News About THE COLD ROOM (formerly Edge of Black)

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THE COLD ROOM RELEASES FEBRUARY 23, 2010!

(From the JT Ellison Newsletter)

There's a saying the French use:

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

It roughly translates to: the more things change, the more they stay the same. And if there's one thing I've learned about the publishing industry, it's that change happens. A lot!

With that in mind, I have some very exciting news. We are making some major changes to Book Four in the Taylor Jackson series.

First, there's a redesign, inside and out. We'll have new cover art soon. The release date has moved as well. As always, the book will be available in stores the Tuesday before that day. The new official release date is March 1, 2010. It will be available on Tuesday, February 23.

But the biggest news of all is a title change.

Formerly known as Edge of Black, Book Four is now...

THE COLD ROOM

He Can Only Truly Love Her Once Her Heart Stops


Homicide Detective Taylor Jackson thinks she's seen it all in Nashville—from the Southern Strangler to the Snow White Killer. But she's never seen anything as perverse as the Conductor. Once his victim is captured, he contains her in a glass coffin, slowly starving her to death. Only then does he give in to his attraction.

When he's finished, he creatively disposes of the body by reenacting scenes from famous paintings. And it seems similar macabre works are being displayed in Europe. Taylor teams up with her fiancé, FBI profiler Dr. John Baldwin, and a New Scotland Yard detective named James "Memphis" Highsmythe, a haunted man who only has eyes for Taylor, to put an end to the Conductor's art collection.

Has the killer gone international with his craft? Or are there dueling artists, competing to create the ultimate masterpiece?

I hope you will accept my apologies. I know it's frustrating to have to wait a few extra months for the book to come out. But I promise, it will be worth it. And don't worry if you've already pre-ordered the book - you don't have to change a thing.

This also means that I won't be touring this fall. My schedule is always full, though, as you can see in the right column. I will be at SIBA and at Bouchercon, and I am thrilled to be participating in the Southern Festival of Books here in Nashville. I hope to see many of you there.

In the meantime, please keep tuning in at JTEllison.com. We'll be debuting a new website in the coming weeks, a one-stop shop for the books, my blog, podcasts and interviews, contests, and of course, wine tips!

I'll drop y'all another line for our regularly scheduled quarterly missive in July, and debut the cover art for THE COLD ROOM.

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful, safe and book-soaked summer!

Of Vampires and Jumpers

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I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that for writers, life can sometimes seem like a series of vignettes, a compilation of observations that we distill into experiences and memories that propel our work. I’d even postulate that crime fiction writers get a wealth of inspiration from the everyday life going on around us – let’s face it, there is no desert when it comes to crime as inspiration. Just look at your evening news, the majority of lead stories are crime related. If it bleeds, it leads.

I know this is true for me. And over Christmas, I had an experience that shaped my view, sparked an idea, and gave me creative sustenance. I just wasn’t happy about it.

Hubby and I were heading to my parents, and their house is on an island. There are two bridges over to beachside, and we were heading toward the South Causeway, a relatively new structure that allows for large-mast ships to pass through on their journey along the Indialantic waterway. The North Causeway is still a charming drawbridge, the South is mammoth by comparison.

As we reached the base of the bridge, there were cop cars littering the road, and they were directing people to turn away. There have been some terrible accidents on the bridge – the speed limit is much too high, so the first thought was bad smash-up. But I saw a few people walking around at the top and realized, no. It was worse. It was a jumper.

Now, this bridge is big enough to do some serious damage if you went over unwittingly. About four stories high. Not a guaranteed death, but you’d get hurt. Badly.

I was horrified at my immediate reaction. We must pull over. I need to see this. I can work this into a story. I need to assimilate the scene, burn the images into my mental retinas. Before I knew it, I was vocalizing my thoughts. I told hubby we needed to stop. I heard myself giving him directions into the local library parking lot, which sits at the base of the bridge. There was already a group of people doing the same thing. But things got worse. I sickened myself when I realized I had my camera. In my bag, at my feet. And as the car stopped moving, it was in my hand.

A familiar sense of detachment flooded me. I got out of the car, and snapped a few shots, telling myself that if I were a photographer and this were my daily job, I wouldn’t have two seconds of hesitation about taking pictures. I’m simply documenting at this point, a purely dispassionate observer. I am not rooting for this man to jump. I am not glorying in his pain. I am not wondering what it would look like if he actually lets go of the railing he seems to be clinging to as if he really doesn’t want to be doing this. My mind can make all of those images and words for me. I am absorbing.

I am being a vampire.

I’ve seen some pretty nasty things. My research has taken me into darkness. I’ve been at a stabbing scene, seen the results of teenage head versus .44 magnum in a suicide, viewed autopsy photos and crime scene photos. But nothing could have ever prepared me for a group of people, gathered at the base of a very big bridge, all yelling one collective word. “JUMP!”

That’s right. While I’m mantra muttering Don’t Do It under my breath, the redneck assholes who were partaking in an afternoon of someone else’s misfortunes are wrapped in their superiority cloaks, screaming at this poor soul to kill himself.

But what did I look like to them? I’m the one with my camera in the air.

I felt a bit like a naturalist. On the Discovery Channel, you wonder how the videographers and photographers and announcers do it. There’s always the story of the lion pride, and the cub that’s gotten lost. We usually see the happy ending, the cub is reunited with his pride. But the tension I feel leading up to that moment is overwhelming. How many times did the cub not make it? When does reality intrude on the entertainment value?

If the documentarians are true to their work, they know there’s nothing they can do to put the cub back on the road to safety. They can’t interfere; it’s nature’s way. But how do they watch, and record, and voice-over while the hyenas strike?

I always tell myself, as I turn off the show before I find out what happens, that it’s happening right now, all over the world. The weak are being preyed upon by the strong. The naturalists know that if they weren’t there to document the process, it would happen regardless. That’s how I justified my actions at the bridge. If we hadn’t stopped for a soda and had been five minutes earlier, we would have driven by and never known the difference. But since we were there, I felt compelled to, at the very least, give the man’s story some credence. I told hubby if he did jump, at least I could find a way to mention it so he wasn’t lost in utter obscurity, didn’t become just another statistic.

He came down. He lived. I didn’t know that until the next day, when a brief mention in the newspaper handled the situation with surprising delicacy. I’m paraphrasing… Police closed the north Causeway for nearly an hour yesterday as they talked with a despondent man... Despondent. What a perfect word to describe the situation.

You may be surprised by that last bit. Yes, we left. I didn’t want to see what happened. I certainly didn’t want to see him go over. I was testing fate by even stopping and taking pictures. I was lucky that he didn’t let go while I was there.

This nameless, faceless stranger has been grafted into my next book; I’ve got a scene with a jumper. I intend to mine it for every detail I can, answer all the unanswered questions, glorify and inflate the situation to fictional proportions. And I have my memories and pictures to thank for guiding me. All’s well that ends well, right?

If I just weren’t thinking about what drove him to that bridge in the first place...

The Wrath of Grapes

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NAPA VALLEY - DAY THREE

Happy Birthday to me... We called this one the unbirthday.

We started with a drive up the 128 to Mumm Napa. What better way to start an unbirthday than with champagne? (And yes, I know this is really sparkling wine, real champagne only comes from the French champagne region.) We took a seat on the Oak Terrace, Mumm’s gorgeous new outdoor tasting deck, settling into the comfy red wicker, and were served our tasting flutes. Though since we were on the Oak Terrace, we were tasting from the Library Collection, and the flutes were full : )

We started with the 2001 Blanc De Blanc. It was a classic brut sparkling wine, crisp and jasminy, with a lemon finish. I moved on to the 2000 DVX Rosé, which was redolent of red apples, and Randy tried the 2005 Pinot Noir. In order to make rosé, you need red grapes as well as white, so the pinots add just the right amount of pink to the glass. But I never knew Mumm’s bottles a pinot out of each season’s growth. That was the second excellent pinot of the trip – smooth and clean with strawberry, peach and tobacco notes.

Me being a complete lightweight, I was a wee bit happy at this point, (nothing like catching a buzz before noon – sheesh) so we had a small plate of crudités that included a divine chocolate covered strawberry and fresh strawberries. Outstanding.

We headed off toward Cakebread then, but accidentally stumbled upon the Rubicon Estate. We’d been planning to hit Rubicon last, but since it appeared on our right, we decided to hit it first. Rubicon is the former Inglenook Estate and is owned by Francis Ford Coppola. You’ve seen me suggest the Coppola wines before, but this is the special place, the vineyard that houses the estate wines. Estate wines are generally older, more established vines that produce less fruit and subsequently, fewer bottles, which means they are more expensive.

This was by far the most expensive stop, $25 per person for the tasting. They give you a passport, with the history of the estate and fun facts about the vineyard, and plenty of space for tasting notes. And the tasting – oh, my, the tasting.

We started with the 2007 Captain’s Reserve Chardonnay. Though neither of us are big white wine fans, this was very good, tropical and fruity. Then we moved to the 2006 Captain’s Reserve Pinot Noir. That was not what I’d call a very challenging wine. It was good, smooth, actually almost too smooth, and perfectly balanced, and tasted of raspberries and rose petals. The next was the 2005 Captain’s Reserve Shiraz. Now this got our attention. It was deeply purple, with boysenberry, black licorice, blueberries and sandalwood. It had a lovely nose and had fun tidbits – the grapes are only hand-harvested in the early morning hours, then cold-soaked for 48 hours to ensure the rich, ripe color.

Next was the 2005 Cask Cabernet Sauvignon. This was a monumental vintage for the Cask, and the wine was rich with blueberries, cherries, plum, vanilla and cocoa, and was very bold and spicy. Really excellent wine (we bought some to take home!) We tried the 2005 Rubicon too, a heavy cabernet with loads of pepper, raspberry and smoky wood notes. Just fantastic.

The last wine at the Rubicon was an add-on from our server, who was a delight – knowledgeable, pleasant and willing to share some insider secrets. We talked of the Nardi estate in Italy (my family name is Nardi, remember) and that Mr. Coppola had visited their wine-making operation. She suggested we write Mr. Coppola a note, which we did. (The funny thing was, I’m writing a note to one of the greatest filmmakers of all time and all I’m thinking about is how to express my deep gratitude for his endeavors into wine making. Should’ve slipped a card in, but I really didn’t think of it until we left. Oh well.) The wine is a homage to his grandmother’s side of the family and is called Edizione Pennino. We tried the 2006. This is an organically farmed wine, a Zinfandel varietal, soft and full, with white pepper, smoke, blackberries, blueberries and raspberry notes. We took some of this home too, it was lovely. And it was nice to have the opportunity to taste such a special wine, a wine that’s dear to the winemaker’s heart. Made us feel right at home.

And then we went to Cakebread. I know the white fans are drooling right now, but the two whites we tasted, 2007 Sauvignon Blanc and the 2007 Chardonnay, while good, didn’t make a lasting impression. I just don’t have a white wine palate, though I was assured by our tasting tour partners that it was a good wine. The tour itself was a bit uninspired too, with this being more focused on just getting some wine in the glass and into your mouth than any real education. I think the group was a bit too big, and a little unsophisticated, so things were kept on the top layer, so to speak. The 2006 North Coast Rubáiyat was very good, a pinot heavy blend. The 2007 Rubáiyat will be a Merlot blend, which I found interesting. The 2005 Red Hills, Lake County Zinfandel was great, lots of dark chocolate and purple fruits, and the 2005 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon had all the elements of a great cab. It’s typical of the cooler parts of Napa, and was our favorite of the lot.

We had just enough time to hit one more, and let me tell you – choosing which vineyards to go to can be a bit daunting. There are hundreds to choose from. But the wonderful Preiser Key was a Godsend. It breaks the vineyards into appellations, so we could look for vineyards that did our kind of wine. We wanted to taste a California Sangiovesi (the grape that’s used in Chianti,) so we headed to Castello di Amorosa.

And boy, did we get a fun surprise! What no one mentioned was the name of this vineyard was quite literal – the estate is a castle. A 101,000 square foot medieval castle. Cue enchantment!

We scoured the castle, then went to the tasting. This was one of the estates with a wine club. We wanted to join a couple of clubs, but didn’t want anything that we could buy in stores. Castello di Amorosa is exclusive to their wine club members. Intrigued, we asked for a special tasting that would allow us to determine if this vineyard could be a contender. They didn’t disappoint. The 2005 Diamond Mountain Sangiovese was great – black fruits, supple oak, and vanilla notes. The 2005 Merlot was good too, but needed to breath to let out the spicy, peppery finish. We loved “Il Brigante”, a 2002 Cabernet Merlot blend, cherries, light oak, spices. It’s very dry, which we love. And the name means Little Thief – how can you not love it? The 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon was lovely – rich and fruity, then we moved off the regular tasting list and into the big dogs. “Il Barone”, a reserve cab, was excellent, but what sold us was the 2005 "La Castellana" Reserve. This is a beautiful Super Tuscan wine, absolutely outstanding. We signed up for the club and took bottles of Il Brigante and La Castanella home with us.

And now it was time for the dinner. We had reservations at a restaurant in Napa, so we hurried home, changed and set out for our fine meal. We were sorely disappointed: despite our 8:00 reservation, we weren’t seated until 8:30, and then it took another fifteen minutes for the waitress to take our drink order. It was noisy and crowded, not at all what we were looking for in an intimate birthday celebration. I won’t name the restaurant because I’m sure it’s normally great, they just looked incredibly understaffed, and that never speaks to a good experience.

So we walked. We knew UVA was right around the corner, and we headed there. It was a chilly walk, but well worth it. The meal we had goes down in my top five best meals I’ve ever eaten. It was simple, rustic Italian fare made from fresh, local ingrediants – meatballs smothered in tomato sauce and mozzarella as an appetizer (it was their special, and it was fabulous,) chicken and mushroom carbonara, and a phenomenal tiramisu, accompanied by a bottle of L'Uvvagio Barbera, 2005 and homemade limoncello. They even threw in a candle and wrote Happy Birthday on the plate, and comped the desserts. Classy, and guaranteed that we will recommend them highly. Top it all off with another fire and one of my all time favorite movies, FRENCH KISS, and I call that a successful day.

DAY FOUR

We were at a bit of a loss in the morning. Truth be told, we didn't want to leave. We needed to head to San Francisco later in the day, the forecast called for rain, and we hadn’t gotten ourselves into the heart of the Sonoma Valley yet. So we decided to Trust in Tara – our theme of the week – and put in an address we knew was on the north end of the Sonoma Valley. That way, we could drive, and anything we stumbled upon was fair game.

The drive was beautiful, though we got caught in the downtown district of Sonoma, which I thought was much more “city” than Napa. But when we cleared out of that, we were able to drive for about thirty minutes, gazing at the vineyards, feeling the slow seep of time. We spied a huge mansion in the distance, and the closer we got, the more interesting it looked. They had a sign that said Sangiovese in the front, so we stopped. (We really need a bumper sticker that says "I Brake for Sangiovese".)

The estate was called Ledson. We’d never heard of it, and soon discovered that this was another wine club-only vineyard. Intrigued, we started the tasting. It was so nice to be inside looking out on the rainy day, to see the mist rolling through the valley, to be warm and dry on such a dreary day. We were in the capable hands of Austin Smith, wine consultant extraordinaire, who entertain as well as educated.

We chose an array of reds for our tasting, and got to work. I say work because it is, in a sense. Anyone can go into a tasting and drink wine. It takes some practice to be able to tell one wine from another, to ferret out your individual tastebuds, to be able to tell French oak from American. And trust me, with a little bit of training, anyone can do this. And to the folks in these vineyards, when they get a true oenophile at the bar, it’s like a light goes on inside them. They want to educate. They’ve got the finer details down, and are willing to share. I have to tell you, the most fun of the whole trip was being surrounded by fellow wine junkies.

We started with the 2005 Diamond Ridge Cabernet Sauvignon – lots of rose petals, blackberry and cherry, vanilla, with cranberries, cloves and toasted oak. YUM! Then were tried the 2005 Knights Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. Another excellent wine, with lots of leather, anise and lilac which tasted of chocolate and black berries. The 2005 Mes Trois Amour is the California version of an Australian GSM – that’s a blend of Grenache, Shiraz and Mourvedre grapes – with cocoa and smoke, rich cherry and smoked molasses. The 2007 Russian River Pinot Noir had the characteristic rose petal, strawberries and cherry nose that we’d come to expect from the pinots, but with a surprising caramel and pepper finish.

The 2006 Knights Valley Sangiovese was dry and spicy, and the 2005 Lodi Old Vine Zinfandel was incredibly jammy, with white pepper and plum and a touch of cinnamon. We had some of the 2005 Kinghts Valley Bellisimo, the gold medal winner in the World Wine Championships, that is a 57% Merlot 43% cab blend – luscious, fruity and spicy, and the 2005 Sonoma County Cèpage, which was smoky, leathery, with toasted oak and plums. Truly an excellent wine. The last one we tried was the 2006 California La Montagne, a 75% cabernet 25% sangiovese with raspberry, pepper, rose and lilac notes. It’s a Super Tuscan wine, and absolutely divine. We were sold. We joined the wine club, and Austin comped our tasting, a very nice touch.

And then we ate. Thankfully, there was the great little Café Citti right down the street, and we munched a pizza and cleansed our palates with salad and lots of water.

Declaring our trip a success, we headed into rainy San Francisco. It was too cool to drive the Golden Gate Bridge into town, but the shock of being in a city was a sharp contrast to the lazy, indolent days we’d spent in the country. We decided on the spot that we are definitely country mice, with the exception of New York.

We drove around San Fran and dined in the rain at Capurro’s on the wharf. I had clam chowder and crab cakes, and a lovely glass of 2005 Clos la Chance Zinfandel. Randy was dabbling in the pesto gnocchi again – I just can’t keep that man away from the gnocchi.

We did a minimum amount of strolling, got lost (Tara wasn’t happy with the heavy fog and kept sending us to the wrong street) so we accidentally ended up on Lombard Street. It was dark, but you can still see the crookedness. We did a run through the red light district (when I visited San Fran last, when I was 8, my dad got lost and ended up on that street. Twice. My mom was having kittens.)

Back at the Grand Hyatt, we had a cappuccino and birra in the lounge, then went back to our room. Looking down into Union Square, we saw a group of people, all dressed in black, looking like they were doing a protest. We found out a few minutes later that we were watching anarchists who’d just cracked windows all over the shopping district, causing thousands of dollars in damage. Um, yeah. Way to make a statement, guys – cracking a window at Neiman Marcus while wearing a ski mask is sure to change the world.

DAY FIVE

We had very special plans today. At noon, we were meeting our dear friend Louise and her sweet hubby Bruce for lunch at the Washington Square Bar and Grill. After we packed and managed to get the multiple bottles of wine we bought along the way shipped home, we headed to Washington Square.

Our dear Louise looked lovely, and kindly gifted me with a San Francisco compass, which I desperately needed. We had a brilliant meal (try the fish and chips, they are croquettes and really yummy) and a plain old fashioned cellar merlot. I was actually a bit wined out, if you can believe it.

After a couple of scintillating hours in our dear friends' company, it was time to go home. We drove across the Bay Bridge into Oakland, and the fairy tale ended. Alas. But out luck held – even though we were an hour late turning the car in, they didn’t charge us an extra day. Southwest was on time, as always, and we got home safe and sound to a very, very happy kitty.

Bottles of wine have been rolling in, with almost daily visits from UPS. Our cellar restocked, now we're planning our next outing. Italy? Oregon? Wherever we go, we're sure to find good food, good wine, and make new friends.

More pics of the trip can be found here and here. Thanks for taking the journey with us. A new decade has begun, and I hope it brings great joy and success to us all.