The Bubble has Burst and I Don't Care
My agent recently sent me a questionnaire about my writing goals. I got back to her quickly with a list of my short-term (this year) goals and goals for the future. Short-term goals are easy: finish the manuscript and get it into your publisher on time! Do the same with the two books coming up.
As I look into the future my goals are still pretty realistic. I want to write a third book in each of two other series, then work on what I call my “noir cozy”, a mystery with a macabre sense of humor. I also have another more traditional mystery I’ve begun. My issue now and for the next few years is time, but if you had asked me about my writing goals when I was working on my first manuscript, you would have gotten a different answer, one reflecting how little I under stood about the writing and publishing business. When I look back on those days, I have to laugh… or I’d cry from embarrassment.
I assumed that my creation of a funny gal amateur sleuth in the manner of Janet Evanovich’s protagonist would immediately win me an agent, followed shortly by a publishing contract with one of the big ones (there were more big publishers to choose from then and I was certain there would be a bidding war for my work). Rich in only several months, I would purchase a house in the Florida Keys and buy my husband that sailboat he’s always wanted. We would travel and share book tours around the world because he’s also a writer. We would appear as keynote speakers at writing conferences. Other writers would seek us out.
Sounds pretty silly, doesn’t it? Of course, but here’s one good thing about this overblown ego trip of mine. Because the balloon was so big, it took a lot of pin pricks to deflate it, so I kept on keeping on. I did get a contract and later got an agent. I do have a number of books out there, and I appear on panels at writers’ conferences. I have a lot of writer friends and most of them struggle like I do. We’re more like a family than a professional organization. I have not earned enough money from my work to rent a place in the Florida Keys for even a week. Hubby and I did have a boat, a cabin cruiser, many years old, but we had fun on her. We now live in an area of Florida where I’m glad we don’t have a boat because I’m not keen on sharing the waters with all the gators on the lakes and streams. It seems to me they own the waterways in rural Florida, so I don’t compete with them.
My bubble of unfounded expectations has not entirely burst because I love what I’m writing, and I have fun doing it. That’s a whole other kind of rich, I’d say. So far the rewards keep coming in. And the money? I rarely think about it because I’m so busy doing my thing—thinking of ways to kill people, then creating a sassy protagonist to track down the murderer.
It's smooth sailing for Eve Appel and her friend Madeleine, owners of Second to None Consignment Shop in rural Florida's Sabal Bay, land of swamps, cowboys, and lots and lots of 'gators. Eve and her detective boyfriend Alex have joined Madeleine and her new beau David Wilson for a pleasure cruise on his boat. But cloudy, dangerous waters lie ahead. A near fatal encounter with Blake Reed, David's supremely nasty neighbor, is soon followed by a shooting death on the dividing line between David and Blake's land. Both men run sport-hunting reserves, but Blake imports "exotics" from Africa and promotes gator killing, while David stays within the law, pointing clients toward the abundant quail and turkey as well as the wild pigs that ravage the landscape. Nevertheless, when a mutual client is killed, it is David who is arrested and charged with murder.
Blake's nastiness is only exceeded by that of his wife, Elvira, who forces Eve and Madeleine out of their shop, intending to replace it with a consignment shop of her own. It seems that bad luck looms over them all, even Eve's brawny and hard-to-resist Miccosukee Indian friend Sammy, whose nephew has disappeared. As the case against David grows stronger and his friends' misfortunes multiply, Eve and her strange and diverse group of friends, including her ex, a mobster, her grandma, and Sammy's extended family, band together to take on the bad guys. But the waters are getting muddier and more troubled, and Eve and Madeleine may end up inundated in every sense of the word.
Lesley retired from her life as a professor of psychology and reclaimed her country roots by moving to a small cottage in the Butternut River Valley in upstate New York. In the winter she migrates to old Florida—cowboys, scrub palmetto, and open fields of grazing cattle, a place where spurs still jingle in the post office, and gators make golf a contact sport. Back north, the shy ghost inhabiting the cottage serves as her literary muse. When not writing, she gardens, cooks and renovates the 1874 cottage with the help of her husband, two cats and, of course, Fred the ghost, who gives artistic direction to their work.
She is the author of a number of mystery series and mysteries as well as short stories. A Sporting Murder follows the first two books in the Eve Appel mystery series, A Secondhand Murder and Dead in the Water
Visit her on her website: www.lesleyadiehl.com