Does 20 feet change whether you want to end or save life?
Okay. It’s not like I consider that much. Even on long swims in the pool when my mind desperately searches for something to ponder other than a continual loop of The Magical Mystery Tour.
Early one morning last week, I slipped out of the house to go swim.
About an hour later than I hoped but still early enough that everyone was sleeping.
Stepping toward the car, I noticed the cats on full alert. Each black and white hair at attention. Backs crouched, bodies rigid and heads tilled down with eyes focused as a laser.
They’ve got some poor creature trapped.
Darn it when these things happen and I’m late.
I stopped and went toward their stares.
Oreo, the bigger of the feline beasts, darted toward an furry thing.
A mole. Or so I thought.
But no. On further inspection it was a mouse.
A little brown Stuart Little. Without clothes of course.
Ugh.
That mouse was good as eaten like a tater tot crispy golden brown out of the oven.
I pulled Oreo off the thing. Fished my keys out of my bag. Opened the door and pushed his protesting body inside.
Same with Daisy. Our other petite feline. In she went.
On my way to the car I checked on Stuart.
Actually first he was just standing there on the drive. Shaking uncontrollably, his little paws super-glued to the asphalt.
When I bent down to him, that’s when he scampered under this planter.
Little frighted booger.
You know. I couldn’t help but wonder why in December, when a mouse — maybe even a distant cousin of this fellow — was terrorizing my kitchen . . .
a.) my cats could care less.
b.) I tried to kill it with everything in my limited arsenal. Poison, sticky traps. Bribing the cats with a year’s worth of Fancy Feast.
And today, there was no way I could get in my car and drive to the pool and leave my cats batting this critter around like a shuttlecock.
Oh was a difference 20 feet makes. And being found inside the confines of my house.
Do you love a great mystery? One that leaves you guessing who done it?
Desired to Death is the story of Maggie True, an intelligent woman at midlife, who is left searching — just who is Maggie — after her son and daughter have left the nest. Though still crazy in love with Joe, her commercial pilot husband, and her best Labrador retriever Smythe . . . something is missing.
The phone’s ring awakens her in the middle of the night. A frightened call from a friend. A friend arrested for the murder of a young, sculpted trainer. A man with charms so potent that his power over women only seems to strengthen in death.
One of the pleasures of this online world is meeting wonderful, talented people. Author Julia Munroe Martin has been that for me. As I learned more about her life in small town Maine with MEH (My Engineer Husband) through her blog –- I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the novel that she had been writing under the pen name J. M. Maison.
The intriguing J. M. Maison.
That’s what I had the treat of doing recently. Reading Desired to Death and sitting down to chat over a virtual cup of coffee with the author.
How long have you been writing, Julia?
I’ve been a writer all my life. I have a journalism degree, and I worked as a technical writer for about ten years, then I went out on my own and became a freelance writer. But during all that time I was dabbling in fiction. I got more serious about fiction when my kids were young–so I’ve been writing fiction for about 20 years.
Is this your first novel?
No. I’ve written three middle grade novels (two were mysteries), two young readers, a picture book, a women’s fiction, and I’m currently in the final draft of an historical fantasy novel. DESIRED TO DEATH is the only one I’ve indie published. The others are “in the drawer,” as they say. Except for the one I’m currently writing! That one I’ll be shopping around to agents very soon.
Have you always been a fan of mysteries?
Probably only about a third of what I write is mystery. I’ve always been a fan, and I love all Agatha Christie books, grew up reading Nancy Drew then Perry Mason books, and now love the No.1 Ladies Detective Agency. I think I enjoy mysteries because they allow you to escape but also really give you things to think about in regard to human nature: why people do the terrible things they do. Writing about that dark side of human nature gives me a safe way to consider the truly dangerous things of life that scare me a lot. Also, I really like puzzles.
When did you come up with Maggie True?
I came up with Maggie True shortly after my son left for college (he’s now in medical school). I wanted to create a character who grappled with a lot of the feelings I was going through of sadness, loneliness, worthlessness, and I didn’t see a whole lot of characters or books out there that dealt with this rather invisible (and depressing) part of life — the empty nest. I also thought this character would be perfect at solving mysteries: lots of time on her hands, no one really notices her, and she’s developed all these “mom skills” that can help her figure out who done what!
Maggie faces many of the challenges that we all face when looking at mid-life, does that play into how the story evolved?
Yes, no question… it’s a very hard time of life and a serious time of life. I just read that the suicide rate is going up dramatically for people in this age range — and I’m not surprised. There’s a certain “outlived one’s usefulness” feeling about life at this age: your kids are more self sufficient, younger people are favored at work, you have more life behind you than in front of you, and perhaps especially as a woman, you become somewhat invisible, less exciting, and less important to society. It’s pretty sad, and it’s very hard…heaped on top of that, the economy is in a terrible place and many people lead “quiet lives of desperation,” as Thoreau said. It’s a hard time. I tend to be one of those people who tries to look on the positive side of life and try not to get too stressed out about it all, but it’s hard. Laughing, writing, and having a wonderful husband and family really helps. But it’s challenging, as you say.
It’s said that you should write what you know — how much are you like Maggie and how much of that is your life in Maine?
I would say that Maggie’s life in Maine is what is most similar about she and I. We both live in small, quiet towns. Many of our neighbors are retirees. We both have kids in college, and we both feel like the busier side of life is passing us by. We also both have wonderful long-term marriages. But there are many differences, too. Maggie is a lot more brave than I am and a whole lot more outgoing. Most of my time is spent at the dining room table with my own imagination. Maggie is out there rustling up adventure!
What was the most fun in bringing her to life?
Vicariously living my fantasy of being a detective (I’ve always wanted to be a spy or a P.I.!): trying out some of the fun (and dangerous!) things Maggie did — following people, snooping around, talking to a friend who’s a police officer, and imagining myself in dangerous situations! Driving around in my small white nondescript station wagon imagining Maggie’s reactions to things.
Is she always in the back of your mind?
Always. She and all my other characters are constantly jostling around back there in the depths somewhere, and I’m always thinking about stories revolving around them. You have no idea how loud my head is sometimes.
Do you talk with Maggie or wonder what would Maggie do in this situation?
Yes, constantly. I’ve been that way my whole life, though. I make up stories about everyone I’m around–like if I’m in a restaurant and I see a couple out for dinner who doesn’t look happy together, I’ve not only analyzed the situation but invented an life entire story about them. And I’m always, always, on the lookout for the next Maggie True adventure (all my friends know to watch out when I get my little notebook out!). Also, I’ve many times convinced my husband to follow a car, look for clues… although, believe me, he’s pretty nosy so it doesn’t take much convincing!
What about Joe — was a person (your husband) who was inspiration for Joe?
I admit it, my husband was the inspiration behind Joe. Joe has many of my own husband’s best qualities of kindness, sweetness, sense of humor, but Joe is also his own man. He’s more impatient and has more of a temper than my husband. He’s much more of an extrovert than my husband, he swears in a much more wholesome less creative way than my husband does, haha, and he’s also taller and more handsome (sorry, honey). But as an airline pilot he’s around MUCH less than my husband (who works about 5 minutes from home), which frees Maggie up to get into all kinds of trouble on her own!
Maggie has premonitions — and was visited by a good-looking younger man (A.J.) in a dream. That ever happened to you, premonitions or visitations?
I have never had that overt a premonition as Maggie has, but I have had dreams that seemed to come true, sensations, visions of sorts. I have twice had dreams that came true to a truly scary degree (both good), and — like Maggie — I often heed my intuition because it’s often right on the money. Merged with my vivid imagination, I see, feel, and sense a lot — both real and imaginary! But I’ve never dreamed of anyone like A.J. … I would’ve remembered that!
Without giving any secrets away what surprised you most about this story and the writing process?
What surprised me most about this story was how quickly it formed in my mind. I concocted the seed of the story during coffee with a friend, and then within about a day I had written a twenty page outline. What always surprises me about my writing process is how daunted I am at the beginning, unsure I’ll be able to write a word, and then within a relatively short time I have a first draft in front of me (for DESIRED TO DEATH, about 8 weeks). I have come to realize that this is my writing process: I have an idea in the back of my mind, then when I sit down to write, it’s a mad wild sprint. The current book I am editing/revising came together in about five weeks (after thinking about it for about six months). It’s an incredibly heady feeling, very exciting. I love the writing zone–I’d go so far to say it’s an addiction. And these days I can put a certain playlist on and force myself into the zone within a very few minutes.
And future plans for Maggie True?
Oh yes. Planning the next one right now. I have a thick, thick folder of more ideas. I plan to publish the next Maggie True mystery no later than the end of 2013!
Just as Maggie stumbled on to sleuthing as a mid-life focus, can you say the same about writing? Or has writing always been a passion of yours?
Writing has really always been a passion — I always kept a journal until college, I have always written something somehow as either a job or for fun or both, and I “think” writing — always looking for a story, always thinking what a great story something could be. I imagine you and I are much alike that way, Jamie. It’s a blessing and a curse at times. Sometimes I wish I could turn off the writer’s mind. Does that make sense?
How has being a Empty Nester affected your writing time?
I have so much more time to write (and do almost everything). I often will write (or do something writing related) twelve hours a day, seven days a week. I am single-minded these days about getting published because for a long time I put it second or third or fourth to everything else. I’m not going to lie, writing is a poor substitute for the mom years — “being mom” is hands down my favorite job EVER — but I am finding extreme satisfaction in my life right now as a writer. It’s not even about people reading what I’m writing, but more about the daily enjoyment I’m getting from doing something that I really, truly love so much!
Thanks so much Julia. And yes readers, she is every bit as delightful as her responses. I’m sure you’ll love Maggie as much as I do. Can’t wait for her next case.
Walking across the parking lot, I was on a mission to Dollar Tree. Five pairs of reading glasses for five dollars.
Then I got the insistent nudge to turn into Goodwill. I’ve been on the lookout for a small dining room set for a friend. So I thought my voice was telling me the perfect table was there waiting.
Got into Goodwill. Nope.
No small table and chairs. A quick glance at the skirts and I was heading to the door when I saw the bikes.
Someone stole my nine year old’s bike. I hadn’t wanted to replace it because we don’t have a garage and a new bike would just sit outside and rust.
Standing in a rack was a 20-inch boy’s bike with $8.99 on the seat.
Nine dollars for a bike. Macklemore was prepared to drop $20 on clothes.
Sold. The back tire seemed low but for nine dollars, how could I go wrong?
When I got home, a cut tire and inner tube was how things could go wrong.
But this was going to work. It was destined. The bike had called to me in the parking lot.
I asked my son, “maybe I should ask Rob Jones to come and help?” My son sort of freaked that I would ask for help but I’ve learned which neighbors are handy and which neighbors are like me. Not so much.
Rob came and laughed that my tool box was a zip-lock plastic gallon bag. I didn’t let that deter me. I was just happy I knew where my plastic zip-lock toolbox was.
And in no time flat, he got that tire off my bike.
He agreed that there was lots of wear left this in this spectacular $9 bike. But it was obvious that there would be no more wearing on it till I got a new tire and inner tube.
So that is what I did today.
This is how they sell tires now. Rolled up like a like rubber armadillo.
This wrapped around a rim? I had my doubts.
The dreaded inner tube. I have wrestled with these bad boys and my road bike.
As I started to put the armadillo and the inner tube together, my faith wavered.
Where is that Rob fellow now? Work?
Why is he at work when I need him to fix my tire?
But guess what?
I figured the darn thing out.
And got the wheel back on the frame.
Nine dollars for bike. Seventeen for tire and nine dollars for tube.
Thirty five dollars and my son has a bike this summer. A bike that I don’t have to cringe is outside every time a thunderstorm hits.
As I stood in the serpentine line of parents winding our way to the check-in spot at the office, I had the wonderful thought.
I forgot my camera.
Followed by.
I forgot my phone. With its camera.
You’d think a middle-aged crazy woman pumped up on Hormone Replacements would be never forget her camera for a moment such as this.
Yup.
Well. Shrugged my shoulders and reached out for the door as the nice man, who looked like he probably had his camera, held the door for me. Which I held for the next person.
Walking down the halls of the primary school — probably for the last time (okay it just hit me that I was walking the halls for the last time) — I made it to the library. And managed to find friends to ask if they would take a picture for me.
Thoughts?
I struggled with this. Why wasn’t I more emotional? I so loved seeing all those cute faces walking across the carpet. Wondering what path each of them will take in life.
Who will shoot straight like an arrow at their target?
Who will bloom late and flourish?
Who will fall between the cracks and wonder why they sat on the sidelines their entire life?
It’s funny. Some children will fulfill their potential and surprise no one — the I-always-knew-they-were-going-to-do-greats.
Then some will fulfill their potential and surprise everyone.
It’s those children I ache to see on down the road.
Which ones will be touched with magic and confound their teachers, their fellow students, their fellow students’ parents.
Who have the power to change things and don’t know it.
Or maybe they do.
It’s just everyone else who’s yet to see.
That makes me happy.
And the best quote of the day — and of my year — was one I read on my friend Jill Hill’s blog this morning. It sums up why I have no tears.
Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. Dr. Seuss.
Yes, I’m smiling for what has happened.
And for what is yet to be revealed.
What about you? Tears for big milestones or do you roll with the changes?
Rachel at Architecture of a Mom. (And she really is an architect as in — Mike Brady — only the coolest architect alive in the 70s.)
And who looks five sheets to the wind? Why didn’t I pick up that pair of sun glasses?
This is what the table holding the props for the fab Mirrasou photo looked like after the party.
Yes, the sight of Big Bird’s demise.
Actually, I think KC made some joke about Big Bird that I just stole — but obviously I was not in my right mind by the party’s end.
During our sessions, I did learn that that I need to concentrate more on Pinterest, Google + and my Facebook Page.
I guess that sent me leaping off the ledge.
Seriously, it was a fabulous day and I learned tons. Now that I’ve turned in my most recent project watch out. I’m going to be pinning the heck out of everything.
Ten years ago this October, I spent 10 days in Oklahoma City.
I was in an operating room witnessing my son’s birth.
After the first few tense, traumatic days — when it became clear that chances swung in our favor that we would take him home to Georgia — my husband flew home on Delta and I waited with Joe.
In Oklahoma City.
Until the intrastate adoption committee said we could also run to the airport and fly home.
I remember riding along some freeway, looking out across the vast, flat, stubby-tree landscape and seeing —
a monstrous, boiling cloud miles wide plowing through everything and everyone.
Of course, that day all was clear and bright. The tornado that swirled and churned was only in my imagination but I felt like it was as much a part of the landscape as the University of Oklahoma.
We had driven that day to Norman to kill time and poke around the OU football stadium.
For that is what I do when stressed to the max.
Go find something familiar like college football.
For when one thinks of Oklahoma, what jumps to mind?
The Sooners.
Well, the Sooners and tornadoes.
Tonight ten years later, I look at my Oklahoma Joe and am so very sad.
That was the year that my adorable cottage house would be perfect. The beds would be made every morning and dirty dishes never had time to rest in the kitchen sink.
I’d have a fabulous career. Law, international photographer, novelist. Something I would do fabulously well — effortlessly — making me independently wealthy.
Be married to an adorable man and have tons of adorable children who always kept their rooms clean. And though I showered them with everything imaginable, they would not become spoiled, self-centered brats — but turn into loving, altruistic self-actualized beings that floated through life.
I’ll stop now.
My head hurts.
Linking up with Finish the Sentence Friday and “When I was younger, I wanted to…”
When I was younger, I wanted to have my act together by age 37.
Growing up in the 60s, 70s and early 80s, the year 2000 was the mythical beacon.
The year I would turn 37 and surely have my act together.
Well, if you are halfway decent at math, you know by now, I’ve passed my pivotal age.
I’ve come to realize I’ll never have my act together but I’m okay with that.
Or maybe my definition of act together has changed. A lot.
My daughter is right there now. The dreaming stage. The stage when anything is possible.
I’m not cynical. Anything is possible with time, sacrifice, working hard, relationships.
It’s just time. There seemed so much of it 30 years ago.
There have moments — epiphanies — when I think “a ha” I need to do that this lifetime.
* Our family hiking the Grand Canyon together.
* Whale watching in Hawaii.
* The fam riding bikes in the Tuscan hills.
But those goals usually stay up in the heavens and never happen. Ever.
Linking up this week with Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop and the prompt 4.) Create a “May Bucket List”…what will you accomplish this month?
This May I hope to . . .
* Get my creaky triathlon butt moving again after a four year hiatus. Signed up for IronMay and will complete the 140 miles by May 31. Also will find money to sign up for the Tri to beat Cancer in August. That way there will be no turning back.
How I feel setting out on the bike.
* Go to my first blog conference. Bloggy Boot Camp in Charlotte this weekend. I’m looking forward to learning lots, meeting great folks and having a little time away from my dear ones. (There better not be any WSJ reporters lurking….)
* Write every day on my book. I already missed a day but have written 14 days. Let’s see if we can make it 30 days.
* Get some sun on my legs. PLEASE.
* Finish planting my garden. It’s pretty much done but I’m expecting some eggplant transplants I’ve ordered and going to replace some okra that looks pretty puny after this crazy heat we’ve had all of a sudden.
* Contact regional publications. I need to make the leap and have an article in a regional pub even if it means driving and knocking on some doors.
* Sleep.
I’ll stop there.
Need to save some time to keep the kids alive and the husband happy. If you know what I mean.
