Why I Write, Take Two

My book editor, Ashleigh Evans, is a former junior high school friend from the 1950s, who I knew as Betty Smith (this was before her career as a performer, hence the name change). We lost touch for many years until one afternoon in the 1970s I was watching my late husband play tennis and a man walked up to me and asked, “Did you used to be Sue Moore?” He was Bill Smith, a local attorney. But I remembered him as Billy, Betty’s annoying kid brother.

I had an opportunity to see Ashleigh not long after that when she was back east and was in our area to visit Bill and his family (she now lives in the San Francisco Bay area). Bill’s daughter, Kristen, has followed in her aunt’s footsteps and is a talented performer who is now on Broadway, her lifelong dream.

But I digress. Ashleigh read my first novel, How I Grew Up, and contacted me to offer her services as copy editor, looking for errors in spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Over the course of nine books she has become much more. She also catches plot holes and advises me when I veer off track, so she has also become my content editor and in a way, my partner. We exchange ideas. I’m very fortunate because she will take the book as I write, a chapter at a time, something very rarely done.

Recently I sent her what is the climactic chapter for my work in progress, The Case of the Toxic Tenor, a murder mystery. When she returned the manuscript with her corrections/changes/comments she remarked in the email: “When you're writing exciting, fast-paced scenes like this, do you tend to type faster and faster?!”

That made me laugh, because I certainly do exactly that. But I do more. The world around me recedes and I am living right there, in that moment, in that place. This particularly scene takes place in 1964 Cincinnati, in the lobby of the Netherland Hilton Hotel. I was in that lobby a number of times when I lived there, and had a vague memory of its elegance, and of the Palm Court Restaurant just off to one side. But this is an intense scene and I needed more. Internet searches provided some great photographs and helped put me there. My remarkable police procedure consultant, retired Major Crimes Detective Lieutenant Stephen Kramer of the Cincinnati Police Department, included detailed narration to accompany photos he sent. I was right there in that lobby, watching the scene unfold as I wrote.

I had an absolute blast.

When I am writing I have the time of my life. And it’s immensely rewarding when I occasionally hear from someone who has enjoyed one of my books, whether through an Amazon review, an email, a note, or a comment in a parking lot (something like “I borrowed one of your books from my neighbor and I just loved it!”). I started writing in May of 2013 and it has become as essential to me as breathing (I know I’ve said that before, but it’s true). I’m sure I’m not that unusual and many other writers share my passion.

Sometimes people ask me how to write. Just do it. Sit down, use your computer, use a pencil and a pad of paper … just put the words down. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It won’t be perfect. Get the story out of your head. You can go back later and fix things. And you will, many, many, many times. But my advice is this: don’t read a bunch of books on “how to write a book.” Just start writing. Even if it’s slow going at first.

Without my computer, the internet, and some incredible people kind enough to generously share their knowledge and expertise about subjects I know little about (Lt. Kramer is a gold mine), I couldn’t write. I know that. And when I look at the nine books I have in print, I’m kind of stunned.

If you have any desire to write, try it. It’s cathartic, it’s escapist, it’s freeing, it’s gratifying and satisfying and fulfilling. Once you get into it, you’ll feel alive in a way you never have before. You’re creating something. Just think of the implications of that. Using your ability to produce something entirely new. Oh, sure, I know similar stories have been told numerous times. But not this exact story, in these exact words.

That’s why I write.

Oh, just in case you’d like to read any of my books, the quickest and easiest place to go is my Amazon author page. You can check out the reviews while you’re there. And if you do read a book … a review is like gold to us indie authors.  

https://www.amazon.com/Susan-Moore-Jordan/e/B00IBZ731U/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Power Couple: Augusta and Malcolm

Writing about Augusta McKee, former opera singer, professor of music, fashionista, amateur sleuth, known for her independence and her stilettos, has elicited some great responses from readers:

“Professor Augusta McKee, just introduced in Susan Moore Jordan’s mystery The Case of the Slain Soprano, will take her place among the lady detectives you wish you knew in person. She’s a no-nonsense voice teacher in spike heels, tough and tender and smart as all get-out.”

“Augusta McGee, (Jordan’s) heroine, is well-drawn for us and we are soon thoroughly intrigued by this well-dressed and extremely well-shod woman in midlife with many roles - professor of music, voice teacher, stage play director, and supportive mentor to faculty and students.”

When Augusta crosses paths with experienced Homicide Detective Malcolm Mitchell, there has to be much more to what begins as an adversarial encounter.

“Augusta, a strong force to be reckoned with, isn’t the type to take bad news lying down. Instead, she decides to do a bit of snooping on her own, especially when her red stilettos and sassy wit cross paths with the hunky, smart homicide detective, Malcolm Mitchell. Sparks sure do fly!”

“The beautiful, spiked-heel McKee encounters romance with an unlikely match (who turns out to share her love of opera, no surprise there!) in the detective assigned to the case, Malcolm Mitchell. McKee makes a strong protagonist and I liked her instantly as she asserts herself in defiance of the detective, who seems a bit overwhelmed by her, but later regains his composure sufficiently to woo her.”

While that initial encounter may at first appear to be instant dislike, it turns out to be a great deal more. Augusta’s thoughts about the detective evolve, and this scene at Linnea Murphy’s funeral could be the beginning of their romance. (Informational note: the books are set in Cincinnati in the 1960s.)

The Case of the Slain Soprano

Excerpt from Chapter 7

Arriving at the church, Augusta was somewhat taken aback to see a number of police officers on hand, including Detective Malcolm Mitchell and his partner, Jim Edmonds.

“Crowd control, Detective?” she said to Mitchell.

“Something like that,” he replied, rather curtly.

“It appears you’re looking for someone.”

He glanced at her briefly, continuing to scan the crowd as he spoke. “One of our suspects has cut and run. There’s a chance he might show up today.”

Augusta had to catch her breath and realized she was shaking slightly; the emotions she was already experiencing intensified. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it is.”

“You suppose correctly, Professor McKee.” He gazed directly at her and said quietly, “You should take your seat, don’t you think?”

She nodded and walked down the aisle to the soothing strains of the prelude, Mascagni’s haunting “Intermezzo” from Cavalleria Rusticana, to sit with Sisters Norbert and Vincent. As Augusta listened to the angelic Fauré Requiem, she found herself from time to time studying the crowd which filled the church. Who are they looking for?

The sopranos began to sing the lovely “Pie Jesu” and Augusta’s mind took her back to the concert in October when Linnea had performed it flawlessly, and she let the tears flow. The mass concluded; Father Culhane spoke of Linnea with love and compassion, and there were few dry eyes in the congregation.

The casket was wheeled to the front of the church and removed, and the congregation began to exit to the gentle, ethereal strains of Theodore Dubois’ “In Paradisum.” Augusta was jostled slightly from behind, and she glanced back to apologize but the person behind her hurried forward.

Augusta almost stopped still as she stared at the woman who had brushed past her. She was wearing too heavy a coat for this late April day and had a scarf wound around her head. With a shock Augusta realized it wasn’t a woman at all; it was a man. When she reached the steps leading from the church she received a second shock: after a brief scuffle, the “woman” was being arrested by Mitchell and Edmonds. Augusta hurried down the steps and Terry Jenkins locked eyes with her.

Terry’s voice broke as he called out, “Professor McKee, you know I didn’t kill Linnea. I loved her.” Detective Edmonds pressed the fugitive into a police car, which sped away fairly quickly. While Augusta realized the police had managed to avoid too much of an uproar, there was some consternation among the mourners who had witnessed the arrest. Furious, she confronted Mitchell.

“Was that absolutely necessary?” She struggled to keep her voice under control.

“Unfortunately, it was. I’d have preferred to arrest him elsewhere, but if we hadn’t done it here, he would have been on the run again.”

“I simply can’t believe that boy killed Linnea.”

“Well, he sure didn’t help his case by taking off the way he did. Not smart to come to the funeral, either. And he compounded his problems by taking a swing at Detective Edmonds.”

Augusta’s jumbled emotions had been in high gear all morning, and she found herself weeping and unable to speak. To her surprise, Detective Mitchell reacted with sympathy.

“I’m sorry this happened, Augusta.” He handed her his handkerchief. “I know you loved Linnea and this has all been difficult for you.”

She still couldn’t speak. Malcolm Mitchell put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “The Sisters are waiting to take you to the cemetery,” he said quietly, his mouth close to her ear. “You need to be there for the conclusion of the funeral.”

Still clutching the handkerchief, Augusta allowed Sister Vincent to lead her to one of the limousines that had been hired for the day.

The car pulled away slowly as Augusta glanced through the back window at Mitchell. How caring he was with me. I didn’t expect that.

The Case of the Slain Soprano and The Case of the Disappearing Director, Books #1 and #2 in “the Augusta McKee mysteries,” are both available on Amazon, Kindle and paperback:

https://www.amazon.com/Susan-Moore-Jordan/e/B00IBZ731U/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Covers by Taylor Van Kooten

What Century Is This, Anyway?

A couple of days ago I was working through a knotty police procedural plot point in my current w.i.p. I knew what I wanted to do but wasn’t sure it was allowable in 1964 Cincinnati. I’m lucky enough to have access through email to a retired homicide detective from the CPD, who, while he was too young to be a cop in 1964, is also a historian and an archivist. For most of that day my head was in the twentieth century, even though the rest of me had to remember to do things like feed the cat and pay bills in the twenty-first century.

It makes for interesting experiences at times. I like to zip through my local supermarket and grab stuff as I do. Unfortunately, my characters Augusta McKee and Malcolm Mitchell may be having a lively discussion in my head at the same time. It’s distracting and at times I’ve barely avoided colliding with fellow shoppers. I guess people who know me just think of me as the crazy writer lady.

I like spending time in the twentieth century, especially in Cincinnati, a town that owns my heart. I’ve also discovered Google Maps. Have you tried them? I can drive through that entire city and drop to ground level to admire the scenery from time to time. It’s the next best thing to actually being there.

There’s no way I could do any of this without the internet, that marvelous invention that certainly wasn’t part of my world when I actually lived in the twentieth century. Sometimes I pick up my 6S Plus iPhone and just stare at it in wonderment. It’s even better than that gizmo the Star Trek crew used, except I’m not sure it could “beam me up” – but in all honestly, I’ve never tried that.

When I think of everything that’s happened in my long lifetime (I was born in 1938), it’s positively mind-blowing. I like technology, and I’m happy I’ve lived long enough to enjoy all the benefits it offers. On the other hand, escaping into the past has its benefits. The world isn’t spinning so quickly. People take more time to look at each other, and to listen to each other.

One plot point that I had to research with my first Augusta McKee mystery … how did the cops contact each other car to car in 1963? Answer: they couldn’t. Messages had to be relayed through headquarters. No body cams, no way to communicate with each other individually once they left the patrol car. But you know what? They still tracked down the bad guys.

Sometimes I feel I live in “the best of all possible worlds” … all the benefits of twenty-first century life, but with an easy escape into the last century.

I guess I am the “crazy writer lady”!

THE INSPIRATION FOR MY BOOK “ELI’S HEART”

Over the past weekend I was reminded how much some readers have loved my second novel, Eli’s Heart. A reader bought a second copy because she wanted other people to read it but didn’t want to lend out her only copy. That’s a great compliment for an author and very much appreciated, and I thought I’d remind readers about the late great pianist Samuel Sanders who inspired the book.

Teralogy of Fallot, the heart condition my character Eli Levin lives with, is a complicated and frightening disease which is present at birth. Physicians have been aware of it for centuries. According to Wikipedia, "It was described in 1672 by Niels Stensen, in 1773 by Edward Sandifort, and in 1888 by the French physician Etienne-Louis Arthur Fallot, after whom it is named." 

Eli’s Heart was inspired by a friendship I had decades ago with a brilliant teenage pianist born with this congenital heart condition. Samuel Sanders was fifteen when I first met him and heard him play. He was visiting a sister who lived in my hometown and he came to my house several times, and we listened to recordings of orchestral music, played piano duets (which was definitely daunting for me!), talked about books and baseball. His activities were restricted because of his congenital heart defect.

With a lot of help from Dr. Aarti Asnani, a cardiologist with Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, I finally developed a grasp of the condition. There are four separate defects of the heart: a hole between the lower chambers (ventricles) of the heart, which means un-oxygenated blood is mixing with oxygenated blood; a narrowing of the valve between the right ventricle and the lungs, which means not enough blood is getting to the lungs to be replenished with oxygen; a thickening of the wall of the right ventricle; and an aorta which is misplaced and is drawing blood from both ventricles. 

The result is a considerable reduction in the amount of oxygenated blood distributed to the body. The average person receives between 90 and 95% oxygenated blood. TOF patients receive sometimes less than 50%. Breathing is a struggle. Any physical activity, even walking, becomes difficult and can be life-threatening. Many children died in infancy, or did not survive puberty. Cyanosis (blue coloring of the skin, especially fingers, toes and lips) is a primary symptom.

In 1944, Drs. Alfred Blalock and Helen Taussig, with considerable help from Blalock’s assistant Vivien Thomas, developed a procedure to alleviate these children’s suffering. A shunt was created by attaching a branch of the aorta to the pulmonary artery which increased the flow of oxygenated blood. Sometimes this increase was dramatic; sometimes enough to at least ease their symptoms. From my understanding, patients who survived the procedure lived more normal and longer lives, even though the heart was not repaired. The Blalock-Taussig procedure was considered “palliative” ─ it eased the worst of the symptoms, but all four defects of the heart were still there.

About ten years later an open-heart surgery (called the “total correction” or “total repair”) was performed which patched the hole between the ventricles and widened the opening to the lungs, giving the patients a chance at a better quality – and quantity – of life. Over the past decades, as TOF patients have lived longer (some into their seventies and even eighties) other surgical procedures have been developed and refined, and a range of medications also exists to help treat the condition. It was at first considered a congenital heart defect. It is presently considered a congenital heart disease, a life-long struggle with a heart which can never be made “normal.” From my understanding, there is no one “standard” procedure for these patients. One comment from Dr. Asnani in our extensive correspondence stands out in my mind:

“With regard to treatment options for (adult) TOF patients, it’s definitely not a straightforward decision to pursue surgery, so we will often try to manage with medications for as long as possible.  Newer technologies like cardiac MRI are helping us figure out when the heart dysfunction is progressing to the point where heart surgery is absolutely necessary to prevent a further decline, though we’re still wrestling with defining the exact timeline.”

One of the first things Samuel Sanders told me was that he didn’t expect to live past the age of thirty. Other than that, and telling me about the cyanosis and that he’d had surgery, he didn’t discuss his condition and I didn’t ask questions. We concentrated on enjoying the time we had together.

After hearing him play–brilliantly–the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto a few months later, I lost touch with him. Some thirty years later I met a young man who was studying accompanying with Sam at Juilliard, so he’d have been in his early forties at that time. His student also told me Sanders had opted to work professionally as an accompanist rather than pursuing a career as a virtuoso pianist. I was very glad to hear he had survived past the age of thirty and was still sharing his extraordinary gift.

I thought of him again when I watched the HBO film “Something the Lord Made” (highly recommended) and wondered how he was. Internet searches revealed that he had died at the age of sixty-two. He’d had the B-T procedure when he was nine and two additional surgeries (the total correction and a heart valve replacement), and eventually not one but two heart transplants. The second one failed, sadly. While not a household name, he had a long and illustrious career as a collaborative pianist and performed with some great musicians who definitely ARE household names. I list a few of his many recordings in the discography at the end of the book.

My book is fiction, and my character Eli Levin is the product of my imagination. I did not know Sam Sanders beyond that brief friendship when we were both little more than children. However, his passion for music certainly had a lasting impact on me; he was indeed an extraordinarily gifted pianist and musician. We don’t meet many musical prodigies in our lifetime, and if and when we do, we never forget them. The fact that this one also had a damaged heart made him even more unforgettable.

cover design: Tristan Flanagan

Eli’s Heart is available on Amazon as both paperback and e-book.

https://www.amazon.com/Elis-Heart-Carousel-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00LE5MNAK/

 (first posted in 2014)

Augusta McKee: Singer, Teacher, Director, Amateur Sleuth

Hearing from readers how much they like a character from one of my books is pretty nifty, to say the least. A number of readers fell in love with Jake Cameron from the Cameron saga, Memories of Jake and Man with No Yesterdays. Every reader I’ve heard from about my most recent release, The Case of the Slain Soprano, has been impressed with Augusta McKee.

“It’s 1963. Former opera singer and now a professor of music, Augusta McKee finds herself in the middle of a murder investigation. Not only has one of her students been murdered, but now she’s short one leading lady for the school’s annual musical. However, Augusta, a strong force to be reckoned with, isn’t the type to take bad news lying down. Instead, she decides to do a bit of snooping on her own, especially when her red stilettos and sassy wit cross paths with the hunky, smart homicide detective, Malcolm Mitchell.”

“McKee makes a strong protagonist and I liked her instantly as she asserts herself in defiance of the detective, who seems a bit overwhelmed by her, but later regains his composure sufficiently to woo her …  I hope Jordan will choose to continue the McKee character in future books.”

Writing a cozy mystery … a totally different genre from my historical novels, which tend to cover a long period of time and a lot of life challenges … was more fun than I expected. Rather than putting Augusta in a small town,  I chose instead to situate her in a city I love, Cincinnati, and a community of musicians and educators within that city. Augusta came to Cincinnati to study voice at the Conservatory of Music (exactly as I had, many decades ago); studied and sang in Europe for a time (which I did not do, so I envy her that experience!). She eventually returned to Cincinnati as a member of the voice faculty for her alma mater and taught as well at a Catholic women’s college, Cliffside College.

“Augusta McKee, (the) heroine, is well-drawn for us and we are soon thoroughly intrigued by this well-dressed and extremely well-shod woman in midlife with many roles - professor of music, voice teacher, stage play director, and supportive mentor to faculty and students.”

I understand Augusta pretty well, even though her personal life definitely does not parallel mine. And physically she’s everything I am not … she’s 5’9” and slender. She also wears stilettos. I will admit to owning a pair of those when I was young. But Augusta and I both have a passion for helping young singers discover their gifts. And we both enjoy the challenges of directing a stage musical or an opera.

 “Augusta McKee takes her place among the memorable women of the mystery genre -- imposing in her height (enhanced by her beloved stiletto shoes), her no-nonsense approach to life, her love of music, and her bulldog determination to find answers when confronted with a mystery. She meets her match in Homicide Detective Malcolm Mitchell…and the adventures begin!” 

The Case of the Slain Soprano (Kindle edition) is currently on sale on Amazon for the measly price of $0.99. Sale runs until 8 a.m. September 4. Grab a copy now and enjoy!

cover design by Taylor van Kooten

Order now: https://www.amazon.com/Slain-Soprano-Augusta-McKee-mysteries/dp/1718802420/

Or visit my website: www.susanmoorejordan.com

Music to My Ears

Have I mentioned how much I love to write? It never ceases to amaze me how, at this point in my life, I have found a new passion. After a lifetime as a musician, stage director, and teacher, I am actively creating. I loved what I did (and still do, I continue to have a private voice studio), but that was developing other people’s talent, organizing other people’s talent, recreating the original works of composers, lyricists, and writers. This work is from me—heart, mind, and soul.

Marketing is something else entirely. It’s time-consuming, requires some expenditure of money I don’t really have (if you want to write, do not do it with the idea you will become rich and famous!), and just plain tedious. I still don’t “get” Twitter and now I’ve established an Instagram account and really don’t know how to use it effectively either.

A very helpful tool in marketing is reader reviews that appear on Amazon. I have some reviews, and I’m happy that some of my readers have enthusiastically shared their appreciation for my books. I wish more would do so, but I can’t seem to find the magic formula to make that happen. Reviews are like a standing ovation for a writer. They don’t need to be lengthy, but if they are positive and encouraging, they may inspire a potential reader to buy a book!

One thing I am very grateful for are those readers who, while not posting a review, send me one. Readers who take the time to write an email, or a message on Facebook, or a note they put in an envelope and put a stamp on to tell me they appreciated one of my books. Here are a few I received recently, and these truly are music to my ears and a great encouragement.

From a neighbor:

“Finished Eli's Heart last night. It was beautifully written and so very emotional. It touched my heart and made me cry. Just thinking about it makes me tear up. I can see why some people might think it would be good as a series, but I prefer being able to get to the next part immediately! I actually like longer stories when they are good ones, because I don't want them to end. You can be very proud of that book!”

 

From a fellow musician (who was reading while she was part of a pit orchestra during an extended run of a musical theater production):

“Oh no! I've finished all your books and I still have 4 shows left!! They were absolutely magnificent. I'm glad I waited till they were all published to read them straight through. I'm horribly impatient when it comes to wonderful writing! Thank you for sharing your ‘new’ gift with the world!!”

From a local resident who participated in some of the shows I directed:

“I recently read your book, ‘More Fog, Please’ and enjoyed it thoroughly. I remember so many of those wonderful plays you directed over the years and participated in several. You have enriched our community with your gifts. Best wishes on your writing career now!”

Thank you, readers, for making the time to respond to my work. It’s appreciated more than you know!

Please visit my website www.susanmoorejordan.com

for links to all my books

Chuck Vincent: The Warrior Who Showed Me the Vietnam War

One of the most vital tools in an author’s toolbox is networking. It helps us learn about topics we know little or nothing about, and the people we connect with take us places we could otherwise never go.

When writing Memories of Jake, I came to a point where all my research made me realize I needed a personal voice to help me better understand the Vietnam War; a “guide” to show me more about the military and how it worked. I had not intended to write a book about the conflict, yet when I met my characters, Andrew and Jake Cameron, it was inevitable they would both fight in that conflict.

The Vietnam War. Enormous, sprawling, confusing, conflicting. A war that wasn’t a war … at least it was never declared a war. A war this country is still struggling with. A war in which our warriors fought valiantly, in which far too many young American lives were lost; and those who came home returned to a country ripped apart by the war no one seemed to understand.

It was my great good fortune to come into contact by virtue of a mutual friend with retired U.S. Army Lt. Col. Charles J. Vincent, Corps of Engineers, who served a tour in Vietnam with Special Forces. Col. Vincent had previously been a member of the Marine Corps and served in the Korean War as well. So it might be said he was a warrior twice over.

Col. Chuck addressed my dozens of questions patiently and thoroughly, contacting other veterans when he felt it would be helpful. He also read through the passages on the war making corrections and suggestions. And when I was writing Man with No Yesterdays he repeated this process, but additionally gave me a scenario for Jake’s last mission in which he suffered the traumatic brain injury which changed his life so drastically.

Col. Vincent’s life would make a good book in itself, and I would hope he’s writing his memoirs. Originally from New Jersey, he attended and eventually graduated from Drexel University in Philadelphia. That’s where the networking I spoke of took place; a former voice student is now a vice-president at Drexel, and when I mentioned to her mother I needed a de facto “military consultant” for Memories of Jake, she contacted her daughter who put me in touch with Col. Vincent. He now lives in Mississippi but frequently visits Philadelphia for various events at Drexel, and I had the chance to speak with this often-decorated warrior personally while writing my first Cameron brothers’ book.

In a recent interview I commented on the value of reaching out to people in exactly this way … finding an expert who is generously willing to share their expertise with an author. My comment was that each book I’ve written has been a journey, and I’ve had some exceptional tour guides on these journeys. The two books about the Cameron brothers were a long and difficult journey, and I am forever grateful to Col. Chuck for being my guide.

On March 29, National Vietnam Veterans Day will be observed for only the second time, since the bill declaring the day was signed on the eve of the holiday in 2017. I am honored to be part of a local observance of this day being held on March 25, a multi-arts celebration—art, literature, and music—at the Pocono Cinema and Cultural Center in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. At our observation we are honoring all our military veterans. An art exhibit by six local veterans will be on display. Music, including songs from the Vietnam War Era, will be performed. Staged readings from my Cameron brothers’ books will be part of the program. No admission charge. My heartfelt thanks to all who served and continue to serve this nation.

WRITE WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW

We writers hear: “write what you know,” and that’s probably good advice. But even better, I think, is this: “Write what you don’t know.”

Every time I’ve gone on a journey to gain knowledge about a subject, I have found that people are remarkably generous about sharing their expertise. This was true with my second novel, Eli’s Heart; my fourth novel, Jamie’s Children, and of novels number five and six, Memories of Jake and Man with No Yesterdays.

I’m currently at work on a totally new genre, a “cozy mystery” (I think this book falls within the guidelines, though there’s definitely a budding romance throughout the book. Maybe a “cozy romantic mystery”?). My as yet unnamed novel takes place in Cincinnati in 1963, on the campus of a women’s college. I lived in Cincinnati—a city I loved—at that time, but fortunately was never on the wrong side of the law. Consequently, I had no idea how law enforcement in the city of Cincinnati worked.

What to do? Well, I couldn’t write without my computer and Google, and searches took me to a perfect place: The Greater Cincinnati Police Museum and retired CPD Lieutenant Stephen Kramer, Director of the Museum, which is staffed entirely by volunteers. The Museum’s website is impressive, and photos show displays of guns, badges, murder weapons, and even uniforms from different eras, as well as newspapers, plaques, and other memorabilia. The organization has a Facebook page as well, which attests to visitors finding it worthwhile to stop in and browse. It’s a place I hope someday to visit.

  Their website also contains a gallery of tributes to fallen law enforcement officers not just from Cincinnati, but also from the eight-county surrounding area that makes up Greater Cincinnati. Lt. Kramer authored these, and those I have read are factual and moving accounts of not just the incidents in which these brave policemen and women died, but also the story of who they were and of what happened to wives, children, and other family members following the loss of their loved one. There are over two hundred entries.

 Equally important for my novel, Lt. Kramer has generously and eloquently shared his thoughts as a former homicide detective to help me better understand my principal male character. Detective Malcolm Mitchell is a homicide detective and very different from the men who have appeared in my other books, who are mostly musicians and artists. It’s engrossing to begin to understand Malcolm Mitchell. The more I get to know him, the more I like him and appreciate what he does.

My female protagonist is a musician, teacher, and stage director for two colleges in Cincinnati, so I am combining what I don’t know—but am learning about—with what I know well. While Augusta McKee may bear some resemblance to the author in that she is a singer, a voice teacher, and a stage director, Augusta, independent and self-sufficient, is a woman who has never married, loves fashion, and has had a sometime career as an opera singer. She’s also five feet nine inches tall and wears stilettos.

The murder of a young female student and the ensuing investigation take place against the background of a production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s farcical operetta, The Pirates of Penzance. Linnea Murphy was to have played the leading role of Mabel, and her death occurs within a few weeks of opening night. The idea of this dichotomy … an intense murder investigation, a light-hearted stage production … I hope the reader will find intriguing.

Who killed Linnea Murphy? That’s the mystery Augusta McKee and Detective Mitchell will face together.

Visit my website: www.susanmoorejordan.com

to find links to purchase all my books from Amazon

On Reaching Fourscore Years

At some point during my high school years our class was required to memorize Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, and I always liked the way the President opened his speech: “Fourscore and seven years ago …” Poetic and definitely memorable. Tomorrow I celebrate having spent fourscore years on this earth.

I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around this number for the better part of a year, but it really hit me just a few days ago, while researching for a book I’ve just started work on. I was looking into causes of death in the U.S. in 1927, and while looking at some tables I found was reminded of the influenza pandemic of 1918 … something we seem to have tucked into the back of our collective consciousness, probably because it’s too awful to contemplate it happening again … and it struck me. I was born on January 7, 1938, a mere score of years after that cataclysm.

My parents married in August of 1931. My dad had just finished four years as an engineering major at the University of Oklahoma in Norman, and while he was an engineer by choice, his passion for and knowledge of music was always an important part of his life and at times his means of livelihood. He played in the orchestra for Norman High School’s production of Rudolf Friml’s “Rose Marie” and a pretty, dark-haired, hazel-eyed chorus girl, a senior at the school, caught his eye.

They lived the American dream: my father retired as a vice-president of York Borg Warner, a highly successful professional man who had represented his company internationally. My extraordinary mother (who had suffered discrimination because of her Choctaw heritage … my dad told me his college roommate had remarked in dismay: “You aren’t going to marry that little Indian girl, are you?”) reinvented herself as often as necessary to be the perfect wife/mother/hostess/traveling companion as my dad climbed the corporate ladder. And she did this without losing who she was.

Looking back over my long life I am grateful for many things, my family among them. I’m grateful for my siblings: older sister Annalee, who sadly left this earth far too young, at the age of sixty-two. She was much like my mother: kind, generous, funny, loving, a lady with a heart of gold. My sweet brother Lawrence, a highly successful man in his own right who inherited our mother’s wit and our father’s brains. Larry has been a resident of California for decades and because of the continent between us I haven’t seen him in years, but think of him often with love. 

My brother is only two years younger but was three years behind me in school (because of where our birthdays fell), and when you’re a junior in high school and your little brother is in eighth grade … well, that’s a chasm. Hopefully he has forgiven me for being an insufferable older sister who was pretty wrapped up in herself. I’ve since learned everybody’s high school years are difficult. I didn’t realize how much I had struggled in high school until I went to college … to study music. 

Music, my life’s passion. What I have turned to in times of joy and sorrow, what I have come to believe is the most powerful force in the universe. I’ve been one lucky lady. I’ve been able to enjoy music as I think few people have who aren’t those souls whose lives were infused with music, who become the composers and performers we admire. I’ve been a student, a performer, a teacher, an independent contractor in the music publishing industry, a director of musical theater for both high schools and community groups (and wrote about those thirty-plus years in a book, “More Fog, Please”  ̶  available on Amazon, you might enjoy it. Sorry, we independent authors need all the plugs we can get.) And in recent years, an author who includes the power of music in the lives of her characters as it helps them meet some seriously daunting challenges. Bonus: yet more friends and colleagues in this new chapter in my life.

Music, which led me to a tenor with whom I spent nearly fifty years and with whom I had three wonderful children. Sam Jordan had one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard, and was a consummate musician. He was also a complicated man and it was not an easy marriage, but it was certainly rewarding in many ways. Our children  ̶  Susan Marguerite, Stephen Andrew, and Samuel Calvin  ̶  have become magnificent adults and good friends.

Music, which brought me into contact with so many people with whom I could share my love for the art … as student, colleague, teacher and stage director. Leonard Bernstein’s wonderful opera Candide closes with a piece of music I have come to love, “Make Our Garden Grow.” It includes this thought: “… and let us try before we die to make some sense of life.” We are all just who we are … and we do what we can with what life gives us. It’s all any of us can do, really.

How incredibly fortunate I have been over these fourscore years to have been given so much; to have this garden filled with thousands of blooms … I am grateful for each of them, for the opportunity I’ve had to cross paths with so many remarkable people.

To make some sense of life. It’s been a great run and I consider myself the wealthiest of women. Wealthy because of the people in my life  ̶  family, friends, colleagues, students, performers  ̶  and the music in the universe, which claimed me at a young age. It will always be there.

Please visit my website to learn more and find links to my books:

www.susanmoorejordan.com