A Recipe for the Unexpected
So, here I am in month four of writing Betrayed on the Promenade, and if you’re one of the two people (yes, I’m up to two!) reading this, I need to confess something.
I follow a recipe when I write. It’s the Type A in me. I can’t help it. It’s like the lists I make to make decisions (Spoiler Alert – Kennedy does too, a lot in this book) There’s a process: write the rough draft, print it out, go through it page by page, adding ingredients like a seasoned chef, listen to it—more stirring and testing. A dash of motive here, a spoonful of snarky dialogue there. Let the chapter come to a slow boil before serving it with a cup of cliffhanger to keep readers turning the page.
And then there are the index cards. Oh, the index cards! They’re color-coded too. They make sense to no one but me, and sometimes, not even me if it was written while I was half asleep:
• NOTE: Walter needs a distinct voice pattern—research.
• NOTE: Check flights from San Juan to Nassau. Can seaplanes take off on land?
• NOTE: How many sleeping pills can you crush into bourbon to knock someone out? (Now, that one earned me a raised eyebrow from The Hubster, who now waits until I’ve gone to bed before enjoying his nightcap.)
But then there was the notecard that changed everything:
• NOTE: What are the alibis? We have the suspects. They all have great motives. Wink is a jerk, but not everyone can kill him. This isn’t the Senate floor when Caesar met his maker.
That last card stopped me cold. I had all the ingredients—motive, means, opportunity. I knew who the killer was. But then…
It didn’t hit me in a flash of brilliance. It was more like that moment before your brain cramps when you chug a margarita. Or when you’re cooking with someone, and you each add a little something to the chili, and instead of being three-alarm, the wallpaper begins to disintegrate, your eyelashes melt, and the wood trim spontaneously combusts when you remove the pot’s lid.
In that moment, my brain went from feeling like my tongue was frozen to the clothesline post (don’t go there) to a Carolina Reaper Pepper (I couldn’t even look at it in the store without feeling sweat on my upper lip). And in those thirty seconds, everything changed. I started running from room to room with my proverbial hair ablaze.
“What are you doing?” I hollered at the guest room.
“No, it’s preposterous. We know who did it,” I scoffed, pacing across the porch.
I looked at the maniacal woman in the bathroom mirror. “It will mean hours of rewrites. You have a deadline!”
“But it could be so cool,” I admitted, nibbling my lower lip as I opened the refrigerator, feeling the arctic blast on my sweating face.
Finally, I collapsed into my office chair, grabbed a pen, and scribbled another card: PLOT TWIST.
And just like that, the story shifted. That twist was a shock, a revelation, a whole emotional rollercoaster. It felt a lot like tasting dill pickle soup for the first time—completely unexpected but absolutely fantastic.
Will it blow readers’ minds? I hope so. But for now, I’m just savoring the surprise it brought to me.
Until next month!
_______________________________________________________________
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 over 60,000 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.
I appreciate your support and hope you continue to join Kennedy on her thrilling adventures! Stay tuned for more updates, and happy reading!
I follow a recipe when I write. It’s the Type A in me. I can’t help it. It’s like the lists I make to make decisions (Spoiler Alert – Kennedy does too, a lot in this book) There’s a process: write the rough draft, print it out, go through it page by page, adding ingredients like a seasoned chef, listen to it—more stirring and testing. A dash of motive here, a spoonful of snarky dialogue there. Let the chapter come to a slow boil before serving it with a cup of cliffhanger to keep readers turning the page.
And then there are the index cards. Oh, the index cards! They’re color-coded too. They make sense to no one but me, and sometimes, not even me if it was written while I was half asleep:
• NOTE: Walter needs a distinct voice pattern—research.
• NOTE: Check flights from San Juan to Nassau. Can seaplanes take off on land?
• NOTE: How many sleeping pills can you crush into bourbon to knock someone out? (Now, that one earned me a raised eyebrow from The Hubster, who now waits until I’ve gone to bed before enjoying his nightcap.)
But then there was the notecard that changed everything:
• NOTE: What are the alibis? We have the suspects. They all have great motives. Wink is a jerk, but not everyone can kill him. This isn’t the Senate floor when Caesar met his maker.
That last card stopped me cold. I had all the ingredients—motive, means, opportunity. I knew who the killer was. But then…
It didn’t hit me in a flash of brilliance. It was more like that moment before your brain cramps when you chug a margarita. Or when you’re cooking with someone, and you each add a little something to the chili, and instead of being three-alarm, the wallpaper begins to disintegrate, your eyelashes melt, and the wood trim spontaneously combusts when you remove the pot’s lid.
In that moment, my brain went from feeling like my tongue was frozen to the clothesline post (don’t go there) to a Carolina Reaper Pepper (I couldn’t even look at it in the store without feeling sweat on my upper lip). And in those thirty seconds, everything changed. I started running from room to room with my proverbial hair ablaze.
“What are you doing?” I hollered at the guest room.
“No, it’s preposterous. We know who did it,” I scoffed, pacing across the porch.
I looked at the maniacal woman in the bathroom mirror. “It will mean hours of rewrites. You have a deadline!”
“But it could be so cool,” I admitted, nibbling my lower lip as I opened the refrigerator, feeling the arctic blast on my sweating face.
Finally, I collapsed into my office chair, grabbed a pen, and scribbled another card: PLOT TWIST.
And just like that, the story shifted. That twist was a shock, a revelation, a whole emotional rollercoaster. It felt a lot like tasting dill pickle soup for the first time—completely unexpected but absolutely fantastic.
Will it blow readers’ minds? I hope so. But for now, I’m just savoring the surprise it brought to me.
Until next month!
_______________________________________________________________
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 over 60,000 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.
I appreciate your support and hope you continue to join Kennedy on her thrilling adventures! Stay tuned for more updates, and happy reading!
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