Debs Wobbles Nearer to the End

DEBORAH CROMBIE: We talk a lot in writing/reading circles about panster vs. plotter, as if these two approaches to writing were entirely separate. "Panster" meaning you have no idea what a book is going to be about when you start to write, "plotter" meaning you have a structured outline for everything that's going to happen before you put a word on the page.

But I strongly suspect that for most of us, however we describe ourselves, it's much more of an evolving spectrum. I may call myself a "plotter" but that mostly means I like to have a little "basic capsule," "who-why-when-where," for the actual crime. That gives me something to contruct the rest of the story around.

Then, for example, I begin to add ideas, as in the book-in-progress, Kincaid/James #20:

"Gemma has a challenging new job at a troubled police station" +

"I don't know much about London's canals but wouldn't it be fun to set a book there/Little Venice," +

"The Thames west of London/history/houseboats," +

"Family stuff/new nanny, etc.," +

"Melody plotline," +

"Backstory plotline," +

Etc., etc.

(Houseboat moored on the Thames above Teddington Lock.)

Those were some of the initial building blocks. But those concepts don't tell me how they are all going to fit together, and especially not how my detectives are going to figure it all out by the end. From there I usually do a very rough scene-by-scene outline of a few chapters at a time. Any more than that and I know that what I thought was going to happen will have squirmed all out of shape.

Also, none of this "planning" stuff means that a new thing can't suddenly appear and whack me upside the head, which has happened over the course of the last half a dozen chapters!

My math tells me that this book is now almost 90,000 words, which means I had better figure out what happens between here and THE END. ASAP. And that means back to the outline drawing board.

And in case you're wondering where Duncan is in all this, he's very much in help and support mode, and has his own connection to the case.

Here's a little snippet I wrote earlier this week of (spoiler-free) Duncan and Gemma, in a little interlude at home.

Having finally settled the little ones, Gemma came back downstairs to find the kitchen and the sitting room dark. Puzzled, she checked the study but it was dark, too. Then a movement outside the patio French doors caught her eye. Duncan stood just on the other side, his back to the house. At first, she thought he was taking the dog out, but Geordie lay on his back on the sofa, paws in the air and the lighter fur on his belly gleaming in the dim illumination from the small lamp on the bookshelf. Tess and the cats were upstairs with the children.

Duncan must have heard her because he turned and eased the door open as she came up to it. “Shh,” he said. “Don’t let the dog out.”

Gemma slipped out to stand beside him. “Wait,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. So, she stood, barely breathing, and he slipped his fingers through hers.

A low iron railing separated their small flagged patio from the expanse of the communal garden, where its rolling grass, kept cut short, was dotted with large trees. The moon was almost full and as her eyes adjusted, the unshaded grass looked silvery against the deep, dark patches beneath the trees.

And then she saw it, movement, a flitting shape, and then another. Cats? No, their bodies were too large, she realized, the muzzles too long, the ears too big. The tails were wrong as well, too bushy for cats.

They were foxes, and they were playing, chasing one another, then rolling and tumbling in the grass, then jumping back up to start all over again.

Watching, enchanted, Gemma thought suddenly of Karo Fox’s little cottage and the array of fox prints on the sitting room’s walls. Were there foxes on Eel Pie Island, she wondered? And would they know they’d be welcomed in Karo Fox’s garden?

She gave a shiver as the cooler night air began to penetrate the thin fabric of her t-shirt and Duncan let go her hand to put his arm round her.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s leave them to it, shall we?”

Speaking of London's secretive communal gardens, here's another chance to enjoy a fictional visit!

GARDEN OF LAMENTATIONS, Kincaid/James #17, is on sale on all e-book platforms for $1.99!

In which Gemma investigates a death in an exclusive Notting Hill communal garden, while Duncan delves into wrongdoing in the highest echelons of the Met, in a case that could cost him his career, if not his life.

AND the audio version is also on sale on CHIRP for $3.99!

Dear readers, are you a planner or a pantster in real life, or do you wobble somewhere in between?

Edging Toward One Finish and Celebrating Another by Lucy Burdette

 LUCY BURDETTE: I admire writers who manage to block out an entire plot before they begin writing. I am not one of them. I have a premise at the beginning, hopefully a good one, and an idea of my characters’ directions. Then I start in. You might remember that five of us Reds have been chatting behind the scenes to share our writing progress. This has been so helpful even if it’s demoralizing when my total word count is zero. It keeps me moving forward when I might otherwise become hopelessly distracted. 

A couple of weeks ago, I told these Reds that I finally figured out why I didn’t know who had committed the murder in book 16. I didn’t know enough about the suspects to understand who would really be capable of such a crime and why. Obvious right? But it felt like a breakthrough! That’s my process. Write and then think, write and think. This book (still untitled) is due September 1. I am probably 5/7 of the way through, and quite pleased with how it’s turning out. Here’s a tiny snippet from a second attack that takes place outside a daycare. (Now that I’ve written this, I’ll need to figure out what really happened.)

The night darkness was streaked with flashing blue and red lights, from four police vehicles and an ambulance. The multicolored dancing children painted on the outside cement wall were warped into distorted and throbbing figures by the strobe lights on the cars.

A gaggle of onlookers had gathered and were being pushed back to the edge of the property by officers, one of them Danielle's husband Jeremy. I struggled out of the back seat and wove through the crowd to get closer to him.

“Jeremy,” I hissed, waving him toward me. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He rolled his eyes as if to say I surely knew better but moved over to speak to me anyway. “From what I can tell, one of the employees from Toddlers and Tots was shot.” He pointed to a still form on the front lawn, covered with a foil blanket and surrounded by rescue workers. Several of them had dropped to their knees to tend to the victim. Police officers were interviewing a woman near the entrance to the building. “That’s Alice Mayhill, the owner. She called it in, after she heard noises in the yard, then what she believed to be a gunshot. She lives upstairs.”

“Have any suspects been apprehended?” asked Damian, who was now standing behind me. He placed a protective hand on my shoulder.

“None so far,” said Jeremy. One of the other officers began yelling for him. “Gotta go.”

“Miss Gloria probably knows more about this from listening to her police scanner than Jeremy does standing right in the thick of things,” I muttered.

Meanwhile, I’m working to set up promotion for THE MANGO MURDERS, arriving in bookstores near you on August 12. There will be a grand book launch at RJ Julia‘s in Madison CT on August 12 at 6:30 with cake, wine, and door prizes. This book party is kind of special because it celebrates novel number 25! 

I still remember my very first book event for SIX STROKES UNDER back in 2002. I told everyone I knew about it. We had so many people sign up that it had to be moved from the bookstore to the library. 

I certainly had no idea where the writing journey would take me, but 

I’m so glad to be here with all of you. 

What turn or outcome in your life has surprised you?

Rhys loves giving herself a challenge.

 RHYS BOWEN: Well, dear Reddies, I am about to send my latest book off to the publisher. It's called (at the moment. Who knows what marketing will finally want it called) FROM SEA TO SKYE. I think I've told you about it before. Set in the 1960s, and 1930s and early 1900s.. a young writer is hired to help an elderly writer with dementia finish her last novel.

The challenge has been to give the reader what the elderly writer has written so far, so that the young writer can go to Skye and find clues to what really happened there. Which meant I had to write a novel in a style that is no only not my own, but is also not the usual style of this writer!  Yes, I must be a glutton for punishment.

But I hope I've carried it off:

Here's how the manuscript starts:

But the writer didn't always write like this. Here is a paragraph in her usual style:

When John was reading my manuscript, as he always does, he wanted to change the wording in one of these chapters.

"You can't do that," I said. "I didn't write it."

"Who did?" He looked confused.

"Iris Blackburn. It's her book. The phrasing has to be hers," I said 

"Who is Iris Blackburn?" He was more confused now.

"The writer of The Wild Girl.  Okay, it's me, but I'm writing as Iris Blackburn"

I don't think he has completely understood this yet.

Anyway, it's done and heading for my publisher and I'll be taking a well-earned rest! I really enjoyed revisiting the island of Skye vicariously. It's been years since I was in Scotland but I still have keen memories.

Have you enjoyed reading a book within a book? One of my favorite books ever was Possession by A S Byatt. The true story is revealed through two lots of poetry, both brilliantly constructed with the feel of Tennyson and Rosetti. I don't claim that mine is anywhere as good but it is a good story with a lovely twist at the end.

And I hope you don't mind if I finish with a small plug for my upcoming book, MRS ENDICOTT'S SPLENDID ADVENTURE.  I've been thrilled to see it included in lists of the best books for the second half of the year, the best upcoming historicals etc. It comes out August 5 and I am doing lots of Zoom interviews, podcasts etc. I'll keep you up to date on those.

A Sneak Peek! at ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: First, two bits of breaking news! 

First, my new book, ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS, a just got a rave starred review from Library Journal! How fantastic is that? It says:

“Ryan nails the feel and pace of life as an author, and creates a love letter to booksellers and librarians amid the suspense and twists. Ryan has written her best book to date, which should be on everyone’s reading list."

So that’s good, huh? I can tell you I am totally and utterly thrilled. Whoo hoo.

The next breaking news: there’s a Goodreads giveaway for ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS all right now! And here is the link.

Make sure you enter! It’s such an easy way to win an advance review copy of this book. Crossing fingers you win.  (And all good reviews are joyfully welcomed.)

I am so thrilled about this book.

It's the story of debut Author Tessa Calloway, whose first novel becomes a surprise bestseller – – and she is sent on a glamorous coast-to-coast book tour. Problem is, it soon becomes clear that someone is not only trying to ruin that career, but also destroy her beloved family back home. 

What makes it even worse, Tessa fears it is all her fault – – her current danger the result of a Faustian bargain she made long ago. 

And now,  a big-time book tour becomes a deadly cross-country cat and mouse chase. And the author must run for her life. 

It’s also super meta! As you can imagine. And when the time comes, I’ll tell you where the idea came from. But any author on book tour or any reader who’s ever attended a book event will recognize the insidious reality— authors on tour are incredibly vulnerable.

Here is a tiny snippet from an early chapter  of the book – – an exhausted Tessa, returning to her hotel room, gets a call from her husband Henry.

The long hotel corridor stretched out in front of her, jewel-toned paisley carpeting in some only-in-hotels pattern, lily-shaped sconces casting a dim glow onto the row of numbered doors.

She found hers, 3016, and patted her pockets for her room key card. She tapped the card against the metal square. The light blinked insolently red.

She tried the card’s other side. Red.

“Kidding me?” She tried again. Red. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

“Tessa?” Henry. Finally.

“Hey, honey. Hang on. My key card isn’t working,” she interrupted his greeting.

“Did you put it against your phone again?”

“No. I didn’t.” Though possibly she had. “Sometimes they’re cranky. So about Linny—”

“How’d it go tonight? They loved you, right? Tessa Calloway, instant best-selling author. Inspirer of women. Bringer of power. The darling of social media. Hang on, Tesser,” Henry said. “I think I heard something. A sound. I’ll call you back in ten minutes. Fix your key.”

“What’s wrong? What sound? Is it Linny?” The kids. Henry. Their brand-new house. But there was only the flat white noise of nothing. He’d hung up.

Footsteps behind her. A man carrying a grease-spotted paper bag from Panera glanced at her as he walked by; he seemed to be taking in her face, her whisper, her bag, her suitcase, her phone call. She smiled at him, the wan acknowledgement of a fellow traveler, telegraphing all good, nothing to see here, waiting for my husband to check on a strange sound in our new house.

The man paused, assessed her again, opened his door. At least Panera Guy had a key that worked.

It’d be easy for someone like him to pretend to be a registered guest, the thought crossed her mind. While, in reality, be lurking, scouting, targeting. Using the built-in anonymity and accepted proximity as cover. As disguise.

But that was her writer-mind at work. These days, with a deadline for an unwritten second book looming, everything became a potential plot element.

She examined her card again, front and back, trying to discover what was wrong.

Oh.

She patted the pockets of her new book-tour trench coat; knee-length, black, suitable for airplane, rain, and substitute bathrobe. In the right-side pocket, her fingers closed over another hard plastic rectangle. She’d been using a key card from her previous hotel.

“Idiot,” she whispered.

She tapped, and her keypad light went green. She opened the door, then paused. Looked, ridiculously, for Panera Guy.

But the corridor was silent, empty, only an anonymous row of identical closed doors. She deadbolted her own door. Chained it.

She was Tessa Calloway now, and safe.

 

I will be on tour for this book starting in September, and cannot wait to see you all! We are announcing the tour stops very soon, and of course you will be the first to hear.

Readers, have you ever been to an event on an author's book tour? What was your experience?  Authors, are book tours a treat for you? Or a test of your endurance?

(And here is that Goodreads Giveaway link again!)

Hallie on writing setting from her mind's eye

HALLIE EPHRON: One of the pitfalls of being me is that people assume that I know something about writing screenplays. Let me assure you (as I do them), I do not. 

My parents were screenwriters. My sisters, too. But my favorite things to write are setting and internal dialogue (narrator's thoughts)... none of which show up in a screenplay. In a screenplay it's mostly dialogue and (brief) suggestions on the staging and character affect.  

I love to write setting in combination with internal dialogue, neither of which show up much in a screenplay.

Moving the reader through the setting with the characters usually requires research. The writers has go GO somewhere and take notes, record sounds, take pictures, talking to locals. Research, if it's an historical setting. A ton of world building if it's fantasy.

But there's a special pleasure (and ease) writing a story that is set in in A PLACE FROM YOUR OWN PAST.  Possibly a place that no longer exists the way it was then.

I did this In "Night Night, Sleep Tight" which takes place Beverly Hills in the early 60's when I was growing up there. The THERE/there no longer exists except in my memory, so that's where I went to find the details I needed.

In one of the opening chapters, Deirdre reluctantly driving back to her childhood home to deal with her wayward father. Along the way she's flooded with memories, just as I was writing this since I'd taken that drive (decades ago) a gajillion times: Sunset Boulevard, from the San Diego Freeway to Beverly Hills. 

I remember every curve. Every stoplight...
**

Deirdre crossed into the left lane and accelerated. Power surged and her Mercedes SL automatically downshifted and shot forward, hugging the road as she pushed it around a bend. She braked into the curves and accelerated coming out, weaving between cars on the winding four-lane road. 

Forty, forty-five, fifty. The end of her crutch slid across the passenger seat, the cuff banging against the door.

The car drifted into the right lane coming around a tight curve and she had to slam on the brakes behind a red bus that straddled both lanes and poked along at twenty miles an hour, idling just outside walled estates. STARLINE TOURS was painted in slanting white script across the back.

Deirdre tapped the horn and crept along behind the bus, past pink stucco walls that surrounded the estate where Jayne Mansfield had supposedly once lived. 

It had been a big deal when the actress died, had to have been at least twenty years ago. And still tourists lined up to gawp at her wall. Breasts the size of watermelons and death in a grisly car accident (early news reports spawned the myth that she’d been decapitated)—those were achievements that merited lasting celebrity in Hollywood. 

That, or kill someone. 

It was the same old, same old, real talent ripening into stardom and then festering into notoriety. Deirdre sympathized with Jayne Mansfield’s children, though, who must have gone through their lives enduring the ghoulish curiosity of strangers.

Buses like the one belching exhaust in front of her now used to pull up in front of her own parents’ house, passengers glued to the windows. Most writers, unless they married Jayne Mansfield, did not merit stars on celebrity road maps. And in the flats between Sunset and Santa Monica where her father lived, notables were TV (not movie) actors, writers (not producers), and agents, all tucked in like plump raisins among the nouveau riche noncelebrity types who’d moved to Beverly Hills, so they’d say, because of the public schools. 

You had to live north of Sunset to score neighbors like Katharine Hepburn or Gregory Peck. Move up even farther, into the canyons to an ultramodern, super-expensive home to find neighbors like Frank Sinatra and Fred Astaire.

Arthur Unger had earned his spot on the celebrity bus tour through an act of bravery that had lasted all of thirty seconds. It had been at a poolside party to celebrate the end of filming of Dark Waters, an action-packed saga with a plot recycled from an early Errol Flynn movie. 

Fox Pearson, the up-and-coming actor featured in the film, either jumped, fell, or was pushed into the pool. Sadly for him, no one noticed as the cast on the broken leg he’d suffered a week earlier doing his own stunts in the movie’s finale dragged him to the bottom of the deep end. Might as well have gone in with his foot stuck in a bucket of concrete.

A paparazzo had been on hand to immortalize Arthur shucking his shoes and jacket and diving in. Fox Pearson’s final stunt, along with its fortuitous synchronicity with the movie’s title, earned more headlines for the dead actor than any of his roles. Suddenly he was the second coming (and going) of James Dean, a talent that blazed bright and then . . . cue slow drum roll against a setting sun . . . sank below a watery horizon.

(Yes, I really did used to sit in our front window and wave at the tour busses.)

I have no idea how you'd write this as a screenplay. There's not a single line of dialogue, precious little action, and a ton of setting and internal dialogue. 

Flashbacks? Voice over?? Beats me.

Are there mental journeys that you can take with details of places that are long gone but still vivid in your mind's eye? To the corner store? To the drive-in movie, local dive bar, swimming hole, lover's lane, fabulous view???

Mulitple Points of View by Jenn McKinlay

First, we have a contest winner! Gail Donovan chose Gillian B as the winner of her book, Sparrow Always. Congrats, Gillian!!! You can contact Julia at juliaspencerfleming at gmail dot com to connect with Gail!!!

JENN McKINLAY: I recently did a summer reading event at the Poisoned Pen Bookstore with the fabulous authors Christina Estes and Allison Brennan. We talked about our upcoming books (naturally) but also what we're reading. You can watch the chat here:

Poisoned Pen Summer Reading Reccomendations

During the Q&A portion following our chat, a male reader asked how we felt about multiple points of view (not one or two but MULTIPLE) in novels. Did we use them? How did we manage it? And while Allison, is currently writing a book with something like nine points of view, I don't think I've ever attempted more than two. But the conversation did get me wondering if I could write more than one or two and how would that look. I have no idea. I'm still wrapping my head around it.

So I turn to you, Reds, to ask what’s the most POVs you’ve ever written? How did you manage it? And do you enjoy multiple POV as a reader?

HALLIE EPHRON: the most I’ve done is 2 viewpoints. And not until I was several books in and felt confident managing one. 

I’m reading a book now with 5 viewpoints and multiple timelines and nearly gave up several times when it felt as if I had to take notes to keep the characters and events straight. Make it hard to follow the narrative and you risk losing readers.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I love love love multiple POVs (when they work) and “when they work” means I have no trouble keeping track of the people or the situation AND that they propel the story forward instead of slowing it down. I love the dramatic irony it provides when the reader knows something the character doesn't.

Two seems logical for me, and many of my books have two. (Not the current one though, or the new one. Or the one after that. Hmmm.)

I think multiple PV in multiple timelines is a juggle only for the most proficient. (The Time Traveler's Daughter, yikes, but SO good!) 

Bottom line, I'm realizing that if the author can pull it off, it can be terrific. Interesting that on TV or in movies, it’s usually no problem. Because we can see the character and the setting, and don't have to imagine it or figure it out. 

I’m starting a book now that has five. We shall see.

RHYS BOWEN: I quite enjoy both reading and writing multiple points of view. In Farleigh Field had 5 I believe. But as Hank says it has to be done well or it’s jarring to be snatched back and forth, or, worse still, not know which time period we are in ( I’ve read a few of those)

LUCY BURDETTE: Most of my books have been in first person with one point of view. My break from that came with the suspense standalone, UNSAFE HAVEN. In that book I used three POV in third person, with occasional short chapters from the bad guy. (My agent hated those chapters so I cut them down!) It’s funny to me that I had to go back and browse through the book to remember what I did. 

I don’t like the whiplash of being jerked around from character to character if the writing isn’t done well, but it can surely be effective. I’m reading HEARTWOOD by Amity Gaige right now–it has several POV written in different ways, plus some press releases and diary entries. It took a few chapters to get into it, and I strongly prefer one of the characters, but it’s quite gripping. Have you all read this one?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I’ve always used multiple viewpoints, and I’d pull my hair out if I had to look back through in all my books and count them. Suffice to say, I think the book-in-progress has eight so far. Of course, Gemma and Duncan are the main POVs, but I love using multiples to show the readers the things that they can’t see. And to develop the other primary characters, like Kit, Melody, and Doug.

Oops, I just thought of two I left out, so make that ten viewpoints! I hope they won’t be too hard for the reader to follow.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Count me in on the multiple POV side! I only used two for my debut novel - the hero and heroine - but I quickly got hooked on the storytelling delights of switching narrators. Since Debs and I compared ourselves last week when talking about branding, let me continue the comparison. 

We both write about communities with many members the readers have come to know and love, and our mysteries usually involve a relatively wide geographic area, with lots of different sorts of people who have specialized knowledge. In Debs’ case, it might be a pub keeper, in mine a worker at a dairy parlor. This is exactly the sort of fiction that calls for multiple POVs. Which means when you have ten or eight narrating characters, it seems natural, and not a gimmick the author is using to create suspense.

How about you, Readers? Do you enjoy MULTIPLE points of view when you read or not so much?

I'm in a pickle...I hope!

 JENN McKINLAY: Anyone who follows me on the socials knows that this year I decided to lean all the way into gardening trowel first. Usually, I have flower pots and a sunflower patch, containers of tomatoes and peppers, and a seasonal herb garden, but this year, I went a little overboard. We now have two raised beds with sunshades and plans for two more. Mornings are spent in my pajamas, drinking my coffee and talking to my crops. 

It has been a bountiful year for zucchini, cherry tomatoes, and shishito peppers, while the eggplant and pole beans quit on me. Now it seems it's the cucumbers time to shine and I am pretty thrilled as I love me a good pickle. Of course, I've never made pickles before so I'm also a tad nervous. This is where anyone who reads this is successful with pickles give me advice in the comments!

Of course while contemplating my future pickles, I went full librarian and had to do some research on facts about pickles because...the more you know. So, here are some little tidbits that I thought I'd share.

• Pickles have been around since ancient times. Some believe the first pickle was created in Mesopotamia in 2400 B.C.E. Others believe it was as early as 2030 B.C.E.
• Ancient Egyptian queen Cleopatra claimed pickles made her beautiful (although, there is some pushback on the accuracy of this tidbit).
• When the Philadelphia Eagles thrashed the Dallas Cowboys in the brutal heat of September 2000, the players attributed their win to one thing: guzzling down immense quantities of ice-cold pickle juice.
• The phrase “in a pickle” was first introduced by Shakespeare in his play, The Tempest. The quotes read, “How cam’st thou in this pickle?” and “I have been in such a pickle.”
• Sweet pickles are made by soaking dill pickles in strong Kool-Aid and are very popular in parts of Mississippi.
• You can hear the crunch of a good pickle at 10 paces.
• In Connecticut in order for a pickle to officially be considered a pickle, it must bounce. (I'm from CT and I did not know this).
• The majority of pickle factories in America ferment their pickles in outdoor vats without lids leaving them subject to insects and bird droppings! But there’s a reason. According to food scientists, the sun’s direct rays prevent yeast and molds from growing in the brine. (I don't think I needed to know this).
• Pickling vegetables not only improves their flavor, it can also make them more nutritious and easier to digest. During fermentation, bacteria produce vitamins as they digest vegetable matter.
• The Department of Agriculture estimates that the average American eats 8.5 lbs of pickles a year. (I fear I might be consuming more than my share--no regrets!).

For more info, check out:

https://www.history.com/articles/pickles-history-timeline

So, Reds and Readers, who are the pickle fans among us? What's your favorite type of pickle?

Research 101: a.k.a. Learning to Kill (on paper!) by Allison Brennan

Jenn McKinlay: Last week I had the very good fortune to sign books at the Poisoned Pen Bookstore with the extremely talented Allison Brennan. Of course, I asked her to visit us and she very graciously agreed. So here she is to talk about the warm and fuzzy topic of writing what we know or rather what we don't know.

BUY NOW!

Allison Brennan: Later this year, I’m presenting a workshop titled How Can I Write What I Know When I Haven’t Killed a Man?

It’s a fair question. Especially when writers are constantly told: “Write what you know.”

Well, if I only wrote what I knew? My books would be mind-numbingly dull. I’m a mom. A daughter. A wife. You know—like millions of women. I once worked in the California State Legislature, which sounds more exciting than it was. (Spoiler: it wasn’t.) I went to a college prep high school, dropped out of college after two years, and my first job was at a bookstore, where I had to prove I could alphabetize and make change. I've also been a bartender, admin, hostess, a waitress for roughly two minutes (I was terrible), and spent a summer at Marine World learning how carnival games work—yet still couldn’t win a single one.

 The truth is: if you're writing crime, thrillers, or suspense, you cannot rely on television for research. Just because a fictional FBI agent tracks a suspect cross-country doesn’t mean the real FBI lets agents hopscotch around the country like Jason Bourne on a road trip. (Yes, I made that mistake once.)

 Some authors do write from specialized experience—doctors writing about doctors, veterans writing military thrillers. It adds a layer of authenticity that’s hard to fake. Tess Gerritsen made Maura Isles come alive with her medical background. John Grisham nails courtroom drama. Tom Clancy practically was a submarine. And Jack Carr? Real-deal Navy SEAL turned bestselling author.

 But here’s the thing: Tess had never been a cop, and she still gave us Jane Rizzoli. Lisa Gardner has never been a man, but writes in the male POV quite well. And I’m reasonably certain Gregg Hurwitz has never moonlighted as a government assassin. (But if he has...I take it back. Great job. Very convincing.)

 So no, I’ve never killed a man. But I have a vivid imagination. And if I can picture it? I can write it.

 And I’ve pictured some very fun, er, interesting, um, diabolical … well, let’s just say my husband definitely doesn’t want to get on my bad side,

 Let me introduce you to my best friend: The Book of Poisons. That book has helped me off more characters than I care to count.

 Back when I was writing my second novel—my debut wasn’t even published yet—I needed to figure out how to sabotage a car so it would break down after only a few miles of driving. This was before Google answered all of life’s weirdest questions. So I called mechanics in my town.

 “Hi, I’m Allison Brennan. I’m writing a novel. What could I put in a car’s gas tank to make it stall a few miles down the road?”

 Shockingly, no one answered my question. Instead, they hung up. I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t call the cops.

 Desperate, I brought it up at my niece’s baptism (as one does), and my brother-in-law said, “Hey, my buddy’s a mechanic. Let me grab him.”

 Five minutes later, I’m pitching this mechanic my scene, explaining that sugar doesn’t quite work unless the gas is low. He nods and says, “You want to clog the fuel filter. That’ll do it.”

 We brainstorm. He suggests molasses—heavy, slow, perfect for settling at the bottom of the tank and causing problems right on cue. Boom. Sabotaged car. Kidnapping scene secured.

 Perfect.

 Since then, I’ve:

 * Observed an autopsy.

* Played both hostage and bad guy during FBI SWAT training.

* Toured Quantico.

* Done countless ride-alongs.

* Interviewed experts about everything from blood spatter to bomb tech.

 All to make my stories more authentic—even if I’m still making stuff up for a living.

 My latest book, Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds, is my 49th novel. It’s a little lighter than my usual thrillers (read: fewer corpses, no blood), but the research was still essential—especially since I’d never been to the Caribbean.

 In the first draft, I had my characters taking a hot air balloon ride. Very romantic. Except... there are no hot air balloons on Caribbean islands. At all. I researched how they work, and realized there’s a very good, very scientific reason they’re not floating around out there. I’ve since forgotten what it is—but the balloons had to go.

 Then there’s the fictional island of St. Claire, where my protagonist Mia Crawford is sent on a mandatory vacation. I made a rough map to help with continuity. Then midway through the book, I hit a problem: a scene required Mia to hike from point A to point B, but there was no path. I panicked. My entire mountain-trekking sequence was ruined.

 Until I remembered: St. Claire isn’t real. I made it up. I can put a path anywhere I want.

 Waterfall too far north? Slide it south. Boom. Problem solved. Magic of fiction.

 Now, I have made mistakes. Some on purpose, for the sake of the story. Others? Honest goofs. Like the nurse who emailed me to say she threw my book across the room because I miscalculated a Valium dose by about... 500%. Whoops.

 The thing is, we don’t know what we don’t know. That’s why research matters. But I try not to let my research show. It should be invisible. Seamless. If readers are too busy noticing my fun and clever facts, they’re not fully immersed in my story.

 My rule of thumb? Willing suspension of disbelief.

 If the characters are compelling and the story is gripping, readers will go along for the ride—even if a detail is a little off.

 That said… if I were to plan a murder, I’d want to do it right.

 I mean, I’d want my characters to get away with it. Definitely just my characters. Wink wink. (Ha! Just kidding! In case the NSA or someone is reading this …)

So tell me: Do you appreciate when authors get the research right? And are you willing to overlook a few missteps if the story's too good to put down?

 

Allison Brennan is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author best known for her Quinn & Costa FBI thrillers and the Lucy Kincaid series. She lives in Arizona with her family and assorted pets. Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds is her 49th novel.