Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Time Travel Through Memory’s Imaginary Paths, or How the Brain Edits Your Past

By Andi Kopek

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Have you ever caught yourself remembering something that never happened?

I currently, while writing my debut novel, am also working on my second one—meaning I’m collecting information, doing research, scouting locations, and interviewing family members. The novel will be loosely based on my family history and will span over 300 years, starting (if arranged chronologically) in 1821 and ending in 2160. One might call it historical science fiction.

While gathering family stories, I recalled events from my early childhood—or, to be precise, discovered that my recollections did not match the memories of my family’s elders. Without needing to go into the details of the events at this time, that realization prompted me to reflect on what we actually remember.

Our brains, those tireless editors, can’t resist revising the past. Each time we recall an event, we open the file, tweak a line, shift the tone, and hit save again—sometimes without realizing the edits we’ve made. Neuroscientists call this reconsolidation: memory not as a photograph but as a living document, rewritten every time we look. We don’t remember the original event; we remember the last time we remembered it.

Writers, of course, do it professionally. We time-travel through memory like reckless tourists—freely changing dialogue, repainting the sky, swapping characters. We think we’re preserving the past, but really, we’re composing it. The story of our lives is less a memoir than a series of ongoing drafts—each one a little truer to how we feel, and a little farther from what actually happened.

We like to think of memory as an archive—a room full of drawers neatly labeled childhood, college, that one heartbreak we swear we’re over. But the mind doesn’t keep good filing cabinets. Recalling the past is more like being half archaeology, half alchemy. While a restless archaeologist meticulously brushes the dust from fossilized fragments, an alchemist whispers spells over them, turning stone into gold—or gold back into stone.

Some of you, particularly readers of Killer Nashville Magazine and attendees of our annual conference, may have experienced this firsthand in court. When witnesses are called to testify, they believe they’re replaying an exact recording of what happened. But decades of research—especially by cognitive psychologist Elizabeth Loftus—show otherwise. A witness doesn’t press play; they reconstruct the scene, influenced by the questions asked, the room’s tension, even the faces watching them. Every courtroom becomes a theater of memory—actors, in good faith, improvise a scene while being convinced that the scene has been already written. The result isn’t false. It’s just… rewritten. Imagine a writer as a witness—the two-sided power of good storytelling.

Memory’s gaps, forgetting’s loopholes, and the brain’s determination to improvise its own facts are irresistible tools for any thriller or detective writer. Imagine the plot twists, red herrings, and narrative whiplash this flawed instrument of the mind can offer.

So, what’s real? What’s real in the past? Perhaps that’s why the epigraph of my next novel will include a quiet confession: based on the reality of my imagination. Because really, what else could memory be? Every time we recall, we revise. Every time we revise, we fold the past into the present tense. We don’t travel back in time—we reassemble it from the pieces still within reach. In other words, our memories are the latest translation of the remembered past.

One might even say, particularly a therapist, that our imperfect memories are a blessing—a kind of survival kit. If memory were permanent, perfectly accurate, there’d be no forgiveness, no growth, no moving on—only haunted houses. The edits save us, whether we like it or not. The new drafts keep us alive. Forgetting, sometimes, is better than remembering. And our minds, generous cartographers, fill in the blank spaces when the map tears in two.

So the next time you find yourself remembering something that never happened, don’t get upset. Step inside it. Wander through its corridors. You’re not lying to yourself—you’re time-traveling through the only past that still breathes: the one your imagination keeps seeing and revising.

Andi

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his monthly art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

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This Crazy Writing Life: AI And Indie Pubbing—Is This The End Of The World As We Know It?

By Steven Womack

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Want to read a book that’ll scare the bejeezus out of you? Grab a copy of If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies—Why Superhuman AI Would Kill Us All. The authors—Eliezer Yudkowsky and Nate Soares—have studied artificial intelligence for decades and have reached the conclusion that if we keep going the way we’re going, AI will soon be smarter than we are. The next step is for it to become sentient and when AI is able to perceive, feel, and outsmart us, it will ultimately get into conflict with all us mere humans.

Then guess what? We’re toast…

Is that the way this is all going to play out? Who knows? As Yogi Berra once said: “It’s tough to make predictions, especially about the future.”

One thing I do know is that the whole AI thing is taking up more and more of our bandwidth each day. Major corporations are laying off tens of thousands of workers and replacing them with AI. From driver-less taxis to robotic Door Dash deliveries and fast food cooks, AI seems to be on everybody’s mind. Try calling a large corporation, hospital, or customer service center, hoping to reach a human. It’s harder than ever.

It’s no different in the publishing world, especially in the indie-pub space.

I’ve been lucky in that I’ve been able to attend the last four Novelists Inc. annual conferences. At each one of those conferences, the issue of AI in indie-pubbing—especially AI-narrated audiobooks—has been front-and-center. Is AI going to put human audiobook narrators out of business? Do we need a new army of Luddites smashing the machines to protect the paychecks and lifelines of the modern-day equivalent of textile workers.

Again, I’ve given up prognosticating. I’m usually wrong anyway.

But I can make some observations, and you can draw your own conclusions from them. Let’s start with AI-narrated audiobooks.

First, a brief history. In 1976, Ray Kurzweil unveiled the Kurzweil Reading Machine, the first modern text-to-speech synthesizer. He originally envisioned the machine as a way for blind people to have access to text (Stevie Wonder bought the first one). By 1988, the Apple Macintosh had an effective TTS (text-to-speech) capability, and development has continued to this day.

By far, the that biggest hurdle to creating audiobooks—especially for indie authors—is the production cost. Costs vary widely, depending on a number of factors, but professional audiobook narrators with credits typically charge from $100-300 or more per finished hour. Studio rental, editing, and mastering the files can add significantly to the cost.

For audiobook producers who choose to have multiple narrators, sound effects, etc., costs can double or even triple.

Not only are the costs out-of-reach for many indie authors, the ROI is often simply not there. A ten-book series by an indie author can easily cost $35-50K to produce and publish. Obviously, in a competitive marketplace where discoverability is also an issue, one must sell an enormous number of audiobooks just to make back the production costs.

The evolution of digitally narrated audiobooks has rocketed into high gear in the past few years. In March 2021, Hume AI began developing AI platforms that analyzed vocal inflections and facial expressions that better gauged human emotional states and could create more human-sounding voices (and AI characters).

In 2022, a machine learning engineer and an ex-Palantir deployment strategist—both from Poland—created ElevenLabs, motivated by what they felt were American films badly dubbed into Polish. In January 2023, ElevenLabs’s beta platform went public. Since then, a number of versions have been developed and deployed.

Today, ElevenLabs is leading the charge on realistic digital voice narration for audiobooks. They have a library of hundreds of voice samples. You can even create an ElevenLabs account and upload of sample of your own voice. It goes in the library and if someone likes your voice, they can choose you. Only you won’t actually narrate the book. ElevenLabs will synthesize your voice based on the sample and narrate the whole book and you’ll get a small licensing fee.

In November, 2023, Amazon rolled out an invitation-only KDP Beta test for digitally narrated audiobooks. Early results were considered by many to be problematic. The only appealing thing about it was that it was actually free (but you could only sell your audiobook on Amazon).

At this year’s NINC conference, I had the chance to sit in on a panel presented by Dr. Phil Marshall, the founder and CEO of a company called Spoken, which is the latest contender in the digital narration sphere. Marshall—who’s an M.D. and a surgeon who left the field of medicine to pursue a career in AI development— founded Spoken two years ago, a company whose mission is to make the most realistic and effective AI-narration available to authors at a reasonable cost.

“Listening is the new reading,” he explained. “Half of all Americans listen to spoken word media every day.”

Marshall then demonstrated the Spoken platform, which works on multiple levels. Authors can choose totally digital narrator voices, or they can use voices of real actors, whose voice samples are then synthesized and replicated by the AI platform to speak the text in the audiobook.

He emphasized the editing capabilities of the platform, which enables authors to manipulate voices at a single-line level. If an author doesn’t like the inflection or pacing of a delivered line of dialogue, for example, he or she can go so far as to record the line the way it should be delivered. The Spoken app then analyzes the author’s reading of the line and regurgitates it in the digital voice.

Marshall then outlined his company’s strategic partnership with ElevenLabs and Hume AI, in which authors using the Spoken platform can have access to literally hundreds (if not thousands by now) of voices available on those platforms.

This flexibility, combined with the pricing structure, even makes multi-voiced cast recordings accessible and affordable. In Marshall’s view, he noted, this represents one of the greatest opportunities for indie audiobook producers. He demonstrated a project he’s working on now—his own novel Taming the Perilous Skies—which will contain over 100 voices.

Spoken’s pricing structure offers two different options. Authors can work on a per project basis, which offers an unlimited number of voices, custom voices, full access to the Spoken studio, project download, and audio mastering at a price of $10 per 5,000 words. For multiple projects, authors can subscribe for $50/month, with 50% off all narration costs.

So there you have it, folks. A human-narrated audiobook can easily cost $3500-$5000 to produce. A 100,000 word digitally narrated audiobook will cost a couple hundred to get out there. When you take into account the digitally narrated audiobook will sound about 90 percent human, that’s not a bad compromise. And I don’t think we’re too far away from a place where you’ll almost have to be an audio expert to tell the difference.

The question remains for many people is whether or not this is morally and ethically right. If you look at technical revolutions throughout history, they have always disrupted the status quo. In the 19th century, the Luddites were textile workers rebelling against the automation in mills. Did that stop the process?

No, but it created a whole new segment of industrial jobs. Somebody had to operate those mills. Textile workers became machine operators in a factory rather than sitting at home with a traditional loom. And while Henry Ford did put a lot of blacksmiths and buggy whip makers out of business, in the end I think it’s safe to say he created more jobs than the ones he eliminated.

Besides, blacksmiths are still around, and I’d speculate that they’re making more than ever.

Another way to look at it is if I produce an AI-narrated audiobook, have I caused an audiobook narrator’s children to go hungry? No, because I can’t afford the human narrator in the first place. I drive a KIA; that doesn’t mean I took a Cadillac worker’s job. I can’t afford a Cadillac to begin with, not to mention I wouldn’t be caught dead in one.

Nearly twenty years ago, many gurus railed that the advent of the eBook industry spelled doom for print books. But are print books dead? No, they’re more popular than ever before.

So if you’re a human audiobook narrator and voice-over artist, do you need to be looking for a new career? I don’t think so. Human voices are always going to be needed, even in audiobook narration.

Two years ago at the NINC conference, I had a conversation with USA Today best-selling author Sylvia McDaniel, a hybrid author who’s penned over 100 romance novels. She’s very successful and a delightful person to be around. I’m genuinely fond of her.

She told me that her approach is to produce two audiobook versions of her novels. The human-narrated version is priced as a traditional audiobook—roughly the $10.99-on-up range—and a digitally narrated book for as little as $.99 with an Audible membership.

So if you’re an audiobook consumer and want the joy of hearing Tom Hanks narrate the latest best-seller, then you can shell out a little more for that privilege.

But if you’re just looking for somebody to read you the dang book while you’re driving to and from work, then that option comes a lot cheaper.

Does any of this sound familiar?

During the Great Depression, a lot of people couldn’t afford food and clothes, let alone expensive hardbound books. In 1935, a London publisher named Allen Lane came up with an idea to make books more accessible and affordable. He created a universal format that was cheap to produce and would easily fit into standardized wire racks that could be placed in any retail space, not just bookstores.

He founded a company—Penguin Books—to move this idea forward and the mass-market paper was born. For the next seventy years—until the advent of the eBook that replaced it—the mass market paperback was the chief medium for both fiction and nonfiction sales.

I think we may see something very similar to that in audiobooks.

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But it’s not just audiobooks. What else is expensive to produce for an indie author?

Foreign translations…

With Amazon.com in practically every corner of the globe, marketing eBook translations can be a lucrative revenue stream. Only it costs a boatload of money to hire a translator and there’s no guarantee you’ll ever see a decent ROI.

While at the NINC conference, I met indie authors who are using a company called ScribeShadow to produce AI-translated foreign editions. I spoke with a few authors who have used this service and have been very happy, especially given the 90 percent-plus savings in creating the foreign work.

What about the quality? Idioms and inflection? The nuances of slang and regional dialect? I once had to explain to a Japanese translator that my use of the Southern idiom slicker than snot on a doorknob didn’t mean there was literally mucous on the door handle. Yes, I agreed, that would be very unhygienic. 

One author explained to me that when you produce a foreign language eBook, if the translation sucks, readers will beat you to death in the reviews. She’s done a number of German translations—without speaking a word of German—and so far, her reviews have been positive.

This author doesn’t even use German proofreaders to check the translation. She told me she feeds an English manuscript into the ScribeShadow AI platform, and a German translation pops out the other end. Then she feeds the German translation into ChatGPT for a final check.

There you have it, folks; a foreign edition of your English masterpiece that’s entirely untouched by human hands.

As I’ve said so many times over the last year-and-a-half of writing these columns, it’s a whole new world out there.

As always, thanks for playing along.

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Wait! Stop the presses! The day after I turned this column in, Amazon announced via PublishersLunch that they’ve launched an AI translation service for indie authors publishing through KDP. It’s currently in Beta and will convert books from English and Spanish and from German to English (not sure exactly what that means), with more languages to be added soon.

To quote from Amazon’s announcement: With less than 5% of titles on Amazon.com available in more than one language, Kindle Translate creates opportunities for authors to reach new audiences and earn more…Within a few days, authors can publish fully formatted translations of their books. All translations are automatically evaluated for accuracy before publication, and authors can choose whether to preview or automatically publish completed translations.

And, like KDP’s digital audiobooks option, the service is free.

See what I mean, folks? Things are changing so you have to update columns before they’re even published. I’ll do some more digging and report back in next month’s edition. Best guidance going forward—jump in and hang on!

Flying Solo: On Finding Success As a Writer Without the Help of an Agent

By Anna Scotti

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When a writer lets slip that there's a novel in the works—or a story, or a collection of stories—the first thing people want to know is whether you have an agent. And from there, we writers start to dream. 

Agents do all the hard work of submitting material. They hook you up with advances, royalties, movie deals, foreign rights, video game rights, maybe a TV or streaming deal. Along with their first cousin, the book publicist, agents are the key to success, fame, and fortune. Right?

One of the biggest book deals on record is Michelle and Barack Obama's mega-deal with Penguin - 65 million bucks for four books. Okay, you say, but that's a former president and a first lady. Let's be pragmatic. What can we, as mystery writers, expect?  Well, Lisa Scottoline has a net worth upwards of 25 million dollars following a fat deal with Grand Central a couple of years back. Dean Koontz is worth 150 million, and James Patterson is halfway to a billion, having landed what is arguably the most lucrative multi-book deal in history. These deals were brokered by agents. But we're being pragmatic, remember, so you might expect your first book deal to net you well less than a million bucks. Fifty grand sounds about right. Not enough for a condo in Hollywood, but more than enough for a low-end beemer with cash left over for gas. Sure, fifty grand.

 Well, no.

 The average traditionally-published mystery novel nets its author five to ten thousand dollars. And that's of the books that find traditional publishers, which is a slim percentage of the books that are actually completed and shopped around. And that percentage is itself a slim fraction of the books that are begun, tapped out on laptops before school or after work, dreamed up over lattes in coffee houses and hashed out in writers' groups, paragraph by sweaty paragraph. It's hard to write a book. It's really hard to finish, edit, revise, and polish a book. And it's near impossible to land an agent.

Sure, writers do find agents. Depending upon the source you consult, there are between 300 and 1000 agents currently active in the United States. That's maybe six to twenty per state - not a lot. Each agent has 20, maybe thirty, writers currently signed to their roster, so they are able to be extremely selective about whom they sign. Agents exist because it's extremely difficult to get your work in front of major publishers without one. But it's also extremely difficult to get your work in front of an agent to begin with! Conferences definitely help—quite a few writers have found representation after meeting an agent at Killer Nashville, for example, or at various "pitch conferences."  Networking and persistence help, too. But there are hundreds of articles available about how to find an agent, and most of them are accurate, realistic…and discouraging. It's like a game of musical chairs where instead of one person getting left out, everybody but one person gets left out. Somebody is going to catch that agent's eye—but this time around, it might not be you.

So what about getting your work in front of publishers without an agent? Is it possible? Absolutely! In fact, I can tell you exactly how to get your work seen by Gina Centello at Random House, or Ben Sevier at Grand Central. It's simple—just invent a time machine, go back several decades, and get born into their families. Or save their dog from getting run over and create a life-long debt, something along those lines. But what if your scientific and metaphysical skills are not as strong as your mystery-writing prowess?  You will probably not be publishing your first book with Harper Collins, but it is entirely possible to land a contract with a reputable house. 

The first step is to be realistic. You may end up as big as Lisa Scottoline or James Patterson someday, but you are not there yet. You may end up sipping Stellas at the White Horse Tavern with Gina or Ben someday, but you're not there yet. You've got a book, and it's good. It's been polished to high shine, and you want to see it between two covers. You've made the decision to seek a traditional publishing house, rather than to self-publish, or you wouldn't be reading this craft article. And here's the good news—a trade paperback published by a reputable indie or a university press is eligible for all of the same awards, honors, prizes and reviews as a hardcover book published with a lot of hoopla by any of the Big Five. 

Really?

Really. The most prestigious honor in the mystery world is probably the Edgar Allan Poe Award, familiarly known as the Edgar, and you can submit your own book to the Mystery Writers of America! Longing for an Anthony Award, or perhaps a Claymore? You don't need the publisher or an agent for that—you can submit your own work. You can even submit your own book for the Pulitzer Prize! Books released by university presses and small independent publishing houses—"indies"—routinely nab prizes, awards, honors and the press that leads to sales and builds a writer's reputation. 

But it's not always easy to get your book in front of those smaller, less prestigious publishing houses, either. They can be just as selective as Simon & Schuster or MacMillan. Maybe, under some circumstances, even more so. The big dogs can trust that a book by a bestselling author will move copies, even if it's not particularly riveting or well-reviewed. A book released by a brave little indie relies on word of mouth, professional reviews—usually in small publications and regional newspapers—and reader reviews on Goodreads and Amazon to spark interest and rack up sales. True, an indie house doesn't need to move 10 to 25 thousand copies to avoid Monday-morning regrets. A thousand copies may be considered a success, indeed—and may turn a tidy profit for the house. But because it's expensive to acquire, edit, copy edit, design, register, and distribute a book, small houses have to be careful; they can't afford a lot of misfires.

So as you prepare your novel or collection to make its way into the world, be meticulous. There are a million free sources at your fingertips to show you how to format your manuscript, but the basics are pretty simple. Use a 12-point serif font (Times New Roman will never let you down).  Double space and use one-inch margins. Paginate.  Put your name, address, phone, email and website addy (if any) on page one. Read any special instructions the publisher may have noted on their website. Then proofread, edit, copyedit, spell check, set the manuscript aside for two weeks, and go back and do it again. 

Many publishing houses read year-round. Others have reading periods—just check their websites. But don't be too quick to go over the transom or through the portal. I've had more than a few editors respond to an email letting them know I'm regularly published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. That credit opens doors in the mystery world. Even if they then ask you to submit through their portal, they may remember your name or keep an eye out for the manuscript. If you don't have a significant, impressive credit in the genre in which you are submitting, don't bother with the personal email. But if you do—a book previously published by a traditional publisher, stories in prestigious markets like EQMM or Alfred Hitchcock, or a well-known prize on your CV—send a brief, friendly email and ask for "permission" to send the manuscript. If you're directed to the plebian portal everyone has to use, nothing's lost. But you might get that much-coveted "please send your manuscript to my attention" email!

Competitions are another way to get your book read by a publishing house. There are a kazillion contests out there, some legitimate, and some not. The good news is, it's pretty easy to tell the difference between the two. First, consider the sponsor. Most book competitions are sponsored by small publishing houses, so check the site. Does it look attractive and well-maintained? Are winners from previous years listed? Google a few of them. Are their winning books in print? How do they look? Where can readers obtain the books? Distribution is the bugaboo of indie publishing—love it or not, many readers want to purchase their books online at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. If your book is available only through the publisher's site, is it easy to use? Actually log on and look. All the self-promotion in the world won't help your thriller if the publisher makes it hard to find or hard to buy—and some, inexplicably, do. 

Most competitions charge an entry fee, and that really seems to bother some writers, but the fact is that entry fees help small presses pay the cost of publishing and distributing their winning manuscripts. The same is true of contests that run without a book contract attached.  You may get a juicy credit for your resume, a banquet, a plaque, a sticker for your book cover, or even a cash prize, and the sponsors use entry fees to pay for those goodies. However, if you are truly hard up, there is often a fee waiver available—if you don't see one offered, ask. 

If you do place a book with a small publisher, whether through a contest or simply through open submissions, you may need to do a significant amount of marketing and publicity yourself. That sounds daunting, but it's not, really. You'll make a press kit of digital ARCs (advanced reading copies), a bio, a synopsis, and other materials the publisher will provide - things like an ISBN number, a link to pre-purchase, and some kind of announcement on the publisher's site and social media. Where will you send this press kit?  Everywhere you can think of, from local and regional newspapers, to magazines that publish reviews, to your alumni association and neighborhood groups, and to local bookstores and libraries. There are a lot of resources available that will show you ways to promote your own book, and if you have a good publisher, they will welcome your efforts and do all possible to help you. 

What about short stories? Even well-known writers usually submit their own work to magazines and anthologies. There simply isn't enough of a cut available to interest an agent (though an agent may perform this service as a courtesy to a big-name writer on their roster). The top magazines in our field—Ellery Queen, Alfred Hitchcock, The Strand, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, and Black Cat Weekly, all pay—and all accept submissions without a "reading fee." And don't forget big-money fiction markets like The New Yorker and The Atlantic. Publishing in one of those can kickstart a career. It's a long shot, sure—but submitting to these and others of their ilk is free, and miracles do happen. (Really! Your girl here had her first New Yorker poem pulled out of the slush pile nearly ten years ago and has published five times with them since.) 

Literary journals are great in one regard—not so hot in another. They tend to be beautifully produced, carefully edited, and packed with notable work. Whether in paper copy or online, you'll be proud to show off your work in a lit journal. However, their circulation rates are generally low. Further, a few literary prizes are open only to work that has received payment from the publisher. That's why some markets offer a token payment. For example, if you place a story with The Saturday Evening Post's "New Fiction Fridays" you'll receive a check for twenty-five bucks. Why bother, you ask?  Because The Post produces your story beautifully, it's accessible online without a paywall, and the magazine is widely recognized and well-respected. Publishing in the Post online is a reputation-builder, not a money-maker. And it may give you a step up into the hard-copy magazine, which pays significantly more. Plus, that token payment will allow you entree to contests that would not otherwise be open to you. Less commercial journals have smaller circulations than The Post, but their stories make their way to various contents and "best of,"s too. One of my favorites of my own stories, What Anyone Would Think, was published in The New Guard Literary Review and made barely a ripple in the pond—but it is the centerpiece of a collection that was a finalist for the Claymore Prize, and is currently under consideration by several publishers—and agents!

That's right, I'm presently un-agented! Sure, I'd like to find someone great to handle my next book, but I can't say I regret flying solo for the collection from Down&Out Books in June, It's Not Even Past. Working closely with the publisher on layout, book cover copy, cover design, editing and copyediting, and publicity has been an incredible learning experience; I know how to get a book into the hands of reviewers, how to post social media announcements strategically, and how to set up cover reveals, interviews, guest spots on blogs, readings, and signings. Being sans agent has never held me back. It's Not Even Past is a compilation of "librarian on the run" stories from Ellery Queen and includes ten of the twenty-two stories I've sold to the magazine since 2018 without an agent. You can also find my work—a good amount of it—in Black Cat Weekly. In the past few years, I've been a finalist for the Macavity, the Derringer, the Thriller, and twice for the Claymore Prize! I've been in the running for an Ellery Queen Reader's Choice Award a number of times, I've had work selected for various podcasts and reprints, and my stories have been selected three times for Best Mystery Stories of the Year (Mysterious Press). I've lost count of the readings and signings I've done, and—oh, yeah. Did I mention that I'm also a poet and young adult author? My poetry collection, Bewildered by All This Broken Sky, won the inaugural Lightscatter Prize in 2020, and my young adult novel, Big and Bad, was awarded the Paterson Prize for Books for Young People the same year. Many of these honors and awards came with nice checks attached, and every single one was achieved without the help of an agent. Now, that's quite a brag fest, but boasting isn't my purpose here. I want you to understand that many working writers are flying solo and finding success, and you can, too—if you're good enough, persistent enough, creative enough, and willing to put in the hours. Good luck!

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Learn more about Anna Scotti - and about publishing books and stories without an agent, garnering publicity, and teaching as a side career - at Anna K Scotti.  It's Not Even Past is available now from the publisher, from Amazon or Barnes and Noble, and by order from your local bookstore.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Traffic Stops, Part Two

By David Lane Williams

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Last month, we discussed traffic stops, focusing primarily on how police officers stopping vehicles based on relatively minor offenses can lead to the detection and arrest of violent criminals. Even if you’re writing a detective procedural, it’s important that you understand the constitutional and tactical considerations of a legal and safe stop in the grand scheme of policing. This month, I want to continue with the traffic stop concept, expanding on best practices. Traffic stops are performed thousands of times each day, and writers of crime fiction and true crime need to have a solid understanding of how they are performed to show they’ve done the research and know this subject better than the average Joe Citizen. There is a procedure taught at most academies nowadays, and I think it is enlightening to understand the way these things should be done. Let’s take it step by step. 

Determine Reasonable Suspicion or Probable Cause

Let’s say your fictional officer needs to stop a car because the driver matches the description of a bank robber from the previous shift. Your officer needs to make the stop in a legal and safe manner. The first thing he must decide (and be ready to defend) is the legal reason for the stop. Officers in the U.S. can’t just go around stopping every car they pass. We’ve all seen the awful ramifications of such an approach. There are basically two ways to make a legal, constitutionally sound traffic stop: Reasonable Suspicion or Probable Cause. 

Reasonable suspicion that a driver or occupant of a moving vehicle has committed a crime or is about to commit one is an acceptable reason for stopping a vehicle. It is, however, the least resilient tactic to the scrutiny of a defense attorney, judge, and/or jury. The officer must be able to swear under oath that, based on his training and experience, he suspected the occupants of a vehicle of doing or about to do a crime. Reasonable suspicion stops are done with less frequency than even a decade ago, because of the inevitable attack it will receive from the person’s attorney if the case ever goes to trial. Most officers will wait until they notice an infraction, such as making a turn without a signal or weaving in and out of lanes. Delaying a stop for actual probable cause—AKA evidence— instead of relying solely on suspicion, puts the officer in a better position to defend his actions if the case goes to trial.

Thus, you may opt to have your fictional officer stop a car based on a “gut feeling,” but you’ve placed him in a legally precarious situation that most veteran officers wouldn’t actually choose. It can still work, but your character is in a better position if he is patient and waits to spot an actual infraction about which he can testify under oath. (Go back and read the previous month’s article if you need more detail on the difference between a Reasonable Suspicion stop and one based on Probable Cause.)

Prepare for the Stop

Preparing for the stop means calling the license plate, description, and location to the Dispatch Center so other officers will know where you are and what kind of vehicle they should look for if the officer making the stop gets attacked. The Hollywood version of a cop stopping a car in a dark alley and not letting anyone know is macho hooey and should never happen in real life (or your fiction unless you want to show a police character performing at a level of incompetence or recklessness).

Parking the Patrol Vehicle

Safe parking of the patrol vehicle calls for turning on the emergency lights and pulling in behind the stopped vehicle. At night, a patrol officer will also use a car-mounted beacon-style light in such a way that it reflects in the side mirror of the stopped car. This adds an additional layer of protection because the other driver has limited visibility due to the glare. Officers know the glare is irritating, but it is designed to give them an edge if the occupants are intent on doing them harm.

The officer will then park the squad car at a slight angle with the engine block canted to the left. This has two advantages. First, the officer can cover behind the engine block if the occupants of the other vehicle come out shooting. Second, the parked squad car will careen to the left instead of straight into the officer if another car hits it from behind. 

Approaching the Vehicle

Approaching the vehicle can be done by either stepping up to the driver’s door or around the back of the stopped vehicle just behind the passenger door. I preferred the second method when I worked at night. Most people will be watching for the officer to approach from their left. Coming up on the right side of their car allowed me to be beside the vehicle and use my flashlight to see if the occupants were holding a weapon before they even knew I was close. 

Either way, officers will touch the trunk compartment door as they pass the rear fender. This action marks the suspect vehicle with the officer’s fingerprints and DNA. Should the suspect “rabbit” (flee), his car will carry definitive evidence of the encounter. It also lets the officer make sure the trunk is fully closed in case there is anyone in the trunk intent on doing him harm. 

Once the officer is near the car, he should identify himself and his agency right away. This has a proven effect of calming concerns from the driver that the officer might be corrupt. Corrupt cops don’t tend to give their names, and this small detail can make all the difference in terms of keeping the tone polite and professional. 

I am also a big believer that officers should clearly state why they pulled the car over, e.g., “I pulled you over because you were speeding through a school zone.” Again, this has a dampening effect on any driver revving up to argue. The officer should be clear, forthright, and professional, which is what it will sound like to jurors listening to the officer’s body camera recording if this thing ever goes to trial. 

Positioning At the Vehicle

I roll my eyes at cop shows where the police officer is talking straight down into the window of the suspect vehicle. The problem with standing right beside the driver’s window is that this position puts you in the line of fire should he turn homicidal. Bullets go through car doors like toothpicks through those little Christmas party sausages. Don’t let your fictional officer stand right by the door. I’ll surmise he was poorly trained or that he is about to get shot in the groin.

Instead, officers are taught to stand adjacent to the thick metal door frame behind the driver’s seat. This space has the tactical advantage of keeping the driver in sight while also making it more difficult for him to accurately fire a weapon backward and over his left shoulder. Try it next time you’re in the driver’s seat. Point your finger like you’re a kid playing with a pretend space phaser and see if you can “photon blast” someone standing back there. You can, but it’s slow and clumsy—the advantage in a split-second attack goes to the officer.

Remember: Officer survival is part tactics and part practice, but all mindset. A well-trained police officer will be thinking about these concepts as he approaches the car. 

Background Check

By now, your officer has collected pertinent paperwork, including the vehicle registration (not all states require this), proof of insurance, and the driver’s license. The officer has conversed with the occupants, determined what, if any, violations have occurred, and retreated toward his own car to increase the safety distance. Now the officer will either type in the occupants’ identification into a mobile computer or call it out to the Dispatch Center. 

I preferred to keep my eyes on the car by calling Dispatch on the radio. Oftentimes, I would do this while standing behind the trunk of my own car, again so that I would have the protection of my vehicle should occupants in the stopped car come out firing. The last place I would want to be in that event would be sitting comfy—and trapped—in my driver’s seat.

Once the cop has determined there are no outstanding arrest warrants for the people in the car, he’ll decide whether to issue a warning or a citation. Once this is done, the officer needs to make a formal announcement along the lines of, “You’re free to go.” 

This is where things might get tricky. Once the person who was detained has been informed he is free to go, he is…free to go. But, this is also when the officer may ask if there is anything illegal in the car. If the driver says, “No,” but he does it in a less-than-credible manner, the officer might follow up with, “So, you wouldn’t mind if I did a quick search, then?” 

Why then? Why not ask to search before the officer has lifted the detention? Here’s the thing: any search of a vehicle (or anywhere considered private from the prying eyes of government) done while a person is in custody is likely to get thrown out of court. In simplest terms, a person in custody may not feel they have a choice but to let that government agent search their car. Thus, any search during the stop could, and probably should, be considered involuntary. You can’t volunteer to allow a search if you don’t believe you have an option. The case is likely to be dismissed, even if you were to find a severed head and a bloody axe in the trunk. 

Officers who are looking to make lots of drug-related arrests use this tactic often. Mentioning to the driver that he is free to leave, but following up with a request to search the car is a workaround, and defense attorneys everywhere just groaned. I can’t say I blame them. This strategy pushes the limits of the Fourth Amendment, and I’m not an advocate for using it during most traffic stops. That said, this is a standard drug interdiction technique, and you may decide to use it to propel your storyline forward. 

Bloody axe, anyone?

A Word on “Do you know who I am?” 

I don’t care if you’re a minister taking her family out for a picnic after church, Senator So & So’s aide, or a rookie attorney who just passed the bar; cops don’t know “who you are,” and they don’t particularly care. They know they’ve stopped you for a reason, and they expect to speak with you and investigate further. 

You wanna make a cop mock you long after the traffic stop? Say, “Do you know who I am?” when he approaches the car. You’ll be the belle of the squad room when he tells his buddies about it later. 

That’s it for this month. Until then, be safe…just not too safe. You’ve got a job to do, after all. Onward.

This Crazy Writing Life Performs Killer Nashville Post Mortems

By Steven Womack

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As I write this, it’s been almost three weeks since the 2025 Killer Nashville conference concluded. I intended to sit down and very quickly dash out some thoughts on what has become over the last couple of decades a major international writing conference.

The only problem is I was so overwhelmed by it all that it took me a few days to recover, then another week or so to gather my thoughts and wrap my head around what it all meant. While I’ve been to Killer Nashville many times as a panelist or a guest speaker, this was the first time I’ve ever gone full tilt on the conference (I was supposed to go total immersion last year, but I got an unexpected visit from Mr. Covid).

So this was the year when I went all-in on KN. I was on three panels, plus the wonderful Jaden (Beth) Terrell and the equally wonderful Lisa Wysocky and I did a master class called “Setting, Sidekicks, and Secrets” that took all of Thursday afternoon. I also attended a half-dozen or so panels. It was both intense and simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting.

After all this, what’s the takeaway?

First—and this is not a particularly brilliant observation—Killer Nashville has evolved from a small regional conference first conceived by its founder, Clay Stafford, twenty years ago to a major national mystery conference. I’d go so far as to say its eclipsed just about every other conference of its type. The program booklet alone is 100 pages long. The number of sponsors grows every year, and its two awards—the Silver Falchion and the Claymore Awards—have become major mystery awards, as evidenced by how many winners are now including the award on their websites, social media, and C.V.s. Major figures in the mystery and crime arena—like this year’s Guest of Honor appearance by Sara Paretsky—now show up at KN.

Second observation: Killer Nashville celebrates mystery and crime fiction, but its over-riding focus is on writing crime fiction. Aspiring writers come to Killer Nashville to learn about the craft and business of writing crime fiction. A great deal of the conference concentrates on putting writers together with agents and editors. Panels covered topics like “Steal Like an Artist: Learning from Other Author’s Novels,” “Writers and Taxes,” and “Writing Intimacy: From Fade to Black to Open Door.” These are all craft components and business components of the writing life.

While there’s plenty of stuff at Killer Nashville to interest readers, and readers certainly seem to be welcome, writers and aspiring writers are going to get the most out of the weekend.

This separates it from other conferences like Bouchercon, which remains the largest mystery convention in the world. Bouchercon brings together fans and creators of crime fiction on an equal basis to celebrate the genre. Fans go there to meet their favorite authors, and authors go there to be seen and to maintain a presence in the mystery community. While there are panels on craft (although after attending a number of Bouchercons, I can’t remember any), people mostly go to Bouchercon to either meet their heroes or to network and do business. I was introduced to my longest running literary agent at the Toronto Bouchercon in 1992.

At the 1995 Bouchercon in Nottingham, England, I met Anne Perry, which was a great thrill. We had the same editor at Ballantine Books, and he introduced us. For writers, that’s the great benefit of attending conventions and conferences. Once you’ve been multiply published, you probably don’t need a panel on writing compelling dialogue. But to meet your own literary heroes or make friends with a fellow writer who will introduce you to their editor or agent is a real plus (and obviously, you can do the same thing for other writers as well). I’ve met people at Bouchercon and other conferences who’ve remained lifelong friends.

Third observation: Killer Nashville has grown to the extent that it is, in some ways, busting at the seams. The conference sold out, and it can’t grow any bigger without relocating to a larger venue (you know how those pesky fire marshals are). More importantly, the schedule is jammed from morning ‘til night. I realize that the event schedulers have to try to accommodate every author who wants to be on a panel, and that’s a truly noble objective. But when you’ve got a moderator and five panelists speaking on a panel that only lasts 45 minutes, then by the time everyone’s introduced and you leave ten minutes at the end for Q&A, each person has maybe five-to-seven minutes speaking time. This precludes any kind of really deep dive on any subject.

Final observation: Despite its growth and evolution from a minor regional conference that nobody’s ever heard of to one of the 800-pound gorillas in the mystery world, Killer Nashville remains one of the most cordial, relaxed, friendly conferences out there. There’s very little competition among authors for attention (in fact, I saw none), and the people who run the conference, all the way up to founder Clay Stafford, remain approachable, helpful, and easy to work with.

So what’s the final takeaway?

Writers tend to be introverts. Given our druthers, most of us would probably stay home in our jammies and pound away on a keyboard while our coffee sits there getting cold. Unfortunately, that’s not the way This Crazy Writing Life works. Writers, publishers, editors, proofreaders, everyone who occupies a place on this long journey is a human being and humans need connection. Publishing is an industry built on connections. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to break out of our shells and comfort zones and get out there in the world, get our work out there into the world. I hate the term networking; it seems so mercenary. I’d prefer to think of it as building relationships based on mutual affection, goals, and aspirations.

And speaking of which, I’m off next week to St. Petersburg Beach to attend the annual Novelists, Inc. conference. I’ve mentioned Novelists, Inc. in previous columns. This is a different kind of conference. It’s all business and lots of hard work, but it also takes place on a gorgeous beachside resort, and the sponsors compete to throw the best dinners, parties, cocktail hours, and other goodies.

I know, I get it. It’s a dirty job but somebody’s gotta do it.

Thanks for playing along. See you next time.

My Ten-Year Journey from Clueless to Getting a Clue

By Lois Winston

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Note from the author: If you’ve ever attended a writers’ conference, a writing workshop, or an author talk, you’ve probably heard that the road to publication is a marathon, not a sprint. However, until you’ve taken part in that marathon, you have no idea just how appropriate the analogy is.

I was one of the Keynote Speakers at this year’s Killer Nashville Conference and had the honor of speaking at the Saturday night banquet. Afterwards, I had dozens of people thank me for having the courage to “tell it like it really is,” laying bare the trials and tribulations I encountered in my ten-year journey from unpublished wannabe to bestselling and award-winning author. After speaking with Clay Sunday morning, we decided that I should share my talk with those who couldn’t attend the banquet or view the livestream of the awards ceremony. What follows is that Keynote Address.

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My First Clueless Career Aspiration: astronaut.

Reality Check: NASA isn’t interested in vertically challenged candidates who suffer from motion sickness.

My Second Clueless Career Aspiration: starring on Broadway.

Reality Check: Broadway isn’t interested in singers who can’t sing, dancers who can’t dance, and actors who can’t act.

Getting a clue: Going to art school and becoming a crafts designer. No singing, dancing, acting, or G-force required.

I never thought about writing novels until 1995 when I awoke one morning to find imaginary people had taken up residence in my brain and were demanding I tell their story.

Three weeks later, I’d written a 50,000-word romance that spanned thirty-five years. Being completely clueless, I thought I’d written The Great American Novel. Agents and editors thought otherwise.

Until one didn’t.

That agent said my book had potential but needed work. The agency had an editing service. They offered me a discount. Yes, clueless me fell for their scam. Several years later, everyone connected with that agency was convicted of fraud.

Another agent said she could get more money for my book by first selling the screenplay. Nothing ever came of it. A few years later, I saw Notting Hill. That was my plot! Coincidence? I hope so, but I’ve learned theft of intellectual property is common in Hollywood. Just ask Tess Gerritsen.

Instead of giving up after countless rejections and negative experiences, I bought an armload of books on how to write a romance. I learned about a national organization with local chapters that welcomed clueless wannabees like me. I joined. I started another manuscript and worked on revising The Great American Novel.

A year later, I attended my first conference and pitched my manuscript. One well-known agent requested it, then offered me representation. I was finally on my way.

Or so clueless me thought. Until the rejection letters started filling her mailbox.

Clueless me thought that if you write a book an agent loves, she’ll quickly be able to sell it.

Reality Check: that rarely happens.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you work at something and no matter how many professionals agree that your book is worthy of publication, outside forces can work against you.

The editor who champions your book can’t convince the editorial board, or she leaves the publishing house, or moves to a different position where she’s no longer buying your genre. I experienced all of that as I began to get a clue about the realities of publishing.

During those years, my agent never gave up on me, though. I think I became her pet project.

By the late 90s chick lit had become all the rage. My agent suggested I try writing one. Several editors showed interest in Resurrecting Gertie. Until they didn’t.

Then, one day in late 2003, my agent said an editor at Warner Books was looking for a humorous crafting-themed amateur sleuth series. My agent thought I’d be the perfect person to write one. I knew crafts, and my chick lit novel proved I could write humor.

I bought an armload of books on how to write a mystery. A few days later, when I burned my finger on my glue gun, I even had a title. Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun became the first book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series.

A few months later, I’d finished the book. The editor loved it. But Warner was in the process of being sold to Hatchette. All contracts were on hold. Then, Hatchette took over and immediately cancelled the cozy and amateur sleuth lines.

I entered Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun in St. Martin’s Malice Domestic competition. The grand prize was a publishing contract with a ten-thousand-dollar advance. I was notified that I was a finalist. I didn’t win.

Maybe I was too clueless to read the writing on the wall. Maybe my agent was, too. But my stubbornness trumped my cluelessness, and my agent still didn’t give up on me.

In late 2004, Dorchester Publishing teamed up with Romantic Times Magazine to create the American Title competition. The winner received a publishing contract. My agent wasn’t keen on Dorchester, but I decided to enter several manuscripts. Resurrecting Gertie, my chick lit novel, was a finalist. It came in second, but I was still offered a contract. Ten years, almost to the day of that long ago dream, it was published as Talk Gertie to Me.

During those ten years, I’d kept revising The Great American Novel. As I racked up clues, it morphed into Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception, a 95,000-word romantic suspense that spanned several months. It became my second sale.

I’d also acquired enough clues that shortly after my first sale, I was invited to join the agency that represented me. I began by reading the slush pile and eventually had a handful of clients. Suddenly, I was juggling three full-time careers—designer, author, and agent.

Happy ending? Not quite.

When I began writing thirty years ago, clueless me thought it was realistic to think I’d earn an extra $20,000 - $30,000 a year to supplement my income.

One of the reasons my agent wasn’t enthusiastic about Dorchester was that they paid very low advances and only 4% royalties. Other mass market publishers paid 6-8%. After my agent took her 15%, I made pennies on each book.

Dorchester also did little to promote their authors. I was advised to hire a publicist. My entire advance went to her, but her efforts did result in the book earning out the advance in less than a year and going into a second printing.

Still, I had much to learn. Like don’t believe the bookstore when they say your books have arrived for your launch party. They hadn’t.

Clueless me also didn’t realize that even after receiving a book contract, things can go sideways. Another reason my agent had been leery about Dorchester was some of their previous business practices. Apparently, the past wasn’t in the past, because after about a year, the royalty statements began arriving minus royalty checks. Then, even the statements stopped coming. Long story short, Dorchester was about to file for bankruptcy. Not wanting their authors’ books tied up in bankruptcy court, agents scrambled to get rights back.

At the last minute, Amazon swooped in and offered to pay back royalties to the remaining, unagented authors in exchange for the rights to publish their books. Those of us who’d gotten our rights back never saw a penny of the royalties owed us and weren’t offered contracts.

Meanwhile, my agent had continued to send out Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun. In November 2009, I received a 3-book contract from Midnight Ink, a division of Llewellyn Worldwide.

Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun was their lead title for 2011. The book received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist. Kirkus Reviews called Anastasia, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” Llewellyn paid my way to signings at Bouchercon, BookExpo, and the ALA convention.

But things were turning out less than rosy.

They promoted my book as a cozy. I was no longer clueless. I knew cozies didn’t contain 4-letter words, but I’d written an amateur sleuth mystery, which has less constraints. I’m a Jersey girl, writing about a Jersey girl, in a state where the bad guys are often members of the Mafia. They don’t say, “Golly, gee whiz.”

No one had asked me to remove certain words during the editing process. My editor said don’t worry. They’d marketed the book as cozy because cozies sold better than books labeled amateur sleuth. The book was out less than a week when the hate mail started arriving. Even words as mild as “damn” and “hell” incensed some readers.

I chalked up another clue and switched to euphemisms in future books.

They asked permission to make the first book free for a short time when the second book came out. I said I didn’t mind a sale, but I was opposed to giving away large quantities of books.

They ignored my objections. Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun was free for an entire month when Death by Killer Mop Doll released. They gave away more than 64,000 ebooks.

Twice, my books were printed with missing chapters. When employees began leaving, rumors spread, and I feared a repeat of what had happened at Dorchester.

In 2012, I had been offered contracts for additional books in the series, plus a second series. But Lewellyn had hired a new corporate attorney who replaced all agency negotiated contracts with a new boilerplate containing questionable clauses. When they refused to negotiate, my agent advised against signing and demanded my rights back. Not long after, Llewellyn folded their fiction lines.

A few smaller publishers showed interest in picking up my series, but friends who published with them weren’t happy. My agent suggested I independently publish the series. With her help, we’d already indie published my Dorchester books.

But in 2017, my agent passed away.

So now I’m pretty much a one-woman show, writing my books, designing my covers, formatting, uploading, promoting and marketing.

I’m no longer clueless about writing and publishing. I’ve been on both sides of the table as an author and agent. I’ve experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly of this industry. Since going indie, I’ve made the USA Today list once and Amazon’s bestseller list several times.

And I’m still writing. Seams Like the Perfect Crime is the fourteenth and latest Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery. I’ve written twenty-five novels, five novellas, a children’s chapter book, several short stories, and a book on writing based on what I learned working at the agency.

I also have one novel that cavorts with the dust bunnies under my bed because I’ve gained enough clues to realize that book should never see the light of day.

Learn more about me and my books at loiswinston.com, where you can sign up for my newsletter and receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery. That’s a marketing clue I learned from attending a Killer Nashville workshop. You can also find me blogging at Booklover’s Bench and The Stiletto Gang.

In closing, I wish you all find enough clues on your own writing journeys to succeed on whichever publishing path you choose.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her series, was the recipient of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy, and Sorry, Knot Sorry, the thirteenth book in the series, recently won the 2025 Silver Falchion for Best Comedy. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

Unanswered Prayers: Truman Capote and The Case Against Perfectionism

By Mary Lynn Cloghesy and Jason Schembri

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Truman Capote is arguably one of the great American writers of the modern age. Sixty years ago, he penned his masterpiece, In Cold Blood, one of the first and best examples of a true crime novel. In fact, he established a new genre based on the book, which solidified his position among the New York literati, building on his earlier success in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. At the time, Norman Mailer called him, “the most perfect writer of my generation.” 

Imagine the pressure to follow-up… and the sense of triumph he must have felt when he surpassed all expectations. Once he’d achieved both fame and fortune through his meticulously researched account of the murder of the Clutter family, Capote set his sights even higher. He claimed his new manuscript, Answered Prayers, would “utilize all his skills,” and be the culmination of his stylistic innovations, boasting, “Oh, how easy it’ll be by comparison!” because “It’s all in my head.” 

He never finished it. Or any other major work. In fact, he suffered both personally and professionally. So, what happened? Let’s engage in our own amateur investigation, and consider the factors that led to this unfortunate outcome. By unearthing clues, we can not only bring to light the circumstances and psychological impairment that caused Capote’s anti-climax, but also prepare ourselves to tackle the same issue, which tends to affect artists in alarming numbers: perfectionism. 

As with any other case study, we need to set some parameters. Let’s begin by considering what “perfection” means. Mirriam-Webster defines it as “being entirely without fault or defect: flawless.” If we accept this as tenable, we can refine it by adding in the suffix “ism,” which is “a manner of action or behavior characteristic of a (specific) person or thing.” (fun fact: Mirriam-Webster also suggests it can be an abnormal behaviour) Now, let’s break this concept down even further. In Christopher Bergland’s article, “Is the Perfectionism Plague Taking a Psychological Toll?,” he refers to a long-term study that differentiates three aspects of perfectionism: 

1. Self-oriented perfectionism: imposing an irrational desire to be perfect on oneself.

2. Other-oriented perfectionism: placing unrealistic standards of perfection on others.

3. Socially-prescribed perfectionism: perceiving excessive expectations of perfection from others.

While the study focused on college students, we can apply the same approach to Capote. Did he suffer from one or more of these afflictions? If so, how did they become author interrupters? Let’s begin.

Self-oriented perfectionism: In his titular biography, Capote, author Gerald Clarke states that there’s a difference between “those who write, and [those who] write but can’t finish the job to their satisfaction.” Specially, Clark said “Capote set himself the highest standards, and he knew when he wasn’t achieving them.” What we can glean from this is that Capote intended to finish his book—and engaged in the act of writing—but was derailed by his own inflated expectations. He considered himself a genius, and said as much. 

In her book Bird by Bird, author Anne Lamott clarifies this painful and debilitating condition, stating, “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor; the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft (SFD).” In an article in The New Yorker (“Golden Boy”), Capote himself remarked “when thinking about how good ‘the book’ might be, I can hardly breathe,” providing further evidence as to his disposition. 

Clearly, this type of self-aggrandizement is to be avoided at all costs. But that’s not all. There’s a flip-side. He also suffered from a heartbreaking lack of confidence. While this may seem contradictory, it’s the extreme of his perfectionism, an internal split that exposed his bravado for what it was: a mask that he wore to hide his feelings of inadequacy. In an interview in 1985, Capote said, “It's a very excruciating life, facing that blank piece of paper every day, and having to reach up somewhere into the clouds and bring something down out of them.” 

Is it any surprise then that his words, as eloquent as they may have been, never fully took shape within the narrative? Let’s broaden the scope now, and consider his thoughts about others. 

Other-oriented perfectionism: Author and psychologist, William Todd Schultz, addresses Capote’s approach to others in his biography, Tiny Terror: Why Truman Capote (Almost) Wrote Answered Prayers. He created a psychological portrait of the author that suggested his dark childhood led to what Schultz called dual life-scripts, explaining that on one hand, Capote was anxious, hypersensitive, and fatalistic, yet on the other, would present himself as bulletproof, mean-spirited, and bent on revenge. 

Throughout his career, he initiated feuds with other famous authors, notably when they received praise that he felt was undeserved. His perfectionist tendencies caused him to lash out. Consider this quote directed toward Jack Kerouac in 1959, “None of these people have anything interesting to say, and none of them can write, not even Mr. Kerouac. What they do isn’t writing at all — it’s typing.” He was referring to his defining work, On the Road.   

To Capote, others were inherently flawed, and neither foe nor friend could be trusted. Yet, he became obsessed with cultivating connections among the jet set, because he wanted to be considered “worthy” of them. In 1966, he hosted a legendary Black and White Ball in New York, calling it an “all-time spectacular present” to himself. The language itself exposes his bias: “all-time” and “spectacular,” are both superlatives. He dangled invitations for months among his peers, deciding who was “in” and “out,” a malicious manifestation of his perfectionism. 

Based on his interviews, Capote seemed perpetually disappointed in himself and others. As such, Answered Prayers not only became increasingly corrosive to his relationships, reflecting his disillusionment with high-society, but also self-destructive as he spiraled into alcohol and substance abuse. By 1977, he ceased work on his magnum opus due to a “creative crisis and a personal one.” 

Could this have been avoided if he’d eased his expectations? Could he have garnered support rather than sowed derision? Perhaps. Let’s look for clues as to how others, in turn, perceived him.

Socially-prescribed perfectionism: Capote was keenly aware of public perception of himself and his work, which became a major stumbling block later in life. He described his career as being split into parts, saying in an interview with Roy Newquist in 1964, “I think I’ve had two careers. One was the career of precocity, the young person who published a series of books… My second career began with Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It involved a different point of view…” 

As a young man, Capote described himself as precocious, which presumes boldness tempered by innocence. His talent was discovered early on, and he didn’t hesitate to use his gifts. Yet, after the critical and commercial success of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, he shifted to a more experimental form of writing, a “non-fiction novel,” which begs the question why? Had he accomplished all he’d hoped to? Or was he deviating from what he knew because he was afraid of measuring-up?

Capote’s biographer Clark informs us, “He never allowed anything to be published that he thought was not up to snuff, and despite the booze and the setbacks he wrote well, very well… He just wasn’t able to finish the big one, Answered Prayers.” In the planning stages, Capote believed this work would become the American equivalent of Marcel Proust’s, In Search of Lost Time, a lofty comparison. It was scheduled for publication in 1968, but he eventually returned the advance.

Capote’s paralysis reveals a deep-seated fear of failure, exacerbated by his early success. Psychologist and professor, Joseph Ferrari of DuPaul University, has suggested that he may have believed that if he never finished, he could never be judged. In a profile in Interview Magazine, Capote admitted, “The more you know about something, the harder it becomes. You become more and more of a perfectionist. I think it’s a curse… it’s a form of illness.” 

So, what can we learn from him? How can we do it differently? As much as our pens and keyboards are essential tools of the trade, so are our self-care practices. We must cultivate a positive outlook towards ourselves and others to sustain a long and healthy career as a writer, particularly given the pressure associated with publishing (and marketing). 

When the balance is off, we begin to see ourselves “as” our work, stifling creativity and alienating others. Capote mused, “I think I would have written five times as much as I’ve written, if I didn’t have this terrible sense of perfection.” 

With that in mind, our top tip this month is to differentiate between perfectionism and the pursuit of excellence. Writers at all stages of their careers will strive to do their best work. There is nothing wrong with that—in fact, it’s an honorable aspiration—as long as the desire to learn and grow underpins what appears on the page. Perfectionism is the precise opposite. It’s a fixed belief that our skills and abilities are preset, where any struggle confirms our misunderstanding, creating a painful feedback loop.

If you recognize yourself in this article, meaning you suffer from procrastination or writer’s flood (filling vast pages only to delete the majority of the text afterwards), feel anger or negativity toward yourself or others when you (or they) write, seek validation and praise while feeling like an imposter, it’s time to get help. Perfectionism is a complex and dysfunctional mindset that requires an intervention and an assortment of strategies.

Regardless, here's a quick exercise you can try: ask yourself “what if?” questions. By contemplating the opposite (a tried-and-true technique that comes from Patanjali’s, Yoga Sutras), you can open new pathways. For example: What if you gave yourself permission to write an SFD? What if others would applaud your efforts? What if your worth wasn’t based on your work? Brainstorm some questions, then free-write your answers. Good or bad, skewed or not, they will help inform your next steps. 

Reach out. Talk to someone you trust. Do some reading and research. Above all else, remember Capote’s example. Don’t allow his fate to become yours. His true crime legacy includes the one perpetrated by himself on himself. He said, “More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.” Prophetic words.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Legal Justification for a Traffic Stop

By David Lane Williams

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Patrol officers have many different roles day-to-day. They may bust out of the station for a domestic violence call or be dispatched to an armed robbery while eating lunch. The next hour may be taken up with a traffic accident, followed by a shoplifting complaint. An elderly woman may call about hearing sounds beneath her house, relieved when the smudged and dusty officer reappears from the crawl space to report the intruder was only a raccoon. In other words, the mission of protect and serve stays the same, though the tasks involved change by the minute. 

The most visible duty, though, has to do with traffic stops. We’ve all seen them, and many of us have been the subject of a stop. Perhaps we were speeding, didn’t use a turn signal, weaving in and out of lanes or tailgating another driver. There are any number of reasons a patrol officer might pull us over, but this aspect of police work is one of the least understood. 

Even if you write exclusively about detective work, it is important that you understand the reasons for and mechanics of traffic stops. I can’t tell you how many times as a detective that I asked patrol officers to pull over a car for me so I could locate a suspect, find contraband specific to the case I was working, or to make an arrest for a violent crime. Stopping vehicles using the trappings of a patrol vehicle such as the emergency lights, decals and insignia, and public address systems is the safest way. 

Your protagonist investigator may need to stop a fictional “bad guy” while he’s driving a car in which he has hidden an axe he used in the murder of his business partner. Perhaps your detective has gotten information the suspect will be moving the axe from his basement in order to throw it in a lake. Your investigator needs to stop the guy quickly to secure the evidence, and the safest way is to call in help from Patrol. 

There are a lot of factors that go into the decision to stop a car. It must be done in the safest way, which means controlling the tactical advantage at all times. It must also be done in a constitutionally sound manner, both because it is wrong to violate someone’s civil rights, and also because not doing so is the fastest way to get your case thrown out in court. 

There is no such thing as a “routine” traffic stop. Every stop carries the possibility of ending badly. People don’t much like being pulled over by police, even if they know they’ve been speeding, driving drunk, or throwing litter out of their pickup truck. Some people, however, hate it so much that they’re willing to murder the officer who stopped them. 

There are people in this world with felony warrants out for their arrest. Some are looking at life behind bars once they’re caught, so the safety of the officer and anyone else unlucky to be in the line of fire are of no concern. They will die in prison if they don’t get away from the cop who stopped them, and violence is a choice too many are willing to make. 

Thus, every officer coming out of a police academy in America is trained on how to safely and professionally conduct such a stop. Unfortunately, not everyone does it the way they were trained, but the preparatory foundation is a starting point for this discussion. Let’s explore the most professional, least confrontational way of conducting a temporary detention of a driver for an infraction. 

In a traffic stop several things should happen as a matter of constitutional law, training, experience, and a totality of the circumstances. First and foremost is the stop itself. It is only legal for police officers to stop you while driving a car if they have evidence—probable cause—that you have committed a crime or an infraction, or they have a reasonable suspicion that you are about to commit a crime or just committed one. 

Examples of reasonable suspicion that have come before the Supreme Court include stopping cars coming out of a parking lot where there is known drug trafficking (this is constitutionally limited and not used as often anymore), “furtive” movements such as a guy ducking into the shadows when a patrol car cruises by, or someone sprinting away when a police officer approaches. All suspicious, but such subjective decisions on the part of the officer based on his or her training and experience are ripe for misinterpretation, abuse, and second-guessing. 

Probable cause, however, is less subjective, which is why most officers wait to make a stop until they have actual evidence and not just a suspicion of misdeed. This is a critical concept for writers of mystery and thriller fiction to understand. Yes, officers could stop a car based on suspicious circumstances, but veteran cops soon learn that they will spend less time in court being grilled on the stand by a defense attorney if they spot evidence of an actual infraction before turning on their emergency lights. 

This is why some of you may have felt like a police car was following you for too long. You start muttering profanities and staring into your rearview mirror. I’m sure this is where the phrase, “Doesn’t he have better things to do with his time?” came from. Perhaps. It could be that the officer is simply driving in the same direction as you, but it could also be that he is waiting until he has verifiable probable cause. This is especially true if he is trying to record said evidence on his dash camera. 

For example, he may see a person speeding down the road, crossing over the median stripes, or their car has a burned-out taillight. Any of those would constitute probable cause for a stop. 

I can almost hear some of you groaning right now. Stopping someone for a defective taillight? Are you kidding me? Stopping a car for speeding or suspicion of drunk driving is one thing, but why would an officer “waste” time pulling over a car for a light bulb issue? 

There are two answers to this. First, every state has laws regulating safety features on a car, and working lights are part of that package. 

I grant you a broken taillight isn’t on the same level of offense as a driver speeding through a school zone or drunkenly weaving back and forth in traffic. That said, every officer I know has stopped someone for a lower-end priority infraction such as a defective light, expired license tags, or a busted muffler only to find out the driver is a wanted felon. 

In 1995 Oklahoma State Trooper Charlie Hanger pulled over a yellow Mercury for the minor infraction of missing a license plate. To his surprise, Trooper Hanger came to discover the driver of the Mercury was one Timothy McVeigh who had just perpetrated the largest domestic terrorism attack in the history of this nation. McVeigh had worked with other white supremacist/government separatists to blow up the Alfred P. Murrah building in downtown Oklahoma City. 

That one stop helped the FBI retrieve an avalanche of evidence later used against McVeigh at trial. Would McVeigh have gotten away with the murder of one-hundred-sixty-eight and the injury of another six-hundred-eighty people had Trooper Hanger not stopped him for a minor infraction? Potentially, yes, but I think it is also fair to wonder how many others Trooper Hanger saved by stopping McVeigh such a short time after his cowardly act. It was courageous, savvy police work, and it illustrates the potential value in such traffic stops. 

Next month I’ll walk you through how a safe, constitutionally sound, and effective traffic stop should go. Until then, be safe…just not too safe. Onward.

Japanese Literary Terms

By Neil Plakcy

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When I began writing my series of stories based on the concepts of Japanese healing fiction, I discovered that there are many uniquely Japanese literary terms. The popularity of this form, of haiku, and even of K-drama, can help with all kinds of writing. Here are fifteen of the ones I’ve found, along with ways they can be used to generate emotional depth in your work. You don’t need to use the specific term—just understand how it can be used.

Aware

You can use the Japanese term aware (AH-WAH-RAY) to recognize that many of the objects in your work may have an emotional resonance, with feelings of sadness, patriotism, or happiness. Examples include a childhood home, seeing Olympians in the colors of the United States flag, the photo of a dead relative.

Hibiki

(HE-BEE-KEY) means echo. When the gray sky echoes the emotional despair of the character. When the noise of contractors working outside reflects the anger in a conversation.

Jo-ha-kyū

This concept of modulation and movement suggests actions should begin slowly, speed up, and then end swiftly. Compare this to the traditional three or four-act structure in genre fiction.

Kaori

(KAH-OH-REE) literally means scent or fragrance, but it has a deeper meaning in Japanese literature. For fiction writers, it can relate to the way we evoke the same feeling with very different images. Both a puppy lost in the rain and a newly divorced man might have kaori.

Karumi

(KAH-RUE-ME) means lightness, and the Japanese poet Basho used it to represent the beauty of ordinary things spoken of in a simple way. Sometimes we don’t need elaborate language or metaphors to convey feeling. An empty coffee mug left on the desk of a departed co-worker could be just a mug—or it could reflect something about the impermanence of friendship or business connections or the harshness of an economic recession.

Kidai

(KEY-DAY'EE) is a Japanese way of using metonyms. “Hollywood” represents the motion picture industry, and the White House stands for presidential power.

Kigo

(KEY-GO) are nouns which imply the season because they have been traditionally associated with certain times of the year in Japanese literature and/or real life. Daffodils and jonquils are among the first flowers of spring. With their variegated petals of red and yellow, chrysanthemums represent autumn.

Komorebi

The literal meaning of this word is the dappled sunlight filtering through trees, but it can remind us to bring gentle beauty into our works.

Ma

Ma represents the importance of emptiness in a composition. Consider the pause between action and response, between two characters expressing emotion. Ma signifies a moment of contemplation or a pause within a piece. 

Mono no aware

The addition of "mono" (things/objects) transforms the concept into an awareness of the transient nature of all things and the gentle sadness that comes with this understanding. It's not just about feeling touched or moved—it's about recognizing the inherent impermanence in beauty and life itself. This concept can be useful when you have a reflective character considering his or her past.

Mono no aware is a Japanese idiom that conveys a deep awareness of the impermanence of things and the sadness that comes with it. 

A classic example that illustrates the difference: When viewing cherry blossoms...

• Aware might be the simple emotional response to their beauty

• Mono no aware would be the bittersweet appreciation of their beauty precisely because they are fleeting, combined with the recognition that this very impermanence is what makes them so meaningful in Japanese culture
  

Mushin

(MOO-SHE'N) refers to a mental state of complete focus and clarity, free from distractions and emotional turmoil. In English, we might consider that “flow.” Consider how you can use this to show your character at work or at play.

Sabi

(SAH-BEE) signifies age or loneliness. Use an image in your writing that expresses something aged or weathered with a hint of sadness because of being abandoned. A boarded-up building in a city, or an old barn in the countryside.

Wabi

(WAH-BEE) means poverty, but in your writing it can be used to express something that is a result of living simply. Consider a well-lived-in kitchen, a pair of frayed jeans, or a coffee table scarred by long use.

Wabi-sabi

Combining wabi and sabi brings us to the beauty of imperfection and impermanence. You can use this to express the feeling that a character has for an object that has been well-used or damaged in the past.

Yugen

A mysterious and profound beauty that cannot be fully expressed in words, often associated with a sense of deep emotion. Compare this to Hemingway’s idea that a story is like an iceberg; only part of it is visible above the surface. What lies beneath is yugen.

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Writing at the Speed of a Melting Popsicle

By Andi Kopek

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A popsicle.

A little girl is holding a popsicle in her hand. The color is red.

It’s so hot—so steaming hot—that the popsicle is dripping on her fingers, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t even notice it. She licks it innocently. The popsicle drips through one finger, then the next, down her little pinky, onto her clothes, and finally, the ground. She doesn’t mind.

Why are popsicles called popsicles? Pop-sicle. From icicle? But why POP-sicle? Why not sun- sicle? Or sweet-sickle? Or slash-sickle?

When I was a little boy, I didn’t eat popsicles. Maybe ice cream on a stick—but I didn’t like them. They dripped too quickly. Dripping again. It was unpleasant. Nasty. I don’t like mess.

When I was a child I liked eating brine cucumbers instead—from a big barrel with herbs. From a local store with vegetables. Zielona Budka it was called. The Green Hut. I forgot the name of the herb. The name of the herb. The herb. But the smell was so distinct. Summers weren’t this hot or humid then. Definitely not this humid. They were bearable.

But I couldn’t step into the stream that flowed near our house. A sign nailed to a small pine tree said “Do Not Enter.” There was always this thin black line on the banks—pollution. So strange, isn’t it? That rivers are polluted? Dill. It was dill.

Same with the Baltic Sea. You’d walk along the shore and see a thin line of oil—leaking from tankers, maybe. How much oil needs to spill to leave a line like that? Shorelines stretch endlessly. So it must be a massive amount. And yet it’s just… normal. There was no way to talk about it. No one raised it as a question. No one wanted to listen.

It seemed hopeless to raise this issue. Hopelessness was everywhere. And it’s what made me move. Made me search for something else—some place where hope exists.

Because a hopeless man can’t make a difference. That’s unbearable. And passion? You couldn’t express passion. If you had feelings, you had to bury them. And you’d be dead. Had no feelings? How can you live without feelings? Also dead. Either way—passion or apathy—you were dead. So I looked for a place where you might feel alive. Really alive. And I moved.

And when I found it—disappointment. Because people are the same. Buildings are, pretty much, the same. At least similar. Some things differ, but at the core, no real changes. It was rather surprising. And disappointing.

No matter where you live, this side of the pond, or the other, this continent or that—people behave the same. Systems differ, sure. Maybe there’s more of one thing here, less of another there. But manipulation is the same. The desire to control others, the masses? The same.

Maybe there once were tribes, cultures, societies driven by different values. Not just different beliefs—different internal forces. Not focused on profit, progress, goals. But they’re gone.

Crushed. At least, they’re no longer the dominant force.

Put a peaceful person in a room with someone okay with killing… Guess who survives? The second one doesn’t blink and pulls the trigger. No hesitation. And no guilt afterward. No guilt afterward is terrifying. Can give me nightmares. That’s how people with high morality die.

That’s how reflective people disappear. That’s how good people don’t survive. Because the ones willing to negotiate, to coexist, to cooperate… by definition, they are always at a disadvantage. The ones who don’t care about destroying them? They win.

That’s how the world is skewed. And that balance? It will never be restored. Never existed. The imbalance repeats itself. One generation to the next. Until the skew becomes so extreme that people go mad and destroy each other. And justify it, of course. And then the remaining few start the cycle again.

That’s the story of human life on this planet. It’s so short. And so cyclic. We pride ourselves on our “progress.” We love talking about how our societies have “evolved.” But if you study history carefully, you’ll see, nothing is new.

We just forgot. We forget. We forget. We forget and repeat. Amnesia is built into the system. Everything from the past returns—distorted. A ghost, shifting form, always changing. We think we know it. But we don’t. We think we learn from history. But we don’t. And even if we do—it means nothing. We can’t or don’t want to act on it. Well, the ones who want, usually don’t have enough power. And if they make a change, it is rather short lived. Because of the nature of man.

So how do you enjoy life, knowing this? Knowing that we don’t learn? Knowing that goodness is always at a disadvantage? How do you live like that?

Maybe…

Maybe we just start with a popsicle. On a hot, humid, sunny August day.

At a brewery where kids run around and play…

Author’s Note

This piece was created using a stream-of-consciousness technique, beginning with a real observation of a child holding a melting popsicle at a local brewery during this summer’s extreme heat. Because my writing speed lags substantially behind the pace of my thoughts, I decided to record them instead—capturing this internal monologue as it unfolded. It was recorded on an iPhone 13Pro Max using the Voice Memos app, transcribed via Otter.ai, and lightly edited for readability.

As both a neuroscientist and writer, I’m fascinated by stream-of-consciousness as a way of capturing thought in its raw, unfiltered form—before logic and language shape it. Writers like Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, and Clarice Lispector explored this terrain, but the tone and emotional cadence of this piece are perhaps closest to the style of Thomas Bernhard. The process felt amazing, like creating in a fascinating, improvisational way, as if the thoughts were composing themselves in real time.

Final thought: One of my previous columns explored writer’s block. The stream-of- consciousness approach can be a powerful antidote for the block, allowing creativity to freeflow.

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his monthly art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – The Pursuit of Happiness with Lemons, Ink, and Fireworks

By Andi Kopek

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Since I’ve been living in the United States, July has taken on a particular kind of symbolism. It's loud, bright, and laced with bold declarations. Fireworks blossom in the sky like punctuation marks over phrases such as “liberty” and “freedom.”

On July 4th, 1776, the Second Continental Congress ratified the final text of the Declaration of Independence, primarily authored by Thomas Jefferson. It wasn’t the start of the war (that had begun a year earlier), nor was it the end (which would come in 1783). But it was, the ideological birth certificate of a new nation. One that had cut the umbilical cord to the British Empire and declared its intention to govern itself.

A bold move. A fresh myth. A country born, literally, from the sentence. And what a sentence it was:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal... endowed with certain unalienable Rights… among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

It’s hard not to feel something when you hear those words—especially if, like me, you grew up in a country where such phrases would have been edited out of existence by the morning censors.

Fireworks and Ghosts

Growing up in so-called communist Poland, “independence” wasn’t a holiday. It was a hope, whispered between trusted friends, unless you preferred the seclusion of solitary confinement or an endless winter in Siberia. “Freedom” wasn’t declared. It was encoded. We didn’t have parades of liberty—we had a quiet choreography of caution. You learned early to read between the lines, because that’s where the real story lived.

So every year, when July rolls around in my new home, and the sky explodes with stars and stripes, I can’t help but feel... something tangled. Gratitude, yes. Awe, sometimes. But also, a sense of skepticism. A question humming under the national anthem:

Are we truly free? Are we truly independent?

Especially as writers—as creators of meaning, challengers of narratives, recorders of the soul’s strange movements—what do these words actually mean?

Freedom vs. Independence vs. The Editor in Your Head

Let’s make a distinction.

• Freedom is a state of possibility.

• Independence is a stance—an insistence that you don’t owe your truth to anyone else’s permission.

• And auto-censorship? That’s when you stop yourself before anyone else does.

I see more and more of this creeping into American discourse. It’s subtle, often self-imposed. It wears the costume of politeness, professionalism, marketability. Often with an underpinning of fear.

Some examples:

• A writer won’t publish a story that’s too dark, too weird, or too political—because they “don’t want to get canceled.”

• A teacher won’t assign a novel that shaped them—because it might be challenged at the school board.

• A memoirist waters down the truth to make it more palatable, more “brand-friendly.”

These aren’t laws. They’re suggestions. A mandatory appendix. Ingrained mechanisms of survival in a culture of performance scores and surveillance. You stop yourself—not because you were censored, but because you feared the potential consequences.

Sound familiar?

Auto-censorship—the ugly twin of state censorship—is often harder to fight, because the gatekeeper lives inside you.

Lemons and Invisible Ink

But here’s the paradox. Here’s the secret silver lining.

In Poland, under an oppressive regime, some of the most brilliant, impactful writing of the 20th century was created. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t explicit. It was disguised. Dressed in metaphor.

Hidden behind allegory. Written, in essence, with invisible ink.

(And in case you forgot: invisible ink can be made from lemon juice.)

Poets, playwrights, novelists—they all became alchemists of subtlety. They learned how to camouflage universal truths in narratives that passed the censors. But readers knew. They always knew. Because real truth, even disguised, leaves fingerprints on the soul.

So yes, the world today is full of pressure—external and internal—to conform, to smooth the edges, to silence complexity. But as a writer, you are not helpless in the face of that. In fact, you may be even more powerful. Because restrictions can sharpen clarity, and fear, when transmuted, can become a lens.

Beyond the Pursuit of Happiness

Let me end where the Declaration began—with that shimmering phrase: “the pursuit of happiness.”

What does that mean for a writer? Not much.

I believe that writing isn’t a pursuit of happiness. It’s the embrace of discomfort, the dance with uncertainty, the slow unearthing of truths most people are too polite to mention. And if you do it right—if you do it with courage and cunning—you don’t just entertain. You preserve. You inspire. You leave something behind.

So this July, while the sky narrates independence in bursts of color, I raise a pen—not in pursuit of happiness, but in allegiance to something deeper:

The fulfillment in camouflaging permanent, universal truths for the generations to come.

A legacy not shouted, but planted. A voice not loud, but built to last.

So go collect your lemons. Write between the lines.

Never compromise.

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his monthly art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

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Repetitive Strain Injuries (RSIs) and How to Avoid Them

By Mary Lynn Cloghesy and Jason Schembri

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All it took was a simple up-and-down stroke of a paintbrush over a couple hours, and my shoulder screamed. Nerve pain shot down the back of my neck, and I dropped the tool. Holding my breath, I coaxed the joint to loosen by rotating my shoulder blade. After stirring the synovial fluid, I picked up the implement again, but my fingers went numb, and I instinctively dropped it. Project terminated. Had the wall suddenly outgrown my reach, or did the implement become weighted beyond what I could sustain? No. I had a Repetitive Strain Injury (RSI), where the soft tissue “recognized” the movement pattern as dangerous, years after a rotator cuff injury had healed. My fascia (connective tissue) seized to support the joint as if the trauma were new. 

Repetitive Strain Injuries (RSIs) are a common source of pain for writers, but they can be avoided or mitigated by bringing your attention to the root causes. In this series on healthy living, we’ve discussed a number of topics, including Upper and Lower Cross Syndrome. When thinking about RSIs, it’s important to familiarize yourself with these conditions and their remedies, as RSIs relate to latent disease or dysfunction in the body. They are based in existing and/or recurrent movement patterns (or the lack thereof). Once you understand what RSIs are and their classifications, you can begin to position yourself—literally—to stave off any future difficulties. Author Neil Gaiman has said, “I found myself getting tendonitis in my wrist... I started writing longhand again, with fountain pens, because it slowed me down and was gentler on my hands” (Interview with The Guardian, 2013).

Definition and Classifications of RSIs

Any injury that affects the fascial system (soft connective tissue throughout the body), as well as muscles, nerves and joints, causing persistent and/or pathological pain, mainly in the neck, shoulders, forearms, hands, wrists, elbows and lower limbs, is considered an RSI. 

There are three types of RSIs:

• Rapid movement injuries: These types of injuries relate to small or micromovements that are quick and recurrent. Think of a stylist cutting hair. The snipping action of the scissors over time could cause inflammation in the tendons of the hand and wrist, leading to Carpel Tunnel Syndrome if untreated. For writers, the constant tapping of keystrokes is a risk factor. In fact, the term “writer’s cramp,” was coined in the mid-1800s to refer to the abnormal contraction of hand muscles after holding a quill or dip pen for hours.

• Forceful movement injuries: RSIs of this nature are associated with physical labour, caused by powerful muscle movement over time. Someone working at a warehouse, who lifts heavy boxes all day, would need to be to be trained in healthy movement and be aware of their level of fatigue to avoid torsion (twisting) and overload (straining) injuries. This is not typically a problem for writers unless special conditions apply. For example, if an author is loading or unloading books at a conference.

• Static loading injuries: The most prevalent cause of RSIs is fixed positioning by unsupported limbs, which is where our previous articles on Upper and Lower Cross Syndrome come into play. When writers are penning new pieces, they often sit for long periods of time, but in order to hold a static position, certain muscle groups—like those in the lower back, neck, hips, and thighs—stay under continuous low-level contraction. Over time, this can lead to:

• Lower back pain from spinal compression and inactive core muscles

• Hip flexor dysfunction and imbalance from constant flexion

• Neck and shoulder tension from leaning forward or looking down

In addition, writers may experience more than one RSI at a time, compounding the problem. When discomfort or pain arises, a writer may compensate through movements that cause other strain injuries too. For example, pain in the wrists or hands can radiate or refer to the forearms and shoulders.

Warning Signs of RSIs

There are many medical conditions related to RSIs, but rather than overwhelm you with complicated names and jargon, we believe it’s more beneficial for you to recognize the warning signs applicable to writers. Sensations can range from “a sense of discomfort” to “excruciating pain.” Of course, we recommend cultivating an awareness of what’s happening long before your tolerance is exceeded:

• Pain that worsens with repetition (e.g. typing, gripping, writing)

• Pain that improves with rest but returns when you resume the task

• Tingling or numbness, especially in the fingers or wrists

• Stiffness, cramping, or loss of flexibility (with possible swelling)

• Burning sensations in tendons or muscles

• Sensitivity to cold or touch

• Wasting of the muscles at the base of the thumb

How to Avoid or Overcome RSIs

As with most medical conditions, early intervention is critical. By recognizing an RSI before it becomes unmanageable, you’ll not only protect your health, but also maximize your creative output and avoid interruptions to your work. Writers dealing with RSIs can still maintain a productive and even pain-free life by integrating several strategies, often simultaneously. Here are some proven tools and techniques to try:

Ergonomic Practices:

• Adjust Your Chair and/or Desk Height: Elbows should be at a 90° angle with wrists soft and neutral. When sitting, your feet should rest fully flat without reaching. Alternatively, write standing up as Ernest Hemingway famously did. He used a bookshelf with a typewriter on top, but there are adjustable desks now. 

• Use a Split or Ergonomic Keyboard: A curved keyboard reduces wrist deviation and tension. If you prefer, you could choose a lower-force or mechanical keyboard that reduces the force required for each stroke, a tilted keyboard (negative tilt away from you is best for wrists), or touch-typing aids.

• Consider a Vertical Mouse or Trackpad: These innovations prevent forearm twisting and strain. Variations include a trackball mouse, and external touchpad, plus keyboard shortcuts. 

 Alternative Writing Methods:

• Voice Recognition Software: Dictation allows you to write hands-free and can be surprisingly fast. (i.e. Dragon NaturallySpeaking, Windows Speech Recognition, or Google Docs Voice Typing.) 

• Writing Longhand: Some writers, like Neil Gaiman and Donna Tartt, find relief writing by hand with fountain pens, which require less pressure. Pen tablets for stylus typing  is an alternative that avoids or reduces the key strike motion. 

• Typing Breaks & Intervals: Follow the Pomodoro Technique (25 mins work, 5 mins rest) or the 20-20-20 Rule for eyes and posture, meaning every twenty minutes, look twenty feet away for 20 seconds. 

Physical Therapies:

• Stretching & Strengthening: Take full movement breaks at least every three hours. Start with major muscle groups (arms, legs), then add fine-motor movements in the wrists, shoulders, and forearms. Do not pull on tight or sore muscles, instead coax them to soften by using nonlinear movements such as rotations or even a shaking motion. If you are experienced in certain modalities (i.e. yoga or Pilates) add a session into your workday if possible. 

• Chiropractic, Massage or other Manual Modalities: You can reduce inflammation and realign tension points by seeing a qualified practitioner. They usually develop a custom movement protocol that you can integrate into your schedule. Also, cold and heat therapy can be helpful as the combination will alleviate swelling, relax muscles, and decrease recovery time. 

• Mindfulness Practices: One of the most powerful interventions is awareness. Try mindfulness practices while you work such as a body scanning exercise, where you tune into the different parts of your body and consciously release any tension in the area as you breath out. Diaphragmatic (belly) breathing can be particularly beneficial as the dome of the diaphragm intersects the muscles involved in both upper cross and lower cross syndrome. To learn the technique, search for apps like Breathwrk, Calm or Insight Timer, or Prana Breath. 

Top Tip for Healthy Living

Our top tip for healthy living is to avoid working through the pain. While we’ve all heard the expression, “no pain, no gain,” that doesn’t apply to RSIs because any sustained action after a clear warning sign will lead to greater injury. When you feel the symptoms associated with RSIs, stop and evaluate, like I did with the paintbrush. Did I push it to try and finish the task at hand? Only for a moment. Where did it get me? A visit to the chiropractor and an acupuncturist more than once over the course of two weeks. The good news is the task, and my paintbrush were waiting for me when I recovered. Job done. Pain free.

When a Rejection Isn’t Really a Rejection

By Lois Winston

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The unicorn of publishing occurs when an author with her first book immediately gets an agent, then scores a six-figure, multi-book deal, all within a few weeks. For the rest of us, it can take anywhere from years to decades. During that time, we deal with too many people telling us our baby is butt ugly (although hopefully, not in such harsh words).

As much as we try to develop Teflon-coated skin to keep the rejections from getting to us, it’s not easy. Our emotional awareness is one of our writing superpowers. We not only often cry while reading certain scenes in books or watching them in movies or TV shows, but we’ve even been known to shed more than a tear or two while writing a poignant scene. That same heightened sense of emotion is what makes it difficult for us to deal with rejections.

However, publishing is a tough business. It’s run by bean counters who are always looking at the bottom line. Finding an editor who loves your book is only the first step in selling your book. Few editors have the power to make unilateral decisions. They need to convince others at the publishing house that your book is worthy of a contract.

The truth about this profession we’ve chosen is that you WILL get rejected because everyone gets rejected, even bestselling authors, even the unicorn author when her unicorn book doesn’t live up to its hype and earn out that mega-advance.

If you can’t deal with rejection, you have two choices: you can toughen up, or you can save yourself the heartache by quitting before those rejection letters start filling your inbox.

When I started writing, no one told me the publishing facts of life. By the time I discovered the odds were stacked against me, I’d been infected by the writing bug and couldn’t stop writing. If you HAVE to write, if writing is as much a part of you as eating, sleeping, and breathing, keep writing.

In the beginning, I received my share of form rejection letters. The worst was a 1/2” x 1” rubber stamped NOT FOR US at the top of my query letter, which was shoved back into my SASE. I wondered if I was a glutton for punishment or simply delusional, but I couldn’t stop writing.

One day I found myself with three agents interested in the same manuscript. I chose the agent who rose at 6am on a Sunday morning to call from Hawaii where she was attending a conference. I figured if she was that eager to land me as a client, she’d be as aggressive about selling my work.

Little did either of us realize how long it would take to convince the publishing world of my talent. Most agents cut a client loose after a year or two of not being able to sell their work. Mine stuck with me. Her faith in my writing kept me writing through years of rejections. When you have a professional who believes in you that much, you don’t give up on your dreams. (Family doesn’t count. They’re supposed to love and believe in you).

Having an agent meant I no longer received form rejection letters. Editors took the time to highlight what they liked about each book but also why they were rejecting it. This was how I learned that sometimes a book is rejected for purely business reasons and has nothing to do with the quality of the author’s writing.

But here’s another truth about publishing: sometimes writers sabotage themselves. Although editors will tell an agent why a book was rejected, they rarely give specific information to unagented writers. If an agent or editor takes the time to outline her reasons for rejecting your manuscript, file that rejection away at your own risk.

After you’ve stomped around the house, ranted about the unfairness of life, called your critique group to cry on their collective shoulders, eaten way too much chocolate, and washed it down with too many glasses of wine, stop whining and get to work. Because that rejection isn’t a rejection; it’s a rejection for now. And there’s a big difference.

If an agent or editor explains why your book is being rejected and what you need to do to revise it, she’s telling you she’s open to you resubmitting that manuscript to her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t bother. She’d simply reject with a standard thank you for submitting (fill in the book’s title) but a) this isn’t right for us b) we already have an author writing similar books or c) we’ve already filled our list of (fill in the genre) for this year.

Settle your tush in your chair, place your fingers on the keyboard, and start revising that manuscript. Don’t take forever, though. The agent or editor doesn’t expect a one-week turnaround, but there’s an expiration date on that offer of resubmission. Wait too long, and by the time you send it back to her, she may have already found a similar author or book.

Even if you send your revised manuscript to the editor in a reasonable amount of time, you still might receive a rejection if she can’t get approval to offer you a contract. If that happens, it’s not the end of the world. You now have a much better manuscript to send off to other agents or editors. And who knows? You might wind up with a better offer.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. She also worked for twelve years as an associate at a literary agency. Her most recent release is Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the fourteenth book in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series. Join her at this year’s Killer Nashville banquet where she’ll be the Keynote Speaker and divulge the other clues she got along the way to becoming a published author. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Why Cops Yell Sometimes—The OODA Loop Phenomenon

By D.L. Williams

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Years ago, my partner and I were on a nightly patrol of an old hotel in the downtown district. The hotel had once been luxurious, a place for celebrities and politicians to rub shoulders, for honeymooners to spend their first night of marriage, or a swanky place you might take a business companion. 

The hotel had gone bankrupt a few years earlier, and it had deteriorated into a haven for drug deals, sexual assaults, vandalism, and actual satanic rituals. We were under orders to patrol the place at least once a night. This was not an easy assignment because the hotel didn’t have electricity, there was broken glass everywhere, and often there were people generally up to no good skulking about. The hotel was five stories, and each level had to be searched room-to-room for the patrol to be considered successful. 

That night we had made it to a parking platform on the top of the building. It was summer, and we were glad to be back out in fresh and comparatively cooler air. We were catching our breath and about to make the long walk back down dark stairs when we heard voices ascending from below us. The voices were whispering, and given the circumstances, we can’t be judged too harshly for thinking those whispers were conspiratorial. 

The sources of the voices were just about to the top level, still shadowed but we could make out human forms. Both of us yelled, “Show me your hands!” 

Yelps and calls for one of their mothers echoed off the concrete walls and pillars. A twenty-something coed burst into tears, and her college boyfriend looked like he was about to leave her there and run for dear life in the half-second between our yells and his fight or flight response kicking in. 

Honestly, our yelling was over the top, and I felt bad for frightening them. To be fair, they had passed six No Trespassing signs on the way up, but they were on more of a lark than out to perform some insidious act. If you kids are reading this now, some two decades later, I apologize. 

Cops yell sometimes. It doesn’t matter if they’re real-life officers or those we see in film; yelling occurs, especially during high-risk high-stress scenarios. It’s rude, poor “bedside manner,” and not super nice, but there are reasons for it. I’m not here to make excuses, but writers should understand some of the dynamics when they’re writing mysteries and thrillers. 

One reason could simply be the guy is having a bad day, and he’s taking out his frustrations on others. That, of course, isn’t acceptable, and my expectation is that all officers always act professionally and politely when dealing with those they’ve sworn to serve. We’re human, and sometimes we will screw up, but professionalism is always the objective standard.

A more important reason has to do with a particular aspect of police officer and military training called the OODA Loop. It’s a fascinating bit of psychology, and one that is now routinely taught at police academies and professional development training for veteran officers.  The OODA Loop is a concept adopted by the military in the 1950s and later by police trainers around the country. It’s standard fare at police academies, and it is practiced for days on end while cadets learn how to do building searches and perform high-threat felony arrests.

 OODA stands for Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. We all do OODA multiple times a day, whether that be sizing up a salesman, managing our children, dealing with a difficult boss, or asking someone out on a date. In simple terms, we humans look at what’s going on, find the rhythm and orient to the situation, identify the best possible choice (hopefully) given the circumstances, and perform whatever action our brain decides to take. 

OODA processing is imperfect. We don’t always hit the baseball, we blurt out the wrong thing in an argument, and we spend more money and time than we’d planned in a casino. Thus, the concept of OODA in police work is to support good acts while simultaneously disrupting negative decision-making.

Let’s say you have a store owner arguing with a customer, and employees dial 911 because it looks like there might be violence. Two officers arrive, and each takes one of the would-be combatants some distance apart to get their side of the story. The customer settles down quickly, but the store owner is incensed and keeps trying to get around the officer to re-confront the customer. 

Telling the store owner to calm down is rarely effective. He’s stuck in a negative OODA Loop, and his brain can’t catch up to let him know his actions leaning toward violence are based on a bad decision. In OODA parlance, the officer needs to interrupt the loop just long enough so that the store owner can start making rational decisions again. 

An example of this would be for the officer to remark positively on some aspect of the store. Let’s say the store owner sells gnome figurines. The officer could say something nice about one of the little statues in an open-ended way: “My wife sure does love gnomes. Maybe I’ll bring her by sometime.”

Hopefully, the store owner’s OODA processing just curved out of the established pattern. He has to think of a response, please a potential new customer, and emotionally—even for an instant—leave the anger loop. Now the store owner has time to re-observe and re-orient, and the conditions for a non-violent, low-drama outcome blossom. 

OODA Loop training in police circles also involves interrupting the process in potentially life-threatening situations. Think of a puma about to spring on a rabbit concentrated on a succulent blade of grass. The rabbit is unaware of the predator lurking on a branch just above, and the puma emits a primal scream as it springs from the tree. That scream interrupts the prey’s OODA Loop, disrupting the bunny’s natural flight response long enough for the big cat to make the kill. 

This is not unlike a loud kiai yell used by martial artists or howls from soldiers as they attack on the battlefield. The guttural bellow is designed to interrupt the OODA process for the opponent, granting a fraction of a second advantage for the attacker. This is also why cops are trained to yell things like, “Get on the ground!” or “Show me your hands!” during moments of heightened danger. 

This is reasonable to a point. Our voices can be used with the effect of a leather whip cracking the air, at once stunning and distracting. It can be too much, however. Four officers all yelling different commands will upend the OODA Loop of a potentially violent person, leading to so much fear and confusion that the person of interest unleashes the fury and terror on the officers. Using OODA Loop tactics, like any form of communication, is best done artfully and with a positive outcome as the end goal.

OODA tactics come into sharper focus the higher the stakes. Let’s examine a scenario in which narcotics officers have secured a search warrant for a meth lab being run out of a house. The occupants are known to have weapons, as well as training in how to use them, and they are convicted, violent felons. The prevailing wisdom amongst those who know the occupants is that they will not go peacefully. Thus, serving this warrant is probably best accomplished using a Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) team. 

To be clear, jurisdictions refer to such teams with different names (e.g., Emergency Response Team, Tactical Team, etc.), but I’m using the colloquial term most people have heard. I was a tactical medic for federal, city, and county SWAT teams for five years during my career. My position at the back of the “stack” (police term for how such teams enter a home in tactical formation) allowed me to observe all the action and be in on the planning phases. It was an adrenaline-filled time in my life. I don’t have any desire to do it again, but I’m glad to have had the experience. (Note: I plan to talk in more detail about SWAT teams in a future column.)

Consider the OODA Loop of those inside the meth house. Their orientation is centered on being alert to police coming to arrest them. Perhaps one of them observes shadows and sounds outside the home that make him think the police have arrived. The decision might be to pick up a firearm and aim it at those officers, and the action would be to destroy them with gunfire. 

Officers must do something to interrupt that thought pattern. One way to do this is to establish a dialogue, either through a phone call or by calling out to those inside to “come out with your hands up.” This is, by far, the most successful and most used tactic, but there were times when that was deemed tactically unsafe and ineffective. 

Oftentimes, this meant the team would deploy a “flashbang,” a type of grenade that emits white hot light and a loud bang when thrown, but without blasting deadly shrapnel when it explodes. The idea of a flashbang is to render those inside a dangerous structure momentarily stunned, giving the team a few seconds to enter the house and arrest those inside. 

I know this sounds over-the-top violent to some of you, but I’ve seen this tactic successfully deployed a number of times. This is classic OODA Loop interruption. The people inside the home have a mindset to defend the “castle,” and the police team outside uses a loud noise and bright light to interrupt that thought process long enough to make the breach and make the scene safe. I’ve written and spoken before on the very valid concerns of many citizens that “no-knock” warrants can be more destructive than helpful, but there are times when the folks officers are going to arrest are armed to the teeth and willing to kill anyone who tries to stop them from perpetrating insidious crimes. The “No-Knock Warrant” conversation is another one for a future column, and it’s a doozie. 

OODA Loop tactics have a lasting place in policing, and versions are incorporated into most violence prevention training programs currently delivered to cadets and veterans. Like any other tool, such tactics can be improperly used, which is why I will always stress the need for ongoing training and evaluation of every officer in the field.

Try re-framing an OODA Loop next time you’re dealing with a cranky person. Call attention to something you know they are proud of or that makes them happy, doing so with no ulterior motive attached and no yelling. I’ll bet it helps you both have a better day. And if you’re a tired and out-of-breath cop on the beat, having a better day is a touchdown. Onward.

The Unreliable Narrator: How to Heighten Suspense and Keep Readers Guessing in Psychological Thrillers

By Carol Willis

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One of the most powerful tools in a psychological thriller is the unreliable narrator—a character whose perception, memory, or understanding of reality is compromised. This technique pulls readers deep into the mind of the protagonist while simultaneously keeping them at a distance, sowing doubt and suspicion. When done well, it heightens tension and fuels page-turning suspense.

In psychological thrillers, the unreliable narrator isn't just a stylistic choice—it's a structural engine. First-person narration lets readers experience the character’s inner turmoil, but what happens when that narrator cannot be trusted? Whether the cause is head trauma, substance abuse, mental illness, or sheer denial, the effect is the same: uncertainty. 

And uncertainty is the lifeblood of suspense.

What Makes a Narrator Unreliable?

Unreliable narrators are those whose version of the story is distorted by deception, delusion, or impairment. Some lie deliberately; others mislead unintentionally due to mental illness or altered states of consciousness. In psychological thrillers, the latter are especially compelling. These narrators believe what they say and yet the reader comes to understand that what they believe may not be true.

Let’s take a closer look at how several authors, Annie Ward in Beautiful Bad (2018), Tana French in The Witch Elm (2018), and Imran Mahmood in I Know What I Saw (20210) use head trauma, addiction, and psychological instability to create deeply unreliable perspectives that drive suspense and emotional tension.

Head Trauma as a Narrative Device

Set in the American Midwest, Annie Ward’s Beautiful Bad is a tightly constructed domestic psychological thriller centered on Maddie, a devoted wife and mother, her war-scarred husband, and their young son. As is typical of the genre, nothing is as it seems: buried secrets and simmering tension culminate in a shocking murder. During a camping trip, Maddie suffers a traumatic brain injury that leaves her memory fragmented. Much of the novel hinges on her attempts to piece together what really happened. Ward structures the story through short, staccato chapters and a nonlinear timeline that mirror Maddie’s cognitive disorientation. She also weaves in her husband’s PTSD and alcoholism, which amplify the emotional instability and deepen the atmosphere of dread. Readers are drawn into a fog of partial memories and unreliable perceptions, forced to navigate Maddie’s fractured psyche in search of the truth.

Tana French’s standalone psychological suspense, The Witch Elm offers a more introspective, character-driven psychological thriller, where trauma fractures not only memory but identity. Toby, a privileged and affable young man, survives a brutal home invasion that leaves him with a severe head injury and a lingering sense of cognitive instability. As he retreats to his family’s ancestral home to recover, a skull is discovered in the garden, triggering both a police investigation and a deeper unraveling within Toby himself. French masterfully entwines the external mystery with the internal one: who was Toby before the attack, and can he trust the person he is now? The narrative blurs the line between guilt and innocence, perception and denial. Toby’s unreliable memory becomes the novel’s engine of suspense, compelling readers to question not only what happened, but whether Toby himself might be capable of violence he can no longer remember.

Imran Mahmood’s I Know What I Saw (2021) offers another powerful example of how head trauma can fracture both memory and identity. The narrator, Xander Shute, is a once-successful barrister now living on the streets of London. When he accidentally witnesses a murder in what he believes is a break-in gone wrong, he reports it only to be told by police that no such crime occurred, and the apartment is occupied by a completely different couple. What follows is a tense unraveling of Xander’s mind. His past trauma, mental health struggles, and head injuries blur the line between what he remembers and what may have never happened at all. Mahmood uses fragmented memories, dreamlike logic, and time slippage to keep the reader guessing: Is Xander witnessing a conspiracy, or is he caught in the spiraling aftermath of untreated trauma? His voice is sharp, intelligent, and self-aware. Yet the more he insists on what he saw, the more readers question whether they should believe him.

Other Forms of Unreliability

Substance abuse is another common and highly effective device in thrillers. Alcoholism and drug addiction introduce uncertainty, distortion, and mistrust—the perfect ingredients for narrative suspense. These altered states skew perception, bend time, and create memory gaps that leave both the character and the reader struggling to connect the dots. In Paula Hawkins’s The Girl on the Train (2015), for example, blackouts erase entire chunks of the protagonist’s experience. The narrator becomes both detective and suspect, trying to solve a mystery she might have unwittingly caused.

Mental illness—especially dissociation, anxiety, and PTSD—can also destabilize a narrator’s grasp on reality. A character may be telling the truth as they see it, but that version of events is filtered through trauma, fear, or delusion. These internal fractures not only add emotional complexity but also keep readers questioning what’s real, and what’s imagined.

Why It Works

Unreliable narrators heighten suspense by withholding clarity. In a genre driven by twists and revelations, these characters provide fertile ground for ambiguity. The reader doesn’t simply ask, "What will happen?" but, more compellingly, "What is really going on?"

Unlike thrillers that rely solely on external threats, psychological thrillers with unreliable narrators turn the narrative inward. They make the protagonist’s mind the true battleground. The suspense comes not only from what the character might do, but from whether they even know what they are capable of.

For Writers: Using Unreliability to Build Suspense

Start with character: What might your protagonist be unwilling or unable to see clearly? Consider layering trauma, denial, or dependence on substances to introduce narrative distortion.

Use memory loss or selective recall to reveal truths in increments. Structure scenes around flashbacks, contradictions, or moments where the narrator second-guesses themselves. Let your setting mirror the character’s instability—fog, rain, locked rooms, or chaotic domestic spaces can reinforce psychological disarray.

And most importantly, root the unreliability in emotional truth. Readers don’t need to trust your narrator to follow them—they just need to believe in their struggle. Suspense thrives in this space between belief and doubt.

Police and Bribes

By D.L. Williams

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Chances are you’re going to write about a dirty cop if you are penning mystery or thriller stories. Graft is, heartbreakingly, an ugly reality of police work, and it certainly merits attention from mystery and thriller writers. We write conflict, after all, and there are few things more controversial than a cop willing to take a bribe. 

In my honest and broad experience, corrupt cops are in the significant minority. Most officers are conscientious, ethical people who do good work, but some cops are worse than a suspicious rectal polyp. Taking dishonest officers to task through your writing is one way to fight against corruption, so I encourage you to dive in. Let’s talk about it.

When I was twelve years old, I secretly borrowed a book off my father’s shelf. The story I chose was entitled Serpico, a decidedly R-rated book, not intended for juvenile audiences. Dad didn’t realize for years I’d read that book. Alas, it changed my life.

Serpico is the story of a real police officer by the name of Francesco Vincent Serpico who worked in New York City during the 1960s and ‘70s. NYPD was awash in corruption during that period, and Serpico rose to fame by his refusal to ever take a bribe or even a free meal at a diner. His colleagues distrusted him because he wouldn’t play along, and this led to him being set up for murder by fellow officers. He survived, through the bullet that blasted his skull hastened the end of his career.

I was mesmerized, and I admired Serpico’s courage so much I decided before turning the last page that I would one day be an honest cop. He is the reason I went into police work, and I hope I’ve done honor to his legacy. 

I don’t know a single officer on the job for more than a few months who hasn’t been offered some type of bribe. This is anathema to the honorable spirit of professional policing, but the offers do come. Over the years I’ve been offered piles of money, sex, concert tickets, and cars. On one occasion, a fellow I’d arrested for driving while intoxicated offered me a villa complete with a maid and lovely garden in Mexico, my name free and clear on the title, if I’d let him out of my squad car and let him walk home. 

Turned out he had plenty of money to do that, and he really did own a little house on some acreage south of the border. It was his sixth arrest for DWI. The judge had told him he’d go to prison if he ever got caught driving drunk again the last time he was in trouble. He was terrified of going to the actual “big house,” and I think he would have gnawed through the inside of my squad car if he thought he could escape custody. I’ve occasionally wondered about that little house, but I never considered taking him up on the offer. 

The first time I was ever offered a bribe was during the traffic stop of a middle-aged Hispanic man driving an old pickup truck. I can’t recall why I stopped him, but I have a vivid memory of him holding a $100 bill in his left hand as I approached the driver’s side. The message was clear: take the money and leave me alone. 

I’d venture to guess that one-hundred-dollar bill was about the only money he had in the world, probably his payment for days of labor. He was shaking in fear, and I felt sad that he believed his first action upon being stopped should be to bribe an officer. How pitiful that a laborer just trying to feed his family was so panicked about being pulled over by a cop that he offered me his grocery money. I gave him a warning and sent him on his way. 

Two weeks later, a patrol officer working in an adjacent town just north of where I’d pulled over that laborer was arrested for taking a bribe. The State Police had gotten wind that he was shaking down Mexican workers for cash, so they set up a sting with Hispanic officers dressed like farm workers driving battered pickup trucks. The crooked officer took the bait and went to jail. Fantastic! 

Which makes me wonder if that fellow I stopped had already heard about the corrupt officer working that area and assumed I was in on it. Corrupt officers harm us. They make good officers look bad in the eyes of the very people who need their help most of all. 

Sex is also offered more often than you might imagine. I lost count of the number of times a woman (and every so often a man) suggested coyly, “Is there anything I can do [to avoid arrest or citation]? Some were even more overt, casually offering variations of sex if I would let them go. 

For the record, no. 

Temptation is always lurking around the next traffic stop, and I’m not so naïve that I don’t realize some officers cave. I can simultaneously understand why and scorn them for it. Lust and greed are listed among the deadly sins for a reason, and weakness exists even among the toughest out there. 

Corruption in police circles tends to start on the low end of the sinister spectrum. Maybe it’s taking the offer of free food at a restaurant or accepting access to a private hunting lease for the weekend in exchange for letting a speeding motorist off with a warning. 

You could say, “No big deal,” but it is. Those freebies are like a gateway drug, and at some point, the officer who took one “hit” will rationalize doing it again. 

Humans must be the best animal on the planet for rationalizing acts we know to be wrong. We can talk ourselves out of going to the gym two weeks after the newest round of New Year’s resolutions. We can justify that second piece of cake or that “just one more” drink. One of the things we’re best at legitimizing is taking something that doesn’t belong to us.

This is especially true when someone is in financial straits. Those credit card bills keep mounting, the mortgage and car payments are overdue, your kid had to go to the ER last month, and the after-insurance invoice is a whopper. Desperation is the destroyer of ethics, especially when it comes to money.

Corruption among police officers is analogous to the dynamics of white-collar fraud. Those cases always involve three elements: Access, trust, and an ability to rationalize a deed unworthy of that trust. A hedge fund manager who embezzles from his clients has access to the funds, the trust of his clients, and an ethical platform built on dry sand. 

The same holds true for officers who take bribes. They have access to a person who can provide something they need or want such as cash, sex, or entry into a lifestyle they only imagined before. They have the general trust of the public and supervisors. And, if they have turned to the proverbial dark side, they’re able to justify their actions so they don’t feel like the dirty cop they’ve become. 

Cops aren’t paid what they’re worth relative to exposure to danger, the job requirement that they make critical decisions for strangers based on inadequate information, the hate they endure on a daily basis, and all the PTSD-inducing moments they experience over the course of a career. Here’s the thing; they know they’re not paid what they’re worth, and this starts to chafe souls after a while. It’s a great career, and I am so glad I was able to do it, but I never believed my fellow officers and I were being paid for the true value of our work. 

This sense of being undervalued creates a danger zone; cops grind their teeth and lose sleep over bills, all while knowing they’ll suit up and jump back into a societal fire for which society will never truly appreciate them. It gnaws on some officers, bending their morality until they can no longer remember that they swore to protect and serve the public, and that they vowed to do so in an honorable fashion. 

Think of all the emotions you would experience if you were driven to shoplift. Shame comes to mind, but so does the thrill of being naughty. Add to that a sense of indignation: “They should have hired more security guards…added more surveillance cameras…not placed something so valuable right by the exit doors. Shame on them.” 

It’s the embezzlement triad all over again: Access (not enough security precautions and a thing of value placed where it can easily be stolen), the basic trust every store operator must have for customers, and rationalization of the act (e.g., “That company is so big, they factor in petty theft to their bottom line.”) 

Writers shouldn’t defend corrupt officers, but knowing how and why such bad acts occur should be part of your creative palette. Perhaps your dirty cop wasn’t always corrupt. Showing your readers how and why he came to take bribes is an extraordinary tool in character building. We all talk about not creating one-dimensional characters. Here is an opportunity to create more dimensions and, thus, more compelling personalities. 

Dirty cops have betrayed the badge and no longer belong in the ranks. Ethics and honor are everything in a profession where a big chunk of the job is confronting others who have lost their ethical way. Such officers are hurting, and they’ve bent to the pressure. I get it, but I will never abide a fellow officer succumbing to temptation. Having sworn officers simultaneously taking bribes and arresting people for doing unscrupulous acts is untenable. So, write about police corruption, making sure you offer your readers characters who are flawed, multi-dimensional, and deliciously bad. Onward. 

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – An Urban Legend of Writer’s Block

By Andi Kopek

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In the Writers City, you could often hear the dreaded words whispered fearfully down every alley: “Writer’s Block.”

The Writer’s Block—a haunted quarter of shuttered buildings, which rise suddenly right in the middle of Triumph Boulevard, with no detour in sight.

Or so I’ve been told.

I must confess: I’ve never encountered The Writer’s Block myself.

I know—I might sound like a snobby, egotistic, pompous windbag, but it’s the truth. Some people experience writer’s block. Some don’t.

And that prompted me to reflect on what the Writer’s Block actually is, its many forms, and the ways one can unblock the Block.

Thus, today we will flaneur through the Writers City, visiting several places belonging to the Writer’s Block: 1/ The Clock Tower of Deadlines, 2/ The Empty Fountain of Inspiration, 3/ The Old Courthouse of Rigid Thinking, 4/ The Abandon Lot of Self-Doubt, and 5/ A Charred Alley of Burnout.

Let’s start our tour.

1/ The Clock Tower of Deadlines

The Clock Tower looms high over Writers City, its giant hands ticking out a deafening rhythm: I need it now, now, now! Deadlines can create wonderful energy—a needed push—but they can also have a windchill effect: freezing the creative flow before it even begins. Writer’s brains can get filled up with deafening ticking, squishing creativity to a forgotten corner of the mind. How to deal with this major source of anxiety experienced by so many writers? I think we can divide deadlines into two categories: external and internal. Each of these requires a different approach.

External deadlines are the loudest—editorial calendars, publishing schedules, submission windows, grant applications, your significant other’s birthday. They’re real and often immovable. The bad and the good thing about them is that we have no control over them. We have no choice but to deal with them. The trick to managing external deadlines is not to fight the clock—it’s to set up a rhythm with it. Probably, the most efficient approach is to set mini deadlines along the way, which would give your creativity breathing room. These intermediary, mini deadlines need to be set in a smart way (even SMARTY way—check one of the previous columns) to work. And don’t forget to reward yourself for reaching each mini deadline. The reward can be very symbolic, but it is important for the Reward System of your brain to get it to create positive reinforcement.

I also like to set for myself a fake final deadline, a week before the actual one, and I make myself believe that the fake one is real. This gives me some wiggle room between the “fake/real” deadline and the “real/real” one, and if everything goes well, I actually can wiggle to my favorite tune during that time.

Internal deadlines, though, are trickier. They whisper rather than shout: You should’ve finished this by now. Why aren't you done yet? And these are the most uncomfortable whispers one could hear. They don’t come from editors or agents, but from the depth of ourselves—fueled by ambition, guilt, or comparison.

Luckily, unlike external deadline clocks, we can rewind internal ones. You are in charge of setting these clocks. You are the Clockmaster. The challenge, then, is to be painfully honest with yourself and answer these questions: what wound your internal clock to begin with? Was it ambition? Guilt? Comparison? Once you know the answer to these questions, you can decide whether the clock deserves to keep ticking—or if it’s time to dismantle it altogether—and give yourself the time your creativity actually needs, not the time your anxiety demands.

And remember, the answer to the question “For Whom the Bell Tolls?” is: “For you.” Sometimes to remind you to work hard—and sometimes to rest wisely.

2/ The Empty Fountain of Inspiration

Once a sparkling heart of the city, the Fountain of Inspiration now stands dry and silent, collecting trash in the forgotten corners, and pigeon droppings on the sun-bleached edges. Every writer who visits here wonders if the water will ever flow again.

It will.

Inspiration isn’t a permanent spring. It ebbs and flows with its own mysterious cycle. But it is a cycle — which means that after a dry spell, a wet season inevitably follows. Inspiration often arrives when we step away. When we stop staring at the dry basin, the fountain stream will suddenly spurt from The Fountainhead, creating ephemeral liquid sculptures, shaped by the flow and imagination.

3/ The Old Courthouse of Rigid Thinking

Built of stone and stubbornness, the Old Courthouse is where rules are written in marble: “Good writers always do X,” “Real stories must be Y.” Inside, creativity that does not align strictly with the Codex, is put on trial.

The judges wear wigs powdered with the literary canon, and the jury selection is based on MFA diplomas and certificates of self-proclaimed connoisseurs of “real literature.” In the Old Courthouse, sentences can be brutally sentenced to death—without right of appeal. Every time the word “experimental” is uttered, it triggers a frenzy of gavel-thumping.

No matter how compelling the story, if it breaks the unspoken rules, it risks exile from the shelves of respectability to the frozen tundra of obscurity.

But the truth is: the rules exist so they can be broken. If you realize that the best pieces of literature bend dogmas, shatter glass silos of genre, and create their own standards, you are free to proceed with reckless imagination.

Don’t try to please the judge.

Rise from the bench and start dancing to your own tune—and make it rain with words, puns, and unruly metaphors—unless, of course, you’d like to become next Jarndyce v. Jarndyce.

Case closed.

4/ The Abandon Lot of Self-Doubt

The Abandoned Lot of Self-Doubt is hard to spot in the corner of the Writer’s Block, hidden behind overgrown bushes and the rusting scaffolding of half-built, unfinished ideas. In the middle of the lot, Impostor Syndrome sits on a creaky swing, pretending to play—with feet never quite leaving the ground. It looks around and constantly compares itself to the ghosts of ever-better peers.

But we can clear and reclaim this lot. Somewhere beneath the bent scaffolds of unfinished drafts lies the original deed—the reason you claimed this space in the first place. Maybe it says, “I write to make this world a better place,” or “I create because it gives me an enormous joy.”

So, clear the lot. Dig out the deed. Read it out loud. Feel, again, as its rightful owner. And then, when you look around, you will no longer see The Waste Land.

You will say instead: “I will show you power in a handful of dust.”

5/ A Charred Alley of Burnout

Finally, we come to the Charred Alley, where once-vibrant cafes and colorful murals are now blackened and hollow, with chipped, broken bricks scattered around. This is where writers pushed too hard, fueled by ambition, perfectionism, or necessity, until the fire of creativity consumed itself.

If you find yourself here, don’t rebuild right away. Let the ground cool. Walk around. Reflect. Ask yourself: “What caused the fire in the first place?”

The truth might be that the last straw you “pushed through” landed on a haystack of repeated rejections, stalled projects, and sentences approximating perfection—all slowly drying in the heat of unmet expectations, and reaching slowly the ignition point of 233° Celsius.

So, to recover, give yourself a break from writing. Read, for a change, but just for pure enjoyment, not for research. Or change media—paint, draw, dance—to nourish yourself. And then, when the wind of healing blows away the ashes of burnout, you know you are ready to start again.

I hope that our little city tour through the Writer’s Block district will help you navigate through its strange architecture and meandering paths—so that, no matter where you wander, you will always enjoy the view.

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his upcoming art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

Crafting Killer Back Cover Copy

By Lois Winston

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How do most readers buy books when they’re not searching for a specific title or author? They either scroll through an e-tailer site or stroll around the aisles of a bookstore. Either way, the first thing that will catch their attention is a book’s cover. In a bookstore, the reader picks up a book, flip it over, and reads the back cover copy. On an Internet site, the reader scrolls to the book’s description. 

The primary goal of back cover copy is to act as a tease. If the tease works, the reader flips to the first page or clicks on the sample to read a few paragraphs or pages. If she likes what she’s read, she’ll buy the book. If those first few paragraphs or pages don’t grab her, she continues to scroll or stroll. The back cover copy is the first step in whether a reader decides to buy a book. That’s why back cover copy is so important. It’s meant to whet the reader’s appetite and hook a potential customer. 

Back cover copy should consist of one or more short paragraphs that describe the main plot and main protagonist(s) in a book. If you’ve ever queried an agent or editor, it’s like the section of the query letter that describes your book. Sometimes, an editor may even use the author’s query blurb—with or without a few tweaks—for the back cover copy.

So what should go into back cover copy, and what should you omit? First, you want to include enough information to pique the reader’s curiosity about the book. That means giving an indication of the overall story arc and the main character(s). Who are these people you’ve written about, and what is it about them that will make a reader want to care about them, their world, their relationships, and their problems?

That sounds like an overwhelming task to accomplish in a few short paragraphs, but it’s quite easy if you rely on GMC—goal, motivation, and conflict. GMC is not just for plotting a good story and creating compelling characters. Nailing down characters’ GMC provides an author with a toolbox for creating every other aspect of the book—from the query to the synopsis to the novel to the back cover copy.

Step 1: Define Your Main Character

Use a few adjectives and a noun to define your main character. Be specific. These few words will tell exactly who your character is. This gives you a framework from which to work.

For example, in Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception the heroine is described as a “poor little rich girl.” The book is a heart-wrenching romantic suspense. Therefore, the back cover copy is crafted to evoke an emotional response in the reader.

In my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, my protagonist is a “reluctant amateur sleuth.” Since mysteries are plot driven, I created back cover copy that speaks to the cataclysmic upheaval in Anastasia’s life which propels her into solving each mystery.

Step 2: Define Your Main Character’s Internal and External Goals, Motivations, and Conflicts

Every book must have a balance of plot and characterization. External GMC speaks to plot. Internal GMC speaks to characterization.

For each of your main characters, answer the following questions: 
1.  What does your character want?
2.  Why does he/she want it?
3.  What’s keeping him/her from getting it?

Do this for both the external (the plot) and the internal (the characterization) GMC. Keep each answer to one sentence. When you’re finished, you’ll have six sentences, three that speak to plot and three that speak to characterization.

Avoid unnecessary description. No one buys a book because the heroine is a redhead. Include setting, occupation, and other specifics only if they’re pertinent to the plot and main characters. 

For example, in Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun, the first book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, the back cover copy doesn’t mention that the book takes place in New Jersey because it doesn’t matter. However, it does mention that Anastasia is a magazine crafts editor. Why? Because Anastasia discovers the murder victim sitting in her cubicle—glue gunned to her chair. If I didn’t mention Anastasia’s occupation, the circumstances of the victim’s death wouldn’t make any sense.

In Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception, I don’t mention Emma’s occupation in the blurb because it’s not relevant. I do mention that the story takes place in Philadelphia because the city plays an important role in the story.

Step 3: Define Other Essential Characters

Back cover copy will often, but not always, mention two or three characters because they’re essential to giving the reader an indication of what the story is about. This will vary depending on the genre and plot. Sometimes only one character is mentioned. If other characters play essential roles in your story, repeat Steps 1 and 2 to define their GMC. You probably won’t use all the information on these characters in crafting the blurb, but writing the information out will help you decide what’s important to include and what you can omit in crafting your back cover copy.

Step 4: Voice

The final component of your back cover copy is voice. Describe your book in a voice that matches the voice of your novel. Look at the examples at the end of this article. Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception is an emotionally driven romantic suspense, A Crafty Collage of Crime is a humorous mystery. The voice used in each is different. If you haven’t incorporated the voice from your book in your answers to the GMC questions, go back and tweak the sentences. 

It’s important for the reader to be able to determine whether your book is a romantic comedy versus a romantic suspense or a cozy mystery versus a police procedural. You want to meet reader expectation from the very beginning. Readers usually like surprise plot twists, but they don’t want to be tricked into buying a book that purports to be one genre, only to find it’s a completely different genre.

As a side note, cover art should also convey the tone of your book. The cover art and back cover copy should complement each other.

Step 5: Put it All Together

Look at the sentences you’ve created. Depending on the genre, you may or may not use all the sentences you’ve written to develop your back cover copy. Some back cover copy works well as one short paragraph. Most require two, three, or four paragraphs. Choose the sentences that best convey your story. String them together to create your back cover copy, fleshing the paragraphs out with any other pertinent information you believe is essential to hook the reader. Your paragraphs should be tight, concise, and free of unimportant details. Your goal is to make the reader want to flip to the first page of your book to read the opening paragraphs, then head to the cash register or click the Buy Link.

Samples of Back Cover Copy

Humorous cozy mystery:

A Crafty Collage of Crime

Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy

Wherever crafts editor and reluctant amateur sleuth Anastasia Pollack goes, murder and mayhem follow. Her honeymoon is no exception. She and new husband, photojournalist (and possible spy) Zachary Barnes, are enjoying a walk in the Tennessee woods when they stumble upon a body on the side of a creek. The dead man is the husband of one of the three sisters who own the winery and guest cottages where Anastasia and Zack are vacationing.

When the local sheriff sets his sights on the widow as the prime suspect, her sisters close ranks around her. The three siblings are true-crime junkies, and thanks to a podcaster who has produced an unauthorized series about her, Anastasia’s reputation for solving murders has preceded her to the bucolic hamlet. The sisters plead for her help in finding the real killer. As Anastasia learns more about the women and their business, a host of suspects emerge, including several relatives, a relentless land developer, and even the sisters themselves.

Meanwhile, Anastasia becomes obsessed with discovering the podcaster’s identity. Along with knowing about Anastasia’s life as a reluctant amateur sleuth, the podcaster has divulged details of Anastasia’s personal life. Someone has betrayed Anastasia’s trust, and she’s out to discover the identity of the culprit.

Emotionally driven romantic suspense:

Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception 

Life has delivered one sucker punch after another to Emma Wadsworth. As a matter of fact, you could say the poor little rich girl is the ultimate poster child for Money Can’t Buy Happiness—even if she is no longer a child.

Billionaire real estate stud Logan Crawford is as famous for his less-than-platinum reputation as he is his business empire. In thirty-eight years, he’s never fallen in love, and that’s just fine with him—until he meets Emma.

But Emma’s not buying into Logan’s seductive ways. Well, maybe just a little, but she’s definitely going into the affair with her eyes wide open. She’s no fool. At least not anymore. Her deceased husband saw to that. Besides, she knows Logan will catch the first jet out of Philadelphia once he learns her secrets.

Except things don’t go exactly as Emma has predicted, and when Philadelphia’s most beloved citizen becomes the city’s most notorious criminal, she needs to do a lot more than clear her name if she wants to save her budding romance with the billionaire hunk someone is willing to kill for.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Her most recent release is Sorry, Knot Sorry, the thirteenth book in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know About Real Police Work: Six Terms Writers Tend to Get Wrong About Police Work

By D.L. Williams

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There are terms in films and novels that are used interchangeably, despite the fact they actually refer to different things. For example, in Stephen King’s novel, “The Green Mile,” death row inmates occasionally refer to The Cold Mountain Penitentiary as “jail,” and in the Sylvester Stallone film, “First Blood,” the tiny local lockup in the fictional town of Hope, Washington is referred to as a prison. This is not a big deal, especially when it comes to dialogue. Fictional characters flub, either because they don’t know better or, perhaps, because the writer is inserting irony. 

If you want your hardened criminal to refer to his maximum-security prison as “jail,” or you want a naïve person in your story to refer to his two-hour confinement in a local holding cell as “my time in prison” for comedic purposes, I say rock on. However, it is often evident the writer plugged in an incorrect term, not for style or characterization purposes, but purely from a lack of information or research. It’s far better to be a well-informed writer who can tweak dialogue and descriptions artistically than an author who throws out incorrect terms due to not having done their homework. Let’s take a look at the six most common terms I hear or read that are used incorrectly: 

Misdemeanor or Felony

Misdemeanors are lower-level offenses for which a person can only be sentenced to a maximum of one year of confinement. Felonies, on the other hand, are more serious and can carry an incarceration sentence of anywhere from a year to the rest of the convicted person’s life and/or the death penalty. 

Every state has its own definitions of what constitutes a misdemeanor versus a felony. Each state’s statutes clearly differentiate between the two based on the severity of the offense, how many times the person has been convicted of a crime, or the dollar value of a stolen or intentionally damaged piece of property. 

For example, shoplifting is a misdemeanor, but many states also have theft statutes that bump the misdeed up to a felony if the item or items stolen are valued above $1,000. Driving While Intoxicated (DWI) is a misdemeanor unless the driver hurts someone in a crash or if the arrestee has been previously convicted multiple times for DWI. 

There are other significant differences: People arrested on a misdemeanor are often allowed to leave jail after posting bail without first having seen a judge, whereas many states mandate a person arrested for a felony-level offense is seen by a judge who will set the bail amount before release. Convicted felons are not allowed to vote or own a firearm in many states, oftentimes for life, whereas most misdemeanors can be expunged (legally erased) after a period of time.  

Jail or Prison

Jails are holding facilities used to detain people accused of a crime or who have been convicted of a misdemeanor offense and sentenced to less than one year of confinement. Prisons, on the other hand, are only for people who have been convicted of a felony and who have been sentenced to at least one year. 

Things can get tricky here, so tighten your hat strap. People arrested for felonies will be held in jail until they are convicted. Remember (and I don’t say this lightly), people are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, so what they’re initially arrested for may be quite different than what they’re sentenced for at trial. Thus, potential felons will be held in jail until trial (or until they agree to a plea bargain). Many jails segregate those accused of violent felonies from misdemeanants, but this depends on state statues, local policies, the physical size of the jail, and manpower resources. Thus, someone arrested for stealing a loaf of bread could well be in the same jail cell as someone arrested for murder. 

Probation or Parole

Probation and Parole are terms used to describe the condition of release from confinement following sentencing. They are used so interchangeably that they have become colloquial synonyms. They are different, however. Someone on probation has been convicted of a crime, misdemeanor or felony, but was not sent to prison. They may serve jail time, pay fines, do community service, but they never set foot in a prison for the crime they committed. Parole, on the other hand, is exclusively for convicted felons who have spent some time in prison. 

The difference between probation and parole may be insignificant in a conversation between two characters in your WIP, but it is significant in terms of the conditions of release. People on probation may be court-ordered to do certain things such as keep their probation officer apprised of where they live or work, take an occasional drug test, or do community service in lieu of jail time. 

People on parole, however, are only allowed to leave prison based on good behavior and an agreement to give up certain rights upon release. Most significantly, parolees generally give up their Fourth Amendment protections against government intrusions into their privacy. Thus, a parole officer can search a parolee’s house, demand an immediate drug test, require a detailed list of friends and family members, and insist on being privy to just about every move a person recently released from prison makes. 

The street lingo for someone on parole is that they are “on paper.” Your fictional detective will want to know if a parolee she’s interrogating is on paper, and she may want to get access to that person’s “chronos,” the written reports filed by prison and parole officials documenting how that person behaves, if they were often in trouble or were a model prisoner while incarcerated, if they’re going to their court-mandated therapy sessions, or if they’re making progress with drug rehab, etc. 

Police officers do not have the authority to intrude into a parolee’s private spaces (home, car, bodies, etc.). A common scenario when a cop is investigating a person on parole is for the detective to contact the parole officer and detail why their parolee is a suspect in the latest crime. The cop can’t order or even ask the parole officer to perform a search, but the parole officer can offer of his own accord. Generally, the parole officer will then invite the detective to come along and help out on the search. This is an end run on the Fourth Amendment. This is, by definition, a warrantless search, and, in my opinion, should only be used as a last resort and only if the crime being investigated is especially egregious. 

Bail or Bond

Bail and bond are probably the most confused terms I see in prose and in screenplays. Bail is the amount of money set by the court as a condition of release prior to trial. No one wants to sit in jail for weeks or months awaiting a court date, and the Eighth Amendment requires that the bail amount not be excessive. People who complain that judges are “soft” for allowing an accused person to pay bail and leave jail before their court date simply haven’t read or don’t understand this section of the Constitution. 

People who do pay the bail amount will get a refund when they show up for trial, but they forfeit the money if they “Fail to Appear” (often referred to as FTA), at which point the judge will issue a warrant for their arrest. 

Bail bonds, on the other hand, are posted by a bonding company or an attorney. It’s like a loan, only with heavy interest. Most bail bond companies don’t actually have to pay the court anything unless their client doesn’t show up for court. If that happens, bail bond companies will go looking for the person who burned them, and they’ll set a bounty hunter on the accused person’s trail. 

All of these terms are interchangeable in most people’s minds, which means you have wiggle room when it comes to how your fictional characters use them. Write your dialogue based on what you imagine your good guys and bad guys would know and say, but always do so from a position of insider knowledge.

Overcoming Blinking Cursor Syndrome

By Lois Winston

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I’ve heard some people state that there’s no such thing as writer’s block, that it’s all in your head, and you just need to snap out of it. Place your butt in your chair, your fingers on the keyboard, and just start typing!

I beg to differ. If something is keeping the words from flowing, it doesn’t matter if that something is physical, emotional, or mental. It exists. Anyone who claims otherwise has either been lucky enough not to experience writer’s block yet or is lying—to herself and/or to others. When life happens, it often impedes the muse, and every author at some point will find herself staring at a blinking cursor.

However, there are ways to overcome Blinking Cursor Syndrome, and they don’t involve purchasing additional software or downloading another social media app. My writing mantra has always been “Truth is Stranger than Fiction.” Many plots and characters in my books have been influenced by what’s going on in the world and how those events impact ordinary people.

The next time you find yourself suffering from Blinking Cursor Syndrome, try one or more of these tips:

Watch and read the news.

Too many people I know don’t regularly read, watch, or listen to the news. Big mistake, especially for writers. On any given night, a half-hour of world or local news will provide massive fodder for plots and characters.

From the time I began writing thirty years ago, I’ve kept a binder of interesting articles I’ve come across, clipping them from newspapers and news magazines or downloading them from the internet. Whenever I’m stuck for an idea, I pull out that binder and read through some of the articles in search of a nugget of inspiration. Even though I write mysteries, not all these articles are about criminal activity. My binder includes human interest stories, editorials, letters to Dear Abby, and even ads for odd mail-order products. Something will inevitably get my creative juices flowing.

Employ the fine art of eavesdropping.

I’m also a diehard eavesdropper. Instead of burying my nose in my phone, whether I’m standing on a supermarket line, in the theater awaiting the start of a movie, in a doctor’s waiting room, or even in a stall in the ladies’ room, I’m listen to conversations going on around me, especially phone conversations, which amazingly, are often on speaker in very public places. If I hear anything interesting (and I usually do), I’ll jot down some notes when I get into my car.

Be observant.

Stick your phone in your pocket and focus on the people you encounter as you go about your day. What are they doing? How do they react to and interact with others? Are they unique in the way they dress or look? Do they have any quirks? You won’t always come across someone worth remembering, but often, you will. Again, make notes for future reference.

In A Stitch to Die For, the fifth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, a murder occurs in the home across the street from Anastasia. Over the course of the series, the house is demolished and a McMansion built in its place. When I was mulling over ideas for the plot of Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the recently released fourteenth book in the series, I knew it was time for new neighbors to move into the McMansion. But who should they be?

I’ve had some very strange neighbors throughout my life, but the strangest were a couple who lived across the street from us twenty-five years ago. However, even though truth is often stranger than fiction, and my humorous cozy mystery series is populated with quite a few quirky characters, including my sleuth’s communist mother-in-law and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot, I wondered if readers would buy into a fictional version of my former neighbors. 

Barefoot and shirtless, the husband would spend hours mowing his dirt-packed, weed-infested front lawn. Except for rain or snow, every day throughout the year, he’d run the mower back and forth across the same postage stamp-sized patch until the mower ran out of gas. He’d then sit on the top step of his porch and guzzle beer until he either passed out or fell asleep, lying on his back with his massive beer belly protruding skyward.

His wife was odd in her own way. One day, I witnessed a sidewalk brawl between her and a woman she accused of having an affair with her weed-mowing, beer-guzzling husband.

To get a feel for how readers would react to characters based on this couple, I told my newsletter subscribers about them and asked if I should use them as inspiration for characters in my next book. The overwhelming consensus of those who responded was to go for it. I did, and I’m thrilled to report that so far, reviews are quite positive.

Along with the above three tips I’ve used to help me deal with Blinking Cursor Syndrome, here are a few others I find helpful:

Join a critique group or find a critique partner.

It always helps to have another writer or writers with whom to brainstorm and bounce around ideas. Let’s face it, sometimes we’re just too invested in our work to be objective. A good critique partner will bring a fresh set of eyes to your work and help you find a way out of that corner you’ve written yourself into.

Clear your overactive imagination. 

Sometimes our brains are so full of fragments of ideas that we find it difficult to narrow down the possibilities. If we choose A, will we regret not choosing B? What about C? Or D? When that happens, our imagination can work against us, paralyzing us with the fear of making the wrong choice. Try meditating. Or take a walk in the woods. Or a long, hot shower or bath. Wake up half an hour early to focus on one character or one plot point, ignoring everything else. Your brain is like your desk. If it’s too cluttered, you’ll never find what you need.

Give yourself permission not to write.

Some authors feel that the moment they finish a book, they need to start the next one. However, humans aren’t perpetual motion machines. If we want to nurture our creativity, we need to care for our bodies and minds, allowing them to rejuvenate periodically. Too often, we sabotage ourselves by believing we can never stop working. This is counterproductive, inevitably stifling our creativity.

When you begin to feel yourself succumbing to this way of thinking, walk away from the keyboard and screen. Take the day off. Or several days. Read a book for pleasure. Spend time on a hobby you’ve ignored for too long. Work in your garden. Do some volunteer work. Go shopping or out to lunch with friends. Take a short vacation or a staycation. Most importantly, step out of your writer’s cave. Give your brain and body a much-needed break. That blinking cursor is telling you that you need one.

Learn to say no.

Forgive me if this comes across as sounding sexist, but in my experience, this is a problem that affects women more than men. We have a hard time saying no, no matter what’s asked of us or by whom. Is it insecurity? A need to please? Or because we’ve been conditioned to believe we’re capable of accomplishing anything? After all, I am woman. Hear me roar! No matter the reason, from my own experiences and those of many of my friends, this inability to say no results in juggling too much, which creates an overabundance of stress and leaves less time for writing. Then, when we do find time to write, we pressure ourselves to get that self-imposed daily word count down, which creates even more stress. And thanks to all that stress, the words refuse to come.

The solution is as simple as not being so accommodating. Most people will always zero in on the one person they know they can wheedle, cajole, sweet-talk, or arm-twist into heading this committee or taking on that project, especially since most of these people believe, as writers, we don’t have “real” jobs (Which is a topic for another article). Resolve to grow a backbone, put your foot down, and say no now and then. You’ll find that when you free up writing time, your cursor will no longer blink you into a hypnotic trance.

Set a challenge for yourself.

Step away from trying to figure out whatever plot or character issue is causing Blinking Cursor Syndrome. Instead, find a recent news or human-interest story. Then, open a fresh document on your laptop or grab a pad and pen. 

After reading the article, allow yourself three to five minutes to put a “what if” spin to the article by answering each of the following questions:

1. Who is the protagonist?

2. Who is the antagonist?

3. Who are the secondary characters?

4. Where does the story take place?

5. What are the characters’ goals?

6. What are the characters’ motivations?

7. What are the characters’ conflicts?

8.What’s the basic plot?

9. What are the three major turning points of the plot?

10. What’s the black moment?

11. What’s the resolution?

When you’ve finished, study your answers. Chances are, your brain has subconsciously focused on the problem you put aside, and somewhere within the answers to those questions, is the solution to your blinking cursor. If not, you’ve got a head start on a new book. And that’s never a bad thing!

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her series, was the recipient of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.