When I’m writing a mystery novel, which seems like all the time now, things that I read about or see on TV often spark ideas. Sometimes I feel compelled to add whatever it is to the book I’m writing. I don’t question this, I go with it. I always figure it’s my writer brain working in the background (like one of those apps on your phone compiling data even when you’re not using the phone). The interesting thing is sometimes later discarded, but more often becomes part of the book and adds to plot.

Some feedback that’s surprised me since the publication a year ago of my latest Bernadette “Bernie” O’Dea mystery novel, Dying For News, concerns one of these things. While I was writing the book, I read an article about ice swimming — the practice of swimming during the winter in freezing water without a wetsuit or any protection. It’s not something I’d ever do, but as I was reading the article it occured to me it’s something Pete, the secondardy protagonist in my books, would do. I plunged into research on ice swimming, because as much as fiction is fiction, I like it to be as accurate as possible.

As with much of the inspiration that comes my way through reading or watching TV, Pete’s ice swimming ended up becoming part of the plot, not just some detail that pops up. It has to, right? Otherwise, it’s like tinsel on the Christmas tree — an annoying distraction that shows up in the cat’s vomit or stuck to the bottom of your sock, but doesn’t do much else.

Another important writing rule — at least one of mine — is to not over-explain or go into super-wonky detail about extras that end up in my book. Action and dialogue should explain how it works. Pete reassured Bernie about the ice swimming — how he wouldn’t freeze to death or have a heart attack — but she still fretted about it. Through their interactions and her anxiety, I figured I’d explained how it worked pretty well and addressed potential reader questions about whether it’s really a thing and if people who do it freeze to death or have a heart attack (most don’t, but some do).

So, imagine my surprise when I began getting pushback from readers about the ice swimming. Much more than anything else in the book. One email expressed disappointment that I’d have something so outrageous in one of my books. Usually, though, it’s gentle probing at author events from people trying to be polite. “Wouldn’t Pete get hypothermia?” people ask, brows furrowed with concern.

I’m always grateful that people read my books and care enough to ask me questions. So, I, too, try to be polite. I explain that ice swimming is a real thing. People do it. I add that the negatives and positives are discussed in the book. After the question kept coming up, though, my writer brain began to question itself. Did I not explain it enough? In walking that line between too much exposition and making sure readers would understand, did I fall off the side of not enough information?

The reason this is coming up now for you, dear reader, is that it came up for me again at a book group I spoke to last week. A very nice group of women who’d obviously discussed the ice swimming issue previously. When I said that yes, it’s a thing, one of the women said triumphantly to the others, “See! I told you!”

After a year of hearing about it from readers, that whole book group scene didn’t throw me off at all. It may have a year ago, but I’ve had plenty of time to acclimate to it. I’ve reread the book several times [something I do when I’m writing the next one to keep the vibe consistent], and am satisfied that I walked the line as well as I could. I’m glad it’s in the book and I’m happy with the way it’s written.

Still, it’s remarkable to me in a book that has so many things going on — some of them that could raise big conversational points — the ice swimming is such an issue. It’s funny — in a ha ha way — that mystery readers will take all sorts of carnage for granted, but they won’t buy that an athletic man struggling with his mental health who’s desperately trying to find a way to feel better would resort to an extreme physical solution.

I’ve had plenty of time to form a theory about it. I believe that readers would not cut a hole in the ice and swim in the lake in the middle of a Maine winter, so the idea of someone else doing it and not dying just doesn’t compute. Of course, they also wouldn’t murder someone, or engage in the other criminal activity in mystery novels, either. At least most of them wouldn’t. The difference is that they expect those things in a mystery novel, so they’re not a problem.

When I first included the ice swimming in the book, part of me wondered if readers would think it was just some bizarre thing I made up. I liked it, though. I wanted it. I figured I’d do the best I could to make it real for them. Writing is fun largely because we’re free to take the stuff in our heads and form it into something that actually interests other people enough that they’ll take time to read it. The bottom line is,  though it’s not fun, or even worthwhile, if the stuff in my head has to be made so generic or sanitized that everyone who reads the book is comfortable with every element.

In the end, as I frequently tell readers, fiction is fiction. Does it matter if ice swimming is real? It is, but that’s not even the point. If you’re reading a book, take the plunge, no matter how icy, and enjoy the experience.