PENNY PINCHERS

You may be surprised to learn that I led another life before I started writing the Sarah Woolson historical mystery series. In fact, the first thing I ever wrote was a newspaper column titled, PENNY PINCHERS (inspired by my efforts to feed my growing family on a budget that was looking more anemic by the week). The articles were never intended to be any big deal, just one mom sharing household hints with equally frustrated friends and neighbors, all of us doing our best to get by despite ever rising inflation. When my husband Bob dared me to submit the first few columns I’d scribbled to a local newspaper, I laughingly took him up on it. No one was more surprised than I was when the editor called up to tell me I was hired!

My astonishment continued to grow when the column was picked up by a dozen San Francisco Bay Area newspapers! Suddenly I found myself half buried beneath stacks of reader letters, asking me everything from how to slow-cook a turkey, to what to pack in their kids’ lunch boxes. Since I suspected this unforeseen popularity wasn’t due to my great writing skills, there could be only one answer: I obviously wasn’t the only mother in Bay Area having trouble making ends meet. Somehow I had inadvertently stumbled upon thousands of kindred spirits!

PENNY PINCHERS ran successfully for more than three years. During that time, I have to admit that I learned every bit as much from my readers as they learned from me. Since I felt obliged to try out every recipe I received in the mail (checking nutrition as well as cost), my family enjoyed a far more varied menu than they ever would have if I’d been left to my own devices. Not only that, but our budget finally became more manageable, which was what had started this whole thing in the first place!

When recent visitors to my website began asking me to feature some of the PENNY PINCHER columns, I initially hesitated. After all, they’d been written more than fifteen years ago. But as I played around with the idea, I realized the articles were just as applicable today as when they were first written. So, why not? I asked myself. Maybe there were still mothers and fathers out there struggling to make ends meet.

It seems as if I was right. In spades! Apparently things haven’t changed all that much as far as family budgeting is concerned. We all still want to feed our kids nutritious meals (without taking all day to do it), and we still have to somehow make our paychecks stretch. And how about those gas prices? Yikes!

All in all, it looks as if PENNY PINCHERS may be around for a long time to come!

CLEANING MY OFFICE

I promised my husband Bob that I’d finally clean my office. Normally, I would consider his distinctly unkind comments about my overflowing bookshelves and cluttered floor space as nobody’s business but my own. However, since he’s set up a card table in one corner of my library/office (I have floor-to-ceiling bookshelves completely covering three of my walls), I had to agree that perhaps he had a point, especially after the last – but unfortunately not the first – time he tripped while attempting to navigate a safe path to his working area.

When Bob suggested moving from the San Francisco Bay Area some years ago, I threatened not to budge from our native California unless he promised to hire someone to build the above mentioned bookshelves so I could finally have the library of my dreams. (Hey, I’m not above using a little friendly intimidation if that’s what it takes). When the friendly, but slightly bemused carpenter, completed the job, I looked around at the mostly vacant shelves and sheepishly admitted that maybe I’d gotten a little carried away. “I’ll never be able to fill all these empty spaces,” I groaned. (Mind you, this had not been an inexpensive undertaking!) Bob didn’t reply, but just gave me a strangely enigmatic look that expressed better than words that he wasn’t about to underestimate my penchant for collecting books. Sure enough, ten years later I had filled every square inch of available shelf space, and books had begun to spill over onto the floor.

Now that I’d promised Bob to box up some of the books, though, I found myself eager to finally achieve a nice, neat office – you know, the kind you see featured in home-design magazines? Determinedly, I bent to my task. Yet after several hours of packing books into boxes – only to take them out again minutes later – I sat back off my sore knees and re-considered the situation. Performing a desultory count, I was dismayed to find only a dozen books had made it into the box and managed to remain there. Sadly, the path to Bob’s card table/desk remained as precarious as ever. I had never considered myself overly sentimental, yet I was finding it really hard to part with my old and treasured friends.

I’d like to say that in the end practicality triumphed over sentimentality, but it wouldn’t be true. Oh, I boxed up a bunch of books, all right. But if Bob ever takes a notion to explore the back area of our attic, he’s going to receive one very big surprise: six crammed boxes of books stored behind a collection of Christmas wrapping paper and ribbon.

I figure that if I can manage to survive the next few years without feeling a compulsion to dig out one of my old friends, I’ll finally be ready to haul them on over to the Goodwill.

How I Research My Books

So many readers write to ask me how I research the books I write set in 1880s San Francisco. While it’s true that researching can take up a lot of time and energy, I have to admit that it’s one of the things I most enjoy about writing the Sarah Woolson mystery series. In fact, I’m sure I probably collect far more information about nineteenth-century San Francisco than I will ever possibly be able to use.

A lot of people I meet at book signings, readings and talks, seem to think that I do most of my fact-finding online, which, I admit, is frequently the case. But the astonishing breath and scope of the Internet notwithstanding, nothing beats the fun and adventure of browsing for hidden gems in second-hand bookstores! And although I’ve found wonderful old books up and down the west coast, the best place to search for them is in all the intriguing bookstores to be found in the city by the Bay itself.

Walk down just about any street, and sooner or later you’ll come across a small, narrow, frequently cluttered little bookstore, where poking about for treasures is a grimy, but ever so rewarding adventure. If you don’t mind a bit of sneezing, and are willing to risk coating yourself with a fine layer of dust, you can spend hours happily browsing through row after row of books looking for just the right volume to add to your library. And what a thrill it is to happen across a tome that delivers exactly the information you need for a new book. After years of visiting every second-hand bookstore I could find, I’m happy to boast that I now own one of the best collections of old San Francisco books outside the San Francisco Library. A few of them are well over a hundred years old.

I don’t see how I could get by without my computer – and I love surfing the Internet – but give me a nice tricky research project, an old second-hand bookstore, and I’m happy as a clam and set for a fun day of treasure hunting!

WRITER’S BLOCK

I got stuck on the new TERROR ON RINCON HILL book this morning, so I went back and reviewed the first few chapters hoping for inspiration. Probably a bad idea, since it turns out I don’t like them. Somehow the beginning of the story doesn’t hit me the way it should.

Experience tells me that I should ignore the little knot that started forming in my stomach around page 3. This is unusual for me. Normally, after I’ve decided the major plot of a new Sarah Woolson book, the first sentence or scene pops into my head and almost always stays there. Not this time. This beginning doesn’t pack the kind of punch I’m looking for. The question is, should I take the time to fix it now, or go back after I’ve finished the first draft?

Logically, I know I should get on with it and re-work chapter one after I see how the book is going to play out. But sometimes you just don’t want to be logical; you want the satisfaction of knowing you nailed the book from line one. On the other hand, the beginning of a book is probably the most critical section of all – every writer knows that if you don’t capture the reader’s attention on the first or second page, you’re very likely to lose them altogether! I really need to go back right now, I decide, and re-work the first couple of paragraphs until they reach out, grab readers, and physically pull them into the story.

The knot in my stomach is growing bigger by the minute. Time to calm down and rethink the opening scene. Yeah, right, calm down. That’s like trying to suppress a volcano after it’s already begun to erupt. I’ve got a deadline, after all. I’ve got a deadline, a contract, and a nervous editor to please. Not to mention daily letters from readers wanting to know when book #4 in the Sarah Woolson series will finally be off the press. Oh, no, now my head is beginning to ache!

Time for a nice hot bubble bath, I tell myself, along with a few scented candles and a nice glass of wine. Maybe two glasses of wine. Oh, what the heck, make that three!

Ah, yes, that’s the ticket, I tell myself, lowering my tense body into the soothing bubbles. No sense making this worse than it has to be. Who ever said a little case of writer’s block couldn’t be put off until tomorrow?

Ride Down Memory Lane

We visited our son Steve who lives in Piedmont, California, last Saturday. Steve’s lucky to live in a great area boasting dozens of wonderful little restaurants. It’s really hard to visit him without trying out yet another good eatery. That afternoon it was crepes, and they were delicious! Bob and Steve had chicken crepes, while I couldn’t resist one with strawberries, bananas and chocolate sauce. Out of this world!

After lunch, the three of us drove through the area where Bob grew up. It was like taking a walk down memory lane. Remarkably, my dear husband – who has trouble remembering our anniversary every July – could name just about every one of his then-neighbors along the entire block.

“This is the house we lived in when I was seven,” he proudly announces, gazing wistfully at a tiny, light grey stucco house with a handkerchief-sized front lawn and a driveway consisting of two narrow strips of worn concrete surrounded by gravel.

“It’s pretty small,” our son Steve comments, obviously unimpressed.

“It didn’t seem small then,” Bob counters, studying the house more closely. “I think it’s shrunk since we lived here.”

From there we drive a few blocks to a nearby grammar school that has definitely seen better days.

“I thought you said you walked a couple of miles to school every day,” says Steve skeptically.

“I did,” Bob replies. “They must have added a more direct route to the school since my time.”


“Uh, huh,” Steve grunts, rolling his eyes at me.

Next, we pass a liquor store that used to be an ice cream parlor, and next to it a kids’ arcade that had previously been the neighborhood movie theater.

“Now why did they go and change those?” Bob asks, staring morosely at yet another fading memory of his childhood. “Every Saturday we’d all meet to go to the matinee, then hit the ice cream parlor on our way home. The movie cost us a dime, and you could get a great hot fudge sundae for a quarter.”

“And for an extra nickel I’ll bet you could get tyrannosaurus rex to walk you home,” Steve says, stifling a chuckle.

“Hmph!” Bob grunts. “Laugh if you want, but the kids of today have no idea what they’re missing.”

About now, Steve realizes that this ride down memory lane has not lived up to his dad’s expectation. Our good-natured son looks guilty, then brightens as we pass a new Cold Stone Creamery that used to be a mom and pop grocery store.

“Hey, Dad,” he says, pointing at the creamery. “Stop here and I’ll treat you to a hot fudge sundae. For an extra quarter, I’ll bet they’ll throw a cherry on the top.”

“Look at it this way, Bob,” I say quietly as we follow our son inside. “Some day when Steve has kids, he’ll drive by this place and describe all the ice cream he used to be able to get for $5. Time for new memories, sweetheart. Time for new memories.”

The Inner Kid Inside Me

While my husband Bob and I were on the road last week, we kept busy doing book signings as well as visiting friends and family. Although we’re forced by the sheer number of people we want to see to keep our visits brief, we always have a great time!

Last Friday night we took our son Mike and his family (wife Norma and 5 young children, Melissa, Vaneza, Danielle, Mikey and Scarlet) to see “Alvin and the Chipmunks.” It was a huge success. I have to admit I didn’t expect to enjoy the film, but I actually did. I found myself laughing out loud, and a few times even singing along with the chipmunks! I think that’s the greatest thing about having children and grandchildren, you’re forced to revisit your childhood – although my husband Bob claims this is stretching things, since he insists I never left my childhood in the first place.

At first I wasn’t sure that I appreciated that remark; after all, I’m a serious author and screenwriter, right? Then I got to thinking about it and I had to admit that it was probably true. Actually, I guess there is still a lot of kid in me.

After all, I love to ride my bike along the beautiful Willamette River here in Eugene, I enjoy roller-blading, eating ice cream cones and watching 007, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Ring and Indiana Jones movies. And I’m usually the first person through the gate at Disneyland or Magic Mountain, and the last one to leave at night.

I love swings, slides, merry-go-rounds, roller coasters, building gingerbread houses with our grandchildren, and getting down on the floor and playing games with them. I’m still passionate about popcorn, popsicles, bubble gum and Christmas. I like to sing and dance and laugh at silly jokes – in fact, the sillier the better!


So I’m not the prim, sophisticated woman I expected to be when I reached “a certain age.” But you know, that’s all right. I love my life, along with all the wonderful people in it. Sure our family has problems – what family doesn’t – and we’ve hit some rough spots along the way. But as long as we keep the love alive and aren’t afraid to show it to each other, and as long as we always remember how to have fun, then we’ll get through it all okay.

And if that means keeping that inner kid alive inside me, so be it! After all, why would anyone want to leave behind something that’s so much fun?

On Blogging

When I started to blog, I promised myself that I would do at least three to four of them a week. That number didn’t sound too intimidating. I mean how hard could it be to write about your day, or your family, or your work? Well, I’m finding it really hard – much harder than I thought it would be!

I think I mentioned in an earlier blog that I never kept a diary as a young girl, or even as a teenager. I was never even a little bit tempted to pour my heart out on paper. For one thing I can’t write fast enough with a pen or pencil to keep up with my thoughts (I can barely do it on a keyboard!) For some reason it makes me really nervous to try. I’m a Gemini (the twins!) and my mind tends to take off in several different directions at once. Which one should I follow?

And when I was a kid just the idea of committing my deepest thoughts to writing gave me cold chills! What if someone found them? What if my MOTHER read them? YIKES!!

So, nothing much has changed now that I’m an adult, a mother and a grandmother. I still find it really hard to write what essentially amounts to a diary. Moreover, a diary sent out into cyberspace for the world to read! Very scary. While I want to be honest about what I write, it’s hard for me to share that much of myself. Maybe I still care too much about what other people think of me. I thought I’d gotten beyond that, but if I have, why is it so hard for me to put my feelings on paper?

In the end, though, maybe this is a good exercise for me – good for me to open up more and share some of my experiences, both in life and in my work. Maybe that’s why I became a novelist in the first place – so I could express all those thoughts and emotions through my characters. No wonder I love my job!

Anyway, a promise is a promise, even one made to yourself. Come hell or high water, I’m going to keep writing these blogs, even if it kills me.

Do any of you other bloggers feel this way? Or is it just me?