Finding My Way Back to Copper Bay by Sarah E. Burr

When I sat down last September to start writing Fatal Sign-Off, I expected to feel right at home. After all, I’d written two books in my Book Blogger Mysteries series, spent countless hours dreaming up the coastal town of Copper Bay, and lived alongside Winnie Lark and her friends through every twist and turn of their fictional lives. How hard could it be to dive back in?

Turns out, way harder than I thought.

More than two years had passed since I’d last worked on creating stories for this series. In that time, I’d written other books, told other tales, and spent my days with different casts of characters. When it came time to return to Winnie’s world, I discovered that I’d lost the easy familiarity I once had with her. Her voice wasn’t leaping off the page the way it used to. Her motivations were hazy. I couldn’t quite pin down what she wanted out of life at this stage in her journey.

It was a strange feeling. These were characters I had created. I knew their backstories, their quirks, their favorite coffee orders. And yet, sitting at my desk, staring at the blinking cursor, I realized I didn’t know them anymore.

That realization was… unsettling.

Writing a series is a lot like nurturing a long-term friendship. You build trust and intimacy over time, layering shared experiences until you can practically predict each other’s reactions. But if you go years without seeing that friend, the dynamic shifts. You might wonder, will it still feel the same? Will we still laugh at the same things? Will we still “get” each other?

With Fatal Sign-Off, I had to face those questions about my own fictional friends.

At first, I tried to force it. I told myself, You know Winnie. You know her best friends and her brother. You know Copper Bay inside and out. But every sentence felt like it was wearing a stiff, ill-fitting jacket. The rhythm wasn’t there. The spark was missing. And worse, I started to doubt whether I could find it again.

So, I took a step back. Instead of pushing forward with the plot, I decided to spend time with my characters without the pressure of getting everything “right” on the first try. I wrote little vignettes—moments that would never appear in the final book—just to remember what it felt like to be in the room with Winnie and her crew. I reread scenes from Over My Dead Blog and Dearly Deleted to hear their voices again. I chatted with readers about what they loved about the characters and what stood out to them the most.

Slowly, the familiarity started to return.

I began to remember the way Winnie teases her brother when his “Hollywoodness” begins to show, how her internal monologue is laced with equal parts snark and self-awareness. I remembered her friends’ quiet loyalty, the way they’ve always got Winnie’s back even when she doesn’t ask. I remembered what Copper Bay smells like after a storm, and how the harbor wharf sounds under a pair of boots in the chilly spring.

And then, one day, I realized I’d stopped “trying” to write in their voices. I was just… writing.

That’s when it hit me: these characters had been waiting for me all along. They hadn’t gone anywhere. They were right where I’d left them, frozen in that in-between space that only exists in fiction, patiently holding their mugs of coffee and waiting for me to show up again.

Coming back to the Book Blogger Mysteries after such a long break felt a lot like running into an old friend from high school. At first, you’re awkward, fumbling through small talk, not sure if you’ll have anything in common anymore. But then you remember the inside jokes, the shared history, the comfortable silences. Before you know it, you’re laughing like no time has passed at all.

That’s what happened with Winnie and the rest of the Copper Bay crew.

Once I stopped worrying about “getting it right” and just let us hang out together again, the groove came back. The plot threads started to weave themselves together. The dialogue felt natural. I could see what each character wanted and feared. It was like the door to Copper Bay had been locked for a while, and all I needed was to jiggle the key in just the right way.

Writing Fatal Sign-Off taught me something I’ll carry into every future project: even when you feel disconnected from your characters, the bond you’ve built with them doesn’t just disappear. It might get dusty from lack of use, but it’s still there, waiting to be rediscovered.

And when you do find it again, it’s magic.

By the time I typed “The End,” I didn’t just feel like I’d finished another mystery. I felt like I’d reconnected with old friends—friends I know I won’t leave behind for so long again. Because while I may write about murder and mayhem, at the heart of every story are the relationships that make it worth telling. And those bonds? They’re worth coming back to, no matter how much time has passed. 

Fatal Sign-Off launches August 26th on eBook and paperback. Available at your favorite bookish retailer!