Elena Hartwell's Blog, page 40
March 30, 2023
Out of the Darkness: Nonfiction
Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression by Debra Holz
Spotlight + Book & Author Info
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Out of the Darkness
One woman’s courageous journey from the darkness of depression to the light of awakening, healing, joy, and peace. For 50 years, depression was an insidious tormentor that dictated what Debra Holz believed not only about herself but also the meaning and purpose of life, faith, love and death. Raised by a troubled mother and abusive father, she endured crippling emotional trauma that led her down a dark path of addiction and self-loathing.
Decades of talk therapy and psychotropic drugs did little to abate her symptoms. Determined to end her life, everything changed in 2013 when an internal voice whispered: What if there’s another way to heal depression beyond traditional medical and psychiatric treatments? What unfolded was a way forward that revolutionized her thoughts, reframed her childhood events, and transformed her life. Holz candidly shares the step-by-step approach that she discovered and developed to rewire her brain and, thereby, her neurochemistry-ultimately leading to a deep joy and peace she had never known.
Out of the Darkness is for anyone who suffers with debilitating depression and is open to exploring the cutting-edge science of neuroplasticity. With an estimated 10 percent of Americans struggling with this condition, the book sheds valuable light on why the merging of science and spirit is critically important in overcoming depression. Holz is living proof that it’s possible to triumph over it and emerge out of the darkness.
Praise for Out of the Darkness:
“Debra, you tell the truth and hold the darkness of shame up to the light, and that darkness just disappears. You are brave and courageous—not only for capturing your story but also for persevering and striving to be and do better and maybe to love and be loved. I am honored to know you and see a miracle right before my very eyes.” ~ Carolyn L, Licensed Therapist
“Debra has a gift for knowing what readers want to read with her compelling writing style.” ~ Roger Stuart, Editor
“While Debra’s book did tell a very sad story, in the end, there was healing and recovery. I enjoyed reading that it is possible to overcome trauma.” ~ C. Losey
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading Debra’s book on overcoming obstacles. She is a warrior! Debra mentions many resources she used to overcome her depression, and her autobiography is compelling.” ~ Tammy A.
“Debra Holz takes us through the often horrifying journey of depression. She lays out the challenges she faced over a 50-year window. This book is a must-read for everyone and their loved ones struggling with depression. Debra gives us all hope.” ~ Davis
Book Details:
Genre: Mental Health, Transformation, Neurolinguistics, Depression
Published by: Indie
Publication Date: December 2022
Number of Pages: 193
ISBN: 979-8351544625
To purchase Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression, click either of the following links: Amazon | Goodreads
Listen in as Debra shares some of her story:
Out of the Darkness Guest Post — The Magic and Beauty of Words Strung Together
by Debra Holz
When I was an elementary school girl growing up in southern California, exactly 1.2 miles from the Pacific Ocean, my favorite place to hang out beside the beach was the neighborhood public library. In those days, parents believed it was safe for children to play outside until the streetlights came on. But instead of playing kickball, dodgeball, and hide-and-seek with the kids on my block, I often wandered to the library after school, where I spent endless hours lost in a fantasy world of books. Most of the time, I’d rather be there than at home or with my peers.
My parents were preoccupied with their lives and problems. So, my brother and I were ignored or treated mostly like nuisances; the upside of their parenting, or lack thereof, was that I was mostly unsupervised.
In other words, I could do whatever I wanted. And I did.
From books, I learned about people, families, and worlds that I believed I would never be part of. But I could dream, and when I dreamed, for brief periods, I could forget about my troubled childhood.
Because I so admired the authors who wrote my favorite books and marveled that they could string words together so beautifully, evoking visual imaginings so perfectly that I thought the images in my head were real. I wrote about raggedy girls who became beautiful princesses and animals that could talk. I wrote about angels and a god who would one day save me. I wrote mystery stories about girls who solved crimes. The Nancy Drew series was my top favorite, followed closely by books like Charlotte’s Web, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Across Five Aprils, and later when I was older, I became fascinated with A Wrinkle in Time, which addressed my early obsession with good and evil.
Because of my love of books in elementary school, I knew I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.
As soon as I could write sentences, I began creating my own stories. I printed the words I magically gleaned from somewhere beyond my mind, not knowing what would appear until I saw them on paper. I trimmed lined school paper into the shape of my treasured library books, and three-whole punched the left side of the pages. I strung the pages together with colorful yarn swiped from my mother’s crochet basket.
After hand-printing a few copies of a story I had created (the first one was about talking dolphins), I went door to door “selling” them. It makes me chuckle to recall how the parents of the neighborhood kids would smile at me sweetly, bemused, I’m sure, and buy my books for the sale price of 5 cents! Thus, I became a published professional author at age nine.
I was so proud.
I continued to write and develop my craft throughout my childhood and teens. At age 19, I was published in the national magazine, Coronet (now defunct) with my byline. A dream come true. My first two nationally published articles were about Elvis and Cher. And I thought I had achieved immortality even if I never had another byline. And I was hooked.
By my teens, I knew that all I ever wanted to be was a writer, and though my father thought I should pursue a practical business major in college, I instead earned a bachelor of arts degree in English education in 1979. My father assured me that I would never make a living writing!
I reasoned that I would become a high school teacher so that my holidays and summers would allow me to write as I worked towards my dream of publishing a bestselling novel. In the emotional melodrama of those young years, I made a ridiculous deal with myself: if I didn’t do this by age 21, I would have to kill myself! Fortunately, 21 came and went without that novel, and I’m still alive and well.
After college, I never did become a high school teacher. I entered the advertising and marketing industry, working my way up from a display ad paste-up artist to a copywriter, then creative director until I owned my own marketing and advertising company. Concurrently, I began writing for major newspapers.
(And it turned out dad was very wrong. Since then, I’ve primarily made a living as a writer and have made quite a bit of money doing what I love!)
In 1983, I lamented to a mentor that my writing needed more depth and was disappointed with its quality. His wise words were that once I’d experienced life and more pain, my writing would gain the depth for which I yearned.
So, life happened over and over again, and I made horrendous mistakes, things that though I experienced an awakening eight years ago, I ruminated over with countless regrets. What could I do with the sorrows I felt?
I don’t remember the exact moment when I decided to write my book, but I was compelled to start putting my story to paper. As I wrote, it became clear that doing so might help my children understand why I behaved as I did during their childhood. To my surprise, as I wrote it, I began to understand myself as I peeled layer after layer back, saw new things, and gained a new, revised understanding of who I am.
The process was cathartic.
As most other authors have experienced, writing a book is an organic process; nothing about it is black and white. What you think you’ll write evolves with your fingers on the keyboard. Throughout, I often asked myself, “Why are you doing this? Nobody is going to read your book! You’re wasting your time!” I would stop and start and stop again, but the compulsion to finish gave me no choice. Once I began, something outside me took over, and I knew I had to finish it. But it was only at the end that I understood why.
Madeleine L’Engle, the author of award-winning A Wrinkle in Time, said:
“I cannot possibly tell you how I came to write it. It was simply a book I had to write. I had no choice. It was only after it was written that I realized what some of it meant.”
Yes, indeed.
And though I swore I would never write another book, it’s too late; the compulsion to continue writing has taken over, and I’m already onto my next book.
Read an excerpt:
INTRODUCTION
As my eyes slowly flutter open, the blinding glare from the light on the sterile white ceiling causes me to wince. An I.V. bag dangles at the end of a silver pole, its line connected to a needle in my arm. I feel numb yet overwhelmed with despair. My mind is too groggy to comprehend what’s going on.
“Debra, do you know where you are?” a woman asks authoritatively.
I don’t. Wherever I am, the last thing I want is to be there, or anywhere.
“You’re in the emergency room at Western Psychiatric Hospital,” she explains, a bit more gently. I can see through dim eyesight that she appears to be a nurse. “Do you know why you’re here?”
I’m too sleepy to be concerned with her question. She pinches my arm hard to awaken me. I can see through the window that it’s dark, so it must be nighttime. Gradually, the fog clears as the nurse waits for me to respond. Obviously, my plan to kill myself had failed.
The impulse to end my life had consumed me since age 17, and it nearly did win the night before. My plan was firm: Drink enough wine to douse my fear, grab one of the loaded guns that my criminal defense attorney husband, Harrison, kept in our house, and shoot a bullet through my temple. For a decade leading up to this evening, I was too afraid to directly commit suicide, not knowing the possible spiritual consequences (if there is such a thing) in the afterlife. So, I routinely played an alcohol-and-sleeping-pill bedtime roulette, hoping that with the right spin of the sedative wheel, I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.
That fateful night, my drinking binge led to a blackout, which preempted my attempt to finish what I’d started. After I came to in the early morning hours, I told Harrison about my death intention. With a shrug of disgust, he walked into the other room, turned on the television, and proceeded to watch some sporting event. About six hours later, he drove me to Western Psychiatric Institute and Clinic.
The nurse pinches my arm once more, and that’s when I come to my senses and realize that, somehow, I’m still alive. I am deeply and acutely disappointed by this awareness.
What preceded this incident was fifty years of depression, an illness that told me what to think not only about myself but also the meaning of life, death, and the elusive truth about personal value and purpose. It dictated who I was, what to believe and how to feel. A faithful tormentor, depression refused to leave me alone no matter how much I pleaded and sometimes prayed to a deity whose existence I doubted. A merciless opponent, this illness was determined to enslave me with its chronic emotional and mental floggings. All those years, it never ceased and had no regard for how weary I had become.
My brain began wiring itself for depression from the early years of my childhood. Being in its clutches dominated my life by regulating how my brain functioned and allowed despair to overtake my other emotions. Through my teen years and well into adulthood, depression didn’t care about my positive experiences, accomplishments, and other things that should have made me happy. It marred and even ruined what should have been joyous occurrences and events such as my advanced education, career success, dream house with my new husband, and my children’s births.
If you suffer from depression, which I assume you might since you’re reading this book, you may feel as I did that there’s no escape from the misery. But there is. In fact, healing is possible. After a lifetime of suffering, I finally healed my depression outside of traditional medical methods. I reveal on these pages how I step-by-step revolutionized my beliefs, rewired my brain—thereby changing my neurochemistry—and created methods and habits to secure the longevity of my newfound joy and peace. Since 2014, I haven’t had an episode of depression! Hard to believe, isn’t it? I no longer doubt that it’s true and doable.
Healing through depression was, for sure, a spiritual awakening. As I grew through my healing process, my perception of the God I was introduced to as a child changed and expanded my consciousness. For clarification, when I use the word “God” within these chapters, it isn’t quite an accurate noun for what I consider “source, divine awareness, the creator.” So, for the sake of simplicity and since for many it’s common usage, I will say “God” interchangeably with these other terms.
My healing journey was a deep dive into the realms of science, as well. I share how quantum physics is relevant to healing depression, as well as how the brain works and how to rewire it away from depression. I also share emotional, spiritual, and behavioral exercises that, little by little, you’ll be able to integrate into your own life. As you take tiny then small steps at first, you’ll discover an increase in your life force energy. Eventually, you will be able to work on bigger and bigger tasks towards full healing.
First, let’s review a definition of depression and its ramifications. The Mayo Clinic describes depression as “a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness … [that] affects how you feel, think, and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems.” According to the World Health Organization, depression is a leading cause of disability; worldwide, it’s estimated that 264 million people suffer from it. Interestingly, more women experience depression and suicidal ideations than men, but men have higher rates of successful suicides. And the United States ranks as one of five countries with the highest numbers of depression sufferers. Though there may be other causes of depression, it is typically attributed to factors such as the brain’s faulty neurological mood regulation, genetics, emotional and physical trauma, childhood neglect and abuse, and major life stressors, including serious medical issues. What’s more, the National Institutes of Health reports that depression is associated with a higher risk of early mortality, and approximately 7.9 fewer years of life expectancy.
Unfortunately, those who haven’t suffered from depression sometimes expect a depressed person to just “snap out of it . . . stop the self-pity . . . think positive.” But when a person is clinically depressed, it’s typically impossible to “snap out of it” or simply solve the issue by thinking positively. While it may appear that a depressed person is self-pitying, they are usually filled with self-contempt and shame about their condition, as I was. And “recovering” without guidance and other forms of help is unlikely.
When I attempted to feel better, a haunting sadness assured me that I couldn’t escape the darkness and pain. As the years passed with no relief, the belief that something was intrinsically wrong with me and that I would never get better gained momentum. At the same time, I couldn’t shake the sensation that disaster was right around the corner. I harbored the continuous terrorizing sense that I was in ocean-deep water with my chin just above the surface, dogpaddling like crazy so I wouldn’t go under. I knew that if I did, it would be the end of me.
I got plenty of traditional counseling over the decades, starting with my first therapist at age 17. I accepted what she and all my subsequent mental health professionals told me about my biologically based, supposedly incurable illness. For over three decades, the psychiatrists and therapists who considered me their patient insisted that only therapy and psychiatric drugs would help me gain power over my depression. Looking back, I believe that they truly wanted to help me. Yet, despite their efforts and my earnest attempts to feel better, I remained powerless. Though I functioned—at times scarcely or not at all—I passed through the decades barely engaged in life. For those who didn’t know me well, most of the time, I appeared to be functional and, well, “normal.” I completed my bachelor’s degree by age 21 and began my professional life, at which I succeeded, eventually owning my own company at age 29. At times, I appeared happy, I even had a sense of humor, and was talkative and outgoing; this was all a façade. From my outward appearance, I may have seemed fine; but inside, I was tormented. Only those closest to me knew.
By my late forties, the pain of depression and all the meds I was taking were not only emotionally but also physically debilitating. It occupied my mind and body. I could focus on nothing else. I dreaded the future and saw no possibility of relief ahead. It all culminated in 2007, when I intentionally drank too much wine and located Harrison’s gun. If he hadn’t taken me to Western Psych, I most probably wouldn’t have made it—which wouldn’t have been the worst-case scenario. In fact, despite my desire to be free from pain, I felt paralyzed and suffered terribly from my inability to follow through with suicide. Besides dooming my children, I envisioned that the horror of a failed attempt might render me conscious yet stuck in a useless, wordless body—and more disconsolate than ever. Being trapped with emotional and mental torment forever, unable to communicate or move—still not knowing what will happen when I die—would be, I imagined, the most inescapable torture of all.
This is what struck me as I slowly awakened in the emergency room at Western Psych and what eventually gave me the courage to find a better way, beyond traditional therapy and pharmaceuticals, to finally take control of my health, my mind, my life. It was, essentially, a turning point from dark to light.
That is why I’ve titled this book Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression. Not only have I healed my depression through means outside of traditional mental health treatment, I’ve also been lovingly led into the light—a persistent, impenetrable condition of joy, contentment, and peace. For that, I am abundantly and endlessly thankful. It is nothing short of a transformation into a way of being that I had never dreamed was possible. Every morning, I awake joyful and grateful to have been gifted another depression-free day. As of this writing, I am eight years without depression’s malevolence. I still can hardly believe it. I marvel when life continues to throw difficult challenges my way, but I remain mostly unfazed.
I fear not because I know that I am beyond the risk of descending back into the darkness. Finally living fully and embracing life consciously, I now feel a sense of responsibility and purpose to share my experience with those who suffer with this dreadful/deplorable condition. My mission is to shed light on effective alternative ways to heal, so that others may emerge out of the darkness and enjoy lives of joy, health, and peace.
***
Excerpt from Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression by Debra Holz. Copyright 2022 by Debra Holz. Reproduced with permission from Debra Holz. All rights reserved.
Debra Holz —Author of Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression
Debra Holz is the author of Out of the Darkness: Aligning Science and Spirit to Overcome Depression, which won the national Taz author’s award in the non-fiction category and achieved best-seller status on Amazon.
A natural storyteller, her book chronicles her 50-year struggle with major clinical depression and ultimately, how she healed her brain and balanced her neurochemistry beyond traditional psychiatric treatment. Using neuroplasticity techniques she developed and a major change in her underlying beliefs, she rewired and healed her brain and has been depression free since 2014.
It is her passionate mission to share her story with as many depression sufferers as possible so they too may heal themselves. Debra has been a successful freelance writer and journalist since 1985. Besides her talent for direct response creativity, she is known for her expertise in legal content for major law firms as well as the technology and computer industry, banks, and investment corporations.
She also has written for many major city newspapers.
To learn more about Debra, click on any of the following links: DebraHolz.life, Instagram – @debraholz, Twitter – @debraholz11 & Facebook
Visit all the Stops on the Tour!
03/27 Showcase @ The Book Divas Reads
03/27 Showcase @ The Book Divas Reads
04/04 Review @ Paws. Read. Repeat
04/05 Review @ Savings in Seconds
04/11 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
04/13 Review & Interview @ Hott Books
04/14 Showcase @ Coffee and Ink
04/15 Interview @ darciahelle
04/19 Review @ Wall-to-wall Books
04/20 Review @ Enjoyingbooksagain
Elena Taylor/Elena Hartwell
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
The post Out of the Darkness: Nonfiction appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 29, 2023
A Stolen Voice: Everbeach Book 2
A Stolen Voice, The fast-paced, immersive sequel to Red as Blood, by Dominique Richardson
Spotlight + Book & Author InfoDon’t miss our interview for Red as Blood! Click the link here. A Stolen Voice
The fast-paced, immersive sequel to Red as Blood-with more page-turning suspense, forbidden romance, and twisted secrets for fans to devour.
Penny Zale’s secret is out, and it’s only the beginning.
When friends Aarya and Dawn head to Jamaica to escape the fall-out from Penny’s disappearance, the plan backfires once they’re contacted by a mysterious whistleblower known only as Dagger. He’s being hunted for the secrets he holds, and he needs their help.
But as Aarya falls into a steamy off-limits romance with mega pop-star Jett John, and Dawn battles temptation when she meets adventurous islander Keenan King, each of them must come to terms with their culture and faith, even if it means risking everything they’ve always wanted.
When the unthinkable happens and Dagger’s trail goes cold, Aarya and Dawn find themselves pitted against Jamaican voodoo, jungle chases, cliff diving, and danger at sea while uncovering Dagger’s truth-and giving it the voice it so desperately deserves.
An addicting saga that reads like a must-binge Netflix series, A Stolen Voice is perfect for fans of Cinder, American Royals, and Gossip Girl.
To purchase A Stolen Voice, click the following links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound.Dominique Richardson, author of A Stolen Voice
Dominique Richardson is the coauthor of The Everbeach Series—a young adult, romantic suspense series full of forbidden romance, deadly twists, and scandalous secrets that will keep you turning pages into the night.
The first book in the series, Red as Blood, came out February 28, 2023. Passionate about all things books and giving back to the community, she is also the Executive Director and cofounder of YA by the Bay, a nonprofit young adult reading and leadership festival, dedicated to inspiring teens to “be the author of your own life.”
Raised between Jamaica and the United States, her biracial heritage finds a home in her books.
She spends her free time passing on her love of unicorns to her twin boys, running in the Florida heat, and drinking all the coffee. She now lives in Tampa, Florida with her family.
To learn more about Dominique, click on any of the following links: Website: authordominiquerichardson.com, Instagram: www.instagram.com/domwritesbooks, Twitter: www.twitter.com/domwritesbooks & TikTok: www.tiktok.com/@domwritesbooks
Elena Taylor/Elena HartwellAll We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
Header Photo by vanni_mc on Pixabay
The post A Stolen Voice: Everbeach Book 2 appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 28, 2023
Murder in Postscript: Historical Mystery
Murder in Postscript, launches a new series by Mary Winters
Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Pet Corner!Don’t miss any author interviews! Click the link here. Murder in Postscript
When one of her readers asks for advice following a suspected murder, Victorian countess Amelia Amesbury, who secretly pens the popular Lady Agony column, has no choice but to investigate in this first book in a charming new historical mystery series.
Amelia Amesbury—widow, mother, and countess—has a secret. Amelia writes for a London penny paper, doling out advice on fashion, relationships, and manners under the pen name Lady Agony.
But when a lady’s maid writes Amelia to ask for advice when she believes her mistress has been murdered—and then ends up a victim herself—Amelia is determined to solve the case.
With the help of her best friend and a handsome marquis, Amelia begins to piece together the puzzle, but as each new thread of inquiry ends with a different suspect, the investigation grows ever more daunting.
From London’s docks and ballrooms to grand country houses, Amelia tracks a killer, putting her reputation—and her life—on the line.
To purchase Murder in Postscript , click any of the following links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop, IndieBound, Audible.Enter to win an autographed copy of Murder in Postscript! Join my newsletter — Already a member? You’re automatically entered to win. Murder in Postscript — Author Interview Murder in Postscript is set in Victorian London. What drew you to writing about that era?Thank you for having me on the blog, Elena! I really appreciate the invite. (Great to have you visit!)
I’ve always loved reading historical mysteries set in the Victorian era. I enjoy the tension the era provides between a sleuth and her setting. She must not only solve a mystery, but do so under the social constraints of the time period. As a reader and writer, I like the additional challenge.
Amelia Amesbury is a countess in Murder in Postscript , but she also pens an advice column under the name Lady Agony. Tell us about Agony Aunts and why Amelia chooses to write in secret:In the Victorian era, the word agony included general problems, agonies.
Correspondents posed questions about their problems to various newspapers and inexpensive magazines. Some venues, such as the Times, simply repeated the question or quandary. But others, like the London Journal, dealt with the problem at length in an agony column, or what we call an advice column today.
Amelia works in secret because she’s a countess. As a member of the aristocracy, she would be condemned for having a job, especially one that caters to the masses.
Along with solving a crime, Murder in Postscript investigates the clothing, social expectations, and gender roles from England near the turn of the last century. How well would you have fit in with that place and time?In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have fit in very well!
I would enjoy teatime and some of the fashions, but I wouldn’t enjoy the gendered social rules, especially concerning work. I love learning, teaching, and writing too much to ever give them up.
What was the most challenging aspect about writing a historical set in England?One of the challenges I faced while researching agony columns is that they were printed in popular, cheap magazines that weren’t always saved, archived, or digitized. This meant digging deeper when it came to agony columns themselves.
Material on the Victorian era in general, however, was abundant. The Times has a digital archive to which I subscribe that allows me to read about any particular day in the era.
You also write contemporary cozies, including the Professor Prather mysteries and the Happy Camper series. What are the common threads between your academic sleuth Emmaline Prather, Zo Jones, owner of the Happy Camper gift shop, and now, Amelia Amesbury a countess from another country so long ago?Even though they live in different places and time periods, they are all strong, independent women who care about justice. They aren’t afraid to fight for what they believe in, even if it’s not popular.
What are you working on now?I’m working on the second book in the Lady of Letters series. I’m also working on a new short story.
Words of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:Invest in good coffee, chocolate, and wine. But mostly wine!
Great advice! Congratulations on your new series.Author Pet Corner!
Brownie, the best dog in the world.
O’Malley, our kitten and “little cat.”
Bosco, our “big cat.”Bosco, our “big cat.”
O’Malley, our kitten and “little cat.”
Brownie, the best dog in the world.
Mary Winters — Author of Murder in Postscript
© Julie Prairie PhotographyMary Winters is the author of the Lady of Letters mystery series.
A longtime reader of historical fiction and an author of two other mystery series,
Mary set her latest work in Victorian England after being inspired by a trip to London. Since then, she’s been busily planning her next mystery—and another trip! Find out more about Mary and her writing at marywintersauthor.com.
To learn more about Mary, click on her name, photo or any of the following links: Facebook & InstagramWriting as Mary Angela: Website, Facebook, Twitter & GoodreadsElena Taylor/Elena Hartwell
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
Header image by UrsaMinorArt on Pixabay
The post Murder in Postscript: Historical Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 21, 2023
Bones Under the Ice: Debut Mystery
Bones Under the Ice, by Mary Ann Miller
Author Interview + Book & Author InfoDon’t miss any debut author interviews! Click the link here.Bones Under the Ice
Jhonni Laurent is the first female sheriff of Field’ s Crossing, Indiana— and now she has her first murder case
Two days after a blizzard hits Field’ s Crossing, Indiana, Sheriff Jhonni Laurent discovers the frozen body of a high school senior under a fifteen-foot pile of snow and ice. Murder is rare in farm country, and this death marks the beginning of Jhonni’ s first homicide case.
Just as the investigation gets underway, Jhonni’ s opponent for sheriff from four years ago wages a bitter reelection battle to oust her. Then, Jhonni finds another body, and further complications arise when a century-old feud between two families reaches its breaking point.
Soon, a slew of newspaper articles causes the Indiana State Election Board to doubt her credibility. Jhonni must fight to maintain her reputation, keep the small farming community together, and find the murderer at large— all while demons from her own past threaten to crush her. Can she find the killer and mend her battered spirit before it’ s too late?
To purchase Bones Under the Ice click any of the following links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Kobo, Books A Million, Google Play, Indie Bound.Bones Under the Ice — Author InterviewBones Under the Ice is set in Field’s Crossing, Indiana. Tell us about that community and why you chose a small Midwest won as the setting for your debut novel.
I grew up in a small town, Bartlett, Illinois and I remember when we were young there were cows in a pasture at the end of the street. My parents tell me they bought the second house on the street and they still live there.
After finishing college and getting married, Mike and I bought our first home in Barrington, Illinois, another small town in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. As our children grew up, there was a sense of security, that everyone knew everyone else. We would walk down Cook Street to get ice cream and stop and chat with neighbors along the way.
Small towns are all I know so when it came time to choose a setting, it was easy. Field’s Crossing is a mixture of all of the small towns I have lived in and the one I currently live in, Winter Garden, Florida.
What would you like the reader to know about Sheriff Jhonni Laurent, the main character in Bones Under the Ice?Sheriff Jhonni Laurent is not a spring chicken. She is 52 years old and down to earth, common sense type of person. She loves music, gardening, and her job, but the past haunts her. When the daughter she gave up for adoption contacts her, Jhonni is shocked and scared. She thought that chapter of her life was closed. Should she open that chapter up again? Will she get hurt again? The uncertainty keeps her awake at night.
Tell us about your publishing journey for Bones Under the Ice.I began writing during my days as a crossing guard. I was at Ladies Night Out and telling stories about the kids who came through my corner and what they said. One of the women suggested I write the stories down and that led to – what else can I write?
I was fortunate to sign with Dawn Dowdle from the Blue Ridge Literary Agency in July 2021 and she placed my debut novel and the next novel in the series with Oceanview Publishing in February 2022.
How alike are you and the main character?Many readers think that an author’s first novel is a reflection of the author and in some ways, it’s true. Growing up, I played the violin. Jhonni Laurent plays the cello. I’m a Midwest gardener and so is my main character. Many of Jhonni Laurent’s food and beverage choices are my own, ice tea with lemon, tuna on rye. But some things are the exact opposite. I’m only five feet tall. Jhonni is five feet, ten inches. I always wanted to be taller. Her hair is only beginning to turn gray. Mine started turning gray when I was twenty-five years old.
What can we find you doing when you aren’t writing or reading?Babysitting my new granddaughter, Emory, who lives seventeen houses away. Landscaping our Florida home. Very different than the Midwest. I’m also a full-time caregiver for my husband, Mike, who suffered a stroke in 2021 and continues to have complications. The next book in the Jhonni Laurent series is ready for submission to my publisher and book three is beginning to take shape in my mind.
Words of wisdom for aspiring writers:As the song says, “the road is long with many a winding turn …” Stick to it. It took me over ten years to learn how to write and find an agent and I’m still learning. Learn something new every day. Keep your mind and your body active.
Mary Ann Miller — Author of Bones Under the Ice
Mary Ann Miller is a debut author, currently living in Florida with her husband, where she is working on the second novel in the series.
She received a Bachelor of Arts degree from Northern Illinois University and earned a paralegal certificate with Roosevelt University.
Miller is a member of MWA, ITW, and Sisters in Crime and when not writing, can be found reading poolside or hosting family and friends fleeing the cold winters of the north.
To learn more about Mary Ann, click on her name, photo, or any of the following links: Website, Instagram, Facebook, Goodreads, BookBub, LinkedInElena Taylor/Elena Hartwell
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
Header image by Yakuplpek on Pixabay
The post Bones Under the Ice: Debut Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 15, 2023
A Bad Bout of the Yips
A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris
Guest Post + Book & Author Info + Excerpt
Don’t miss any book tour posts! Click the link here.
A Bad Bout of the Yips
PI Steve Rockfish’s morning meeting was supposed to focus on a case of straightforward harassment. Two clients had purchased a miniature golf course and instantly became victims of vandalism and projected intolerance. But as the team investigates, a neighborhood’s bigoted knee jerk reaction to a new sapphic-owned business, is in fact a laser focused plan of intimidation.
Before anyone can yell FORE!, violence litters the front nine after Rockfish uncovers the real perpetrator, their actual motive, and dangerous accomplices. Soon, an old nemesis returns to raise the stakes with plans of revenge and domination. Now facing a battle on two fronts, Rockfish finds his allies thinning at the worst possible time, and recklessly goes on the offensive.
The back nine takes Rockfish and McGee on a frenetic ride from a corporate boardroom, across cyberspace, and to the 19th hole where a long overdue showdown will change everything for the partners, for better and worse.
Book Details:
Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: Black Rose Writing
Publication Date: March 2023
Number of Pages: 356
ISBN: 1685131530 (ISBN-13 978-1685131531)
Series: The Case Files of Steve Rockfish – 3
To purchase A Bad Bout of the Yips, click any of the following links: Amazon | BLACK ROSE WRITING
Guest Post — The Trouble with Cell Phones
by Ken Harris
Ah, modern technology. The amount of computing power in the average cell phone is greater than what it took to put a man on the moon. Sometimes it is hard to wrap your head around statistics like that. Especially when you’re an old fart like me. Imagine trying to write a crime thriller in today’s world. Where everyone has a cell phone in their hand. At all times. Geeze Louise. Does an author account for the device? Do you coast over it and hope the reader doesn’t ask “Why didn’t they pull out their cell phone?”
For every scene I write, where a character can use Siri to open a new note and dictate a report or document something they might have seen while on surveillance, there are others where I have to account for the same damn phone. Sometimes a huge help, others a larger hindrance. My main protagonist, Steve Rockfish, is a hard-nosed, hard-drinking old school private eye. His partner, Jawnie McGee is a hipster computer nerd. Former computer repair tech and the one who’s helping bring Rockfish into the 21st century. He’s reluctantly holding on to his colored pencils and 3×5 index cards.
Cell phones. Smart phones. Every walking person has one. Children and even Rockfish now rocks an iPhone. It’s a technology angle that could be addressed in every scene of a chapter. In every chapter of a novel. Going to meet a potential bad guy? Why not have the phone in your breast pocket and recording? Why not use the camera to document a scene? Or use it to call for help as the bad guys close in? These are thoughts that potentially could pull the reader out of the story and that is the last thing I want to do. How long will they ponder the point? Will they pick up the book again or has the bookmark been pulled?
In a lot of crime thrillers, characters are captured or taken into custody. Can you just gloss over the removal of their personal devices? You can’t have someone use their phone after being locked away in a room. The first thing a reader will wonder is why were the bad guys so dumb as to not search them. They searched them for weapons, right? Why skip the cell phone in the jacket pocket? Or buried at the bottom of a purse.
Technology. You have to account for it. No ways around it. It’s a part of being an author in these times that is very challenging. There are scenes where I sit back, push the keyboard in and revel in how well it turned out. Then I realize, well Jawnie has a cell phone in her back pocket, why didn’t she do this that or the other thing? How would that have turned the tables? Why didn’t she just dial 9-1-1? In “See You Next Tuesday: From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish – 2” I had a beta reader inquire exactly that. They send me a text message detailing what scene they finished. The next text simply said “why didn’t they dial 9-1-1 when they left the gas station?” Back into my 9th draft I dove, trying to prevent anyone else from pondering that same issue.
What would be an example of overlooking technology that would pull you out of the story? Or the complete opposite, the ever-popular sprinkling of Hollywood between the words that makes you question if it would even be possible to do. You’ve read the scene. A computer tech types very hard on a keyboard for seven seconds, claims to have hacked half a dozen mainframe computers and displays the results in a virtual 3D model above the conference room table.
I’d like to know your thoughts down in the comments. Help an inquisitive author understand.
Read an excerpt from A Bad Bout of The Yips
CHAPTER ONE
You’ve reached Rockfish & McGee, Investigative Specialists. At the tone, leave your name and message. Someone will get back to you. [Beep]
Jawnie stared down at her phone, annoyed. She hung up the call after the office’s message ended and slid the phone into her messenger bag. With a proper receptionist comes a proper voicemail message. It’s about time. Where the heck is everyone? Rockfish could be out doing God knows what, but what about Lynn? Maybe she’s in the can after an extra spicy lunch? Jawnie laughed to herself. There were a thousand and one reasons Lynn couldn’t get to the phone. Don’t go all Rockfish at once.
The sun had slipped behind the clouds on a mid-Thursday afternoon when Jawnie walked down the endless row of marble steps in front of the Baltimore County Government building. She had submitted her final report regarding former county employee Harvey Henderson, who had been sitting at home on disability from a leg injury suffered while on the job. Henderson ran a bulldozer at the county landfill. That was until he fell off the equipment and reportedly injured his leg.
Jawnie loved this type of case. She conducted a couple of surveillances to find out Henderson’s daily schedule and then one final, quick outing to snap a few pictures from a safe distance. Jawnie followed Harvey and his mistress down to the town of Laurel and out on the Rocky Gorge Reservoir, where the couple spent the day attempting to wake-board. The day served as a twofer and the future ex-Mrs. Henderson would gain the information needed to win her freedom without spending a dime.
At the bottom of the steps, she pulled her phone back out, and double checked the time. Five after two and still no notifications. Apparently, nothing of importance had transpired while she was in the meeting with the County Commissioners. Her car was across the street in the paid lot, and she glanced up from the screen. Jawnie felt flush and concern filled her brain. The green Kia Soul remained parked at the corner, blocking a hydrant. Her heart kicked it up a notch.
The damn thing hadn’t moved in the hour and a half while I was inside. Jesus Christ, I don’t need this shit today. Or any day. Fuck.
Three times today since leaving her condo, the Kia coincidently found itself parked nearby, always within eyesight. The odd shaped vehicle and the color stood out. Amateur hour or someone who clearly wants me to notice. Jawnie gritted her teeth, glanced both ways, and then kept her head down as she jogged across the street. She walked through the small lot until she found her Subaru and slid behind the wheel. She pulled around to the exit gate and paid the attendant. A second later, the arm rose, but the car didn’t move. Thoughts of the Kia had Jawnie lost deep in her mind.
What Would Rockfish Do? Probably tell me to go on the offensive, concern be damned. Well, I’m definitely not going to pull sideways in front of this guy, jump out and confront him, that’s for sure. People are crazy these days and with my luck I’d end up TikTok famous #KarensGoneWild. Okay, let’s see if I’m imagining things. Maybe give him a little I see you action instead.
Jawnie turned left onto Pennsylvania Ave and sped up. At the end of the block, when she was right alongside the Kia, she held her breath and cut the wheel. The Subaru hung a hard right onto Baltimore Ave and missed the Kia’s left front fender by only a foot. Enough to make him take notice. She straightened the wheel and exhaled. Her eyes shot to the rearview mirror. The Kia followed suit but was losing ground as she pressed down on the accelerator. The car remained a block back when Jawnie turned right again. Her eyes flickered from the front windshield to the rearview, expecting to see the Kia at any second, but it never appeared. Or at least that she noticed. Her grip on the steering wheel grew tighter.
Did I lose him? Was he some civilian who flew into road rage when I almost hit him and then gave up once his blood pressure came down? No. I definitely saw that car multiple times today.
Half an hour later and back in Anne Arundel County, Jawnie received an answer to her question. She spotted the Kia two cars back at a traffic light. Alright McGee, you aren’t imagining things. Let’s figure out who this driver is.
“Hey Siri. New note.”
“What do you want it to say?”
“Dark green Kia Soul Maryland Plate 555-RJ4K.”
“Ok, I’ve created your note. It’s called Dark green Kia Soul Maryland plate 555-RJ4K.”
I’ll call Michelle at DMV to run it as soon as I get back to the office. The favor may cost me a drink or an actual date, but it will be worth it to know who he is. Hopefully, the name will ring a bell. The last thing I need is a fresh surprise.
Jawnie was only a mile from the office but took the Kia on a short sight-seeing tour of Linthicum Heights. See exactly how dedicated the driver was to their mission. First stop was Fairway Car Wash. Jawnie got in line behind the others and when it was her turn, she lined up the front left tire to the guide and selected the Supreme.
A tapping on the driver’s side glass caught her attention. “Hands off the wheel, ma’am.”
Jawnie looked down. White knuckles. Her hands slid off the wheel and fell to her lap as the car jerked forward. She tried to relax and think calmly as the conveyor pulled her forward. Each stage coated the windshield with a different chemical and blocked the view. Because you don’t see him, it doesn’t mean he’s gone. Maybe he’s hiding behind that iHop, but with a simple line of sight as you exit the car wash? What’s next? Mario’s? She had dry cleaning that was overdue to be picked up. Big ass empty lot there, nowhere to hide and nowhere to street park. As she exited the car wash, the track gave way. Her hands returned to the wheel. Jawnie waved off the man, wanting to finish drying the Subaru with an armful of hand towels. I’m good, no thank you, she mouthed as she cracked the window and slid out a five-dollar bill.
Mario’s was four lights further down the road and by the third red light, the Kia emerged from the background. Jawnie could feel the sweat building on her lower back. A single drop formed on the side of her face. She lifted her arm and wiped away the drop with her sleeve. Mario’s came up on the left and Jawnie put on her blinker. No need to attempt some big ruse at this point.
Five minutes later, she exited Mario’s with her dry cleaning hung over her left shoulder and iPhone held in her right, ready to capture the moment for posterity’s sake. Jawnie took the picture before the guy could raise his newspaper in a piss poor effort to hide his identity. She unlocked the Subaru and hung her clothes on the back hook. She got in and slammed the door. A combination of the force and noise caused her to jump. Goddamnit! WWRD? I should have done something proactive after the meeting back at the county building. Jawnie reached into the center console. She chose her weapon of choice and speed walked to the Kia. Deep breath, deep breath. Look and act like you belong here.
The man was blond, with very short hair. Maybe balding. She couldn’t tell with the slight window tint. When he spotted her approaching, the newspaper went back up. Jawnie snapped another picture before sliding the phone into her back pocket. She tapped on the window. The early edition of the Baltimore Sun didn’t move.
She rapped her knuckles a second time. Harder, louder. This time the paper came down and the man’s eyebrows went up. He reached over and lowered the window, roughly two inches, before speaking.
“Can I help—”
The mace streamed through the opening as if she was an Olympic crack shot. The creeper didn’t see it coming and Jawnie didn’t stick around to see the after-effects. She could hear his screams, interlaced with every curse word in the book by the time she slid behind the wheel. Her death grip returned, and she rocketed out of Mario’s parking lot without a clear destination in mind and a little less rubber on her tires.
The Subaru ended up in the parking lot of a Wawa, a good half mile down the road. Jawnie parked behind the convenience store. She pulled up the note she made earlier with the Kia’s license plate and added the photos. At the bottom of the note, she dictated the man’s description in two sentences and returned her phone to the cup holder.
Jawnie exhaled and didn’t move. How long had it been? Three months? Maybe a little longer. Well, kid, it was an enjoyable ride. I look forward to the next extended period of calm. Maybe today showed I’m not built for this line of work. Her mind went back to the night on Rockfish’s front lawn. Porbeagle’s gun. The sound of the shot. The smell of burning cotton as the bullet passed through the material of her oversized sweatshirt. Fixing middle school laptops out of my garage doesn’t sound so bad now. Granted, no one’s launching a streaming network based on that show, but then again, I don’t have to look over my shoulder every time I leave the goddamn house. Jawnie stopped rubbing her hands and dropped her head into them. The tears flowed freely.
She didn’t remember how long she remained parked next to the dumpster, but when she felt she could make it back to the office without having a complete emotional meltdown, she shifted into drive.
*** Excerpt from A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris. Copyright 2023 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris.
Ken Harris, author of A Bad Bout of the Yips
Ken Harris retired from the FBI, after thirty-two years, as a cybersecurity executive. With over three decades writing intelligence products for senior Government officials, Ken provides unique perspectives on the conventional fast-paced crime thriller. He is the author of the “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” series.
He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent playing Walkabout Mini Golf and cheering on Philadelphia sports.
Ken firmly believes Pink Floyd, Irish whiskey and a Montecristo cigar are the only muses necessary. He is a native of New Jersey and currently resides in Virginia’s Northern Neck.
To learn more about Ken, click on any of the following links: KenHarrisFiction.com, Goodreads, BookBub – @08025writes, Instagram – @kenharrisfiction, Twitter – @08025writes, Facebook – @kah623 & Twitch – @kenharrisfiction
Visit all the Stops on the Tour!
03/06 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
03/08 Showcase @ Books, Ramblings, and Tea
03/11 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
03/12 Interview @ Mythical Books
03/13 Review @ flightnurse70_book_reviews
03/14 Showcase @ Celticladys Reviews
03/15 Guest post @ The Mystery of Writing
03/16 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
03/18 Interview @ darciahelle
03/19 Review @ Urban Book Reviews
03/21 Interview @ Hott Books
03/22 Review @ Wall-to-wall Books
03/24 Review @ Novels Alive
03/25 Showcase @ Im Into Books
03/30 Review @ Paws. Read. Repeat
03/30 Review @ Guatemala Paula Loves to Read
03/31 Review @ Melissa As Blog
04/01 Review @ Review Thick & Thin
Elena Taylor/Elena Hartwell
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
The post A Bad Bout of the Yips appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 11, 2023
Memories Don’t Lie: Sci-Fi Debut
Memories Don’t Lie, the debut science fiction/Action adventure novel by Pauline Yates
Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Fictional Pet Corner!Don’t miss any author interviews! Click the link here.
Sarah Wilson, orphaned niece of Lieutenant John Wilson, is determined to escape his restrictive upbringing and find her place in the world.
Her journey takes a deadly turn when she uncovers secrets about her past, hidden deep in her mother’s memories, that threaten everything Sarah wants.
They could cost her everything she holds dear—and her life.
To purchase Memories Don’t Lie, click any of the following links: Black Hare Press, Books2Read, Amazon, Barnes and Noble & IndieBoundAuthor Interview — Memories Don’t Lie Memories Don’t Lie introduces main character Sarah Wilson. What would you like readers to know about her?Sarah Wilson is the 17 yr old orphaned niece of Lieutenant John Wilson, and her goal is to claim the Tactical Skills top graduate title so she can join Red Bluff Military’s best Civilian Safety Response team. With exceptional speed and shooting ability, she’s a natural, according to her trainer. And everything I just told you about her is a lie, as Sarah finds out.
Memories Don’t Lie is set in a futuristic California, what led you to that location for your debut novel? How does that contrast to where you live?I live in Australia, so California is far from home, but I grew up reading stories set in America more than any other place so it was natural for me to set my stories there. When I started writing, the majority of publications I targeted were also in America, and so it made sense to set the story there, and use American English. It’s also a place I’d love to visit, and I did, in a way, during the research for this novel.
What kind of research did you do for Memories Don’t Lie ?Aside from trekking across California via Google maps and Google Earth, and asking for detailed descriptions from my American editors, other areas of research included genetic engineering in humans, gene doping in sports, memory functions in the brain, cyber security, military base locations and training programs, types of weapons, and paramedic responses to trauma and injury. And boxing from videos on YouTube.
Tell us about your publishing journey:Memories Don’t Lie was the first serious piece of fiction I wrote. The second and third in the series followed, then I went back to Memories to edit. During all of this, I was introduced to short story writing, which I’d never considered.
My first attempts were in short story competitions, and I surprised myself by doing well. The beauty of writing short stories is that they teach you how to write better, ie: tighten your sentences, cut the fluff, and strengthen the story structure. I applied everything I learned to my novel, but they also provided a quick sense of accomplishment. Novels take years to develop, and even longer to get published. A short story can be written, submitted, and published in a few months. Having some strikes on the publishing board is also great for your author bio. I went from having nothing published to award finalist with a credible publishing history.
When the time came to query Memories, I was confidant I had enough to catch a publishers eye. The truth was, querying was harder than I expected, and it didn’t seem to matter what I’d done in the past. My responses from agents were no response, form rejections, or ‘we love it but it’s not for us at this time’. The process flattened me. I began to question whether I wanted an agent because I’ve always communicated well with my short story publishers and I wanted representation that was more personal and direct. So I took a chance. I contacted Black Hare Press, an Australian publisher who I’d sold many short stories to and who work as hard as me, and asked them to spare me the agony of querying.
The rest is a dream come true. I sent them my book, and they sent me a contract.
Artwork for the Series
I asked my daughter to bring my characters to life in art form. She did such a great job, I shared them with the publisher. Her artwork now features in my book, on the chapter headings, title page, and on the ebook version.
Credits for pics:
Author photo – mine
Cover – Black Hare Press
Other artwork – Chryselle Webb (daughter)
With short stories, you need to hit the ground running. There is no room, especially if there’s a word limit, to give detailed descriptions about scenes and characters. Everything needs to be short and sharp. There’s also no room for multiple characters. Every character you add has a backstory and an agenda and adding in those details, even if short, can blow out your word count. Regarding the different genres, I don’t have a problem switching between them, although once I had to write a spy story for a competition and I accidently turned it into a horror when everyone died at the end.
Every genre has a set of conventions that are needed to make the story work, so it’s important to know those. And regardless of length, every story needs a hook, a relatable character, a goal, and what’s at stake.
What are you working on now?I have a couple of short stories in the works, and I’m also working on the sequel to Memories. What gets finished first remains to be seen.
Final words of wisdom for aspiring writers:Read broadly, and not specifically in your genre. See what works, and what doesn’t. Write every day, even if only for ten minutes. It doesn’t take long for the habit to set in, and for the words to start flowing. Be brave in your writing. Try different methods, different genres, to find your voice. Write short stories, the shorter the better, to hone your craft. Don’t give up. Writing is a journey, and everything you do is another step forward. Finally, just enjoy it, because honestly, what is better than writing.
Author Pet Corner!
Whooska and Sasha!I have so many pets in my life – a horse, fish, the native birds I entice around, and yes, the carpet
snakes that live in my work shed, and a really cool blue-tongue lizard, but my two best buddies
are:
Whooska – my 20 year old cat, who is quite happy to use every one of his nine lives. For the last
ten years, he’s woken me at 3am for food. I can’t leave it out for him because he insists on fresh
food straight from the packet and yowls incessantly if I ignore him.
Sasha – my 7 year old rescue Border Collie X – she’s my shadow and terrified of the cat.
Pauline Yates (she/her) is the Australian author of Memories Don’t Lie; a fast-paced science fiction novel inspired by her love for dark and dangerous action and adventure.
An Australasian Shadows Awards finalist, her short-form horror and dark fiction appear in numerous publications in Australia and abroad. Pauline loves writing at midnight when her muse is the most volatile and enjoys taking pictures of the sunrise—if she wakes up in time.
To learn more about Pauline, click on any of the following links:Website: https://paulineyates.com/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/pauline_yates
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17174636.Pauline_Yates
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pauline-yates
Insta: https://www.instagram.com/midnightmuser1/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/midnightmuser1
TiKTok: @midnightmuser1
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
Header image by mirerek8 on Pixabay
The post Memories Don’t Lie: Sci-Fi Debut appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 8, 2023
Fact & Fiction by Justin M. Kiska
Fact & Fiction, police procedural by Justin M. Kiska
Spotlight + Excerpt + Book & Author Info!Don’t miss any blog tour posts! Click the link here.Fact & Fiction
As the leaves begin to change colors and the weather starts turning cooler in the historic city in the heart of Western Maryland, Parker City Police Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason are called to Saint Paul’s where the recently installed Father Roland Taylor, who has become very popular in the community, has been found dead in his office at the church. By all appearances it seems to be a tragic case of a break-in gone wrong.
Only twenty-four hours later, the detectives find themselves at the home of the city’s well-known morning radio show DJ, Morning Mike Moran, who also seems to have been the victim of a robbery gone wrong. Coincidence?
Neither Ben nor Tommy believe in coincidences. But at first glance, it seems to be just that. Until they find that the victims shared a common interest and begin an investigation that leads them to uncover a secret Parker City has been hiding for over one hundred and twenty years.
Genre: Police Procedural
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: February 2023
Number of Pages: 330
Series: Parker City Mysteries, Book 3 | Each is a Stand Alone
Since I’ve started writing mysteries and attending events, conferences, and book groups, one question that is always asked is, “Are you a pantser or a plotter?”
Authors who are pantsers write their stories by the “seats of their pants.” They sit down and start writing and see where the story takes them. Plotters like to have an outline and know where their story is going. That doesn’t mean things can’t change, but there’s a bit more initial structure to the story when getting started. So, which am I?
My personality doesn’t allow me to be a pantser. I need to have some sort of an idea about where the story is going when I sit down to start writing. But I’m not a strict plotter either. For the most part, before I start writing, I already have a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen in the book. At least the most important plot points like who the killer is, what’s the reason behind the crime, is there going to be some sort of a twist. Basically, the lynchpins of the story. How I get from point to point is not always as thought out in advance though. At times, I’m even surprised by something that happens. I remember one time during the pandemic, I had been in the library writing all day and when I was finished, I sat down with my wife and said, “You’re never going to believe what Ben did today.” Ben, being the lead detective in my Parker City Mysteries Series.
If I don’t consider myself a pantser or a plotter, what do I consider myself? I am a murder boarder. And yes, I did just make up that term.
As I start each of my books, I create a murder board just like you see in television shows. I find pictures online of people that look like what I have in my head when I am creating the characters. Then they are all strung together with lines explaining each of their relationships. I add pictures of locations that match what I’m writing in the book to give me visuals and photos of whatever might have been found at the scene of the crime. I will even write up a mock autopsy report so that I don’t forget any of the details of the murder itself.
My wife has gotten used to walking into the library and seeing these boards all over the place. It’s guests who visit that sometimes need a warning. Luckily, everyone in my world is used to me writing mysteries so to find me with a stack of crime scene photos or looking at the fine details of a murder weapon doesn’t really faze them any longer. And let’s not even talk about my internet browser history. I’m sure by now I’m on a watch-list somewhere. But it’s all in the name of research and being able to come up with an entertaining story for the readers.
Justin M. Kiska — Author Fact & Fiction
When not sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries), Justin can usually be found at The Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre, outside of Washington, DC, where he is one of the owners and producers. In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series – which includes, NOW & THEN, VICE & VIRTUE, and FACT & FICTION – he is also the mastermind behind Marquee Mysteries, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for over fifteen years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland.
To learn more about Justin, click on any of the following links:JustinKiska.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @JMKiska
Instagram – @JMKiska
Twitter – @JustinKiska
Facebook – @JMKiskaExcerpt Fact & Fiction by Justin M. Kiska
The best laid plans, Ben thought to himself as he parked in front of Saint Paul’s Roman Catholic Church on Braddock Street. His hope of getting a few extra hours of sleep after spending the last several nights out late on a stakeout was shattered just a little after eight in the morning. The ringing of the telephone entwined seamlessly with his dream of being a concert violinist making his debut at Carnegie Hall. Something he could not in any way understand because he couldn’t play any instrument, let alone the violin. It wasn’t until the conductor in his dream started to tell him to leave his name and number after the beep that he realized he was hearing his own voice on the message answering machine.
With bleary eyes, he crossed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, grabbing the telephone just as Shirley, one of the PCPD’s dispatchers, was about to hang up.
“Hello. Hello?” he answered, trying to shake away the mental cobwebs.
“Hey, sweetie,” Shirley said with her slight southern drawl. “Sorry to wake you.”
“I wasn’t…I mean, I…”
“It’s okay, sugar. I heard you and Tommy were out late. But you got ‘em, so it’s all good.”
“Yeah. We did. What’s going on?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to catch up on your sleep some other time, dumplin’. You need to get over to Saint Paul’s. Patrol is reporting a break-in and Father Taylor was found D.O.A.”
That was all Ben needed to hear. The words were like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. He showered, skipped shaving–not that anyone would be able to tell with his baby face–and headed out the door. Just as he was stepping out of the car in front of the church, Tommy’s Bronco pulled up next to him.
Rolling down the window, from behind a pair of what looked like extra dark sunglasses, Tommy asked, “Please tell me I didn’t hear Shirley right?”
“A break-in and possible homicide?”
“Yeah.”
“You heard her right.”
“Dammit.”
Tommy did a quick U-turn and parked across the street. Getting out of the truck, he fumbled around in the back seat, finally pulling out a rumpled corduroy sport coat. Pulling it on over his wrinkled shirt, he noticed his partner giving him the once over as he crossed the road to meet him on the sidewalk.
“This is the best you’re gonna’ get today,” Tommy said pulling his badge out of his pocket and clipping it to the lapel of his jacket. “Hell, you’re lucky I put pants on. But I know how much you like me to dress up for crime scenes.”
It was true, Ben was always wearing a suit. He thought it helped to project a certain amount of authority while working a case. Considering he only looked like he was barely in his twenties when he was now thirty, it also helped him to look a little older. Truth be told, Ben could be wearing ripped up jeans and a leather biker’s jacket and he would still look like the boy next door. He was the poster child for what a stand-up Boy Scout should look like.
Tommy, on the other hand, would love to wear a leather jacket and jeans every day. He preferred comfort when it came to his attire. The reverse of Ben was true for Tommy. Even if he would show up wearing an expensive three-piece suit from a fancy story on New York’s Fifth Avenue, he’d still come off as a bad boy. The kind of guy all the girls fell for but would never take home to meet their mother. Mostly out of fear that their mothers would also fall for him.
“Any other details?” Tommy asked as he checked his Tom Selleck-style mustache in the side mirror of Ben’s car.
“I just got here myself.”
“I thought we were going to be able to take it easy after we picked up that dipshit last night. I mean, come on. We can’t even get a few hours of sleep!”
“Our burden is heavy,” Ben said, wondering if his sarcasm got through.
“The only thing that could make this morning any worse…”
“You mean other than finding the dead body of a popular priest?”
“You know what I mean…” Tommy said putting his hands up in his defense, “…is if the responding officer is…dammit.”
Ben turned to see Officer Buck LuCoco lumber out of the door to the church offices. A very large man, neither Ben nor Tommy understood how LuCoco was still on patrol. The fact he’d been with the department since the ‘50s and never been promoted beyond a patrol officer didn’t surprise either of them. He was one of the PCPD’s old guard that did absolutely as little as possible, while doing just enough to not be fired for complete dereliction of duty. Tommy thought he was a lazy slob. Ben couldn’t argue. The only thing LuCoco had going for him was his institutional knowledge of the city. He’d been around long enough to know a little about everyone and everything.
“Be nice,” Ben said to his partner through gritted teeth as LuCoco waddled his way to them. “Good morning, Buck.”
The officer grunted a response as he wiped his face with a handkerchief, finally saying, “It’s not a good morning for Father Taylor.”
“There was a break-in?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. One of the secretaries got here about seven-forty-five. She found the front door unlocked and thought Taylor already opened up for the day. Then she found the door to the priest’s office smashed and him dead. Now, I’m no expert, but I’ve been around long enough to know what a robbery-gone-wrong looks like. Whoever broke in here musta gotten caught by Taylor then they offed him.”
“Not being an expert, what makes you think that?” Tommy asked, barely containing the mockery.
“Well, there’s a pretty good hole in the priest’s head that looks like it coulda been caused by the heavy candlestick with blood on it lying next to him, smartass.”
“Alright,” Ben said in a tone that let both men know they needed to cool it. “Where’s the secretary now?”
“She’s in with Thompson.”
Ben knew Tommy was thinking the same thing he was. If Thompson had also responded, he’d have secured the scene using the protocols they’d been trying to get all of the patrol officers to use. He was one of the officers in the department who understood the importance of the new techniques being employed at a crime scene, and therefore the need to preserve a scene’s integrity. Unlike LuCoco and the guys who’d complained when Ben and Tommy had been promoted who thought if you couldn’t see a clue with your bare eyes, it wasn’t there.
“We’re going to head in and take a look around. Buck, will you radio in and have them roll the Crime Scene Unit and let the coroner know they have a pick-up?”
“Your wish is my command, Detective.”
“Hey. That’s Detective-Sergeant, remember,” Tommy corrected. “Remember, he outranks you in this department.”
Watching LuCoco head for his squad car, Ben said, “You really don’t need to do that.”
“What?” Tommy asked innocently.
“Throw my rank around. Sometimes I think you care more about it than I do.”
“Well, he needs to respect your stripes,” Tommy said in his defense. “And…I just don’t like him. I’m always afraid he’s going to have a heart attack and drop dead right in front of us. Then we’ll have so much paperwork to fill out. Seriously? Do you think he even knows what a salad is?”
Sometimes Ben needed to play the role of a stern father. “Okay. I get it. You have very strong feelings about him. But that’s enough now. If someone really did kill Roland Taylor, we’ve already got a big problem on our hands. I don’t need you starting another one with LuCoco.”
“Fine,” Tommy said, doing his best impression of a petulant child. “I’ll behave myself. Your wish is my command, Detective-Sergeant.”
Visit all the Stops on the Tour!
02/14 Review @ It’s All About the Book
02/15 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
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All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
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Lemon Curd Killer: A Tea Shop Mystery
Lemon Curd Killer, a Tea Shop Mystery by Laura Childs
High tea and high fashion turn deadly in this latest installment of the New York Times bestselling series.
Tea shop entrepreneur Theodosia Browning has been tapped to host a fancy Limón Tea in a genuine lemon orchard as a rousing kickoff to Charleston Fashion Week. But as fairy lights twinkle and the scent of lemon wafts among the tea tables, the deadly murder of a fashion designer puts the squeeze on things.
As the lemon curd begins to sour, the murdered woman’s daughter begs Theodosia to help find the killer. Tea events and fashion shows must go on, however, which puts Theodosia and her tea sommelier, Drayton Conneley, right in the thick of squabbling business partners, crazed clothing designers, irate film producers, drug deals, and a disastrous Tea Trolley Tour.
INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES AND TEA TIME TIPS!
Lemon Curd Killer (A Tea Shop Mystery)
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Cozy Mystery
25th in Series
Setting – South Carolina
Berkley (March 7, 2023)
Hardcover : 320 pages
ISBN-10 : 0593200926
ISBN-13 : 978-0593200926
Digital ASIN : B0B3HQFB3N
Laura Childs is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries, Scrapbook Mysteries, and Cackleberry Club Mysteries. In her previous life she was CEO/Creative Director of her own marketing firm and authored several screenplays. She is married to a professor of Chinese art history, loves to travel, rides horses, enjoys fundraising for various non-profits, and has two Chinese Shar-Pei dogs.
Laura specializes in cozy mysteries that have the pace of a thriller (a thrillzy!) Her three series are:
The Tea Shop Mysteries – set in the historic district of Charleston and featuring Theodosia Browning, owner of the Indigo Tea Shop. Theodosia is a savvy entrepreneur, and pet mom to service dog Earl Grey. She’s also an intelligent, focused amateur sleuth who doesn’t rely on coincidences or inept police work to solve crimes. This charming series is highly atmospheric and rife with the history and mystery that is Charleston.
The Scrapbooking Mysteries – a slightly edgier series that take place in New Orleans. The main character, Carmela, owns Memory Mine scrapbooking shop in the French Quarter and is forever getting into trouble with her friend, Ava, who owns the Juju Voodoo shop. New Orleans’ spooky above-ground cemeteries, jazz clubs, bayous, and Mardi Gras madness make their presence known here!
The Cackleberry Club Mysteries – set in Kindred, a fictional town in the Midwest. In a rehabbed Spur station, Suzanne, Toni, and Petra, three semi-desperate, forty-plus women have launched the Cackleberry Club. Eggs are the morning specialty here and this cozy cafe even offers a book nook and yarn shop. Business is good but murder could lead to the cafe’s undoing! This series offers recipes, knitting, cake decorating, and a dash of spirituality.
To learn more about Laura click on any of the following links: Website – Facebooka Rafflecopter giveawayVisit all the Stops on the Tour!
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Elena Taylor/Elena HartwellAll We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
The post Lemon Curd Killer: A Tea Shop Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 7, 2023
Even When You Lie: Debut Thriller
Even When You Lie by Michelle Cruz
Author Interview + Book & Author Info + Author Pet Corner!Don’t miss any debut author interviews! Click the link here. Even When You Lie
Perfect for fans of Lisa Scottoline and Kimberly McCreight, Michelle Cruz’s debut novel will have readers furiously turning the pages as they plunge headlong into the seedy underbelly of glitzy and glamorous Dallas in this gripping Texas noir.
Reagan Reyes hunts other people’s secrets. A former intelligence officer, she’s currently the in-house investigator for pricey criminal defense attorney, Cade McCarrick…and she’s his lover, despite the law firm’s rules forbidding romantic relationships between partners and staff. But their love—including their agreement never to lie to each other—is the only authenticity they have in a world of subterfuge and betrayal.
That agreement is pushed to its limits when a mysterious woman leaves an envelope for Cade and is soon discovered dead. While the envelope’s contents aren’t related to any of Cade’s current cases, Reagan uncovers a connection to a recent murder outside a Deep Ellum nightclub—and an even more ominous link to the dead woman.
The police don’t seem to care about either death, but they hit too close to home for Reagan to ignore. As she digs deeper into Dallas’s sordid underbelly, she’s completely on her own except for Cade—and there’s a killer bent on eliminating them both at any cost.
This pulse-pounding romantic thriller offers a fresh new take on big-city crime, from a dazzling and exciting new voice in the genre.
To purchase Even When You Lie , click any of the following links: Amazon, Penguin Random House, Barnes and Noble, and Books A Million.Even When You Lie — Author InterviewEven When You Lie centers on Reagan Reyes, a former intelligence officer. What would you like readers to know about her?She was affectionately nicknamed “little ball of rage” in an early draft by some of my critique partners, but her passion and pursuit of justice is something I hope people fall in love with. She’s not just rocking the boat for the fun of it; she’s legitimately making waves to affect change, and sometimes we all have to find that point within ourselves where we just can’t accept the status quo anymore.
Even When You Lie is set in Dallas. What makes that a great place to set a mystery?I grew up in Deep East Texas, so Houston was much more familiar.
Dallas, though, the way the skyline appeared on US-175 just before you hit Crandall always seemed magical. I’ve lived there twice; first before I joined the military when I lived in the Galleria/Midtown area and then my family moved back to the Metroplex after my husband and I both left military service, so having a working knowledge was very helpful!
But also I think a lot of people from outside Texas imagine Dallas from the TV show with Larry Hagman or they think of the Cowboys – what they may not realize is that the DFW Metroplex is almost 6.5 million people, Dallas is the Wall Street of the South, and it’s a major transportation hub for air, rail, and automobiles. Which means that everyone’s hustling and you can have extreme economic disparity separated by just a street so, frankly, it’s got all the ingredients for the perfect mystery.
Even When You Lie has been described as Texas noir, what does that genre mean to you?Texans loves flawed heroes, legends and lost causes.
Just look at our history – Sam Houston, Jim Bowie, Davy Crockett, William Barret Travis, Juan Seguin. We’re a state of contrasts and swagger and possibilities who appreciate a maverick, so noir is uniquely suited to the Texas psyche, with its morally ambigious characters and open endings. But Texas is also just as perfect for noir, because of the sprawl, because of the weather, because of the economic disparity and the ecological diversity.
When I think of Texas noir I can’t help but think of Joe Lansdale and Attica Locke, but I also have to put Kathleen Kent there and James Wade (who I am honored to share a hometown with), and it’s amazing to me to see my book classified with theirs.
What role(s) did you perform in the Air Force?By occupational code (AFSC or MOS, depending on branch), I was an air battle manager/air weapons officer and flew as mission crew onboard the E-3 Sentry, a Boeing 707 airframe. Most people recognize it from the movie Transformers as the airplane with a giant frisbee on its back.
The easiest way to explain my crew position is that we operate as a hybrid air controller/intelligence officer, but instead of keeping dots separated, we run them together, vectoring American assets onto targets. However, I held additional duties as the squadron executive officer and chief of the orderly room. So no one in the squadron really liked hearing from me, because it was usually to tell them they were late on performance reports, their leave wasn’t authorized (and why), or they had been randomly selected for urinalysis.
Tell us about the Texas Hill Country:I’m a Piney Woods native, so at first I was very resistant to moving here. But once you get off I-35—well, everything is better off I-35, right?
At the risk of sounding cliché with the superlatives, the scenery is breath-taking, the BBQ is top-notch, the writing community is so welcoming, the music scene can’t be topped, and I won’t even start on the wineries…although that would likely be Reagan and Cade’s favorite part.
(The bottle of red wine Reagan polishes off *might* just be Messina Hof’s Midnight Yell, but I make no promises)
What are you working on now?I’m one of those fortunate writers who is usually wrangling a few plot bunnies. Probably the one I’ve teased the most on socials lately is a Southern Gothic suspense with a romantic subplot and whole lot of Texas noir.
Final words of wisdom for aspiring writers:Write where you are.
There’s a lot of prescriptive writing advice out there, but it misses that we’re not all the same. So the most important thing to do is find what works for you and do it. Know your capabilities and limits, and execute accordingly with excellence.
Author Pet Corner!
Choji!Choji, affectionately referred to as the bestest boi on socials, is our four-year old Akita-Husky mix.
We accepted him as an emergency rehome in mid-March 2020 when he was one-year old, right as most of the country went into COVID lockdown.
As is with most rescues, he came into our lives at just the perfect time and we’re now unsure as to who rescued whom.
He can generally be found napping under my desk or guarding my office door…unless someone opens cheese, in which case he will be in the kitchen.
Michelle Cruz — Author of Even When You Lie
Michelle Cruz is a seventh-generation native Texan who served as a commissioned officer in the United States Air Force and staffed a member of Congress.
She resides with her family in the Texas Hill Country.
To learn more aboutMichelle, click on her name, photo, or any of the following links: Website, Twitter, Instagram.Elena Taylor/Elena HartwellAll We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
Header image from Pixabay
The post Even When You Lie: Debut Thriller appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
March 6, 2023
Path of Peril: Historical Mystery
Path of Peril, historical mystery by Marlie Parker Wasserman
Spotlight + Book & Author Info + GiveawayDon’t miss any book tour posts! Click the link here.
Path of Peril
Would the assassins plotting to kill Theodore Roosevelt on his visit to the Panama Canal succeed?Until this trip, no president while in office had ever traveled abroad. White House secretary Maurice Latta, thrilled to accompany the President, could not anticipate the adventures and dangers ahead.
Latta befriends watchful secret service agents, ambitious journalists, and anxious First Lady Edith Roosevelt on their hot and humid trip, where he observes a country teeming with inequalities and abounding in opportunities. Along the way he learns about his own strengths—what he never imagined he could do, and what he discovers he can’t do.
Theodore Roosevelt did visit Panama in 1906, accompanied by White House staffer Maurice Latta. Interweaving the stories of real-life characters with fictional ones, Path of Peril imagines what the newspapers feared to report and what historians never discovered about Roosevelt’s risky trip.
Genre: Historical Crime Fiction
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: January 2023
Number of Pages: 320
For forty-one years I honored my oath to President Theodore Roosevelt and his bodyguard to conceal the events of November 15th and November 17th, 1906. On each of those days I agreed to a conspiracy of silence. Last year, that bodyguard died, and TR is long dead. Before I follow them to the grave, I will disclose the perils we faced during the President’s historic trip to Panama, to clarify the record and to unburden myself.
My tale begins in the White House clerk’s office, where I served as a stenographer during the McKinley administration and where I serve now, with a higher title, fifty years later. At first, I felt no connection with the other fifteen fellows in the clerk’s office. I suppose I looked the part, with my regular features and unremarkable bearing. If my appearance fit in, my background did not. Most men working for the President, even at the turn of the century, were college boys. Some had taken the grand tour of Europe. A few had gone to universities in New England. Three, fancying themselves adventurers, had traveled to the West with President Roosevelt, that is, President Theodore Roosevelt. Two of the older gentlemen had been heroes in battles in the South during the Civil War. Most of the White House office workers had nothing to prove, to the President or to themselves.
I followed a different path to Washington. After an unmemorable youth on a Pennsylvania farm, I moved to Oklahoma, where I took my first job as a junior clerk. I filled in paperwork for the more memorable 1893 land rush. Over time my responsibilities and the commands of the head clerk grew distasteful. A friend back in Pennsylvania recommended me for a position as a clerk for a state senator in Harrisburg. I worked for that state senator for one year and two months. Forgive the precision—I like to be accurate with details. Then the legislator was elected to Congress and took me to Washington. Three years later, almost to the day, word spread across town that President William McKinley’s office needed a stenographer. By that time I had married Clara Hays Bullen and had two sons. I aimed to improve my lowly position and my meager salary.
I moved down Pennsylvania Avenue from the Capitol to the White House. My official duties, those that were known, started on August 8, 1898. Three years and one month after I started, all hell broke loose in the office. Of course I wouldn’t have used such language then. Leon Czolgosz, an anarchist, assassinated President McKinley. Like other Americans, I felt sorrowful. I had seen McKinley pass down the hall daily, but I had never been introduced to him and he never spoke to me.
My clerk’s job continued. Theodore Roosevelt became President. Little changed in the routines of our office, except now the President knew me by my first and last name. Maurice Latta. To be precise, Maurice Cooper Latta.
When the President’s Secretary, William Loeb, promoted me from Stenographic Clerk to Assistant Secretary on June 4, 1906, I hoped I might have the opportunity to travel, at least up and down the East Coast. Two months later, I heard rumors that TR wanted to assess progress on his canal. Oh, let me interrupt myself for a moment. While conducting my official capacities, I called the President President Roosevelt. Informally I called him TR. By the way, he was the first president to be known by his initials. And some called him Teddy, though I never did so. I am told his relatives called him Teedie. You will hear all these names in my tale.
This trip would be the first time a president, while in office, had ever left the United States. Many Americans thought a president should not travel to foreign soil. That seems odd to us now, after Versailles and Yalta. But in 1906 most Americans didn’t give much thought to the rest of the world, not until TR changed that.
I assumed Secretary Loeb, always interested in the press, would accompany the President to the canal. Mr. Loeb would want to shape the stories in the dailies and weeklies. Reporters called him Stonewall Loeb because of the way he controlled their access to the President. To my shock, Mr. Loeb asked me to go in his place.
Today, even after working in the executive offices of nine administrations, now for President Truman (no, I never call him Give ‘Em Hell Harry), and managing a staff of 204 clerks, my title, a rather misleading title, is only Executive Clerk. I am proud, though, that the New York Times has acknowledged my worth. Four years ago, in a Christmas day article my family framed, the reporter wrote, “The actual ‘assistant president’. . . is an official who has been in the White House since 1898 and knows more about its procedure than anyone else. He is Maurice C. Latta, now seventy-four and known as ‘Judge’ Latta to the White House staff.” In truth I know more about what is happening, and what did happen, than most of the presidents I served. That statement is for this memoir only.
I won’t dwell on my years in the White House after Panama, but rather on four days in 1906, in and around the Canal Zone. For the public, I want to add to the historical record, which is silent on certain momentous events. For me and my family, I want to remember the turning point, when I came to realize both my limitations and my strengths. I am writing the tale of what I know, what I saw myself. If you wish, you can fill in gaps with stories you gather from the others present that November, the stories I couldn’t see.
William LoebMonday, October 15, 1906“I’m tired, Maurice. I followed that wild man to Yellowstone and Yosemite three years ago. Still haven’t recovered. None of us could keep up with him.” Mr. Loeb, Secretary to the President, was talking to me about Theodore Roosevelt’s two-month long trip to the West. “Now he’s sailing to Panama. He’ll itch for another frenzied schedule. I can’t do it this time. Here’s the question. Are ready for that kind of a trip? Interested in going in my place? I’m forty, you’re thirty-six. Those four extra years make a difference, right?
William Loeb sat three feet away from my face, at his desk in the White House. When he questioned me he leaned forward, putting his square jaw one foot from my weaker jaw. What answer did he expect? Modesty? Confidence?
“You surprise me, sir. I have never traveled beyond Oklahoma. I have never sailed, and I’ve never been responsible for a presidential trip. But I have watched you. I assisted you from afar when you traveled with the President. I will be honest, it would be a big step for me. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”
Mr. Loeb sat back, slouched. I had disappointed him already.
“Sir, if you will walk me through the responsibilities, I would be honored to accompany the President.”
I will never know if Mr. Loeb truly believed I could handle the job, or if he had no one else in reserve. He shook my hand, sealing the arrangement. A day later he called me back to his office for instructions.
“Above all, Maurice, keep to the schedule. I’ll help you prepare it. We start with essential meetings. Officials of Panama and representatives from other countries. Then we fill in as needed.” Mr. Loeb was in his element, flaunting his expertise. “Second, control the access of journalists. Give priority to Frederick Palmer, he’s a favorite of Teddy’s. And I’ve been asked to add in a local journalist named Herbert de Lisser. Limit access to those two. Manage the press like I do. Third, names. Keep on you, in your pocket, the identities of the people Teddy is to meet. Whisper him reminders. He’s smart, but that makes him seem even smarter. Fourth, keep notes. You’ll need them later for Teddy’s reports. Last, prioritize telegrams. The pundits are worried that the President, abroad for the first time, won’t be in charge of the business of the country. I’ve reminded them that telegrams will reach his ship and will reach Panama. Sort through dispatches when they arrive and make sure he deals with them.”
I feared Mr. Loeb would notice my twitching right leg. Instead, he looked down and hesitated. For more than a second.
“I need to be frank with you about another matter. There could be danger. Jimmy Sloan, the Secret Service agent who heads Teddy’s protection detail, he tells me he hears rumors of anarchist plots against the President. He has people checking ships arriving in Panama, looking for suspicious travelers. May not matter. Hunting for an assassin is like finding a needle in a haystack. And there’s more. Mrs. R. is frantic. Jimmy—fine to call him Jimmy—won’t talk to her. Teddy tells him not to. She tries to get information from me and I won’t talk to her either. She’ll see you as easy prey and try you too. A word to the wise—be wary of that elegant lady. She’s lived through three assassinations and she’s no fool.”
I could think of nothing to say. I was so anxious about my coming secretarial duties that I had forgotten about the President’s safety.
“Enough of the serious stuff,” Mr. Loeb said. Get yourself new clothing for the trip. Two suits and evening wear. Can’t have you looking like a farmer.” He must have seen me widen my eyes in a question.
“No extra allowance for that. Hope your Assistant Secretary’s salary will stretch.
Edith RooseveltNovember 1906Edith Kermit Carow Roosevelt married late, at age twenty-five, pleased to be Theodore’s second wife. His first, empty-headed Alice Lee, had been prettier, but only her memory was competition. Society column reporters called Edith an elegant, good-looking woman. Even the carpers acknowledged that her sharp nose and chin didn’t mar the impression. Those reporters never called her intelligent, but she knew she was that, and Theodore knew too. At age forty-five, after five children and two miscarriages, the last just three years earlier, she remained slender and attractive.
In the White House Edith stayed busy, watching over sons Ted, Kermit, Archibald, and Quentin, her daughter Ethel, and her rambunctious stepdaughter Alice. Thank goodness Alice had just married, even if it was to Nicholas Longworth III, a bald politician, much older than Alice, with a reputation as a playboy. The wedding nine months earlier had been the social event of the season in Washington. With that extravaganza over, Edith’s burdens did not disappear, but she could begin to reorder them. The stepdaughter now moved from second place to third. Worries about Quentin, her youngest, and his mischievous antics rose to second.
Fear for Theodore remained first in Edith’s list of worries. The year before, she convinced her husband to buy a rustic house, known as Pine Knot, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. A private retreat. Almost private. Always watchful, she arranged for two Secret Service agents to protect the house every evening, without the President’s knowledge.
Sounds. They drove her crazy. The pulsating wind and the rattle of cedar shingles at Pine Knot. The scraping sounds of old window frames and squeaky plumbing at the White House. With each sound Edith heard an alarm. She had trusted Theodore’s first bodyguard, “Big Bill” Craig. In a carriage accident four years earlier Bill died and Theodore was injured. Now Jimmy Sloan oversaw protection. Jimmy was a good agent. Could even a good agent handle the task ahead? The trip to Panama would attract an international cast of cranks. Edith hoped they were cranks, not trained assassins. After each attempt on Theodore’s life, a reporter invariably mentioned the statistics. Three of the last ten presidents had been assassinated, three in about forty years, all in her lifetime. She imagined these numbers branded on her forehead.
Edith needed to identify a member of the trip’s entourage who might keep her informed about threats. Jimmy Sloan and his agents had pledged secrecy. Or they dismissed a woman’s worries. Thought her hysterical. They would be no help. And Theodore refused to acknowledge her fears, refused to listen. Thought she didn’t notice he carried a pistol in his pocket when he mingled with crowds. She would think creatively. She would curry favor with someone else on the trip, someone with knowledge. Maybe that Assistant Secretary who was taking the place of Secretary Loeb. Maurice Latta. He might know and he might share. She would keep an eye out for him aboard ship.
Marlie Parker Wasserman — Author of Path of Peril
Marlie Parker Wasserman continues to write historical crime fiction.
Her first book, The Murderess Must Die, was published in 2021.
After spending many years in New Jersey, she now lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Historical Novel Society.
To learn more about Marlie, click on any of the following links:www.MarlieWasserman.com
Goodreads
Instagram – @marliepwasserman
Twitter – @MarlieWasserman
FacebookVisit all the Stops on the Path of Peril Tour!
02/27 Review @ Urban Book Reviews
02/28 Guest post @ The Book Divas Reads
02/28 Showcase @ BOOK REVIEWS by LINDA MOORE
03/01 Review @ Novels Alive
03/02 Review @ It’s All About the Book
03/03 Showcase @ Silvers Reviews
03/04 Guest post @ Mythical Books
03/10 Review @ Cozy Up With Kathy
03/13 Showcase @ The Book Connection
03/14 Interview @ Hott Books
03/15 Review @ Novel Nerd Blog
03/16 Review @ Enjoyingbooksagain
03/17 Review @ mokwip8991
03/18 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader
03/19 Showcase @ Im Into Books
03/20 Podcast interview @ Blog Talk Radio
03/20 Review @ Just Reviews
03/22 Showcase @ 411 ON BOOKS, AUTHORS, AND PUBLISHING NEWS
All We Buried, available now in print, e-book, and audio.
Silver Falchion Award Finalist, Best Investigator
Foreword INDIE Award Finalist, Best Mystery
The Foundation of Plot, a Wait, Wait, Don’t Query (Yet!) guidebook. Amazon #1 bestseller
The post Path of Peril: Historical Mystery appeared first on The Mystery of Writing.
