I just spent a week on the Oregon Coast with a granddaughter. She is the one most like me. Whenever we’re together we have lots of laughs and fun conversations.
Nearly every day as we were out walking, either on the beach, around town, or through an old growth cedar walk, we would have different versions of things.
On the beach, she saw a man digging with shovel at the base of the grass embankment. She said, “Look he’s digging for gold.” I said, “He could be preparing a hole to bury someone. But in the daylight that’s kind of risky.” My granddaughter looked at me and said, “Why would it be risky?” “Because it’s daylight and someone could mention they saw him digging.” She shook her head and said, “It’s gold.”
As we were walking through four foot high skunk cabbage, old growth cedar trees, bushes, and water on a wood walkway, we noticed there were some houses not too far away and then a trail leading off through the marsh toward the houses. My granddaughter said, “Looks like some people like to go exploring off the walkway.” “I said, “No that’s the trail of the serial killer who lives in one of those houses and comes here to find a victim.” She stopped stared at me, then the trails and said, “Thanks. Now I’m not going to be able to enjoy it.” When we reached the end where this hundred year old, deformed and huge tree was, there was a picnic table and a bench. A man in his thirties sat on the bench wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. We walked by him and my granddaughter whispered, “There’s the serial killer.” I nodded and said, “He’s waiting for an unsuspecting woman who is alone.”
Walking around the small beach town, we were admiring the kept up yard and looking at the cute little houses. We passed a house that had a couple of boards on the windows and looked uninhabited. My granddaughter remarked how it was out of place among the other well kept houses. I said, “There’s probably a body in there and whoever put the body in there didn’t want it to become known, so they don’t live there and won’t sell it. Just let it decay like the corpse inside.”
My granddaughter stopped, put her hands on her hips and said, “Grams, you are always thinking about murder.” I replied, “That is what I write. I’m always working out ways a body can be killed or how someone might try to cover it up for my books.”
“Doesn’t that depress you?” she asked.
“Nope. I find it fascinating and exhilarating to come up with something that readers may not have read before.”
And that is how my brain is working 75% of the time. Even on vacation.
This month I’m celebrating my 20th year as a published author. Come by my Author Paty Jager Facebook page and leave a comment to win prizes.
Ladies of Mystery 
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