We lost Ann Rule this past week. \u00a0Our paths crossed occasionally over the years, but we were not pals. \u00a0By the time my first book was published in 1985, Ann’s blockbuster, The Stranger Beside Me, had been out for five years. She was a big fish in the small pool of local Seattle writers, yet she was always gracious and kind\u2014to everyone, not just to me.<\/p>\n
Early on, we were both invited to a \u201cgroup-grope\u201d signing at a Fred Meyer store in Portland. \u00a0A group-grope is where a retailer invites a number of writers to come, sit side-by-side at folding tables, and sign books. \u00a0I was seated next to Ann. \u00a0There were people in her line\u2014lots of them. \u00a0There were no people in my line, and in the long run, that turned out to be a good thing. \u00a0Sitting next to Ann for that long hour and a half gave me an opportunity to see a pro at work and to learn how to do book signings.<\/p>\n
When a fan came to the head of her line and stood waiting to have a book signed, Ann Rule gave that person her undivided attention. \u00a0As far as she was concerned, that fan was the only person in her universe at that point. The person walked away feeling a very real connection to her. \u00a0That valuable lesson has stayed with me ever since. \u00a0When I do signings, I try to emulate her. \u00a0I don\u2019t phone it in. \u00a0I give my fans my complete attention.<\/p>\n
The two of us did other joint appearances over the years. One was at a library in White Center. \u00a0At the time, Ann was working on the Diane Downs case. \u00a0She had the librarians move our signing table so she could be seated with her back to the wall while still being able to watch the front door. \u00a0She needed to know who was coming in and going out.<\/p>\n
Together or apart, we were always out there, laboring in the vineyards and meeting the people. \u00a0She told me once, \u201cThe two of us are the queens of Bartell Drugs grand openings.\u201d \u00a0But we also did grand openings for various Safeway stores and QFCs and for one chain of drugstores that no longer exists.<\/p>\n
Back in the eighties, when authors were still routinely invited to Seattle\u2019s end-of-summer extravaganza, Bumbershoot, she and I were booked to do an event together. \u00a0I went on stage first and spoke about my not being admitted into a creative writing program at the University of Arizona in 1964 on the grounds that I was a \u201cgirl.\u201d \u00a0When it came time for Ann to speak, she said that, between the two of us, she didn\u2019t know who was luckier. \u00a0She had been admitted into the creative writing program at Oregon State, but half way through the semester the professor took her aside, told her she had no talent, and that she needed to consider some other line of work.<\/p>\n
By my count, that makes the score two to nothing with \u201cgirls\u201d winning hands down. \u00a0Creative writing professors? \u00a0Not so much.<\/p>\n
Ann Rule wrote \u201ctrue crime.\u201d \u00a0I write \u201cmysteries.” \u00a0Both are \u201cgenre fiction,\u201d forms of writing those very professors would regard with sneering contempt. \u00a0When I write my fictional mysteries, I try to stay away from real cases because real cases affect real people. \u00a0Families and loved ones of homicide victims number their days by how their lives were before <\/em>the homicide happened and how they are after <\/em>it.<\/p>\n Ann did the opposite. \u00a0She worked for a time for the Seattle Police Department long enough ago that female police officers were required to wear pants and high heels but they were not allowed to carry guns. \u00a0Her writing strategy was to tell the stories of real crimes in a way that gave victims and loved ones of victims a chance to tell their versions of the crimes that devastated their lives. \u00a0In a world of plea bargains and innocence via legal loophole, grieving loved ones have precious little opportunity to speak their minds. \u00a0Ann Rule\u2019s books gave them that opportunity.<\/p>\n In the mid-seventies, Washington State was transfixed by a serial killer who traveled the highways and by-ways in a VW, kidnapping young women with long straight hair, murdering them, and dumping them. \u00a0I was living in Pe Ell at the time, and when I drove by myself, I was wary. \u00a0One day, driving home from Chehalis, I remember seeing a VW parked along the side of the road. \u00a0Was that Ted Bundy? \u00a0Maybe; maybe not. \u00a0I had long blond hair at the time, but I also had two small children in the car with me which meant I didn\u2019t quite meet his victim profile.<\/p>\n At the time, Ann was working the Suicide Crisis Hotline, and she was wary, too. \u00a0One night, after her late night shift, she asked her hotline partner to walk her out to the parking lot. \u00a0The partner, being a perfect gentleman, immediately complied. \u00a0As for the name of Ann Rule\u2019s late night escort? \u00a0None other than Ted Bundy himself. \u00a0And, as they say, thereby hangs the tale that would become Ann\u2019s first book, her blockbuster\u2014The Stranger Beside Me.<\/p>\n Ann knew about real cases. \u00a0She followed them avidly and had connections inside police departments all over the country. \u00a0At the writers conference last week, one of my fellow panelists told about doing a signing with Ann a few years back. \u00a0It was deja vu all over again with plenty of people in Ann\u2019s line and not many people in the others. \u00a0One of Ann\u2019s fans, the last person in line, was just creepy. \u00a0The woman seated next to Ann thought she was having a weird reaction to the guy, but when he walked away, Ann turned to her and said, \u201cDo you know who that is? \u00a0That\u2019s Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer.” \u00a0And that was long before Gary Ridgway was taken into custody and arrested.<\/p>\n Recently, Ann\u2019s name was in the news when cops were called in because her two sons were accused of bilking her out of her funds at a time when she was frail and vulnerable. \u00a0One of them allegedly stole money from her checking account while the other contented himself with merely bullying her into handing over the cash. \u00a0I firmly believe there\u2019s a special place in hell for greedy relatives who want they what regard as \u201ctheir\u201d money, and they want it NOW. \u00a0I hope so anyway, because that\u2019s the only place Ann Rule will find justice.<\/p>\n Writers write and then they\u2019re gone. \u00a0I was just sitting here thinking of some of the ones that are no more: \u00a0Tony Hillerman; Vince Flynn; Robert B. Parker; Elmore Leonard. \u00a0The list goes on and on. \u00a0At some point, I suppose someone will be writing a post like this about me. \u00a0I don\u2019t know if I\u2019ll be in the middle of writing my last book when that happens or if I will have delivered it to the publisher, but I do have an idea of what I\u2019d like it to say:<\/p>\n J.A. Jance was a good old broad. \u00a0She told a mean story. \u00a0She loved her family, her readers, and her dogs. \u00a0She walked 10,000 steps a day.<\/p>\n And last night, while I was walking the last 8,000 of those 10,000 steps, I was striding along and thinking about Ann Rule.<\/p>\n Vaya con Dios<\/em>, Ann. \u00a0In my book, you were a good old broad.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We lost Ann Rule this past week. \u00a0Our paths crossed occasionally over the years, but we were not pals. \u00a0By the time my first book was published in 1985, Ann’s blockbuster, The Stranger Beside Me, had been out for five years. She was a big fish in the small pool of local Seattle writers, yet […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[7],"tags":[140],"class_list":["post-997","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writing","tag-ann-rule"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3nsBA-g5","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=997"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":998,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997\/revisions\/998"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=997"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=997"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jajance.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=997"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}