Canadian Authors Past and Present by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey--Alberta

http://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

Canadian Authors Past and Present

Canada celebrated its 150^th anniversary in 2017. To commemorate the occasion my publisher, Books We Love, Ltd (BWL) brought out the Canadian Historical Brides Series during 2017 and 2018. There are twelve books, one about each province, one about the Yukon, and one combining the Northwest Territories and Nunavut. Each book was written by a BWL Canadian author or co-authored by a Canadian and an international BWL author.

Each province and territory of Canada has spawned many well-known authors and my series of posts this year will be about them-one or two from the past and one or two from the present, the present-day ones being the authors of the Brides book for the corresponding province or territory. The posts are in the order that the books were published.

Alberta

Henrietta Louise Muir was born in Montreal on December 18, 1849, into a middle class family. When she was twenty-six-years old she and her sister founded a Working Girls’ Association to provide meals, reading rooms, and study class for young women. It became one of the first Young Women’s Christian Associations (YWCA) in Canada. Henrietta and her sister also published a periodical titled The Working Women of Canada. It highlighted the terrible working conditions of women in Montreal. The two young women financed these two projects from money they earned as artists.

     Henrietta married Dr. Oliver C. Edwards in 1876 and in 1883 they and their three children moved to Indian Head, Northwest Territories, now the province of Saskatchewan. She continued to advocate for women’s rights and when Dr. Edwards became ill in 1890, they moved to Ottawa, Ontario. There, Henrietta took up the cause of female prisoners. In 1893, she worked with the wife of the Governor General of Canada, Lady Aberdeen, to establish the National Council of Women of Canada. They also founded the Victoria Order of Nurses (VON) in 1897.

     Dr. Edwards was posted as the medical officer to the Blood Tribe in 1904 and they moved to Fort Macleod, Northwest Territories, now Alberta. She wrote Legal Status of Canadian Women (1908) about the legal problems she was trying to overcome for women. Near the end of the First World War, 1914-1918, when supplies and moral were low, the Government of Canada selected Henrietta Muir Edwards, as the only woman to be on an advisory committee on how to bring in stricter conservation measures. This was the first time that a woman had been appointed to review public policy with the government.

     Henrietta joined four other women’s rights activists, Louise McKinney, Irene Parlby, Nellie McClung, and Emily Murphy, to lobby the Alberta government for dower and matrimonial property rights for women. They became known as The Famous Five. Henrietta wrote and had her second book published, Legal Status of Women in Alberta in 1921.

     The Famous Five joined together again to fight the Persons Case in the late 1920s. Until then, women did not have the same rights as men to hold positions of political power. The case, officially known as Edwards v. A. G. of Canada, fought for the right of women to be appointed to the Senate. In 1928, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled that women were not considered ‘persons’ according to the British North America Act and therefore could not be appointed to the Senate. The women took their appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London, England. The council reversed the Court’s decision in 1929 and this opened the Senate to women, enabling them to work in both the House of Commons and the Upper House.

     Henrietta died on November 10, 1931 and was buried in Mount Pleasant Municipal Cemetery, Edmonton. For some reason the memorial erected in her honour lists her death as Nov 9.

William Patrick "W. P." Kinsella was born on May 25, 1935, in Edmonton, Alberta. His first ten years were spent on a homestead west of the city where he was homeschooled. His family moved into Edmonton when he was ten and he started school in the fifth grade. His first story won a YMCA contest when he was fourteen. After high school he worked at various jobs in Edmonton, then moved to Victoria in 1967 where he drove taxi and ran a pizza restaurant. Three years later he enrolled in writing courses at the University of Victoria and received his Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing in 1974. He moved to Iowa and earned his Master of Fine Arts in English from the Iowa Writers Workshop at the University of Iowa in 1978.

     Kinsella’s two favourite subjects for his stories were Indigenous peoples and baseball. While in Iowa, Dance Me Outside, a collection of stories as told by a young Cree boy, was published in 1977. It describes life on a native reserve in Alberta. W.P. returned to Alberta and taught English at the University of Calgary until his writing career took off. In the mid-1980’s, he moved to White Rock, B.C.

     Kinsella won the Houghton Mifflin Literary Fellowship award and the Books in Canada First Novel Award for his most famous baseball novel, Shoeless Joe (1982). It was also made into a movie titled, Field of Dreams in 1989 starring Kevin Costner. Another collection of Indigenous short stories, The Fencepost Chronicles, (1986) earned W.P. the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour in 1987.

     Box Socials (1991) combines baseball and life in rural Alberta in the 1940s. That same year Kinsella received an honorary Doctor of Literature degree from the University of Victoria. In 1993, he was made an Officer of the Order of Canada. Kinsella's eight books of short stories about life on reserves were the basis for the 1994 movie Dance Me Outside and the CBC television series The Rez, which aired on CBC Television from 1996 to 1998.

     In 1997, W.P. Kinsella was struck by a car and suffered a head injury. He lost his ability to concentrate as well as his sense of taste and smell. Unable to write his own stories he did keep in the writing community by writing book reviews. He was awarded the Order of British Columbia in 2005 and was presented with the George Woodcock Lifetime Achievement Award in 2009.

     In March 2010, Kinsella’s unpublished manuscript, Butterfly Winter, won Winnipeg publisher, Enfield and Wizenty’, Colophon award. They published the novel in September, 2011, fourteen years after his accident.

     Kinsella spent the last years of his life in Yale, a small village along the Fraser River northeast of Vancouver. He had suffered from diabetes since the 1980s and in failing health he opted for the assisted dying provisions of Bill C-14. He passed away on Friday 16, 2016 at 12:05pm.

Book 1 of the Canadian Historical Brides Series: Brides of Banff Springs (Alberta) - Victoria Chatham - January 2017

Victoria (Vicki) Chatham was born in Bristol, England and now lives near Calgary, Alberta. She grew up in an area rife with the elegance of Regency architecture. This, along with the novels of Georgette Heyer, engendered in her an abiding interest in the period with its style and manners and is one where she feels most at home.

     Vicki mostly writes historical novels but now and again will tinker with contemporary romance. Her stories are laced with a little mystery to keep her characters on their toes and, of course, in the end love has to conquer all. Cold Gold (2012), On Borrowed Time (2014) and Shell Shocked (2014) are the three books in her Buxton Chronicles series set in the early 1900s. She switched time eras for her next book Loving That Cowboy (2015) which is a contemporary novel that takes place in Calgary during the Calgary Stampede.

     Apart from her writing, Victoria is an avid reader of anything that catches her interest, but especially Regency romance. She also teaches introductory creative writing. Her love of horses gets her away from her computer to volunteer at Spruce Meadows, a world class equestrian centre near Calgary. She goes to movies often and visits her family in England when she can.

     She is a long time member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter, CaRWA, the Calgary Association of Romance Writers of America.

http://www.bookswelove.com/canadian-historical-brides-collection/

http://victoriachatham.blogspot.com/

Bath Costume Museum by Victoria Chatham

AVAILABLE FROM THESE MARKETS

One of the joys for me as a writer of historical romance is visiting museums. No matter what the era, a museum can be a source of so much material a writer can become spoiled for choice. It is said that the devil is in the details and sometimes an extra detail is one too many, but starting out with a menu of items gives an author so much choice.

I was spoiled for choice when I visited the Costume Museum in Bath, England, last fall. I had not been to Bath for a very long time, over thirty years, but I found it had hardly changed. The sights I

Assembly Rooms ceiling

remembered were not the sights I had come for on this visit. This time my destination was the Costume Museum, housed in the basement of the Bath Assembly Rooms. Yes, dear reader, the very Assembly Rooms where so many of Georgette Heyer's heroines fanned themselves after having tripped the light fantastic with their heroes. 

My daughter accompanied me on this visit and I hoped she would get something out of traipsing around a museum with her mum. If anything, she was more fascinated than I was. Each display was a cornucopia of surprises, from the embroidered fabrics to the intricacies of how each costume was constructed. I have, in my time, been known to sew clothes for my family, all pieced together in next to no time on a trusty Singer sewing machine.

I knew how long a simple dress took me to put together but looking at some of the costumes, I could not imagine how many hours went into stitching them by hand. We spent several hours viewing the costumes, even trying some garments on in the 'dress-up' room. My daughter is small, but even she had to breathe in to do up the corset she tried on and that was after undoing the laces. 

There were bonnets and gloves, including embroidered leather gloves worn by Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II at their coronations. There were embroidered satin shoes that were so small they looked as if they might have been made for a child, but no, they were ladies' shoes. My favourite bonnet was this embroidered satin confection. I don't think I have a big head but this was so tiny I could only perch it on the top of my head. Again, this was a lady's bonnet

which emphasized even more how tiny people were during this era.

The fans were exquisite, from embroidered muslin, like these, to painted silks. In all examples, the ribs and guards were beautifully carved ivory. Parasols were stored in boxes and the ones on display were changed regularly. The young ladies on duty at the museum answered all our many questions. We both could have stayed longer.

After having worked up something of an appetite we made our way to the Jane Austen Centre, and there partook of a Mr. Darcy Special Tea. The crusts were cut off the sandwiches, the mini-cakes were a delight and the warm scones with cream and jam were, pardon me, the icing on the cake.

​Victoria Chatham

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I'm at a Crossroads with my series. What do you readers think?

Descriptions and Buy links for all my books can be found here on my BWL Publishing author page.

https://bookswelove.net/pittman-jude/

I personally loved writing my Indian Creek Texas series. Since Kelly McWinter is the main character in all of them, and they are all mysteries, I've used the series title Kelly McWinter PI.  This has worked well and the first three books have sold well over several years and continue to sell (although at a much slower pace, of course).  I now have the first three combined in a trilogy, and I'm releasing the eBook for only $3.99, which is definitely a bargain for readers, but I'm hoping lots of you will enjoy reading about the inhabitants of Indian Creek, Texas as much as I've enjoyed writing about them . 

In 2017 I decided to continue the series with a 4th book, Deadly Lights, which I released, and which really has never caught on like the first three.  Readers who have purchased the book have given it good reviews.  It has a combination of 4 and 5 stars on the review sites, but the sales have not been near as consistent as the first thee books.

So, applying good marketing sense to my future writing it only made sense to move away from this series, and I spent a good part of last year dabbling with this and that, trying to find something I wanted to settle down and work with.  And, at the end of the year, I realized that it wasn't going to work.  Kelly wasn't done with me, and apparently I wasn't done with the gang at Indian Creek.

So, what to do. I had the first couple of chapters of Deadly Ghosts worked out, and a line on where Kelly was going in the future.  With a wife and a baby on the way, he'd stepped back a lot from the PI work, and as a result he'd made some changes, taking in a junior partner, and in addition, someone readers will remember from all the other Deadlies, Stella had come to join McWinter Confidential as a combination officer worker, and newly licensed PI.  Yep, a whole new direction for the gang.  And before I knew it a brand new mystery, with lots of ties to old times, started taking shape, and a new series just grew.

So, I'm hoping old Kelly fans and new readers will all enjoy this brand new series, with some of the same old characters.

Deadly Ghosts

Death in Texas, Book 1

Chapter One

Moonbeams reflected off the metal hinges on Frank Wright’s weathered chicken coop. In the dim light, a shadow bobbed and weaved, in and out of view.

Frank removed his metal-framed glasses and rubbed his eyes. “What in tarnation?” Returning the crooked frames to his face, he blinked. The shadowy shape was gone. Confused, he shook his head. They say the eyesight is the first to go. He took a quick inventory of his aches and pains then chuckled. Not so sure ‘they’ know what they’re talking about.”

Shoving a bucket on a shelf in his neatly organized barn, he then exited and closed the door, wiggling it to make sure it latched. One more suspicious glance toward the coop, then Frank headed back to his house.

The squeal of rusted hinges pulled him up short and drew his attention back to the chickens. He cocked an eyebrow and waited. The shadow he could have imagined. The mournful squeak of the hinged coop door was not a figment of his imagination. Frank took a step toward the coop but paused when he saw the hazy outline of a man near the fence.

“Who’s there?”

A dark-skinned face with vacant white eyes loomed out of the shadows.

“Ernie Potter, is that you? What the devil are you up to?”

As quickly as the apparition had appeared, it faded. Frank hurried to the coop and fumbled for the light switch. When he found it, the dirt caked bulb cast the yard in an eerie yellow glow.
Frank swiveled around in a circle, checking every corner of the yard but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Once again Frank tugged off the glasses with coke-bottle thick lenses and rubbed his eyes. Course it wasn’t Ernie. What was I thinkin’?

With another long look around, Frank smacked off the light and made sure the coop fence and doors were secure. He padded back to his house, muttering all the way. I was thinkin’ I’m a real dolt, that’s what. Might as well of said I’d seen Elvis out there.

Entering his house, he closed the door then peered out the window once again. Exceptin’ Elvis has been dead for years. Ernie Potter’s only been dead, what? Six months? Frank chuckled to himself, but before he climbed the stairs he found the old skeleton key to the front door and locked it. Scratching his head, he headed up the staircase to bed.

* * *

“McWinter Confidential.” Stella Davis answered the landline in the PI office. She immediately made a horrified face.

Cade Wyatt grinned, sure he knew who was on the other end of the line. “Rita?” he mouthed.
Stella gave an exaggerated nod. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Anderson. Yes, I told Kelly you wanted to hire him to follow your husband. He’s just not sure he’ll be able to devote as much time to your case as it would require, what with the baby coming soon and all. He wondered if you might want to contact Tony D’Amato in Dallas. Tony specializes in cases like yours.” Stella raised her brows at Cade then made a face.

Still smiling, Cade swiveled his chair around to his desk.

Everyone in the hamlet of Indian Creek, Texas, knew that Rita Anderson had set her sights on their boss Kelly McWinter, even though he was happily married. The whole town also knew that Gillian was two weeks overdue with their first child and she’d been complaining frequently and loudly about feeling as attractive as a whale.

Cade shot a glance at his boss through the open door to his office. Kelly sat staring at his phone, much like he’d been doing for the past two weeks. Gill was his much-treasured second wife. Cade didn’t know all the details, but he’d heard that years ago, Kelly’s first wife had died in an arson fire back when he worked for the Fort Worth Police Department. Cade understood that Kelly carried a sense of guilt for her death. So much so that he was a bit paranoid about anything happening to Gill and the fact that she was carrying his baby had turned him into a basket case.

Kelly had turned Rita’s case down three times, but the woman was relentless.

Stella ended the call just as Kelly looked up and Cade mouthed the name Rita.

Kelly shook his head. “That woman is a piece of work. Think she got the message this time?”

“Who knows?” Stella shrugged. “She’s a nut.”

Cade had his mouth open to observe that it took one to know one, when the chorus to The Yellow Rose of Texas jingled from his pocket.

Kelly looked up at the interruption and raised his eyes to the ceiling at Cade’s choice of music.

Cade grinned and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Probably just as well he got interrupted before he could have another go at Stella. They’d developed a love/hate relationship in the few months they’d been working together. He loved to give her trouble, and she hated not giving it back.

The screen of his phone lit up with his father’s smiling face, the same image that could be seen on billboards and bus stop benches all over Denton, Texas. Cade pushed the talk button. “Hey, Dad. How’s the insurance biz today?”

“Hello, son. Fair to middling. Nobody’s died, so I’ve got that going for me.”

Cade chuckled at his pop’s canned reply. “Yes you do. How’s Mama?”

“It’s been a good week. She’s staying positive, and that helps.”

“Good. She’s a strong woman.” Cade sighed. His mother professed to smoking two packs a day for twenty years, back in the days when ‘everybody did it’ and no one claimed to know any better. Now, at age fifty, she suffered from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, or COPD, and required the use of oxygen for a good portion of every day.

“That’s not why I phoned, though. I got a call from one of my clients, do you remember Frank Wright? He has a chicken farm off old Highway 2B.”

“I think so. Wasn’t his wife Harriet the school lunch lady back in the day?”

“Yes. Harriet passed on a few years ago. Frank called to tell me about some suspicious activity last night around his chicken coops. He swears he saw a man out by his chicken coop, but when he went to look there was no one around. This morning he found all his chickens dead in the coop.”

Cade blinked. “Dead?”

“Dead. All one hundred eighty-two of them. The vet is running some tests, but he said how it looks like they’d been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Cade repeated.

“Poisoned.” Ben Wyatt chuckled. “Son, now I see why Kelly pays you the big bucks. You ask the tough questions.”

Cade had to laugh. “It’s so damn bizarre. Who would want to poison one hundred and eighty-two chickens?”

“Again, son, that’s a question I hoped you could answer. Frank had a thought, but I didn’t give it much credence.”

“Why not?”

His father cleared his throat. “Frank thought he saw someone by the coop last night. A local troublemaker by the name of Ernie Potter.”

“That’s great! Sounds like you should be notifying the police instead of me.”

“Yeah, well, the problem is…” Ben hesitated. “Ernie Potter has been dead six months.”

“Dead?”

“Here we go again. Yes, dead.”

“So Frank thinks what?”

“He thinks that a ghost poisoned his chickens.”

Cade laughed. When his father didn’t join in, he stopped. “You don’t believe him.”

“Of course not. He’s just rather insistent about what he saw.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because I was thinking, hoping, that you’d come out and have a look around. Talk with Frank. The police aren’t taking him seriously but it can’t be denied that something happened to his brood. You’re an investigator. I thought maybe you could investigate.”

Cade shook his head. “Dad, this isn’t the kind of thing we do here at McWinter Confidential.”

“Even if your old man asked for a favor?”

He sighed. “Well, hell. If you’re going to put it that way… Let me talk to Kelly.”

“Great! Thanks, Cade.”

“I’m not promising anything. I just said I’d talk to him. He might have something else for me to work on. But I’ll ask.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. Thanks again, son. See you when you come out.”

“Dad—” Cade protested but his father had already ended the call. He stared at the phone screen and sighed.

Kelly cupped his hand to his ear and waited. “Something interesting?”

Cade folded his arms across his chest. “Nah, not really. Dead chickens and a ghost. Pretty much the status quo in Denton, Texas.”

A slow smile spread across Kelly’s face. “And your father wants you to check it out?”

Cade nodded, secretly hoping another case had arrived in the past five minutes so he’d be off the hook. “But I’m sure we have something more pressing, so it’s okay.”

Actually, we’re clear. Why don’t you head on out to Denton tomorrow and have a look around? I know your folks would be glad to see you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kelly spotted Stella waving her hand in the air. “Take Stella,” he nodded in her direction, “She could use something to sink her teeth into besides paperwork.”

Stella clapped her hands, grinning like crazy.

Cade groaned. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Kelly shot him a look that Cade already recognized as
“don’t give me any crap.”

It’s going to be a long ride to Denton, Cade muttered to himself.

 

Chapter Two

 

“You really think your father’s friend saw a ghost haunting his chicken coop?” Stella poked Cade on the shoulder to draw his attention away from the country music he’d turned up high on the radio. 
 

“The old coot must be having delusions,” Cade muttered. He’d turned up the music in hopes of discouraging conversation but that obviously wasn’t working. Stella just increased her own volume. 

Cade reached over and turned down the volume.  If you can’t beat ‘em might as well join them. He spoke under his breath, and with a resigned shrug he turned his attention onto his traveling partner.

“Funny though, my dad swears Frank still possesses all his faculties, and I kind of remember him from when I was a kid. He definitely wasn’t the type to see ghosts or aliens or anything like that.”

“Well, people do change. But what if he’s telling the truth and there really is some paranormal activity going on out at his place?”

“Come on Stella. Don’t tell me you’re one of those Paranormal State junkies.”

Stella laughed. “I used to watch it like a true fanatic back when I was bartending out at Indian Creek. I don’t think I’m a fanatic, but there sure were a lot of things on that show that would make you question your own eyesight. If they weren’t out of this world, they were definitely inexplicable.”

Cade turned his head towards Stella and raised his eyebrows. “Guess we’ll just have to check it out and see what we find. That’s the turnoff to dad’s place up ahead, so be prepared for an inquisition?”

“How’s that?”

“Mom and Dad have been hankering for grandchildren for quiet awhile now. Since I’m their only kid, you can figure out what that means. Me showing up with a good looking woman’s bound to get the speculation going.”

Stella laughed. “Well thanks for that back handed compliment cowboy. Don’t worry, I’ll flash my wedding ring and set them straight before you find yourself backed into a corner. Of course, you gotta remember favors run both ways.”

Always got an angle. Cade muttered under his breath. “Here we are. Gird your loins and let’s get this over with. 

* * *

Anyway, that's where I'll stop (the rest is just notes anyhow) but I think I've got the rhythm down now, and there's no doubt about it, I'm happily back at Indian Creek where all my old faithful friends are gathered around waiting for what comes next in the world of Kelly McWinter.

The Mysterious Derec Pritchard by Diane Scott Lewis

For my Revolutionary War adventure, Her Vanquished Land, my main male character is a Welshman with a dark past. Let's find out more about Derec Pritchard with a Character Interview:

 

 

Derec, the Welsh don't care much fore the English, why do you spy for their cause?

The tall, lanky man took a chair. "Aye, I needed money, and to leave Wales after an...incident with my step-father, a horrible man."

An incident?

"He used his fists on my mum." His black eyes above sharp cheekbones burned fiercely. "I had to stab him, not to death mind. But scared him off. Now I send her money to keep her from being evicted."

I see. That was awful for you and your mother. What are your duties is the spying business?

"Code breaking. Stopping messengers, taking their satchels." He pushed back his three-cornered hat. "Sending the information to the British generals."

Is that how you met Miss Marsh?

"Not exactly. She's a hoyden, that one." A smile creased his face. "Dressed as a boy, said her name was Rowland. But I found out it's Rowena."

What did you think of Rowena?

"Thought her in the way at first. But then she was able to decode the new code in ancient Greek from the rebels." He nodded slowly. "An asset."

Are you attracted to her?
"Wasn't." Derec shifted in the wooden chair. "Never bothered with a lasting relationship with a woman, and she was still a girl. Barely eighteen."
But she grew on you...?
"Aye, I must admit, her bravery and stubbornness impressed me. I still resisted. I didn't want to be tied down."
Did she convince you to start a relationship?
"That's not her way. No flirt, that one. Besides, I don't want to settle down in one place. Women want that."
So you'll--
"I must continue my duties to the Crown." He squared his shoulders in his dark frock coat. "The rebels grow stronger, winning more battles. The British troops are stretched thin." His voice softened. "Rowena has left with her family to find safety."

Then there's no happy ending?

"We will see. First, I must join the fight, which could be the death of me." Derec stood and strode from the room.

 



  

Purchase from BWL site.

For more information on me and my books, visit my website: Diane Scott Lewis

 

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for an on-line publisher, and wrote book reviews for the Historical Novel Society. She lives with her husband and one naughty puppy in Western Pennsylvania.

 

Honoring Dr. Martin Luther King and a Day of Service

Dangerous Sanctuary by J. Q. Rose

Cozy Mystery

Pastor Christine Hobbs never imagined she would be caring for a flock 

that includes a pig, a kangaroo, and a murderer.

Find more mysteries by J.Q. Rose at BWL Publishing

"Only in the darkness can you see the stars."--Martin Luther King
Today, in the USA, we honor and celebrate the life of 

Martin Luther King, Jr.

 the leader in the Civil Rights Movement. 

His effort to achieve equality through peaceful means brought about change for all of humankind. 

####

 The day, also known as a day of service, is a chance for Americans to volunteer service in honor of Dr.King. 

Volunteer opportunities are available wherever you live through charities, churches, libraries or right in your neighborhood. Shoveling snow, preparing a meal for someone who is ill or in need, collecting items to send to those in our military. I bet you can think of many ways to share kindness in your community on this day and hopefully for days in the future.

Kindness Quote by Aesop

Kindness Quote by Mark 

Click here to connect online with J.Q. Rose.

The Waiting Game by Stuart R. West

Click for comedy, mystery and murrrrrderrrrrrrr most dumb!

Recently, I encountered surely one of the world's worst waiters at a Mexican restaurant. Let's call him "Nelson (because that was his name)." Combative, non-communicative, just plain bad table etiquette. He mistakenly delivered baked beans instead of refried. My wife told me to let him know about it. No thanks. After the fight he put up over his bringing flour instead of corn tortillas, I didn't want things to escalate to violence. Still, he got the last laugh. When he swept my plate out from under me (without asking), he dropped my knife an inch from my hand. No apologies.

Now I'm no waiter, never have been one, yet I do have empathy for those plying the fine trade of waiting. And, as always, I'm here to help. Hence, Stuart's Easy School of Good Waiting for the low, low price of three $39.99 installments . Order now and you'll receive a free doily.

Waiters, kindly remember these rules:

1) Hairnets. If you have hair like the lunch-lady of my nightmares, hairnets are appreciated. Soup served with croutons and curly black hairs is simply not an option.

2) For God's sake, give me time to take a bite! Overzealous behavior doesn't suit the art of waiting well. Sometimes, before I've even jammed a fork in my mouth, a tip-starved waiter will ask how everything is. And keep coming back. Again and again. It's a weird time-space conundrum. Can't comment until the food's in me. Just...no.

3) Waiters, please don't chortle at a customer's menu selection. It doesn't exactly instill culinary confidence.

4) And do we really need to know your grandmother just passed away? When the waiter starts crying, my appetite starts dying.

5) When I ask what's good, don't respond with a generic shrug and say, "everything." I don't believe you. On the other hand, when a waiter says, "I eat next door," the honesty is appreciated, but gives me pause.

6) Don't be the invisible waiter, the guy who takes an order and vanishes into the Bermuda Triangle. When a different waiter brings out a milk carton with my waiter's visage on it, I know I'm in for an even longer wait.

7) Know your customers. Do I REALLY look like a guy who wants to eat the Kale platter?

8) "Oh, I see someone's hungry."  Well. When a waiter says that, I fire back, "I see someone's hungry for a tip." Puh-leaze.

9) If you're gonna' serve up witty patter, make sure it's at least borderline amusing. And don't deliver your patter like a robot. Bring your material to life. When you bury your face in the order pad, reciting lines like "you say tomat-oh, I say ta-mah-to (and I know you've recited it a kazillion times before)," it makes me wanna' use the steak knife for other purposes. Bad jail-bound purposes.

10) Finally, don't overdo it. When a waiter sits down at my table, drops an arm over my shoulder, jabs a toothpick between his teeth, and says, "You know, I'm not really a waiter...," dessert is definitely off the table.

Gang, the next time you go out to eat, recite these rules upfront to your waiter. Trust me. I'm sure they'll appreciate the advice. Absolutely positive.

What does "waiting" have to do with writing, I hear you ask? Quite a bit, actually. A waiter has to guide his/her customer through an entire meal before any kind of feedback is given (and hopefully a tip). A writer is in the same sort of unknowing vacuum until reviews come out (and hopefully sales).

There will be a test later.

Speaking of waiters, my dunderheaded protagonist of the Zach and Zora comic mystery series isn't exactly a waiter (and maybe the world's a better place for it). No, no, Zach has chosen to study and practice the fine art of "male entertainment dancing." Just, whatever you do, don't call him a "stripper." So gauche.

Click for wacky murder mystery hijinx.