What We're Writing @LucyBurdette

Tobermory by Colin, Wikipedia Commons

LUCY BURDETTE: I am stampeding up to the deadline for Key West mystery #11, still a book with no name. This book is very different from the other ten in that most of it takes place in Scotland rather than Key West. The great thing about this is that I've been able to relive our trip last summer, and take the characters to the most astonishing places. And the simple act of being somewhere else in my head has helped me to keep from melting down altogether during these dreary, unending pandemic times.

Glencoe, photo by Steve Callahan

The bad thing is this book makes me feel terribly homesick for Scotland, even though I was only there for a two week visit. The more I write, and read about the places we visited, the more I want to go back. Here's a map of the stunning little island called Iona, on which we only scratched the surface.

Photo by Jeff Chanton

Here's a snippet from Chapter Twenty-Six:

Vera led us on a path running south along the water until we reached a fork. We took the right turn that would cross the island. On either side were fenced-in areas of grass populated by grazing sheep. I stopped short, watching one sheep move across the grass on her front knees. Almost as if she was praying. The wonders of Scotland just kept coming. I took a short video in case Miss Gloria didn’t get to see this on the way to the abbey.
“This grassy plain topography is called a machair,” William told us. “It’s a low-lying area as you can see, and so in danger of flooding and erosion by sea level rise. If you keep going along the water, you’d reach the bay where St. Columba arrived in his coracle from Ireland to bring Christianity to the Scottish heathens.” He laughed. “Isn’t there always someone attempting to convert the heathens?”
“Coracle?” Nathan asked.
“A round boat made of wicker and bound with leather,” William told him. “He would have needed God on his side to make it across St. George’s channel.”
We trudged up a short hill, and then down the path to a stunning beach made entirely of pebbles. Before the beach on a grassy area, someone had built a labyrinth made of pinkish rocks. I paused to take a deep breath and freeze the moment in my mind, so I’d remember this astonishing view, and the feeling of sacred peace on the island. I didn’t seem to have the knack for tingling in thin places, but this island was special.
The four of us sat on the beach, sorting through the tumble of stones, and looking out across the water. Hard to imagine that thousands of miles away, these same waves lapped ashore on the Smathers and Higgs and Fort Zachary Taylor beaches in Key West. The same water and environmental threats and human foibles connected us from island to island across all that distance. A gust of wind whipped across the bay, and I leaned in to Nathan, as always appreciating his warm bulk. He helped me feel safe and grounded in so many ways.
Vera was making a small stack of smooth stones. “Sometimes you get lucky here and find pieces of green Iona marble,” she said.

“We should never have let you go on this trip by yourselves,” said William, after a period of silence. “I don’t know if I will ever forgive myself for putting you in danger. I knew something was wrong with this project, but I let you go without me anyway.”

And finally I'll leave you with the stunning cinnamon scones that I'm craving--I may need to step away from the computer and make a batch this afternoon. 

Where are you longing to be, these days when we are still mostly tethered close to home?

And ps, I'm absolutely certain that you know THE KEY LIME CRIME is in bookstores everywhere...and I am thrilled about the sales so far!

Screenshot of bestseller banner at Barnes and Noble!

I had a few truly priceless events, the first with my sister Susan Cerulean (I HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED THE SINGLE BIRD), moderated by our own fabulous Hallie Ephron. You can watch that here...

And if you missed all of the Reds with Barbara Peters at the Poisoned Pen Bookstore, you can watch that here...