This is a dedication to Steve McQueen's sweater worn in The Thomas Crown Affair. I was learning to knit when I saw this movie at a drive through theatre and as soon as I saw it, I wanted one. This movie was shown years after its release as a combo three movie Steve McQueen movie package at the drive-in. I say that so it's clear that I did not watch this movie when I was 12.

I was just 15 or 16, but the scene where he and Faye Dunaway are dune buggying caught my attention for different reasons than my friends. I was with my boyfriend and a another couple. While they were oohing and ahhing the dune buggy, I was trying to catch a glimpse of his sweater. Shows you were my priorities were. If I remember correctly, the sweater was hidden most of the scene. Leave it to me to be the one in my group who kept talking about it. No one else had a clue as to what he was wearing. 

Later, I spent time hunting down a pattern. I wish I still had that pattern as it's nearly impossible to find an exact match for his sweater. My research tells me that it is a Collins Family Irish Aran pattern. Unfortunately, I found that out after I tossed together one of my own. 

The above picture of my sweater in progress is a sloppy version of McQueen's pattern. The worst part is done, though. Front and back - yeah. Two sleeves, collar, and a stitch the whole thing together and hopefully it will fit.

One of the hardest things about guessing a pattern is that the size will be all wrong. Maybe a blog is in the future of the finished product fitting nicely on yours truly. 

Patti

Oh - ps - I may have found the Collins design after I started the sweater, but I was able to convert the sleeves to match McQueen's. I've taken notes, so my next sweater will look more like the one he is wearing. 

 I may have started this cozy mystery a bit late in life, but that doesn't mean that I don't want a lengthy career. It took me this long to figure it and get the courage to bear my soul on paper. I'm not going to stop now just because I received a few rejections.

 

 My father passed away when I was fourteen years old. I still mourn his loss to this day. Daddy was one of those fathers who could see deep into your soul. He told me things about myself that I didn't see. He loved my sense of goofball humor and was the only person in my entire life to this day who would play act my terrible impersonation of Curly from the Three Stooges. We had a thing about who did the best Curly shuffle, which always ended up in stomach cramping laughter. But humor came easy for him. He loved to change the pronunciation of words like Cadillac to cadillyyak or Neil Diamondisagirlsbestfriend. Plus he had his own way of describing menial things like a belch. It became 'excuse the hog, the pig's out walking.' Dad was a writer, director, photographer, and producer for the US Army. Many of the educational films shown to the cadets were done by him as well as the documented funerals of high ranked officers and politicians. His military pictures were published in many books and encyclopedias. Even now when I do a search on WW2, Korean War, and Vietnam, I find pictures from his catalog. The original negatives can be found in the stacks of his pictorial collection kept in my care. He was a close friend to comedians of his era, including Henny Youngman, who would like to joke on the Carson show about 'stealing' one of Dad's jokes. Making up jokes was second nature to him. It is from my father that I inherited a goofy personality as well as the love of music. Dad even named me after his friend and one of his favorite singers, Patti Page. 

But one thing Daddy kept instilling in me during our short time together was to never give up hope on one's dreams. He saw a written talent in me that even my 4th grade teacher did not see. She humiliated me in front of the class claiming that I had plagiarised a story I had written. After consoling me, he stormed into her classroom. Clad in full dress uniform as he had an award ceremony that day, he was quite the picture as he let her know that honesty was the core of our family. He never raised his voice to her, but his deep tone was enough to shake the paint off the walls. In his log book, he showed her the dates where he took me to the library, the park, and several other places I needed to go to research this two page story. Dad taught me about researching my subjects in order to create reality for the reader. I was only nine years old at that time, but I knew the importance of showing, not telling, a story. 

Dad died at the young age of 51. Too sudden for any of us to comprehend. And when he died, my dreams died as well. That is until recently when I finished my first mystery manuscript. You see my father always told me that I would become an author one day. Even as young as six, he would walk me through the library telling me that one day he would see my name up on those shelves.

Because of him, I have written stories all my life. We even wrote a musical together. I found it years ago and cringed at how bad it was. But Daddy loved it. He even taught me the power of dialogue and the proper way to lay out a screen play complete with shot directions. I can't look at a film today without noticing how the director did his camera angles. Daddy showed me how to spot a story in just about anything the eye could see, the nose could smell, the ears could hear, and the mouth could taste. I was to describe all of those sensations as we sat together eating our favorite banana splits with chocolate ice cream and crushed pineapple. I blame my chocolate addiction on him. He loved hot chocolate on a cold night. It's a habit that I never stopped.

When I turned 60, it sucker punched me that I could not leave this plane without completing a manuscript. If not for me, then for him. And, I mean full stop polished, done, and dusted, as he would say. At this point, the only things I had published were newspaper commentaries, three articles in a free local hip paper, and the many auto insurance user manuals that I was responsible for as a technical writer. I don't think any of those would warrant his praise as much as seeing his daughter's name up on a library shelf. 

I gathered several pictures of him together and prayed for guidance. It may sound daft to those who do not believe in muses, but I truly believe that it was his spirit that watched over me as I wrote Croaked: A Ribbiting Murder. Suddenly, I was filled with belief that this book would get finished, unlike the many partials that sit on my computer and/or the shelf in the unused sitting room left unattended since my mother's passing nine years ago

. If you have ever read Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon, you will know that I am not alone in this belief. While I could only hope to learn enough from her work & writing style to attempt a smidgen of her talent, I do know what she meant when she noted how it was her father's spirit who guided her during the writing of that book. 

My book is dedicated to a father whom I hope will see my name on those library shelves, even if it is in spirit only.

Patti

  

 

I always knew that getting a book published would be difficult. It's probably why I have postponed getting into this field. Yes, I could go indie and self-publish. But, I worry that the three years of hard work just getting here would end up only on family and friends' kindles. I have the patience, I just don't know if I have the time to wait this game out. And, even though I am late to this party, I still want a career as a writer to define me.

You see, I have a health condition that can either sit dormant or get aggressive. Oh, I don't expect to fall off the perch anytime soon. I've felt quite well lately and plan to live another two to three decades, God willing. I also plan on completing a full series of The Athens, Ga Mysteries - whatever that means. No fewer than three books, for sure. I will ride the writer horse no matter how slow or fast that clock ticks.

In book one (now sitting on agents desks worldwide) I focused a lot on researching several elements that are key to the story. The book, Croaked: A Ribbiting Murder, started out as just a blurb. Four lines! Not the kind of blurb that would sell it, of course. It was just a form of guidance for me. Hated boss found in frog pond. Protagonist must solve crime while juggling mean, aging Mom no senior home will take. Use of endangered plant found nearby is stuffed up dead man's nose. Music, music, music. 

I admit, it wasn't much to start with, but it was a start. You see I had grown bored with my life. Doctors said I shouldn't work so I was put on disability. While my hands may shake and my balance is even more questionable at times, my mind was just fine. Well, quirky, but mentally fine. My memory likes to trip me up, but that's probably typical of someone who has six decades of life jammed into those brain cells. 

So, I pulled out all the ideas I have had in the past for the book I wanted to write. But those ideas needed researching. The place. Where? I talked to other authors about how they decided on their book settings. I asked about fictional v real. I got positives and negatives on both sides. Then one lovely lady triggered a bell. "If you could live anywhere in the world or outer worlds, where would it be?" She followed that up with, "What interests you? What would your dream life look like? If you can't actually go there, create it." Sage advice. 

Enter Athens, Georgia. It took me a test drive through the town that sits about 50 miles from my home to convince me that this was the place. The streets we drove down were flanked in hundred year old oak trees followed by blocks of sidewalks. The first houses I saw were homes probably built in the 40s or 50s called Craftsman homes. They had the welcoming open front porches that we think of as typically southern. That charm continued with the colorful choices on doors and gables. Colors ranging from deep purple, to brick red, to bright yellow. I loved it. 

Next was checking out the downtown area. No decent cozy leaves out the center of their town. Plus, I had to figure out where my main character would work. We drove up and down Prince Street, then onto Clayton, and curled around where the 40 Watt Club sits. The 40 Watt Club! Here (well maybe not this exact location) is where the roots of the 80s college music all started. I was excited. As a fan of college radio since I was in high school in the 70s, I felt that this was my first welcome to Athens moment. 

I went home and wrote out my outline for the book. More research was needed about Athens and the outer areas to fill in the blank patches in my outline. For years I have had a picture of the Iron Horse on my computer screen. I never really knew why. It was something I came upon just by happenstance. Never been there. Wasn't even sure where 'there' was. I saw a picture of this odd piece of art and fell in love. When I pulled up a search of  'places to see' in Athens, I was surprised to find the Iron Horse on that list. We had to have driven right past it when we came home the back way. Was this an omen? As a person who welcomes 'clues' and 'signs' of guidance, I once again marked this as an augural sign. 

Step by step, things just fell into place. I met the right people at the right time who offered valuable input regarding Athens, the music scene, and the lifestyle. It's those people who drove this book home and I couldn't be more grateful for their assistance. Plus, Athens has an allure that stands out from many southern towns.

Although the draft took several turns during the process of writing, editing, and rewriting, it did eventually end up with characters that were fun, entertaining, ruthless, and ornery (yes, I am talking about that mean mom). Who, by the way, I am told was hated by my beta readers up to the end when she became one of their top favorites. While I would have liked my MC to be the top fav character, it turns out that her assistant, Flo, the ex-cop, steampunk, moonlighting singer of a Concrete Blonde cover band wins hands down. It's the diversity of the town that makes the perfect setting for this series.

Patti

 I have fought getting a blog for eons. Well, maybe not eons, but years. Well, maybe not years... but, here I am just as those agents I've queried have suggested. This is a work in progress - as am I.