What We're Writing--Are We Quirky Enough?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I've just been working on a fun little Get To Know the Author post for our JRW friend Dru Ann Love's Dru's Book Musings (which will post May 18th, so keep an eye out!) One of the questions was, "What's the quirkiest quirk one of your characters has?"

Well, this one stumped me. I couldn't think of a single thing. My characters have "traits," I suppose, physical details that we identify with them. Duncan is tall and has a habit of running a hand through his hair when he's thinking, but that's not really a quirk, is it? In the earlier books he drives an old rattletrap MG Midget, which he loves, but that's a thing, unless driving an old car is a quirk? 

Gemma loves her piano and her Clarice Cliff teapot, but those are personal preferences.  (And who has time for quirks with three kids AND a demanding job??)

Clarice Cliff's Moonlight pattern

Doug pushes his round wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose. Melody has a thing for cherry-red coats. I'm not seeing any real Sherlockian eccentricities here; no pipe smoking or ten percent solution or deerstalker hats (although I'm not sure which, if any, of these actually appear in the canon.) There are no Poirot-mustaches, no Wolfe-ian orchid growing, no only-a-toothbrush Reacherisms in my books.

It did occur to me that I have created a possibly quirky character in the book in progress, and also that we haven't yet had a snippet from Duncan's point of view. Here, we have our first glimpse of the Kincaid/James's new nanny:

It was nearly noon by the time Duncan Kincaid had a moment to follow through on Gemma’s request, Monday mornings being what they were in the CID room in Holborn Police Station. But when he’d worked through the weekend’s case log with the team, he slipped into his office and pulled up Bodie Murphy’s text thread on his mobile.

Gemma tied up at work, may be late, he typed. I should get home, but can you hold the fort just in case?

Their new nanny had been recommended to them by their friend Destiny Howard, who worked in Wardrobe at the Royal Opera in Covent Garden. Bodie worked in costume as well, but she was freelance and floated between the opera companies and West End theatres. She’d needed to supplement her income, and unless she was working a performance, could usually manage to adjust her schedule to the children’s out of school hours.

“Don’t be put off by the, um, look,” Destiny had said before they’d interviewed Bodie. “She’s a love and very dependable. And mum likes her. She’s helped out with the costumes for Carnival.”

Praise from Betty Howard was the gold standard in the Kincaid/James household. Betty’s son Wesley had helped out with the children since they’d first moved to Notting Hill, but Wes was busy with his own life these days, finishing a business course at college and doing freelance photography.

The artistic gifts ran in the family. Betty Howard, a talented seamstress who could turn her needle to anything from millenary to soft furnishings, had for many years made stunning costumes for Notting Hill Carnival. If Bodie Murphy’s work had been up to her standards, it was indeed quite the compliment.

Kincaid had been glad of Destiny’s forewarning, however, when Bodie Murphy had rung the bell of their Notting Hill house a few days later. The young woman on their doorstep had short, bright blue hair, milk-pale skin, and multiple piercings in her ears, eyebrows, and nose. She wore a black hoodie over a black mini-skirt, fishnet tights, and Doc Marten’s.

But when she’d held out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Bodie,” her round face splitting into a beaming smile, Kincaid had been instantly charmed—as had Gemma and, more importantly, the children.

So, maybe Bodie is a little quirky, at least in her sartorial choices.

Readers, how do you feel about quirks? How would you define them? And do you have favorite quirky characters? Am I missing the boat by NOT giving my characters obvious quirks?

 P.S. (I could get in some serious trouble looking at the Clarice Cliff pottery for sale... someone take away my credit card!!!!)

What We're Writing: Lucy's Thinking About Mothers

LUCY BURDETTE: since Mother’s Day is coming up soon, I thought I’d write about one of my favorite topics, the mother figures in Hayley Snow’s life. She has quite a few of them by this point in the series! She has developed a wonderful relationship with her own mother, and a good solid relationship with her stepmother, and she is even on steady ground with her mother-in-law. (Not an easy feat!) And of course everyone’s favorite mother-character, Miss Gloria, is planted firmly in Hayley’s world.

Hayley’s mom makes her first appearance in the second installment of the series, DEATH IN FOUR COURSES. Hayley is attending the Key West Loves Literature conference in this book—an event that’s fraught because she is dying to become a food writer and critic of note, and all her foodie idols are in attendance. She’s made what she begins to worry is a big mistake: invited her mother to come with her. Janet Snow is a foodie too, but she lacks confidence and direction and focuses her anxiety on her daughter. This scene takes place during the conference’s opening remarks:

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Key West to listen to me,” Dustin was saying from the stage. “So I am thrilled to introduce our keynote speaker, a man who truly needs no introduction.”

“But you’ll give one anyway,” I muttered.

My mother took my hand and pulled it onto her lap. “Oh, sweetie. Let him have his moment.”

She was right—as usual. But still I rolled my eyes and squeezed her fingers back a little harder than I meant to.

“Jonah Barrows has had four major culinary careers in the time most of us have only managed one. His mother once reported that he had a highly sensitive palate right out of the womb—he would only suckle organic goat’s milk.”

The audience tittered. How completely embarrassing, the kind of thing a mother might say. Mine, in fact, was chuckling loudly. “Remember when you’d only eat strained carrots and your skin turned yellow from too much carotene?”

“Mom, stop,” I hissed.

At this point in my current WIP, Key West food critic mystery #15, Hayley’s relationship with her mom has evolved into something comfortable and healthy. They share a lot in common, but not in a competitive way. Here’s a little snippet that I hope shows a bit of that. The two women were both passengers on the boat that blew up off Mallory Square in the book’s opening:

The ringing came from the landline that Nathan suggested we keep in case the cell towers went down someday. He always wanted to be prepared for future disaster. I snatched up the receiver. My mother’s number scrolled over the small screen, and I punched accept.

“Are you OK?” I asked. At the same time, she said, “how do you feel?” We both laughed.

“Shocked,” she said, “horrified. Disappointed but grateful. I’m physically fine and Sam is too.” She lowered her voice as if someone would listen in. “The cops were here. Asking all kinds of questions. I get the feeling they think we are at the center of what might have been the crime of the year in Key West.” 

“Same,” I said. “I got the bigwigs, my husband, the chief, and Steve Torrence. Looking back, do you think you saw anybody doing anything suspicious?”

“I was so focused on getting the food out and making sure everyone was having a lovely time with something to nibble on and full champagne glasses. I wasn’t watching for criminals.” Her voice sounded sad. This promised to be a showcase for her business as well as my ezine.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m sorry. It was going to be such a lovely party. Plus, you’ve lost a lot of your catering equipment.”

“Insurance will cover it,” she said. “We’re alive and well, that’s all that matters. Did you come up with any leads for them?”

“I mentioned that there were a lot of people from the local food world, and that some of them would not have been happy about my reviews. Nathan made fun of that, and we had a little mini spat.”

“Tension is almost inevitable in a crisis,” she said. “He adores you and he respects what you do. But he feels responsible for a lot of trouble right now, and I know he worries about all of us.” She paused, and I could hear the click of her fingernail on her phone. “I wonder if it would be worth us doing some informal interviews with some folks in the foodie world. People that the police might not necessarily reach out to. Even if they did, they might not ask the right questions because they can never truly understand what drives our passion.”

Lucy again. I adore having had the chance to write about the relationship of Hayley and Janet, to observe it grow and mature. I prefer reading series to standalones because I love following the character development that occurs in the best of these. How about you Reds, series or standalones?

PS: If you haven't yet joined the Jungle Reds private Facebook group called Reds and Readers—launched January 1st—there are live chats, giveaways, and so much more! Join now so you don’t miss out... Leave a comment over at Reds and Readers to be entered in the drawing for DEATH IN FOUR COURSES.

Rhys is enjoying the south of France.

 RHYS BOWEN:  I believe I've shared the beginning of my latest opus, called (for now) Mrs. Endicott's Excellent Adventure.  It's about a respectable middle aged woman whose life is turned upside down when her husband says he wants a divorce to marry a younger woman.  He expects her to go away quietly, live in a cottage with knitting and cats. She surprises him by taking his beloved Bentley and setting off for the south of France, a place she had loved as a girl but never been back to since. (Lionel hates abroad. He's says its full of garlic and flies.)

She doesn't go alone. The bossy elderly spinster who runs the village charities appears at her door and begs to come with her. She only has months to live and longs to see the blue Mediterranean. Ellie can't say no. Then she rescues her cleaning lady from an abusive husband, persuading her to come too. The three of them set out on the adventure winding up in a small seaside town near Marseille.

I know that whole coast well. I've rented an apartment twice in the area near Nice. We've driven all along the coast and the scenery is absolutely amazing. I'm basing this book on the town of Cassis, as it would have been before tourism hit--a small harbor, some pastel houses. What I love about writing this book is that I can be there, all day, at my computer. I smell the flowers and the salt air of the sea. I watch the yachts passing and taste the delicious food.

The piece I am sharing is after the ladies have moved in to a villa on a hilltop (how they get this is a part of the plot so you just have to know they are there).

One morning She came upon Dora, sitting on the terrace, staring out to sea. At first she thought Dora was lost in contemplation but then noticed one hand was on her wrist. She was taking her pulse.

                “Are you in pain?” she asked, going over to sit beside her.

                Dora looked up, startled at being interrupted from her reverie. “Oh no. No pain. It’s my heart, you see. Congestive heart failure. It’s funny but for a while I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be dead by now. All the excitement of coming here, finding this place. I’d really forgotten. And it was only now that I noticed how quickly I became out of breath and how weak my pulse had become.

“Should we take you to a doctor?” Ellie asked in concern.

Dora shook her head. “Oh no, my dear. Doctors can’t do anything. One day it will just stop beating and that will be that. It shouldn’t be a messy death for you.”

Ellie looked at her with tenderness. “Are you afraid to die?”

“Afraid?” Dora shook her head fiercely. “No, I’m not afraid. Only annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” Ellie had to smile.

“Yes, at all the things I never managed to do. I never climbed the Himalayas. I never rode with the Bedouins across the desert. I never wrote a novel or found a drug that might cure cancer. I leave no legacy, no proof that I was ever here.”

“I’m sure you were missed in the village,” Ellie said kindly.

“Missed, yes. But not beloved. That fussy old woman. That bossy old woman. That’s the height of my achievement in life, I suppose. Properly ironed altar cloths and perfect flowers for the church. They’ll miss the flowers, but not me.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ellie said. “Let’s just see if we can keep you around a little longer, eh? Buck you up with some good food.”

Dora smiled at her. “You’ve been a good friend, Ellie. One of the only true friends I’ve had. I’ll be sorry to leave this place.” She turned away, staring out to sea again. Today the Mediterranean sparkled under a cloudless sky. A sleek yacht passed, far out to sea. The breeze was scented with blossom.

This should be a book about a woman finding a whole new life and blossoming as a person. The only complication is that they arrive in this little town at the end of 1938. Their world is about to change and how they handle it becomes a main part of the story.

ONe of my great pleasures when I read is to be taken to another time and place, to savor the smells and tastes. This is why I loved Tony Hillerman. I love Kate Morton, Louise Penny, Cara Black and my fellow Reds because I can go to London or Paris or Ireland or Key West or freeze in Upstate New York

So what about you? Do you love to travel vicariously when you read? Favorite authors who take you somewhere?