If Austin Starr Could Talk to You *

By Kay Kendall

My dear friend Larissa is in big trouble. She just called me long distance to say she’s a suspect in a murder case. Good grief, it’s only been a year since my husband David was suspected of murder, and now it’s Larissa. This is too much. I’ll need to get a trench coat and fedora—pretend I’m a private eye—if I keep getting pulled into these cases on a routine basis. 

            Larissa wants me to fly across the continent to give her moral support. The Mounties say she’s the one who killed the leader of her women’s lib group. Of course she didn’t do it. The idea is ludicrous. And, I know I owe her, big time, and want to help her, but I don’t see how I can. Believe me, I’d leave right now if I could. But things have changed since we talked.

            The life-changing event is, well, I’m a mother now. Wyatt is three months old and cute as can be. I can’t possibly take him with me because last time I went sleuthing around, I was almost killed. However, I can’t go alone and leave Wy at home either. David would have a perfect fit if I asked him to babysit. Of course I juggle Wyatt’s child care with my own courses work, but that’s expected. After all, I mean, gosh, I’m the mom. Dads don’t do things like that—not much anyway.

 

           Still, I cannot leave Larissa in the lurch. She’s the only real friend I’ve made since I pulled up stakes and left my home and family in Texas to join my new husband up here, in the Great White North, Canada. You know, it really was kinda neat—how Larissa and I clicked right away. Usually I avoid anyone who is petite like she is. They make me feel like such an oaf. Here I am at five feet eleven, and Larissa is a good ten inches shorter. But she is so much fun, and smart too. The two years difference in our ages seems like nothing. She just turned twenty-one and is still an undergrad.
            I tell Larissa everything. For instance, she’s the only one who knows I was being trained as a spy by the CIA right before I married David. But I could never tell him that. He would not approve, that’s for sure. But Larissa knows and keeps all my secrets. Here’s a funny thing, though. Why didn’t she confide in me she joined a women’s lib group?

            Oh my gosh, the more I think about it, I must fly out to be with her during her time of trouble. I’ll have to put a plan in place. She’ll call me back in an hour and ask if I’m coming.

            Hey, maybe you can help me out. What do you think I should do?  

* Austin Starr is the amateur sleuth in Kay Kendall's two mysteries. Here Austin sets out on her second murder case, Rainy Day Women, the sequel to Kay’s debut Desolation Row. Both are published by Stairway Press.

Meet the author                                                                 

Kay Kendall is a long-time fan of historical novels and now writes atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit and turbulence of the sixties. A reformed PR executive who won international awards for her projects, Kay lives in Texas with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to her bunnies, she loves them anyway!

Her book titles show she's a Bob Dylan buff too. Rainy Day Women  won two Silver Falchion Awards at Killer Nashville in 2016.

Visit Kay at her website  http://www.austinstarr.com/

or on Facebook 

 https://www.facebook.com/KayKendallAuthor

How Mad Men in the Not-so-good-ole Days Made Women Mad Too

By Kay Kendall

The advent of Mad Men on television marked the return of the 60s to the popular consciousness. Before that, the tumultuous decade of the 1960s had a bad rep. It was a divisive time, and people were sick of it. The go-go economy of the 1980s buried “radical chic” in piles of money, and even some famous 60s activists switched to making a buck, big time.

Mad Men on TV was soon followed by fashion trends. Today retro-hippie clothes and accessories are back with a vengeance. I’ve purchased three items with long suede fringe—stockpiling against the day when fringe falls out of style again.

Yet it’s not just 60s fashion that lures me in. I am a fan of that benighted decade. Even before Mad Men hit TV in 2007, I was writing my first mystery set in the 60s. I was following that old maxim, “Write what you know.” As a child of the 60s I had stories to tell.

I also believe that an author should write what she loves—and my favorite books are historical mysteries. I chose my time period guided by the many authors who locate their sleuths and spymasters during the wars of the 20th century. The two world wars and the Cold War are overrun with novels. The war in Vietnam, however, was such a debacle that few want to see it on the big or little screen or read about it in books. Still, it was a comparatively empty niche that I thought needed filling with mysteries. My books show the life of a young woman named Austin Starr—not the radical type who made headlines, the Hanoi Janes or Angela Davises—but a moderate swept along by history’s tides. All that turmoil lends itself to drama, intrigue, and murder.

Rainy Day Women is set in August 1969, in the days between the Charles Manson killings in Los Angeles and the big rock festival in Woodstock—one she had hoped to attend. Instead, Austin flies to the West Coast, where she pursues her knack for solving mysteries, built on her CIA training and inspired by countless Nancy Drew books she read as a child. Austin tries to absolve a dear friend accused of killing a feminist leader and is drawn into the movement. As she learns about it, she learns more about herself.

Second-wave feminism is the backdrop for the story, and Rainy Day Women is set against the historical details of the period. Though that time is long gone, I “bring it all back home” again.* Some details are technological—the endless searching for a much-needed payphone, the need to solve a crime without using CSI-style techniques—and establish how much change our everyday lives have witnessed. Other details are astonishing yet real—notably the casual but overbearing sexist attitudes of way too many men in the book. But that particular kind of madness led to rising anger among women. And then to a whole movement. 

*******

Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, ca. 1965

NOTE: Bringing It All Back Home is a Bob Dylan album from 1965, including such masterpieces as “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” “Mr. Tambourine Man,” and “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” Some literary critics compare Dylan to Shakespeare. I don’t go quite so far but am a staunch fan. That’s why I name my mysteries after his song titles. His work is so vast in scope that his song titles cover every eventuality in fiction that I could ever dream up. His attitudes toward women as portrayed in his lyrics are sexist—true—but he was a man of his times. That’s the best excuse I can make for him, and he certainly fits my material.


Kay Kendall lives in Texas with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. In her former life as a PR executive, Kay’s projects won international awards. And she studied lots and lots of history in school, and loves it still!
  

I’d Rather Be Writing

By Kay Kendall

When USA Today bestselling author  Lois Winston invited me to participate in her new cookbook adventure, I jumped at the chance. After all, the title captured my feelings exactly—WE’D RATHER BE WRITING, subtitled 88 Authors Share Timesaving Dinner Recipes and Other Tips. You can pre-order the eBook for 99 cents and receive it on October 30. A portion of proceeds will be donated to No Kid Hungry. Most of us authors juggle day jobs and family responsibilities along with our writing. Because we need to find time to write, we search for ways to save time. And cooking takes up such a huge chunk.

However, you don’t need to be a multi-tasking author to need time-saving recipes and tips, so in our new cookbook you’ll find easy, nutritious recipes for meat, poultry, pasta, soup, stew, chili, and vegetarian meals. The recipes require a minimum of preparation, freeing time to do other things—to read, exercise, garden, craft, write, spend more time with family, or whatever.

The 88 participating authors make up a varied group, writing a wide range of fiction—everything from mystery to romance to speculative fiction to books for children, young adults, and new adults—and some who write nonfiction. Some write sweet; others write steamy. Some write cozy; others write tense thrillers. Some are debut authors with only one published book; others are multi-published and have had long publishing careers. And, while some are even New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors, even they still need to perform feats of juggling daily.

We like to think of ourselves as a rather creative and resourceful bunch when it comes to carving out time from our busy lives. So in addition to timesaving recipes, we have added timesaving organizational tips too.

Check this list of contributing authors to see whose names your recognize: Lisa Alber, Reggi Allder, Judy Alter, Krista Ames, Rose Anderson, Cori Lynn Arnold, Judy Baker, Beverley Bateman, Donnell Ann Bell, Paula Gail Benson, Kris Bock, Maureen Bonatch, Ava Bradley, Susan Breen, Lida Bushloper, Michelle Markey Butler, Ashlyn Chase, Judy Copek, Maya Corrigan, Mariposa Cruz, Melinda Curtis, Lesley A. Diehl, Conda V. Douglas, Nancy Eady, Helena Fairfax, Jennifer Faye, Flo Fitzpatrick, Kit Frazier, Shelley Freydont, Mariana Gabrielle, Rosie Genova, Marni Graff, Joanne Guidoccio, Margaret S. Hamilton, L.C. Hayden, Linda Gordon Hengerer, Heather Hiestand, R.Franklin James, Kathryn Jane, M.M. Jaye, Elizabeth John, Stacy Juba, Gemma Juliana, Carol Goodman Kaufman, Melissa Keir, Kay Kendall, A.R. Kennedy, Lynn Kinnaman, Marie Laval, B.V. Lawson, Claudia Lefeve, Alice Loweecey, Cynthia Luhrs, Sandra Masters, Lisa Q. Mathews, J.M. Maurer, Sandra McGregor, Kathy McIntosh, Claire A. Murray, Ann Myers, Tara Neale, Stacey Joy Netzel, Jayne Ormerod, Alice Orr, Laurel Peterson, Irene Peterson, Pepper Phillips, Caridad Pineiro, Kathryn Quick, Renée Reynolds, Josie Riviera, Elizabeth Rose, C.A. Rowland, Cindy Sample, Sharleen Scott, Terry Shames, Susan C. Shea, Judy Penz Sheluk, Joanna Campbell Slan, Karen Rose Smith, Lynette Sofras, Kaye Spencer, Skye Taylor, Lourdes Venard, Lea Wait, Regan Walker, Lois Winston, and Aubrey Wynne.

We’d Rather Be Writing is available on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Wed-Rather-Be-Writing-Timesaving-ebook/dp/B01638N5PO

Part of proceeds will be donated to No Kid Hungry < http://www.nokidhungry.org/>
 ~~~~~~~

Kay Kendall is a long-time fan of historical novels and writes atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit and turbulence of the sixties. She is a reformed PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills.
Terribly allergic to her bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she's a Bob Dylan buff too. RAINY DAY WOMEN published on July 7. It is the second in her Austin Starr Mystery series.

http://www.amazon.com/Rainy-Day-Women-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00W2X5SCS

Why I Love to Read

By Kay Kendall

I can’t recall a time when I didn’t love to lose myself in books. Reading is so much a part of me that I take it for granted—like breathing, sleeping, eating.

If you take something for granted, then you usually never stop to question why you are doing that activity. Certainly that was true for me and my passion for books for the longest time. Lately, however, I’ve wondered why I developed this habit of avid reading. Why books and not something else? And to say merely that I ENJOY books and that’s why I read begs the question.

Then the question becomes this instead: Why do I enjoy reading?

Some people have calm, placid minds. I do not. My mind hops around from subject to subject, questioning what it notices, absorbing everything and wanting to learn more. When nothing is going on around me, then I spin stories. This also was true for me as long as I can remember.

I was an only child and had to run outside to find playmates. As a member of the baby boom generation, I had plenty of other children nearby and was fortunate in that regard. However, when I was forced to take an hour-long nap every afternoon during the summer, I never slept. I was always so bored and entertained myself making up stories to while away the time.

Compared with diversions available to children these days, I didn’t have many. My home lacked a television set until I was eight years old. However, there were plenty of books. My parents read constantly and gave me books to read. I suppose my mother must have read to me initially, but I must confess that I can’t recall back that far. Both sets of my grandparents gave me books, but as to which came first, those gifts or being given books because I showed interest in them, I cannot say. The Carnegie Library was my home away from home.

What I do recall is escaping into other worlds when I read. I consumed books like candy. I was hungry for escape and entertainment and learning. I have always loved learning new things—mostly about people, not so much about science and technical things. I wanted to learn about all the people in the world and how they differed and what made them so.

My Kansas hometown of 12,000 people was too small for me. I wanted to learn about the whole wide world. By default, Dallas, Texas, became my mecca as we motored there several times a year to see my paternal grandparents. They were also keen readers. Perhaps reading was a part of my DNA. My Texas grandparents kept every issue of The National Geographic that entered their home over the course of many decades, and their set of Harvard Classics lives today in my own living room.

Some of my childhood friends still love to read too, but others never did and don’t now. This difference puzzled me for some time, but these days, when I look at next-door neighbors and see how little the parents read, I surmise that their children won’t become readers either. I don’t see magazines or books in their home, and I’ve been going over there for more than a decade, so I should know. The two children appear to read only when they’re doing their homework or playing games on iPods. They get lost in their digital world the way I used to get lost in my literary one and still do.

Maybe that is the reason for the big difference right there. What your parents do informs who you are. For example, my son and his wife (an English major in college and now a technical editor) are raising my two grandchildren in a home stuffed with books. My daughter-in-law read to their first child almost from the moment he was born. He taught himself to read by the age of four and now at age seven tears through at least three books a week. To protect the family budget, an E-reader was purchased in order to keep the costs down of supplying my grandson with books to read. His online wish list always holds at least twenty books.

In the end, I am not sure I have answered my own question—why I love to read—but I am sure of one thing. This love of mine has already gone on to the next two generations. And I am content.

(In my next piece on the Stiletto Gang blog, I will consider why “experts say” reading is good for us.)

*******

Kay Kendall is a long-time fan of historical novels and writes atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit and turbulence of the sixties. She is a reformed PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to her bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she's a Bob Dylan buff too. RAINY DAY WOMEN published on July 7--the second in her Austin Starr Mystery series. The audio-book will be out soon. 

http://www.amazon.com/Rainy-Day-Women-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00W2X5SCS

 

 

Maybe It’s Normal, but I Don’t Have to Like It

By Kay Kendall

This month I’m putting final touches on my second mystery, rushing to meet a self-imposed deadline and trying to make up for time lost with my spouse’s recent illness. The waiting period before my editor’s comments arrived was agonizing. That was when I drummed my fingers on the table instead of pounding keys on my PC.

What will my editor say? Is my second book junk compared to my first one? Is it a hopeless mess? Have I lost my touch—that is, any talent that I had to begin with? The days passed. The clock ticked. I chewed my cuticles. I waited. 

All authors who address the agonies of the writing and publishing process

mention that there are always down periods when they doubt themselves. Even those who routinely issue bestselling novels confess to having these feelings.

Okay, so misery loves company. I admit that their angst makes mine lighter by seeming normal. Usually that kind of reasoning works for me.

However! This week while I waited for my editor’s next round of revisions, I decided this was no fun at all. I didn’t care if it was normal. I didn’t care if others felt the same way. I didn’t feel good about anything, and my nerves were shredded.

Yesterday when the long-awaited documents hit my inbox, I opened them immediately, read through the general comments, and scanned the three-hundred-page manuscript that will become RAINY DAY WOMEN, the further exploits of my intrepid amateur sleuth Austin Starr.

After thirty minutes of reading, I realized I had slid into a comfortable groove. I’d been here before with mystery number one, DESOLATION ROW. I recalled enjoying this part of the process—the to and fro with my editor. She’s a good fit with me. We happily spend time choosing the right synonym or arguing about the proper way to spell whiskey. Or whisky, depending what country it comes from. Yes, I had worked through this once with the first book. You bet I could do it again. 

Since I have persevered, not given up, not thrown in the towel, I have moved on to this delicious stage of preparing my manuscript for publication. If it weren’t for the too-tight deadline, I would be having a blast. I cannot burn the midnight oil as I once did—never mind at 30. How about back when I could really tear up the track—when I was 50? <Note to Editor Beth: Yes, I've indulged my flaw--a fondness for cliches--but I usually mean them tongue-in-cheek. I'll enjoy them here all the better to rip them from the ms.>

And so it goes, as my manuscript, my editor, my publisher Stairway Press, and I tramp ever onward to that hallowed publication date. Please mark your calendars, my friends. RAINY  DAY WOMEN sees the light of day—despite its title—on Tuesday, July 7.

                                                        *******

Kay Kendall set her debut novel, DESOLATION ROW--AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel RAINY DAY WOMEN shows her amateur sleuth Austin Starr proving her best friend didn't murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay does for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the 1930s–present atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age. She is also an award-winning international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 

CHANGES—BIG AND SMALL

By Kay Kendall

A few times during my many years, I’ve reached a level of calm stability. My home life and work are nicely balanced. My near and dear ones are healthy and reasonably happy. All seems well.

When I realize I’m in this condition, then I think, ah, this is great. Once this stability becomes stasis, however, I get a little bored. And then things* change, and the hits just keep on a’comin and they don’t let up. At this point, I long to be bored again.

Last August I‘d reached the point of stasis. However, by then I’d learned enough to fear what lay ahead. And, boy, was I right.

>My elderly mother-in-law declined, and my husband spent a month in her faraway city tending to her. She passed on. 

>He immediately was diagnosed with a bad illness and went into gruesome treatment.

>My daughter-in-law had a strange illness that no doctor could fathom.

>A dear friend was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She proceeded to have two strokes. I visited her today in the nursing home.

>My writing had to give way for three months.
>My hairdresser of 22 years retired. 

In short, the roof fell in.                                              

And then the house next door was torn down. See photo.

Now, here’s a funny thing. That house was the worst on our block and had been deteriorating visibly for twenty years. We waited and waited for someone to buy it, to tear it down (this being Houston, after all, and everything gets torn down), and to rebuild. I dreamed of when we'd live beside a McMansion, and our home's value would soar.

When all that finally, finally began to happen, did I rejoice? No, I did not. Instead, I worried. The jackhammers tearing up the cement would hurt our foundation. Our house would develop cracks. The new neighbors would be dreadful. Things, in short, would all go to hell. Or so I worried.

I have discerned a pattern in myself regarding change. After I look forward to—even long for—change, then when it finally arrives, I am displeased. Well, perhaps I do exaggerate. I’m upset a little, and then I do adjust. But not until I have gone through a period of great gnashing of teeth and ranting and raving.

Thank heavens that upset stage has shortened over the years. These days I tend to get on with doing what I must until, one day, I look up and see that everything is all right with my world again. I used to fear I’d get stuck on a cycle I abhorred. Now I know that’s not true. Things do change, whether you really want them to or not. They change.

My husband’s illness has taught me to stay in the half-full position. I eschew the half-empty one. That way happiness does not lie. His condition is dangerous…it could be so much worse. The doctors are fabulous in my large city. He will get well. So the treatment is tough. He will get well. He is lucky. I am lucky.

I now apply this half-full approach to everything I can think of that torments me. I haven't become a Pollyanna. I don’t think everything works out for the best. Instead, I’ve learned good things can grow out of bad. If you only let them.

While all this may not make sense to you, it does to me, and it took me a while to arrive at this philosophical state. I celebrated a major birthday this week, by the way. As my friend (since kindergarten) likes to say, we are still on the right side of the grass.

Once I thought her saying was gruesome. I don’t anymore. It’s accurate. I know I’m lucky to be achieving this large number of years. Some people never do. I'm one of the lucky ones. Tell yourself that, too, no matter what. It can always get worse. Enjoy what you have....By the way, I gave myself a new nickname. You may call me Zen. Or at least…Zen-esque! 

____________________

* For brevity’s sake, I use the inexact term things to cover a multitude of events, conditions, situations, settings, etc. etc 

*******   

Kay Kendall set her debut novel, DESOLATION ROW--AN AUSTIN STARR MYSTERY in 1968. The sequel RAINY DAY WOMEN (June 2015) shows her amateur sleuth Austin Starr proving her best friend didn't murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. A fan of historical mysteries, Kay does for the 1960s what novelist Jacqueline Winspear accomplishes for England in the 1930s–present atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age. She is also an award-winning international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. 

Where I Live Now—AKA What I’ve Learned on Facebook

By Kay Kendall

If you watched me go about my life these days, you would think you know where I live. You would say, why, that’s a snap to answer. She lives in Texas. Look, there’s her house on that Houston street. You can look her up on Google Maps.

Yet, strangely, you would only be partly right. In fact, only one-third correct in your answer—to be exact.

Sure, there’s my normal life and it’s lived in Houston. But to that you must add the year 1969. Living in that year makes up the second third of my life these days. That’s when my work-in-progress takes place, Rainy Day Women. I’ve been living in that world for more than a year now. Moreover, for two years prior, I was living in 1968—the year when my debut mystery is set, Desolation Row. Hence, I have been spending lots of time in the late 1960s for many years now. In fact, I’m going deeper and deeper into the detailed past the longer I write about the late sixties.

(I have a vivid imagination and a good head for detail. I’m surprised when people don’t remember things as I do. Some get downright anachronistic, wanting to put cell phones into a plot where they don’t belong. Boy oh boy, can technology change a story—or ruin it if it’s done incorrectly. But, I digress.)

The third and final piece of my life is now lived online. I’m a gregarious person and as my career as an author has solidified, I’m staying put in my writer’s lair more often than I used to. My husband and I are living a quiet life. So, to reach out to other people, I go to social media several times a day. The majority of that time is spent on Facebook.

Kay says CHEERS to Facebook!

Many of my Facebook friends are boomers, as I am. I can start up a thread on a hot topic from the 1960s or 1970s and watch folks chime in. Then they share my head space with me. I enjoy that a lot. This week’s subject has been what people remember about the Watergate saga. Some of the answers have fascinated me. One man had a neighbor who was one of the good guys attached to the Watergate investigation. Another woman worked for a polling firm in Washington DC that compiled data for the infamous Committee to Re-Elect the President (later nicknamed CREEP, no kidding). She recalled going to the airport to pick up documents and delivering them to the office of the special prosecutor for Watergate...and found it a fascinating time to live in the national’s capital. Since I’m a history buff, I would have loved that too, although I’m sure many would disagree.

The great crime writer Tim Hallinan began a thread on his Facebook page a few days ago that asked his friends to nominate their favorite rock albums. Well! You can imagine how cantankerous that got, with many responders irate that their faves didn’t win. My pick did not win—it was a Dylan album, naturally—Blonde on Blonde. I was not irate, however, since I won a free copy of one of Tim’s mysteries. Since the only other thing I’ve ever won in my life was a flashlight, I was thrilled beyond words.

On Facebook I’m drawn to historical detail, interesting trivia, and those silly BuzzFeed quizzes. On the most recent quizzes, I scored ten out of ten for world history, found out that the classic novel that best fits my personality is Pride and Prejudice, and was told that among Jungian archetypes I turn out to be the sage.

Two fascinating posts hooked my interest over the past week. First, one FB friend had discovered a parakeet in her backyard. She wasn’t able to find the owner but did turn up a neighbor who had also lost her parakeet. The neighbor agreed to take the bird, vowing to search for the real owner and if s/he wasn’t found, then she would adopt the lost bird. People commented on this, explaining similar situations. This was fun and interesting. Sadly, a second Facebook friend lamented that her sister who suffered from angina had died. The sister had forgotten to carry her nitroglycerine tablets. When she had an attack, no one could revive her. That true story devastated me.

I guess I’ve always lived in my head. As an only child, I read a lot, as many potential writers do. I just didn’t know that at the time. First it was horse stories and fairy tales, then Nancy Drew and Little Women, followed by the grand Jane Eyre. After that it was more and more classics. Someone told me I should read all the classic novels in order to be prepare for my SAT tests, and boy, did I go at it. At sixteen I was far too young to appreciate the finer points of Anna Karenina, but I could tell you the plot of it and dozens of other great novels.

Last summer I went back to Kansas for my high school reunion. Along with a few dear, long-time friends I trotted around our old high school building and reminisced. Pal Nancy could tell each of us where our lockers had been and where our homerooms were. Most of us had no idea, although I was more clueless than most. I’m guessing I was lost in my head back then too. Nancy, however, must have been fully present in order to recall all that detail of her life in high school.  

Do you live in your head a lot, like me? Do you enjoy Facebook? Do you have another favorite among the social media types? Or do you loathe the whole scene?

That’s all I’ve got for now, my friends. I feel the comments on Facebook tugging at me. Excuse me while I succumb to their sirens’ song.

+++++++

 Kay Kendall set her debut novel, Desolation Row—An Austin Starr Mystery, in 1968. The Vietnam War backdrop illuminates reluctant courage and desperate love when a world teeters on chaos. Kay’s next mystery, Rainy Day Women (2015) finds amateur sleuth Austin Starr trying to prove a friend didn’t murder women’s liberation activists in Seattle and Vancouver. 

Kay is an award-winning international PR executive living in Texas with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to bunnies, she loves them anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too.

Stories—Tell Me Yours

By Kay Kendall

I write historical murder mysteries, and my chosen time period is the turbulent era of the 1960s. My work in progress is set in 1969, entitled Rainy Day Women. This time my amateur sleuth, Austin Starr, gets drawn into a murder investigation when her best friend, Larissa Klimenko, is suspected of killing a leader in the women’s liberation movement. The action takes place in those notoriously rain drenched cities of Seattle, Washington, and Vancouver, British Columbia.

Like my debut book, Desolation Row, this second one takes its name from the title of a famous Bob Dylan song. Dylan’s oeuvre is so vast and so comprehensive that I can find almost anything I need to illustrate among his song titles. Luckily for me, titles of creative works are not covered by copy write law. When members of the boomer generation see the titles of my mysteries, almost all of them will know that the books will either take place in the sixties—or at minimum evoke them.

If you are reading this, you may scoff when I say that what I write is historical fiction. It’s not that long ago, you may think. Why, perhaps you yourself lived during that time. That cannot be history.

But, no, it is history. That time is dead and gone. Five decades gone.

Last week I spoke to classes at a community college in Alabama. Only about two in one hundred students had heard the name of Bob Dylan. Moreover, none of them knew why the United States was drawn into fighting a war in Vietnam. And none of them had ever heard of the “domino theory.”

Yep, stick a fork in the sixties. They are done.

One reason I choose to write about that time period is to describe its importance to those who know nothing about it. Reading fiction is an easy way to learn about history.

The other reason is to commemorate and revivify a part of American history that has had far reaching effects. Societal upheaval was so intense in the 1960s that the aftershocks still are felt today. We have only to watch TV news to see the rage called forth by the changing, broadening roles of women to realize that these ideas are not yet settled.

While Desolation Row looks at the consequences of the Vietnam War, the anti-war movement, and personal outcomes from military service...in Rainy Day Women, I explore the hopes for female improvement held by early members of the women’s liberation movement.

Participating in that movement was one of the most important intellectual endeavors I ever undertook. The magnitude of changes that the movement made in me cannot be underestimated. In my daily life, I speak occasionally about this, but I seldom hear others do so.

I know that there are other women whose lives were changed as mine was. I would love to hear your stories.

In my first book I used one real military tale from World War II. I felt it was almost a sacred experience that I didn’t want to disrespect by making up events…although I certainly fictionalized them enough so that no one can tell whose stories they were.

Similarly, in my new book, Rainy Day Women I would like to include a few real memories from real women who participated in women’s liberation groups.

Whatever you’ve got to share, I am eager to listen. Rest assured, I will not incorporate your words into my writing without asking your permission. I hope you will let me hear from you. 

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Kay and her bunny Dusty

Kay Kendall is an international award-winning public relations executive who lives in Texas with her husband, five house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. A fan of historical mysteries, she wants to do for the 1960s what novelist Alan Furst does for Europe in the 1930s during Hitler's rise to power--write atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age.

Discover more about her at 

http://www.KayKendallAuthor.com