GUEST POST
As I worked through my first attempt at publishing a romance novel, I had zero organizational skills—the book’s chapters fell together in a roundabout, rickety way. Far from pretty. My frustration level was high, and several times I nearly gave up on the project. What I understood about being a wordsmith back in 2009 came from watching movies. Many were screenplays based on novels but none portrayed the images and characterization a descriptive novel requires as a backbone. Backdrops and dialog are as important as the characters themselves. Details on the screen were snippets in time, as if taking a brisk walk through each scene and onto the next. To make matters worse, I continued to watch movies and tossed out the idea of reading romances altogether. What a mistake to make! It was a lengthy and difficult way to suffer through the first four drafts that ended up as nine in total before publishing book one, Stolen Obsession. Being a natural visual artist as a young girl hadn’t helped as much as I’d hoped it would. I had to dig deeper to allow my mind to create the visuals painted in my head and match them with prose.
I flew by the seat of my pants because I didn’t know another way. I hadn’t bothered with how-to books on writing. There were and still are many great tutorials for beginning writers that frankly, I ignored. The fear of plagiarizing another author’s published work weighed so heavily on my mind, I stopped myself from picking up novels to read how bestselling authors put their sentences together. It wasn’t like I’d planned to cut and paste their words verbatim; I wanted to stay away from inadvertently picking up their language and style. In practice, if a writer isn’t reading both before and during the writing process, his/her body of work will suffer.
A superb developmental editor who also writes screenplays saw my difficulties immediately and showed me the easiest way to draft, complete the book with ease, and control wandering subplots from confusing the main theme. The day I began to outline using 3x5 cards changed everything. I’m a structured person by nature and this process came easily. Keeping track of each scene on a separate card can direct the story straight ahead to completion.
By the time I had the fifth draft done on my first book, the story had taken on a new life and had become a crossover of two genres. The five or six different subplots I’d managed to acquire during the early years were set aside for next novel series installments. (I’m still using them.) I totally recommend outlining a novel first. Start a new journal with each book and keep the 3x5s with general information with it. For extra details, add those to the journal as well as any new ideas that come to mind. Journal pages can include character names, who they are in the book, and their personality traits. Jot down a list of loglines or taglines for the new title, too. Short summaries come in handy later on—one or two lines that intrigue and explain what the book is about. The outline approach directs the plot away from minor character’s antics who should stay along the sidelines until needed.
ABOUT THE BOOK
A manipulator.
A fatal plan for revenge.
Award-winning author of the Annalisse series, Marlene M. Bell, brings distant friends together in the rural South only to have one of them become the victim of a brutal crime of passion.
Once celebrated for her show-stopping pastries and irresistible desserts, former celebrity chef Laura Harris is now making headlines for a far darker reason.
Laura has been accused of murder.
How could this petite chef have brutally smothered the beloved small-town matriarch, World War II ferry pilot veteran, Hattie Stenburg? Hattie wasn't just a pillar of the community; she was Laura's confidant and mentor. The shocking twist? Hattie’s will contained recent changes, bypassing next-of kin and leaving her entire fortune and historic estate to Laura.
As Laura scrambles to clear her name, she uncovers sinister secrets lurking beneath the town’s idyllic surface. The real murderer is always one step ahead, leaving taunting clues and threatening Laura to leave Texas—or face deadly consequences. With time not a luxury, Laura must untangle the web of deceit before the killer makes her the next victim.
In A Hush at Midnight, Marlene M. Bell twists an amateur sleuth crime mystery into a race against the clock to solve her mentor's murder.
BOOK EXCERPT
A monumental sepia-toned picture hanging over the brick and stone fireplace caught Laura’s eye, and she moved closer to investigate. She flipped the wall light switch to brighten the print’s details. A youthful Hattie in an oversized shirt and pants stood next to a four-engine bomber with a pin-up style girl painted on the fuselage.
“An iconic shot. Tell me about this one.” Laura pointed to the woman in the photo. “That’s you next to the bomber, isn’t it?” She’d remembered that particular aircraft from descriptions in long talks with Hattie. The girl standing in the photo resembled how Hattie would’ve looked in her twenties. Forties pageboy hairstyle and all.
“Me at Avenger Field in Sweetwater. That was ol’ Sheila Mae, the big girl. One of the biggest birds I’ve ever had the privilege to ferry. Did you know that B-17s take ten people to fly them on a mission?”
Laura scrutinized the giant silver aircraft and how small Hattie looked standing next to the wing.
“If you’re wondering about my baggy clothes, the girls had to wear military-issued men’s gear because all the clothes were made for men. Women flying trainers and bombers were unheard of until the WASPs, which stands for Women Airforce Service Pilots. Flying in theater was a men-only job back then. The girls asked to fly in combat, but General Peterson turned us down. He wouldn’t be responsible for women drivers getting blown out of the sky or something like that.” Hattie sighed. “The only things that kept our pants from falling around our ankles were extra wide belts and lots of elastic.” Hattie slapped her thigh and grinned, followed by a cough.
“How did you reach the pedals to fly something that huge?” Laura couldn’t imagine that petite women like herself had an easy time of it in the plane’s cockpit that Hattie had referred to as a Fortress.
“We rigged the seats with pillows so we could see above the instrument panel. We had to work out other things, but a few of us put our heads together and got it done.” Hattie reached for a glazed donut and held it up. “Try these with your coffee; they’re delish.”
“I have something you might like better. Will you be okay for a couple of minutes? I left the cooler in the car.”
“If it’s something made by your hands, I can’t wait.” Hattie set the donut on the plate and licked sugar from her fingertips. “Go ahead.” She flipped her hand toward the door. “Surprise me.”
Laura and Hattie ate the chocolate-glazed profiteroles and drank coffee for at least half an hour, catching up on so much lost time. Although writing letters was a nice pastime, it couldn’t replace a personal interaction where facial expressions said more than reading words on a page. Laura was glad she’d listened to her dad’s advice about driving a couple of hours to see her old friend. How Laura had longed for Hattie’s sense of humor and hearing the crazy recounts about her flying days.
Their near-fatal accidents were terrifying and the tales about frying donuts in their rooms and getting thrown out of the men’s local bar made Laura temporarily forget her irritation with Lucas Olsen, her latest companion of six months.
“Is Nicole a close friend of yours?” Laura asked. “You’re lucky to have someone staying with you.”
“She has her own place with Edith next door.” Hattie took another sip from her third cup of coffee. “Nicole lives at home to help out her mother and comes here to fix my meals and straighten the house. All but Warren’s office beneath the staircase. I keep his door locked with a special key.” Eating the last of her pastry had left custard on her lip. “Nicki’s a good kid. I don’t know what I’d do without her and Jordan, my groundskeeper.”
Two questions answered. Jordan cut the grass and did general maintenance on the property outside, while Nicole took care of Hattie’s indoor needs from the white house next door. Laura wondered what lay inside Warren’s office.
“Is there something I can clean or move for you in his office while I’m here?”
“All in good time.” Hattie held one eye in a wink longer than needed. “The Alamo’s behind that door.”
A conflicting statement if there ever was one.
Laura laughed as she worked through the puzzle. “Don’t tell me; Warren collected Texas battle memorabilia and you, the Staffordshire pieces?”
Hattie nodded. “Right-e-o. I’ve gathered almost every piece of Staffordshire made, large and small. The bigger specimens are upstairs.” Her eyes swept the staircase as she gripped the rocker armrest, then turned her pinpoint gaze on Laura. “I’m glad you stopped by, Laura.” She held up one bony finger. “You do look taller, though.”
A smile stretched across Laura’s face. “I wish. Still four-foot-eleven inches in bare feet.”
Hattie whisked crumbs from her lap blanket. “I adore French pastry, and your profiteroles were crackerjack. Time for a potty break.” She rocked forward with the help of her cane, tossing the throw blanket aside.
Neighbor Nicole banged through the front door with bags of groceries on a trolley cart, traipsing to the kitchen. She pulled along her heavy burden on squeaky wheels.
“I’ll help you to the bathroom. Point me in the right direction.” Laura set her coffee cup down, taking Hattie’s arm.
Hattie chuckled. “Did I ever tell you how I found Jordan trespassing in my barn?”
“What?”
“A few years ago, when I could still check the outbuildings in the mornings, I caught him sleeping in there and helping himself to the drinks in the little fridge. He was stranded on the road between towns. Poor fellow. He needed a job, so I put him to work.”
Laura was surprised at how easily Hattie had offered the stranger a job.
“I had the vacant guesthouse in back and needed the help. Mutually beneficial, as Warren would say. The guest’s quarters are over there around the corner.” Hattie pointed to her left and began coughing. “Sometimes, he takes Moonie.” Another deep-seated cough. “It keeps the little nubbin out of trouble.” Hattie’s coughing grew in intensity, and she had trouble taking breaths in between.
“Hattie, catch your wind.” Laura planted her feet, catching her friend as she lost her balance and swayed on her cane. Her coughing could bring about an embarrassing accident, and Laura knew how prim and proper Hattie would hate that. “How far to the bathroom?” she asked Nicole.
“Just go. I can handle her.” Nicole arrived on the cane side of Hattie with a fresh bottle of cough syrup. “Take a swig.”
Laura’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding. Let her breathe normally first. She’ll choke.”
Hattie patted her chest and cleared her throat as she brushed Nicole’s hand away. Between coughs and gasps, Hattie managed a goodbye wave for Laura.
“I’ll stay with Hattie tonight,” Laura addressed Nicole. “Leave the groceries for now. Hattie needs her rest. I can sit with her.”
Laura’s dear pen pal managed a smile and a short wink.
Nicole folded her arms. “She doesn’t need you. I’ll even sleep on the couch if that makes you feel any better.”
Laura was shocked by the neighbor’s wisecrack in front of Hattie.
“You aren’t making me feel better.” Laura turned to Hattie. “Will you be all right if I leave now? I’ll stay if you want.” Laura hoped that Hattie would ask her to stay, but it was up to her.
Hattie paused, looked sadly into Laura’s eyes, then nodded. “We’ll talk again soon, my girl. I’m fine.”
Grabbing her leather bag from the floor, Laura’s tears welled, spilling down her cheeks. She hated to leave Hattie with someone as uncaring as Nicole. Laura made one last turn to watch the pair move along the hardwood floor and around the staircase.
She exited into chilly blackness on the porch amid a chorus of croaking toads and nighttime crickets.
Almost to Coldspell and full of misgivings, Laura couldn’t shake her feeling of dread for Hattie’s sake. Why did she allow Nicole to steer her away? She should’ve stayed with her mentor and not bowed to the will of a neighbor she knew nothing about.
Laura had to drive back to Stenburg no matter how late it was.
She glanced at the clock on her dash, beyond caring what anyone thought about an after-midnight visitation. Even if she had to nap in her car to make the trip back to Coldspell, she wouldn’t rest until she knew that Hattie was okay.
An inky blanket hung over the property when she arrived. Not a single porch or barn light shone from the Stenburg Estate. Living this far out from town, Laura couldn’t imagine why a dusk-to-dawn light hadn’t been installed. She’d mention it to her dad. Her headlights beamed on the front door and bay window, bright enough to wake someone sleeping on the living room couch. Laura left her Subaru in park with the engine running and jogged up the steps. She knocked quietly on the huge glass pane. If she could rouse the neighbor without waking Hattie, better yet.
A dog barked in the distance. The only sound for miles. Moon Pie should’ve been with Hattie, but Laura picked up no sound from inside the estate house. Surely, Hattie’s pet would notice visitors.
The barking continued, perhaps from a nearby shelter for stray animals.
Laura cupped her hands and peered through the window but was unable to see past the dark glass cloaked by heavy curtains. She knocked more firmly with her knuckles. Other than raising goosebumps on her arms, no one inside rose to open the front door.
Nicole had lied about staying with Hattie and sleeping on the couch.
Laura’s heartbeat quickened as she pounded on the massive door, calling for Nicole or Hattie to let her inside. No human or pet could sleep through the noise she was making. She tried the door and found it as it should’ve been. Locked.
“Hattie! Is anyone in there?” Laura kicked her boot at the door in frustration.
She checked the kitchen and bedroom windows that were too high for her to climb through even if she were lucky enough to find one unlocked. She ran along the wraparound porch, calling for Hattie—her car’s right headlight spotting the way from porch to grass.
The further she went toward the back of the house, the louder the barking became.
Hattie had mentioned that Moon Pie stayed with Jordan in the guesthouse.
Wake Jordan. He’ll find Hattie.
Laura ran to her car and drove behind the building to where the guesthouse connected to the estate via a concrete breezeway. There, she found a sharp-eared corgi with her nose pressed against the window, scratching with her claws and raising all kinds of ruckus.
Where is Jordan, and why is Moon Pie alone in the guesthouse? Laura’s tingling senses told her the scene was all wrong.
She slammed the Subaru into park and faced the dog from the other side of the narrow four-foot window near the guesthouse’s entrance. Laura tried to open the locked metal door by the knob, then gave a strong shove with her shoulder. All she received for her trouble was a sore arm. When she made eye contact with Moon Pie once more, the dog wriggled its rump, whining and whimpering. Crouching to Moon Pie’s level, she placed the flat of her hand on the outside screen, trying to soothe the irate dog with her words. A small gap below the sash showed her that Jordan had left the window slightly ajar for the dog.
Laura caught a whiff of something she couldn’t describe.
Moon Pie had her red nylon lead attached at the collar, as if she’d been dropped inside abruptly.
“Sweetie, I’m coming in.” Laura removed a driving glove, pried the screen from its runners with her nails, and threw it aside.
Moon Pie stuck her nose through the opening and sniffed.
“Don’t bite my fingers.” She replaced the glove on her hand and with all her might, lifted the sash from the gap, sliding it up and open. Enough to squeeze her small frame through sideways.
Moon Pie jumped out then came back to follow her inside, barking madly at her feet. Her boot caught the dog, throwing Laura headlong into the wall. “Honey, quiet. I can’t think.” Laura groped the painted surface with her palm until she found a light switch and flipped it on.
She stood in a bedroom.
Someone lay still on the mattress. Deathly pale.
A crawling sensation moved up her spine. Jordan. As she walked closer to the person, she realized the body was that of a female, partially obscured by a bed pillow. Laura took several labored breaths and sped around the footboard—watching for the rise and fall of the woman’s chest.
A fleeting thought of Nicole went through her mind, quickly dashed by the person’s hair color. Bitterness filled Laura’s mouth and she swallowed hard. Her worst fears had come true.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marlene M. Bell has never met a sheep she didn’t like. As a personal touch for her readers, they often find these wooly creatures visiting her international romantic mysteries and children’s books as characters or subject matter. Marlene is an accomplished artist and photographer who takes pride in entertaining fans on multiple levels of her creativity.
Her award-winning Annalisse series boasts Best Mystery honors for all installments including these: IP Best Regional Australia/New Zealand, Global Award Best Mystery, and Chanticleer’s International Mystery and Mayhem shortlist for Copper Waters, the fourth mystery in the series.
Marlene also writes children's books. Her picture book, Mia and Nattie: One Great Team is based on true events with a bottle lamb. It's a touching story of compassion and love between a little girl and her lamb, suitable for ages three through seven years.
She shares her life with her husband and a few dreadfully spoiled horned Dorset sheep: a large Maremma guard dog named Tia, and cats, Hollywood, Leo, and Squeaks. The animals and nature are the cornerstone for Marlene's books.
Website: https://www.marlenembell.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marlenembell
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marlenemysteries/
Amazon: https://amzn.to/4e7Pm4i
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