What We're Writing--Debs is Seasonally Confused

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I am happy to report that I am at last making some progress on Kincaid/James #20, as I am creeping up on 50,000 words, which should be at least half a book (I tend to write long--otherwise I would say MORE than half a book.)

Partly, this is because, after my back surgery in the summer, I am finally able to sit at my desk for a decent amount of time as long as I remember to take breaks at least every half hour. I never thought I would be so thankful for sitting, something I took so for granted! (A little aside here--why did no one, not the surgeon, not PT, suggest that I try a gel pad? It just occurred to me one day, so I looked online, and yes you can get just a simple gel chair pad for about $30! This has made so much difference, I can't tell you!)  

And partly my progress is due to our Hank and Roberta helping me stay focused and accountable for what I accomplish every day. (See our recent post on focus here.)

But I am, however, suffering from a case of seasonal disfunction! I know this must happen to most writers, even if they write books set where they live, unless, or course, they write entire novels in two to three months (which some among us do!) and they write them in the appropriate season! 

My book takes place in London in mid-April, and I am constantly reminding myself to put in seasonal cues! But which ones? What exactly is blooming in London in mid-April? What plants will you find in the garden center (a scene I am working on now!) This is one of the reasons I keep past issues of magazines like the UK edition of Country Living--so helpful. And, fortunately, spring in the south of England is not that different from spring in north Texas. Although London is much farther north, the lovely jet stream keeps it temperate--in fact, we are more prone to really hard freezes here in north Texas. (The recent snow in London was quite bizarre for this time of year!)

So while the leaves are falling in my back garden, I'm imagining fruit trees in bloom (are the ornamental cherries finished? Is it too early for wisteria?) and the trees cloaked in verdant spring green.

While I don't have anything particularly spring-y to share, I thought you might enjoy meeting a character I really like. She's not quite a new character, as some of you may remember her as the uniformed constable Kincaid encounters in Soho Square in A KILLING OF INNOCENTS. She has now been promoted to detective constable and is part of Gemma's team in Gemma's new posting.

Before leaving for Warwick Avenue, Emily Hawkins had taken a moment to freshen up in the ladies’ toilet at the station. Hair pulled back into a neat knot at the nape of her neck, but still ginger, unfortunately. Makeup, minimal. With her milk-pale complexion, she looked like a clown if she wore more than a dab.

What was appropriate dress for an acting family liaison officer? That hadn’t been covered in the training course. As if deciding what was appropriate attire for a newly promoted detective constable hadn’t been challenging enough. In plain clothes for the first time with her promotion to CID, she hadn’t wanted to go full-on trouser suits, afraid she’d look like she was aping the senior ranking female officers like DI James—and she’d known her mates still in uniform would be the first to take the piss. But neither was she doing the telly detective look. It seemed like all the women in the cop shows wore jeans, t-shirts, and leather jackets. Maybe you could get away with that if you were undercover, but she’d just look a prat, and would lose any bit of authority in the bargain.

Today, at least, she was glad of her choices—chocolate trousers, smart oatmeal-colored blazer, a pale blue silk t-shirt. Presentable but not too starchy, or so she hoped.

Now, having found a spot to park the pool car she’d driven from the station, she climbed out, gave her jacket one last tug, and walked back towards the address she’d passed, trying not to feel intimidated by the posh terraced houses. Money would do nothing to alleviate grief, she reminded herself as she descended to the basement flat.

Fellow REDS, do you struggle with writing out of season? And readers, how much do you notice the seasonal cues in books?