Guest Blogger ~ Keith Yocum

~ patyjag ~ 3 Comments

This is how I came up with the mystery premise in “A Whisper Came,” book 1 in the Cape Cod Mystery series.

There is something about the ocean that lends itself to mystery. Whether it’s the isolation of deserted beaches or the strange sound of the wind whistling through tall sea grasses, the area lends itself to a sense of uncertainty and mystery.

I live in Chatham, Massachusetts, at the elbow of Cape Cod. It has the distinction of being surrounded on three sides by salt water: Nantucket Sound, Pleasant Bay, and the Atlantic Ocean. It was founded in 1664 and incorporated in 1712. For American towns, this is old.

Along with the passing centuries has come a litany of shipwrecks off Cape Cod—estimated at 3,500—and, of course, legends. Dotting the cape are 14 lighthouses, though many are not operational.

In 2019, I toured the decommissioned lighthouse on Monomoy Island off Chatham. I had driven my boat past the lighthouse many times over the years but never set foot on the island. The Monomoy lighthouse and keeper’s house are used by the US Wildlife Service to study migratory seabird and resident seal populations.

During the tour, I was surprised by the utter isolation of the lighthouse. It took us nearly a half-hour to walk across the deserted island to reach the lighthouse and keeper’s house. We were allowed to climb to the top of the lighthouse, but there was nothing to see but sand, scrub brush, and the ocean. It was beautiful but oddly intimidating because of its isolation.

During the visit, our Wildlife Service guide chuckled when he mentioned that some researchers at the keeper’s house felt the building was haunted.

For a mystery writer, there’s nothing more intriguing than a hint of spectral disturbances in this setting. After returning to the mainland, I researched the history of this area of Monomoy Island and found unsubstantiated rumors of murders that occurred near the lighthouse in the 1860s. Several legends about ghosts on the island also provided a perfect plot twist.

As a former journalist, I decided to write a modern story involving a young reporter named Stacie Davis sent to Chatham to cover the story of an unidentified woman’s body found floating off the island of Monomoy. The fact that the woman’s body wore clothing from another era added just the right amount of intrigue.

Stacie, the lead character in “Whisper,” is a young reporter at the low end of her newspaper’s totem pole. As a general-assignment reporter, she is given a variety of stories that test her mettle. She’s not happy to be sent on the 90-mile drive to Chatham from Boston, but she’s also keen to prove she can handle any story.

I work closely with my wife, Denise, when revising a manuscript. Perhaps it’s her training as a psychologist, but she was instrumental in bringing authenticity and toughness to Stacie’s character. We have worked together on ten novels, and I always take her advice on improving character development, plot pacing, and romance (of course).

The reception for “A Whisper Came” was much stronger than I anticipated. Our local bookstore here in Chatham sells quite a few paperbacks, and I’ve just finished “Dead In The Water,” book 2 in the Cape Cod Mystery series with intrepid reporter Stacie Davis.  

I can’t wait to see what trouble Stacie will get into in book 3. She’s one tough cookie.

A Whisper Came

Stacie, a young, ambitious reporter, is sent to Chatham on Cape Cod to follow up on the body of an unidentified woman found floating nearby. Over the centuries, Cape Cod has been the site of thousands of shipwrecks, leaving the sandy shore littered with debris, legends, and ghost stories. Stacie’s editors encourage her to dig into the mix of Chatham’s quirky residents and to write about the mysteries surrounding the old Monomoy Point Lighthouse. On a lark, she makes a nighttime visit to the lighthouse with a young charter boat captain and, in the process, stumbles tragically into a dark mystery that forces her to question her sanity and the truth buried in a legend. 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093TJR9QC

B/N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-whisper-came-keith-yocum/1139508965

Ibooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1570048192

Google iPlay: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=uvNWEAAAQBAJ&pli=1

Keith Yocum is a former journalist and business executive who has worked for publications including The Boston Globe and The New England Journal of Medicine. He lives on Cape Cod and is the author of ten novels. He welcomes feedback at http://www.keithyocum.com.

https://www.facebook.com/yocum.keith/

    Killing People

    ~ Pamela Beason ~ 3 Comments

    As a mystery author, I think about death much more than the average person. At least I hope I do. I’d hate to think that the family who lives next door to me is always thinking about murder or deadly accidents.

    As my books add up, so do the corpses. It’s actually quite disturbing, and sometimes it haunts me, especially as I’m getting older and some of my elderly friends and relatives kick the bucket. Now there’s a phrase that sounds innocuous but has a gruesome history. If you look up “kick the bucket,” you’ll find that the phrase originated with slaughtering pigs.

    As a former private investigator, I have a hard time writing the cute cozy mystery about someone dying and thus presenting a fascinating puzzle to solve. I sometimes wish I could, because I have read a lot of cozies that I’ve truly enjoyed. Unfortunately, in real life, I’ve investigated a few cases of wrongful death, and I’ve never seen a deceased person that everyone was happy to have dead. There’s always a grieving family or friends left behind, and often a snarled mess of assets and bills to sort out.

    I truly don’t like to kill off my characters, though, because I feel the need to make sure they are fully fleshed out individuals before I do them in (another innocuous-sounding phrase). The character I miss most is Alex Kazaki, a wonderful scuba-diving marine biologist, a husband and a father, with a great physique and playful sense of humor. In my novel Undercurrents, he died in the Galapagos Islands, and his death rippled outwards like a rock had been dropped overboard into the sea, affecting everyone he knew. His dive partner, my protagonist Sam Westin, was impacted by his sudden death, and she was even suspected of smoking him. (Note innocuous phrase number three.) I’m a scuba diver, too, so that hurt. Alex was a handsome, kind man; I still miss him.

    But before Alex, I killed off Lisa Glass, a worker on a trail crew in Olympic National Park. She died in my novel called Bear Bait, along with a female game warden. Truthfully, I never knew the game warden, but I’m sure she was great. But Lisa was an innocent, and that wasn’t even her real name. She was young and desperate and just associating with the wrong people, as desperate young people too often do.

    In my next novel, Backcountry, two of Sam’s close friends were murdered. How could I do that? Was I becoming inured to death by that fourth book in the series? I fear so, because in my fifth novel, Borderland, I killed another character I truly admired: Jade Silva, a Latina wildlife photographer. She was a gutsy gal who would do anything to save a wild animal. I’ll never forget her.

    And then in the sixth novel, Cascade, I bumped off (innocuous phrase number four) a whole slew of characters in an avalanche. It was an act of nature; not really my fault, and I really didn’t know any of them, at least not until Sam met the families of two teens that died.

    I’m apparently getting more dangerous with every book that I write. Several people have already died in the mystery I’m writing now, If Only. And I haven’t even counted up the dead characters from my Neema Mysteries or my Run for Your Life trilogy.

    When I think about the total body count I’ve left behind, it concerns me, especially because I don’t kill off the bad guys, but only good, decent people. I don’t think I meet the criteria for a serial killer, though, because a fair percentage of my fictional victims died in accidents, and they are, after all, fictional. For my own mental health, though, I should probably switch to writing sweet romances for a while.

    Picking Up Steam by Karen Shughart

    ~ kshughart47 ~ 3 Comments

    I recently received an email from someone who has read all the cozies I’ve written. She said that while she enjoyed each of the books in my Edmund DeCleryk series, she thought the most recent one, Murder at Freedom Hill, was the best; with each book my writing skills have evolved, with layers added to each story. I appreciated her candor, and she probably was correct. My writing has in many ways been like a train, metaphorically picking up steam, and adding railroad cars as necessary to accommodate a growing number of passengers seeking to get to their destination.

    With the first book in the Edmund DeCleryk cozy mystery series, Murder in the Museum, I wrote a prologue that introduced a historical backstory that provided clues to why the present-day murder occurred. As the mystery unfolded, the backstory, spanning the late 1700s to the mid-1800s, continued with artifacts found in the basement of the museum and discovery of a memoir written by a man who, in his youth, had made terrible mistakes but who redeemed himself in adulthood. It was a short story within the book.

    I continued with the historical backstory concept in my second book, Murder in the Cemetery, after deciding it would always be part of my cozies. But this time after the prologue, I conveyed it with the discovery of an artifact at the cemetery where the victim was killed, and a series of letters a lonely wife wrote to her sister while on a quest to find her husband, who had been transported to England as a prisoner of war during the War of 1812. Instead of one prologue I wrote two, the first introducing the backstory, and the second giving the reader the seasonal setting for the present day murder.

    In the third book, Murder at Freedom Hill, I continued with the two prologues and the backstory-a narration for an exhibit at the historical society about the victim’s ancestors, both Black and White-who were involved in the Underground Railroad and Abolitionist Movement. Then I added a subplot that was separate from, but intricately woven into, the main story.

    Now I’m working on book four, Murder at Chimney Bluffs. In this one, I continue with techniques I used before: the two prologues, the historical backstory -now rumrunning and the Prohibition era -but the backstory will also be the subplot. And I’ve added a second mystery, a cold case from decades ago that may lead the investigators to the killer.

    I’m happy with the progression of these books, it keeps me interested and stretches my brain, but I confess that the writing is taking me a bit longer with each one. Now I’m compiling more notes and have added a timeline and a list of characters, many of whom are recurring; some new. As I continue to write the series I, too, am picking up steam, which will, hopefully, make each book better than the one before.

    Karen Shughart is the author of the award-winning Edmund DeCleryk cozy mystery series, published by Cozy Cat Press. She has also co-written two additional mysteries with Cozy Cat authors, and two non-fiction books. A member of CWA, North America Chapter, and F.L.A.R.E., she lives with her husband, Lyle, on the south shore of Lake Ontario in New York state.

    A Long Take on Short Stories

    ~ Margaret Lucke ~ 7 Comments

    By Margaret Lucke

    This weekend I’m in the Seattle area attending Left Coast Crime, a wonderful convention of mystery writers and readers. One of the highlights for me came on Thursday night, when the Northern California chapter of Sisters in Crime celebrated the official launch of its new anthology, Invasive Species. I’m thrilled that the book includes a story of mine. Called “Open House,” this tale recounts what happens two unwelcome visitors arrive at a showing of a home for sale.

    So lately short stories have been on my mind, though not for the first time. I’ve always been fascinated by the power of stories and the joy of creating them. From the time I was very small, I thought of once upon a time as magic words with which to conjure a fascinating adventure. I started writing stories of my own when I was four.

    I teach fiction writing classes for the University of California-Berkeley’s Extension program. That gave rise to the opportunity to write a book for McGraw-Hill called Schaum’s Quick Guide to Writing Great Short Stories, which I’m told is a pretty good handbook for aspiring writers. I’ve edited story collections for a couple of authors, and a few years ago I had the privilege of being the editor for Sisters in Crime NorCal’s first anthology, Fault Lines.

    What does it take to write a good short story? Writing a successful one takes less time than writing a novel, but in many ways it can present an equal challenge.

    Not long ago, a local writers organization asked me to be the judge for their short story contest. A panel had narrowed the roster of entries to eight finalists, and my task was to choose which one would win first place.

    It turned out not be an easy task. Too many of the entries were not, in fact, short stories. They were character sketches, anecdotes, or descriptions of random events. Some had no clear protagonist. In others, the narrative wandered around too long before settling into a plot. Several lacked tension. Too often, the narrative didn’t build to a logical ending, but simply stopped.

    Since none of the stories stood out as the winner, I did a deep dive. After charting their strengths and weaknesses, I came up with a rating system, assigning scores to how well they handled characterization, plot, point of view, reader experience, language and style. When I totaled their points, the winner became clear.

    When it comes to writing a short story, it helps to pay attention to two key words: short and story. That seems obvious, right? But it turns out that both words may be a little more complicated than they seem.

    Let’s start with story, as this was something that several of the contest entrants didn’t seem to understand. In order to have a story, Something Happens to change a character’s life in some large or small way.

    Here’s a definition I’ve found helpful:  A story is an account of the journey that a person takes as they move from one point in their life to another.

    This might be a physical or geographical journey as the person moves from one spot on the map to another. The journey could cover a long distance, like a trip to a different city or a faraway planet, or a short one. Even getting out of bed in the morning can constitute a journey for some of us.

    Or it might be mental or emotional journey, as the person gains new knowledge, new ideas, or a new understanding of themselves or others.

    Early in the story, something happens that creates a challenge, a problem, or an opportunity for our person. So the person sets out on a path to meet the challenge, solve the problem or take advantage of the opportunity. Along the way, they encounter conflicts and obstacles that they must overcome if they are to succeed.

    By the end of the story the person and their circumstances are different in some large or small way. Because of their accomplishment, or their failure, or the insights they’ve gained, nothing will ever quite be the same.

    Change is the key—what is different for the person as a result of what happens? If there is no change there’s no story.

    The protagonist in my short story “Open House” is a woman who, in midlife, is starting a new career in real estate. She is holding her first open house and has high hopes of having a buyer by the end of the day. That plan is derailed with the arrival of the two unsavory characters who are up to no good, but the encounter teaches her some valuable lessons about her own capabilities.

    Then there’s short. Some sources define a short story as 10,000 words or fewer; others say 7,500. But it really depends on the market you’re aiming for. For Fault Lines we set a limit of 5,000 words, and I recently submitted a story to a different publication whose cap was 3,500.

    But short means more than word count. It’s also a matter of focus. Compared to novels, short stories focus tightly on one event or sequence of events. They have fewer characters, cover a shorter timespan, and take place in a limited number of locales. They have room to raise and answer only one or two questions, to deal with only one or two themes. While a novel allows you delve into a complex series of events, relationships, backstories, and subplots, a short story requires you to make your point quickly and move on.

    And while a novel might forgive you for meandering a bit, in a short story every single word has to pull its weight.  

    Yet a short story also grants you a certain amount of freedom. You have the opportunity to to explore and experiment with language and form in ways that would be hard to sustain in a novel.

    So go ahead and write your story in second person, tell it from the point of view of a giraffe in a zoo, and end it with an explosive twist. Have fun, and enjoy the challenge and creative reward that writing a short story provides.

    Musing on the Moon and a Miracle

    ~ janispattersonmysteries ~ 3 Comments

    by Janis Patterson

    Today is Thursday. On Monday I experienced a miracle. A true miracle. I am fortunate enough to live in the path of totality of the Solar Eclipse. For several days thick clouds had been forecast (putting my husband into a fearsome temper – he had actually bought a special solar telescope for the event) and on Monday morning the sky was indeed thickly clouded. We had been invited to some friends’ house with an upper deck perfect for viewing; The Husband didn’t even want to go, saying it was a lost cause, but I insisted, so we did.


    The whole group – about 10 people – was worried about the eclipse being invisible, but we went on and took our lunch up to the deck and had a lovely meal and good companionship and – Mirabile Dictu! – just about the time the event was supposed to start holes began to appear in the clouds. To make a long story short, we saw most of the eclipse. We did lose a little of the first part of it, but by about one-quarter of the first half there were only a few thin rags of clouds that really didn’t obscure the view. Seeing the dark circle that was the moon inexorably sliding across the face of the sun, nibbling away at the light, was incredible. Sometimes being seen through the thin scraps of cloud it was even more impressive.


    The totality was perfectly visible – and perfectly magnificent. While it is both dangerous and extremely stupid to look at an eclipse without proper protective lenses (you can damage or lose your sight permanently), during the totality you can take a short – SHORT, like a couple of seconds – look because the visible corona is the gas, not the sun itself. Seeing that great dark circle, like a hole in the sky, surrounded by a sparkling halo of white is a sight like none other.
    During the totality it is pure magic. The world darkens to a late evening hue, but it is not the same – there is a different quality to the light, an almost aqueous thickening unlike any moment in a regular day. One instantly thinks of fairyland or hidden realms – at least I did. The temperature drops perceptibly and there is a silence almost as if time itself has been suspended.


    During the 2017 eclipse in Missouri we were set up in the parking lot of our hotel and there was a dog park for the guests. There were about a dozen dogs in residence and during the totality they went mad, barking and jumping and howling and almost knocking over the fence. I had always thought such a reaction was an old wives’ tale, but no – it happened. Perhaps the ‘old wives’ know a lot more than we give them credit for. There were no dogs where we were on Monday, so no chance of hearing any barking, but I did notice that there were no birds flying during the totality. Neither was there any wind, at least where we were, as if the entire world were caught in a gelatinous stasis.
    The totality did not last long and the moon began a stately progression away from the face of the sun, inch by inch retreating and bringing back the light. Eclipse glasses went back on, movement resumed and the light became normal again.


    I can see why primitive peoples went in such terror of eclipses. Even in our scientific era, when we know exactly why and how they happen and can predict its happening almost to the exact minute it is a wondrous and somewhat unnerving experience.


    So what does all this have to do with writing? To be honest, not much. Oh, we can draw neat little moral aphorisms such as ‘expect a miracle’ or ‘never give up’ and they would be true, but really I just wanted to share the magic I felt. We can always use a little bit of magic, can’t we?