Nancy Drew - Memories, Fantasies and Libraries

by Janis Patterson

I’ll admit it – I loved Nancy Drew. Didn’t like Trixie Belden, couldn’t stand the other one whose name I can’t remember right now, was never allowed to read Cherry Ames (she was a nurse, and my mother hated that) but I simply loved Nancy Drew. Our own Kathleen Kaska recently blogged on Nancy Drew, which brought up a plethora of memories I thought amusing enough to share with you.

I learned to read early – around three, we think, but no one knows for sure – and by five was gleefully working my way through my parents’ library before they really knew what I was reading, not that in those antique days there was anything ‘risque’ in there. I had gotten about half-way through their small collection of Ellery Queens, which I pretty much understood, and some history books which I pretty much didn’t. I remember especially remember Boswell’s London Journal, mainly for how much it horrified my parents to find me reading it.

Anyway, in their search to find more age-appropriate reading matter for me, Mother took me to the local library where a kindly librarian took us to the children’s department. I was allowed to pick out six books, and I remember being very distressed at how thin they were. Mother was very distressed that I had them all read before we could drive home. After several equally unproductive visits, we went over to the grown-up section (‘adult’ has such an unfortunate connotation these days) and I found several books I would like to read. The kindly librarian suddenly turned into a martinet; children, she said in pointy tones, could not check out books from the adult section because they would only tear them up and they couldn’t really read them anyway. When I realized I was being insulted I reacted with a spirited rebuttal, which resulted in the librarian regarding me much as she would a talking dog or other freak of nature. I was summarily ejected from the library and banished for a week. Although I now do speaking engagements at libraries I have looked at them askance ever since.

Then salvation came in the unlikely form of Sears and Roebuck. In my youth that was our main shopping outlet. On Thursday nights, when they stayed open until the dizzying hour of 9 pm, we would go after supper just for the fun of riding the new escalators. Those were indeed simpler times. Anyway, one night we walked past a sale display of Nancy Drew books. They looked fascinating and while Mother’s and Daddy's attention was occupied elsewhere, I inspected them and lost my heart. At 99 cents each they were still a fair amount, for our family at least, but the memory of my humiliation in the library was still fresh, so somehow my parents scraped up the required amount and I was the proud possessor of my first Nancy Drew. I don’t remember which one it was, but I do know I still own it – I still have every one I ever owned. Whichever one it was, I must have read it fifteen or twenty times in the next week. After that, even though we were very far from well-to-do, once a month I got a new Nancy Drew, even after the price went back to the regular $1.99 – a goodly sum in those days.

I would have gone back to the library and even apologized to the librarian for being so abnormal as to be able to read adult books if I could have checked out Nancy Drews. Unfortunately in those days libraries did not find Nancy and her friends ‘worthwhile’ reading and refused to stock them. More fool them.

Anyway, I was ecstatically happy no matter where the books came from. A mystery I could actually understand! A girl sleuth I could identify with! Of course, to my young mind there was no difference between a fictional, perfect teenager and my own much younger and rather lumpy self, but that made no difference. When I was reading, I was Nancy. Nancy drove a car (though I had to look up what a roadster was), she had seemingly unlimited funds, she was allowed to go where and when she wanted, all the while delicious mysteries seemed to leap into her path.

Now from the vantage point of my unfortunately advanced years, I realize no one could possibly be as perfect in mind, body, family, and life in general as Nancy Drew. Also that Carson Drew was the most lax of parents, perhaps even to the criminal point, but to my young self, as the product of two ridiculously overprotective parents, that was a situation to be envied.

As I grew a little older (though still in lower elementary school) I entered a very analytical phase and decided that just with a little application I could be just the same as Nancy. Of course, I had no money, no car, and two very hover-prone parents, but if I could just find a mystery to solve I was certain I could overcome those hurdles. I thought if I re-read every Nancy Drew I had and made a chart of how she got involved with each mystery, I could do the same thing and have a mystery of my own – only thing was, I found the mysteries all seemed to come to Nancy with no effort on her part. Drat!

The years have passed and my tastes have (hopefully!) become much more sophisticated. It’s been a couple of decades since I read a Nancy Drew, and perhaps that’s good. The province of our memory is often kinder than present perception, and I treasure my memories of Nancy Drew too much to put them at risk.

  

Why We Write Mysteries

Many authors write about their reasons for writing mysteries--and I've written mine more than once. My usual answer is that when I'm writing a mystery I can make it end the way it should--which isn't the way it always happens in the real world. Too many murderers manage to get away with their dastardly deeds. In my worlds, the bad guy always gets it in the end.

Authors often state that their first interest in writing mysteries came about because of reading the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew mysteries when they were kids. Though I gobbled up every Nancy Drew mystery that I came across, I also read any other mystery I could get my hands on, including those intended for adults.

Perhaps, though, what had a greater influence on me was the mystery radio shows that I listened to as a kid, The Shadow Knows, Inner Sanctum, Mr. and Mrs. North and many, many others.

But, probably the greatest influence was the daily newspapers. We lived in Los Angeles and at the time my parents subscribed to three: The Herald Express, The Los Angeles Times and another that I don't remember the name of, but was like the tabloids of today. Los Angeles had plenty of intriguing and sometimes gruesome murders to fill the front pages of the newspapers--often with movie stars somehow involved.

The most famous one, The Black Dahlia, I heard about first on my little Philco radio. For some unknown reason, that radio picked up police calls. My mother had forbidden my sister and I to listen to them--but we did almost every night after we went to bed.

I heard the police radioing each other when the found the pieces of the Black Dahlia in that vacant lot. They spoke quite explicitly about what they had found.

Sometime in the night, I felt something on the bed. I reached down and touched a leg. I was afraid to touch anymore for fear I'd feel a bloody stump! I screamed.
Mom came running into the room. "What's the matter?"

I kept my eyes closed tight. "There's a leg on my bed."

Mom quite calmly said, "Yes, and it's attached to your sister."

Of course she knew we'd been listening to the police calls again. And when the morning paper arrived she knew what we'd heard.

That's something I've never forgotten. And that's one case where despite all the theories, no one really knows who killed the young woman called the Black Dahlia.

That will never happen in one of my books, in the end, the reader will always know who the bad guy is.

Marilyn
a.k.a. F. M. Meredith

How Could I Forget?

I was racking my brains (stretched it out at LEAST twice its size) trying to think of a topic for my first Make Mine Mystery post when the lovely Vivian Zabel sent an email announcing her new mystery blog, Vivian's Mysteries. I went over for a peek and, after being the FIRST person to officially follow Vivian's blog (I have no idea why this pleases me so much or why my reaction, after hitting the 'be the first person to follow this blog' button, was a general "in your face!" towards...well, I honestly don't know towards who. This reaction simply illustrates a certain rich vein of immaturity running through my blood.

Heh.

So after becoming Vivian's follower (I'm hoping she issues cool Monk-like robes or something), I read her post, which mentioned her love of Nancy Drew. This reminded me that the first mystery I read was actually The Secret of the Old Clock, #1 in Carolyn Keene's (pen name!) Nancy Drew, Girl Detective series.

I received Old Clock, The Hidden Staircase and The Bungalow Mystery for Christmas when I was 6 or 7 (the same year, I also scored the Dark Shadows board game). At first I was disappointed (with the books, not the board game); I hadn't gotten to the stage where I actually asked for books as gifts. But after I read the first book, I was hooked. Mom gave me a bunch of her old Nancy Drew books (the blue bound editions). I plowed my way through those and by the time I was in my early teens, I'd amassed most of the books in the series.

When I hit my '20s, I'd fallen out of love with Ms. Drew and her irritating habit of doing everything perfectly. I still understand why the books were and are so popular, although I admit to having problems when they were updated to meet the current times' politically correct standards. The formerly swarthy villains (ALL bad guys were described as 'swarthy') joined the Rainbow Coalition, Nancy's already feminist leanings became more prominent, and the adventure were modernized to appeal to a more sophisticated readership. These are all good things, I realize that. But my childhood memories felt betrayed and I was quite happy when they reissued the original versions of some of the books for those of us who enjoy things for what they were and as a sign of the times they were originally written or filmed.

On a sad note, my entire collection of Nancy Drews died a stinky death when one of our cats peed on and in the box I'd stored them in, in my parents' garage. There is no bringing back a book from a dousing in cat urine.

A few mystery writing tips by Vivian Zabel

As a lover of mysteries since I was a child, I started on Nancy Drew books and kept on reading. Now my favorite mystery authors are Tony Hillerman, Anne Perry, William Bernhardt, Stuart Woods, J. A. Jance, and Carolyn Hart.


As I've read mysteries over the years, I studied them because I wanted to be able to write them. Finally, I succeeded after many tries and much study.

A few tips I've learned include the following:

Between a good beginning and a powerful end, a well-written mystery has to keep the reader's attention through the use of foreshadowing, tension, drama, and action. The reader has to want to turn the page or go to the next chapter to find out what happens next. Only the writer can accomplish that with good writing, dialogue, believable characters and action.

Write a good story: Huh? What does that mean? That means that no matter what tips or tricks or whatevers may be in a mystery, if the story isn't well-written, with correct grammar, spelling, sentence structure, the story won't fly. Kathy Pohl (The Writer June 2007) states it's important to learn the craft, the basics, of writing. Without knowing the basics of writing, one can't write a good story.

All the wonderful ideas found in the mind can't become written stories if the creator can't write the words so that they can be enjoyed and understood by others.

Create strong, believable characters: In a mystery, the writer knows one thing about one character before writing: The killer, if there is a murder, will kill someone. Other than that one fact about the antagonist, nothing else is know about any of the characters. The writer must develop each one thoroughly so that he or she is real, rounded, and believable to the reader.

Flat, one dimensional characters cause stero-types and boring reading. Multi-dimensional characters cause readers to care about them. Even an evil killer can have traits or background that will allow the reader to see him as a person.

Don't rely on a technique: Using a technique such as outlining or storyboarding should be an aid, not a master. Outlining never worked for me, because I work out the story/plot so thoroughly in my head, that it's real before I start writing. Bestselling crime author Tony Hillerman says that outlining doesn't work for him. He tried with the first three novels he wrote and failed and felt guilt-ridden and inadequate. When he decided not to try to outline, he found success.

If outlining works for you, great, but don't become a slave to a technique.

Have a strong plot: Any story must have a plot, a storyline. A conflict is necessary, a climax, a resolution, an ending. In a mystery, there must be a crime or some other type of mystery to be solved. A good book has a major plot and at least two or three sub-plots. For example, a couple who meet as a result of the mystery and who are attracted to each other
create a sub-plot inside the main plot of solving the mystery.

So far I've written three mysteries: The Base Stealers Club, Case of the Missing Coach, and Midnight Hours. The first two are young adult and the last a mystery/suspense novel.

Want to know more?

My blogs: Brain Cells & Bubble Wrap Vivian's Mysteries
website: Vivian Gilbert Zabel