Earlier today, I posted a review of Shadow of Murder. Now I’d like to present the author in her own words, outside of her novels. Presenting, Guest Post: Lauren Carr.
The Lasagna That Turned into a 900-lb Gorilla
by Lauren Carr, author of Shadow of Murder
I have learned that every author puts a little bit of themselves into their characters. No, I am not a murderer. Yes there is a killer in every one of my murder mysteries. After all, you can’t have a murder mystery without a killer in the cast of characters somewhere.
We’ll dive into that another time.
Today, I wanted to talk about Erica Hart, who I introduced in Shadow of Murder. Erica Hart is the Cold Case Diva, who works with Mac Faraday to solve a couple of murders in Deep Creek Lake.
One aspect of Erica Hart’s character is that she is a gourmet cook (like me!) and has a collection of family recipes going back multiple generations in a special cookbook that has been passed down throughout her family (also like me!).
Some of you may recall the famous saying, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” This is one of the many things that bring Erica and Dusty together as she charms him with her cooking talent. I confess, my husband swears it is my cooking that made him fall in love with me.
In one scene in Shadow of Murder, Erica passes on her secrets to a great lasagna to Dusty’s thirteen-year-old daughter. While writing that scene, I found myself recalling one of the multiple times that I wondered if being a great cook was blessing or a curse.
I think most of you are quite familiar with the tendency of adding just one more thing to your to-do-list —usually because you are a nice person. (You have my permission to reach around and pat yourself on the back for being a good person.) Or maybe because that little thing is something that you rather enjoy doing—like whipping up a delicious lasagna made from your own secret recipe.
The very thought of making a single lasagna seems quite minuscule while it is a thought inside your head. Then, it ceases being a thought and turns into a reality. Before you know it, that single lasagna grows until it is transformed into a 900-pound gorilla that has decided to sit down right smack in the middle of your kitchen.
One Sunday, my friend Gail requested food for a reception following a funeral. Instantly, my husband’s eyes lit up and he turned to me. “Lasagna,” he mouthed.
I thought, “Gee, I haven’t made a lasagna in quite a while. It only takes a couple of hours to prepare and assemble a lasagna.” So, I volunteered to make a lasagna for the funeral reception. At which point, Gail handed a huge pan—big enough for three lasagnas—to me.
Okay, my one lasagna is now three, plus one for my family.
Except, when I make a lasagna, I don’t just make a single lasagna. I make several lasagnas, cook one for dinner, and then pack up and freeze the rest. Then during the upcoming months, when I get busy and don’t feel like cooking, I’ll take one out of the freezer and pop it into the oven.
The day after I had volunteered to make the giant lasagna, my husband came home with six foil pans in anticipation of my culinary delight. In one day, my couple of lasagnas had multiplied up to ten. One enormous pasta dish for the church, six to be frozen, and one for dinner.
Just smile. It will only take a few hours, and everyone will be happy afterwards, I kept telling myself while trying to figure out where I was going to put all of these lasagna pans and hoping I had enough pots and pans to cook the noodles and sauces. I was seriously wondering if my kitchen was big enough to contain this giant gorilla (aka lasagnas).
As L-Day (Lasagna Day) approached, my husband kept requesting a grocery list of what he would need to purchase. Finally, on Saturday, I sat down to count up the lasagna pans and add up the amount of the ingredients. I came up with five boxes of noodles, five huge jars of sauce, a half a ton of Italian sausage, and a ton of various cheeses.
He came back from the store with five boxes of noodles, half a ton of Italian sausage, ground beef, and pork, a ton of various cheeses and one regular size jar of sauce.
“What happened to the sauce?” I asked.
“That’s plenty of sauce,” replied the man who has yet to figure out how to turn on the toaster. “Let’s not go crazy.”
“Dear, the time to suggest that we not go crazy has passed,” I said. “I’ve volunteered to make enough lasagna to feed an army, plus enough lasagna to feed us until the end of the next Ice Age, and you bring me one jar of sauce!”
He handed me the car keys and said that if I needed more sauce, I could go back to the store to get it.
So, I did exactly that. Grumbling the whole way, I drove to the store and bought four huge jars of sauce and a giant cheesecake.
You see, over the years, I’ve learned something about 900-pound gorillas. Best not to fight it. Embrace it, feed it plenty of cheesecake, and the two of you will get along just fine.
When and where does it take a village to solve a murder? In 
I’ve just discovered Lauren Carr, a