Should I Consider Self-Publishing? by KM Rockwood

The publishing world has changed dramatically from the days when “self-published” was shorthand for amateurish, poorly edited,

or couldn’t get a real publisher. Back then, even authors who poured care into their work often found themselves dismissed by peers and ignored by readers.

That era is gone.

Today, both debut and veteran writers self-publish. Many produce books every bit as polished and professional as those released by traditional houses. And readers—far more open minded than the industry once assumed—have embraced the idea that some of the most original, memorable, and enjoyable stories come from outside the Big Five.

Which brings me to the question I keep circling: should I consider self-publishing?

I have a backlog of previously published stories I’d love to gather into a collection, along with several nearly finished pieces that have never seen the light of day. My work tends toward the quirky, the off center, the not-quite-marketable—traits that don’t exactly thrill the major U.S. publishers. Agents, ever attuned to what sells, pass. Small presses, who are usually more welcoming of unusual material, have also declined.

I’d like to believe this isn’t a referendum on the quality of my writing—though of course that doubt whispers in the background. Are those “encouraging” rejections simply polite brush offs? Possibly. But that’s not the point.

The real question is: should I take the leap into self-publishing?

I write because I love it. I’ll keep writing whether anyone reads my stories or not. But sharing them—seeing them land in someone else’s imagination—brings a satisfaction nothing else quite matches.

Self-publishing is not for the faint of heart. Some authors thrive at it. Some earn real money. Some break even. And some end up with boxes of unsold books tucked behind the extra toilet paper in the back of the linen closet.

Is that where mine would end up?

The considerations feel endless.

Establish a small “private” press? Plenty of writers have found success doing exactly that.

Editing is non-negotiable. Nothing screams “incompetently self-published” like sloppy line editing. Weak content editing may be less obvious at first glance, but it still undermines the work. I don’t want to release anything I’ll later be embarrassed to claim as my own.

Fortunately, I do have a network of people who can help with that. And I know some very capable editors whose rates are not totally outrageous.

Would I contract someone else for formatting? Many people quite successfully format their own work. My tolerance for that type of work is limited. After the fiftieth “What did I do wrong this time?” incident in the past hour, I’m likely to seriously consider tossing my computer through the window. Which would not bode well for the computer, the window, or the piece on which I was working.

I know I’m totally incapable of coming up with illustrations, either for a cover or to accompany text. Some of my stories cry out for illustrations. Definitely an area where I would have to contract out anything I needed.

Whether a work is published by a press or not, marketing in today’s world falls directly on the shoulders of the author. Some people excel at marketing. Some people even enjoy it.

Since childhood, I have always had a deep innate dread that any attention is a direct prelude to being in serious trouble, so my inclination is to fly under the radar as much as possible. Not the best basis for establishing a successful marketing campaign.

And beyond those considerations lie other steps: ISBNs, distribution, copyright, metadata, reviews, discoverability—the whole ecosystem that traditional publishers handle behind the scenes.

It’s a lot.

But maybe it’s time to explore it seriously.

Reading for the Day After Mother's Day

 by Shari Randall

Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley by Charlotte Gordon.

If you're expecting the story of two prim and proper ladies of the late 1700s and early 1800s, look elsewhere. This mother and daughter were passionate trailblazers who continually pushed against the limits placed upon them by society. And the drama! Romantic Outlaws reads like an opera (and even a soap opera), with heightened passions, life and death stakes, and a cast of characters that's a who's who of Enlightenment and Georgian Europe.

Mary Wollstonecraft was a philosopher and author of the groundbreaking A Vindication of the Rights of Women. She died in 1787 after giving birth to daughter Mary.

Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin grew up to become Mary Shelley, wife of the Romantic poet Percy Shelley and author of the groundbreaking 1818 novel, Frankenstein. 

The biography's dual structure, with one chapter about Mary Wollstonecraft alternating with one about Mary Shelley, underscores the similar challenges each woman faced in her unorthodox personal and professional life. Though Mary Shelley never knew her revolutionary mother, her mother's writings were a North Star she followed, for better or worse, all her life. Far from being a dry biography, Romantic Outlaws reads like a juicy and surprising historical novel. 

Highly recommended.

Have you read a good biography lately?

Shari Randall is the author of the Lobster Shack Mystery series and, as Meri Allen, the Ice Cream Shop Mystery series. She loves biographies.

STIRRING MY MUSE by Korina Moss

In last month’s blog post, My Full Circle Journey, I wrote about the Malice Domestic Fan Convention I was about to attend and how it would be different for me this year going as a dual cozy mystery author/ freelance editor. I hadn’t written in a while, and my personal goal for the conference was to stir my sleepy muse. Whether that would happen or not, there was so much to look forward to.

Author Leslie Karst & SinC president Raquel Reyes
showing their love, lol 

I watched like a proud auntie while a client of mine, Megan Gerig, looked like a pro on her first author panel to talk about her first novel, Beatrice Ophelia is Flickering Out. 

I chatted with another client at her first Malice, Faith (pseudonym Tanzy Kohl), readying herself for the submission process. 

I got to watch my dear friend, Ellen Byron, charm the crowd as toastmaster, and my friend and our fellow Writers Who Kill member, Annette Dashofy, give her heartfelt speech as Guest of Honor. I cheered when my close friend Mindy Quigley won the Agatha Award for Best Contemporary Novel for At Death’s Dough. 

And I jumped out of my chair next to my friend and client, Adrian Andover, as he won Best First Novel for Whiskey Business. (Click here for the full list of honorees and Agatha Award nominees and winners.)

Of course, getting to spend four days with dear friends and new friends always lifts me up. Among the laughs and the personal catching up, one-on-one or in small group settings, it’s no surprise that we talk a lot about writing and publishing. It’s encouraging to hear everyone’s stories—where they are in their journey, how they’re feeling about it, and what’s changed. We have real talks—it’s not all rainbows and unicorns, as most every writer knows. But it’s still our common passion. There are writers who are just getting their careers started, while others are taking a break. Some writers are busier than ever, and others are changing course. It doesn’t matter. Our shared goals and challenges are what bond us. Celebrating and supporting each other no matter where we are in our journey is what makes the mystery writing community so special. 

Back L to R: Jackie Layton, Rosalie Spielman, Korina Moss, Annie McEwen
Front L to R: Daphne Silver, Tiffany Krieg (The Beachbum Bookworm), Tricia Maniaci, & Holly Pirtle (Short, Sweet, & Cozy)

It’s been two weeks since I dragged myself and my luggage home from those whirlwind four days. As for my personal goal? I left inspired with my muse awakened. 

Writers: What stirs your muse? 

KORINA MOSS is the author of the Cheese Shop Mystery series, which includes the winner of the Agatha Award for Best First Novel, as well as two novels short-listed for Best Contemporary Novel. Listed as one of USA Today’s “Best Cozy Mystery Series,” her books have also been featured in PARADE Magazine, Woman’s World, and Writer’s Digest. Korina is also a freelance developmental editor specializing in cozy mysteries. To learn more or subscribe to her free monthly newsletter, visit her website korinamossauthor.com.

Enjoy a Little Courage of the Heart

Hello there! I ran out of time to get my blog post ready this week--life got in the way. Don't worry! Everyone is fine. So, today I'm offering you, dear reader, a short story I wrote fifteen years ago, a paranormal romantic suspense!  I hope you enjoy it! -- Lisa

COURAGE OF THE HEART

 Calvin's grandmother had always told him that his ability to foretell the future was a "gift from the heart" passed on to him from her side of the family. To Calvin, however, it was a white elephant, something he would have readily returned or re-gifted long ago, if only he could have. In his experience, being clairvoyant was a meddlesome burden with far too many costs and too few benefits. The worst drawback was how people reacted after learning of his supernatural powers--folks either shunned him out of fear or harassed him for help with every little life decision.

But it wasn’t until one fateful Saturday morning that the reluctant seer saw his psychic skill as something worse—an insufferable curse, an affliction that would kill his spirit, if not his body. The prophetic vision that came to Calvin as he flipped open his cellphone that day was devastating, dashing long-held hopes and dreams for his own future. In panic, he bolted out the door in a race against time with only an hour to figure out how to change the future, if he possibly could.

Calvin’s apartment was only a few minutes’ walk from the small, red-brick house his Grandma Helen lived in, but that morning he covered the distance between them almost as fast as a world-record sprinter. As he burst through her front door, Calvin was greeted by the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut—his grandmother had baked his favorite cookies. Obviously, she’d seen him coming even before he decided to seek her advice. This wasn’t anything new. The far-sighted old woman was often a step ahead of her grandson.

"Hello, Calvin dear. I'm so happy you're here." The petite, white-haired old woman pulled her only grandchild inside and kissed him on the cheek. "I had a dream last night that you'd stop by today, and here you are. I baked coconut macaroons just for the occasion." She sat Calvin down at the kitchen table and set a plate of cookies in front him. "Would you like some milk? Lemonade?”

"No thanks, Grandma," he said, pushing aside the cookies.

"I can tell that something is bothering you, something big. It would have to be to turn you away from my macaroons. What's on your mind, sweetie?"

Calvin struggled through his heartache, trying to find the words to explain his predicament. The oven timer beeped loudly, offering him a startling reminder that time was running short. His panic returned, causing him to tremble uncontrollably then burst out in a loud, incoherent babble.

"Calvin honey, I can't understand a word you're saying,” Grandma Helen shouted over her grandson’s frantic gibberish. She pulled the finished batch of cookies out of the oven then took a seat next to Calvin and hugged him tightly. “Oh, my! You're quivering like a canary in a roomful of cats.”

With a booming groan, Calvin threw his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"Just take a deep breath, dear. Think through what you want to say and start over—slowly this time."

Calvin pulled his head up, did as instructed but struggled to get out his first sentence. Finally, he spoke.

"Grandma, you know that Kate is my best friend, has been for the last fifteen years," he said, still trembling. "I'm crazy in love with her. Have been since the day we met during our freshman year of high school. I've always wanted to tell Kate how I feel about her, but now it may be too late. When she called this morning and asked me to lunch, I had a vision. I was sitting across from Kate at Al’s Diner, and she was showing off a large diamond ring on her left hand."

Calvin paused to wipe away the wetness forming in the corners of his eyes. He took another deep breath and found the strength to continue. "Grandma, Kate's engaged. She's going to tell me at lunch and then ask me whether she's making the right decision in marrying Jake, the man she's been dating. I want nothing more than for Kate to be happy, but I don't want her to be happy with Jake, I want her to be happy with me. I want her to marry me."

Calvin's fear kept him from asking his grandmother if she saw his fate differently than he did. Instead, he looked into her eyes, hoping to see the future he wanted reflected back at him, but all he saw was compassion and concern.

"I'm afraid to look into her future. What should I do if I see a happy marriage for Kate and Jake, or worse, if I don't see it for Kate and me?"

"It pains me to see you so brokenhearted, my dear," Grandma Helen replied as she took his hands in hers. "The whole family loves Kate. She's always been so sweet and kind to everyone, especially me. I think of her as the granddaughter I never had. I always hoped you two would end up together, but neither your desperation, nor an old woman's wish can change Destiny. What will be will be. You must summon up the courage in your heart to accept what you see with your special gift."

The words stung Calvin to his core, but he knew his grandmother was right. Only a fool ignored the wisdom of the prescient woman who spoke those words. Whether it was predicting something as minor as a fender bender, or something as lifechanging as a surprise pregnancy, Calvin had never known his grandmother to be wrong about what the future held in store. No matter how hard people tried, nothing they did ever kept the future, as Grandma Helen had seen it, from coming to pass.

Al's Diner wasn't a big place or a fancy one. It was a small neighborhood cafe that served satisfying home-style meals atop plain, white restaurant china on brown Formica tables. It was known for its homey atmosphere, the kind of place where customers were treated like family, and everyone felt instantly comfortable being on a first name basis, sharing personal stories and life events. The walls were covered with thirty years of photos displaying Al and his best customers as they celebrated birthdays, engagements, anniversaries, graduations, and other special moments in their lives. Like many of Al's other regulars, Calvin and Kate had fallen in love with the diner on their first visit. To Calvin, it was "their place.”

As he slid into their booth, his eyes fell upon a faded photo hanging on the wall showing short, gangly, plain-faced eighteen-year-old Calvin standing next to Kate--tall, curvaceous, stunningly beautiful Kate--as she proudly displayed her letter of acceptance to Stanford University to study Biotechnology. The look of relief on his face reminded Calvin of the uncertainty and worry he'd put himself through with that letter. With a straight-A transcript, a near-perfect SAT score, and numerous science-related awards in his academic record, Calvin had easily won early acceptance and a full four-year scholarship to study Computer Engineering at Stanford.

But Kate hadn't been the shoo-in he was. Calvin couldn't bring himself to look into the future where the woman he loved was concerned. He’d lived for nearly five months in dread of her receiving a letter of rejection from Stanford. If that had come to pass, he would’ve abandoned his dream of attending Stanford to follow Kate to her second pick school, Georgia Tech, where she’d already been accepted. Calvin knew it was a desperate, clandestine effort on his part to stay near Kate. It wasn’t really a choice for him. She was like oxygen to Calvin, a life-giving breath of air that he needed to stay alive.

Calvin sighed and continued gazing at the photo of the woman he adored more every day.

 "Waiting for Kate?"

Calvin turned his head and nodded in response to the question asked by the wiry, black-haired waitress standing next him. "I could really use a cup of Al's coffee, Betty." After realizing his heart was already racing with anxiety over Kate's impending announcement, he added, "Better make that decaf."

The coffee the diner served was on the bitter side, but Calvin had grown to love its taste because with every drop he saw himself sitting across the table from Kate, sharing her life over a pot of the dark brew. He stopped by the restaurant for a cup every morning on his way to work just to start his day with pleasant thoughts of the woman he loved.

Betty soon returned with two white porcelain mugs, a carafe, and a small pitcher of cream. “Anything else I can get you, hun?”

“No, thanks, Betty,” Calvin said, as he quickly poured the hot brown liquid into his cup and added a splash of cream. With his first sip of the comforting brew, he recalled the day he had met Kate.

Fourteen-year-old Calvin had been on his way to the school cafeteria when he nearly tripped over a chubby, pimple-faced girl frantically scampering across the crowded floor of his high school’s English hallway. Dozens of students had walked by the girl, laughing as she chased after the contents of a backpack that had spilled all over the floor, but not Calvin. He had come to her rescue without even a chuckle. As he helped Kate to her feet, his eyes had met hers, so soft and blue, mesmerizing. Then, as if under some kind of spell, Calvin had done something he had never done before--he asked a girl to join him for lunch. Kate had said yes, and it had been a magical meal for the shy teenage boy. Kate had turned out to be different than the other girls Calvin had approached—sweet, attentive, and easy to talk to. He found they had a lot in common, from the classes they liked best (Science and Math), the foods they preferred (Thai and Mexican), to the books and movies they enjoyed (Science Fiction and Fantasy).

"Hey, Cal!"

Calvin's heart skipped a beat when he heard the familiar voice. He turned around. The sight of Kate coming towards their booth took his breath away. She always had that effect on him, even bare-faced and dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, as she was now. Kate had emerged from her pubescent cocoon in their junior year as a rare beauty with everything that made a man drool from a block away: a silky mane of chestnut-colored hair; clear, ivory skin; a face that Da Vinci would’ve called "perfectly, classically proportioned"; and a lithe body with ample curves and long, slender legs. But even if Kate had remained the plain, awkward girl that she was at fourteen, Calvin would still have thought her the most beautiful girl in the world--that was how much he loved her.

The two friends hugged then sat down. Betty quickly appeared with silverware, napkins, and menus. After setting everything down on the table, she proudly announced the birth of her first grandchild, a girl weighing in at seven pounds nine ounces named Olivia.

"I have big news, too, Cal," Kate said after Betty left with their orders. "Jake asked me to marry him last night.”

Calvin’s eyes darted to Kate’s left hand. There it was, the engagement ring, just as he’d seen it earlier that morning--a glistening teardrop diamond set with two smaller rubies on a platinum band. As he grasped Kate's outstretched hand to examine the ring, another vision thrust itself upon him--Kate and Jake, old and gray, dancing with each other, smiling as a crowd of people, young and old, applauded. The image was more than Calvin could bear, and reflexively, as if he had just burnt his hand on hers, he pulled away, and the vision vanished.

"You know I've never asked you to see my future, but I need to be sure that Jake is my Mr. Right. Please, Cal, please tell me if Jake and I will be truly happy together.”

The anxiety Calvin saw in her eyes couldn’t be more than what he was experiencing himself. He had always feared the future where Kate was concerned, dreaded it for years, but it had been inevitable that she would ask this favor. He’d never mustered the courage to find out if Kate loved him like he did her, and it didn’t take a sixth sense to foresee that eventually some other man would capture the heart of the sweet, lovely angel sitting with him now. Now that the future was finally here and the request made, Calvin realized he had no choice in the matter. He had to be honest with Kate, not because of his grandmother’s advice, but because he loved her too much to lie. So, after feigning a smile, Calvin looked deeply into the eyes of the only woman he ever loved and choked out the truth of the unbearable vision forced upon him moments earlier.

"When I touched your hand a few seconds ago, I saw you and Jake at a big party celebrating your fiftieth wedding anniversary. Congratulations. You two will have a long, happy life together."

Across the table, Kate took the news seemingly without joy. "Cal, I've always suspected that you loved me more than just a friend."

Calvin was stunned. Not knowing what to say, he turned away, trying desperately to figure out what to do. Was it too late to tell her how he really felt? He had wanted to tell Kate during their junior year of high school, but by the time he had worked up enough courage, she was the object of desire by nearly every boy in school. Now that she was engaged to a handsome, successful lawyer who was destined to make her happy, what good would it do to tell her? How could he tell Kate, gorgeous Kate, the love of his life, that she was passionately loved by a scrawny, four-eyed nerd who hoped she loved him the same way? "Beauty and the Geek"--it was an impossible fairy tale. Even if she didn't laugh at him, it would certainly jeopardize any future he had with her. He wouldn't risk losing Kate, even if it meant never being more than a good friend to her.

Suddenly, Kate lunged toward Calvin from across the table, embraced him hard and kissed him even harder, a kiss that lingered on his lips even after she pulled away. The very public display of passion between two of Al's best customers drew hoots and whistles from the diner's regular crowd and staff --You go, girl! Atta boy, Cal! It's about time!

With a blush rushing over him, Calvin turned away from the crowd and caught a glance at Kate. Her eyes betrayed her distress, but though he longed to face her, the awkward revelry of the gallery kept Calvin from returning her gaze. When a grand slam home run that played across the diner’s TV screen finally diverted the crowd’s attention, Calvin knew he couldn’t hide behind his cowardice anymore.

"Tell me what to do, Cal,” Kate pleaded again. “Do I give this ring back or not?"

Calvin thought it would be so simple to tell Kate that he loved her, but his gift had cursed him again. She would be happy with Jake. He had seen it. Kate wanted an answer, and he was ready to give it to her, but he had to be certain--for her sake and his sanity.

Trembling, Calvin reached for Kate's left hand. He slowly closed his eyes, forcing a return to the image he had choked off in despair only minutes ago. Willingly embracing the prophecy this time, he lingered over each frame of the silent movie playing in his mind, looking for any sign from the elderly Kate that could betray a veiled truth that she wasn’t happy in her marriage—a slight rebuff, a cold shoulder, a strained smile, or a melancholy look in her eyes. He saw none. When the vision finally faded away, Calvin was confident in his answer for the woman whose welfare meant everything to him. Recalling his grandmother’s sage words, Calvin now had the courage to accept that he’d seen the future as it was meant to be, one in which Kate was truly happy with her choice of life partner.       

Later that afternoon, as they sipped lemonade and nibbled on coconut macaroons at Grandma Helen’s house, Calvin and Kate announced their engagement. After a round of hugs and kisses, Calvin regaled his grandmother with story of how his visions gave him the nerve to confess his love to Kate.

"Grandma,” he continued upon finishing his tale, “I've been negligent in thanking you for my 'special gift,' as you have often called my psychic ability. It was a gift from your heart, so now I thank you from the bottom of mine because it brought Kate and me together."

"There's something that has been bothering us both about all this, Grandmother Helen," Kate interjected. She glanced at Calvin.

On cue, Calvin asked the question that had puzzled the young couple all afternoon. "Yes, Grandma, we don't understand what happened. We're not trying to tempt Fate, Destiny, or whatever people call it, but how could the future change so dramatically from one vision to the next? I really did see Kate and Jake together when I touched her hand that first time. But the second vision, the one after Kate kissed me...," Calvin paused, looked into his fiancée’s deep blue eyes and saw her love reflecting back at him. "I mean, after we kissed, I was in the picture. I was Kate's husband at that anniversary party fifty years into the future, and I could tell that she was truly happy with me as her husband--we both were. It was clear from my vision that, even after five decades of marriage, we were still crazy about each other.”

A knowing smile spread across the wise, old seer’s face. "That kiss did the trick. With it, you two finally declared your true love, which is the only thing in this world powerful enough to alter Destiny. But you never needed psychic powers to see the future as magnificently blissful as it could be--just the courage to express your undying love for each other when you felt in your hearts."

Interesting Tools You Can Use for Research

(Or When You’re Supposed to be Writing)

by Heather Weidner

 

The internet is a great place to get lost in research or the rabbit hole of endless clicking when you’re supposed to be writing. Hopefully, these sites can be helpful or at least be a source of entertainment. Here’s my list in no particular order.

      https://www.flightradar24.com/ – Check out the aircraft in flight at any given moment.

https://science.nasa.gov/mission/landsat/outreach/your-name-in-landsat/ - Use this site to create an image of your name from photos taken from outer space.

http://howmanypeopleareinspacerightnow.com – Find out how many humans are in space at any given time.

https://web.archive.org – Look up old websites and blogs if they are still available in the webverse.

http://whois.domaintools.com – Use this to see who owns a web domain/web address.

http://10minuteemail.com – Create an email address that lasts for 10 minutes. Many find it helpful when they want to view a site that requires an email address while not providing their own.

http:.//downforeveryoneorjustme.com   – Check website and system outages here.

http://futureme.com – Schedule/send your future self an email.

http://privnote.com – Send an email to someone that will disappear after it is read. (Just remember, this is the internet. Nothing is ever gone forever.)

http://window-swap.com – Use this site to discover the view from a random window somewhere in the world.

http://thetruesize.com – See how large states and countries truly are.

http://virtualvacation.us – Take a minute for a quick, virtual vacation.

http://monkeytype.com – See how fast you really type.

http://keybr.com – Use this to improve your typing speed.

https://www.louvre.fr/en/online-tours  - Take an online tour of the Louvre.

http://www.britishmuseum.org/collection - Visit the British Museum without leaving your desk.

http://naturalhistory.si.edu/visit/virtual-tour - Check out the Smithsonian’s natural history collection.

http://everytimezone.com – See what time it is in any time zone.

https://radio.garden/ Listen to random radio stations worldwide.

https://app.radiooooo.com/ –  Listen to music from a variety of decades.

http://coolthings.com – Check out some useful (and not so useful) gifts and gadgets.

https://www.theliterarygiftcompany.com/ Find the perfect gift for bookworms in your life.

Some of these have some interesting information that may spark some ideas for stories or things to include in your writing. What is an interesting site that you have used for research? 

Through the years, Heather Weidner has been a cop’s kid, technical writer, editor, college professor, software tester, and IT manager. She writes the Pearly Girls Mysteries, the Delanie Fitzgerald Mysteries, The Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries, and The Mermaid Bay Christmas Shoppe Mysteries. 

Originally from Virginia Beach, Heather has been a mystery fan since Scooby-Doo and Nancy Drew. She lives in Central Virginia with her husband and a crazy Mini Aussie Shepherd. 

 

Romance in the Air and Murder in the Shadows by Susan Van Kirk

Lately, I’ve been plundering my past writing. It’s not that I’ve run out of ideas for future books. In fact, I already have an idea in mind for my seventh Endurance mystery. Recently, I rewrote parts of my memoir about teaching and reconnecting with students I’d taught in my past life. That project led me down another path I’m starting on now. Here’s a description of a 1940s dance venue called the Roof Garden that I used in my novella, The Locket: From the Casebook of TJ Sweeney:

“That was the beauty of the Roof Garden. If you looked over the edge, you could see people dancing in the street and on the sidewalks. The music simply floated down there from the top of the building, and a whole ‘nother dance was going on below. From above, you could gaze down on the couples and the glowing streetlights. You see, back then, even if you couldn’t afford the dance, you could still have a little of the starlight.”

 

Back in 2016, I published an 82-page novella about my gorgeous, smart, biracial detective, TJ Sweeney. Normally, the Endurance Mysteries featured Grace Kimball, retired teacher, but for that brief moment, I decided to let her former student and detective friend, TJ, have the spotlight. And, even better, it allowed me to go back in history—one of my favorite trips.

 The story featured a murder victim buried in a construction site in the present day that gave TJ a puzzle to solve. Why was she killed? Who was she? Because the bones dated back to the 1930s or 1940s, TJ would need to unscramble a tough puzzle indeed—before DNA, before databases, before other useful law enforcement tools.

 

When I wrote this novella, I also meant this story to be a tribute to my parent’s generation. In Galesburg, Illinois, where I grew up, the Weinberg Arcade still stands, a brick-and-mortar office building downtown. During the 1930s and 1940s, however, the roof of that building became a glittering dance venue featuring the Big Bands, who toured throughout the Midwest. Tiny Hill, Lawrence Welk, Tommy Dorsey, and Paul Whiteman were just a few of the band leaders whose bands played at the Roof Garden. It was an oasis in a stormy time. My parents went there as often as possible and particularly when my dad was home from World War II.

 

Besides finding wonderful anecdotal Roof Garden history at the local library, I tracked down a woman who danced at the Roof Garden as a teenager. She told me, “On the dance nights, especially Saturday nights, you had to buy a ticket to get in, and it cost twenty or twenty-five cents. It was a different time, you know. There was a coat check guy who was Black, and an occasional musician was Black, but otherwise the crowd was all white people. Smooching or other displays of affection were frowned upon, and they had security guys there. But never, in all those years, was there a fight or brawl.”

 “And soldiers? Were there soldiers?” I asked.

 

“Oh, yes. You see, the Mayo army hospital was on the north edge of town. [One of sixty-three army hospitals built expressly for war casualties, I later learned. It opened in 1943, and because Galesburg was a major railroad hub, a special spur was created to offload the injured.] The patients who were ambulatory could take a bus downtown and walk a couple blocks to the Roof Garden. Since Knox College [in Galesburg] had an ROTC program, many of their air cadets would come to dance during the 1940s.”

The nostalgic atmosphere of the story is juxtaposed with a terrible murder. The way TJ Sweeney goes

after the identities of the victim and the killer displays her cleverness in dealing with a world far removed from our modern-day technology. Lots of twists and turns highlight her search. Two of my favorite images from the novella came from my imagination and from my source. I pictured soldiers milling around in their uniforms, many smoking, and waiting for the bus to pick them up to go back to the army hospital. The second image was of the people down on the pavement four floors below, who could clearly hear the band music and were dancing on the sidewalks and in the streets among the hazy glow from the street lamps.

 My source ended our conversation with a wistful comment. “Eventually the war ended, and everything changed.”

 

Yes, a decade later, Elvis Presley would show up and my parent’s generation would be appalled. Now I see why.

 

I’ve decided to write two more novellas about TJ Sweeney, slap the three together, and make a full-sized book, From the Casebook of TJ Sweeney. I’ll keep this first novella about the murder during WWII, but I’ll add two more.

 

TJ went off to college to follow in the footsteps of her mentor, Grace Kimball. She was going to become an English major and teach on the college level. But something happened during her college experience that set her on a new path to eventually become a police detective. What shattering event changed her life?

 

The third mystery novella will concern people TJ knew back in high school. Although the plot is about a murder in the present day, there are powerful forces at work, taking TJ back to the personalities and events she remembers from Endurance High School. Grace Kimball might remember her former students with the grace to give them a pass sometimes, but TJ knew who they were when they weren’t in Grace’s literature class. And her memories were often totally different from those of her mentor.

 

Stay tuned. From WWII to the present day, my readers will hear more about Detective TJ Sweeney, and that’s what they’ve been asking me to write.

 

Do your readers ever give you directions when it comes to what they want to read?

Susan Van Kirk is is the author of six Endurance Mysteries beginning with Three May Keep a Secret. Her standalone mystery, A Death at Tippitt Pond, was followed by the Art Center Mysteries: Death in a Pale Hue, Death in a Bygone Hue, and Death in a Ghostly Hue from Level Best Books. Member of MWA and past president of the Guppy Chapter of SinC. Her website: susanvankirk.com

An Interview with Susan Van Kirk by E. B. Davis

  

When Susan Van Kirk drove into little Monmouth, Illinois, in 1968—straight out of college, with her teaching degree in hand—she thought she was ready to teach English and speech to high school students. She didn't realize she would both teach and be taught by a town, a school, and the students who entered her life. A veteran of forty-four years of public high school and college teaching, Van Kirk will take you on a passionate and unforgettable journey through one teaching life. Meet her students and experience the events that molded a rookie teacher into a veteran. This montage of stories covers the years 1968 to 2008; they describe her early fears about classroom discipline, plots to overthrow "the rookie," handling drug overdoses, the devastating first student death, and a challenge to a major Kurt Vonnegut book in her classroom.

Mr. Vonnegut and Me (And Other Incredible Tales from a Teaching Life) is a second edition, and Van Kirk has added a new introduction plus updated material about where the students from the stories are now. These fifteen stories are incredible, inspiring, and filled with what makes us human.

Amazon.com

 

I’ve read all of Susan’s books, except Mr. Vonnegut And Me. Why? I guess I’m not much of a nonfiction reader, and that’s what surprised me. I started to read slowly and ended up being engrossed by her stories. For me, the times in which she taught were my history. Her first year of teaching was 1968, the year I entered 8^th grade, so when I got to high school, I might have had Mrs. Van Kirk as a teacher had I lived in Monmouth, IL.

Susan covers topics she dealt with while teaching: sexism, diversity, racism, classroom discipline, family backgrounds, pregnancy, politics, etc. We learn how much these affected her teaching and how they impacted her students.

 

This 2026 release allowed Susan to update her stories and follow her students after they left the high school, which I found very interesting, like seeing the before and after.

                                                                                                                                   E. B. Davis

 

Did retirement prompt you to reflect on your teaching, resulting in the book?  When was the book first published?

My memoir was first published as The Education of a Teacher (Including Dirty Books and Pointed Looks) in 2010. It was the first book I ever wrote, and the thought that I could write a book came about through a college professor and a college student. I was getting my master’s degree at University of Illinois, and I took a class called “reflective teaching.” The purpose was to reflect on how my values and beliefs affected the way I taught. The professor wrote on one of my papers, “You have a wonderful voice, and this story is incredible. Have you ever considered writing a book?” No, I hadn’t. Then, one of my college students said the same thing, only he was referring to an inspiring story I’d told about why teaching was an amazing profession. He suggested I write it so people who wanted to teach could read it. I did. And a magazine picked it up immediately and published it. I thought to myself, “I’ve taught for four decades and I could write a memoir that might explain what it’s like to teach.” I chose fifteen stories that were funny, sad, poignant, and thought-provoking. That became this book.

 

Is Monmouth, IL, the prototype of Endurance, the town in your first series? Why is it called “The Maple City?”

 People do, indeed, see aspects of both Monmouth and my home town, Galesburg, in my Endurance series. History is ubiquitous here. The Underground Railroad, a Lincoln-Douglas debate, Beecher Chapel (named for the brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe), the birthplace of Wyatt Earp, and the extradition hearing of the Mormon leader, Joseph Smith, were all parts of our area history. My Endurance series has a lot of Midwest history as part of the setting. Monmouth is called the Maple City because it was founded in 1831, and maple trees lined the streets of the town. Western Stoneware, our internationally-known pottery company, used a maple leaf in its logo.

 

Did your kids have trouble due to your teaching at their school? How about grading their papers?

 I taught my three children two years in a row. Fortunately, they were excellent students. We had a deal. If they had problems or concerns with other teachers, they solved those problems themselves. If they heard rumors or gossip, they didn’t tell me. They did their own homework, and I imagine they occasionally heard thoughts about me from other students in my classes. But overall, those were smooth years. It was more difficult having the children of my friends.

 

In deciding which stories to include in the book, you asked yourself which students changed your teaching and you. How do you think you changed your students, such as John Critser?

This is a long answer! John’s story, “War and Remembrance,” was the first one I wrote that was published by Teacher Magazine. It illustrates the theme of the book: the profession of teaching puts you in a position to change students’ lives, hopefully for the better. John and I had a conversation after school that I didn’t remember until twenty years later when he told me about it at a reunion. He was a junior in high school trying to decide what to do about enlisting during the Vietnam War years. He would have a number in the draft lottery, and he was having moral concerns about killing people. On the other hand, he felt he should do his duty to his country. He stopped in to see me after school on a day when I’d received a telegram that a close friend from college had been killed in that war. I was not the usual “Ms. Van Kirk” who stayed as neutral as possible in class discussions about current affairs. (I’d always encouraged my students to think for themselves and back up their beliefs with logical arguments and evidence.) But that day after school, I was a mess. I didn’t remember, years later, our conversation. But he did. And more than that, he remembered how that death affected me. The next year, he made a decision to go to college, hope not to have his number called, and if it were, to become a conscientious objector. As it turned out, his number was not called before the war ended, and he went on to become a world-renowned research scientist, and, unlike me, remembered that conversation with his weeping teacher. He told me at his twentieth reunion that but for our conversation he might have enlisted, died in that war and never married, had children, or done life-saving research. For many years, we met for coffee when he came back to visit his mother. From him I learned that sometimes you change your students’ lives by tears rather than by Shakespeare.

What quality drew the troubled girls to you? Did they see you as a strong single mother or as a teacher they could trust?

Both of these girls, names changed, came to my house to talk to me over Christmas break. They had some serious problems and felt they couldn’t talk with their parents about them. One had recently discovered she was pregnant, and the other stated she was being abused by a foster parent. At the time, I was going through a divorce, and they’d silently watched as I’d lost weight, been preoccupied, and seemed sad. I think they believed I’d understand their very serious problems. I imagine they saw me as trustworthy and someone juggling a lot in my life. Their stories illustrate yet another moral dilemma. As a teacher, I couldn’t tell them what to do. I was legally required by the abuse situation to turn it in to child protective services. I did. The other was a situation where it was up to the student and her parents to make a decision about her pregnancy. I convinced her to talk with her parents, and we used role-playing to decide how she’d do this. Their stories illustrate some of the moral dilemmas teachers face when dealing with teenagers.

 

Trying to maintain discipline in the classroom led to nightmares for you. Did this problem get better with time and experience?

Absolutely it did. When you see my photo on the book cover, I was twenty-two. It was my second year of teaching, and my students were 17 or 18. Maintaining discipline was a real learning curve. Eventually, I was able to balance a sense of humor with definite rules and outcomes. I was never a friend to my students. I respected them, and I would say they respected me. Over the years, I learned that balance. This is why people are a much better teachers as time goes by. Experience really makes a difference.

 

Was your personal life affected by the expectation of professional behavior and decorum outside of school? 

It definitely was in a small town, especially when I first started teaching. I couldn’t walk into a bar, and if I went out to a restaurant with friends and had a drink, it was all right. But if students were working there, they might see me, and it would be discussed with their friends. Because I was married, I didn’t have to worry about the dating game and students talking. But teachers back then were held to a higher standard. There was a moral turpitude clause in our contracts, and being picked up for a DUI would definitely end a career.

 

When one set of parents tried to censor the reading of Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut, I wondered about their daughter. You didn’t influence her selection of the book. You allowed her to pick another book. You never knew how she felt about the book. Do you know what happened to her?

No, I don’t. Her parents still live in town, and I see them occasionally. Their daughter left town and has a life somewhere. I believe she got caught up in that situation and possibly lied, telling her parents she was required to read the book for my class. She wasn’t. I’m certainly not naïve enough to believe teenagers always tell the truth when they might get into trouble. It was a book she selected. But the parents really blew it all up and went to the principal, superintendent, the media, the school board, and didn’t talk to me. I would have given her a different book. But it was way-out crazy by the time it all ended after six weeks. And one of my children was in the class, so she was his friend. Now that was a difficult line to manage. It was a textbook case of a book challenge.

How did you connect to those featured students to find out how they led their lives?

I knew a student in town who knew “where all the bodies were.” I found many of them via social media, but if I couldn’t, she helped me find some of them. A few had kept in touch with me. One had passed away last year, and that was a blow. I knew the city where he lived and came upon his obituary. Mostly, the internet was very helpful. I don’t always say that! It was amazing to reconnect with them and hear how their lives had gone. They are doing incredible things, and they came from such a tiny town. Midwesterners from small towns are often known for their kindness. They sure showed me that continued to be true.

 

Why is it that some people determine their futures and others drift without direction? Is it family background, talent, or personality?

Good grief, Elaine. If I knew the answer to this question, I’d bottle it and make millions. It’s a combination of all of those things plus a bit of luck along the way. One of my children went to college not knowing what he wanted to do. He thought about teaching, but I knew that wasn’t for him. He drifted in that direction. But finally, through classes and reflection, he ended up in a job that was perfect for his personality. In his case, college exposed him to a lot of possibilities, and he was open to testing it all out. So, sure, it’s those items you listed. But never discount luck. I often enjoy going back to reunions of my former students because I enjoy hearing what happened to them after school.

 

Would you change anything in your career and/or student interactions if you could?

I was very fortunate. I could usually find positive qualities in most of the students I taught. Teaching was the perfect vocation for me. I wish I could have gone back to graduate school before I had a family. But in those days, the social pressure was to marry and have children. And once I became a single mother, going back to school was impossible. On the other hand, graduate school after all that experience made my understanding of education discussions richer. So, who knows? I wouldn’t exchange those years for anything.