Maine Crime Writers

Kate Flora: A perfect example of how dazed and dizzy I am is that yesterday, I wrote a whole post, pressed the button to have it post on the website, and it disappeared into the ether. That’s how things feel these days. Between the constant barrage of requests for money from everyone in the country, nerves about the election, and the disjointed effect of the time change, at least once a day I’m convinced that my brain has failed.

I’m not gardening, because it has been put to bed. I’m not writing because everything is rewrite on books I’ve rewritten so many times I can’t stand to look at them. Driving to Camden, Maine for an event was a lot of fun, but a whole day on the road leaves me exhausted for the next two days. I never imagined being tired, but the late seventies are a revelation.

Now, the calendar says that on Friday I’m doing a master class on voice in fiction at the New England Crime Bake. That should be fun if I can only organize my thoughts and remember how to do a power point. It also says I’m going to moderate a panel on Sunday. It says there’s a dentist appointment, a hair appointment, two more “maintenance’ appointments and then a quick trip back to Maine to preview the marvelous Gardens Aglow at the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden. When, exactly, are those quiet late fall days sitting at my desk writing?

My mother used to have a sign near her phone: Just Say No. I’d need one near my landline, one near my computer, and one permanently attached to my cell phone. Maybe I could just get a tee shirt. The problem is that those tee shirt mottos are mostly for other people to read. Disconnect? Unplug? Often, from the distance of three to six months or more, everything looks tempting. The problem is when events arrive and they’ve been carelessly crammed into single weeks.

Not that I don’t like to talk about books and writing. I do. I love it. It’s just the driving and toting the books along. And all the other things I can complain about. The real problem is that I’m not writing and I always feel restless, cranky, and at sea when I’m not deeply into a project. The signs from the universe suggest it’s time to dig into something.

What does that look like? Unlike those of my fellow writers who are plotters or pantsers, I’m a cooker. I don’t write out elaborate notes. Nor do I sit down and start writing and see where the story goes. I start working on the plot and wondering. Wandering around for a few months asking questions. Who was killed? Why were they killed? Who killed them? Who else wanted them dead, and why? What will I put at the crime scene that will help the investigation? And so forth. I often say that, like Paddington Bear, during this process I should wear a little tag that says ‘please look after this author. Thank you.’ And on the back, when I’m found staring blankly at the frozen peas, ‘If found, please return to…’ and my address.

These gorgeous last warm fall days are an invitation to get back outside, so I won’t be staring at those peas any time soon. A few more bulbs to plant. A few last perennials to swap. But when the cold and rain arrive, and the calendar calms down, I can imagine sitting here at the laptop and typing: Chapter One. And all that planning I’ve been doing while I’m driving and digging and sorting will begin to appear on the page.

Now, I have a question for you, readers of this blog. What do you like? Are we getting it right? What would you like to see? What should we be doing differently?

Kate Flora: No published writer I know is immune from those enticing emails. “Come be a speaker at our conference in Wales,” they say. “We want you to a featured guest at our book club.” “I’m organizing a festival and want you to be on a panel.”

Back in the day, before AI slop took over and spammers multiplied like mice, an email inviting an author to speak at a library, or to a book club, or at a conference or festival was real. It was nice to get those invitations. Fun to think someone, somewhere, has read the books and thinks you’re worthy. Have something to say. Would be a good addition to their event or a fascinating speaker at a book club. Now so much of it comes at us, often several times a day, that we actually worry that one day we’ll miss the real one, the one where someone really does want to talk about making the Burgess books into a TV series.

I used to joke that I could write the quotes for the back of my books from the rejection letters I got. These days, it’s all the flattering comments that these emails contain. Such as this:

Kate, Teach Her a Lesson has the emotional depth, relentless pacing, and thematic urgency to become a standout in the psychological thriller space. Your premise taps into fears that are painfully real, and that’s exactly what makes readers unable to put it down. With the right visibility strategy, this book can reach the audience that’s actively searching for exactly what you’ve written.

Teach Her a Lesson has exactly the kind of premise that stops readers mid-scroll; a false accusation, a manipulative student, and a woman fighting to save everything she’s built.

The “nowhere to turn” tension you’ve created, where the truth becomes weaponized and innocence feels like guilt, is precisely what today’s thriller audiences crave. Your exploration of power dynamics, obsession, and how easily a life can be dismantled resonates deeply with readers who love authors like Karin Slaughter, Lisa Jewell, and Chevy Stevens.

I’m lucky. My spam filter catches at least 90% of them. Occasionally one or two sneak through. Sometimes they’re so determined I’ll get a follow up. Did I get their email? Would I like more information? How about the ones that appear to come from editors at legitimate publishing houses. Real name. Real publisher. But the email comes not from the publisher’s address and the query is usually for an already published book. Dear spammer, I wasn’t born yesterday. But I worry about newer authors, authors who haven’t become as cynical as I am. When they get an email from a famous author like James Patterson who wants to be their friend and read their work and talk about writing, it might be a thrill.

What amazes me is how, after the first wave of this crap, anyone thinks it’s going to work. Once we’ve seen dozens of cookie cutter emails that parrot at length the plots of our books (hello? I wrote the book, remember?) before getting into the pitch, how can there be anyone left on the planet to fall for them? Sometimes those scammers are in such a hurry that they have my email but someone else’s name and book and off it goes. Definitely not going to fall for that one. Once I wrote to correct them. I won’t do that anymore.

Often, they don’t even try very hard. An invitation to participate in a book festival in Wales happening in two days? Seriously? I don’t think so. A publisher who wants to publish a book I published six years ago? The problem is that AI makes it so easy. No effort. No research. No developing any knowledge of the “target” author. Just scrape and send. Scrape and send.

Sigh. Sometimes they’re so tempting. For example, how do I know whether this one is genuine? I’d love to talk about A Good Man with a Dog, but alas…One clue is that the Vermont Book Club (book club not bookclub) has its own website and she would have been writing from that.

Elowen Sinclair
<elowensinclaircr.vmtbookclub@gmail.com> wrote:
> Hello Kate,
>
I recently came across A Good Man with a Dog, and what interested me most was how your collaboration with retired Maine game warden Roger Guay brings readers into a world of search and rescue, wilderness investigations, and the remarkable relationships between handlers and their working dogs. I was particularly drawn to how the book follows experiences ranging from tracking poachers in the Maine woods to searching for missing people and assisting with rescue and recovery efforts following major disasters.

It made me curious about what first inspired you to help preserve Roger’s experiences in a book, particularly how you approached transforming years of personal memories, complicated investigations, and emotionally demanding incidents into a narrative that readers could understand and connect with. There is often a story behind a book that readers never get to hear, what first sparked the idea, what the author was trying to understand, and how those thoughts developed throughout the writing process.

My name is Elowen, and I’m an Author Engagement Coordinator with Vermont Bookclub. We’re inviting authors to join us for The Ideas Behind the Book, a relaxed conversation centered on the ideas, experiences, questions, and perspectives that shaped their work.

The conversation gives authors space to talk about what inspired their book, the experiences that influenced their perspective, and what they ultimately hope readers will take away from it. We also leave room for our community members to ask questions and engage with the author directly.

I believe A Good Man with a Dog could make for a particularly meaningful conversation because it brings together human compassion, the demands of emergency service, trust between people and animals, and the responsibility of preserving experiences that might otherwise remain unknown. I’d love to explore the possibility of having you join us and sharing more about the research, conversations, and decisions that shaped this remarkable collaboration.

Would you be open to hearing a little more about how the conversation works?

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A quick note: If you’re near Camden this coming Friday night, a bunch of us from MCW are doing a Noir at the Bar.