On Murder Most Foul and Abandoning Roots

I saw this tweet the other day, and it really resonated with me. 

Sarah Hilary (@sarah_hilary) 

Bored to death with grisly crime. Headless this and severed that *yawns* Psychological suspense is the way to go crimewriting

I have to admit, I feel the same way. I don't know when my - shall we call it squeamishness? I think we shall! - began, but it reared its head during the writing of The Immortals. And trust me, that isn't exactly a book for the squeamish. Or maybe it was after 14, which has a scene that turns my stomach. Honestly, it must have been, because Judas Kiss is a straight up murder mystery, not a serial killer book, and The Cold Room, while a serial killer book, has no blood in it. Which was a fun challenge.

I remember having this exact conversation with an author I greatly respect. I told her I was starting to get put off my lunch by my work. That the violence against women didn't work for me, that I was scaring the crap out of myself, that I was having such vicious nightmares I considered seeking help. She very adroitly pointed out that suspense could be just as intense with the threat of blowing up a mall at the heart of the story as could the threat of dismemberment.

Her words stayed with me. I knew I had one more bloodbath of a book to write, and I dove into it with all my heart. But it wasn't gross, it wasn't freaky, it was simply violent. And that was better, but not quite enough.

I followed that book with one without a murder. No one dies in Where All the Dead Lie. On purpose.

And my Samantha Owens books are straight up suspense, heavy on the mystery, with a strong dash of romance. 

I guess somewhere along the way I lost my bloodlust. Even my reading habits bore out this theory. I steered clear of the writers I knew were going to have gorefests, and went back to some of my previous favorites - historicals, romances, mysteries and psychological suspense. 

Have I abandoned my roots? Perhaps. But my writing is stronger, it's more appealing to just about everyone, and I don't cringe when I have to discuss the plots. And boy, how, have I been sleeping better.

So what about you, chickadees? Have you ever been into the freakily frightening stuff? Who's your favorite suspense writer these days? Recommendations wanted!

On Changes Afoot

You will be so proud.

Those of you who know me know I am a world-class control freak. World. Class. I am also a Taurus, which means I don't do well with change. But of late, I'm spending much too much time on the business of being a writer instead of the writing part of being a writer.

This is in part my inability to allow others to help me, a trait I've exhibited since I was a young child, one that isn't necessarily a good thing, and in part the sad reality that I started programming computers in the 7th grade, and have always been comfortable with code. You know how we all have special, idiosyncratic little talents? One of mine, probably as high up the food chain as my innate ability to spill tea on my research materials, is the bizarre ability to spot discrepancies in large chunks of seemingly indecipherable code. I probably could have gotten work with the NSA. Can't balance a checkbook or tell time, but give me a 17 digit number for my library card and I'll have it down pat after a few reads. What's worse, I know my credit card numbers. Dangerous, that.*

This isn't a strong ability, but one that drives me to Figure Things Out. As such, I tend to be able to teach myself computer stuff without a problem. Which means, of course, that I've been running my own website, newsletter, Facebook, Twitter, etc., from the beginning. It hasn't made sense to give over to someone else - in the time it would take me to compose the email asking for a change, I can just do it myself.

That's not to say I'm good at it. On the contrary, just because I can doesn't mean I should. Because it isn't my main focus, I don't necessarily know all the tricks, so it takes me ten times as long as it would an expert. Plus I'm a perfectionist. I'll do something ten times over that's probably just fine the first time.

And so. I've decided to hire an expert. Content will still come from my brain, but the techy aspects will be controlled by others.

I only have a few hives. I trust they will get better by the end of the day.

A few changes will be quickly apparent. A monthly contest will be instituted, as will a monthly newsletter. The content therein will have more of an "insider" bent than what you're currently seeing, so be sure to sign up. I've killed the Twitter feed to my personal Facebook page, I hope you understand. The two mediums are simple not congruent. But I will post the blog there, with links I think are worthwhile included.

Also, more housekeeping details: Comments have been turned back on. It came to my attention that not everyone uses Facebook and Twitter (GASP. Say it isn't so!)** and emailing me comments is a pain. You have been heard. Forgive me using Captcha, but it at least arrests some of the spammers.

And now is the time. Seize the day! If there's anything you'd like to see - changes you think need made to the site, to the blog, things I'm missing, topics you'd like me to write about, etc., leave a comment.

I'm off to immerse myself back in my research. For your reading pleasure in the meantime, please see the following blogs of writers I admire:

Laura Benedict

Deanna Raybourn

Greg Rucka

Laura Lippman

Dani Shapiro

Louise Penny

Murder She Writes

Stephen Pressfield

Gwarlingo

Doug Richardson

Jeanne Veillette Bowerman

Happy Wednesday to you all!

* Yes, all of this is probably undiagnosed Aspergers, but quirky is just a nicer term, don't you think?

** Kidding. I actually greatly admire folks who can manage without being sucked down the rabbit hole.

On Vertiginous Moments

Have you ever driven along a familiar path, lost in thought, and suddenly came back to reality not know exactly where you are? Car coma, they call it. It's like being on the Penrose stairs, going around and around and never climbing any higher. Your mind winds around itself, blocking out at the reality to allow for fertile imaginations.

I had one of these vertiginous moments Friday. They're dangerous, truth be told, because if your mind isn't on your driving, your hurtling two tons of car down the road going forty, fifty, eighty miles and hour, people can get seriously hurt. But fun, for all that.

I'm underwater at the moment, working on two major projects. One is incredibly research heavy, one is fertile imagination land. Both, though, have me in fits of distraction, as was evidenced by my getting lost on Old Hickory Boulevard, a road I travel weekly. I came to and literally had no idea where I was. It took a full thirty seconds for the familiar to reassert itself. Gives lost in thought a whole new meaning.

This spatial oddity was further compounded by a mini-plague, which created actual vertigo. Hubby had a walloping plague, two doctor visit, highly miserable week. I attended to him with all the loving kindness I could muster, and was rewarded with a cold. So it was a quiet weekend as we both finally started recovering: a couple of nice, ambling walks, loads of chicken soup, and catch-up. Sundays are my favorite, really. A nice breakfast out, some work, then catch-up on whatever needs attending to. I like to read magazines on Sunday afternoons, Architectural Digest being one of my favorites, and Elle, and of course, People. I managed to eliminate everything on my online reading list that had been building since January, and feel so much more caught up. Rode roughshod over my inbox and got it down to zero, unsubscribed from several blogs that are no longer giving me what I need, and added a whole new category to my RSS feeds - Yoga blogs. I'm anxious to see if that helps my practice solidify.

Since the big project involves more reading than writing at the moment, I'm feeling a bit at loose ends. So I may be here a bit more, just to keep my fingers engaged a few times a week.

Have a lovely Monday. Remember, I turned comments off here, so we can chat on Facebook and Twitter instead. Tell me how you're liking the new set up, if you will. Like it? Hate it?

On A Little Tease of Samantha's Next Adventure...

 

A little birdie (Thanks, Lori!) let me know that EDGE OF BLACK, the second installment in the Dr. Samantha Owens series, is up for pre-order on Barnes & Noble and Amazon. Since both pages have the back cover copy, I thought I'd go ahead and share it with you too. I do have the cover, but it's much, much too soon to debut - goodness, we're only just wrapping up the tour for A DEEPER DARKNESS. But trust me, the cover is a sight to behold. I love it. So... since I don't want to let the retailers steal all my glory... I give you Sam #2.

EDGE OF BLACK

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides 

Dr. Samantha Owens is starting over: new city, new job, new man, new life. She's trying to put some distance between herself and the devastating loss of her husband and children-but old hurts leave scars. 

Before she's even unpacked her office at Georgetown University's forensic pathology department, she's called to consult on a case that's rocked the capital and the country. An unknown pathogen released into the Washington Metro has caused nationwide panic. Three people died - just three.  

A miracle and a puzzle... 

Amid the media frenzy and Homeland Security alarm bells, Sam painstakingly dissects the lives of those three victims and makes an unsettling conclusion. This is no textbook terrorist causing mayhem with broad strokes, but an artist wielding a much finer, more pointed instrument of destruction. An assassin, whose motive is deeply personal and far from understandable. 

Xander Whitfield, a former Army Ranger and Sam's new boyfriend, knows about seeing the world in shades of gray. About feeling compelled to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. Only his disturbing kinship with a killer can lead Sam to the truth...and once more into the line of fire.

EDGE OF BLACK will be on shelves and ereaders on 12.1.2012

Available for Pre-Order Now

Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Indiebound

PS: Be careful when looking for images to compliment the term tease... Oy, my eyes...

On Dail Dinwiddie, Missing for (now) Twenty-SEVEN Years

I cannot believe it's been twenty-seven years since my friend Dail went missing. In light of some fresh press coverage, I wanted to share this with you. Please spread the word. Help us find Dail. 

On September 24, 1992, Dail Boxley Dinwiddie disappeared from Columbia, South Carolina.

It happens everyday. You hear it on the news, read it in the papers, see alerts on the highway signs. And with the advent of the 24-hour news cycle, Amber Alerts and a more responsive police force, these commonplace disappearances sometimes end with good news. I wish that could happen for Dail.

The facts of this case are cut and dried. On the evening of September 23, 1992, Dail attended a U2 concert. When the concert ended, she headed down to the Five Points area of Columbia with a few friends. They finished the evening at a bar called Jungle Jim’s. She got separated from her friends, and spoke to the bouncer at approximately 1:15 a.m. – 1:30 a.m. He remembers her leaving the bar as if she was going to walk home. She went north on Harden Street. And then she simply disappeared.

She was wearing an olive green long sleeved shirt, a blue LL Bean jacket tied around her waist, faded blue jeans and brown boots. She’s barely five feet tall and less than 100 pounds, has light brown hair and brown eyes. Her ears are pierced, and she has a crippled finger on each hand.

On every missing poster, under circumstances of disappearance, the words UNKNOWN and ENDANGERED MISSING appear. The posters, which were plastered everywhere we could get them, all over the country, read:

KIDNAPPED. $50,000 REWARD for INFORMATION LEADING TO THE ARREST AND CONVICTION OF PERSON OR PERSONS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE KIDNAPPING OF DAIL DINWIDDIE.

Despite a $50,000 reward, no credible links have been made to Dail's disappearance.

What happened to Dail? She wasn’t the type of girl to just run off. She lived at home, was taking art classes with an eye on graduate school (she majored in Art History at Randolph-Macon Woman’s College.) Her parents and close friends immediately knew something was dreadfully wrong; she just wouldn’t have not come home, not called, if she could.

Dail and I went to college together. I don’t claim to be one of her closest friends. Though RMWC is a small school, she and I didn’t cross paths until senior year. The Dail I remember was a bright, fun woman whose smile could light up a room. She had an infectious laugh. She was smart as a whip.

I remember getting that phone call – Did you hear? Dail’s gone missing. I remember how my heart sank. How I felt like there was nothing I could do. How my fervent prayers went unanswered, and slowly, over the years, Dail’s face faded from the news cycle.

I have a little bit of Dail’s case in each of my books, something of a tribute to her. She has become a number, which saddens me. She’s in the Nation’s Missing Children Organization and Center for Missing Adults (MPCCN Case File 455F90) She is part of the Doe Network (Case File 635DFSC), and The Kristen Foundation (Investigative Case Number 92-31749). She is listed in news stories, columns, even appears in Wikipedia under the heading of Missing White Girl Syndrome.

None of that is important. Finding Dail is all that matters. If you know anything, or think you know someone who might, please call the Columbia Police Department at 803-545-3525, or the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED) at 803-737-9000.

The case is open, and they’ll listen to anything you have to say.

6/10/06 UPDATE -- THE STATE, Columbia's newspaper, has a story today. New DNA found in Dail's case...

5/16/12 UPDATE -- WIS TV Did a story on Dail's disappearance. With any luck, in this new social media age, someone will come forward with actionable evidence. 

2/17/19 True Crime Files

4/1/19 UPDATE — After the Samantha Josephson murder, Dail’s story is back in the news. Fingers crossed.

This article first appeared on Murderati.com June 6, 2006