Being Thankful

Elizabeth Zelvin

Since I’m the Deadly Daughter who blogs on Thursdays, each year I have the delightful task of acknowledging Thanksgiving. Even in this terrible economy and the challenges of the times we live in, I have much to be thankful for this year. One of the nicest things about thankfulness is that it’s infinitely expandable. Rather than having to choose the one person, event, or object I’m happiest about, I can make a list.

Let’s start with the publication in 2008 of my first mystery (and first published novel), Death Will Get You Sober. My husband and I were looking at my high school yearbook the other night. There it was in black and white: in 1960, I already wanted to be a writer. “I am a writer, right?” I said. “Absolutely,” he said. I’ve been writing since I was seven, but a published novel is incontrovertible evidence that I still needed in spite of my two books of poetry, my professional writing on codependency and addictions and gender and online therapy. And this is the year it happened.

Of equal value or greater in my thankful heart: my two granddaughters. These two little girls are a miracle to me. The older one, who’s four, is a drama queen and a bit of a smartass, in the nicest possible way. Last time I saw them, they were on their way to the Bahamas for a vacation en famille. (My son and his wife, who are terrific parents, never get tired of their children, so I never get to babysit without supervision.) Katie asked if I’d like her to bring me something from the Bahamas. I didn’t want her to embarrass her mother with demands for, say, expensive jewelry for Grandma, so I said maybe she could bring me a seashell or something. Katie’s look made it clear I’d missed the point. “Do you want sand?” she asked, “or do you want water?” The little one, with her joyous grin, thinks that a camera or any other object held up to the eye is called, “Cheese!”



Back to books: I’m deeply thankful that St. Martin’s will publish the next in my mystery series, Death Will Help You Leave Him. I don’t have cover art yet, but having a series is even better than having a single mystery. I’m thrilled that I can go on hanging out with Bruce and Jimmy and Barbara as they tackle more murder and a number of addictive relationships. I’m thankful for the exponential growth in my ability to critique my work, see what’s wrong or too much, and kill my darlings when I have to. I’m thankful for the decrease in a lifelong shyness that enabled me to schmooze my way across the country on my book tour, enjoying every minute. I’m thankful for the Agatha nomination for my first short story, “Death Will Clean Your Closet,” and even more for my new and unexpected ability to write a short story now and then. It broadens my reach as a writer and provides, if not instant gratification, a respite from the prolonged agony of writing a novel.

The next item is one that’s so unprecedented that I couldn’t bear to omit it, with all due respect to any reader who may not feel the same: I am thankful for the result of the recent election. It’s been forty years since I’ve had any confidence in the American political process or hope that a candidate with integrity and intelligence would stand up and speak out without equivocation. I hope the world gets cleaner, kinder, more honest, and more peaceful in the next four years, and I’m grateful we have a shot at it.

This list could go on and on, but I’ll mention just one more composite item. I’m thankful for the many wonderful people in my life: family, friends, and fellow mystery lovers who have shared the 2008 leg of my journey. I’m thankful for the 60-odd people who showed up at my book launch in April; the 300 Guppies who shared the ups and downs of my journey to publication and beyond; the 20 or so members of my junior high school class with whom I’ve been having an extended and heartwarming reunion after 51 years. I’m thankful to and for everyone who bought my book and everyone who housed and fed me and transported me and came to my signings on my book tour. I’m thankful for Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime en masse, as well as everybody on DorothyL and CrimeSpace and Murder Must Advertise, all the mystery and indie booksellers and librarians I've met, the chain bookstore staff who made me welcome, and reviewers who enjoyed my book and said so, everybody at my publisher’s who’s helped make this dream come true, and my fantastic agent.

Sure, winning the lottery would be nice. So would having a bestseller or a movie option. But this year I already have everything of any importance that I could possibly be thankful for.

Being Thankful

Elizabeth Zelvin

My family never called Thanksgiving Turkey Day, as many people do nowadays, but if it had ever been suggested, as we sat down to the annual feast, that we go around the table and say what each of us was thankful for, they would have been surprised and mildly embarrassed. This doesn’t mean my parents didn’t appreciate the many good things in their lives: health, prosperity, family, and more than their fair share of brains and longevity. But thanksgiving in the spiritual sense was not in their vocabulary.

It’s Thanksgiving Day, and I don’t know how many online readers will be checking blogs today. But it seems like a good opportunity to mention a few things that I’m thankful for this year.

First, since this is a mystery lovers’ blog, let me mention The Book. Death Will Get You Sober will be published by St. Martin’s Press on April 15, 2008. The date will also mark my sixty-fourth birthday. I first announced I wanted to be a writer at the age of seven. You do the math. How can I not be deeply, deeply thankful for the fulfillment of this long cherished and elusive dream?

I’m equally thankful for my two beautiful granddaughters. There’s a saying about the way to leave one’s mark upon the world: Write a book, have a child, plant a tree. I’m very thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to do all three. I wish we had a better world to offer our kids, but for the moment, the ones with some of my genes are healthy and happy and getting plenty of love.

From the many additional items on my list, let me pick just one: that exasperating marvel of 21st century technology, the Internet. It’s given me quick access to friends all over the world, including my blog sisters on Poe’s Deadly Daughters and a huge support community of writers and mystery lovers. It puts whatever information I need at any given moment at my fingertips. It’s given me the ability to help people in need and make a living doing it, in my other “hat” as an online therapist. And as my family would be glad to tell you, that this right-brained anything-but-a-techie has managed to learn to use a computer at all is a miracle for which I am indeed thankful.