Well. I’ve just finished with #3 in the Roaring Twenties series, or the initial draft anyway. I’m a little teary. It’s a sad ending and it hurt to write it. I’m going to let the manuscript cook for a month or so while I write a difficult article for a history magazine, then I’ll take it out of the oven and have a serious chat with it. I’ll print it out and go at it like a critic. The title is terrific, IMHO. I call it RENTING SILENCE. It’s about a blackmailer who doesn’t sell silence, she rents it, and the rent keeps going up.
Meanwhile, more good news: my publisher, St. Martin’s/Minotaur, has agreed to publish #2. Bad news: we don’t have a title for that one. Oh, sure, we could call it SiLENT MURDERS, but that’s not exactly riveting. I liked SILENT SCREEN MURDERS (the backdrop is the silent film industry in 1925), but my editor didn’t. What would you title a book about murders in silent-film-era Hollywood? No one seems to like the word Hollywood, so forget that idea. Maybe if I drink a glass of wine and then put my mind to it, I’ll be more imaginative.