Report On The LCC Conference I Didn’t Attend by Heather Haven

~ Heather Haven ~ 11 Comments

I’d been waiting all year for the 2025 Left Coast Crime Conference to happen. I signed up for it sometime in the summer of 2024. My husband, Norm, and I made reservations on the Amtrak going from Emeryville, California, to Denver, Colorado. We were going to join friend and fellow writer, Janet Dawson, on the 36-hour train ride across the Rockies, play cards and scrabble, eat wonderful meals, and arrive in Denver in time to check in for the conference on Wednesday evening. I had registered and paid for the conference and bought tickets to the Awards Dinner for Norm and me. I was on a fun panel. We had airline tickets to fly home Sunday evening at the end of the conference. There was even an afternoon tea at the famous Brown’s Hotel on the agenda. All was right with the world, and the trip was planned to the last detail. But pass the cheese, please. The best-laid plans of mice and men.

6 days before we were to leave, I started coughing. I wasn’t too worried. I had nearly a week to shake this, right? Besides, I had all the vaccinations you can have. Nothing could happen, right? Wrong. Each day the coughing, sneezing, wheezing, and congestion got worse. On the 4th day of this scourge, I saw my doctor and got tested. No Covid, RSV, or flu. Just one of your common, every day, unnamed viruses that knocks your socks off for at least 10 to 14 days. Stay home, drink plenty of liquids, take whatever over-the-counter meds make you feel better, and ride it out. That’ll be $25, please. Thank you, Doctor. I could have told you that and saved myself 25 bucks and a trip to Kaiser. I have since named the unnamed virus. After all, they name hurricanes, and this was my very own personal hurricane. I call it Fred.

But I digress. So, home I went, feeling enormously sorry for myself. I crawled back into bed, Norm brought me chamomile tea, the cats cuddled, and I resigned myself. We were scheduled to leave for Denver in three days, and I could barely lift my head from the pillow. There was no way I could make this trip. Even Norm, Mister-You-Can-Do-It, shook his head in sympathy. Time to put on my Big Girl Panties, so to speak, and let friends, associates, and fellow writers know I wasn’t coming to LCC this year. My life was over. Well, not really. But when one feels like a bucket of horse manure and locked out of one of the most wonderful and fun times of the year, one is allowed to go there. So, there I went.

It was short-lived. Soon, I got texts and pictures from the train taken by our wonderful Janet, who was disappointed we couldn’t join her but was making the best of it. In those brief moments, I felt a part of the trip, enjoying the shared moments. Janet continued to send me highlights of the trip, conference, and even the high tea at Brown’s. Then a few other pals wrote emails or sent me texts, some with pictures. Even the panel moderator, Chris Dreith, decided not to replace me with another writer but wanted me to answer the same questions she would have asked had I been there. Chris made a sock puppet in my image. I gotta tell you, the resemblance is uncanny. See right. Using her ventriloquist skills, Chris used the sock to voice my answers. Then she gave the puppet sock and my latest book to a contest “winner,” Grace Koshida, who happens to be the Fan of Honor at the conference. Because Grace is a sweetheart, she alerted me on Facebook about this and included more wonderful pictures.

I may not have been at the conference, but so many people went out of their way to include me and make sure I knew I was missed, like Baird Nuckolls pictured left, that I feel warm all over when I think about it. I am well now, but I am keeping the emails, texts, and pictures sent by my friends and associates from LCC 2025 for the future. If I ever feel sorry for myself, that nobody cares, and I’d better eat some worms, before I get out the frying pan I’m going to remember this incident. I’m going to be thankful I live in a world with friends who are mystery writers and readers because, surely, they are the most thoughtful and kindest people on the planet.

Guest Blogger ~ Erica Miner

~ patyjag ~ 5 Comments

Overture to Murder: a violinist who won’t quit sleuthing

It’s strange how a standalone mystery can evolve into a series. I started off with just one book, Aria for Murder, inspired by my 21 years of experience playing violin at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. The protagonist, young violinist Julia, trades her violin for a detective’s hat as she finds herself investigating murders that take place on and offstage. I had fun weaving real operas into the mystery plot and was gratified at the number of readers who told me they enjoyed learning about opera for the first time. It never occurred to me to write a sequel until one of my fans asked me for one. As a savvy opera aficionado who knew the opera world inside out, he even specified that Book 2 should take place at the Santa Fe Opera.

I jumped at the idea. Though I had never visited Santa Fe, I knew that its opera house, an outdoor theatre set between two mysterious mountain ranges, would be the ideal setting for an opera mystery. Prelude to Murder was the result. While I was in Santa Fe researching the book, I met with a friend, the dramaturg of the San Francisco Opera who, when I revealed my work in progress, asked if I would be interested in writing a third mystery to take place at his company. Book 3, Overture to Murder,was born a year later.

In the story, a suspicious hit-and-run and subsequent backstage murder drive Julia to continue her relentless sleuthing as she investigates deadly secrets behind the music. Can she uncover the truth before the curtain falls on her family’s safety? The answers lie in Overture to Murder. As always, Julia manages to find trouble lurking in every dark hallway and back stairway of the San Francisco Opera, proving once again that an opera house is the perfect environment for mischief and mayhem.

But there were other reasons why I decided to set my third mystery at San Francisco Opera. First of all, San Francisco is one of the world’s most captivating cities. And it considers its opera only slightly less sacred than the Holy Grail. It’s totally an opera town. It’s also a city of mystery and suspense. Witness “Haunted SF Ghosts, Murder and Mystery: a dark and ghastly tour through the mysterious past of downtown alleys and streets. Get haunted by after-dark tales of strange deaths, ruthless villains, famed ghosts, and shocking assassins.” Oh yes. There’s more to the scary aspects of this city than meets the eye.

My most compelling motivation, however, was my personal history with San Francisco’s War Memorial Opera House. Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time there, visiting close relatives and friends who have worked with this illustrious company. When I started researching Overture to Murder, I learned about the fascinating history connecting the opera company with the Gold Rush and other astonishing aspects of the city’s history. But this time, as my friend who had motivated my desire to write the mystery showed me the opera house from top to bottom, I developed a special new intimacy with the place. What I discovered was a theatre steeped in intrigue, with dark creepy basements, ancient creaky elevators, and terrifying catwalks; a place with its own ghosts, whose stories could curl your ears.

What better place to set a mystery?

Overture to Murder

High notes of suspense and danger as the curtain comes down on murder in the third novel of Erica Miner’s Julia Kogan Opera Mystery series. Young Metropolitan Opera violinist Julia heads to the San Francisco Opera to replace ailing concertmaster, Ben, who has suffered serious injuries in a hit-and-run accident. Julia suspects it was no accident, and when one prominent company member becomes the victim of a grisly murder, she cannot resist becoming involved in the investigation. As in her previous sleuthing at the Met and Santa Fe Opera in Books 1 &2, Julia finds danger lurking in the elegant but creepy San Francisco War Memorial Opera house and again finds herself face to face with a ruthless killer. But this time her courage is put to the test when the life of a precious family member is in even deeper peril.

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/Overture-Murder-Julia-Kogan-Mystery/dp/1685127819/

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/overture-to-murder-erica-miner/1146432661?ean=9781685127817

https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/book/9781685127817

Award-winning Seattle-based author, lecturer, screenwriter, and arts journalist Erica Miner believes opera theatres and fiery artistic temperaments are a chilling backdrop for murder, and perfect for creating fictional mischief! Drawing on her 21 years as a violinist at the famed Metropolitan Opera, Erica’s fanciful plot fabrications reveal the dark side of the fascinating world of opera in her Julia Kogan Opera Mystery series (Level Best Books): Aria for Murder (2022), finalist in the 2023 CIBA and Eric Hoffer Book Awards; Prelude to Murder (2023), a Distinguished Favorite in the 2024 NYC Big Book Awards;and Book 3, Overture to Murder (2024), a Distinguished Favorite in the 2025 Independent Press Awards.

Erica’s debut novel, Travels with My Lovers, won the Fiction Prize in the Direct from the Author Book Awards. Her screenplays have won awards in the Writer’s Digest, Santa Fe, and WinFemme competitions. When she isn’t plumbing the depths of opera houses for murderous mayhem, Erica frequently contributes reviews and interviews for the well-known arts websites https://classicalvoiceamerica.org, www.bachtrack.com, and www.BroadwayWorld.com.

Erica has lectured on opera and writing throughout the US, as well as in Australia.

Social Media:

https://www.facebook.com/erica.miner1

https://www.instagram.com/emwriter3/

Author Website:

https://www.ericaminer.com

Guest Blogger ~ John Ferriso

~ patyjag ~ 3 Comments

Why I Write True Crime.            

Many things can lead us to write down our stories. My writing journey did not just begin; it was always there. As a child, I would remember an incident and retell it to anyone interested. A television show or a stickball game were topics that, years later, I retold to my friends and family. As a child, I watched the police-related television drama Barney Miller, and its dry cop humor interested me. Hill Street Blues had the precinct crime that I enjoyed. Movies like Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, and Fort Apache the Bronx showed the gritty portrayal of street-level crime; I was hooked and wanted in on the action.    

Growing up in New York, the nightly news inspired me to want a career in law enforcement. I watched the nightly news as the reporters talked about the 44 Caliber killer who murdered his victims; the newspapers referred to him as the Son of Sam. I looked at the morning newspaper headlines and the horrible photos of the women shot. My neighbors talked about him, and teenage girls had their hair color changed. I understood that the Police were looking for the guy. I was fascinated with the stories adults told about the crimes and the ongoing investigations described.

I read true crime, which interested me. I was a reader before my NYPD career and my writing endeavor began. I was in college when I read about the suspects, the investigations surrounding them, and the detectives who hunted them down.

I was in college, working at a sports bar, and waiting to get called to the police academy. I was standing near the waiter’s station, pondering my future law enforcement career. I had a few tables and only a few dollars in my pocket. It would be five more months until the police academy; what type of cop would I become? I will write down what I experienced in the NYPD.

My childhood dream of being in law enforcement propelled me to write. To become a writer, you must focus on what interests you. I no longer needed to listen to the stories of other cops: I was living the same short stories I once read about. I took note cards to work and scribbled pencils to paper my thoughts and engaging experiences. I kept these notecards secret from my co-workers; it was my writing journey.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was working in Lower Manhattan, half a ½ mile from the towers. The events of that day and all I witnessed would be imprinted on my mind like an ever-playing movie scene. The day’s horrible events would give me a story to tell others. A few days after the events, I began writing in my spiral notebook everything I witnessed. I condensed my thoughts and observations to 17 pages. I wanted to do more than tell my story; I wanted others to read about it. On the 20th anniversary of the attacks, my story was published online. Free for all to read about what I was an eyewitness to on that horrific day.

In a New York Minute: An officer’s eyewitness account of the events of September 11, 2001 – The Juniper Park Civic Association

After retirement, it was time for me to tell my stories and get my work published. I began with one story about an intoxicated businessman who parked his vehicle on the roadway. I wrote it down as a short story and sent it to Psychology Today. What if the Police called all your contacts? What would they say about you? They published my story! I now knew I was more than just a storyteller; others were interested in what I experienced and what I was saying.

In 2023, it was time to take short stories and self-publish them. All in a day’s work: an officer’s accounts 20 Years NYPD. Soon after, I was a podcast guest in the USA, Australia, and England. I was now telling my stories to a broader audience, discussing my writing journey and the interesting cases I investigated.  

ALL IN A DAY’S WORK

When you are a New York City police officer you become a social worker, chauffeur, human relations consultant, and tour guide. You are expected to do all those tasks while stopping crime as it occurs, preventing crime, and keeping the peace in a city that never takes a break. Let’s not forget you get to do all this within a workday or tour as we call it.

These separate tasks come to you at random times, so going to work is like a roll of the dice. One moment, you are driving with your partner, talking about nonsense, and five minutes later, you are coming face to face with dangerous people who just committed a criminal act. The weight of these tasks can become overwhelming and mentally drain you if you allow it to happen. Many times, you do not have time to reflect on the day’s events. You just move on to the next crisis. Within days or a month, NYPD cops will get involved with and witness more toxic events than an average person will see in a lifetime. Active cops must navigate and work with their coworkers, supervisors, the public, and criminals. What people believe cops do daily regarding police work is often far from the truth.

You will find within my short stories what is occurring inside those moving police vehicles. What the city was like in the days after September 11, 2001. Take a close, in-depth look at the investigation within the NYPD detective squad room. Within the squad room, the pen can influence like a hammer, and a phone call can arrive like a hurricane. If you want the gritty, alarming, and sometimes comical truth behind police work, you have arrived at your destination.

buy link: https://a.co/d/gHVCzb7

I also began to network with authors regarding my law enforcement experience. I could advise other writers on how to place accurate and interesting police-related material into their stories. I could technically advise about the progression of the cases, how the reports are written, and even cop humor. Beyond storytelling and writing, giving back to the writing community is essential and will propel me in future endeavors.

I mainly write true crime because I lived it, which has always kept my interest.

John can be contacted at:

https://ferrisinvestigations.org/

John.Ferriso1970@gmail.com

www.linkedin.com/in/john-ferriso

Memories – Basic to What We Write

~ dzchurch ~ 4 Comments

I was jolted by the comments of one of my beta readers for my newest Wanee Mystery, “Of Waterworks and Sin,” who was adamant that no one remembers anything before they connect images with speech, around 3-4 years old. There is even a name for it: infantile amnesia. Well, one reason I was taken aback was that the book is a historical mystery and I’m pretty sure no one knew of infantile amnesia in 1877. They might have wondered why some toddlers remembered incidences and others didn’t, but there was no advanced research or name for it.

As Doc in Wanee would say, “The memories are fragmented and horrible to conjure, and often, he seemed unsure of them. But the trauma may well have cemented them into his being.”

Babies, especially toddlers, do have implicit memories, they may remember being rocked, a sound repeated each day at nap time, or a certain food. But, as with all things, individual differences, cultural factors, and even the type of experiences a child has can influence how well and what they remember. In short, not all children have infantile amnesia, just the majority.

Here’s the challenge. As writers, we are enjoined to write about what we know. And what we know can be challenged by readers with other experiences that counter ours. One of our greatest instruments in showing and not telling are our memories: the smell of damp milk cows on a dewy spring morning, the sound of chickens clucking softly under the front porch as the milk truck rattles up the lane to pick up the milk cans for processing. Kittens mewling in a haystack. The smell of diesel fuel lying heavy over shimmering tarmac on a hot summer day. The roar of a jet, the rustle of leaves in a cottonwood. The smell of timothy grass after the rain. The sight of hands reaching down to you. The sound of footsteps approaching you from the rear as you walk between street lights. Sights and sounds and feelings all rolled into one big, massive evocative heap.

And so back to childhood memory. I remember being in a crib on a summer day in the apartment we moved from when I was 18 months old. I’m happily slurping on my bottle when my older sister holds her shiny silver cap gun at me, steals my bottle, takes a glug, and hands it back to me. Because my crib is against a wall that has two doors into the same hallway, she circles around and holds me up repeatedly until my bottle is empty. Witnesses assured me that the incident occurred before I was one year old. I remember that same sister running away from the same apartment on her tricycle with her pajamas stuffed in my mother’s vanity case. All of which, being my experience, informs the memory of the toddler in my story.

Yet my beta reader throws “modern science” into the mix, what the child remembers can’t be. But it can, and I know it. If I can remember these mundane incidents as clearly as I do, then why wouldn’t a traumatized 14-month-old have ingrained memories? Sights, sounds, pain, hunger, fear, and a kind voice.

“Ah,” Doc raised his eyebrows, which, from his expression, hurt. “He doesn’t remember so much as feel what he related. His mother put him down to sleep. Strange noises woke him. He couldn’t say what they were, only that he awakened. His stomach aching, he cried. A man spoke to him, and he believes gave him something to sustain him as the pain faded.”

I’m sure others have memories stretching back into infancy that disprove a blanket statement that all children have infantile amnesia. Especially when trauma is a factor. The question is, do you redo your story because of one beta reader especially in view of very positive results from the others? Or do you make a few adjustments assuming that one reader represents others but otherwise stand by what you know to be true?

You can find out.

“Of Waterworks and Sin” will be published on April 15, it is available for pre-order now (https://www.amazon.com/Waterworks-Sin-Wanee-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0F151Z25Q/). Cora Countryman makes a promise to the owner/editor of The Courier that she intends to keep. Ignoring her dress shop and boarding house, she concentrates on publishing the daily paper. But when two skeletons are found in a trench meant for the new water main, she can’t resist investigating.

Discover all my books at: https://dzchurch.com

CREATIVE CHAOS

~ Kimila Kay ~ 3 Comments

I started off 2025 with a plan to manage my day in power blocks. I’ve done this in past years with success so why should this bright and shiny new year be any different?

Well, you know what they say, “Tell God you have a plan, and listen to him laugh.”

My world is spinning on an axis of chaos and no matter how hard I try; I can’t seem to reign in the crazy. No matter how hard I tried to create a plan and stick to it, nothing worked. I have a laundry list of reasons why the crazy seems one step ahead of me.

The holidays were daunting with lots of travel and Christmas packages being routed to Anchorage instead of Puyallup, Washington. And for the life of me I couldn’t seem to get my house back to its pre-holiday state. I mean my artificial Christmas tree was up until February 5th. March brought more travel and hernia surgery for my husband.

I did manage to squeeze in the Author Fair in Lebanon and have taken on hosting an Author Fair this coming April. Oh, and remember, my story about the Stoneybrook Assisted Living Center in last month’s blog? They called and they do want me to do an Author Talk. I also landed an Author Talk at a retirement center in Central Point.

And despite the craziness surrounding me, I managed to publish the latest novella in my Stoneybrook Mystery Series, “Rattlesnake Ravine,” which will be available April 1st. When I finish a book in one of my series, I like to add the first six chapters of the next book to the end to tease readers with what’s to come. It was a struggle, but I pounded out the beginning of my next Stoneybrook novel, “Fatal Falls.”

So, amid the chaos, new opportunities and accomplishments bring much needed joy.

The past few weeks as I slogged through my day job tasks, cleaned the house and made another trip to and from Central Point to see my sister, a nagging question kept popping up in my mind. Do my characters suffer enough crazy chaos?

Of course, my hero’s and heroine’s have suffered broken hearts and challenging relationships. There’s always a villain lying in wait to wreak havoc. And then there was the cougar in “Willow’s Woods.”

But do my main characters ever suffer from the chaos that comes from having your universe spin out of control. Or do I write them like those power blocks I mentioned earlier, compartmentalizing their stories?

Since I’m in the early chapters of “Fatal Falls,” I decided to see what might happen if Harley and Busy’s best friend relationship is tested. And how might Harley deal with Wyatt being overwhelmed with two crimes to solve that take all of his time. What if things beyond Harley’s control cause her to question the two most important relationships in her life?

Will she find herself awake from two am until four am, rehashing the curves and roadblocks life keeps placing in her path. Like me, will stress drive her to lose her appetite one day only to binge on chips, salsa and margaritas the next?

This last week I’ve been praying for “Peace, Patience, Understanding and Strength.” I know from past experience if I keep trying to stick to my plan, life will continue to test me.

I think the Big Guy above heard me, because for the first time in months, I had a successful power block day, which resulted in my being able to reach ten chapters and 10,930 words in “Fatal Falls.” I may have struggled the first three months of the year, and my plans may have gone awry. But one thing that keeps me sane amidst the crazy is writing. And if my personal plans continue to fall apart, I can always put pen to paper and plan some chaos for my characters.

Happy Writing, Ladies ~