Personally, I’m not a big fan of research, and after 10 years of university I’d hoped my research days were behind me. Not so! But at least when I’m writing fiction, I can choose topics that interest me. Firefighters, for example. I decided that the hero of HOT IN HERE (the 2nd book in my Awesome Foursome series, which is a kind of “Sex And The City” series set in Vancouver, BC), would be a firefighter. Now there, let me tell you, was one tough research assignment! Drinking tea in a Vancouver fire hall kitchen with a group of hot firefighters; visiting a firefighter training centre in Reno; having a couple of Queensland firefighters dress me up in full turnout regalia, then catch me when I promptly toppled over! Not all research is that much fun, unfortunately. Sometimes it’s a matter of a quick or lengthy internet search or reading a stack of library books. That’s great for getting the factual info. I’ll usually start there. Then, if possible, I’ll set up an interview or two. Hearing people’s experiences and insights adds so much flesh to those factual bones. Personal experience is the best thing, of course – it gives…

I was in a black mood. I was planning to pack for the June tour for my seventh Dead-End Job mystery, “Clubbed to Death.” I had a wardrobe like a new widow: Black jackets. Black blouses. Black pants. Black is the traditional color for author appearances. It’s supposed to make you look serious. Sophisticated. Maybe even slimmer. Plus, black doesn’t show the minor smudges travel adds to the pale colors. Black should be perfect for a touring author. But not when you’ve been shaken like a martini at 30,000 feet, for three days in a row. Put yourself in my (black) shoes: You are flying to your fourth tour city in four days. Now it’s 4:30 a.m., and your media escort will be outside your hotel at five o’clock to drive you to “Good Morning, Festus,” a major TV talk show. You flip on the bathroom light, pry open your eyes, and the bags under your eyes are a perfect match for your black outfit. Someone has stolen your face and replaced it with your Aunt Marie’s – the one who talked about her operations at dinner. There isn’t enough concealer in Texas to help you. It’s time to abandon…

One of the first questions I’m often asked when I speak about my writing is why I chose to write mysteries instead of romances (I assume this is because I have such an innocent, baby face). My answer is simple: after twenty-two years in public education there are a lot of people I want to kill, there are very few I want to have sex with. Seriously, although I enjoy writing mysteries because I like knowing that the bad guy is going to get caught and pay for his crime at the end, I would like to write in other genres such as romance and fantasy. On the other hand, I love the sense of justice a well-written mystery brings to its readers. One thing I’ve learned from being a school psychologist for so long is that justice rarely happens in real life, so it gives me a sense of fulfillment to have it happen in my fiction. Having worked in almost every type of school setting, from the poorest areas surrounding Washington DC to upscale suburban Chicago, and from rural to urban, I’ve heard so many stories and seen so many bizarre situations I’ll never run out of plots….

I’m not sure how I feel about that word. Just saying it conjures feelings of expectancy and excitement, but it can also lead to anxiety and good ol’ fashion worry. My life is filled with anticipation. Whether it’s wondering what will happen next on my favorite TV shows (Seriously, aren’t we all wondering if McSteamy will end up with Nurse Rose or go back to Meredith Grey?), or waiting with bated breath for my niece to be born (FYI: She was born on April 30th after a twelve day delay, and she is the most precious child to ever grace this planet), anticipation has become a constant life companion. My writing journey has been filled with anticipation. Finishing the book, finding an agent, landing my first contract, finally seeing my debut novel, Deliver Me, on the shelves, et cetera. I though the edgy, bumble bees fluttering around in my stomach feeling would ease up after the first book, but no such luck. As I anticipate the release of my next novel, Release Me, those bumble bees are having a field day and that excited, ready-to-jump-up-and-cheer-one-minute-and-lose-my-lunch-the-next feeling is keeping me up at night. The anticipation of receiving reviews, wondering if fans…

During a recent newspaper interview, the reporter made an observation that completely surprised me: “Your romance books are about finding men while your women’s fiction novels are about getting away from them.” Huh? I started to write women’s fiction because I had stories to tell that didn’t fit the romance mold, but I’d never thought about it in that light. Romance novels portray a beautiful fantasy—the forever joining of two souls meant to be together. Since I’m a divorcée it’s pretty obvious that fantasy didn’t work out for me. (And given my bad date stories it might never. Tip for men—during that first-impression conversation, leave out mentioning throwing up your dinner, ripping your underwear with too-long toenails or seeing your 85-year-old father’s naked buttocks.) That said, I don’t consider my women’s fiction to be a celebration of ditching men, but a celebration of women taking charge of their lives, of stepping off the martyr train and striking out for a destination of their choosing. I could have written about women quitting bad jobs or leaving dull towns but relationships are more important to women and involve more of their identities, thereby giving me the chance to tell a deeper story….

Hi. My name is Linda and I’m a fiction addict. I live fiction, I breathe fiction, I make up really creative excuses when I forget to turn in my PTA sign-up sheets. Honestly, I can’t go through the day without a fiction fix. Today, for example, I went to the bookstore to grab Stephenie Meyer’s latest. Just walking into the fiction section was like entering an enchanted canyon where everyplace I turned, something wonderful called out to me. Sadly, THE HOST was not on the shelves. The bookstore had just sold their last copy. I panicked. Leaving the bookstore without a book was not an option. Heart palpitating, I ran back to the fiction section and scanned the shelves frantically until found the next two books on my TBR list. Holding them in my hands, I was finally able to breathe easier. Once, on vacation, I finished all the books I had brought with me. And I a whole day left at the beach and an entire flight home to get through! I made my dear husband drive into town – thirty miles away – and find a drugstore with a decent fiction selection(it was too small to have its…

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet”. Ummm… okay, Shakespeare. That’s why Juliet fell in love with Romeo and not some guy named Fred. Yeah, somehow, I’m not buying the names are meaningless sales spiel. Why? Because names aren’t meaningless. They’re important. That’s why most parents spend the entire nine months trying to decide on one (I, on the other hand, was named after the toilet paper and one of my brothers was named after a box of tissues). They set expectations, invoking feelings and passions. For the rest of your life. I know this first hand. Who do you picture when you hear the name Kimber Chin (or, if you prefer, the Dr. Seuss version Kim Chin)? Perhaps Lucy Liu from Charles Angels and Kill Bill? Or Ziyi Zhang from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? Or… I’ll stop naming gorgeous Asian actresses now before I get depressed. You see, that’s SO not me. Even the top Photoshop expert in the world (i.e. my hubby or so he thinks) can’t make me look like Lucy Liu. I had to marry to get that last name. My background is Irish, my two…

When the man sitting in the front row raised his hand, I was curious about what he would ask. There weren’t many men in the audience, mostly women who’d come into the bookstore to hear four local romance authors discuss their craft. And this fellow had arrived early. He’d parked himself belligerently in the front row, right in the middle, as if daring us to ignore him. And he’d been eyeing us ever since — rubbing his jaw, biding his time — like a predator waiting to strike. And strike he did. Why did women read romance novels, he demanded. Was it because we were frustrated? Were we trying to escape reality? Was there something wrong with our (sex) lives? I thought we did an admirable job of answering him. No one got excited. No one lost her temper. We took his questions seriously, answered rationally, compared reading novels to other forms of entertainment, including sports. We talked about fiction in general, romance novels in particular, told him why love stories touch our lives. Was he convinced? Doubtful, although he stayed until the end and bought a book. Who knows if he actually read it, though. Maybe he did —…

Thanks so much for having me as a guest at Fresh Fiction. I’m thrilled to be here! For me, knowing where a character hails from is an essential part of figuring out what makes them tick. This background—the place and time—is especially vital for the vampire characters in my new novel, WICKED GAME (Pocket Books, May 13). My vamps are psychologically and culturally stuck in the era in which they were ‘turned,’ making them walking, stalking time capsules (and perfect for their jobs as disc jockeys at WVMP, The Lifeblood of Rock ‘n’ Roll). WICKED GAME’s hero Shane McAllister, for example, was born in Youngstown, Ohio, in 1968. He was just a boy when the steel mills closed, collapsing the city’s economy. Shane’s own family fell into poverty and despair. Growing up poor made him tough and pessimistic, but it also gave him a core of compassion and understanding. The oldest vampire DJ, blues musician Monroe Jefferson, hails from Natchez, Mississippi. He grew up in a place and time governed by Jim Crow laws, which institutionalized racial segregation. Even now, he’s extremely cautious around the heroine of WICKED GAME, since in Monroe’s day in the Deep South, a black man…

“My newest book, KILL-TV, is one of my “what if,” stream-of-consciousness moments parlayed into a plot. As a mere lass in my twenties I spent several years working in the radio and television industry where lessons abounded daily, minute-by-minute deadlines were de rigueur, and my video-to-script writing cost me all use and feeling in my verbs.Back in the day,” when I discovered the magic wrought by shoulder pads and their seemingly mysterious ability to make my waist appear smaller than it actually was, I came up with another mysterious point to ponder: What if I wrote a comical and suspenseful story that was based upon a combination of irritating characters I’d worked with in broadcasting and, lest there be any residual hostility on my part necessitating expensive counseling, I just plain killed ‘em off?” You know…cheap therapy. This began my year-long journey into the development of my most ambitious novel to date, KILL-TV, just by virtue of continuity, scene changes, and plotting gyrations. While some kind folks, to whom I am not related, have commented that I am mildly amusing, humor does tend to always find its way into anything I write. Having said that, maintaining a humorous tone, snappy…