What We're Writing @LucyBurdette

LUCY BURDETTE: What I’m really writing today is the ending of book 15. For obvious reasons, I can’t share that—huge spoilers, and besides, it isn’t finished. Here instead is a conundrum I tackled in A POISONOUS PALATE.

A week ago, I told you about how the book began with an e-mail from a reader describing the time she spent on Big Pine Key in the 70s. I knew that I wanted to include that history in the book, but how? One way would be for Hayley Snow to interview people who were there at the time who could describe what happened. But what if their memories were poor? What if they were not telling the truth? Readers would not get enough information to be able to understand the mystery and guess at the puzzle. Worst of all, wouldn’t a series of interviews be boring? In the end, I chose to include snippets from the past from Catherine’s point of view. She was there, after all.

But what were these snippets exactly? It was easier to say what they were not: not a diary, not flashbacks, and not another point of view in the present time. I decided to just write, and not worry too much about what these sections would be called. When I sent the draft into the publisher and got notes back from my excellent editor, she commented that weaving in the 1978 sections borrowed a tool seen more often in psychological suspense than cozy mystery. But she also thought I used it to good effect. That was all I needed to forge ahead. Below I share with you the first historical snippet from 1978.

You really get to know someone living with them in a tent. I hadn’t completely thought it through when Veronica proposed the road trip. But living with my mother was a nightmare, and my job was a dead end, and so was my boyfriend. Michigan in January is frigid, just as he accused me of being. 

The first couple of weeks we skated on the surface, singing along with my VHS tapes. David Bowie, Pink Floyd, the Rolling Stones, those were my favorites. She leaned toward Elton John, the Eagles, the Bee Gees. We both loved Queen. Ronnie had brought a stash of killer weed and we slept in rest stops when we got tired. She took the front seat and I took the back, being seven inches taller.  And a good 25 pounds heavier. Ronnie had wavy blonde hair that I would’ve killed for, but she said I had the long legs that she always wanted. 

The solenoid and then the water pump burned out somewhere around North Carolina, so we found a mechanic and spent two nights in a motel while the car was repaired. A waitress at the drug store counter in the little town nearby noticed we were shivering and wondered why we didn’t go to the Florida Keys. She said her friend’s sister had spent last winter there and couldn’t say enough about how friendly everyone was—and the weather. She leaned her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hand. “Oh, the weather. I’d kill to spend the winter down there.”

Once we’d picked up the car and spent pretty much all the money we came with on repairs, we figured why not. We could find some kind of work. If it was warm, we could stay in the tent, and it wouldn’t cost a penny. Neither one of us was ready to go back home. Although three weeks after we’d crossed the Michigan state line into Ohio, and then on through West Virginia and Virginia into North Carolina, neither one of us had talked about what we were running from.

Readers, how do you feel about the past being woven into the present mystery? 

A POISONOUS PALATE is available now!