Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #mystery. Show all posts

Monday, September 1, 2014

Deborah Coonts Visits our Haven this week!




Trouble always comes in threes.  At least that’s what Lucky O’Toole, the VP of Customer Relations for Las Vegas’ primo Strip casino/hotel, the Babylon, has heard for years from her mother.  So, tonight, when Teddie, her former lover shows up at her office unannounced and very unexpected, her father offers Teddie a job at the Babylon, she is called to deal with a pig in residence at one of the hotels most exclusive and opulent suites, and Lucky’s current lover, Jean-Charles Bouclet stops answering his phone leaving Lucky to handle his five-year-old son, Lucky figures she has tonight’s compliment of chaos covered.

Monday, August 4, 2014

More from Stranger at Sunset's - Eden Baylee


Have you read Eden Baylee's 
Latest Release? 


Vacation can be a killer. 

Dr. Kate Hampton, a respected psychiatrist, gathers with a group of strangers at her favorite travel spot, Sunset Villa in Jamaica. Included in the mix are friends of the owners, a businessman with dubious credentials, and a couple who won the trip from a TV game show.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Stranger at Sunset.....Eden Baylee stops by to say Hello

An Amazing Interview with Eden Baylee!
 
 
We're sitting in lounge chairs, sipping afternoon cocktails while overlooking the Caribbean Sea at our Sunset Villa in Jamaica, the tropical resort where Eden's latest book, Stranger at Sunset takes place.


 

 
Avid Readers: Tell us a bit about yourself that our readers might not know.

Eden: Firstly, thank you for hosting my interview, so lovely of you! The first time we spoke, your readers knew me as an author of erotica who wrote novellas and short stories. My current book, Stranger at Sunset is different in two respects. It’s a departure in genre -- a psychological mystery/thriller, and it’s also a full-length novel.

Avid Readers: As authors, we’re sometimes accused of being several people. How many personalities live in your mind?

Eden: Ha Ha! Touche! Too many to count some days. I talk to each of my characters, and I’m a silent observer when they talk amongst themselves. I make up conversations in my head all the time. It’s how I come up with most of my dialogue.

 
Avid Readers: How many plots do you include in one of your books?

Eden: That really depends and is based on the complexity of the story. With Stranger at Sunset, there
is one over-riding plotline, which is: How will the owners of a resort in Jamaica save their business after a scathing review? In addition to this are secondary plots, which have more to do with how characters will resolve their differences.

In my short stories, there were not enough words to cover more than one central plot, with a minor sub-plot.

 
Avid Readers:  Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.

Eden: In a word—Quiet. I usually get up between 7 and 9, take care of social media/networking/reading blogs/emails before noon. After that, I write, and that can be writing for guest blogs, my blog, and my upcoming book. Somewhere in between all this, I find time to eat, meditate, and exercise. I usually go to bed between midnight and two in the morning.

If I end the day with at least 2000 good words toward my book, I’m happy. Not very exciting, but I love it.

Avid Readers: What do you do to relax?

Eden: I love water. In the summer, I have access to a lake and water sports – swimming, kayaking, canoeing. I also have a boating license, but I prefer non-motorized vehicles. I  enjoy being alone in the middle of a still lake. It’s the perfect place to dream

Monday, June 16, 2014

Paranormal lighthouse mystery - Whispers at Ghost Point

Deanna Jewel
Romance Author

Enjoy this week's excerpt from Whispers at Ghost Point:


Goosebumps covered Dana’s arms just thinking of the ghosts. Had her interest stirred up more than she ever dreamed of? Had Sarah just been in contact with it? Dana glanced toward the tower, then pulled one knee up to her chest, resting her foot on the edge of her chair. She looked into Sarah’s eyes in search of answers and gripped Sarah’s hand. “What kind of message did you just receive from over there? Your color is gone so...I know you got something!”

Taking another swallow of wine, Sarah gazed back toward the tower and stared for a long time, as though she could see someone in the light tower. Sarah squeezed Dana’s hand. “Can you feel him pull on you at night when you’re here alone?” She turned back and met Dana’s gaze. “Because he does, you know.”

Again, goose bumps covered Dana’s arms even though the warm breeze surrounded them. Dare she tell Sarah about the cold air that envelopes her when she stands in the dark, alone at her window?
She changed her mind and sipped her wine, then attempted to change the subject. “How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

“Are you serious? You know I can do that. I can sense both male and female spirits. It might take me a bit of time to figure out what they want and why, but I know what I know. For some reason, he’s picked you.”
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Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Show some love to The Romance Reviews for their 3rd Anniversary!


3rd Anniversary Party!

     Head over to The Romance Reviews site to get in on their month long party and prize giveaways. Authors are there showing off new books and you may even find an author new to you. Have fun and good luck to everyone!
     Please use the share buttons to tweet and post on your FaceBook page so others can join in on the fun. Thank you!

Monday, May 13, 2013

Meet Award Winning Romance Author, Meg Mims! Contest Alert!


Meg Mims
Romance Author
       This week's author is going to take us back in time to attend a banquet at the Ebner Hotel in Sacramento, California 1869 to get us ready for her books, so we hope all of you have dressed for the occasion. If not, step over to our dressing room and find a gown that fits. I know we'll all look fabulous.
      At the bottom is Meg's Contest so do leave a comment with your email addy and e-book format to be in. Here's a sample of the gowns and the menu for the ball!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

Reader’s Haven: Meg, what a wonderful party! We know everyone will have a great time. *spreading our fans for the gentlemen) Tell us a bit about yourself...Your gown is beautiful, by the way.


Meg: Thank you! I thought a ball would be fun. I’m an artist in watercolor, acrylic and pen/ink media. I find it very relaxing! 

Reader’s Haven: What made you want to become a writer?

Meg: When I first started reading the Boxcar Children mysteries, I knew I wanted to write my own stories. I did a lot of reading first - and waited till I was married with a baby to start.

Reader’s Haven: Please share a bit about your new release, Double or Nothing, without giving away any spoilers.



Meg: The book is the sequel to my Spur Award-winning novel, Double Crossing. Lily Granville finds herself in more trouble when her guardian announces her engagement to a hand-picked suitor. But she is in love with Ace Diamond, the Texan renegade who saved her life on the journey to California — a man her uncle is determined to keep away at all cost. Ace is just as determined to prove himself worthy of Lily’s hand, but is framed for murder after a dynamite explosion. Will Lily be able to save him from the hangman’s noose?

Reader’s Haven: Do you write under a pen name?

Meg:  Meg Mims is my pen name. I use “Meg” in memory of my niece who was killed in an automobile accident.

Reader’s Haven: That's a warm gesture and a way to honor her memory. What types of hero or heroine do you like best?


Meg:  I love a heroine who is independent and intuitive with plenty of courage.  I prefer a hero who isn’t totally alpha nor totally beta -- a mix of both is best! Ace is pretty gruff, and comes across as a real mercenary when Lily first meets him, but he has a heart of gold.

Reader’s Haven: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.


Meg:  I’m ruled by my dogs! They get me up at 7 a.m., I let them out, feed/water them, then the cat, before my own breakfast and coffee. Then I get busy writing and catching up on mail and social media -- in between all the trips outside/back inside, barking at squirrels or the mailman, trucks, etc. It’s not quiet, that’s for sure. They let me know what they want! Even my poor husband comes second.

Reader’s Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?


Meg:  Pretty much solid mysteries. Even the short novellas I’ve written have a touch of intrigue going on, so I guess that’s what I love best. Justice must be served in the end.


Reader’s Haven: How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?


Meg:  I used to write a first draft in six months, then edit for a few more. Now I’m trying to get a first draft down in half that time, as long as it’s quality work, and edit for another month. Whew.



Reader’s Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?



Meg:  I prefer it, but it doesn’t usually happen! There’s either a cat, a dog or two, or my husband, the TV blaring, the phone ringing... I often put my headphones on and listen to music while I write.


Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?

Meg:  The characters usually introduce themselves, LOL. Either in my head, or I get a sense if a certain name is right or not. Lily in the Double series was first Julia, but she really didn’t like that name. Then she became Caroline - nope. Finally Lily seemed to fit. Ace was always Ace due to his poker-playing, and he wouldn’t tell ME his Christian name until Lily asked him.

Reader’s Haven: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?


Meg: Usually I have the character in mind with their traits, and then photos “cement” them into place for deepening their characters. I used the silent screen actress Mary Miles Mintner for Lily, and the 1970s actor Pete Duel for Ace - both had tragic lives, so I felt I was giving them a “fresh” chance to find a happier ending. Here's a blurb for each book:

DOUBLE CROSSING ... August, 1869: Lily Granville is stunned by her father’s murder. Only one other person knows about a valuable California gold mine deed — both are now missing. Lily heads west on the newly opened transcontinental railroad, determined to track the killer. She soon realizes she is no longer the hunter but the prey. As things progress from bad to worse, Lily is uncertain who to trust—the China-bound missionary who wants to marry her, or the wandering Texan who offers to protect her … for a price. Will Lily survive the journey and unexpected betrayal? 

DOUBLE OR NOTHING ... October, 1869: Lily Granville finds herself in more trouble when her guardian announces her engagement to a hand-picked suitor. But she is in love with Ace Diamond, the Texan renegade who saved her life on the journey to California — a man her uncle is determined to keep away at all cost. Ace is just as determined to prove himself worthy of Lily’s hand, but is framed for murder after a dynamite explosion. Will Lily be able to save him from the hangman’s noose?


Reader’s Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?

Meg: That always comes first when I have an idea, before the characters. With the Double series, I was inspired by Charles Portis’ True Grit, plus the movies, and the premise of “girl’s father is killed, she decides to track down murderer.” But I twisted it to make Lily a sheltered, wealthy 19-year-old, fairly naive, who travels on the newly opened transcontinental railroad instead of a horse. Ace is Rooster Cogburn and LaBoeuf rolled into one, with his own quirks. In Double or Nothing, California plays a big role, so I researched the setting before deciding on the story’s premise.     I'd like to share an excerpt if I may:

1869, California
I jumped at a screeching whistle. Men swarmed over the distant slope like bees over a wax honeycomb in a mad scramble. “Good heavens. What is that about?”
Uncle Harrison pulled me out of harm’s way. “They’re almost ready to begin the process of hydraulic mining,” he said and pulled his hat down to avoid the hot sun. “You’ll see. This is far better than panning for gold in a creek bed.”
“I can already see how destructive it is, given the run-off,” I said, eying the rivulets of dried mud that marked each treeless incline. “I’ve read about how the farmers can’t irrigate their fields and orchards due to the gravel and silt filling the rivers—”
Water suddenly gushed from two hydraulic nozzles in a wide, powerful stream. The men’s bulging arm muscles strained their shirts, their faces purple with the effort to control the water. I turned my gaze to the ravaged earth. Mud washed down into the wooden sluices, where other men worked at various points to spray quicksilver along the wide stretch. Others worked at a frantic pace to keep the earthy silt moving.
An older man with a grizzled goatee and worn overalls held out a canteen. “Have a sip while you’re waiting, miss,” he said. “A body gets mighty thirsty out here.”
“Thank you.”
I sipped the cold, refreshing ginger-flavored liquid that eased my parched throat. Dirt from the canteen streaked my gloves. Not that it mattered. At least the spatters of fresh mud wouldn’t show on my black mourning costume and riding boots. Two days of rain earlier in the week had not helped.
The kind man offered the canteen to Uncle Harrison, who brushed it aside with a curt shake of his head. Steaming, I bit back an apology. The man had already headed back to his position near the sluices.
Bored of watching the ongoing work, I wandered over to several horses that stood patient in the sun and patted their noses. A tooled leather saddle sat atop one gelding’s glossy brown hide, and the silver-studded bridle looked as rich. The horse gave a low whicker in greeting. If only I’d pocketed a few carrots or sugar lumps from breakfast.
“You’re a beauty. I wish I could ride you for a bit.”
The gelding’s ears dipped forward. One of the men left the knot of others in a huff. His dusty open coat swung around him as he stalked, spurs jingling, and closed the distance. He passed by me with a mere tip of his wide-brimmed hat and untied the reins. The horse pawed the ground, jittery, as if sensing the man’s foul mood while he mounted. I noted his scowl. Was he upset that I’d dared touch his property? A scruffy beard and thick black mustache hid his mouth. He rode off, keeping the gelding’s gait easy, down the gully toward the Early Bird’s entrance.
“Who was that?” I asked a miner.
The worker wiped sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. “Señor Alvarez? He’s got a burr under his blanket as usual. Pay him no mind, miss.”
I rubbed the remaining horse’s flank and glanced around the mining site. My uncle continued to chat with the foreman close to the shack near the head of the sluices. Another section of the wooden troughs was raised from the ground further north at a different bank of earth. My curiosity increased. I walked to the sluice and stared down at the filth in the bottom. No glints of gold flecked the bits of rock and slag. I had no idea what quicksilver looked like either. This whole business seemed crazy, although Uncle Harrison disagreed.
In the distance, pines smudged the lower half of the Sierra’s tiny white-capped peaks. To the west, gray clouds threatened the pale blue sky. No doubt rain would soak everything again by morning. My uncle had mentioned how winter was wetter here than back home in Chicago, or even St. Louis. I hadn’t known what to expect for autumn in California. Now that it was close to October, the stands of golden aspen on a ridge high above sported various shades of green, gold and hues of orange.
Homesickness overwhelmed me. I longed to see the brilliant shades of orange, red and yellow oaks, the thick forest of elms and birches behind my father’s house in Evanston. To ride along the shoreline of Lake Michigan’s navy waters, and watch the snow falling fast on a chilly winter’s day. I wouldn’t even mind listening to Adele Mason’s endless chatter about the latest dinner parties she attended with her many beaus.
It seemed like an eternity since I’d crossed two thousand miles of prairie and mountains on the Union and Central Pacific railroad. Donner Lake had resembled a sapphire jewel nestled among pristine snow fields. Perhaps it was frozen already.
I shivered, remembering the darkness of Summit Tunnel. It also brought back the delicious memory of feeling safe, nestled in Ace’s strong arms. Feeling the sudden shock when his tongue sought my own…
“Miss? It’s dangerous standin’ that close to the sluice. Over yonder is best.”
Guilt flooded my heart. Nodding to the man, I twisted around and glanced in the direction he indicated. My uncle remained at the shack. “Will they ever stop talking business?”
“Doubt it.” The miner was the same one who’d offered me water earlier. He carried a roll of canvas slung over a shoulder. Shrugging, he swiped his muddy goatee and cheek against his burden’s nubby surface. “Reckon they’ll yammer on for a while more.”
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
“Sure thing, miss.”
He passed by and handed the canvas to a pair of men. They unrolled it and laid the fabric inside the wooden sluice. I walked across the shifting ground, trying to avoid the worst of the mud’s damp patches. One claimed my uncle’s shoe when we arrived that morning. I fought hard not to laugh aloud, watching Uncle Harrison hop about on one foot, so comical with his blustery red face. At last a worker retrieved his shoe, mud up to his elbow, half his face coated as well. My uncle had not thanked the man for the rescue, either.
On higher ground, two workers held long snaking hoses that spurted water at the high bank. Two others sprayed quicksilver over the sluice. It didn’t look like anything but dirty water. I sighed. This entire trip had been a waste of time. Uncle Harrison resented the questions I’d peppered the foreman with and ignored my opinions on how the operation damaged the countryside. Why had he suggested I tag along in the first place?
I should have stayed back in Sacramento. My sketchbook drawings needed work. I had yet to finish anything I’d glimpsed during the journey on the train. Etta had brought all my watercolor supplies from Evanston, and most of my books too.
But I didn’t want to read or paint. A deep melancholy robbed me of energy. Nightmares haunted my sleep, of the deep ravine and the lizard I’d caught, of the sandy slope I climbed on Mt. Diablo, desperate to escape my father’s killer. Of being trapped, with no way out, and facing death, and of seeing that shocked surprise… and hearing the gunshot.
Self-defense, as Ace claimed. My uncle and the sheriff agreed.
Poor Ace. He’d felt bad afterward, forced into a cowardly deed. I had never shot anything except a badger with Father’s Navy revolver. Missed, too. But I’d tried to protect my darling pet lizard’s clutch of eggs in the garden back home. The thought of shooting a human being turned my stomach. I suppose stabbing someone wasn’t any less of a sin. Heavy guilt weighed on me. Had it been self-defense? I shuddered at the memory.
As Mother used to say, it was water under the bridge. Nothing I might say or do now would change the past. But I’d rather avoid making such a horrible choice again.
Instead I trudged toward the shack. The foreman held a large piece of blueprint paper between his hands while my uncle pointed at various sections. Two other men argued with them, their heated words carrying over the whooshing of hoses and creaks and jolts of skeleton wagons over the rutted ground. Most of their argument was peppered with technical jargon that didn’t make any sense. Even Chinese sounded more familiar.
“We haven’t made enough headway,” said a man in a tailored suit, whose gold watch chain glinted in the sun. “I say we dig out the ridge all the way.”
“You take that ridge down any more than we have and we’ll never get equipment to the furthest point of the claim, over here,” my uncle said and prodded the map. “That was Alvarez’s advice. He knows this land better than you, Williamson.”
“I agree, it’s too dangerous,” the foreman said.
 “I’m the engineer! Are you implying I don’t know my business?”
“I’m saying it’s stupid to undermine that ridge. You’re being a stubborn coot.”
“You’re a fine one to call me stubborn—”
Good heavens. I reversed direction and headed back toward the sluice. They were sure to argue for another few hours. I wanted to ride that horse, even if it meant hiking my skirts to my knees and baring my ankles. The poor animal looked like it a good run, or at least a trot over the rough ground. I had to do something productive or I’d go mad.
Steering around the same boggy patch of mud, I cut close to the sluice. A blood-curdling yell halted everyone. I whirled to see the entire bank of earth, a huge avalanche of mud, rocks and two large trees root-first, rushing straight for me.

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Twitter:  @MegMims

CONTEST:  On Saturday, May 18th, Meg will pick one commenter to win the e-book, Double or Nothing! Leave a comment with your email and e-format you need. Thank you all for stopping in!


Sunday, December 23, 2012

Meet Mystery Author Karen Hall

 Karen Hall
Mystery & Women's Fiction

     Single again, I went back to school in Rapid City at the School of Mines. I lived alone for a long time, and when I started talking back to Tom Brokaw when he said, “Goodnight” at the end of the TV news (“See you, Tom. Have a good weekend”), I realized it was time to get back out there again. The next fall I met Jeff in beginning physics class, and he eventually became my third husband. This one took. He is the third, but he’s also my final husband. In 1991, Jeff graduated in mechanical engineering and I graduated in chemical engineering and chemistry, and we moved to Minneapolis/St. Paul. I worked as an environmental engineer in the state’s largest oil refinery for eight years, then started a consulting company with another woman engineer. I wrote the first draft of my novel, Unreasonable Risk, during that time by getting up at 5:30 every morning and writing foran hour before work.
     We moved back to Rapid City in 2002, and in addition to writing, since then I’ve been involved in lots of community organizations: politics, community chorus, the photographic society, the Black Hills Writers Group, church choir, and several others. This past year I worked with many others to pass a groundwater protection ordinance governing septic system installation and inspection, and have since been appointed to the county Planning Commission. Life is never dull.
     Best of all, we are now grandparents. Our son and daughter-in-law have two girls, Annabelle and Ophelia, and our daughter and her husband have a girl, Hailee, and a boy, Dylan (named after the legendary Bob; the kids have taste). We see them as often as we can and there are, of course, pictures of them on my home page.
     Since there are no kids in the house, we’ve adopted cats. Rocky, who has toxoplasmosis (which blinded him), and Junior, cute but dumb as a post, have given us much joy and many laughs, despite the small carcasses of their prey lined up at the back door.
     Well, that’s about it. I’m about to turn 63 but still feel like 25. (You all know what I mean.) I’m president of the Black Hills Writers’ Group for a second and final year, and am enjoying that tenure, learning a lot in the process. My big news this year, though, is that the second thriller in the Hannah Morrison environmental mystery series, THROUGH DARK SPACES, is now available both in trade paperback as well as e-book format, and my first novel, UNREASONABLE RISK, will come out soon in trade paperback, too. My third novel, THE STILL HEART OF STONES, women's fiction this time, is about four women who meet as a result of their infertility and become close friends. The first draft is nearly complete, so you may see that one in print or e-book one of these days, too. I’ll keep you posted! 






Reader’s Haven: Tell us a bit about yourself  that our readers might not know. And Readers, there's a giveaway. Details below!

Karen:  I grew up in Fargo, North Dakota, where you can watch thunderstorms advance across the wide plains for hours.  It was a wonderful place – safe, flat, windy.  I remember the black winter ice that built up at intersections, lasting from November to March, as frozen exhaust added its thin layer to those laid down before.  We were hardy, wore slacks under our skirts to school and shed them when we arrived to show our bare legs, even at 20 below zero.  In summer, we swatted mosquitoes and sweltered in the humid heat, but we also swam for hours in the lakes in Minnesota’s east central region, fished, water skied and sailed with friends.  We cleaned fish and learned how to best prepare them.  I loved my local library, could hardly wait for school to start in the fall.  I guess it was a pretty idyllic childhood.

Reader’s Haven: What made you want to become a writer?

Karen: I was always a writer.  I wrote my first 8-page book, formatted and illustrated, when I was about 8.  My mom told me it was titled Old Mister Sun, but it’s been lost for decades and I have no idea what it was actually about – except the sun (duh).  I tried to write a novel when I was in my late teens, but hadn’t had enough life experience to write anything of value to readers (heck, it was barely valuable to me), so I went on with other life endeavors: marriages (3), careers (nearly too many to count), and a massive but failed effort to conceive a child.  It wasn’t until after the pain of two failed marriages and failure at conception that I came back to writing.   

Reader’s Haven: Please share a bit about your new release (enter book title) without giving away any spoilers.

Karen:  You’d think after that heartfelt confession that my novels would be full of angst and depth, but they’re really not.  Instead, they’re mysteries, thrillers based on environmental issues I’m concerned with, environmental issues that grew out of my most recent career, environmental engineering.  I’ve learned a LOT about industry in this country, and while on the whole it’s very responsible, there are things that have made my eyebrows rise.  So I’m writing about those. 

My latest title, Through Dark Spaces, deals with the hard rock gold mining industry and what can go wrong when people don’t consider how their actions can affect the environment.  Remember the coal mining disasters in West Virginia?  The one in South America that left 28 men trapped underground?  A mine is a perfect place for a thriller.  Add that my protagonist, Hannah Morrison, has trouble with claustrophobia (don’t we all?), that her high fashion model sister complicates everything in Hannah’s life (don’t they always?), and that she’s fighting not just to save her business but her life, and you’ve got the ingredients of a very personal environmental mystery.  

Reader’s Haven: Do you write under a pen name?

Karen:  Nope.  If I ever publish the book I’m working on now, though, which is not a mystery, I may consider it.  For now, I write under “Karen E. Hall.” 

Reader’s Haven: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?

Karen: I always prefer female protagonists.  I think they’re more empathetic, more emotional, that they struggle harder than men do simply because they don’t have the physical strength to get them out of jams.  They must use their wits.  Estrogen, I believe, makes for a much more real heroine than testosterone ever has. 

My heroine, Hannah, was a little too perfect in her first mystery outing, titled Unreasonable Risk. In the second in the series, I’ve given her more depth, I think, more flaws.  She’s still likeable enough, still capable, but to me she seems a lot more human. 

Reader’s Haven: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.

Karen:  Ha!  Lots of spider solitaire!  No, seriously, I’m a slow writer.  I’m very involved in my community, so find it very difficult to hole up in front of my computer for more than a couple hours at a time.  I try to write every day for at least that long, but there are days when I just can’t do it.  And I always have more than one thing going – if I’m stuck on one and start up the spider solitaire, I limit myself to a game or two and then move on to a short story or a haiku or a review of something I’ve just read.  If I find myself unable to proceed with any of my current projects, I pick up my camera and go for a long walk in the hills.

Reader’s Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?

Karen:  Right now my books are linked by my protagonist’s profession.  She’s a consulting environmental engineer, and her first two outings have been in oil refining and in gold mining.  Her next adventure will be in the oil and gas extraction industry, and the book will be set in the crazy wild west of the Bakken Oil Fields in western North Dakota. 

I am also working on a different type of novel, though, women’s fiction this time, about four women who meet as a result of their common infertility.  It’s truly the book of my heart, though right now it has some daunting structural problems.  I may have to lose one of my characters, and the prospect of choosing which one to axe has left me desolate.  It’s either that or face a manuscript that’s over 200,000 words long.

Reader’s Haven: How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?

Karen:  It takes me a good year to finish a book, and that’s if the first draft is good.  I usually go through three or four drafts, though I procrastinate because I much prefer writing to editing, and the last drafts are mostly editing.  I think editing uses different parts of the brain and requires much more discipline.  The engineer side of me loves it, but the creative side – not so much. 

Reader’s Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?

Karen:  Yes.  And I prefer quiet, too.  No music, no NPR, much as I love to keep up with Science Friday and All Things Considered.   I do carry a notebook with me always, though, and jot down ideas whenever they come to me.  I’ve actually received dirty looks in grocery store lines because I’m making notes instead of placing my items on the conveyor belt.  Sometimes it’s a note about how somebody looks or acts, sometimes it’s about the weather, and sometimes it’s a plot point that’s chosen that inopportune moment to surface in my busy head.    

Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?

Karen:  It’s always a struggle to find the perfect name.  I do cheat once in a while by using lists.  One of my favorites is a list of people who lived in a huge nursing home in Moorhead, Minnesota, when my parents were both there.  Those names remind me of my childhood, and though they’re mostly Scandinavian, they’re perfect for the generation slightly older than I am. 

As an experiment, I did “sell” a couple of character names in Through Dark Spaces in a charitable auction.  The bidding was spirited and made quite a bit of money for the organization.  It was hard to change the names of characters I’d grown to know, though, and I’m not sure I’ll do that again.  Amazingly enough, the people who “bought” those character names all signed a copy of the book for me.  It’s truly a collector’s copy!

Reader’s Haven: Is it easier to write about the characters if you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character pictures?

Karen:  Boy, I never know what my characters look like.  I’m a strong believer in letting them grow in the reader’s mind with very little description.  When people ask me which actors and actresses should play my characters in “the movie,” I’m always at a loss for an answer.  Though I do love Claire Danes.

The one exception in Through Dark Spaces is Hannah’s model sister, Maddie.  I described her more thoroughly than I usually do, principally because her beauty provokes those pangs of sibling rivalry in Hannah. 

Reader’s Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?

Karen:  Great question. In many mystery series, I find that two things are true:
1) If the sleuth is an amateur, the series risks the “Cabot Cove” syndrome, where people die entirely too often and in too many different ways.
2)  If the sleuth is a private investigator or a law enforcement officer, the characters new to the series are usually either the victim or the killer.

In order to avoid both of those, I’ve made my protagonist a consultant who travels from industry to industry.  I think the next one, after oil and gas extraction, will be either the dairy or cosmetics industry.  How’s that for variety? 

Moving from location to location and industry to industry causes its own set of problems, of course.  Not only does the reader have to learn the terminology specific to that industry, but she has to absorb a whole new set of characters, too.  It’s one of the reasons why I play so much spider solitaire.      


Contest giveaway:  I’ll give away a print copy of Through Dark Spaces, signed with a personalized note if that’s preferred, to the most interesting comment.   


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