Today we’re honored to have Lesley Diehl, author and professor. This is one interesting lady. Let’s get right to it and start with Dumpster Dying. There’s a provocative title if I ever heard one. Tell us a little about it. Where did you come up with that?

Lesley: When your protagonist finds the body of the county’s richest rancher in the dumpster at the country club where she tends bar, then what other title can a writer choose for the book? I love the title although one editor found it gross.

 JRC: Your protagonist in Dumpster Dying, Emily Rhodes, summers in New York and winters in Florida, and prefers the “old Florida.” Seems a bit like you. How much of you is in Emily?

Lesley: Emily is younger than I am, shorter than I am, prettier than I am, and, by the end of the novel, she’s also spunkier than I am. But she finds she likes a lean, mean cowboy even if he is a police detective. And, of course, I’m partial to boot-wearing guys too.

JRC: Do you write in both New York and Florida?

Lesley: Yes, I write in both places. In fact, this year I spent the entire winter writing and editing. But then, I had my down time earlier in New York , when floods forced me to abandon my writing and pump out my basement several times.

JRC: Do you see any differences in what you write in NY and what you write in Florida? I imagine the writing atmosphere and maybe the writing habits – not just the seasons – are different. How does that affect your writing or your approach to writing?

Lesley: Florida inspires funny in me. My stories set in Florida are always humorous. The ones set in upstate New York are more serious. The series in the Butternut Valley, New York (where I live) features a microbrewer who seems to find herself solving murders. Where she finds the time, I can’t imagine because brewing beer is an all-consuming and serious business. I have written humorous books set in upstate New York. In fact, Untreedreads just released one entitled Angel Sleuth, the story of how having guardian angels as roomies does not help my protagonist’s writing block, but it might shed light on who killed the town’s advice columnist.

JRC: You had a great line describing “old Florida”– “spurs still jingle in the post office.” Tell us a little about “Old Florida.” I’m afraid most of us only know about the “new Florida.”

Lesley: Not many people know about “old Florida” because most of it has disappeared, plowed under by the developers, condo-occupied by all of us winter visitors. To keep the beaches on the east coast pristine, they haul in sand. They say it’s done to retard beach erosion, but let’s be honest, erosion naturally happens, but tourists don’t like it. Rural Florida, old Florida claims it was the final frontier before Star Trek made space final. There are more cattle in the county in which I live than there are people, and I kind of like it that way. Cows may have attitude, but it’s never purchased at a big box store or in a trendy coastal boutique. Watch out for the pies when you stroll the rural countryside! And, having met that challenge, don’t rile the alligators, especially during mating season.

Truth. One February, the gator in our small canal swam over to our side and began to do the gator mating shuffle, a kind of body movement that causes the water to ripple and vibrate as if one placed a fan in it. He did this when my husband and I appeared. I’ve never been courted by an alligator before. Oh, by the way, hubby won that contest. To envision rural Florida, think Texas, then insert lots of palm trees.

JRC:  This interview with Lesley is so interesting, and I don’t want to cut it short.  So, I’m going to stop here and continue it next Tuesday, May 22.  You won’t want to miss it, as Lesley tells us about her female master brewer – who happens to solve crimes.  Please come back for the second half. You won’t be sorry.