My 17th book, The Merry Widow Murders, came out last year, and my publisher said, "get out there!" And provided me with a bunch of places to go.
I like my publisher. And I like book clubs. It's fun to meet with like-minded people, and discuss our mutual love of mystery books. Usually, you hear good things about your novel, and I've learned to wear protective clothing around my ego for those times when things don't go quite as planned.
Witness the crazy, loopy scene that took place last month, at a particularly large, mixed book club gathering. Bless them all. They gave me a story to tell in perpetuity.
It all started with research.
(What follows is verbatim, I swear. I had it fact-checked by one of the women :)
I explain the exhausting amount of research involved in writing The Merry Widow Murders, which is set in 1928. All about the food and drinks of the time, fashions, music that just came out, fuel used by a 1920s era ocean liner, social mores...
Man of a certain age shoots up his hand and says: "Speaking of research. You wrote that they sat on a bale of hay. I looked it up, and hay balers didn't come out until 1938. So there couldn't have been bales of hay in 1928."
One could call his tone triumphant and be accused of understatement.
Sounds of silence. A woman's voice says, "And here we go..."
Another man: "Didn't they call them bales before?"
Me: "I can tell you that my father worked on a farm before WW11 and he called them bales of hay."
At which point, every man in the room grabs his phone to look stuff up.
Man 2: "Here it is! John, you're wrong. Bales have been used to describe hay since forever."
Man 3: "Hah! The fur traders called them bales of pelts way before 1928. You're wrong, John. WRONG."
Woman: "Can we talk about the book please?"
Me: "Wait a minute. The Merry Widow Murders takes place on an ocean liner. There aren't any bales of hay in that book."
John (grumping): "Well, I read it somewhere."
Me, thinking fast: "You may have read it in The Goddaughter's Revenge, from an old series, maybe ten books ago. It takes place during Halloween in today's time period, not 1928."
Another woman's voice: "Oh for the love of Gawd..."
Man 2: "Speaking of 1928. You realize that you're only talking about a small slice of society in this book. It's all about rich people in first class. The elites." (He barely keeps from spitting.) "Hardly representative of the life of a normal person in 1928. People on farms."
"Baling hay," says another man, snickering.
Woman: "For Heaven's sake, Roy! That's the people we want to read about!"
Man 3, still looking at phone: "About those hay bales-"
"ENOUGH ABOUT THE HAY BALES!" yell several women in unison.
Melodie Campbell promises there are no bales of hay in The Silent Film Star Murders, out next winter.
