THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # NINETY-FIVE -- 15 OCTOBER 2015

Subscribers will doubtless notice our scribbles are briefer than usual this time round, matching the contraction in daylight hours now in full swing. The change in essay length is in order to keep this latest issue Orphan Scrivener to a manageable size, given it's one of the most news-laden in recent years. In keeping with this aim, we'll cut this introduction short right now....

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MARY'S BIT or THE FETE OF THE CAKE

Graham Greene's The Ministry of Fear has one of my favourite opening chapters. During World War Two its protagonist visits a somewhat sinister fete in a London square and, with the advice of the fete's fortune teller, wins a cake by "guessing" its weight. Certainly a desirable prize given the rationing in force at the time, and it kicks off a tale featuring the most stunning deus ex machina it has been my pleasure to read.

There's something so charming about British fetes. I always liked to visit them whether in town or country. They're often connected with church fundraisers. The one I enjoyed the most was held in a Cambridgeshire village, and it sported that wonderful, if uncommon, feature where one could pay a fee and throw a wet sponge at the vicar. I refrained from respect for the cloth, but it was all done in good fun and how could you not like a minister who would go along with it?

Other traditional features of such fetes? Well, not only estimating the weight of a cake but also geussing how many beans there are in a bottle. I've noticed home-grown fruit, vegetables, and flowers always find many buyers and book stalls are well patronised. I once bought a hardback copy of Ivanhoe for a few pennies, a lovely old edition with tissue paper protecting its frontispiece and no apparent date of publication. Was it a first edition? Alas, I cannot say since I no longer have it.

It's true an egg and spoon race would not work in wartime given at one point the egg ration was down to one a week, but have observed both it and the sack race seem to be enjoyed by many smaller fry, with pony rides well patronised by older children. Then there's the fancy dress contests. In one instance the only entry in a certain category was a toddler dressed as a mouse, so she was a shoe-in, or should that be paw-in. Although I think the little one enjoyed the applause as she was led around by her mother just as much if not more as the prize.

Let us not forget the white elephant, baked goods, and handicraft stalls. At a fete in the grounds of a Banbury hospital I bought a small stuffed toy horse whose leather horseshoes needed more attention by the sewer standing in for a blacksmith as they badly needed trimming, but if you want to talk about sinister, the stall holder who sold the horse to me greeted me by name -- yet to this day I have no idea who she was or where we could have met.

Sadly, I've never been fortunate enough to visit a fete offering readings by a fortune teller although I gather they are well patronised even when cakes are not involved. Our closest approach to featuring such a character was in Five For Silver, wherein a shipper named Nereus has a house and garden filled with various animal and other oracles, the better to conduct his hazardous business. But not as hazardous as correctly guessing the weight of a cake at a fete.

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NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

And now here's the latest budget of news...

MORE REVIEWS or GREECE IS STILL THE WORD

It wasn't as lengthy as the journey from Greenland's icy coast to India's coral strand to which Reginald Heber's hymn refers, but John sailed for Greece a book ago and doubtless his time aboard ship felt just as long, given his fear of deep water.

His first post-voyage adventure was formally launched just over a week ago and reviews continue to hove into view, most recently from the Library Journal: "Meticulous research makes this historical series set in the Byzantine empire a joy to read. Admirers of Steven Saylor and Lindsey Davis will enjoy exploring this ancient world."

Care to sample a short extract? Point your clickers to the Historical Fiction Excerpts blog

http://historicalfictionexcerpts.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/guest-blog-mary-reed-and-eric-mayer.html

MYSTERIOUS MUTTERINGS or A BURST O' BLOGS

Publication of Murder In Megara means his biographers emerge from the shadows to pop up hither and yon. Here's a report of sightings so far:

On 11th September thoughts on the vexed question of how to present the violence inherent in mysteries were offered to readers of Lance Wright's Omnimystery News site

http://www.omnimysterynews.com/2015/09/please-welcome-mystery-author-mary-reed-1509110800.html

There was visit on 30th September to Maryann Miller's blog with Perchance We Meet, concerning unexpected meetings. And speaking of unexpected, we had nothing to do with Maryann's choice of illustration, but the teapot in the photo is identical to ours!

http://maryannwrites.com/itsnotallgravy/2015/09/30/perchance-we-meet/

Then on October 5th Lois Winston kindly hosted some thoughts on her blog, this time concerning the role of mosaics in the Lord Chamberlain series

http://anastasiapollack.blogspot.com/2015/10/crafts-with-anastasia-guest-authors.html

Next day we dropped in again on Lance Wright to chat about such diverse topics as what we look for when selecting a book to read for pleasure and how we would complete the sentence "I am a mystery author and thus I am also..."

http://www.omnimysterynews.com/2015/10/a-conversation-with-mystery-authors-mary-reed-and-eric-mayer-1510060800.html

Looking ahead, we'll be calling in at the Type M For Murder blog to present Geese, Graves, and other Writerly Concerns, which describes our method of checking for anachronisms. Go to

http://typem4murder.blogspot.com/

on 17th October, scroll to "Saturday's post", et voila!

A BIT OF NOSTALGIA or GOLDEN AGE MYSTERIES AGAIN

We continue to offer reviews of Golden Age of Mystery novels on our blog on Sundays. Titles scrutinised so far include Mary Roberts Rinehart's The Man In Lower Ten, The Bittermeads Mystery by E. R. Punshon, and Herbert Jenkins' collection of short stories titled Malcolm Sage, Detective. There's even book jacket illustrations! This coming Sunday another collection, Average Jones by Samuel Hopkins Adams, gets its turn under the microscope. Check it out at:

http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/

THE GUARDIAN STONES or KIRKUS LEADS!

Given our 1941 mystery The Guardian Stones is a January 2016 title, we were surprised to see Kirkus Reviews has commented on it already. But so they did: "A fascinating look at a small town mired in the past and confronting the future—with a bombshell ending."

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/eric-reed/the-guardian-stones/

NOT TO MENTION or STILL MORE TO READ

A couple more contributions to the Poisoned Pen Press multi-author blog to report.

On 18th August George Bernard Shaw's observation no question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious introduced All The News That's Fit To Be Emailed

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/news-thats-fit-emailed/

Edwin Whipple it was who described books as lighthouses in time’s great sea, leading into Coquetting With Starvation, which appeared on 18th September

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/coquetting-starvation/

Since it's not yet written, the topic of the blog appearing on 18th October is as yet unknown, but subscribers could always pop over there on that date to find out. Meantime, they might care to read news and blogs about and by our fellow Poisoned Pen Press authors via this links page

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/category/news-and-blog/news/

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ERIC'S BIT or HUMMING WHILE YOU WORK

On my way through the kitchen I often notice our refrigerator humming to itself, always the same tune, monotonous to my ear, maybe something from Eno's Here Come the Warm Jets album or a snatch of Kraftwerk. The fridge (if I may be so familiar, but after all we've known each other for fifteen years now) may be old enough to recall that music. It's over thirty at least. We know because more than five years ago, Mary called Whirlpool hoping to find a replacement for the cracked freezer compartment door and was told by a perplexed and skeptical representative that our model hadn't been manufactured for at least twenty-five years.

In the past refrigerators enjoyed lifetimes as improbable as those of the Biblical patriarchs. Today they are designed to break down in six to eight years according to one repairman, annoyed that half the refrigerators he's is called out to fix are in fact beyond repair and need replacing. Thirty or forty years is certainly a ripe old age for a refrigerator of any vintage. Maybe its longevity is partly due to its smallish size. Short and slim enough to fit into the alcove under the stairs, its compressor hasn't been taxed as much as that of a heftier model.

Then too, this house used to be a seasonal home. During much of the year, with the plumbing drained and the electricity shut off, the fridge rested, watching the ever changing oblongs of shadow moving through the chilly, silent room, a succession of Edward Hopper paintings. I suppose a refrigerator doesn't mind the cold, but rather luxuriates in icy temperatures it doesn't need to produce itself.

As is usually the case, our fridge was here when we arrived. How unsettling it must be for refrigerators to change owners. One day filled with ice pops for young children, the next stuffed with Ensure. What unfamiliar items have those shelves held? Given the age, they might once have been populated by extinct beverages, such as Ma's Cream Soda and white-labeled bottles of Generic Beer.

And how exactly was the freezer compartment door so badly cracked? Oh, the stories our old fridge could tell. But all it does is hum to itself.

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AND FINALLY

George Bernard Shaw would probably advance the theory our fridge hums because it doesn't know the words. Meantime, subscribers' blood may well be chilled when we remind them the next issue of Orphan Scrivener will skate into their in-boxes on December 15th.

See you then!
Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://home.earthlink.net/~maywrite/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, our bibliography, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. There's also the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! There's also our joint blog at http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/ Intrepid subscribers may also wish to know our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales Drop in some time!

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THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # NINETY-FOUR -- 15 AUGUST 2015

Summer is starting to fade a bit around the edges, as sunlight slants ever more thinly and shadows creep in earlier each day. As Tennyson said, the seasons flower and fade, and there is no doubt that, despite pleasant evenings and cooler mornings, the year is in decline. On the other hand, we trust subscribers will not decline to glance over this latest issue of Orphan Scrivener and that being so, here it is...

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ERIC'S BIT or THOSE THREE FIENDISH WORDS

John Greenleaf Whittier famously wrote, "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'" I guess the old poet never heard, on a sunny August day, the chilling phrase "back to school."

Today sportswriter Kelly Dwyer, writing about a "back to school" charity game, remarked parenthetically that "even in my mid-30s I still cringe every time I write, see, say or read those three words." I'm three decades older than Kelly and I still feel that way. It was a shock being unexpectedly reminded during the very time of year when the words resounded like doom -- or a school bell -- over my vacation.

I always felt chagrined (oh, yes, as a boy I was chagrined most of the time, being a reader of Word Power in Readers' Digest) that my vacation should be, in effect, cut short -- the final weeks of freedom practically ruined -- by the bitter reminder of coming imprisonment.

Usually the reminder would rear its ugly head in a radio or newspaper advertisement for school necessities. Walking into the store last week and seeing the special displays of notebooks and lunchboxes made me queasy just as it did more than a half century ago. At least notebooks and pencils had some pleasant connotations. I doodled cartoons during arithmetic.

School clothes were another matter. My mother yanked me out of summer paradise to drag me into the broiling city and a "Boys Department" which felt like a school annex since I never visited there except as a prelude to classes.

In those days, there were tailors in the world, although they were getting on in years. When the tailor bent, stiffly, to chalk my cuffs (yes, back then they even hemmed cuffs...you youngsters can look it up.) I was horribly reminded of black boards covered with indecipherable long division or fractions. When he took my inseam it felt like I was being measured for a shroud. I am pretty sure that in the anteroom to hell you are met not by fiery eyed, pitchfork wielding demons but a wizened little man with a tape measure looped over his shoulders.

And then, the dismay, after a summer spent barefoot in clover, (forgetting the occasional bee underfoot) to feel my toes being pinched into the cruel confinement of leather shoes which not only hurt but demanded I slavishly polish them.

What made me hate school so much? Was it the regimentation, or the fact that in the post Sputnik era kids lacking engineering aptitude were pushed aside? Maybe I dreaded the endless tests, each one presenting a new possibility for failure. Or was it just that I preferred laying on the porch drawing with crayons or wallowing around a creek in pursuit of frogs to sitting in a classroom? Well, who wouldn't?

Fortunately I am beyond the fiendish clutches of the education system now. August brings a ghostly frisson, but in September I watch the yellow buses roll past and am happy not to be on one. I don't like getting old. My back hurts, my hair is falling out and it takes me twice as long as it once did to mow the lawn. But at least I don't have to go back to school.

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NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

We've a fair budget of news this time round, so let's get to it...

MURDER IN MEGARA or AN UPDATE ON JOHN'S LATEST ADVENTURE

After ARCs become available comes that difficult time of waiting, akin to contemplating an approaching visit to the dentist. An anxious time for authors to be sure, but once the first review is out, even if it's a slash and burn horror, we proceed serenely thereafter. We are now in the latter stage since the first notices of Murder In Megara aka Elevenfer have appeared.

Publishers Weekly: "Solid...one of the more distinctive series entries."

Kirkus Reviews: "John’s 11th case combines historical detail with a cerebral mystery full of surprises."

A SHROPSHIRE LASS or THE GUARDIAN STONES

It's too early for reviews to have appeared for our January 2016 title, not to be wondered at given ARCs have just become available, but as promised last time here's a bit more information about this new venture.

In 1941 residents of the remote Shropshire village Noddweir must suddenly contend with missing children, murdered neighbors, and an ominous sense of evil radiating from the prehistoric stone circle on their mountaintop. Who is responsible? Some villagers see the hand of German infiltrators bent on terror. The superstitious, mindful of the stone circle gazing down on Noddweir, are convinced malevolent supernatural powers are at work.

Edwin Carpenter, a retired American professor visiting to study the ancient stones, joins Grace, daughter of the former village constable, to investigate the mysterious crimes that have driven the village to the edge. They lack the skills of the police, but demonstrate hardiness and determination in pursuing their investigation.

ANNOUNCING A NEW BLOG or A REED BY ANOTHER NAME

Since the last Orphan Scrivener darkened your in-box we've begun a joint blog under the name of Eric Reed. Its content includes a regular feature devoted to Golden Age of Mystery reviews, a new one appearing each Sunday. To date these titles include Malcolm Sage, Detective by Herbert Jenkins, Mary Roberts Rinehart's The Confession, and The Bittermeads Mystery by E. R. Punshon. Tomorrow's review will focus on Sapper's collection of Ronald Standish stories. Otherwise, who knows what mischief we'll get up to next? Here's our latest location:

http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/

THE STRUGGLE TO BE BRIEF or FIVE FAVOURITE MYSTERIES

Mary contributed five titles and brief comments thereon to Martin Hill Ortiz's Mystery Writers Choose Their Favorite Mysteries feature on 20th June. Limited to a quintet, it was quite a struggle and indeed those cited might well change today and tomorrow. It must be said however the first mentioned, The Spiral Staircase, also published as Some Must Watch, and written by Ethel Lina White is such a favourite it would remain entrenched in any new list. As Mary observed, its slow build-up of tension is enough to make readers of a nervous disposition swoon. Novels by John Dickson Carr, a couple of Agatha Christies, and a John Buchan round out the list. However, there was, despite the natural progression this list might suggest, no mention of a partridge in a pear tree, easily established by consulting Martin's blog at

http://martinhillortiz.blogspot.com/2015/06/mystery-writers-choose-their-favorite_20.html

AND SPEAKING OF LIMITS or A LATE ARRIVAL

In the last issue of Orphan Scrivener we provided a number of authors' comments on what they consider a pleasant afternoon. The catch was their descriptions had to be in twelve words or less. Now John McEvoy gallops up to contribute his entry, a most fitting one for this month: My Pleasant Afternoon would be with family watching Saratoga Races in August. John's most recent book is High Stakes.

HOW WE WRITE or REVELATIONS IN VERSE

We were honoured when the San Joaquin Sisters in Crime July newsletter reprinted part of our explanation of our method of co-writing. With apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan, the first verse runs in this wise:

We're co-authors of ratiocinative fiction
Inventing plots full of character friction
Scattering clues for the villain's conviction
Co-writers of mysteries!

The full version may be read on the Poisoned Pen Press blog by pointing your clicker at

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/partners-in-crime/

OH, THOSE HANDSOME DEVILS! or A LOOK OF PECULIAR ENERGY

Speaking of the Poisoned Pen Press blog, on 18th July Mary wound up her recent sequence of contributions on contemporary ideas of attractive looks in both genders as evidenced by older novels, a fascinating topic that due to space limitations could only be touched upon lightly. A Conception of Some Old Nordic God and A Look of Peculiar Energy provides a handful of women writers' thoughts on the subject, and may be viewed at

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/conception-old-nordic-god-look-peculiar-energy/

The topic for 18th August is, appropriately enough, All The News That's Fit To Be Emailed at

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/?p=25487

Meantime, subscribers might care to read news and blogs by other Poisoned Pen Press authors via the links on this page

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/category/news-and-blog/news/

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MARY'S BIT or LET US NOW PRAISE FAMOUS MEANIES' ENDS

Some time ago I began an as-yet uncompleted project to read all the Dickens novels I'd not yet perused, and as a result have come to admire his creation of such a wonderful rogue's gallery of villains it's difficult to choose a handful of representative mug shots.

Which won't stop me from having a go, as Wilfred Pickles' old radio programme was wont to invite participants. So, as Wilfred would ask his good lady Mabel at a certain point in the proceedings, what's on the table?

A trio of truly nasty meanies would be my spritely response, two of 'em from Oliver Twist and the third from The Old Curiosity Shop. Happily for the moral balance of the universe and Victorian sensibilities Dickens saw to it that in due course they came to grief in what I for one consider particularly appropriate ways.

Mr Bumble, overseer of the workhouse where Oliver Twist was born, punishes the latter for his famous request for more gruel, made on behalf of all the half-famished boys. Oliver is not only advertised as available to anyone needing an apprentice, but in the interim is kept locked up, emerging every other day to be flogged in front of the boys in the dining hall as a warning and when washing under the outdoor pump despite the cold weather is repeatedly thrashed with a cane by Mr Bumble. Time passes and the Bumbles become pauper residents in the same workhouse. Dickens did not disclose whether or not they enjoyed their gruel, but choking on it might well have been the fondest hope of enraged readers.

Bill Sikes gets my vote as Dickens' most monstrous creation. He was born to hang, an old saying applied to Oliver by a certain gentleman in a white waistcoat if you please. Bill is a burglar and a vicious brute with a hair-trigger temper, prone to violent outbursts. Nancy, the prostitute who loves him, meets a terrible end, for Sikes beats her to death. In subsequently seeking to escape the mob he accidently hangs himself in an attempt to get away via the roof, whereupon Bull's-eye, his vicious and ill-treated but loyal dog, attempts to leap to safety but fails, dashing out his brains. I suspect most readers feel sorrier for the dog than its owner, for it only behaves as it has been trained to behave.

Malignant dwarf Daniel Quilp is, among other things, a slum landlord and money lender. Happiest when tormenting others, he is a domestic tyrant, physically and mentally abusive towards his timid and downtrodden wife Betsy, who is terrified of him. Much is subtly revealed by his sneering description of her as well-trained. Having preyed on those who were drowning in debt, it seems only right he comes to a watery end in the Thames one foggy night. His death ruled a suicide, his body is buried with a stake through it at a crossroads, although some whisper his mistreated dogsbody Tom Scott received the body -- or exhumed it -- and it's buried elsewhere. How Quilp would have gnashed his teeth had he known his widow would remarry happily and she and her new spouse lead a merry life on Quilp's money!

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AND FINALLY

It's said October's child, like Wednesday's, is born to woe. However, it'll be only a single dose of misery when the next Orphan Scrivener trundles into subscribers' in-boxes, given its arrival will take place on October 15th, a Thursday.

See you then!
Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://home.earthlink.net/~maywrite/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, our bibliography, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. There's also the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! Intrepid subscribers may also wish to know our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales Drop in some time!

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THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # NINETY-THREE -- 15 JUNE 2015

Sticky summer heat has settled honey-like over much of the country and we've been as busy as the proverbial bees organising this latest issue of our newsletter. What's the buzz from Casa Maywrite? Read on....

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MARY'S BIT or DEFINE IN TWELVE WORDS OR LESS, AFTER THE FASHION OF THIS TITLE

And now a question for subscribers: how would you define a pleasant afternoon in twelve words or less? Today at least my answer would be fresh coffee and a good book, preferably of Golden Age vintage.

A couple of lines do not an essay make, so I threw the question open to our fellow Poisoned Pen and Poisoned Pencil authors. Their responses are certainly a varied and interesting selection and here they are, listed in no particular order along with a note of their most recent or next to be published titles.

Priscilla Royal [Satan's Lullaby]
Singing birds, cuddling cats, cheese and fruit, a good book.

Mike Kahn [The Sirena Quest]
Mike's contribution is St Louis specific:
A stroll through Forest Park ending with a picnic on Art Hill.

Jeanne Matthews [Where The Bones Are Buried]
Quaffing kir and people watching in a Parisian sidewalk café with Sid.
Editorial note: Sid is Jeanne's husband.

Catherine Winn [Beyond Suspicion]
Enjoying iced tea and hilarious antics of birds at the full feeder.

Warren Easley [Never Look Down]
Coming across a shady fern-choked glade while hiking in the Northwest

Donis Casey [All Men Fear Me: An Alafair Tucker Mystery]
Defining a pleasant June afternoon in Arizona:
Floating in the pool, big hat, lots of sunscreen, a Mai Tai.

Triss Stein [Brooklyn Secrets]
Spring day, flowers blooming, walking around my neighborhood with my toddler granddaughter.

Frederick Ramsay [The Vulture]
Rain on the roof, fire in the fireplace, and a good book.

Charlotte Hinger [Fractured Families]
Sunday. Early communion. Dinner with family. Dozing in the sun with NYT.

M. Evonne Dobson [Chaos Theory]
Water condensation on cold drink glasses, children's laughter, lilac scented summer day.

Tammy Kaehler [Avoidable Contact]
Warm breeze, sparkling water, good book--with the day's writing done.

Dennis Palumbo [Phantom Limb]
A lounge chair under a shade tree, lemonade and a new book.

Gin Price [On Edge]
Animals depicted in clouds, wind petting sun-kissed skin, water rhythmically slapping aft.

B. K. Stevens [Fighting Chance]
Humming along to Billy Joel while rolling out cookie dough.

J. M. Hayes [The Spirit and the Skull]
Playing with the dogs as I plot my next crime.

The contribution from Jeff Siger [Sons of Sparta] refers specifically to June 15th, not only the date of this newsletter but also commemorating another notable event:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JEFFREY

Being as it's his natal anniversary we'll finish the song for him, celebrating the gladsome day in a fashion I shall now announce in twelve words or less:

I'll play the accordion and everyone sing along ... aone annatwo annathree ....

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NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

It's been a busy couple of months since we last graced your in-box and the ticker is clickety-clicking quite fast as we compose this section.

ONCE AGAIN, MURDER IN MEGARA or NEWS OF E-ARCS

In the last Orphan Scrivener we mentioned electronic ARCs would be forthcoming for Murder In Megara. We've just heard these are now available at Net Galley for those who wish to review John's latest adventure and prefer that type of advance copy. Look here for the e-ARC relating how John, living on his estate in Greece, extricates himself from accusation of murder. It is a task he must accomplish alone far from Constantinople. Will exile turn into execution?

https://s2.netgalley.com/catalog/book/66105

WHO IS ERIC REED? or THE GUARDIAN STONES

May we introduce Eric Reed? No mystery as to which pair of inkstained wretches lurk behind the nom, although a mystery in the written sense is involved. The Guardian Stones, slated for publication by Poisoned Pen Press in January 2016, is set in a Shropshire village during the Second World War. It's a dark book, quite different from anything we've written hitherto. The titular stone circle broods above the village of Noddweir, where distressing events begin to unfold just before the arrival of Edwin Carpenter, a retired American professor and widower with a great interest in folklore and ancient remains such as the Guardians...more about this venture into new territory for both Edwin and ourselves in the next Orphan Scrivener.

ERIC AS LITERARY CRITIC or IT'S AMAZING!

The spotlight now swings around to shine on Eric M, whose blast from the past -- a review of sf writer Robert Silverberg's 1953 fanzine Space Ship -- was featured in Graeme Cameron's Club House column in the 5th June issue of Amazing Stories. Here's the skinny

http://amazingstoriesmag.com/2015/06/clubhouse-fanzine-reviews-not-sure-hates-not/

ANOTHER GAD REVIEW or WHAT HAPPENED IN NUMBER SEVENTEEN?

Well may subscribers ask. They can find out by glancing over M. E. Mayer's latest review, this time of Louis Tracy's Number Seventeen. Featuring Winter and Furneaux, a favourite pair of squabbling detectives, the plot includes numerous twists and turns involving, among other things, an American tourist, a motorcycle chase, kidnappings, shots through windows, pea-sized ivory skulls, and a grey limousine. Not to mention MEM provides a link to an etext of the novel. Can't beat that for being helpful!

http://memayer.blogspot.com/2015/06/review-number-seventeen-by-louis-tracy.html

A MEMORY OF SUNBEAMS or DAZZLING BEAUTY

Deep-Set Eyes and a Perfectly Shaped Head was the title of Mary's 18th April contribution to the Poisoned Pen Press blog. Its focus was notions of feminine beauty as revealed by male writers in older novels. Read it here

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/deep-set-eyes-perfectly-shaped-head/

A Compound of Cherries and Cream and A Memory of Sunbeams suggest copy for an advertisement promoting holidays in Devonshire, although if any fortunate subscribers happen to visit the county they should be sure to try the famous Devon toffees and cream teas! It was in fact the title for Mary's 18th May follow-up to her April blog. On that occasion she glanced at female writers' descriptions of beautiful characters in books published some while since. Point your clicker here

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/compound-cherries-cream-memory-sunbeams/

HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME WRITES or A LONG INTELLECTUAL FACE AND A GOOD NATURED BULL

Once again older books will provide material for Mary's June 18th blog, which continues on the previous theme with a look at male writers and what they considered constituted handsome fellows, or at least in their fiction. Subscribers may read that blog by following the link appearing on that date at

http://www.poisonedpenpress.com/category/news-and-blog/

As always, if the topic is not their cup of tea, cream or otherwise, subscribers may care to glance over musings from numerous Poisoned Pen authors on a wide range of topics. Reach those that appeal via blog links provided on the page just mentioned.

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ERIC'S BIT or BEHIND (WHAT WILL BECOME) THE SEENS

We don't often talk about our publisher Poisoned Pen Press (PPP as we refer to them). I know that when I read a book I don't care who put it out. However, if it weren't for the efforts of the good folks in Scottsdale, Arizona, I wouldn't be talking to you right now since you probably would never have seen the mystery novels Mary and I write.

I mention this because self-publishing is all the rage. At least amongst writers. We hear about wild successes like Amanda Hocking and E. L. James. Who needs a publisher when you can do it yourself?

Well...in the first place how many runaway self-published bestsellers are there from authors who are not young and Internet savvy? Building a social media presence seems more important than writing ability. The former certainly not our forte.

One of the most important things PPP does for us is alert readers and booksellers to our work, by sending out review copies for example. Next the press makes sure those who might be interested can get hold of the books. A complicated task. PPP books are distributed by Ingram Publisher Services, and are available through wholesalers including Ingram, Baker & Taylor, and Brodart. Different wholesalers can reach different markets. Baker & Taylor, for example, is responsible for our books being in hundreds of libraries.

A publisher takes care of all the details, from buying that ISBN number you see on all commercially released books, to formatting our novels for Kindle, Nook and all the other electronic flavors I can't even keep track of. PPP has the books printed, and digitized, and even recorded. They appear in hardcover, trade paperback, large print, numerous e-versions and, for the last few, in audio.

PPP also edits our work rather than sending us out into public with dirt on our chins. Even after Mary and I assiduously rewrote and copy- edited the newest novel our editor, Annette, found a number of, shall we say, infelicities. You simply cannot edit your own words. They are too familiar.

Then there are the covers...PPP's production guy, Pete, discussed what we wanted, suggested an artist, whose work we loved, then sketched out a design based mostly on the title, a big trend today, but one I wasn't aware of until he pointed it out. Sure, we could have done our own cover. And as cover designers...well, we're good writers.

If you're with a publisher, professionals do everything but the writing for you. If you self-publish you either have to pay professionals or do things which are outside your expertise -- and probably do them poorly.

There's a lot more PPP does, for instance publicizing its books in various ways, such as attending trade shows and offering writers advice and support on promotional efforts. No doubt there are plenty of services I've forgotten or don't even know about.

Sure, there are novels and circumstances where self-publishing is appropriate but despite what you might read on the Internet lately, with rare exceptions, publishers remain as important to writers as writers are to publishers.

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AND FINALLY

James Thurber once characterised the past as an armchair located in an attic. The present he represented as an ominous ticking. As for the future? Anyone's guess, according to Thurber. However, for subscribers there need be no guessing on one coming event at least, since the issue of Orphan Scrivener is slated to arrive in subscribers' in-boxes on August 15th.

See you then!
Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://home.earthlink.net/~maywrite/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, our bibliography, the Doom Cat interactive game written by Eric, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. There's also the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! Intrepid subscribers may also wish to visit Eric's blog at http://www.journalscape.com/ericmayer/ or pop over to our shadow identity M. E. Mayer's blog (largely devoted to reviews of Golden Age and classic mysteries) at http://memayer.blogspot.com/ And just for the heck of it, we'll also mention our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales Drop in some time!

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