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8/4 Sherry Harris, A Time to Swill

8/11 Authors of The Fish That Got Away

8/18 Authors of Mutt Murders, To Fetch A Killer

8/25 Alyssa Maxwell, Murder at Wakehurst

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8/21 Nancy Nau Sullivan

WWK Special Blogger

8/7 V. M. Burns


Monday, June 29, 2020

Why Murder? by Nancy L. Eady

            Most people will agree that I am one of the mildest persons you will ever meet. I exude a harmless aura that draws strangers to me to ask for directions when I’m out walking around town or a crowded store. Years ago, in the late 90’s, I was sent to New York for a week on business. A group of us agreed to meet at a restaurant in Greenwich Village after hours. We all were staying at different hotels, so we traveled there separately. I got there early, and got lost, a few blocks off the beaten path. When I walked onto a street with a few Goth attire stores, and a few more people walking around in leather and chains, I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. So, as humans mostly do when they are faced with the unfamiliar, I got scared. I decided the only way to convince people not to mess with me was to put on a “tough” face. That worked about three seconds; then I got so tickled at the idea of me trying to look tough that I couldn’t stop laughing at myself. It turns out people don’t mess with those they think are crazy either.
            My mildness makes me an unlikely person for writing mysteries. Because as an author, I have to put characters in not only dangerous but lethal situations. In order to spin my tales, I investigate ways for human beings to kill other human beings in new and creative, or at least sneaky, ways. But as difficult as that is, there is a flip side to writing mysteries as well. I write and read mysteries not for the joy of creating victims, but the joy of creating justice. As a writer and reader living in an imperfect world, at least in my fiction I can create a climate where people work together toward a common cause, and the good guys always win. Even though I can’t force those results in the real world, at least I can escape to a world where I make it happen.
            And that’s why I write about murder.


Kait said...

What a hysterical story! It's the quiet ones you have to look out for, Nancy.

Margaret S. Hamilton said...

Great image of Alabama girl walking the mean streets of NYC!

E. B. Davis said...

I agree--it's the outcome of justice that is the attraction.

KM Rockwood said...

Interesting. My protagonists tend to be flawed people, and sometimes "get away with it."

carla said...

Your comment about writing to create justice resonated with me. I didn't realize that's what drives me, too.
Thank you.

Barbara Monajem said...

Laughing at your NYC story, Nancy. I'm another of those mild-looking people. :)

Kaye George said...

Way long time ago, right after the dinosaurs disappeared, a friend and I were walking in Chicago, trying to find the subway to get back to NU in Evanston. I think we'd been to the Art Institute, or maybe a restaurant. Anyway, we weren't going the right direction and got into a sketchy neighborhood with boarded-up windows, just outside the Loop. My friend had on an extremely gaudy (real) diamond ring and we decided she should turn it around while we admitted we were lost and hailed a cab. (She was not going to college on scholarship, like I was!) The cab drove past a couple of subway entrances until we stopped him. We threw his tipless fee at him and left his door open. That was the only bad experience!

Kait said...

Oh, I love your story, Kaye. I was returning home from the Caribbean when I lived in Queens and got a cab at the airport. The driver, thinking I was a young, stupid, thing, took off in the wrong direction. When I tried to correct him, he told me it was a short cut. Mind you, I lived there. I asked him to stop the cab, he refused and kept going deeper into Long Island. When I saw a police car, I rolled down (that long ago) the window and wriggled my entire torso out and frantically waved my arms. The cop lit up on him, of course, and when he pulled over tried to tell the cop I was abducting him. The cop laughed. I insisted on paying the fare, no tip, and my taxi of the evening was a NY State Trooper. What is it with some cabbies?

Barb Goffman said...

Nancy, thank you for the laugh. And Kait, how I would have loved to have been there to see you hail down that cop.