What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction? The original version was begun in August of 2017 (Above Middle) and underwent many rewrites (and two publishers) before this version was completed in May of 2019 (Below)
Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please include a photo? I do all of my writing at my computer in my den. Most of this book was done in my den in my apartment in New Jersey, but the reboot version for Beyond the Page was done in my den in my new home in Phoenix, AZ. My den in NJ was much smaller, barely bigger than a postage stamp, and I had a hutch-style desk where my computer was hooked up My den in AZ is bigger. (Below) Plus, I have floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in this room (the better to store reference materials, my dear!). My desk now faces a window with a lovely view of my courtyard and the beautiful blue Arizona sky.
What were your writing habits while writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? Well, back when I first started this book I was still working, so most of my writing was done on the weekends, Saturday and Sunday. I write directly on the computer and if you saw my handwriting you would know why. I do, however,sometimes make handwritten notes if I’m watching tv and a thought occurs to me – most often this happens late at night. I’ll wake up out of a sound sleep with a plot point and I have to write it down because if I don’t I can pretty much kiss it goodbye. Listening to music is a must when I write – I need the white noise to concentrate. I love listening to my Phantom of the Opera CD, and I have another favorite, the movie soundtrack from Music and Lyrics. Who knew Hugh Grant could sing?
Music and Lyrics.
Please include just one excerpt and include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer.
Beginning, pages 1-5
+ONE
“Excuse me. Do you have any Tomkins Hairball Remedy?”
I glanced up from the assortment of catnip balls I’d been sorting and smiled at the short, gray-haired woman who stood uncertainly at my counter. She reminded me of my late aunt-iron gray hair done into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, a smooth, unlined face, and sharp blue eyes that peered at me over the rims of her tortoiseshell glasses. I smiled at her. “I’m sorry, we’re not open for business yet.”
Her penciled brows drew together, and the corners of her lips drooped down. “Oh? I saw the lights on, and the door wasn’t locked.”
“My bad. I forgot to lock it after me, I’m afraid.” I pushed a stray curl out of my eyes. “I am planning on reopening the store, but I only came into town a few days ago. As for your question, I really don’t know. I was just taking an inventory, trying to determine what stock I need to order.”
“Oh.” She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered at me more closely. “You’re Tillie’s niece.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” I wiped my hand on the sides of my jeans and extended it to her. “Crishell McMillan.”
“Grace Poole.” She took my hand, shook it briefly, then released it and leaned against the counter. Her head cocked to one side. “You’re the actress.” Once again, not a question. Although the way Grace Poole said it, it sounded more like a death sentence.
“Right again,” I said, “although I guess you could say I’m an ex-actress. I’ve retired.”
Grace Poole stared at me. “Retired? But you’re so young! You can’t be more than twenty-five!”
“You’re very kind. I’m thirty-eight.” I amended. Unlike most actresses, I’d never been shy about revealing my real age. “Still young, true, only trust me, not by Hollywood standards.”
Up until two months ago I was better known as Shell Marlowe, one of the stars of a popular cable tv show, Spy Anyone. My character, Hermione DuVal had been a large part of my life for ten years, yet that role seemed a lifetime ago. I’d gotten word the series had been cancelled two days before receiving a telegram from my mother informing me of my Aunt Tillie’s passing. Out of the two events, my aunt’s passing was the more traumatic to me. When I’d found out she’d left me not only her Victorian mansion in Fox Hollow, Connecticut with all its contents but also a healthy assortment of stocks and bonds and the Purr N Bark Pet Store, I’d felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I’d grown sick and tired of the phony Hollywood scene. I jumped at the chance to make a fresh start three thousand miles away.
Besides, I’d always harbored a secret desire to be a veterinarian. Managing a pet store seemed like the next best thing.
The woman looked so forlorn that I held up one finger. “Just a minute, Ms. Poole. I thought I saw something here before…” I ran my finger along the boxes that graced the shelf in back of me, grabbed one and held it out to her. “It’s not the Tomkins brand, but I have used this on my own cat. It’s pretty good.”
Grace Poole’s eyes brightened as she snatched the box from my outstretched hand. “Jordan’s. I’ve heard of it. This’ll do.” She started to reach inside her purse. “How much?”
I waved my hand. “Consider it a free sample. And I do hope you’ll come back and visit once we’re officially open for business.”
“Oh, you can bet on that.” Grace stuffed the box into the voluminous floral tote slung over one arm. “We’ve been hoping and praying that the business would continue. Fox Hollow needs their pet store. The others on the highway are so…impersonal.” She paused. “Not to mention a pain in the you know where to get to. Do you have an opening date in mind?”
“There’s a lot of straightening up I need to do first, but I’m hoping by the end of the month.”
“Wonderful. I’ll tell my friends. They were all worried too.” She turned, paused and looked at me over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Crishell.”
“Call me Shell.”
Grace tossed me a wave and bustled out the door. I uncrossed my legs and stood up with a groan. “Boy, this not going to the gym every day sure takes a toll on your muscles,” I observed.
“Ow-orrr!”
I glanced down and saw a sleek brown form wriggle out from underneath the counter. My coffee-colored Seal Point Siamese had been a birthday gift from my mother two years ago after I’d hinted at adopting a shelter cat. “No daughter of mine is going to have a mutt animal,” she’d hissed as she’d pressed the basket into my arms. Actually, the name on the cat’s papers is Her Royal Highness Tao T’Sung, but there was no way I was going to call a cat Your Royal Highness, so instead I’d started searching the Internet for suitable names. The problem was solved the next morning when I found her curled up in my liquor cabinet, her paws wrapped around a bottle of Kahlua, my favorite liqueur. Problem solved.
I reached down and gave Kahlua a scratch behind her ear. She jumped up on the counter and licked my hand with her rough tongue. I picked her up and cuddled her against my chest. “What do you think, Kahlua?” I whispered. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but I can just visualize the finished product. We’ll make Aunt Tillie proud yet.”
Kahlua’s head butted my chin. “Merow.”
I chuckled. “I’m glad you agree.”
My pants pocket started to vibrate. I set Kahlua back on the floor and fished out my I-Phone. I took a look at the Caller ID and stifled a groan. I was so tempted to let it go to voicemail, but he’d only keep calling. This was his fiftieth call in two days. I squared my shoulders and hit the answer button. “Yes, Max?”
“Oh my God. Did I finally get you and not a recording? I thought you’d have come to your senses by now. What’s gotten into you? Why have you thrown away a promising career to tend to the needs of cats and dogs? Why? Tell me why!”
My agent Max Molenaro’s nasally whine reminded me just why I’d been avoiding taking his calls. I’d started to forget just how pitchy his voice could get when he didn’t get his way. “I guess it all depends on your definition of a promising career,” I said.
“Your aunt didn’t say you had to run that business personally, did she?” Max snapped. “I’m sure you could find someone capable to run it, and you could fly in once or twice a month to check up on things. I know you, Shell. You’re used to bustle and bright lights. Small town living isn’t for you.”
I exhaled a long breath. “This has nothing to do with small town living, as you put it, does it Max? This is about the Spy Anyone cable reboot, isn’t it?”
The silence stretched on for so long that I thought we’d somehow gotten disconnected (which wouldn’t have bothered me in the least, by the way) and then Max spoke up. “The cable reboot could be your door, Shell, not that pet store. Aw, Shell, you weren’t cut out to sell dog food and kitty litter. You were born to act.”
I stifled a laugh. “I think you have me confused with my mother.” My mother, Clarissa McMillan, was a classically trained actress who’d enjoyed a long career on the Broadway stage. She’d always had something to say about my career, and had never approved of my role choices. She’d always had something derogatory to say about the cable show, calling it ‘a cheap James Bond ripoff’. I had no doubt she’d be even less thrilled about my selling dog food and kitty litter, which was one reason why I hadn’t told her about my decision yet. “No doubt she would agree with you, but my answer is still the same. No.”
A few more seconds of silence and then Max blurted out, “Tell me the truth, Shell. Is Gary the reason you don’t want to do the new series? Because if it is, we…we can do something about him.”
I switched the phone to my other ear. “Do something about him? That sounds ominous.” Not that I hadn’t been tempted to do away with Gary many times myself. He could be a sweetheart, but he could also be a royal pain in the you know where. “Relax. My decision has nothing to do with Gary, Max. I just want to do something different with my life. I want to be my own boss for a change.”
“I can understand that. But does it have to be running a pet store?”
“The people of Fox Hollow have always been big animal lovers. They cherish their pets, and my aunt knew that. Max, you should see this place! It’s got every type of pet need one could ever imagine!” As I spoke, my eyes roamed over the store’s vast shelves, stocked to the brim with toys for cats and dogs, beds, litter pails, and the like. My aunt hadn’t catered solely to cats or dogs, either: There was a section for live parakeets and parrots, some fish tanks, and cages where hamsters, guinea pigs and even rats had been kept. They were all empty right now, but I was hopeful to have them refilled within the next few weeks. I’d also planned to contact several local shelters to see if we could arrange to hold ‘Adopt A Pet’ Saturdays once a month. “You know I’ve always loved animals. Besides becoming a veterinarian, this is the next best thing.” I snapped my fingers. “Which reminds me-I have to put an ad in the paper for an assistant. Know anyone who’d be interested in giving dogs a bath and clipping cat’s claws?”
“Not off the top of my head,” he said dryly. He hesitated briefly and then said, “Would this life altering decision of yours have anything to do with Patrick?”
My throat constricted and my heart skipped a beat at the mention of my former director slash fiancée. I swallowed over the lump and replied, “I won’t deny that putting distance between me and Patrick held a certain amount of appeal, but it wasn’t the only deciding factor.”
I could hear him snicker, although he tried to hide it. “I’ll bet you my next commission you’ll be on the next plane to LA in a month.”
I laughed. “I hate to take your money, Max. You work so hard for it.”
“So your mind is made up? There’s nothing I can do to change it?”
“Nope.”
Another long sigh. “Well, then, I wish you luck, Shell, although…I’ve got to warn you, though – Gary probably won’t be thrilled by this news.”
My nose wrinkled. I could well imagine my former co-star’s reaction, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t told him I was moving either. “Gary will be fine. He’s like a cat. He always lands on his feet. Trust me, he’ll be thrilled. Now he can convince the new producers to hire a young chippie as his new sidekick.”
“It’s not that easy.” He hesitated and then said, “I might as well tell you the truth. You were the one the producers really wanted. Without you, I doubt there’ll be much interest in the new series. But that’s not your problem. Take care, Shell – oh, wait! Are guest roles totally off the table?”
Click.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt? Beginnings are always the toughest part of the book to write for me, especially when it’s the first in a series. You have to introduce the characters in a way that’s not boring to the audience. Writing the Pet Shop or I should say, the “Shell’ mysteries were an emotional roller coaster, mainly because of the many professions we had her going through. She started out as a potential owner of a B&B, then an owner of a movie memorabilia shop, a bakery, and finally we ended up with the pet shop because that was what the editor at St. Martin’s wanted at the time (side note: the editor got fired and my agent resubbed the book to Midnight Ink, who took it with the Pet shop premise.) I was getting pretty frustrated during all these incarnations and I was afraid that it would creep though into the writing, but fortunately it did not. And now Shell and company have found new life (as have my Nick and Nora mysteries) with Beyond the Page. Im contracted for books 1-4 of Pet Shop with BTP, and we’ll see if there will be more after that.
One thing I will say: Every one of my series, Nick and Nora, Pet Shop, and Pet Rescue, was completely changed in one way or another before being purchased by the publisher. Frankly it’s gotten to be something I expect, but whatever gets the book out there. I am nothing if not flexible and my agent has called me the “Queen of Rewrites”.
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? And can you please include a photo of your marked up rough drafts of this excerpt? No particular deletions from that excerpt and no photos, but below is the original beginning from the first version, written in 2014. The original title was “Charity Begins with Murder” Some lines were kept but mostly everything changed.
ONE
“Shell, listen to me. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”
I shifted the box I held in my arms and tucked my cell more firmly under my chin. “I can understand why you’d think so, Max, but I disagree,” I said calmly. “I’ve thought about it long and hard and believe me, it’s the right thing to do.”
“But why?” my agent’s nasally whine reverberated in my ear. I hadn’t spoken to him in two weeks, and I’d forgotten how pitchy his voice could get when he didn’t get his way. “Why are you just throwing away this opportunity?”
“It all depends on your definition of opportunity.” My gaze roved over the piles of boxes deposited less than an hour ago by the movers, to the framed poster I’d unwrapped and laid in the hallway of the stately Victorian mansion. The guy, with a full head of impeccably styled hair was drop dead handsome in a Brooks Brothers suit – the girl wore an impossibly short skirt, blonde bangs that covered her eyebrows and a wide smile. They stood back to back, each with a smoking .45 clenched in their hands. “I had a good run on Spy Anyone. My character grew over the years, from an impetuous twenty-something to a seasoned mature pro. Am I sad the show’s been cancelled? Sure – but let’s face it, it was time.” I bit back a chuckle. “I’m getting a bit long in the tooth to be jumping out of airplanes and climbing up the sides of buildings, don’t you think? After all, I am nearly forty years old – it’s about time I did something dignified.”
“You wouldn’t be doing anything like that in the cable reboot,” my agent said quickly. “Instead of risking your life in the field, you’d be the mature one behind the desk, sending the younger agents out on the death defying assignments you used to handle. It’s a great opportunity, Shell. Would I lie to you?” He paused and then added, “And you don’t look a day over thirty-one. Honest.”
I bit back a chuckle. “Thanks Max, but I’m not interested in doing another series.”
“Are you absolutely certain, Shell? Because CVX will pretty much let you write your own ticket.”
“I’m sure,” I said firmly. “I’ve done nothing but act since I graduated college. I want – I need – to try something new.”
His voice rose to a slightly higher pitch, one I’m certain every dog within a twenty-mile radius could hear. “And just what would that be, exactly? Acting’s in your blood, Shell, you can’t deny it…look, tell me the truth – is it Gary? Is he the reason you don’t want to do the new series? Because if it is, we…we can do something about him.”
I set the box down on the floor and switched the phone to my other ear. “Do something about him? That sounds ominous.” Not that I hadn’t been tempted to do away with Gary many times myself. He could be a sweetheart, but he could also be a royal pain in the you know where. Basically, we’d enjoyed a brother-sister camaraderie, although the media had tried to paint it as more of a romantic liason, since our characters were involved on the show. I let out a long breath. “My decision has nothing to do with Gary, Max. I’m just burned out, is all. I’m ready to try something new, and thanks to my Aunt Tillie I can take my time to figure out just what that is.”
My Great-Aunt Matilda “Tillie” Washburn, who’d never had children of her own and had always been more like a mother to me than my own, had passed at the ripe old age of ninety-two and left me not only a healthy assortment of stocks and bonds, but her stately Victorian mansion in Fox Hollow, New York – complete with her extensive collection of antiques. My aunt had been an avid collector, and some of my fondest memories were of spending summers in Fox Hollow and going with her to different antique shops, flea markets and the like. My aunt always found something old, unique and rare to add to her vast collections, which ranged from music boxes to dolls to furniture. Looking back, I knew that was most likely why I’d decided to major in art history in college.
“You inherited an old house with even older furnishings – is that how you want to spend your days, Shell?” Max sniffed. “Polishing your aunt’s furniture and dusting off her button collection?”
“Doesn’t sound half bad to me,” I responded. “One has to have a healthy appreciation for the old before they can appreciate the new.”
“That’s what you say now,” he said flatly. “But you’ll miss it all, Shell. You’ll miss the glamour, the glitz, the parties, the premieres…”
“The working till midnight, the script changes that had to be learned on a dime, the five a.m. calls,” I finished. “Maybe I will, Max, maybe I will. But it’s something I need to find out for myself.”
He was silent for a long moment and then said, “Would this life altering decision of yours have anything to do with Patrick?”
My throat constricted and my heart skipped a beat at the mention of my former director slash fiancée. I swallowed over the lump and replied, “I won’t deny that putting distance between me and Patrick held a certain amount of appeal, but it wasn’t the only deciding factor. It’s time for a change. Who knows? I might even turn Aunt Tillie’s house into a B&B.”
I could hear him snicker, although he tried to hide it. “I’ll bet you my next commission you’ll be on the next plane to LA in a month.”
I laughed. “I hate to take your money, Max. You work so hard for it.” “So your mind is made up? There’s nothing I can do to change it?”
“Nope.”
Another long sigh. “Well, then, I wish you luck, Shell, although…I’ve got to warn you, though – Gary probably won’t be thrilled by this news.”
My nose wrinkled. I could well imagine my former co-star’s reaction, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t even told him I was moving. “Tell him that now he can get a young chippie to be his new sidekick.”
“It’s not that easy.” He hesitated and then said, “I might as well tell you – you’re the one the producers really want. Without you, I doubt there’ll be much interest in the new series. But that’s not your problem. Take care, Shell – oh, wait! Are guest roles totally off the table?”
Click.
