What We're Writing: Sugar Plum Poisoned by Jenn McKinlay

Jenn McKinlay: I don't have any cover art to share and I don't think the book is even listed for sale or anything yet, so we are definitely in the it's still a twinkle in my eye phase of the writing process of my latest cupcake cozy -- Sugar Plum Poisoned. 

In the beginning of the year, I turned in a proposal for this 15th book in the series, it was approved, and we went to contract. I started writing, promptly decided I hated it somewhere around the fourth chapter, and rewrote a one page description of the book I wanted to write. I sent it in and my editor said, "Go for it."

Now if you know me, I'm a plotter, an outliner, a stick to the itinerary sort of writer. Yeah, well, that was chucked out the window on dark backroad and we are free falling, baby! I don't know who the killer is. I don't know what the weapon is. I don't know anything. It's terrifying.

For all you seat of the pants writers out there, I have one word: 

GAH!!!

That being said, this is the only way this particular book seems to want to be written. Maybe it's because it's my first Christmas based cupcake mystery, or perhaps it's because it's book 15 and the world is built so there isn't so much leg work involved. Of course, it could be that I'm just changing up my method to make it more interesting for myself. I hope it's not some inner pen monkey masochism that decided I needed to make my job harder because the writing has been going pretty well so far. Yeah, probably that's it. LOL.

Side note: We had a contest for the title and Sugar Plum Poisoned won (AWESOME!)! but now I have to admit, I had no idea that a sugar plum was actually a hard candy called a plum because of it's oval shape. Please tell me I'm not the only one. I always thought they were some sort of candied plums. Doh!

From: https://truetreatscandy.com/sugar-plum-what-plum/

In essence, SUGAR PLUMS are sugar coated seeds or nuts first made in the 17th century. They were made by skilled craftsmen who apprenticed for years, absorbing the nuances of a trade that makes Julia Child look like a scullery maid in comparison. First, they coated seeds or nuts with gum 

Arabic, then put them in a “balancing pan,” suspended over a large, low fire, and rolled them in sugar syrup. To keep the coating even and the sugar from crystalizing, they kept the seeds and nuts in constant motion, stirring them with one hand and moving the pan with the other. They controlled the temperature of the heat by controlling the intensity of the fire.

A depiction of the famous Sugar Plum Fairy.

Once the candy was coated, the confectioner set it aside where it dried for a day or two, then began the process again, stirring and moving, adding layer upon layer over a period of weeks. In the last stage, the sugar coating smooth as glass, he often added a flourish of color, mulberry juice or cochineal for red, indigo stone for blue, spinach for green and saffron for yellow.

How about it, Reds and Readers? Who knew what a sugar plum was? 

Here's the opener to Sugar Plum Poisoned. We'll see if it stays the same. 

“Oh…wow,” Angie Harper said. She was perched on a stool in the kitchen of the bakery Fairy Tale Cupcakes, which she owned with her husband, Tate Harper, and best friend Melanie DeLaura.

     Mel blew the bangs of her short-cropped blonde hair out of her eyes and glanced at her friend across the steel work table. “What’s up?”

     “A VIP is coming to Scottsdale,” Angie said. She wiggled on her chair, an indication of her excitement.

     “And…” Mel twisted the end of the piping bag full of rum flavored frosting before she lowered it to the top of an egg nog flavored cupcake, which she decorated with a fat dollop of frosting. Angie didn’t answer so Mel glanced back up to find her friend staring at her with wide eyes.

     Mel lowered the pastry bag. “Okay, you have my full attention. Or you will as soon as you garnish that cupcake.”

     “Oh, right!” Angie dusted a little bit of nutmeg onto the fresh frosting. She then turned her phone so that Mel could see the display.

     It showed a picture of a woman in a sequined, hot pink, micro-mini dress, over the knee white leather stiletto boots, and a blonde head of hair that was a mass of curls that reached her lower back. She was unmistakable. Shelby Vaughn.

     “Oh,” Mel said. She tried to say it without inflection. She and Angie had a complicated history with Shelby in that Angie loved her and Mel not so much.

     “She’s in residence at the Grande Hotel for the entire holiday season,” Angie said. “And, get this, she wants us to cater her VIP events.”

     “Really.” Again, Mel strove to keep her voice inflection free. It didn’t work.

     “I know you don’t like her,” Angie said.

     “I don’t know her,” Mel protested. “She’s from your life with Roach, of which, Tate and I were not included.”

     Angie nodded. “I know, those were some crazy days, but I really like Shelby, and when you get to know her, I’m sure you will, too.”

     Mel stared at her friend. Before marrying their mutual childhood best friend, Tate, Angie had dated a rock and roll drummer named Roach who played in a band called The Sewers. It had been a chaotic few months with Angie traveling back and forth from Los Angeles to Scottsdale and then going on tour with the band for brief stints. She had met a lot of famous people, one of which was Shelby Vaughn, who had been the opening act for The Sewers that summer.

     Mel had no idea how Tate was going to handle Angie’s rock and roll days coming back into their life and she wondered if she should point that out to Angie or let the married couple deal with it on their own. Being best friends with Tate Harper and Angie DeLaura-now-Harper since they were all in the sixth grade made Mel’s life a teeny bit complicated when things like this cropped up. Sort of like when Tate almost married Christie Stevens. During that drama fest, Mel had felt her best course of action was to keep her mouth shut. She suspected this was exactly what she should do right now, consequently, she pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything.

     “Um, Mel, we have a situation out here,” Marty Zelaznik, their octogenarian counter help, poked his bald head around the swinging door which opened to the front of the bakery.

     Mel gently put her pastry bag down.

     “What sort of situation?” Mel asked.

     “A limousine has pulled up outside,” Marty said. “A pink one.”
     “Ah!” Angie hopped off her stool. “That has to be Shelby.”

     She dashed toward the door, giving Marty just enough time to get back before she plowed into him.

     Marty grabbed the still swinging door and held it open. He glanced at Mel and asked, “Who is Shelby?”

     “Trouble,” Mel said. “I think she’s a whole lot of trouble.”