Why Do You Write Mysteries?

-
Why Do You Write Mysteries?
I get asked that question a lot, so I've thought long and hard in order to be able to come up with a good answer. Here it is.
I don't really know.
Why do you read mysteries? might be a place to start. If we can agree that we read mysteries because we enjoy having a puzzle to solve, like seeing characters tossed into unusual and often dangerous situations, and feel satisfied when everything works out in the end, then I guess the logical extension of that, at least for someone who likes to write, is attempting to create her own  mystery.
I like coming up with unique characters: a homeless woman, a dead P.I., a famous princess/queen. I like salting the plot with clues, both false and real. I like filling in details once the main story is in place and adding subplots like the relationships among sisters or the joys of growing up in a small town. I get to know my characters through a series, so my mind stops me if I try to make a woman or even a dog do something that isn't in her nature.
So why do I write mysteries? Well, it's great to have people write to tell me they enjoy them. When I opened my email this morning, there was a glowing review from a woman who'd listened to one of my books, nine hours of audio, in one day. That's a great complement to that first cup of coffee!
Mostly I write mysteries because I read them, love them, and am always looking for another good one. If I write it, that's okay too.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A First-World Issue, Funny...Maybe

-
Image
 I have really short little fingers. I mean, I know that "little finger" should alert one to the fact that it won't be much, but mine are way shorter than the others, barely passing the middle joint of Finger #4. Why is this a problem? Because my new keyboard, which is ergonomic and supposedly hand-healthy, requires a strong push to work the keys on the top row. I learned typing in a real class, where every day we set our hands on the Home Row and learned to keep them there. That means that my right-hand little finger should operate the "Back" key without much change in hand position. Sadly, it isn't up to the task, and it really slows my typing when it takes two or even three tries to erase a mistake. Will this bring about the end of Western Civilization? No. Could I buy a more compact keyboard? Probably. I just thought it was kind of funny that as the world rages and ruins around me, something so small can be so irritating .
Read more

Book Clubs Take Note: Discussion Guide: Sister Saint, Sister Sinner

-
Image
  When I sent Sister Saint, Sister Sinner to my editor, she was (as usual) helpful about pointing out areas that needed more development, parts that repeated information already given, and places where the logic  temporarily failed. At the end, she made a comment that stuck with me: "People are going to be talking about the things you deal with in this book." To me, that meant the story was destined for book clubs. Having visited a few in my years of writing, I knew that they often begin with a list of discussion topics. Now, they often don't stay focused on them, and that's okay. Sometimes it's the wine. Sometimes it's a natural progression. But discussion leaders like having questions that can get the conversation back on track when it strays too far from the story. Every person who reads a book gets something out of it that no one else does. I had the experience once of visiting a book group where one reader didn't like the book and kept bringing up her
Read more

30 Days of Christmas Day 21: IndieBrag Blog-Hop & Giveaway

-
Image
Santa & Maggie Pill Santa was trying to get ready for Christmas, but things weren’t going well, and his droll little mouth pursed in frustration. He couldn’t find the fur-trimmed hat that went with his red suit. He needed a clean hanky to wipe away the ashes and soot after each trip through a chimney. And one of his boots had gone missing. Those were things his wife usually took care of, but she was nowhere to be found. Rubbing his little round belly, he looked in the kitchen to see if she was baking. Visions of sugar-plums danced in his head, but no. She wasn’t there. Was she in the laundry room, washing tiny elf socks and underwear? Scratching his snow-white beard, the jolly old elf peered into the small room at the back of the house. Nope. She wasn’t in the den taking a long winter’s nap, nor in the pantry sorting canned goods. When he finally found her, Mrs. Claus was in the den, curled up on the couch, reading a book on her Kindle. “What’s so interesting, dear?”
Read more