Simmering the Story Stew: When Chaos Starts Making Sense.
If you’ve been following my cooking-adjacent writing saga (and I hope you have because validation feeds my soul), you know I’ve compared writing the rough draft of my new book to cooking—a chore I avoid like the plague. Seriously, I’d rather scrub grout with a toothbrush (not mine, of course). But somehow, for close to forty years, I’ve managed to feed people without poisoning them—unlike those charmingly toxic characters in my books who deserve everything that’s coming to them.
Can I get an AMEN from the choir here? I mean, who do we loathe more—The G.O.A.T from book one? The sequin-clad J. Mitchell? Or Miriam from book four? (SPOILER ALERT: she’s returning like a canker sore) And let’s not forget Jill Drake, the pearl-wearing, conniving author who finally got her comeuppance.
Now, let’s be clear: writing the rough draft is not my favorite. It’s a hot mess. And even though I enter into it with my three-ring binder full of carefully written notes and an outline that would make an English teacher cry with joy, it quickly devolves into a middle school cafeteria food fight, with ideas, characters, plot twists, one-liners, and dialogue flung at me like marinara laden pieces of spaghetti. A month later, I emerge looking like I’ve just gone ten rounds in a MMA fight and ended up on the losing side.
But then it happens—I write the last rough chapter. (Heavy emphasis on rough—I’m still tinkering with the cliffhanger, but trust me, it’s coming. Picture me cackling like the wicked queen from Sleeping Beauty here.)
After that, I do the unthinkable: I take a week off. And let me tell you, it’s torture. I’m not allowed to touch the manuscript, which feels like locking away one of the Hubster’s famous desserts with a sticky note reading, “For company only.” Really? Really?
The stew (aka the book) needs to simmer. And, yes, like every impatient cook, I struggle with this step. But it’s necessary. During this "resting period," I reintroduce myself to Elvis and the Hubster, attack the mountain of chores I’ve neglected, and arrange the hundred cryptic notes I’ve scribbled on everything from receipts to strange photographs—sometimes wondering, What exactly did this mean? I also let out the breath I’ve been holding for weeks, though it usually makes me sound like a whoopie cushion that’s been sat on one too many times.
Of course, I can’t stay away for long. Impatient cook that I am, I sneak back for a taste test to see if my “stew” is edible or if I should abandon ship and call for takeout. (Don’t judge. I’ve done it, didn’t get caught, received a compliment on the meal, and will absolutely do it again.) This is when the editing magic begins: a dash of tension here, a sprinkle of humor there, and skimming off the fat—like unnecessary subplots (which I adore but can’t always keep). I also notice the peas I’ve been avoiding—those poor characters who need love and attention but got shoved to the side like vegetables in a picky eater’s dinner. Sorry, peas.
As always, there’s a lesson in here somewhere, and this time it’s about reflection. Stepping back to simmer isn’t just important—it’s necessary. Catch your breath. Let it go, as Elsa belted out in Frozen. Sidebar - Mom, stop reading. (I recently sang, “Do you want a margarita?” in my best Elsa voice to my sister during our “family vacation,” and she snorted.
Before I sign off, I’ll give you a little teaser: this book’s got a twist that even I didn’t see coming. It had me pacing in circles so much that poor Elvis thought we were training for a doggie marathon.
But now it’s time to dive back in and taste the stew again. See you next month—hopefully, with something that’s finally ready to serve!
Hi, I’m author MJ Mac, and I want to extend a heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this month's blog. The Kennedy Reeves Mystery series is a collection of whodunits that have captured the hearts of close to 70k readers! Many say it’s the perfect blend of Murder She Wrote meets The Love Boat. With a crafted mix of eccentric characters, plot twists, “ah-ha” moments, cliffhangers, and a cruise director you can’t help but root for, it’s no wonder the series has garnered a devoted following and over 400 four-star reviews.
Can I get an AMEN from the choir here? I mean, who do we loathe more—The G.O.A.T from book one? The sequin-clad J. Mitchell? Or Miriam from book four? (SPOILER ALERT: she’s returning like a canker sore) And let’s not forget Jill Drake, the pearl-wearing, conniving author who finally got her comeuppance.
Now, let’s be clear: writing the rough draft is not my favorite. It’s a hot mess. And even though I enter into it with my three-ring binder full of carefully written notes and an outline that would make an English teacher cry with joy, it quickly devolves into a middle school cafeteria food fight, with ideas, characters, plot twists, one-liners, and dialogue flung at me like marinara laden pieces of spaghetti. A month later, I emerge looking like I’ve just gone ten rounds in a MMA fight and ended up on the losing side.
But then it happens—I write the last rough chapter. (Heavy emphasis on rough—I’m still tinkering with the cliffhanger, but trust me, it’s coming. Picture me cackling like the wicked queen from Sleeping Beauty here.)
After that, I do the unthinkable: I take a week off. And let me tell you, it’s torture. I’m not allowed to touch the manuscript, which feels like locking away one of the Hubster’s famous desserts with a sticky note reading, “For company only.” Really? Really?
The stew (aka the book) needs to simmer. And, yes, like every impatient cook, I struggle with this step. But it’s necessary. During this "resting period," I reintroduce myself to Elvis and the Hubster, attack the mountain of chores I’ve neglected, and arrange the hundred cryptic notes I’ve scribbled on everything from receipts to strange photographs—sometimes wondering, What exactly did this mean? I also let out the breath I’ve been holding for weeks, though it usually makes me sound like a whoopie cushion that’s been sat on one too many times.
Of course, I can’t stay away for long. Impatient cook that I am, I sneak back for a taste test to see if my “stew” is edible or if I should abandon ship and call for takeout. (Don’t judge. I’ve done it, didn’t get caught, received a compliment on the meal, and will absolutely do it again.) This is when the editing magic begins: a dash of tension here, a sprinkle of humor there, and skimming off the fat—like unnecessary subplots (which I adore but can’t always keep). I also notice the peas I’ve been avoiding—those poor characters who need love and attention but got shoved to the side like vegetables in a picky eater’s dinner. Sorry, peas.
As always, there’s a lesson in here somewhere, and this time it’s about reflection. Stepping back to simmer isn’t just important—it’s necessary. Catch your breath. Let it go, as Elsa belted out in Frozen. Sidebar - Mom, stop reading. (I recently sang, “Do you want a margarita?” in my best Elsa voice to my sister during our “family vacation,” and she snorted.
Before I sign off, I’ll give you a little teaser: this book’s got a twist that even I didn’t see coming. It had me pacing in circles so much that poor Elvis thought we were training for a doggie marathon.
But now it’s time to dive back in and taste the stew again. See you next month—hopefully, with something that’s finally ready to serve!
Hi, I’m author MJ Mac, and I want to extend a heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this month's blog. The Kennedy Reeves Mystery series is a collection of whodunits that have captured the hearts of close to 70k readers! Many say it’s the perfect blend of Murder She Wrote meets The Love Boat. With a crafted mix of eccentric characters, plot twists, “ah-ha” moments, cliffhangers, and a cruise director you can’t help but root for, it’s no wonder the series has garnered a devoted following and over 400 four-star reviews.
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