat daily.

Finally, we got into a rhythm, and I was getting into the performance of the characters, when again from the next room I hear, “What are you doing in there?”

“What?”

“It sounds like you’re chewing or smacking.”

“No.” 

“Well, take a drink.  Do something.  It sounds awful.”

Ah, the green apple slices.  That’s what they’re for.  You can chew it; you can suck it; you can bite it but not chew it; you can chew it but not swallow it.  The reports disagree on exactly how to best get that apple pectin working on your dry mouth, but green apple is universally touted on all the voice-over sites. 

It didn’t work for me.  I tried water.  I tried apple juice. I tried cinnamon.  I tried drying my tongue.  It got better, but it appears I am cursed with a noisy mouth.  It would just have to be added to the list of things to edit out post-recording.

When the neighbor turned on his compressor, which he often does when working on his car, we called it a night.

Despite, jets, passing cars, my mouth smacking, and neighbor intrusions (there really weren’t any trains, but I thought it sounded good in the title), we made it through the first chapter. 

Our feet were wet and we were ready for more.

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

Today, Karen Krause brings us the second installment in the adventures of a newbie audiobook narrator. Go to Audible, iTunes, or Amazon to hear a sample of her recording of my Death on the Aegean Queen.

With the first hurdle cleared (getting the contract to produce a book), the real work began.  Now we had decisions to make.  How do we set up the recording space?  Which microphone do we use?  Which pre-amp?  Do we use a compressor?  Which program will we record into and edit with?  How do we map out a schedule?  It seems with every question we answered, a new one materialized.

Fortunately, for me, we had my husband’s experience to guide us.  As a musician, songwriter, and composer, he’s logged hundreds, possibly thousands, of hours recording, editing, and manipulating sound.  He already had the basics we needed to produce a quality recording.  The fact that his expertise was in music rather than the spoken word, meant we had some adjusting to do; but for the most part, we had all the tools we needed.

We set up a spare bedroom as our sound booth.  Old duvets lined the walls and hung in strategic positions to baffle the sound and muffle outside noises.  After testing various microphone/pre-amp combinations, we settled on the one we liked the best.  We set it up in a portable isolation box to isolate the sound even more.  I brought in my water and green apple slices (which I’d been told I would need, but wasn’t really sure what to do with), sat down in my chair, my copy on the music stand in front of me, eager to finally get into the “fun” part.

I couldn’t see or hear my husband.  He was in front of the computer in the room adjacent to mine, holding a copy of the manuscript in front of him so he could follow along for continuity. 

“Are you ready?” he yelled. 

“What?” 

“I said, are you ready?” he yelled, louder. 

“Yes!” I yelled back.

“Ow!  You don’t have to yell!  I can hear you through the headphones!”

We were off to a great start.

Okay, what are the green apples for?

Recording an Audiobook: What does it take?

In preparation for producing Death on the Aegean Queen as an audiobook, I first considered doing the narration myself. Thank God, the good people at ACX talked me out of it. It's harder than you think and VERY few writers can do it. Okay, let's get someone competent to do it. I listened to the audition tapes of a bunch of producers (that's what they call the person or group that can turn your book into audio) and chose the lovely Karen Krause because her voice sounded much like my viewpoint character, Dotsy Lamb, sounds in my head.

But narrating an audiobook is not just a matter of reading it. You mustn't cough. Your clothes mustn't rustle. Sit up straight. What if a plane or a garbage truck goes by? How do you eliminate everything but the words?


I asked Karen to tell us more about the process and I'm posting the first half of her answer today. Second half tomorrow.

WE’RE RECORDING AN AUDIOBOOK!?!

Books have always been a passion of mine.  My family moved a lot when I was young, so making friends was hard.  My books became my best friends.  In the summers, I would climb the nearest tree and sit for hours reading; imagining myself living the lives of the characters in my books.  As I grew older, and busier, I no longer had hours for reading, but had to steal the time from my grown-up responsibilities. 

Then I discovered audiobooks.  Wow!  I can read and clean the bathroom?  Or read while I drive to work?  Or read and weed the garden?  Heaven!

And then one day I realized, “I can read and share my passion with the world”.  I wanted to narrate those audiobooks I loved to “read”.  So, I started auditioning. 

Now, I’m no stranger to rejection.  I’ve been singing and acting on stage since I was seven years old, and I know how brutal the audition process can be.  So, I didn’t expect much to happen at first.  I was prepared for weeks, maybe months to go by before I was offered a book to narrate. 

After a long night of recording and editing, I sent off my first audition, tried to tell myself not to expect anything, and went to bed.  Six hours of fitful sleep later, I went downstairs to find a message waiting.  They loved my audition and would I accept a contract to narrate and produce the book?

“I’ve been offered a contract.  S**t!  What do we do now?” I practically screamed to my husband, who was to be my director and engineer. 

Excitement.  Terror.  Anticipation.  Trepidation.  Insecurity.  Emotions were flying around inside of me like dust in a Kansas windstorm.  I mean, I was as confident in my abilities as any actor (we can all be crushed for days, even weeks, at the whim of a scathing critic or director), but I’d never done anything quite like this before.  This was true storytelling, an art in and of itself.   What if I really suck at this?  I took a deep, calming breath and said to myself, “There’s only one way to find out.” 

And thus began our journey into the world of audiobook production. 

Reining in the Research Monster

I love research. Before I even begin plotting a mystery I've visited the site of the story, taken photos, made notes in my journal and just sat for a good while soaking up the smells and sounds of the place. Later I lock horns with my tax accountant over whether I: 1) learned anything of use in my mystery or 2) had fun. Huh? I can't have both? I'm starting my fifth Dotsy Lamb Travel Mystery. This one is set in Oxford and although I've been there maybe 8 to 10 times, I did go last summer and stayed in the oldest (spookiest) college on a B & B basis. My room at Jesus College was in the oldest wing of the oldest quad. While lying in my little bed on the top floor overlooking Turl Street (locals say "The Turl") I imagined mine was the room T.E. Lawrence had when he was a student there. It could have been. They don't know which room was his.

Other writers do it differently. Some do no research. Some write the first draft, then research all the questions that have come up while writing. One writer I know, asked what to do about a chemical element with specific properties not found in any natural element, said, "Forget it. Make one up."

I hit the ceiling.

"You can't make up an element! It needs an atomic number and they're all taken!" That is, all the natural elements have been assigned a neat square on the periodic table and the man-made ones are all quite heavy, radioactive, and any new ones they may find probably won't last long enough in the lab to even take a photo of it.

That's the chemistry teacher in me talking.

Ruins of Glastonbury Abbey

But back to research. Today I'm using the Internet to find out all I can about, Glastonbury, King Arthur's (alleged) burial place and bones, and King Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries in 1539. These all figure into the story that's still in the ether of my head, but the research is so engrossing, I'm in danger of doing what I've done before. That is, going off on a tangent and forgetting why I'm doing this.

I actually went to Glastonbury two years ago and I'm kicking myself now for taking our guide's advice. She said, "Don't bother going to the Abbey. There's nothing there." I now know that her definition of nothing and mine are greatly different. I should have gone. But at the time, I didn't know it would every figure into a story.

Meanwhile, If you know some good websites for information on any of the above mentioned, let me know.

Walking with Lions

Young lion at Lion Encounter

The number of African lions in the wild has decreased 80% to 90% in the last thirty years. I'm sure you already know why: growth of human population and habitat shrinkage. In Zimbabwe, we found a wonderful program designed to return lions to the wild. For a small fee (proceeds going to the rehabilitation project) the seventeen members of our group were allowed to take a walk through the grassland with a couple of lions.  Eleven months old, they were already about the size of hefty german shepherds.

It's a four stage program. In stage one, young captive lions are moved to the rehab property, but still fed and protected. They are used to human contact and cannot, themselves, ever be truly wild. In stage two they are released, but into a protected area where they hunt for themselves and hopefully form or join a pride. If the pride seems stable enough it is released into the real wild. The cubs born into this pride of lions are truly wild. Success.

Me and my walking buddies

I had to do this while still on crutches thanks to my pulled hamstring muscle and worried that the lions would see my crutch as a threat. No problem. Everyone was given a walking stick (Why? I'm not sure) so my crutch was just another walking stick. The guides also had walking sticks and they used them to distract the animals. Lions have really short attention spans and are easily distracted.

What's it like to pet a lion? Nice, but they aren't as soft as our cats. Their hair is a bit coarse. Another thing. All the wild animals we saw, lions, zebras, giraffes, cheetahs, buffalo, monkeys, wildebeest, impala, et al, look ever so much healthier than the ones you see in a zoo. Slick coats, bright eyes, easy gaits. Makes sense when you think about it.

The program is still pretty new, and the fate of the African lion is very much in doubt but if you want to know more, you can visit their site, www.lionencounter.com or their facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/lionalert/posts/119399634867741.

Zimbabwe vs South Africa

I'm not a political person so this is the first and last time I'll blog about politics. Probably. My visit to South Africa and Zimbabwe over the last few weeks has left me with some vivid images. In South Africa I honestly expected to find all that Cumbaya stuff following the elevation of Nelson Mandela to the presidency to be fraying a bit at the edges. I was wrong. Looks like South Africa is doing fine. Sure they have problems, but the unlikely cooperation between former president, F. W. de Klerk, and former prisoner, Mandela, has not only avoided civil war, it's brought about prosperity and an air of optimism.

Mandela's Cell on Robben Island

I toured Robben Island near Cape Town and saw the jail cell Mandela called home for 18 of his 27 years behind bars. When not breaking rocks in the limestone quarry, Mandela conducted school, call it Robben University, teaching prisoners and guards alike. After his release, now a national hero, he spoke out in favor of cooperation rather than civil war. Former president F. W. de Klerk and former prisoner Mandela worked together to establish what we now see. A country full of optimism and energy. Never friends, Mandela and de Klerk put country above personal considerations. Mandela, now 93 and frail, lives in a very nice house in Johannesburg.

Honest-to-god Zimbabwe money

Zimbabwe,has taken the other road. Following the switch to majority rule in 1980, they took a scorched earth approach to land management with the result that practically no agriculture or production of anything else is left. The economy spun out of control. Inflation devalued their currency to the ridiculous degree you see in the photo. This was a real bill. Now their official currency is the U.S. dollar. How did we get so lucky? Actually, Zimbabweans will accept almost any currency: dollars, rands, euros, socks. They really like socks. Most of our group left a pile of clothing in our rooms when we checked out. Now these are educated people with a strong work ethic. They're stuck. Their government is disfunctional and elections are rigged.

While in Johannesburg, we toured Soweto, the district where riots made international news in the 1970's. Soweto is looking better. They still have some squalid tin-and-cardboard camps, but now they they're full of refugees from Zimbabwe.

"First find the lion, then I'll give you a blanket."

No one's ever said that to me before.
But last week in Kapama Game Reserve on the western fringe of Krueger Park in South Africa our guide, John, came out with that statement and I said, "Okay." As the Southern Hemisphere heads into winter, temperatures in the bush plummet when the sun goes down. Pleasant during the day, cold at night. We'd been exploring the brush and washed-out ravines since late afternoon in our Toyota Land Cruiser, challenging its four-wheel drive to the limit.

John was on the radio with another guide a mile or so away and learned they'd spotted a pair of lions sleeping in the tall grass. Nearby they'd also found a fresh wildebeest carcass and both lions had bellies rounded by their big meal. These lions are wild, but life on the Game Reserve has accustomed them to people. People in Land Cruisers, John told us, the lions don't consider worth their notice. People on foot are dinner.

Of course, we wanted to find them. That's when John looked at us, now shivering in our lightweight shirts, and said, "First, we find the lion, then I'll give you a blanket."

We took off down dirt roads without markers, then veered off into untrodden bush, bouncing over small acacias as we went. There they were. Mr. and Mrs. Lion, lying in the tall grass a few feet apart, and so oblivious of us they hardly blinked when our spotter shined a spotlight right in their eyes.
What a life!

The Cape of Good Hope

I'm back from a wonderful trip to South Africa and Zimbabwe, on crutches and without my luggage. It was a "pinch me, I can't believe I'm here" experience with something astounding every day. I'll post photos in the next few blogs, but today's pics are from Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope, as they are the ones I have on my iPad. The others are on my camera which I can't recharge until I get my wires and things. They are in my luggage which is in Spain.

In Cape Town, we stayed at Southern Sun The Cullinan, near the waterfront. Gracious, airy, and staffed by some of the nicest people you could ever meet, I could have spent the whole time there. My four friends and I started with the Green Market, where we went wild haggling and buying things for which we have absolutely no use, but what bargains!

The first official day of our tour took us to the Cape of Good Hope, the southwestern-most tip of the continent, where I expected to see whales and seals, but what we actually saw were penguins (Jackass penguins, so named because of the noise they make), ostriches, baboons, cape zebras, and dassies. Dassies are the only living members of the genus Petromus, and we found them among the rocks at the top of Cape Town's Table Mountain. Very cute.

Next, we visited Boulders Beach and its colony of Jackass penguins. They are severely endangered and like all penguins, TOO cute.

I really didn't expect to find zebras and baboons so close to Antarctica but there they were, flourishing, only a mile or so from the windswept Cape. Here, I'll violate the rule of good blogs and post more photos than text. You're supposed to do it the other way around, but I don't care to leave any of these out.

Turkish Oddities

As I traveled through Turkey, I ruminated about the plot for The Man on the Istanbul Train. I knew I'd need to go to the Haydarpasa station, take photos, and swipe a train schedule. I knew I'd need to take notes on the tram lines in Istanbul and on any archaeological sites we encountered in the Anatolian Plateau. I didn't know the Egyptian Spice Market would play such an important role so I didn't take nearly enough photos there. (Thanks, YouTube)

I did get some great shots of things I'll bet you've never seen.

How about an exploding cucumber?  Ecballium elaterium grows wild there. If you touch its spiny seed pod with a credit card or something it explodes, sending a poisonous mixture of seeds and gunk about 10 ft into the air. I got a glob on my shirt.

How about a huge, disc-shaped boulder tucked into a slot in an underground city? In Cappacodocia, we walked through the narrow passages of an entire, multilevel underground city used by early Christians when their new religion was still outlawed. These boulders, rolled across the passages would wall invaders out, or maybe in, horrors! Guaranteed. It reminded me of a scene from Indiana Jones. In this photo you have to look closely at the top center and find the curved edge of one on the left side of the passage.

When they want to unwind the nearly invisible silk threads from a cocoon, the rug weavers dunk the cocoons in hot water, then poke at the mass with a sort of whisk broom, The broom picks up several dozen threads which are then spun into a . . . thread. A bigger thread, but still almost invisible. They use natural plant dyes, which fed beautifully into my story because my protagonist, Lacy Glass, is a botanist who specializes in plant pigments.



Have you learned something today?

The Cost of ePubbing

Five minutes ago I put The Man on the Istanbul Train on Amazon Kindle. It will be "In Review" for a day or so, then "Live" and available for $3.99. This morning's action cost me nothing, but getting it to this point has cost me $1500. I'm posting this for other writers, not for sympathy.
You don't have to spend a penny to ePub but the end product will likely show it. Here's how my expenses break down:  Editing-$900, Cover design-$400, Formatting-$200.
I did not skimp. I retained the best editor I know and the best cover designer I know. You gets what you pays for. The result is a novel I'm proud of, but which will need to sell for some months before I break even.
Authors? Readers? Leave me a comment. Worth it?

Preparing for a long flight

I fly to South Africa next Saturday. Well, actually Saturday and Sunday because I leave Washington on Saturday evening, change planes in Amsterdam Sunday morning, and arrive in Capetown Sunday evening, 23 hours later. A flight of this duration can bring on deep vein thrombosis (DVT), dehydration, red eyes, jet lag, and increased susceptibility to scores of airborne diseases. So I'm girding my loins for the long haul.

Why can't it be like it used to be? Back in the 60s, it was fun and luxurious and cheap. Was it really? In the 60s you could fly from New York to San Francisco in 6 hours for about $326. Your seat probably boasted a 34" pitch. That's the distance from your seat to the one in front of you.

Today, New York to San Francisco, Economy, will set you back about $550. The flight still takes about 6 hours and your seat will have a 31" to 33" pitch. You could fly business class and get a seat with 37" pitch, but that'll cost about $3150.

Wait a minute! Corrected for inflation, that $326 in 1965 would be $2230 today. Not much less than business class today and your seat would have been considerably smaller. And that $550 we pay today would have been $80 back then. So airline prices haven't really increased over the past forty years or so. It's just that, in the 60s all seats were like the ones in the front of the plane today. So how did the average person swing it? They didn't. They went Greyhound.

Are the seats really that much smaller or are we just larger?

Let's not talk about that. Preparing for this flight, I have purchased compression socks, an inflatable neck pillow, and a Nada chair (a device that moves the stress on your back to your knees.) I'm going to hydrate like hell ahead of time, and I've loaded my iPod with sleepy-time music. Forget the melatonin pills. I have them but they don't work on me.  I will blog occasionally while away and let you know whether any of this stuff worked.