2.  How long does it take you to write a book?
 
That depends on what you mean by "how long..." The first draft of one of one of our mystery novels takes about nine months from the first byte. Then the revision takes another month or two. After that, we start sending out queries to prospective publishers. Between then and the time a book gets accepted, numerous other revisions and adjustments will be made. Sometimes the revisions are minor ones, word usage, etc.  Other times major; e.g., we'll discover some major fact that we issued that may create a challenge to the authenticity of the story; e.g. change in police procedure discovered when we interview a new member of law enforcement. The computer has made the whole process faster as compared to the old days of the typewriter and correction tape. HIRAM BOG took about three-and-a-half years from first-byte to bookshelf.

3.  What made you start writing and when did you start?

We began writing together in the mid-nineteen-eighties. Carolyn had written a novel in the early Sixties when her now deceased husband was Chief of Police at Cape Canaveral, Fla. (father of Carolyn's two daughters). It dealt with the early days of manned space travel and was a bit of an expose. Carolyn and Ross revised it years later when we lived in Black Creek, NC. It wasn't ready for prime time.  

4.  Are Frank and Sandy Zucchetti really Ross Erwin and Carolyn Page?

No, although we certainly do draw on our experiences of living in rural Maine when we write our characters. How could we not?

5. How do you get ideas for your characters?

Not to be flippant, but we remember the people we've met, plus we're notorious eavesdroppers. Maine folk are full of stories. We also fill out large yellow index cards, one for each character. By the time we're through we know what each had for breakfast, the car he or she drives, and the character's favorite color. Sometimes the progression of the story line will give birth to a new character. He or she will just appear. Then we have to deal with him/her.

6. You were published poets for many years. Do you both still write poetry? 

Yes. Carolyn has a chapbook of Waldo County poems coming out soon, to benefit the local Volunteer Fire Department. It began with her poems requested by the town for their sesquicentennial. They're history based, her favorite poetry genre.

7.  So who is Sparky?

Sparky is our imaginary dog, the next best thing to a real one. Actually, we love dogs and plan to have a real one when we're old. Right now, only on the cusp of seventy, we don't want the added responsibility of dog walking, scooping, etc., due to our travels and the difficulty of getting someone to dog-sit. But, back to Sparky, he's part Spitz and part Australian Blue, very intelligent. He's mainly white, with a thick coat. The tips of his tail and ears are black and gray, and he has one blue eye and one brown eye--very handsome--weighs about 20 pounds. He likes strangers and, although he's generally useless as a guard dog or an alarm system, we love him anyway. So, he's not perfect. Neither are we. Sparky has a red leather collar studded with rhinestones.

8. I read that you have chickens. What kind are they, and do you eat them?
We have a dozen Columbian Wyandotte chickens, also white and black to match Sparky. Their leader is a twelve-pound plus rooster name Sir Walter Rudy. They may soon be joined by several young pullets so that we can have a steady supply of fresh, organic eggs, which, other than shape, bear absolutely no resemblance to the store-bought eggs produced by depressed and deprived factory-chickens. We do not eat our chickens, since that would interfere with egg-production. Besides, they are our friends. You may think it odd to have chickens as friends, but, out in the country, one can't be too particular. 

9. Are the brutal Maine winters an advantage or disadvantage to you as writers?
Maine winters aren't so brutal as they once were. There are photographs of "the old days" in the early twentieth century, when Belfast Bay would freeze up so solid that teams of oxen could cross the ice hauling their loads. Now they'd have to walk on water. We still get up to a dozen snows per winter and have to shovel some now and then. The worst time of year to write is summer when we're either out in the garden or entertaining people from away. All things considered, we probably get more writing done in winter than in any other season. If you count mud season and black fly season as part of winter, that leaves only three months of potential distraction.