Tag Archives: Western Massachusetts

Podcast

An On-Air Conversation about Writing

I can’t ever resist an opportunity to talk about writing and in particular my books. That’s happened at readings and various interviews. Recently, I was invited to be on a podcast, my first, for Greenfield Community College’s Backyard Oasis with host Denise Schwartz.

Backyard Oasis’s podcasts cover a variety of topics although it focuses on people with some miles on them aka older adults. Denise reached out after a mutual friend, Jim, who had read one of my books, suggested I would make a good podcast interview. When Denise and I met in person at a holiday party, I knew this would be a fun experience. I was right.

As a long-time journalist, it’s always interesting to be on the other side of an interview and even put on the spot with an unexpected question, so I would have to do some fast thinking. I knew Denise and I were going to talk about my writing experience, but I purposely didn’t overthink it. Of course, I wasn’t given the questions ahead of time, a rule I followed as well as a reporter.

It was obvious to me Denise did her homework, including reading books in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, so she was well prepared.

The podcast’s title is: “Meet Isabel Long: Investigator of Mysteries and Solver of Cold Cases in the Homey Hilltowns of Western Massachusetts.” It includes my photo, so maybe some people will think that I am her. That’s okay. To be honest, there is a great deal of me in Isabel, the protagonist in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, since she tells the stories. (By the way, no. 8, Finding the Source, will be out this spring.)

Here is the pitch by Backyard Oasis for the podcast: “Denise talks with author Joan Livingston about the art and business of writing, how ideas for her novels pop up in the strangest places, and why small towns, people watching, and experience as a newspaper reporter covering rural villages help her create authentic characters — including private investigator Isabel Long — and solve mysteries!”

That sums it up nicely.

By the way the podcast was labeled “clean” by Apple Podcasts, which means, thankfully, I didn’t use any curse words.

The podcast was produced by Alex Audette in the Teaching and Learning Innovation Center’s Multimedia Studios at GCC. He oversaw the recording and editing.

It is obvious from our conversation that Denise and I were enjoying the experience. I hope those who listen to it feel the same.

(Interestingly, the podcast went live on the same day the audiobook for Professor Groovy and Other Stories was released on Audible.) 

So here are those links, and if you are so moved, please give the podcast a five-star review.

Apple Podcasts: 

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/backyard-oasis/id1713761468

Spotify:

Standard
Hilltown Postcards

Hilltown Postcard: Following the Plow

When I worked as an editor for a daily newspaper in Western Mass., I drove a good country road, Route 143, from the small hilltown where we lived through two others to a valley city. Most of the year, it was a pleasant 45-minute commute with long views, deep forests, occasional wildlife, and very few vehicles. A traffic jam typically involved three cars stuck behind a logging truck on one of the route’s steep hills.

But then, there was winter.

I dreaded November. Rain that month meant black ice. And that was just the start of a long season of digging ourselves out of deep snow. I constantly kept tabs on the weather.

Prior to working as an editor for the Daily Hampshire Gazette, I was its correspondent for the town of Worthington where we lived, being paid by the inch, and after several years, I was on staff covering two more hilltowns — Chesterfield and Cummington — plus regional news. Today, so many people work remotely, but Jim Foudy, who was the editor-in-chief then, said it didn’t make sense for me to cover those towns in the newsroom. I called a corner of our bedroom, where I kept my desk, the Hilltown Bureau.

I was frequently put in charge of any bad weather coverage. Typically, I would call a few of the highway superintendents for an update on road conditions and how their crews were handling them. Here’s a memorable example: during one ice storm, the highway trucks had to be driven backwards to spread sand on the road to give their wheels traction, and sometimes, the conditions were so dangerous, they were called back to the garage.

The highway supers didn’t mind taking a break to chat with a reporter. Sometimes I felt they were expecting me to call. I also called people who might have driven in the storm or worked outside or had an interesting perspective. Of course, Donald Ives, who kept daily weather records in Worthington for decades, was on my list.

But that changed when I became an editor, and I assigned those stories to reporters. Also, I had to commute to Northampton.

I left for the newsroom at 6:10 in the morning. I knew by then the plow trucks were out on the roads. I had faith when I reached the town line, the Chesterfield crew had taken care of a steep hill my car would climb. I kept going until I reached the Williamsburg aka Burgy line. Here was another hill, this time down to Route 9, a state highway that took me to Northampton. As I approached each town line, I asked myself “Did they make it? Did they make it?” It was extremely rare they didn’t.

When freezing rain or snow fell, the highway crews hit the steep hills first so they wouldn’t lose them. That included the one in front our house in Worthington. When I saw a truck’s strobing yellow lights move down that slope I knew for sure a storm had arrived.

One time, the police were on top of Burgy Hill telling people to take it slow since the road was icy. But as I did just that, the town’s highway truck was spreading salted sand on its way up.

Lucky for me and other drivers, those little towns spend a good chunk of their money roads. And the men who maintained the roads — yes, there were no women — took their jobs seriously. In Worthington, three men took care of 57 miles of roads in the winter.

The worst snow storms of the season were the first and last. During the first, it seemed people forgot how to drive on snowy roads. On the last, everybody, including the highway crews, was sick of snow.

Often I met the plow and gratefully followed it uphill all the way to the next town. Or its driver deservedly got a wave and toot of my Subaru’s horn when we passed in the opposite direction. At the end of winter, I sent a thank you card to the highway department in the three towns.

Sometimes we got hit with a storm when I was at work and my boss let me leave early. I recall one April 1 watching serious snow falling outside the newsroom’s windows. It was obvious this wasn’t going to be the flurries that had been forecast. In fact, it was such a fast-falling wet snow that when I turned left on Route 143, a tractor trailer was jackknifed on the road. But my all-wheel-drive Subaru managed to get around it.

After depending on these crews for so many years, I also got to know their work habits. For instance, I learned I shouldn’t drive home at noon. No matter the weather the guys took their lunch break then. If I waited until 1, they were back on the roads.

The crews also inspired characters in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, including one guy, Cary Moore, who worked on a town’s highway department and wrote poetry good enough for a famous poet to steal. That was in Checking the Traps.And in case you’re wondering, that character is not based on anyone real.

Here’s a poem Cary — well, I, actually — wrote about his highway super called The Peerless Plowman:

Night and day the Peerless Plowman sees the road ahead.

He drives alone

Pushing snow aside with his truck’s long blade.

No harm will come to those who follow.

The Peerless Plowman watches the weather.

Hey, guys, a storm front’s moving in, he tells us,

Get the trucks ready before it does.

We can’t let the people down.

Standard
Isabel Long Mystery Series

Transferable Skills

Isabel Long, the protagonist of my mystery series, was a long-time journalist before she became a private investigator. So was I, but I don’t plan to become a P.I. Instead, I will continue writing about one.

The series is set in the small, rural hilltowns of Western Massachusetts, where I got my start in the newspaper biz. I was hired as a correspondent — paid by the inch — to cover the hilltown where I lived, Worthington, population 1,200, for the Daily Hampshire Gazette. I had no previous experience, except for reading neswpapers, but that didn’t seem to matter to the editor who hired me.

That experience grew into a 35-year career working for newspapers. including as editor-in-chief for The Taos News in Taos, New Mexico — an immensely interesting experience. My most recent gig was an editor-in-chief overseeing three daily newspapers in Western Mass. — Greenfield Recorder, Daily Hampshire Gazette and Athol Daily News.

But back to the start, I reported first on Worthington as I learned the ropes and eventually covered several towns, plus did regional stories. I loved breaking a news story and getting to know what people did. I went to town meetings and reported what interested the community from truck pulls to school events to country fairs. I covered fires and what little crime there was. I did profiles. A few of my stories went national. I even went to the White House.

One of the greatest benefits was listening to the way people talked and writing it down. I believe it has paid off with realistic dialogue in my fiction.

It also gave me insight into how people behave, and certainly I had a total immersion into the hilltowns of Western Mass., which I use as a setting for much of my fiction.

And as an aside, working as reporter broke a 25-year writer’s block.

Back to Isabel, who also covered the hilltowns of Western Mass. until, like me, she moved up to being the top editor. She lost her job managing a newspaper when it went corporate. (To set the record straight, that didn’t happen to me.) In Chasing the Case, no. 1 in the series, Isabel decides to revisit her first big story as a rookie reporter — when a woman went missing 28 years earlier from the fictional town of Conwell.

She relies on the skills she used as a journalist for that case and the ones after. The first three in the series were recently re-released by Bloodhound Books: Chasing the Case, Redneck’s Revenge and Checking the Traps.

By the way, since Isabel snagged a bunch of cold case files from her newspaper, it was an opportunity for me to write news stories again — although for made-up subjects. Here’s the start of one with the headline: Conwell woman missing.

CONWELL — Police are investigating the disappearance of Adela Snow Collins, 38, a Conwell native, who was reported missing Tuesday, Sept. 15 by her family when she failed to show up for work at the town’s only store.

State Police, who were called to assist the Conwell Police Department, issued a statement they are treating her disappearance as a missing persons case and at this time, do not suspect any criminal activity.

Her father, Andrew Snow, said in an interview he became concerned when Collins wasn’t on time because she was always prompt even during bad weather. “She only lives three hundred yards from the store,” he said.

Snow said he walked to his daughter’s house on Booker Road when she didn’t answer the telephone despite calling several times. He said he thought maybe she was ill although she seemed fine the day before.

But Snow said he couldn’t find his daughter or her car in the garage. Her purse was on the kitchen table and her dog was inside the house.

“That’s when I called the police,” Snow said. “This isn’t like my daughter at all. The last time I saw her, I was locking up the store. She always tells us where she’s going especially if she’s leaving town, and she didn’t say anything. We’re all so worried for her. Please, if anyone knows anything, call the State Police.”

Customers at the Conwell General Store also expressed concern for Collins, who has worked in the family’s business since she was a teenager. She grew up in Conwell and attended local schools. She has one son, Dale, 10, who was staying overnight at his grandparents’ house, according to police.

“You couldn’t ask for a sweeter person,” said Thomas MacIntyre, who works on the town’s highway crew. “We‘ve known each other since we were kids. I hope she’s okay.”

Franny Goodwin, who was Collins’s first-grade teacher, says she can’t recall anything like the woman’s disappearance happening in the small town.

“We only have a thousand people living here,” she said. “How can a woman just up and disappear? You tell me.”

State Police say anyone who may have information about Collins should call the barracks in Vincent.

So what skills would Isabel find transferable? Certainly, breaking down the elements of a story and figuring who to contact. Good interview skills are a must. Developing a network of sources for tips is another. And she’s got to be good kind of nosy.

And there are times when a journalist has to be a bit brave. For Isabel, that means talking with somebody who has something to hide — like maybe murdering another person. By the way, she’s really good at that.

IMAGE ABOVE: That’s my first press pass. By the way, I only had to use it twice to prove I was a journalist: at the White House and Cummington Fair.

Standard
Isabel Long Mystery Series

When You Gotta Write Poetry

I wrote poetry before I could write prose. I began in college, where I fancied myself a poet, and a few years afterward until real life, including having six kids and a 25-year writer’s block, took over. When I did resume writing, I turned to prose, that is, novels and short stories. I no longer wrote poetry. But that changed when I wrote the third book in my Isabel Long Mystery Series, Checking the Traps.

I should note that book was re-released along with Chasing the Case and Redneck’s Revenge on Nov. 15 by their new publisher Bloodhound Books.

In Checking the Traps, Isabel is hired by a local bad boy drug dealer, Gary Beaumont, to find out how his half-brother died. Did Cary Moore jump from a bridge known for suicides or was he pushed? But what fires up Isabel’s interest in this case is that Cary drove heavy equipment by day and wrote poetry at night.

Gary lends Isabel the notebooks in which his half-brother transcribed all of his poems. As Isabel discovers, Cary’s poetry in the early books are really juvenile. But he gets better, well, enough that a famous poet uses the poems for his own in what turns out to be an award-winning book. He actually paid Cary for the poems, but he put his own name on them in a book that garnered big awards. Yes, the poet is a suspect in the man’s death.

Cyrus is indeed a noted poet, hence the snarky nickname, the Big Shot Poet, which the irreverent Isabel Long secretly calls him. He made it big after growing up poor with the release of his first book of poetry, Yonder.

He’s done well for himself, building a swanky home in the hilltown of Penfield and driving a Mercedes. He has a slew of adoring fans, mostly women. He’s quite the charmer. And, no, I don’t know anybody like him. Cyrus is a figment of my imagination.

One of my favorite scenes in Checking the Traps is a bookstore reading Isabel and her mother attend. I tried to capture poetry readings I’ve attended, including those loud sighs and moans from adoring fans.

Isabel also finds poetry that Cary wrote as gifts for other people.

So, that meant I had to write poetry, too, for this book.

Actually I found writing poetry wasn’t hard at all. I was able to channel that inner poet to come up with several complete poems plus lines from others. I tried to imagine what a man who had never gone farther than 100 miles from his country home would write about and how he would write it. I figured on a plain but sturdy style of writing. There would have lots of imagery from nature. The poems would not be long.

Poetry, including a reading where Isabel corners the famous poet, figures big in this book.

There are not many full poems but excerpts like this one: The wind tells me things my mother never did. And this one: gliding on ice/ if only life was still that easy.

Here’s one Cary — and I — wrote for Jack, the owner of the Rooster Bar, where Isabel works part-time. He’s also her love interest in this series.

What’ll it be tonight, boys?

The barman asks each one.

Give me some hope in a bottle.

Give me courage.

Give me love.

The barman laughs.

Sorry, boys, it’s only beer.

Did the experience inspire me to write more poetry? I will be honest and say no. But I enjoyed letting one of my characters do it instead.

Once again, here are the links to Chasing the Case, Redneck’s Revenge and Checking the Traps.

Standard
Isabel Long Mystery Series

Meet the Old Farts

I call them the Old Farts. Actually, that’s what Isabel Long, the protagonist of my mystery series, calls them — with a capital O and a capital F. And they are an amusing source of intel for her.

The Old Farts are a group of six gossipy old men who hang out early mornings in the back of the Conwell General Store. They appear to know everybody’s business for miles around, including Isabel’s.

For that reason, she finds the Old Farts useful when she takes her first case — in Chasing the Case — trying to find out what happened to a woman who went missing 28 years earlier in that town of a thousand people. They know all the players.

That’s true of the next cases she investigates — Redneck’s Revenge and Checking the Traps.

Chasing the Case, Redneck’s Revenge and Checking the Traps, which now have a home with Bloodhound Books, had a Nov. 15 release date on Amazon. Just clink on the titles below and you’re there.

Actually, Isabel takes this relationship one step further and gives the men secret nicknames. Here they are: the Fattest Old Fart, Serious Old Fart, Bald Old Fart, Silent Old Fart, Skinniest Old Fart, and the Old Fart with Glasses. You can guess how she came up with those names.

The Old Farts, of course, don’t know a thing about it. It’s likely the only one they don’t.

And once in a while, there are Visiting Old Farts, but they aren’t regulars.

Isabel started visiting the Old Farts in the back room on a regular basis after she lost her job running a newspaper and decided to be an amateur P.I. She always sits on a bench besides the Fattest Old Fart, who could rightfully be called the Loudest Old Fart, because nobody else does. He always announces her arrival.

The Serious Old Fart always offers Isabel a cup of the store’s crappy coffee along with a joke that the expresso machine is broke — yes, he mispronounces espresso.

The conversation is lively although the Silent Old Fart lives up to his reputation and rarely speaks. (When he does, it’s significant.) They like to tease Isabel about her personal life. But they do give useful tips or at least some history because unlike Isabel, they are all natives of Conwell. They’ve known each other forever. And they have no better way to start the day than to drink coffee, eat a donut, and shoot the shit, so they love it when Isabel shows up and groan when she leaves too early.

Perhaps you have a group of Old Farts who meet in your town. They might meet regularly at a coffee shop or like mine, in the back room of a general store.

So many readers say they get a kick out of the Old Farts. You can meet them in the first three books in the series. Here are the links: Chasing the Case, Redneck’s Revenge and Checking the Traps.

Standard