DEAR LIZZIE

Lizzie Borden… Dog Lover?

By Christine Verstraete

Welcome to another stop on the book release blog tour for Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter! ** Follow the blog tour and be sure to get your copy of Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter in print and Kindle Sept. 13! **

Whatever you think you know about Lizzie Borden—spinster, “plain old maid” as one newspaper called her, Sunday School teacher, accused killer—she also was a dog lover.

Lizzie went on to live a quiet life after she was found not guilty on June 20, 1893, of killing her father, Andrew Borden, and her stepmother, Abby Durfee Borden, on August 4, 1892. She remained in her hometown of Fall River, Massachusetts, and bought a large Victorian house she named “Maplecroft” up on “The Hill” where the better-off lived.

Some say she always envied how others lived and used her ill-gotten gains to get what she always wanted. There is no proof, of course, to the rumors, or even that she was even actually guilty of the crimes.

Think what you want, but whatever can be said of Lizzie Borden, she loved dogs. And as the old saying goes, anyone who loves dogs and children can’t be all bad.

Settled into her new, much nicer and more modern home, (gas lights and indoor plumbing!), Lizzie went on to own three Boston Terriers. However, if we add a moment of psychoanalysis, was owning dogs, especially a certain breed, another way that Lizzie could prove her place in society? During the Victorian age in England, little “lap dogs” were a sign of status, according to Victoriana.com. (http://www.victoriana.com/VictorianPeriod/victorian-dogs.html).

Boston Terriers originated in Boston (hence the name) and soon became so popular that a American Bull Terrier Club was formed. By the end of 1910, the dog was one of the most popular breeds in the US. (http://www.dog-breeds-explorer.com/boston-terrier.html)

Still, she apparently loved animals enough that following her death on June 1, 1927, her will included a bequest of $30,000 and her stock shares in the Stevens Manufacturing Company to the Animal Rescue League of Fall River. The facility, now the Faxon Animal Care and Adoption Center, continues to receive a small amount (about $5-$6,000) annually, the Chicago Tribune reported in 2014. She also provided funds for other animals. See http://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/pets/ct-pets-lizzie-0930-20141001-story.html.

The center also cared for her dogs after her death. They are buried at the Pine Ridge Pet Cemetery in Dedham, Mass., which dates back to the 1900s. They are buried by a gravestone that is a mini replica of the Borden family monument in the Oak Grove Cemetery. (See Roadside America - http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/11265).

About Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter:

Every family has its secrets… 
   One hot August morning in 1892, Lizzie Borden picked up an axe and murdered her father and stepmother. Newspapers claim she did it for the oldest of reasons: family conflicts, jealousy, and greed. But what if her parents were already dead? What if Lizzie slaughtered them because they’d become zombies?

   Thrust into a horrific world where the walking dead are part of a shocking conspiracy to infect not only Fall River, Massachusetts, but also the world beyond, Lizzie battles to protect her sister, Emma, and her hometown from nightmarish ghouls and the evil forces controlling them. 

BUY: http://getbook.at/LizzieBordenZombieHunter

Add it on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31553183-lizzie-borden-zombie-hunter

Website: http://cverstraete.com - Blog: http://girlzombieauthors.blogspot.com

*** Yes, there is a contest to win 1 of 10 Kindle copies (ends 9/14.). Entrants MUST enter an email as a blog comment or on the rafflecopter to be sent a gift copy if they win. Sorry, no time to hunt you down. No email, no chance to win.  ** And please, review it on Goodreads and Amazon. **

Think you know Lizzie Borden? Read on! The blog tour schedule is:

Mon. Sept 5 - GirlZombieAuthors – Introduction – A Little About Lizzie
Tues. Sept. 6 - Jaime Johnesee blog – 12 Questions for Lizzie Borden
Weds. Sept. 7 - Jean Rabe's blog – Lizzie Borden… Dog Lover?

Thurs. Sept. 8 - AF Stewart blog interview

Fri. Sept.  9 - Haunt Jaunts blog – More Lizzie

Sat. Sept. 10 – Stephen D. Sullivan blog  - Lizzie Films

Sun. Sept. 11 - GirlZombieAuthors recap

Camille Minichino blog  - Why oh why zombies?

Mon. Sept. 12 - Horror Maiden's Book Reviews

***Tues. Sept. 13 - RELEASE DAY!!!

Zombies and Toys Review!

    Join the FB Release Party - prizes, guest authors, zombie fun!! (See info posted on my Facebook page and website or the GirlZombieAuthors blog.)

Weds. Sept. 14 - Lizzie as a Zombie Hunter - Chapter Break Book Blog

* This isn't the end! Get your copy. Share a review. And come back to the GirlZombieAuthors blog or the author website for info on another blog tour starting Sept. 26 with Bewitching Book Tours.

Finding a Character For My Next Novel

“Nobody talks to me,” the old man said.

I was visiting my father-in-law at a retirement complex, and I was off the lobby, editing a novel on my laptop. It had been a quiet corner; no one had pestered me. Though I did interrupt my work to pet the various dogs that people walked out the back door.

“Nobody,” he said.

He folded himself into a nearby chair and proceeded to pester me.

Incessantly pester me.

I saved my work and figured I’d give him a handful of minutes and then he’d nod off, as men with as many lines on their face as old tree bark tend to do. Except he didn’t nod off. He talked and talked and talked. I’d heard about the guy from my husband, who had taken his dad to lunch. I had stayed behind both to work and to give Bruce some time alone with his dad.

But this ancient dude—Mark—wouldn’t leave me alone. I moved my computer to another room, and he followed me. I went upstairs to the “library” and hooked my computer up to an outlet. He found me there several minutes later.

I saved my work and let him talk.

“I get lonely,” he said. “Nobody’ll talk to me.” He went on to tell me that he’d given his car to his grandson, and that said grandson would be picking him up in the morning to drive him to a funeral.

I learned he had two loves in his life. A wife who’d died many years ago, and a girlfriend he met at the retirement center and wished he would have married. She’d died several months back. He carried an eight by ten picture of her in a tote bag to show people. He missed them both, yet he counted himself lucky and blessed to have known and loved these two women. A few days ago…the girlfriend would have been eighty-eight; he got his grandson to take him to the cemetery so he could put a dozen roses on her grave.

He worked as a welder with my father-in-law, traced their association back more than sixty hears, recalled when my father-in-law took a swing at him ‘cause he was wearing a Kennedy for President button. Yet he’s not a Democrat anymore. Not really a Republican. Doesn’t trust Hillary. Doesn’t like Trump. Would’ve voted for Cruz…Biden in a pinch. Figured Sarah Palin would have made a “helluva” president. Smart and pretty; someone to pay attention to.

I learned he liked mystery books. We enjoyed the same authors…J.A. Jance, Stuart Woods, Lee Goldberg, and Robert Crais. He said he was particularly fond of authors that only hinted at bedroom scenes, leaving it to the imagination rather than blatantly describing sex acts; he said the better authors could tease you. I promised the next time Bruce came to visit his dad, I’d pass along some of the mysteries I was done with.

He asked what kind of music I liked. I said classical and country. He serenaded me with a few moldy oldies I’d not heard before, then ended it with Good Ol Rocky Top, which I had heard of. His voice wasn’t bad.

I eventually escaped, but not before he became winded and happy. He still wasn’t ready to nod off.

“Thanks for talking to me,” he said.

It wasn’t so much he needed someone to talk to. It’s that he needed someone to listen.

I think I’ll find a way to slip him into my next murder mystery. I've got just the spot for him in sleepy Spencer County, Indiana, someone for my sheriff to interact with. I think I'll put him in the opening scene...and no, not as the victim.

Weapon of Choice? A Silver Falchion!

I only had time for one convention this August, so I picked Killer Nashville over Gen Con. I write mysteries now, and so it seemed a most logical choice. Gee, I love this convention.

Don Bingle, my co-author on The Love-Haight Casefiles, was gracious enough to attend with me. Our book was up for a few awards. And--wow--we won three.

Three Silver Falchion Awards...Best Fantasy (peer voted), Best Urban Fantasy (judges award) and Best Multi-Genre (judges award).

Three days later and I'm still floating. How awesome is that? How friggin' awesome is that? 

Gee, I love this convention.

But honestly, I love it for the people. They have incredible author guests. This year Janet Evanovich. Hey, Beth Vaughan...I got my picture taken with JANET EVANOVICH. Kevin O'Brien, who was soooooo gracious and who presented us with one of our awards. William Kent Krueger, a joy to sit and chat with. I met the awesome and delightful Anne Perry and chatted with Glenn Meade, who wrote one of my favorite military books--Snow Wolf. Robert Randisi was beyond belief...he's written more than 700 novels. And I grabbed pieces of author Jaden Terrell's time. I'm gonna finish her book, River of Glass, tonight. Her book sends shivers, beautifully written. I started it yesterday and had to set it in another room so I would work today.

I like the South, the feel of it, the way complete strangers stop and wish you a good day...and sound like they really mean it. I like the music. No, I LOVE the music. There was a great band at the awards dinner, playing a mix of 70s and 80s rock. Joy to the World, It'd been a long time since I heard Jermiah...he really was a good friend of mine...and I danced to a Billy Joel tune with a retired policeman. The saxophone player was brilliant.

What I like most about the convention is the opportunity to chat with a variety of professionals...editors, agents, social media gurus, booksellers, publishers, and fellow writers. It's not a competitve atmosphere. Everyone tries to help each other. So, yeah, I recommend the convention if you write mysteries. Conversely, I touted Gen Con's Writer's Symposium to attendees who specialize in fantasy and science fiction. So...Marc...you might be seeing some new faces in your audience.

I spent more than an hour with an agent--who wasn't at all interested in the actiony stuff I write--but who talked about the business, rewrote my query letter, gave me all sorts of tips and insights...and who I just had fun chatting with. She sought me and Don out later to chat some more. 

I got lots of good information about social media, promotions, and on and on. Yeah, I been in the business a while, 35 novels to my credit and more short stories than I care to count, but I learn something at every writing convention I attend. I learned a lot at this one.

Clay Stafford and his folks put on a fine convention.

I intend to be at next year's Killer Nashville. I love the South and the music, the people. My husband comes along so he can venture down to Broadway and visit all the honky tonks.

It's a great way to spend vacation days.

The three Silver Falchions with Don this go-round was that proverbial icing on the cake. It was really, really, really tasty icing.

  

THIS AMAZING WOMAN

I am both exhausted and energized, coming off the spectacular Killer Nashville mystery writer's convention. Cons always leave me that way. I'll have another blog tomorrow where I talk about some great things that happened there to me and my buddy Don Bingle, but I had to post a few snippets about something else first...get it out of my system, ya know. I feel compelled to share.

I met this AMAZING WOMAN. 

I got to spend some time with Janet Evanovich and Anne Perry...and they're amazing novelists. I chatted with Kevin O'Brien, Robert Randisi, Charles Todd, and William Kent Krueger...also amazing novelists. I bought a book from the convention bookstore of each of those author's works. All right, full disclosure, in some cases I bought two. That's where I spent all my convention money...in the bookstore. Not that I needed more books, but I needed those books from those authors. I also spent some time with Glenn Meade, an author from Ireland who wrote one of my favorite military books ever: Snow Wolf. And Beth Terrell (known as author Jaden Terrell) managed to find snippets of time to chat despite her ultra-busy schedule. I picked up her most recent book, River of Glass, and read it until I fell asleep last night. AWESOME. Go buy this book, y'all. It is seriously good.

Back to my headline...this amazing woman.

I sat in the hotel atrium early one morning, scribbling notes for a story, when this lanky woman with curly gray-white hair faintly streaked in places with blue and green (all of it looking like a beautiful water color painting) asked if she could join me. I like to talk to strangers, so of course I agreed. And soon I discovered she was AMAZING and I was blessed to have crossed her path. We reconnected throughout the convention, and each time I found her even more amazing. Okay, I'm being redundant...but the word fits her.

71 years old, she'd completed her first mystery novel, and an agent at the convention asked to see the entire manuscript. This is a big deal, getting a request for an entire manuscript. Her tale is set in Africa and has a shaman as the main character...she told me about the characters and the story, and I was hooked. I asked her: "Why Africa?"

My breakfast companion was a retired art history professor from New England, with multiple Masters and a PhD, with impressive nonfiction credits...naturally books about art history.

"I love elephants," she said, as if that explained everything. "I just love elephants." Then after we filled our plates with scrambled eggs and bacon, she told me about her volunteer work at nature preserves in South Africa. Finished with the academic world, she wanted to see the elephants up close. She slept on the hard ground in the open for weeks at a time, labored to maintain waterholes for baby elephants, and then later worked with monkeys and lions. She's had lions walk at her side--not tame ones, sit on her feet, and rub against her legs. She was sometimes frightened, but always in awe.

It's expensive volunteering, she said, the plane fare and occasional accomodations out of her pocket. Now she goes only every other year because of that. And now she writes about the people and the country, weaving them into mystery manuscripts and soothing that particular itch in her soul. She said it is never too late to follow your heart.

You are never too old to write.

And you are most certainly never too old to dance with elephants.

Out of all the impressive people I met and chatted with at this awesome convention, the New York Times bestselling authors, the folks who have written well more than one hundred books...I think I will treasure the connection with her the most.

This amazing woman. 

We're going to stay in touch. I want to know where the next adventure takes her.

TODAY IS SOMEDAY

I have many friends who want to write novels. They’ll email me from time to time or call, always saying, “someday I’m going to get around to that book.”

Several of these friends are closing in on retirement age, and say maybe they should start writing a book now, so they’ll “get in the swing of it,” giving themselves another source of income after they’re done with their jobs. Some of them have asked for help, and I’ve tried to provide it. Others have attended writing seminars I’ve hosted, taking copious notes and yet not discovering the three magic words.

Someday, they say, they’ll start that awesome science fiction or fantasy tale.

Someday.

They invariably ask me how I manage to write every day. Easy answer: my “someday” is today. I decided a lot of todays ago that I wanted to write. And rather than think about it, or plan when in the future I’d start a novel, I sat down and started typing.

Today is my “someday.”

Today has always been my “someday.”

And tomorrow will be my “someday” too.

I think that’s about the best advice I can give an aspiring writer: Make Today Your Someday.

I started attending science fiction conventions in the mid-1980s, and I’d listen to the pros: Mike Resnick, Joe Haldeman, George R.R. Martin, Timothy Zahn, and Mike Stackpole. They talked about the craft of writing, plotting, the publishing world, and more. Admittedly, I learned more from them than I did from college writing professors. I still have those old notebooks, and I page through them for inspiration once in a while.

The thing that impressed me most was their persistence and dedication, their drive to write well. I still read books by those SF greats, and I’ve had the good fortune to occasionally edit their short fiction. How awesome a life is that? Awesome because today is my someday.

One of the things I seized upon from all those SF conventions was just how long it took from starting a novel to seeing it on a shelf. It could take years…from outlining the book to writing it, to submitting it to agents (where it could sit for months), to an agent accepting the manuscript and submitting it to publishers (where it could sit for months), to when it got purchased and scheduled for the New York publisher’s calendar (which could take a year or two). Small press is a different matter, and the subject for a future blog.

And all of the above was predicated on the assumption your manuscript would get accepted at each stage. It could also get tossed back at you as simply rejected, or if you were lucky they merely asked for rewrites…which adds more months to the endeavor.

Mike Resnick, Joe Haldeman, George R.R. Martin, Timothy Zahn, Mike Stackpole, and more taught me that writing was a long game…a matter of years.

And so quite a long while ago I made today my someday. I figured that since writing was indeed a long game, and that it could take a long while to go from page one of my book to seeing it on a bookstore shelf, I had better get at it.

My thirty-fifth novel comes out this fall, three of them are with WordFire. Yeah, I been at it a while…

…thanks to the inadvertent nudge Mike, Joe, George, Timothy, and Mike gave me.

Maybe my nudge of MAKE TODAY YOUR SOMEDAY will help someone else.

See, those are the three magic words I mentioned in my second paragraph: Today is someday.

Science With and Without Science

Science Without Science

Only a handful of days left for the awesome SF Storybundle The Cauldron is featured in. I figured I’d take another stab at promoting the book and the others offered with it. I love science fiction, and I’m currently reading Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s Buried Deep, and plan on starting Charles Gannon’s Fire With Fire next. Oh, I’ll read all of them. I love science fiction.

Take a look at the collection: https://storybundle.com/scifi

I have a science background, but nothing that helped much writing The Cauldron with Gene DeWeese, who was freakishly brilliant and indeed a scientist. He wrote technical manuals he called “Spaceships for Dummies” and classic SF, including Star Trek novels that hit the New York Times bestsellers lists.

So when he asked me to coauthor The Cauldron with him, I laughed. My science background is in geology and geography, with a dash of geographical spatial analysis thrown in the mix. I can tell you about all sorts of rocks and earth layers, and a little about earthquakes, volcanoes, rivers, and landscape features. Space?

He said it’d be easy.

It was an education in writing science fiction.

“Don’t delve too deeply,” Gene taught me. Keep the science light when you’re not an astrophysicist. Make the science do what you need it to, and never go into so much detail that your readers will discover what’s wrong, what’s impossible, and what’s baseless.

The ships in The Cauldron are amazing, and how they navigate the stars is something I can’t tell you…it could spoil the book. The bridge is someplace I could wrap around me…and nothing is technical. The controls do what they need to, and there is a mystical quality to everything.

The aliens are plausible and complex and interesting, and nothing about them is so detailed that it would be wrong. Just enough details to be right.

There’s real science in the book, too. I love to research, and so working on The Cauldron gave me a good fix of that.

There’s DARK MATTER. This is awesome stuff. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_matter

There’s a world famous historical astronomer: http://www.space.com/19623-tycho-brahe-biography.html

There’s also an elephant, a circus, the Civil War, a Salem witch hunt, and a Wisconsin fishing resort transplanted in the middle of Indiana. Oh, there’s also a high school yearbook. And all of them have nothing and everything to do with science and fiction.

And if the world had been kinder, Mr. DeWeese and I would have written another science fiction novel. We’d already started to plot it.

My Piece of the Bundle

Big Sand Lake, Transplanted

The Cauldron is only one of the many titles available in the current and MOST AWESOME SF bundle of books. So much reading for so little money…and some of the proceeds are set aside for charity. https://storybundle.com/scifi

So while The Cauldron is only one of the titles, it is the one I am most familiar with, as I wrote it with esteemed NYT Bestselling author Gene DeWeese. And so I’ll tell you about a little piece of that book.

Gene insisted on a vacation resort smack in the middle of Indiana and smack in the middle of the book. He remembered a resort in Indiana and attached fond memories to it.

Well, I remembered a fishing resort near Spooner, WI. And I had fond memories, too. Me and my parents vacationed there for one or two weeks every summer from the time I was seven until I graduated from junior college. Lots of years. Same place EVERY SUMMER. My parents’ friends owned the place, and they gave my dad a good deal on the cabin and fishing boat rental.

So I told Gene “of course there will be a vacation resort in The Cauldron.” But since I’d never been to the place he regaled me about, I took the Birch Haven Resort of Spooner, renamed it, and plopped it down in the middle of our manuscript. The characters stayed in one of my favorite cabins…it afforded probably the best view of the lake.

I can still feel the sand between my toes.

Seriously.

And I can picture the place so vividly in my mind, like I could step out my back door and be there.

The lake was the kind of blue you imagine heaven being…dark, bright, shiny, smooth like glass when the wind stopped, looking like silver pieces had been tossed to float when there was breeze and a faint chop.

It smelled clean and wonderful, and when you stood at the shore, your heels in the sand and the water lapping at your feet, you pulled the scent to the bottom of your lungs and held it as long as you could…before breathing it deep again.

Best of all, it smelled like summer.

Big Sand Lake had sounds too, the shush of the water, the cries of children running up and down the beach, the purr of motors on fishing boats, the cries of birds swooping low. Sometimes dogs would bark…rez dogs they were called, beautiful mixes covered in ticks. And you’d sit on the docks with a pair of tweezers, culling the ticks and trying—desperately—to talk your parents into letting you take one of the dogs home. They were friendly dogs.

And, every once in a while, parents relented.

The lake was so big you couldn’t see the other side of it, and it was a hundred feet deep at the center. Occasionally a college student or two would swim across…usually with someone in a boat following because it was a very big lake. One day me and some buddies—all the kids who vacationed at the resort instantly became friends—decided we would try it. Didn’t even get halfway. But we were age twelve or thereabouts, had no business attempting such a thing, and didn’t have anyone in a boat following. Of course we never told our parents. Back in those days parents let their kids run from sunrise until it got dark.

We got out pretty far, though. Exhausted, we treaded in some lily pads and squealed when fish brushed our legs. We knew there were some darn big fish in the lake…really...lunker pike and muskellunge. We made it back to shore and lay in the shallows, having a good laugh at our foolishness and vowing to try it again next year.

And we did.

And we turned back again.

But in my dreams I made it to the other side.

The Cauldron is about “the other side.” I am so very proud of that book. Gene DeWeese taught me that it is possible to put an elephant, the Civil War, spaceships, and a transplanted fishing resort into a science fiction tale about the fate of our planet.

There’s something amazing about that.

And now my mind is focused on that impossibly blue lake and sand between my toes. A cold orange soda slipping down my throat. I can hear the water lapping.

Join me, won’t you?

https://storybundle.com/scifi