A Tale of the Season

by Rochelle Staab, LCC2016 Member at Large

‘Twas a month of holidays, and inside my house,

My new mystery struggled with each move of my mouse.

Characters argued on the Word doc with glares,

In hopes that a third act soon would be there.

A killer was loose, the victim was dead,

But visions of a Lefty fled from my head.

The first act was brilliant, the second was crap,

What I needed was a respite from my creative gap.

The front of my mind was filled with such blather,

I sprang from my desk to shake off the chatter.

Away to the kitchen I flew in a flash,

Tore open a beer, and felt like trash.

The foam on the rim of my just-poured brew,

Brought visions of bar chats with the old writing crew.

And what to my sadly blocked mind should appear?

A banquet hall podium, and a room filled with cheer!

Toastmaster Catriona, so lively and genius,

I knew in a minute it was Left Coast Crime Phoenix!

With rapid determination, my goal so plain,

I flew back to the computer and registered my name!

New panels! Fun receptions! The free books are swell!

See Hurwitz and Cleeves! Chat up Catriona and Chantelle!

An escape from cold weather at the bar in the Hyatt!

I’ll dash off to Phoenix! Left Coast Crime is a riot!

In February my smile will be wide as a bow,

In the Arizona climate instead of the snow.

I’ll be with friends in the lobby, acting my jolly old self.

I laughed when I thought of it, in spite of myself!

In a wink of the eye, plot lines filled my head,

I wrote late into the night with nothing to dread.

With the promise of a break, my block was cleared.

Relieved, in a twinkling, my third act appeared.

As I rewrote Act Two, and worked to The End,

I couldn’t believe the novel I had penned.

My eyes had a twinkle! My attitude zesty!

I finished a story worthy of a Lefty!

I spoke not a word, glued to my work.

I finished the editing, then turned with a jerk.

Santa winked with a smile at my brilliant new prose,

With a reassuring nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like a targeted missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight:

“And that, my friend, is why this season every writer should gift himself with a registration to 2016 Left Coast Crime in Phoenix. February? Arizona? No brainer.”