So, it’s not surprising I finally got around to having my newly downsized law librarian and self-proclaimed private investigator, Pat Pirard, get hired to work with an attorney on jury selection in what seems like an open-and -hut murder trial.

I always wanted to be seated on a jury, but during the selection process the question would always come up, “Are there any police officers in your family?” I was an only child, but I had cousins, two identical twins who were raised like my brothers who were both cops. Yes, I loved both of them, probably worshipped them because they were three years older than me, but I would try to explain that one became a police officer because he was a bit of a bully and probably enjoyed the power he had over others when he was in uniform and the other twin was knocked unconscious with his own billie club while trying to reason with a suspect during an arrest. He joined the police force to serve and protect (he was also deathly afraid of spiders.)

I figured knowing such different cops well made me especially qualified to be neutral and listen to the facts in a trial rather than being swayed by police testimony. Unfortunately, I never persuaded the judge and was always dismissed before I was sworn in to a jury.

My degree in behavioral science may have contributed to my fascination with juries, too. I was one of those people who had a professor who hired acting students to rush into the classroom unannounced and do outlandish things before rushing out again and then asking us to write down answers to questions about what we had just seen. In a classroom of thirty students, none of us agreed on everything we had witnessed. That experience taught me that firsthand witness accounts aren’t necessarily a recitation of facts, but can sometimes be influenced by a witnesses’ perception of what was happening.I relished the idea of studying the body language of witnesses during testimony and knew some of the tricks about watching where their eyes went as they recalled what happened to judge whether they were recalling an incident or making it up as they testified. I devoured articles about how to spot a lie. I wanted to use what I learned, but never had a chance.

One time when I was called for jury duty, but not called to the jury box, I returned to the courtroom and took notes about how the attorneys used their preemptory challenges to remove jurors. I was so fascinated by their logic—which struck me as being the reverse of what I thought it should have been—that I came back for the entire trial to see if it made any more sense to me.

What’s the cliché, “if you can’t do, teach?” I think writing about an experience you haven’t had works as well so I always wanted to incorporate jury selection in a mystery I wrote. In “What Lucy Heard,” I finally got my chance.

My protagonist, Pat Pirard, is modeled on a real person also named Pat. Both Pats were the Santa Cruz Law Librarian for many years, both carry a 357 Magnum gun and know how to use it, and both are unlicensed private investigators.  I rely on the real Pat for information about some of the tools she uses in her investigations, not to mention her myriad ideas based on cases she’s worked, but it took me until this year to finally ask her if she’d ever done any jury selection. The response I got was not the one I expected. She said, “Oh, yes, and never again.”

“Why, what happened?” I asked.

“It was a murder case. I wanted to meet the accused and decide if I believed his story before I agreed to work on jury selection. When I met him, I believed him, and went to work. I used every idea I had about jury selection—some of my ideas were unconventional—but they worked and he was acquitted. The only problem was that after the trial, I began to have doubts about his innocence. I didn’t sleep for four months worrying about what I had done until the real killer was caught and confessed. Never again. I can’t take that kind of stress.”

Oh, what fun! I was flooded with ideas about what to look for in a potential juror and Pat shared her secrets for her work about who to fight to seat and who to challenge. The real Pat’s experience took place before the incursion of social media into everyone’s life so I added some research using it. Of course I changed details about the murder, the accused, and the motive for murder, but starting “What Lucy Heard“ with jury selection and the impact Pat’s work had on the trial outcome was a joy for me to write.

The meaning of the word grit when used to described a person states “courage and resolve; strength of character.” At least, that’s what the Oxford Dictionary says. I like to think I have grit. But I don’t like the word so much. Grit. Naw. Not a great word.

Now grits. I can get behind grits. And often do. Back to the Oxford Dictionary: “A dish of coarsely ground corn kernels boiled in water or milk.” I like my grits in the morning with bacon and eggs. I like cheesy grits. I like buttery grits. Some people like their grits plain, just a little salt and pepper. I can do that, although I really prefer them with lots of butter or cheese. Whoops! I think I said that.

Moving on to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary on the word gritty. When applied to a person it means “Having strong qualities of tough uncompromising realism. A gritty novel.” Unfortunately, I don’t write gritty. I write cozy. I rarely read gritty, either. I like happy endings or at the very least, ones with justice. And I don’t like too much suffering, especially with an animal. If a novel gets too gritty for me (or a movie) I give it a toss. I try to protect myself.

I didn’t used to be like that, but I learned my lesson the hard way. After reading The Pawnbroker at sixteen years old, I didn’t sleep for three nights. I cried all the time. It’s the story of a WWII concentration camp survivor and it was beyond tough to read. In my teens, this book taught me that I don’t have the “4th wall” that most people do. I was traumatized by the book but in a way, it was a good thing. If I had any childish illusions about sadism, concentration camps, and human suffering, this book dispelled them. It also turned me into an adult overnight. I have never been the same after reading it. That is the power of a novel. That is the power of the written word.

Now in all fairness, The Pawnbroker was beyond gritty. But I find the older I get, the more precious life becomes. The more I respect goodness, kindness, and generosity of spirit. I’ve also been through enough gritty things in my own life that I don’t want to spend time reading about other’s grittiness. Plus, if I want to be scared out of my wits, despondent, or depressed I have but to turn on the six o’clock news or step on a scale.

So, I think I’ve covered the three words, grit, grits, and gritty. And give me grits every time.

Hello, Ladies ~

As Thanksgiving approaches, I find myself reminiscing about last year’s holiday, which was the last family celebration I had with my sister, Lori, and uncle, Terry. Of course, we never truly know when we’ll be called home, but I sensed at the time that it would be their last holiday season here on earth.

Every effort was made to enjoy all the trappings and food that come with Thanksgiving and Christmas. We cooked, laughed, and took lots of pictures to capture the special moments.

As I put up my authentic, fake Christmas tree today, a pang of nostalgia pricked my heart knowing I will most likely never trapse through the woods in search of the perfect Noble tree. Large family holiday gatherings are now a thing of the past with the loss of my sister and uncle.

My mini-melancholy vacation was interrupted when one of my Beta readers called with input on “Chaos in Cabo.”

“I loved this book, Kimila,” she said. “I think this is the best book you’ve written so far. I loved all of the emotional turmoil your main characters faced. Their struggles brought them to life, and I couldn’t wait to see how they worked through their issues.”

I choose Beta readers who I know will always be honest with me. I appreciate being told what is wrong with a character or storyline. Knowing where the problems are helps me rewrite the book and bring everything into a better light.

When I finished “Chaos in Cabo,” I didn’t think it was very good. I attributed my concerns to the fact that the book had been written in starts and stops due to the rough journeys of my sister and uncle. Every time I stopped working on the book, I would lose track of the character arcs and storyline. When I was able to get back to writing, I’d have to read from the beginning to reintroduce myself to the story and find my rhythm.

I’ve never suffered from writer’s block, but the weight of my family’s struggles kept me off balance. And then there are those emotions … sadness, anger, confusion, hopelessness … and many more.

Had my emotions bled into my writing? Did the upheaval in my life thread its way into my characters’ lives? Could it be I had channeled my cornucopia of feelings into my story?

“Chaos in Cabo” had three Beta readers, and I was anxious to hear what the other two had to say. When my next reader texted to see if I could talk about the book, I said I’d call her from my car. “No,” she texted, “I want you to focus on what I have to say, so call when you can listen.”

Alarm bells went off, but I called as soon as I could. Her first words were, “This is the best book yet! The characters were so interesting, I didn’t want their stories to end.”

The conversation continued and was similar to what my first Beta reader said. Imagine my delight when I received the same fabulous feedback from Beta reader number three.

I think as writers we bring parts of ourselves and our lives into the stories we write. Maybe it’s a favorite childhood memory that we have a character share with readers. Or a broken heart served up at the hands of a partner who cheated or left without a valid reason. Then there’s the void left in your life when someone dies.

In “Chaos in Cabo,” my heroine, Detective Socorro Cortés, enlists the help of her former fiancé to solve the murder of his niece’s boyfriend. While trying to solve a murder that she thinks is linked to a scam calling crew, she has to deal with another ex who is trying to win her back. Oh, the emotional rollercoaster she rides!

Lieutenant Amado Peña just wants to help his niece and leave Cabo San Lucas as soon as possible. He knows he can’t risk having Coco break his heart again. But when he’s drawn into her efforts to solve two crimes she believes are connected, he finds himself also wondering whether he still has feelings for Socorro Cortés. Can a broken heart learn to love again?

Alida Burton has two goals in life: to remove abusive men from the planet. And to make as much money as possible from unsuspecting marks. Given her cruel treatment at the hands of previous males, Alida has no intentions of falling in love—ever—until she meets Antonio Ruiz. Could it be that even someone as damaged as Alida can overcome her hatred and trust a man?

The wonderful feedback from my Beta readers has reminded me that even the hardest times in our lives can produce small blessings. “Chaos in Cabo” might have taken longer than my normal timeline to write, but I’m thankful that my emotional baggage allowed me to create unforgettable characters with stories that readers don’t want to end.

Ladies ~ I hope your Thanksgiving holiday brings much joy and many blessings. Gobble, Gobble!!!