Author Archives: Rochelle Staab

Fair Share

“I’m so glad I saw you, Rochelle. I just finished your new novel,” an acquaintance recently said. She showed me the copy of BRUJA BROUHAHA in her designer carryall. “I loved the story.” I flashed back to nights of tearing my hair out over some damn scene to perfect the plot, and the full year I spent completing the novel—not even counting the subsequent efforts of my editor and publishing staff. The approval on the woman’s face and in her voice made the hard work Continue reading →

Fall in Love with a Stranger

In my pre-eBook youth many years ago, I worked on 42nd Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan and walked home to my midtown apartment every night. One of my routes took me past a huge bookstore chain and, because I can’t resist a bookstore like I can’t resist a well-done order of fries, I always strolled inside to browse. Others may head straight to the bestseller wall, perhaps the biography, romance, sci-fi, or history sections. I made a beeline for mystery or non-fiction, depending on Continue reading →

Hitting Up the Streets

I set my latest novel BRUJA BROUHAHA in current day Westlake near MacArthur Park, a neighborhood dubbed the “Champs-Élysées” of Los Angeles in the early 20th century, and then romanticized by Jimmy Webb in his classic 1985 song. Today the multi-cultural area is a mixture of Hispanic and Asian culture with the park and the shops on Alvarado Street providing a weekend tourist attraction. During daylight, that is. You see, the area is also rife with gangs—a fact of life in contemporary L.A. and an Continue reading →

THE END—and Then?

“They sicken of the calm who knew the storm.” Dorothy Parker, “Fair Weather”, Sunset Gun 1928. I pulled up one of my favorite Dorothy Parker quotes to open my maiden post here because—like most of Parker’s brilliant observations—she exquisitely defines my current frame of mind: The calm is driving me insane. I recently completed writing my third novel, effectively quieting the tempest of rewriting, editing, tweaking, and brooding while buried in the world of my story. After I hit “Send” to my editor’s email address I Continue reading →