That is the title to Barbara Seranella’s eighth book, and what Barbara Seranella’s departure is, but what choice do we have? The best thing we can do is celebrate her life before mourning her passing.
I never met Barbara, but I’ve read enough of her work to know she wrote with passion and power about a lifestyle that she not only imagined but had seen eye-to-eye. As she grew into her art, Barbara matured both in her writing and in how she handled life—going from being a tough, ex-hippie biker chick to being a respected, well-mannered crime and mystery author.
Besides escaping from a past that could easily have killed her, her accumulated honors include:
The Lifetime Achievement Award for Best Female Sleuth, given by Romantic Times
Her novels Unwilling Accomplice and An Unacceptable Death hitting the L.A. Times bestseller list
Her short story, Misdirection, being nominated for an Edgar
That same short story later winning an Anthony award
An Unacceptable Death being nominated for SCBA’s Best Mystery Novel
Being the first recipient of the Dennis Lynds Award for Social Consciousness in Crime Fiction, by Mystery Writers of America
As crime writers and/or crime fiction readers, we often think of heroism in terms of outwitting the bad guy, shooting it out, rescuing the victim or solving the mystery. But Barbara was no less a hero, though of a different sort. She went on from day to day, fighting her own battles in a quieter way and with no bullets or fists. In the end, she lost the battle with the liver disease which claimed her life, and passed away on January 21, 2007.
But she was a winner. She used the time she had to write and live life, even when she knew each day was an uncertain gift. Here is an extract from her column in the LA Times, published on December 31, 2006:
These
days I exist in a state of grace. I don't get angry; there is no one I argue
with. Nothing is a big deal. I'm not worried about my career or signs of aging.
I feed the birds and watch them eat. In my lack of hustle, mysteries have been
solved. I've figured out how to use the fabric softener and bleach dispenser on
my washing machine. There are these written pieces called
"directions." What a wonder they've turned out to be.
I can go to the store, shop, drive home and put away the stuff. After weeks of
walking in the pool and swishing my arms, I can swim again. I'm writing.
I have gone through my house many times, each time finding more stuff to give
and throw away. In all my organizing, I've rediscovered what I like to do, what
makes me happy. I love tools and fixing things. I have so many projects lined up
that it is a bother to stop and eat.
My friends and extended family call and e-mail me. I still get cards. I have a
handicapped placard, so I always get good parking spaces. People visit. I am
blessed with good friends and family. I also see a side of strangers most people
don't, acts of incredible kindness and compassion.
Barbara, we’ll miss you. And even though we’ll miss your new works, thanks for leaving the ones you’ve written for us to read, shake our heads and say, “Damn… I wish I’d written that!”
Tony Burton
Chief Editor,
Crime and Suspense
