Interview with mystery author Rosemary Simpson

Welcome, readers. My special guest today is Rosemary Simpson. We’re chatting about her new historical mystery, Let the Dead Keep Their Secrets (A Gilded Age Mystery).

Bio:

Rosemary Simpson is the author of two previous historical novels, The Seven Hills of Paradise and Dreams and Shadows, and two previous Gilded Age Mysteries, What the Dead Leave Behind and Lies That Comfort and Betray. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and the Historical Novel Society. Educated in France and the United States, she now lives near Tucson, Arizona.

Welcome, Rosemary. Please tell us about your current release.

Let the Dead Keep Their Secrets is the third book in the Gilded Age Mystery series, set in New York City in the late 1880s. Opera singer Claire Buchanan shows heiress Prudence MacKenzie and ex-Pinkerton Geoffrey Hunter a postmortem cabinet photograph of her deceased twin sister and newborn niece. Claire is convinced that a double murder has been committed by the cold, controlling widower, Aaron Sorensen, who swiftly remarried. His second wife is already pregnant and may be in terrible danger. In order to discover the truth and find evidence of guilt, Geoffrey probes Sorensen's past while Prudence casts herself as his next victim—putting her own life at grave risk.

What inspired you to write this book?

Postmortem photography was extremely popular during the era in which the novel is set. Black-bordered cabinet photos and cartes de visite served to announce and memorialize deaths, especially the passing of children. There was also a belief that the soul flew out of a person's mouth at the moment of death, and photographers vied for the distinction of being the first to capture the image of a departing soul. I imagined a photographer so obsessed with that idea that he hastened the deaths of mortally ill individuals in order to seize the moment of the soul in flight. And that's where the plot was born!

Excerpt from Let the Dead Keep Their Secrets:

The woman Josiah ushered into Geoffrey Hunter’s office was tall and slender, elegantly dressed in a gown that could only have been fashioned in one of the couturier salons of Paris. The high-necked black wool afternoon costume gleamed and glistened with elaborate designs of jet-beaded passementerie, rosettes, twisted cording, and finely worked braid, its severe perfection lightened by a fall of snow-white lace from the interior of the narrow sleeves. The perfectly pointed V waist and naturally contoured bustle were the epitome of the latest European fashion as pictured in Godey’s Lady’s Book.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Prudence,” she said. “I hope you’ll forgive me for declining your supper invitation last night. The rehearsal schedule has been brutal.” The women exchanged

kisses on the cheek in the French fashion; then Claire held out a gloved hand to Geoffrey. “I hardly recognize you when you’re not lurching about on the deck of a ship.” Her speech was lightly accented, as though she had spoken English as a child, then lived abroad for many years.

She accepted the cup of coffee Josiah handed her, settling herself into the chair he placed in front of Geoffrey’s desk. With one penetrating look she seemed to take his measure; the

slightest of nods indicated he would do.

“Thank you again for last night’s tickets to Aïda,” Prudence began.

“It wasn’t the best of performances,” Claire said. “There’s no point pretending otherwise.” She gestured toward the folded Times. “I see you’ve read the review.”

“Will Frau Schröder-Hanfstängl continue?”

“Everyone gets bad reviews occasionally. There was a rumor for a while that she was considering a teaching position at one of the conservatories, but nothing came of it. All performers grow thick skins. We wouldn’t survive otherwise. So, yes, she’ll sing for the rest of this season at the Met and probably for years to come.”

“I’m sure you can’t help but wish it were otherwise,” Geoffrey said. He knew that some artistes spent their entire professional careers singing minor roles or lost in the chorus, waiting for the chance that never came.

“Prudence mentioned that you’re a former Pinkerton agent, Mr. Hunter.” Claire Buchanan deftly sidestepped his comment.

“The Pinkertons claim to be the best detectives in the world. Is that true?”

“It’s a well-deserved reputation,” he answered.

“I hadn’t realized there were lady detectives until Prudence told me about your partnership and that Allan Pinkerton had hired female operatives,” Claire continued. “You were kind aboard ship not to ask questions about my personal life. I’m sure I made it obvious I wouldn’t welcome them.” She smiled an apology. “I wasn’t keeping secrets to be deliberately mysterious. I thought that if I didn’t talk about it, the pain would eventually lessen. So I taught Prudence the tarot and avoided all mention of what I’ve lost.”

“How can we be of assistance, Miss Buchanan?” Geoffrey asked. Josiah had been right, as usual. Their shipboard acquaintance had come to the office today with the intention of becoming a client.

The opera singer reached into a velvet reticule whose passementerie matched the patterns on her dress. She took out a black cardboard folder slightly larger than her hand. “Open it,” she said, giving the folder to Prudence. “A part of me dies every time I look at it.”

The cardboard was of the thickness used to mount and protect photographs, the two covers tied together by a narrow black silk ribbon. On the front was an embossed design of intertwined lilies surrounded by a stand of cypress trees, popular symbols of mourning throughout the Western world.

“Is this what I think it is?” Prudence asked. She’d seen cabinet photos like this one too many times not to recognize what she’d been given. She glanced up in time to catch a twitch of aversion cross Geoffrey’s face.

“Please undo the tie.”

Prudence opened the folder. Inside, mounted within an oval cutout decorated with the same motif of lilies and weeping cypress trees, was the photograph of a young woman holding in her lap a perfect infant. Eyes open, tiny features composed and expressionless, the child had been posed with its head lying against the mother’s bosom, as though to be comforted by the sound of her heartbeat.

Except that both of them were dead when the photograph was taken.

The lifeless woman was Claire Buchanan.

What exciting story are you working on next?

The fourth book in the Gilded Age Mystery series, Death Leaves a Shadow, will be released by Kensington in late 2019, and I'm working on the fifth volume. No title yet. I'm also developing another mystery series and crafting a standalone historical novel.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I've always written. I can't remember a time when I wasn’t writing. For me, the writing life started with a journal. When I occasionally go back and read some of the entries, they almost always include mention of a storyline I was developing.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I do write full-time now, and I start the day by listing the non-writing things that have to get done. Meetings, appointments, all of the commitments I can't postpone. Then I decide when I can work in blocks of time for concentrated writing work. I end up with a schedule that I try to stick to as much as possible, and which is slightly different day to day. It's also important to allow time for the research I do as a writer of historical fiction. And no writer should starve himself of reading time. That's vital!

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

Probably the detailed spreadsheets I keep of daily time and word counts. I also write short summaries of every chapter and ongoing character development profiles.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I always wanted to be either a writer or an actress because it meant you could live in so many different worlds of the imagination.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

When I'm writing I feel transported into another place and time. My goal is always to take the reader along with me.

Thanks for being here today, Rosemary. Happy writing!

Interview with novelist G.A. McKevett

Mystery author G. A. McKevett joins me today to chat about her new cozy novel, Murder in Her Stocking.

Bio:

Since publication of her first novel in 1986, Sonja Massie has authored over sixty published works, including the highly popular and critically acclaimed Savannah Reid Mysteries under the pseudonym G. A. McKevett.

Sonja's novels range from Irish historicals to contemporary thrillers. Her earthy humor and fast-paced plots delight her fans, while critics applaud her offbeat characterizations and incisive observations on human nature.

Irish by ancestry, Sonja has authored two non-fiction books on the history of Ireland: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Irish History And Culture and Irish Pride: 101 Reasons to Be Proud You're Irish. Both books impart detailed knowledge of the complex and controversial Irish story with a light hand and plenty of humor. Her Irish novels include: Dream Carver, Daughter Of Ireland and the bestselling Far and Away - the novelization of the Ron Howard movie starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.

On nationwide tours, Sonja lectures to published and "pre-published" authors in her workshop, "The Novel Approach," a seminar which covers such topics as: story structure, characterization, plotting, pacing, and marketing manuscripts.

Sonja has taught numerous courses at university and adult continuing education facilities including: general fiction, historical research, and mystery writing. She was managing editor at "Single Living" magazine and has functioned as a manuscript doctor and storyline editor for major publishers. Earlier in her career, she was a prolific ghostwriter, authoring both fictional and non-fictional books for celebrities and professionals.

Having lived in Los Angeles, Toronto, and County Kerry, Ireland, she now resides in New York.

Welcome, G. A. Please tell us about your current release.

Murder in Her Stocking is the first book of the new Granny Reid Mysteries. This new series is a prequel to the Savannah Reid Mysteries, which I’ve been writing for the past 25 years.

What inspired you to write this book?

From the beginning, fans of the Savannah series have told me how much they love Savannah’s grandmother, who is in most of those books. (When Granny doesn’t appear, I hear about it!) Throughout the Savannah stories, we’ve heard bits and pieces about how Granny Reid raised Savannah and her eight siblings. Though how this came about has never been fully explained.

Since Granny has been so popular with my readers, I thought she deserved a series of her own, and happily, my editor and publisher agreed. Certainly, there will be a murder mystery in each book, but what I find most satisfying about writing this series is the chance to explore the backstory of characters we’ve only known as adults in the Savannah Mysteries. Plus, it’s fun to go back to the 1980s, to a quaint little town in rural Georgia, to the “good old days” of big hair, shoulder pads, and disco music. Though of course, people being people, there was plenty of skullduggery going on, even in little McGill, with its three block long Main Street and one stoplight.

Being blessed with the darned-near-spiritual gift of Divine Nosiness, Stella “Granny” Reid finds herself in the thick of the tightknit community’s various scandals, from the dastardly “desecration” of Christmas decorations, to rumors about the school principal’s Grinch-bedazzled boxer shorts floating down the street (after his wife tossed him out the door and his belongings out the window), to the murder of the town’s preeminent floozy, Prissy Carr, who dies in Stella’s arms in a cold, dark alley.

What exciting story are you working on next?

At the moment, I’m writing the second of the Granny Reid Mysteries, Murder in the Corn Maze. It’s a Halloween book, in which Granny and her friend, Elsie Dingle, uncover some disturbing facts about their own family histories.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

The day I received a phone call from a New York editor, offering to buy my first book and make me a real, grownup, published writer! We didn’t have caller ID in those days, but long-distance phone calls had a certain, distinctive, buzzing sound to them, sorta like when you were a kid, talking to your friend with two oatmeal boxes and a string tied between them.

I was living in California at the time, and as soon as I picked up the phone, I heard the buzz and knew it was either the publisher I’d sent my manuscript to in New York or my southern grandma.

I’ll never forget one word of that call until the day I die. Here’s how it went….

Me: Hello?

Her: Hello. Is this Sonja Massie?

Me: (My heart pounding so hard in my ears that I could hardly hear.) Yes.

Her: (With a playful tone) This is Phyllis Lefkowitz, calling from Silhouette Books.

Me: Ye-es!

Her: (Practically giggling) Well, we read the manuscript you sent us….

Me: (gulp) Ye-e-e-es?

Her: And we would like to make you an offer on it, if you –

Me: (screaming, totally incoherent shrieks, dropping the phone, wild dancing, finally picking the phone back up) Oh, oh! I’m so sorry I dropped you. (crying) It’s just that I’ve never sold a book before. This is the first time that I…(sobbing so hard I’m hiccupping)…I didn’t mean to scream in your ear like that!

Her: (laughing) No apology needed. I learned long enough to hold the phone away from my ear after delivering the news to a first-time author. In fact, we editors fight over who gets to make these calls.

“First time author?” I remember thinking, Oh, my goodness, she called me an “author!”

Please believe me when I tell you it was far better than winning the lottery. I know many, many people dream of authorship. I’ll be forever grateful for this gift.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I do write full time. I’m self-employed and have a mean, relentless boss. What I put up with from that woman, I’d never tolerate from anyone else. I work until very late at night (3:00am), so I sleep in late. I’m not good for much until I have a lot of strong coffee in me. So, I spend what’s left of my morning on correspondence and personal business. In the afternoon, I turn off electronic communications (only receiving calls from my kids, grandkids, and agent) and I write. I have an early dinner, then go back to work. Sometimes, I break to watch a television show with my husband. (I love the BBC productions.) and then I crank out some more. Some days the pages add up. Some days they don’t. But it’s my duty to show up, and I do. However, I take time for family. I have five grandangels, who are the lights of my life, and I set aside time for them whenever they’re available. Their schedules are even busier than mine. They come over and spend the night. We have dinner together, a session of “Arts and Craps” (their term, not mine) a movie and decadent snacks. Ahhh, those times are the best!

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I don’t know how interesting or quirky it is, but I definitely have my ritual. Before I begin, I eat one piece of high-quality chocolate to get the brain working. If it’s winter or the AC is a bit much in the summer, I cover my lap with a super soft blankie, and light a candle. I’m not sure why the candle. Probably something in my genes left over from the days when my storyteller, Irish and Native American ancestors shared their tales with their neighbors around campfires, stone hearths and coal stoves.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A nurse, until my mother gave me a description of bedpan duty that was far too graphic for a five-year-old. A ballerina, until I saw a movie that showed a dancer bandaging her bleeding toes. A rock star, until I saw a picture of Kenny Rogers sitting asleep in an uncomfortable airport chair with rollers in his hair. A cowgirl, until I found out that Michael Landon (Little Joe on Bonanza) was already married. For a while, I wanted to be a go-go dancer, wear white boots, a mini-skirt and wriggle in a cage. Let’s just say, it took a while for me to settle on “author.”

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

I want to thank them. Without their faithful readership, I’d never be able to make a living eating chocolate in my pajamas and feeling as though I’m making a difference, however small, by allowing people a few hours of escape from their troubles.

Without them, I’d just be an overaged go-go dancer, smelling faintly of Bengay and popping ibuprofen, while attempting to wriggle in a cage. (Heaven forbid.)

Links:

Website | Facebook | Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Twitter

Thanks for joining me today, G. A.