Confession

I have a confession to make.  I have recently published a murder mystery, “Solomon’s Dream – The Hunting at Huntington” about a duo killing retirement aged tourists in Washington D.C. and the first victims in the book are none other than….my parents.

Yes, I killed off my parents in my book.

I love my parents, but a few years ago I took them to Washington D.C. and I watched on the subways how my mother would interact with passengers.  She is very personable. Making eye contact with fellow passengers.  Starting up conversations with small kids.  I watched how she could sit on a train of strangers yet feel comfortable to give a kind word.  Once again, I love my mother, but in the book, the killers prey upon kind people.

I actually wrote the chapter of their deaths a few hours after returning home from our vacation.  After a week with them, I had some good insight on how a murderer would seek them out.  It really was a good vacation and I never wanted to kill my parents during this trip contrary to popular thought.  Some would say that idea is creepy, but I think they should feel privileged they are in my book.

So, I love you mom, I am sorry that I killed you off, but thank you for being the inspiration of “The Hunting at Huntington.”  (This was the exact subway station we went to everyday to catch our train from Alexandria, Virginia to Washington D.C.)

Peace friends