Adieu, Y'all!

By Deborah Sharp 

After blogging here at Inkspot for six years, it's time for me to say goodbye. Lots of water under the bridge since one of my first posts, way back in the summer of 2008. I was eagerly -- nervously! -- awaiting publication of my first book, Mama Does Time.

I was a newly minted Midnight Ink author, and thrilled to be asked to blog with some of my fellow M'Inkers. Here's what I had to say back then: 

I've found another thing to worry about as my book's debut draws near.

It's a testament to my fretting powers that I could come up with something new, given my many present concerns. There's hurricane season, a fear of horrible reviews, and the possibility that my fellow Florida voters will fail to select a president -- again -- and the ensuing media firestorm will ensure that no one pays any attention to my funny little set-in-Florida mystery.

Since I wrote those words, I worried through the debuts of four additional books in my Mace Bauer Mystery series. Number 2 was Mama Rides Shotgun. Three was Mama Gets Hitched. Four was Mama Sees Stars. The fifth one was Mama Gets Trashed. Each time got a bit easier, but the nerves always gnawed at my stomach. I think that's the case for most authors sending their books -- their babies! -- into the world. We fret. Will people love my baby like I do? 

I've decided to take a break from writing. (Possible title: Mama's on Hiatus?) Though I never say never, I have no immediate plans to do a sixth book in the series. So, I thought I'd step aside and let some of the fabulous, fresher authors in the Midnight Ink stable take up the reins. 

In honor of my first career as a reporter for USA Today, I wanted to end with a feature the paper made famous, or maybe infamous: Bullet items. Much used and often maligned, bullets are a short, punchy way of getting info across. They're named for the punctuation that sets off each info nugget, often in the form of a list. I did tons of such lists when I worked for USA Today: Tips for keeping cool in a heat wave. Madonna's favorite tummy-trimmers. Top states for shark attacks (Florida, surprise, was No. 1).

So, here are my Top 5 Favorite Things about Inkspot: 
* It's the office water cooler for co-workers who don't share an office.
* It's given me -- and so many of my Midnight Ink pals -- a group identity.
* It's a place for us to have our say, any way we want to say it.
* It's a way for readers to see what we think about when we're not writing mysteries. 
* It's provided me with entertainment, friendship, and a sense of being part of something bigger than solitary little me. 

I just wanted to say thanks. Adieu, y'all.  

Writer Group Groupie

By Deborah Sharp 
Author of the Mace Bauer Mysteries

On my long and winding road to becoming a novelist, I test-drove a lot of writing groups. Some were too fast; some were too slow. Some chug-chugged along until they -- or I -- ran out of gas. I spent less time choosing a husband than I did trying to find the perfect group of fellow writers.

Was it just me, or do all writers have a hard time finding a critique group that fits? The formula should be fairly straight-forward. Get together a handful of folks with similar sensibilities and comparable writing skills. Mix well; share what you write; and hope for mutual improvement.

I did finally find a great group. But I landed in plenty of ditches before I arrived there. I remember one night early on, trying to concentrate as a fellow aspiring writer read aloud the chapter she'd labored over. In a heavy Russian accent, she droned on and on about life in the former Soviet Union. There wasn't much food. There was a lot of snow. A LOT of snow. The more she mentioned the white stuff, the more I focused on frigid air blowing on my neck from the AC ceiling vent.

 I huddled lower in my seat. My God, it's freezing in here! It's gotta be 65 degrees.

I stared at my hands. My fingers are turning blue! No, wait. I think that's an ink stain. 

I looked across the room. There's an empty chair by the window. I wonder if that side is any warmer? 

My obsession with the thermostat didn't bode well for the reader, or for my participation in the group. I tried several others. Like Goldilocks, I found one group too hard; another too soft. Some were too big; others too small. One was stalled at the talking-about-writing stage. It was less a critique group and more a support group for wannabes.

Me: Hi, my name is Deborah. I'm addicted to the notion I'm going to be a great writer, even though I haven't written anything to read today. 

Group: Hi, Deborah!

The group I finally clicked with was led by a talented and insightful author,who guided the rest of us toward helpful critiquing and better writing. (Thanks, Joyce Sweeney!) We wrote in many genres -- mystery to young adult, poetry to humor -- but we had several things in common. Most of us already grasped the basics, so we didn't get bogged down on sentence structure, grammar, and the like. We all were eager to write, happy to read, and thoughtful when it came time to critique. Nobody pulled punches, but nobody played gotcha either.

Have you ever belonged to a critique group? What do you think makes a good one?

I've Got an Idea for MAMA

By Deborah Sharp

You want to know the sweetest words to an author's ear? "Your characters seem so real!''

Okay, maybe the very sweetest words are: ''Your royalty check is in the mail, and boy, is it a big one!''

Still, that first sentence sounds pretty delicious, doesn't it? Since 2008, when my first Mace Bauer Mystery came out, I've been lucky enough to hear from readers who see my characters as real people. They identify with the tomboyish Mace. They'd like to date -- or marry -- her hottie love interest, Carlos. Or, they know someone like the wacky Mama character. Furthermore, that person drives them crazy, just like Mama drives Mace and her two sisters crazy.

This is great because it lets me know my fictional characters have real enough traits that they come alive on the page. The downside? Sometimes the readers know the characters better than I do. That leads to statements like these:
''That was so unlike Mace. Normally she'd never do something like that.'' (Usually the reader is right!)
Or, ''Why is Carlos so jealous in this book? He was never that insecure or jealous before.'' (Right again, and a mistake on my part, looking back.)

The best feeling is when the two different perspectives on the characters line up -- what I've tried to accomplish as an author, and what the reader perceives.
''I like how Mace's bossy older sister seems softer in this book,'' one reader told me.
I beamed, thinking of the effort I put into ''growing'' Maddie's character -- giving the older sister her own developmental arc.

I was thrilled to hear by email the other day from one especially enthusiastic reader. Cathy Katrovitz, of Vero Beach, Fla., has followed the series from the start. She had some fun making up a snippet about running into my characters on a shopping trip. It was my very first experience with ''fan fiction.'' No danger that my series will transform into a fan-fiction-generating machine like Stephenie Meyer's Twilight or J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter. Even so, I was flattered by Cathy's effort. Here's an excerpt:

I was in Bernice's Fashion Apparel for Well-Endowed Ladies the other day.  Guess who I saw?  Mace and Mama, would you believe?  Judging from the conversation I overheard, Mama is entering a Senior Pageant, and she needed some new outfits to wear . . . 

Well, Mama had that store turned upside down, what with trying on umpteen outfits, admiring the costume jewelry, and wondering who in the world could wear the shoes that could double as weapons, with their stiletto heels . . . 

Mace looked like she'd had enough of shopping and wanted to get back to her animals.  I hope she didn't take out her frustration later on that hunky guy of hers.  Mama made some reference to him - said he was a "Tony Bandito" look-alike.  Mace corrected her with "That's Antonio Banderas, Mama."  I just smiled and left the store.  I'd forgotten why I went there anyway. 

Cute, right? 

How about you? Do you think of characters in books as real people? Do you wonder how they might behave in a particular situation? 

Your Books Are So Fibrous!

By Deborah Sharp

At first, the comment from a guy in the first row at a book signing made me beam:

''I love the fact your chapters are so short.''

I'm so glad to hear that, I gushed. I really think short chapters help with pacing. They heighten the narrative tension ... I was warming up for a literary tangent when he interrupted.

''Yeah, yeah ... all that might be true. But that's not why I like your short chapters.''

Go on, I said.

''You see, my doctor has me on a high-fiber diet.'' He rubbed his stomach. "I'd been having some problems in the bathroom . . .''

Don't go on! Don't go on. I was hoping he'd hear me, pleading telepathically. He didn't.

''Anyway, I think your short chapters are great because I take the book with me into the can. I read a chapter. I do my business. I get on with my day.''

How wonderful, I said. Thanks for sharing that.

Has it ever struck you funny, the kind of things people will say to authors? Maybe it's because reading can be such an intimate experience, often pursued in a comfy spot in the privacy of one's home. Maybe while lying in bed. Or, yes, even while using the john.

I was taken aback at first by his comment. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I'm grateful that anyone enjoys my books, however that may be. Maybe in this guy's case, I don't want to give too much thought to wherever that may be. Even so, Mr. Digestive Issues beats the heck out of those who have something snarky to share about my humorous Mace Bauer Mysteries.  Like the man who raised a hand at another signing:

''Well, you can obviously write.'' He sneered, as if he were one of those reality show meanies measuring out a dollop of approval. "Why don't you write something more meaningful?''

Uhhhh, next question?

Authors, what strange thing has a reader shared with you? Readers, is there something you've always wanted to tell an author, but didn't have the nerve?

We Have a Few Moments for Questions

By Deborah Sharp

Every author knows the questions he or she dreads hearing at book signings. This is one of my favorites:

Earnest Writer (EW): Could you read my 423-page novel? It's a romance between an alien and a human, it has a mystery, and there are flying dragons.

Stumped Author (SA): Uhhhh . . .

EW: And, here's the best part. It has multiple points of view because every character is equally important. All thirteen of them.

SA:  Uhhhh . . .

I'm happy to say very few questions from strangers are about terrible, overlong manuscripts crowded with characters no one would want to read about. I do get many thoughtful, interesting questions from engaged readers. And the answers don't involve me crushing their dreams of publishing fame and fortune, if only I'd  introduce them to my agent, write a letter of recommendation to my editor, and blurb their 423-page masterpiece.

But I have often wondered why readers rarely ask the things that authors talk about to one another. For example, here are 5 questions you'll hear around the bar or in the hotel lobby when authors get together at conferences:

1. How much weight do you gain when sitting on your butt for a year writing a book? 
About 7 and 1/2 pounds.

2. What kinds of things do you do when you know you should be writing?
Watch YouTube. Check my Facebook page. Eat (see the answer to No. 1, above)

3. What Amazon review did you hate most, and why? 
Luckily, I've received only a handful of the dreaded one-star reviews, but this one is my Amazon winner:
Pathetic! the review headline said. If you like ''Girlie Books,'' she writes for you. 
Here's the runner-up: I eventually finished this book, but it was a laborious task.

4. What well-known author is a big jerk?
While I won't mention names here (find me at the bar), I always tell this story about one of my first appearances as a panelist at a mystery conference. A Famous Author (FA) was on the same panel. I  approached FA in the hallway beforehand to introduce myself:
Me, Fan Girl: I'm thrilled we're going to be on the panel together. I really admire your work. .
FA: Oh, you''re the one who writes the funny series.
Me, beaming with pride: Yes, that's me. I write the Mace Bauer Mysteries.
FA, sneering: I HATE funny.

5. How often do people who never read and can barely write a sentence tell you they've always believed they could write a fabulous book?
Far more often than people with no mechanical aptitude tell their mechanics they could rebuild a car, or non-physicians inform their surgeons they've got the stuff to slice out an appendix.  In other words, all the frickin' time.

How about you? Is there a question you've always wanted to ask, but didn't? What weird questions do people ask you?

Implicate, Vindicate, Dedicate

By Deborah Sharp

For such a short prose snippet, book dedications sure take a lot of effort. Or, at least they do for me. I've agonized over how -- and to whom --  to dedicate each of my Mace Bauer Mysteries. ''Mama Gets Trashed'' will come out in September, and the dedication for that one, my fifth, didn't come any easier than the rest.

Given the title of TRASHED, my own mother is probably grateful she was already recognized with this dual dedication in Book No.1, way back in 2008:

To the original Mama, Marion Sharp, and to my husband, Kerry Sanders.

 I love you both to pieces.

 Since I didn't know if there would be a Book No. 2, I decided to economize and honor both my mama and my honey in that first dedication. I've always loved a two-for-one deal. Family members seem to be the most common dedicatees by far. That's not to say all dedications to our loved ones are exactly loving. Glam-shock rocker Marilyn Manson had this to say in the autobiography he dedicated to his parents in 1998:

May God forgive them for bringing them into this world. 

And,  of course, any number of messy divorces and bitter split-ups can make a once-fond dedication read like a parody. After F. Scott Fitzgerald penned these words on the dedication page of Great Gatsby, don't you wonder if he came to regret it? 

Once again to Zelda

Do authors with multiple titles have it any easier? Is it like picking names from a hat to decide who you'll honor with Book No. 12 or 20? Agatha Christie started off her prolific career dedicating to her mum, and then got around to all sorts of people, including some friends whose swimming pool stood in for the scene of one of her many murders. George R.R. Martin, whose epic series became the stunningly popular HBO show Game of Thrones (among other things), gave a shout-out to a fellow fantasy author when he wrote the dedication for this book:

For Phyllis, who made me put the dragons in. 

No word as to whether Phyllis Eisenstein would have preferred that Martin mention her last name so his zillions of fans could more easily Google her. 

I posed a couple of questions about dedications on Facebook recently, as I struggled with one for my new book. The first thing I wanted to know is whether they're even important. Overwhelmingly, authors and readers said yes. Some prefer that dedications maintain some mystery; others like more specific information as a window into the writer's life. I love funny dedications, like children's author Spike Milligan's: 

This book is dedicated to my bank balance. 

Even so, I've never written a knee-slapper, even though my series is humorous. In fact, one of my book dedications can still make me cry. My younger brother died while I was writing my third book, Mama Rides Shotgun. My dedication for that one was more a memoriam: 

To my brother, Kevin Sharp ... gone too soon, just like Daddy. With strong hearts in heaven, I hope they're knocking those baseballs out of the park. 

How about you? Do you read dedications or skip them? Do you have a favorite one? 

Dignity Trashed

By Deborah Sharp

Before I became an author, I dreamed of all the high-minded things I might do if I ever got published. I pictured myself in a patron's parlor, reading from my book. Maybe I'd teach a class, quoting fiction written by luminaries. I imagined hobnobbing with other authors at those mysterious conferences I'd heard so much about.

I did not foresee me donning a Hefty bag and bridal veil to talk about how the "Mama'' character has hijacked my  Mace Bauer Mysteries. But there I was, prancing around in black plastic last month at the Florida Heritage Book fest. (The photo shows me with readers, playing along in Mama scarves and sunglasses). I'd say a garbage-bag garment makes it hard to maintain dignity, but I think that baby got tossed with the bathwater back when I was promoting Book 2.

Set on a trail ride, MAMA RIDES SHOTGUN lent itself to events such as rodeos. I dutifully attended a few, until I wound up sitting on a scratchy hay bale on the hottest day of the year, right next to the cow chute.  You haven't lived until you've tried to peddle books while sweating puddles into your cowgirl boots, enveloped in an odoriferous cloud of cattle crap and urine. Did I mention the cute little candy giveaways I brought that day? Hershey's kisses, which look astonishingly like miniature cow patties when they melt in 100-degree temperatures at an outdoor rodeo arena.

Hey, whatever it takes, right?

Which brings me to my Hefty bag. Organizers at the Heritage Fest  asked each featured author to come up with a topic for an hour-long presentation. Two things about this freaked me out: My talks, generally linked to the release of a new book, usually top out at 20 minutes, with 10 minutes or so for questions. Longer than that, and I begin to bore myself.  Secondly, MAMA SEES STARS (No. 4) came out waaaaay back in the summer of 2011. It felt weird in today's fast-paced information whirl to be yakking solely about a book that seemed soooo yesterday.

So, I had the grand idea of talking about how the mother of the main character in the series has taken over  -- and not just the books, but also the promotion for each book. That way, I could fill an hour with a snippet or two about each title, and have some fun with the construct that the Mama character makes me do outrageous things to spread the word about her ... uh, I mean, MY, books.

Bringing sherbet-colored scarves to signings? Mama's idea, since she believes everyone looks better in sherbet hues. Riding a horse across my state on the week-long Florida Cracker Trail Ride? Mama made me do it, carping in my head about how a real author wouldn't shy away from first-hand research of a setting.  Dressing in tacky bridal veil and serving punch at signings for Book 3? Why not stage make-believe weddings for MAMA GETS HITCHED?  In Book 4,  Mama becomes a diva when a movie crew shoots a film in little Himmarshee, Fla. Said the little voice inside my head:  Diva sunglasses. Feather boa. Wouldn't a red carpet party be a hoot? 

It seemed natural to wind up my book-fest talk with a look ahead to Summer 2013, when Book 5 will come out. The title? MAMA GETS TRASHED. And when I see that picture of me in the garbage bag, I know exactly who to blame.

How about you? Authors, do your characters make you do things you wish they wouldn't? Readers, what wacky thing have you done to promote something or make a point?

Newsletters: Wondrous or Waste of Time?

By Deborah Sharp

I'm wrestling with one of my extremely infrequent urges to send out an author newsletter. I think I have something to say: After coming out with a Mace Bauer Mystery for the last four years in a row, right around this time of year, 2012 will come and go without a new ''Mama'' title.

Two questions are nagging at me:  Does the lack of something new fall under the category of news? And, are author newsletters over anyway?

Friends and readers accustomed to these regular fall releases have been asking, What's up with the Mama? One pal even took to Facebook to speculate whether Mama's author (me) had been eaten by one of the infamous iguanas slinking around southern Florida.  When I was a reporter, I occasionally wrote a  ''Where Are They Now?'' feature -- basically revisiting someone who used to be in the news to see what happened after they fell off the media map. I figured I'd do the same for my fictional family from Himmarshee, Fla. Whatever happened to Mace, her sisters, and their wacky mama . . . ?

But newsletters are a lot of work, and I'm basically lazy (see paragraph above, about how I didn't get around to having a book to release this year). So I've been wondering whether sending out my e-news is worth the trouble. On one hand, I do want folks to know what's cooking with my crew. (Book 5, MAMA GETS TRASHED, will be out in September 2013.) On the other hand, see references to laziness, above.

I'm hardly the first writer to ponder author newsletters. My fellow Midnight Ink'er, Jess Lourey, addressed the issue briefly here at Inkspot way back in 2010. (Her post was a funny one, about worst promotional ideas ever. )

''Unless I only get them once a year and they are for an author whom I love, I don't read them,'' she wrote then.


So, Jess, you have read all my previous Mama missives from Himmarshee, right?


Karin Bilich at Smart Author Sites offers some do's and don'ts in this article about author newsletters . Turns out I already violated the top rule, since I never thought about building a mailing list during the first year or two of book signings and appearances. Dang! I could have had tens of possible recipients, too. I've also never included an excerpt or run a contest, which are another couple of newsletter ''do's.''

Maybe I'll get around to that in this year's newsletter (BTW, sending only one letter a year is a don't.)


If you want to see whether I do or don't, go to my website  to sign up for my newsletter. Scroll down to find the sign-up box on left of page, under my amazingly youthful author picture. Hey, you can always unsubscribe, right? (Including an unsubscribe option is another newsletter do.)

How about you? For or against author newsletters? What do you like about them? What do you hate?

Wild Kingdom

By Deborah Sharp

I awoke to ducks in my swimming pool again today. Before you get the idea I'm going all Tony Soprano on you, let me make it clear: I don't love these ducks. The ducks aren't linked in my subconscious to a mother who withheld affection, who hatched a plan to have me whacked, and who I subsequently tried to smother with a pillow.

No, unlike the TV mob boss, I won't be plunged into anxiety and depression when my ducks leave. In fact, I pretty much hate these ducks, and wish every day they'd disappear. My only anxiety will be over how much extra the pool guy charges for additional chlorine and dealing with copious amounts of duck doody. PS, they're not the sweet-looking ducks Tony communed with, either. They're Muscovy ducks -- waddling, hissing devils so ugly I can't bear to insert a picture here. Go ahead, Google them, and you'll see what I mean.

Note to Animal Lovers: Yes, I know all God's creatures are beautiful. But the Muscovy must have been off pooping in a pool when the Lord was passing out adorable animal qualities.

Note to Ducks: Hello? I know you're not great fliers, but did you really miss that big wide river, just a few yards from the pool?

The ducks aren't the least of it. Maybe it's Florida, but some days I feel like an unwanted visitor in the wild kingdom. I'm all for Nature, until it tries to take over.

I exit the garage side door, and a Mockingbird dive bombs my head, imagining (wrongly) in its little bird-brain I want to steal the eggs from its nest in the pink trumpet vine. I walk out to do yoga in my backyard on Fort Lauderdale's New River, and the dock looks like a bombing range of iguana crap. I pick up the broom to sweep it away, and a chameleon hiding on the brown handle hops off and lands in my hair. On the seawall, I see leftovers from a Night-Heron's after-dark buffet. He's picked a land crab clean, extracting the meat from the legs and claws more diligently than a diner at Red Lobster. All that's left is an empty carapace and a couple of eye stalks.

With all the crab holes in the lawn near the seawall, I picture hundreds of the creatures madly burrowing until they undermine our house and it collapses into the water. More room for the crabs! Beneath my bare feet, I imagine a vast subterranean complex of crustaceans, the land crab version of Lord of the Rings.

Old-timers in Florida (like my dad's family) used to eat land crabs; some of the more recent immigrant populations still do. But the crabs have to be corralled and fed corn meal and leafy vegetables for a week or so, or their meat tastes nasty. Not only is it too much trouble; I kind of consider them neighbors these days. Albeit neighbors who wave big fighting pincers when you come too close:


It's funny that the main character in my Mace Bauer Mysteries has a sideline trapping nuisance critters for newcomers to Florida. I'm no newcomer. As a native, I long ago learned to embrace a live-and-let-live policy toward most of the winged, furred, and feathered creatures that share my space. Spiders, for example, live happily inside my home ... mainly because the really big ones will kick ass on the cockroaches (More genteel Floridians call those ''Palmetto Bugs.'' Take my word for it: They're cockroaches.)

But these Muscovy ducks are getting on my last nerve. If Mace really existed, I'd be tempted to hire her to wrangle the foul waterfowl out of my swimming pool and into a more hospitable spot. Mace has wrestled a gator from a golf course pond, so the ducks should be easy. Alas, she's a figment of my imagination. So I'll keep chasing the ducks into the river, yelling at them and shaking my broom. I just have to watch out for falling lizards, dodge the iguana poo on the dock, and be careful I don't tumble down a crab hole.

How about you? Any encounters with nuisance critters? How do you cope?

What Are You Lookin' At?

By Deborah Sharp

Does where you write make a difference? Well, it definitely would if you were plopped in close proximity to the 'gator hole pictured, left. Nothing like a little incentive to meet your deadline, right?

But, in general, are you picky about your surroundings when you sit down to write? I am. I envy authors who can shut themselves into a windowless room and hammer away at their masterpiece. I know I'm supposed to be creating a physical world for my characters. It shouldn't matter to my imagination where I am or what I see as I do that. But it does.

My Mace Bauer Mysteries are set in the outdoors in Florida. Hence the 'gators. Just a little toothy research. I don't necessarily need to be sitting in the swamp to write about the swamp, but I do like to write outdoors. I like to feel the warmth of the sun; hear the breeze rustling through the trees. I can usually accommodate this need to not be cooped up because of Florida's weather, and because I do my first drafts in longhand, then polish on the computer. Yep, I'm a proud Luddite. It's easy to pop my journal or a notebook into my backpack and leave the house for open spaces.

As I scribbled out version one of this post (Kids: ''Scribbling'' is what scribes did before laptops and netbooks), I absorbed the atmosphere of one of my favorite writing spots in Fort Lauderdale. It's a garden behind the Unity Church, where I park myself at an outdoor table under a shady gazebo. Leaves from a Seagrape, as big as salad plates, flutter to the ground. The afternoon sun dapples through the branches of a Gumbo Limbo. Florida natives call it the Tourist Tree, because its peeling bark is a sunburn-like red.

I'm not a member. Yet no one at the church has ever questioned this middle-aged woman who arrives on a bicycle, slides out her notebook, and gets lost in writing for a couple of hours. When I get stuck, I wander around the garden and look at wooden sculptures with colorful prisms and inspirational passages. I'm not particularly religious, but something always manages to strike me.

Like this one: Divine imagination is awakened in me

And indeed it is, outside.

So, how about you? Where do you like to write? What do you like to see when you write?

Shedding the Past

By Deborah Sharp

Uhff! Pant, pant, pant. Bump, bump, bump, bump, bump. Uhff! Drag. Pant. Drag. Uhff! SCORE!!!

Man, that felt good. What was that, you ask? No, fellow author and Inkspot wise guy, Keith Raffel. It's not an X-rated scene from my new erotic novel. (Reality alert: I'm a Lutheran. I can barely say the word S-E-X, let alone write an erotic novel.) Rather, it's the sound of me hefting a giant black trash bag filled with junk from my office, pushing it down the stairs, tugging it to the curb, and -- UHFF! -- tossing it into the garbage.

Okay, not really ''tossing.'' More like struggling to roll it as high as my knee, so I could boost it to chest level, then lean my whole body into the bag until it finally tumbled over the lip and into the trash can. I admit, I'm not as fit as Beth Groundwater, another fellow Midnight Ink author, and Colorado outdoors woman. Then again, it was a really, really big trash bag.

It's been almost seven years since I quit my reporter's job at USA Today to try my hand at mystery-writing. I don't know why I'd held on to so many notepads, interviews, source lists and the like. It's not like I'm going back into newspapers. Just about everybody I knew in the business has lost his or her job as print outlets continue their slow, depressing, drain-circle toward obsolescence. When's the last time you saw anybody under 45 years of age reading the daily newspaper? (I'm not talking online, where ad rates don't support the cost of news-gathering.)

I just handed in the manuscript for my fourth book in the Mace Bauer Mystery series, Mama Sees Stars. Normally, I tidy my workspace between books. But this was less tidying and more purging. Shedding my old skin. I was like a woman possessed, tossing out those yellowing file folders from long-ago news stories. Some of the reports and statistics I'd collected for articles were so old, the print on fax paper had faded to barely there. Ghost images of forgotten words.

Remember faxes?

I can't even tell you my thought process in deciding which research folders would go, and which would stay. I can tell you that watching the pile grow was satisfying. Bombings? Bye-bye. Gainesville Serial Killer? So long. Riots and Riptides? Out and out. But Seminole Indians and Santeria? Hmmmm, those two will stay; just like Moms Who Kill and Monkeys. You never can tell what kind of trouble my books' Mama character might run into in Florida. If she runs into a monkey on the loose in the Seminole casino, I'm covered.

How about you? When you shed the past, does it feel like you're betraying the person you used to be? Or, do you happily discard things you no longer use? Do you clean your office between each book or big project? Or do you put it off until you can stand the mess no longer?

A Comfortable Fit

By Deborah Sharp

It was a Tuesday in the distant past, and I was trying out another writing group. A fellow aspiring novelist read what he'd labored over, something about Russian immigrants and snow.

My God, this room is cold. Is that an ink stain, or are my fingers actually turning blue? I glanced around the air-conditioned room. Maybe I'll move. Wonder if that side is any warmer?

My interior monologue on the AC thermostat didn't bode well for the reader, or for my membership in that particular group. I'm a huge supporter of writing groups, but it's important to find the right fit. When I left journalism six years ago to try my hand at writing mysteries, I heard the same advice I now give beginners: Join a critique group. There's nothing like getting other eyes -- or ears -- on your work. But finding the right group is easier said than done.

I worked harder at finding a writing group than I did at finding a husband (Thanks to my persistent husband, Kerry, for finding me!) Choosing a group, I was like Goldilocks and beds. One was too hard; the next was too soft. One was too big; another too small. One group hadn't even moved beyond talking about writing. It was less a critique group than a support group.

Me: My name is Deborah, and I'm addicted to the idea I may write someday, just not today.
Group: Hi, Deborah!

Another group fancied itself Serious Novelists. They all wrote Literary Tomes about Important Themes. Now, if y'all know anything about my Mace Bauer Mysteries, featuring Mace's wacky mama . . . Serious, Literary, and Important do not immediately come to mind. One member was writing about a post-apocalyptic world, after almost everyone died of the plague.

Woo-eee, sounds like a knee-slapper! After 20 years as a journalist, I'd had enough sad stories. I wanted to write fun, frothy books. The serious group clearly wasn't the group for me.

All this is not to say you have to find writers working in your exact genre, with your exact style. I ultimately found two groups in Ft. Lauderdale, and I still pop in occasionally (the pace once you're published makes regular attendance more difficult). Both have members with a wide range of styles, including Young Adult (YA), historical, and even a few Serious Types. The key, for me, is the mix. Not too lofty; not too lowbrow. Similarly proficient in the basics, like punctuation, spelling, and the ability to write in paragraphs. Supportive, but also willing to give honest critiques.

Your writing group should be like a favorite pair of shoes. You wouldn't buy a pair you couldn't walk in, would you? (Okay, I've done that ... but still). The shoes don't have to be perfect, just comfortable.

How about you? Do you go to a writing group? What's the best -- or worst -- thing you've gotten out of it?

My Happy Folder

By Deborah Sharp

Who needs the New York Times? Publishers Weekly can go pound sand. And Oprah? Who'd want to sit on that stinkin' couch of yours anyway?

I have something even better than anointment from that Holy Trinity of book arbiters: A Happy Folder.

Recently, I had one of those days when I couldn't write a thing that didn't suck. When I pouted that PW hasn't reviewed my books, even though they've sprinkled their stars upon fellow Inkspot authors. When I pondered hanging up fiction and returning to journalism.

Then I remembered that newspapers are sounding a death rattle, that nobody's hiring, and that friends and former colleagues in the media are losing jobs right and left.

In other words, not a happy day.

Until I got an email from a reader, telling me she loved my book. I thought back to why I left the news biz. I wanted to make people laugh, to bring some levity to a post-9/11 world that felt sad and deadly serious. And here was somebody writing to tell me I'd managed to do just that.

That's when I got the idea of sifting through my emails to create a feel-good folder. I'd fill it only with nice notes from readers. Here's one, from a woman in Birmingham, Ala:

My doctor had been concerned about my rising blood pressure, from stress of constant terrible news on TV. Your book was the perfect antidote: I laughed, felt like I actually knew your very real characters, and was so thoroughly relaxed that my blood pressure went down!

Here's another, from a reader who discovered the Large Print editions of my Mace Bauer Mystery series:

I get migraines from eye strain. It has been a long time since reading was fun for me until your books.


And another one, from a woman who said she's eagerly awaiting Book 3:

I couldn't wait to write and tell you how much I loved your book... funny, clever, LOL, great read ...

After paging through my Happy Folder, the day didn't seem so depressing after all.

PS to Oprah, if you're reading this. I didn't mean it about your couch.

How 'bout you, fellow authors? Do you have a favorite reader e-mail? Readers, have you ever heard from an author that a note from you made his or her day?

Cover Up! You're Naked

By Deborah Sharp

Here's my latest worry in a long list of worries: Am I over-exposed?

Not in the naked sense. More in the Paris Hilton sense . . . well, considering the sex tape, maybe Paris isn't the best example of the distinction. What I mean is am I too out-there? Between Facebook and Book Tour, my website and blogging, have I already mined even the most mundane details about me?

In the old days, authors used to keep a modicum of mystery. Look to J.D. Salinger for the extreme: No published work and nary an interview in a half-century or so, and they're still talking about him.

I started thinking about this when a small arts & culture magazine in my home state of Fla. assigned a writer to do a profile of me. Great, right? Publicity! I was suitably thrilled.


Until the writer asked me to share ''some details no one has heard ... something new.''

I'm only on Book 2. But already my back-story --- Former USA Today reporter, burned out on the news biz, started writing funny mysteries blah, blah, blah --- has become a bore.

So, either I dig really, really deep for something more interesting; or I start making things up. I'm leaning toward the latter:

Me: ''Did you know I was launched into orbit as part of NASA's Journalist in Space program?''
Reporter: "Really?? Wow!''
Me: ''Yep, the earth looks like a blue marble from way up there.''

As members of the Florida media for many years, my TV reporter hubby and I know journalists around the state. I've been lucky to get some stories out there on my funny, Fla-set Mace Bauer Mysteries. But in the process, have I become eye-rollingly predictable? Oh, please. Not her again!

When I was a cub reporter in Fort Myers, Fla., one local artist (nameless here) was a relentless self-promoter. He managed to get the News-Press to write about him even in the absence of anything newsy: "Artist X has begun to think about a new project . . . ''

Finally, the editor enacted an X-ban: ''Unless X is shot during a crack deal gone bad while he's dressed in drag, we're not writing another word about him.''

Which gives me an idea of ''something new'' to share with that writer for the art mag:
''Did you know I used to be a crack dealer?''
''Wow! Really?''
''Yep. I shot a man in Fort Myers once. I was dressed in drag . . . ''

What about you? Are you out there promoting, Paris Hilton-like? Or are you holding on to your mystery, Salinger-style?