KISS! KISS! or BANG! BANG!

When the time comes do you end your series with sweetness and light or with a high body count? How do you say ‘good-bye’ to your characters when a series ends?

Do you end the storyline in such a manner that you can never go back unless you tap the unsatisfying (in my opinion) ‘revivalist’ trick of a dream sequence, or mistaken identity or a miraculous recovery.

Do you end the series in a manner that leaves the possibility, as unlikely as it may be, that all or some or a few of the characters could return?

Do you choose an interesting secondary character and spin off a new series?

The decision to end my series became reality while I worked on the sixth book, The Innkeeper: An Unregistered Death. I am grateful for the advance notice that gave me the opportunity to start pulling in the nine book arc I’d thought the series could be. Knowing two years ahead of time gave me the distance I needed to begin to find what I hoped would be satisfying conclusions to the characters’ stories.

It was a gift and a curse. 

 

As I began to write this last book, I started by doing something I’d never done with the other books. I outlined. I outlined points I wanted to make, situations from earlier books that I wanted to wrap up, relationship resolutions. I had outlines for secondary characters even some tertiary characters.

Then, I experienced something that had never happened before with the earlier books…writer’s block. I sat paralyzed by the thought that I didn’t have the next book to expand a theme, develop a character, massage a plot twist or resolve a relationship. I sat dead in the water at my computer, fingers frozen over the keys while I reviewed my outlines. 

 

Who has struggled with this dilemma? I’d love to hear how you handled, The End.

If you haven't yet read all six of the previous Grace Marsden Mysteries, you can read the first chapter of each one and then purchase the ebooks for just $.99 each -- but only for a limited time -- at www.luisabuehler.com

HAP-HAZARD GARDENER

Sitting in my garden, as I do most Sunday mornings, I am content to absorb the sights and sounds. The coffee is poured, the paper collected from the end of the driveway—it’s 6:00am.

The title isn’t what you think. I am a happy but at times hazardous gardener. My chiropractor grins when I call some Monday mornings begging for an emergency appointment. Aspirin stock soars during the season.

Cutting down long overlooked chokecherry saplings isn’t difficult unless you misjudge the trajectory and the tree deals you a glancing blow on the shoulder.

The deep wheelbarrow filled with dirt from my newly dug fire pit went wobbly on me and I power lifted one side rather than let go and spill the contents. My right arm didn’t work well for a week.

Why do I risk it? I can’t stay away. Over the years of child rearing, working, writing, and living the garden has become my haven, my solace and my therapy. Digging in the dirt is cheaper than therapy. Of course, the plants, the mulch, the garden art, the ancillary necessities might cost as much as therapy but you have something lovely to show for the expense.

Most Sundays I sit quietly and write in my journal grateful for the aspirin the night before and the strong coffee in the morning. We’re having unseasonably chilly weather; I’ve brought a light blanket with me to the garden bench—the one close to the house. The sun is coming up behind the neighbors pine trees.

Is this heaven? No, it’s a garden.

Welcome to the Mystery Garden

The name might seem odd for a blog. Unless the stories are always about mysteries that take place in a garden-- Herbalists for Hire or Shovel Ready: How to Prepare Undetectable Graves, or Plotting whilst Potting.

Sunday morning is my quiet time, my cup of coffee in my garden time, my journaling time. In most weather I’m in my garden at one or more strategic sitting areas. In the early spring my choices are several but by this time of year, the choice is made by which sitting area isn’t grown over with weeds. 

So what’s the mystery?

1. Why do my weeds mimic real plants and grow amidst them until it’s too late to pull the offensive weed without yanking up my intended plant?  

2. Why doesn’t Preen work for me like it does for the woman down the block with a weed free garden? No mystery there. She tells everyone at the ladies club that she Preens a ton (well, 40 lbs at least) but she hires laborers to come in the night and pull the weeds. It’s called moonlighting!  

 3. Why do I buy white phlox but the next year it comes up pink? I tried to establish a White Garden. It’s pink and yellow now. It’s pretty so I leave it alone.  I’m a laid back gardener who tries to see the intrinsic beauty in the weed not yet appreciated by horticulturists. It helps the guilt of sitting, sipping and thinking on Sunday mornings.

I have thought up plots while contemplating my garden. I found all the poisonous plants in my garden—you would be amazed how many—and researched them.  I used Fool’s Parsley in an attempt to kill a dinner guest in the second book. After that book, no one accepts my dinner invitations.   I’m working on a short story about a turf war between garden fairies and garden gnomes. Mostly, I think about my life and my family. I sketch the gazebo I’d like to have in the garden. I doodle new gardens and dream of free mulch and the people to spread it.

One thing is never a mystery—where you can find me on Sunday mornings. So please, stop by each Sunday, bring your coffee and relax.