This month, Fabulous Florida Writers is pleased to welcome guest blogger Lesley Diehl. She is the author of several cozy mystery novels and several short stories. Her latest novel, Nearly Departed, is part of her Eve Appel Mystery series.
I’ve often said that
Florida is a wonderful place for a mystery writer to hide a body given the work
of our huge sanitation engineers (think alligators) as well as terrain in which
criminals can obscure their handiwork. Some folks, even state residents, find
my statement puzzling because their understanding of Florida is shaped only by
the coasts, the Keys and the land of the mouse. For those of us who reside
inland, in south central Florida, we know another state, one populated with
cowboys, cattle, horses, and lots and lots of alligators. Coastal residents
would get lost in the maze of canals, swampland, pine, palm and live oak
forests, and wonder why anyone would travel to the interior. But like I say,
what a place to commit and cover up a crime. Yet it is more than that.
For those of us who do
live here, we find a raw beauty in this landscape, and we worry that
out-of-control development will destroy it. Florida’s problem has always been
water, too much in places, too little in others. The construction of roads and
bridges, golf courses, condo and home developments has made water issues of
primary importance to Florida’s future. It appears that development and climate
change are working together to destroy Florida as it once existed. It is
estimated that Florida loses 10 acres of open land every hour to development.
Loss of land impacts the distribution and flow of water. For example, water
used to flow out of Lake Okeechobee south toward both coasts, but with the
construction of east-west highways south of the lake, that flow is impeded. In
addition, controlling the outlet of water from the lake into the canals heading
toward the coast has resulted in algae growth on both coasts. Coastal dwellers
certainly took notice when the thick green algae with its accompanying stink
grew feet high in the summer of 2018. The solution to the water issues is
complex necessitating the collaboration of many agencies and people—farmers,
ranchers, developers, water management agencies, sugar concerns, government and
private citizens—those who sometimes have had difficulty in working together in
the past. Let’s hope the passage of the recent water bill will help.
And so, what does all of
this have to do with writing murder mysteries? Those Florida writers who set
their mysteries on the coast appeal to readers who love the Florida scene—as
they know it. Some readers have recently come to enjoy mysteries located in
Florida’s heartland, the land of alligators and cowboys. As one who loves using
this setting for my work, I worry that the impact of development on my area
will remove what is best about rural Florida, its contrast with the rest of the
state. Until recently it has been easy for us rural folks to ignore all those
high-rise condos being built on the coast. We only encounter them when we
travel out of our area. But, as the protagonist of the Eve Appel mysteries, has
noted, the coastal development is infringing on our way of life. Mud Bog (see Mud
Bog Murder) contests with big trucks churning up mud, water, plants
and wild life bring the promise of entertainment and temporary jobs to our
area, but they also leave a destroyed habitat long after the event is past,
making breeding and nesting difficult for the species who lived there.
As Eve drives the route
from her home in Sabal Bay (think Lake Okeechobee area) to West Palm and then
down to the Keys to visit friends and her grandmother, she notes how widening the
road has removed the expanses of water, making it necessary for water fowl to
feed and breed elsewhere. The vegetation at the sides of the road has changed
also. Instead of the sabal palms which grow everywhere in Florida’s heartland,
now the roadside has become more manicured, planted with sod and what are
deemed more beautiful, plants carefully landscaped. Is it more pleasing to look
at? Perhaps, but it also represents loss of a wildness that makes many of us
yearn for the past.
I don’t want to suggest
that I mourn for the loss of the old Florida for a selfish reason. I don’t just
want the tangled mazes of swamp and vegetation as a place to get rid of a body.
That’s silly. But my writing like those of others who use rural Florida as a
setting would lose its tone and atmosphere because they form the backdrop of a
special place and one that can be lost forever if we proceed with homogenizing
the Florida experience. Those of us writing in this wild place want to convey
the sense that there is something forever about this side of Florida. Visitors
who don’t expect the polished nature of the coast but anticipate another world,
one that is filled with a primitive beauty will understand the allure of the
land between the coasts and want to protect it. Yes, it’s wonderful driving to more
populated areas to dine in a fancy restaurant and gaze at boats bobbing in
ocean blue waters (our waters here are tea-colored, their own kind of fascinating
hue), but when I sit on my back patio in the evening and watch flock of birds
flying overhead, the sun reflecting silver off their white wings, I am taken by
that beauty. Even the alligator gliding past on the canal has its place in this
world. How could I not want to set a mystery here, not for the dark atmosphere
swamps and reptiles bring, but also because there is the splendor of nature
here also. The diversity of this land is being lost minute by minute, and I
don’t want to see it go. Do you?
Buy link to the newest
book in the Eve Apple Mysteries, Nearly Departed: