The author question I never get – it surprises me, yet doesn’t

Posted on February 20, 2026 by Maureen Milliken

Authors can expect certain questions at events, whether it’s a table at an author fair or a library presentation or a book group: Where do you get your ideas? How long does it take you to write a book? Do you read/like/know Paul Doiron? Can we talk about Paul Doiron instead of you? No problem! Everyone loves Paul!

But there’s one question that in more than 10 years of author events I’ve only gotten half a dozen times, and most of those have been in the past year. It’s one that, at first, I expected to hear much more often, but then got used to the fact it wasn’t going to come up.

In 2010, the same week that I completed my first mystery novel, Cold Hard News, [or thought I had], I was diagnosed with ADHD [attention deficit hyperactivity disorder]. It was a relief. It explained a lot about the previous 49 years. I also realized that it explained a lot about the protagonist — why she behaved the way she did. Behavior that to me seemed normal, but I knew wasn’t to a lot of the rest of the world, even before my diagnosis. Despite advice from some who thought it was not a good idea [more on that in a minute], I revised the manuscript to give my protagonist Bernadette “Bernie” O’Dea ADHD.

I didn’t want to hit readers over the head with it, but the revision accomplished a few things. It explained some of Bernie’s behavior. It was also a good forum to educate people about a misunderstood disorder. Also, the next time an agent asked my what my hook was, I’d have one instead of sitting there in slack-jawed beffudlement for several very very long seconds as she looked at me with growing disgust. Not that that ever happened! One thing about ADHD that people may not know, is that when you get hit with a question that’s not part of the script in your head, it can cause mental paralysis. This is often taken by the person asking the question as recalcitrance or idiocy, but it’s just the brain trying to get on a different track.

In any case, I worked hard to get Bernie’s diagnosis into the narrative without preaching or turning the book into a boring public service announcement. After all, it’s not a book about ADHD, it’s a mystery novel with a main character who has it. I also didn’t want it to seem like a gratuitous “here’s the protagonist’s required flaw!” element.

I prepared myself to talk about it with agents, publishers and readers. It’s not something, actually, that I wanted to out myself on. As much as I like to talk [ADHD!], that’s not something I really wanted to talk about. Even now, nearly 16 years after diagnosis, I still had second thoughts about making it a topic in this blog.

As far as the book went, I shouldn’t have worried. No one asked about it or mentioned it. At all.

Cold Hard News was published in 2015, and about a year after that, someone at a book group asked me why I gave Bernie ADHD and how I did the research. It was the first time anyone brought it up. My response was that she has it because it helps with character development, as far as some of the pickles Bernie gets into. And research? “I have it myself.” That was met with an uncomfortable silence. I started to elaborate a little on research and rewriting the character, but I’d lost the room. Someone quickly asked me another question — probably if I knew when the next Paul Doiron book was coming out. That’s a joke. I can’t really blame ADHD for my sense of humor. Or maybe I can. In any case, someone asked a question far, far from the topic of ADHD.

It was years before it came up again. It’s funny, because people are excited about talking about PTSD, which secondary protagonist Pete has. The fire chief, a military veteran, also has it, but it’s much less a part of the story. I did extensive research on first responders with PTSD, since I wanted to be authentic and not gratuitous. Readers love to talk about it. But ADHD? No thank you!

The reaction I sometimes get when I say I have it is similar to the reaction, if I had to guess, that you’d get if you confessed to being busted for shoplifting or got caught picking your nose. People seem embarrassed for me. They murmur some polite response and change the subject. While this has changed a little over the years, I think that it makes people uncomfortable because they know little about it. What they do know isn’t something they really want to know and it’s usually not accurate. There’s a lot of skepticism about ADHD, particularly when the person who has it is an adult.

Way back when I decided to make it the hook in my books, those well-meaning people who advised against it probably felt it would be gimmicky or drag the book down because of misguided beliefs about it.

It’s funny how people are often very happy to criticize and express their frustration about Bernie, but don’t acknowledge that some of the behavior that they don’t like is explained by ADHD. Not excused, mind you. But explained. For instance, most poeple recognized an impulse for what it is. If you have ADHD, however, you may ask yourself [like Bernie sometimes does] “Is this impulsive?” You think about it. You decide it’s not. You do it. The next day, or even sooner, you’re asking yourself “What the f*** was I thinking?” [For full translation of “f***” you’ll have ot read the books.]

By the way, she is NOT me. This is also something readers are happy to argue with me about, but I think I know myself better than someone I just met at an author event who’s read my book and never talked to me in my life. Just saying.

But back to Bernie. I tell people that yes, she can be frustrating, but if she were a perfect person the books would be pretty boring. It’s a little frustrating to me — something I don’t say at author events, but just between you and me, friend — that some readers ignore all the writing that makes her behavior an explainable part of the narrative. I try hard to write so that things make sense, to give actions and behavior of all the characters some context, but there’s a point when you can’t hit people over the head with things, or the book is just going to suck.

I’ve never regretted adding the ADHD angle to my books. Not because it’s a gimmick that sells book. It’s not. — no one is hailing me as the great ADHD author, that I know of. I’m happy with it because it fills out the character and is a springboard for behavior that can help drive the plot. Also, for readers who are paying attention, it may help them understand ADHD, and even help them relate to some of the diagnosed and undiagnosed people in their lives better.

Recently, I’m getting asked about it more.

Last summer, during a library presentation, a “retired physician” man told me I’d gotten it all wrong. Not only her behvior, but kids grow out of it. Excuse me? I’m used to deflecting mansplaining of my books, and I didn’t really want to go off track from what was a structured presentation about writing craft, but this was a little too much. As politly as I could [seriously!] I told him that knowledge about ADHD was constantly evolving and it’s been quite a while since they thought kids “grew out of it” and adults couldn’t have it. What I didn’t say was that if he’d read the book semi-closely, he would’ve learned that by the time you’re an adult with ADHD, you’ve learned strategies more or less to manage. Also, people are individuals. There’s no one-size-fits-all way to have ADHD or any other disorder. I gently [honest!] made it clear that since I was an adult living with ADHD, I could vouch for my character’s behavior as being authentic. I will say that the audience, made up of mostly women, seemed to be on my side. He got the benefit of me addressing him as “Doctor” every time he asked a question after that. Which was many. Maybe he just liked being called Doctor.

I was also asked about it at two other events in the past year. At those, the person who wasked, and others as well, were were excited about engaging in conversation about it. At least one of the questioners had ADHD. She said she found the book authentic and was glad someone was advocating for it.

One of my biggest goals as a writer is to entertain. I also want to say something, not only about ADHD, but about the world in general. I want readers to ask about the things I’m saying in my books and share what their takeaways are. I’m happy to talk about any aspect of my books. Hopefully, as we continue to be more open about discussing mental health, readers will be more eager to discuss ADHD.

Posted in Maureen's Posts | Tagged , , | 18 Comments

They’re Still At It

Posted on February 19, 2026 by kaitlynkathy

Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson here. Last fall I posted about an online scam trying to trick me into taking advantage of a wonderful promotional opportunity for one of my books. Since then such offers have proliferated. I get at least three or four similar emails a day at each of my email addresses, although they are indiscriminate about which name is listed as the author of the book in question. It isn’t just me receiving these solicitations, either. Every writer I know has been spammed relentlessly.

These AI generated come-ons are pretty easy to spot. They come from unfamiliar or weird names and claim to represent a book club, or thousands of avid readers willing to review the book, or some other large writer-friendly-sounding group. They praise the title they’ve chosen to target so lavishly that some recipients have been seriously tempted to pull out a quote to use in cover copy. They seem to know something about the characters in the book they mention but, tellingly, are ignorant of other, easily found information about the targeted author. They are unaware, for example, that the title they want me to let them promote is one of more than seventy books by me that are currently available for readers to buy.

That said, I almost fell for one recent email I found in my spam folder. This one was a little different from the norm and there is even a minuscule chance that it might still turn out to be legitimate. Several clues in the text, however, make me 99.9% certain this is just another scam.

Clue one: The email claims to be from the editorial director (using her real name) of a real publishing house, but the sender used a gmail.com return address. As it happens, I had a three-books series published by this company. All my correspondence with them, most recently concerning the return of my rights to those books after the term of the contract expired, went to .com email addresses in which the .com was the name of the publishing house.

Clue two: The sender claims to be reading a title I wrote as Kathy and addressed me as Kathy but sent the email to Kaitlyn’s email addy

Clue three: the details this person included by way of introducing herself came right out of the real editor’s bio at the publishing house’s website but were not something a real editor would be likely to include in a business letter. In fact, it would be very odd for an editor to approach a writer in this way at all.

Clue four: She signed herself “Warmly” with her first name and no signature line. Again, editors do not typically contact writers this way.

Clue five: She claims to have been reading one of my books and after telling me what she “absolutely loved” about it, she writes that she’d “genuinely love to connect and hear what you’re working on next.” Again, not a professional approach. But wait—there’s more. The book she claims to be reading is one of the three her company published. It came out in 2016 and rights reverted in 2025. Not only that, but shortly after the real editorial director took the job at this publisher in 2024, she expressed an interest through my agent in seeing of another book in that series from me. That is the way editors solicit submissions, although it is pretty rare for them to solicit them at all. I had my agent tell her I wasn’t interested in writing a fourth book in the series. Less than two years later, surely the real editorial director would remember that exchange.

Yes, indeed, AI scammers are still at it, and they are getting more creative all the time.

Here’s a question for those readers who have received similar emails: what is your most frequent reaction? Do you laugh it off. Feel annoyed? Angry? Or do you end up kicking yourself for almost falling for it?

If you want to read my earlier post, you can follow this link:

https://mainecrimewriters.com/2025/09/16/how-to-spot-a-scam-writers-edition/

 

Kathy Lynn Emerson/Kaitlyn Dunnett has had sixty-four books traditionally published and has self published others. She won the Agatha Award and was an Anthony and Macavity finalist for best mystery nonfiction of 2008 for How to Write Killer Historical Mysteries and was an Agatha Award finalist in 2015 in the best mystery short story category. In 2023 she won the Lea Wait Award for “excellence and achievement” from the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance. She was the Malice Domestic Guest of Honor in 2014. She is currently working on creating new editions of her backlist titles. Her website is www.KathyLynnEmerson.com.

 

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Speed and Accuracy

Posted on February 18, 2026 by kaitcarson

A Wednesday Writing Tip

It’s taken me three years to write my latest novel, and it’s not quite done. Oh, I finished it a year ago, but then a publisher requested edits, so…. Yep, working on it. I expected to be done by the end of last month, but life got in the way, and I’ve rescheduled the edits to the end of February. That’s fine though, because I’ve discovered a writing tip to prevent future occurrences of the never-ending novel.

This tip is very basic. I’m expanding on it next month in my blog, but for now. Drum roll: outline.

I’ve always been a pantser, a/k/a discovery writer, mostly because I find it hard to write to a detailed outline. My hat is off to writing friends who write forty-and fifty-page outlines and maintain an interest in their stories. I’m an adrenaline junkie, and when I know my story in that much detail before I write it, well, I get bored. When that happens, I either set the story aside, or create story problems that have me looking for ways out of the corners I’ve written myself into. Neither solution works.

What’s a writer to do? Outline. I’m lucky in that I usually know who is dead, who killed them, and how they get caught. My novels typically run thirty-five to forty chapters, and I write in a program called Scrivener. Once I have my start and finish, I write a line or two describing what needs to happen in each chapter. By avoiding the how and sticking to the what, I’m giving myself free creative rein while following a basic structure. Oh, there’re plenty of rabbit holes to keep me interested and in trouble, but the words are flowing and the story is moving ahead. If the momentum holds, I’ll have a completed draft in the next six months. Champagne and fireworks will occur.

Is your story taking too long to write? Give what happens outlining a try, it might just work for you, too.

 

Posted in Kait's posts, Uncategorized, Writing Tip Wednesday | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Jailhouse Promises

Posted on February 17, 2026 by John Clark

 

John Clark with the beginning of the first story I ever sold, In Your Dreams. That was more than twenty years ago.

“I nod to Ray as I assume the position. My hands are out at my sides, legs slightly spread while his partner runs the wand up one leg, past my crotch, then down the other. We all know it’s a waste of time, but I‘m cool with it. Neither of them want to lose their jobs because they let up right when one of the hardasses upstairs makes an unannounced walk through.

As I wait for the door to open, I wonder who’ll get stuck chairing the meeting tonight. Most of the time it’s one of us old timers because the guys on the inside are still so raw and squirrely they’d waste fifty minutes just mind farting before getting around to business. Good thing AA teaches patience and tolerance, because there’s a hell of a lot of meetings I’d rather attend on a Friday night than the one in the library at Dellone State Prison. Still, I like to remember when life was ugly as hell and everything seemed ready to leap out and gnaw on my soul.”

Fast forward to just before COVID hit. I signed up for and went through training to run AA meetings at the Somerset County Jail.

Before I was able to do so, the pandemic sent the jail, like a lot of other entities, into lockdown. When things started getting back to normal, I took the refresher training and started running one meeting a month as part of a small group of volunteers so we could ensure continuity and offer the male inmates one meeting a week.

For the first year or so, things were hit or miss. Sometimes the jail was short staffed, sometimes in lockdown, at times they forgot to have a list ans I’d sit for half an hour before signing out and coming home.

Regardless of the circumstances, we kept going, eventually switching from Wednesday nights to Mondays when there was nothing to compete with our offering. Things got better, and inmates who were there for any length of time started looking forward to coming and actively participating.

Like I noted at the beginning, the process is similar to what I described. I leave everything except my car keys in my vehicle, enter the building, and sign the log. After using the phone to let the control desk know who I am and why I’m there, I go through the screener and wait until the first sallyport ( an electronically operated metal door, one of two or more allowing access to the inner part of the jail-only one sallyport can be open at a time) buzzes and I can open it. I repeat the process a second time and then a metal slot rolls open, where I retrieve a two way radio, our packet of AA materials, and a roster of those inmates who have signed up for the meeting.

Depending upon the size of the group, we meet in a classroom, or the chapel. The classroom is smaller, but has far better acoustics. I generally start by saying “My name is John and I am an alcoholic.” I then share pertinent parts of my life that I hope they can relate to; coming to in a jail cell, driving a car into a lake, hitting a tree while riding a motorcycle, and some of the other moments that would cause anyone not on the road to alcoholism, to pause and think, That’s pretty insane behavior, maybe I ought to stop doing this.

At that point, I’m reading the room, seeing who’s relating, who looks like they’re still not ready, and open it up for anyone else to share. I tell them there are no stupid questions other than the one you are afraid to ask.

Generally those who attend are under forty, Blacks and Hispanics in greater numbers than the general population of the state (not a judgment, simply an observation), and tattoos in abundance. Every so often, I see someone I know from when we lived in Hartland.

If I ever had any doubt that alcohol and drugs are an invitation to a downward spiral, listening to these men as they share, takes care of that. While most of them have done things far worse than I have, the feelings of self-loathing, hopelessness, and despair are ones I can relate to. They always take me back to before I got sober.

How effective are these meetings? It’s like when I worked at the Augusta Mental Health Institute…We seldom saw our successes because they went on to live a good life.

In any event, I generally leave the jail feeling good about the experience. I also keep my eye open for AA books and related recovery ones when visiting a thrift store and pass them on when I’m running a meeting. One other thing I do at the end of every meeting is share the promises from the big book of AA because they offer hope. I’ve copied them below.

“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us — sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.”

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That New Car Smell

Posted on February 16, 2026 by Robert T. Kelley

Rob Kelley here, not actually defending the new car smell, which I always figured was toxic off-gassing from the plastic in the car’s upholstery concentrating in the vehicle.

Instead, I’m reveling in what is my new favorite part of writing a book: the beginning. I saw myself originally as a plotter. I had to know what was going to happen and I thought all pantsers (those who write from the seat of their pants) were insane people. I heard Hank Phillippi Ryan speak once about the fact that she is a pantser, likening her approach to being a firefighter approaching a burning building. What started the fire? What was going on inside? Was anyone in danger? How would she save them? I was appalled. How could you not know?

I’m slowly getting the attraction.

This week I moved from making notes to writing the book that I’ve tentatively titled Glass Ceiling. It will be the second book featuring the Boston-based journalist Olivia Wolfe, and is scheduled to come out Fall of 2027.

In the four days I’ve been actually writing (after assembling notes for a few months), I have rewritten the opening chapter, changed several names, invented ten new characters (in addition to the three I already knew I needed) found my protagonist a place to live and a daycare for her son. (I should be so productive in real life!)

What is so deeply satisfying for me in this phase of writing is finding out who my protagonist is and what matters to them. A corollary to “what matters” is “what’s at stake if I take it away”: the metaphorical house fire. And my principle for that pretty much boils down to “make it worse.” James Patterson’s online Masterclass class talks about “taking it to eleven,” figuring out how to really crank up the stakes so that your character is more starkly defined against the adversity they face.

It does, I confess, take my mind to some dark places sometimes, and it undoubtedly gives my wife, the author Margot Anne Kelley, pause when I gleefully describe some horrible thing I’m doing to my characters.

Some of this is undoubtedly due to a higher level of confidence I feel, as I’m working now on my third and fourth books. But also, I think it is a discovery of the joy of the creative part of the craft. The fact that you are creating a world, giving your characters a place to feel their own joy, fear, grief, love, and triumph.

I wrote in one of my recent Wednesday Writing Tips about creative humility, specifically mentioning my journey in learning the cello, which is still less than a year old. In the context of today’s post I should probably be more focused on my piano playing, which is five plus years more mature.

A quick story to illustrate my point. On Instagram yesterday I got fed an ad for a concert at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts in March, featuring cellist Maya Beiser playing a piece by the minimalist Terry Riley. I’d never heard of her, so I looked her up and started listening to her work on YouTube. That’s when I discovered that she’s done renditions of some of Philip Glass’s work. The very first piece I found was her rendition of his Etude No. 5, a piece I have studied seriously on the piano. I was awestruck at her interpretation at the piece, but here’s the relevant part: I could appreciate her creative decisions because I’d knew the orignal craft of the piece.

So with beginnings now for me. I’m both hearing the new version of the story I’ve been telling myself in my head, and creating new versions of it as I begin the work. This is a different way of writing than I’ve considered before, and it’s been a thrilling beginning.

Currently reading The Night Manager, John le Carré, 1993. Had never gotten to it. Just watched the fantastic season one TV show from 2016 with Hugh Laurie and Tom Hiddleston, loving the few small changes they made. Will be diving into season two from 2026 soon!

Next in my TBR list: The Oxford Murders, Guillermo Martinez, translated by Sonia Soto, 2011. (I have scenes in Oxford planned for the third book in my Olivia Wolfe series, so want to start soaking up a little scenery before I visit for research.)

 

Posted in Rob's Posts | 6 Comments

Weekend Update: February 14-15, 2026

Posted on February 14, 2026 by kaitlynkathy

Next week at Maine Crime Writers there will be posts by Rob Kelley (Monday), John Clark (Tuesday), Kaitlyn Dunnett/Kathy Lynn Emerson (Thursday) and Maureen Milliken (Friday).

In the news department, here’s what’s happening with some of us who blog regularly at Maine Crime Writers:

 

An invitation to readers of this blog: Do you have news relating to Maine, Crime, or Writing? We’d love to hear from you. Just comment below to share.

And a reminder: If your library, school, or organization is looking for a speaker, we are often available to talk about the writing process, research, where we get our ideas, and other mysteries of the business, along with the very popular “Making a Mystery” with audience participation, and “Casting Call: How We Staff Our Mysteries.” We also do programs on Zoom. Contact Kate Flora

 

AND DON’T FORGET! One lucky Maine Crime Writers reader who leaves a comment on the blog this month will win a bundle of books!

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In Defense of Being Nosy

Posted on February 13, 2026 by Allison Keeton

Being nosy has a bad wrap, even from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, which says:

NOSY.
1. As in curious, interested in what is not one’s own business
2. As in busy, thrusting oneself where one is not welcome or invited

I’d like to present the positive side of being nosy. It’s really just
—Having curiosity
—Being observant
—Recognizing patterns
—Paying attention to what others miss

This isn’t meddling, it’s awareness, and in mystery writing, it’s practically a superpower. Writers have to be nosy.

We watch people in coffee shops. We eavesdrop in grocery lines. We take notes on ideas, problems, characterizations, gestures, and half-finished sentences. We’re collectors of human behavior, both the good and the bad.

We notice who hesitates before answering or who over-explains. Or who never makes eye contact, or who laughs a little too loudly.

We file it all away with the question, why are they behaving that way? These observations allow us to flesh out our characters and give them depth. Real people are layered: generous yet insecure, confident yet hiding something tender. I’m intrigued by the nuances that make us up, such as our pride, fear, regret, love, and jealousy.

One of my characters is always an amateur sleuth. And like many amateur sleuths, she is unapologetically nosy. This curious protagonist can:

— Overhear something that others ignore
— Look twice at what seems ordinary
— Ask uncomfortable or unexpected questions
— Bravely follow a hunch
— Act on instinct
— Connect minor details into a motive
— Sense when someone is protecting more than their reputation

I challenge you to think of one amateur sleuth who would have solved a mystery if he or she had minded his or her own business. Curiosity definitely solves crimes.



As children, we’re taught the proverb “curiosity killed the cat,” but we’re rarely taught the next line: “satisfaction brought it back.”

Most people only quote the first half, as a warning against poking around or being nosy, but the second half flips the meaning, suggesting that yes, curiosity can get you into trouble, but the answers you find make it worthwhile.

In modern times, curiosity is making a comeback. Corporate trainers use a learning tool called the Mood Elevator, designed by Larry Senn. Different feelings and reactions are assigned individual “floors,” and you’re encouraged to rise up to the “curious” floor from lower-energy floors, such as impatient or fearful.

Nosy at a low energy level is intrusive, but at a high energy level, it is curiosity. Curiosity asks questions without assuming and seeks to understand, not for ammunition.



In real life, being appropriately curious or nosy can help you protect people and can strengthen relationships. It’s what works in a neighborhood watch: preventing problems before they escalate, or noticing when someone hasn’t picked up their mail in a long time.

It makes you a better writer, interviewer, or conversationalist. Isn’t it also a best practice at a cocktail party to ask someone about themselves?

The heart of all of this is really the intention. If you are nosy with good intentions, it provides insight. If you are nosy and judgmental, it is pure gossip, to satisfy your ego rather than to solve a problem or improve a situation.

Yes, I am personally nosy, both as a writer and as a human being, and I have no expectations of changing. I’m going to continue to call a summer neighbor if I suddenly see a light on in their Maine home in the winter. I’m going to keep reaching out to another neighbor if packages start piling up at their mailbox. I’m not rummaging through the mail nor looking in the windows of the winterized, lit house. I’m contacting them out of concern, and I hope my intentions are taken as caring. If not, oh well. I will continue to defend being nosy, both for my own actions and those of my characters, although maybe I’ll switch to using the word “curious.”

                                                                    ***

Allison Keeton’s debut novel is Blaze Orange, Book One in the Midcoast Maine Mystery series. Arctic Green, Book Two, hits the streets (and snowmobile trails) in February 2026. She can be reached at http://www.akeetonbooks.com

Arctic Green, Book Two, Midcoast Maine Mystery series




Posted in Uncategorized | 11 Comments

And then I Fled to the Jungle

Posted on February 12, 2026 by mainecrimewriters

Kate Flora: Apologies for being so tardy today. We just got home at midnight after two long flights and I was too groggy earlier to put words together. My husband and I, recognizing that we aren’t getting any younger, decreed the 2026 would be “the year of travel.” The last seven days have marked the beginning of that with a Lindblad National Geographic trip to Costa Rica and Panama. Seven days on a small ship. Seven days when I don’t have to buy groceries or cook or do laundry. Seven days of rising and shining and putting on my water shoes and climbing into bouncing black zodiacs to explore coastal national parks.

 

I don’t know about you, but no matter how carefully I read the pre-trip materials, I’m always surprised by what really happens. I am sure I didn’t sign up for so much bird watching and I am grateful that there wasn’t a quiz on the botany. Still, it was a great adventure. Who expected plate tectonics? What could be more fun that seeing how pineapples grow, seeing coffee beans on a plant, and learning that there are square bananas? I didn’t know that a banana plant isn’t a tree but a plant that dies once it has produced bananas. We were lucky to have great naturalists along to explain what we were seeing.

Since my husband and I love snokeling, that was a highlight. Half the day on the beach, where I tried paddle boarding, and half the day swimming around a reef seeing dozens of different colorful fish.

Then, as the grand finale, we went through the Panama Canal. First, we watched a movie about the building of the canal, full of historical photos taken at the time. Then we parked near the entrance to the canal surrounded by enormous tankers and container ships. Those ships piled with containers look so precarious I don’t see why they don’t tip over. Someone said that a huge number of containers are lost every year and I’m not surprised.

 

At ten at night, sharing a lock with another ship, we slowly edged into the canal. Brilliantly lit. On both sides, funny little metal engines on tracks attached to the ship with cables that followed the ship to keep it steady in the canal. I must have been insufficiently curious before this trip because I didn’t know that there are canals and locks to raise the ships up and lower them down at either end but in the middle is a huge man-made lake filled with small islands that once were the tops of hills.

Those little islands are alive with an amazing diversity of wildlife and we spent a day cruising around the lake and hiking in a rainforest filled with beautiful birds. (I never would have seen them, which is why the guide with a scope is so important.)

A row of bats on a tree

Posted in Kate's Posts | 5 Comments

The Joy of Small Town Settings

Posted on February 11, 2026 by kaitlynkathy

Please welcome our special guest, Sylvie Kurtz, back to Maine Crime Writers. Once again things are jumping in the busy little village of Brighton, New Hampshire.

The Joy of Small Town Settings

by Sylvie Kurtz

There’s something charming about cozy mysteries set in small towns. Whether it’s the one-of-a-kind shops on Main Street, the tight-knit community where everyone knows everyone’s business, or the local traditions, these fictional small towns feel familiar and comforting. Like a place where you’d want to live. They often become characters themselves, making the perfect backdrop for amateur sleuthing.

Even with the occasional crime, there’s still a sense of safety and belonging, making the return to peace at the end all the more satisfying. Because everyone in the community is so close, unraveling secrets feels personal, and the journey to the happy ending is just as enjoyable as the solution.

In Brighton, NH, readers can get lost in a world of friendship, gossip-filled shops, and monthly festivals. Of Valentines and Vendetta takes place around Valentine’s Day during a Chocolate Festival (something I’ve always wanted to attend but can never seem to snag a ticket in time.) Ellie is coping with the anniversary of her chief of police husband’s death by baking mountains of muffins. And Page, who owns the local bookshop/café, mourns her brother’s loss by staying busy.

The murder of Page’s missing baker strains Ellie and Page’s relationship when Page becomes the prime suspect. But Ellie can’t abandon Page when she needs her most. Will dealing with grief keep Ellie from reading the clues and put Page’s future in jeopardy?

Small town settings in cozy mysteries are more than just scenery; they invite us to become part of a community, solve a puzzle, and maybe believe in the magic of a little town where everyone has a story—and a secret.

Sylvie writes stories that celebrate family, friendship and food. She likes dark chocolate, knitting with soft yarn and movies that require a box of tissues, especially if they have a hint of mystery. She’s written 28 books romance/romantic suspense/cozy mystery/women’s fiction. https://sylviekurtz.com

You can find Sylvie’s last visit to MCW here:
https://mainecrimewriters.com/2023/12/27/when-life-gives-you-pumpkins/

Of Valentines and Vendetta, A Brighton Village Cozy Mystery Novella #2Chocolate, coffee beans, and a side of murder.
When Page Hamlin’s baker vanishes on the opening day of the annual Chocolate Festival, she begs her sister-in-law Ellie to roll up her sleeves and help keep the Purple Page Bookshop and Café humming. For Ellie, the distraction is welcome—it’s the anniversary of her husband’s death, and baking is easier than crying.

But the celebration turns bittersweet when the missing baker is discovered in the dumpster out back…with her mouth stuffed full of chocolate-covered coffee beans. Even worse, the police find “evidence” that makes Page their prime suspect.

Ellie refuses to let her sister-in-law take the fall. Armed with curiosity, determination, and a dash of chocolate-fueled courage, Ellie sets out to uncover the real killer. But with too-perfect clues, simmering secrets, and plenty of suspects, she’ll have to be careful—or risk becoming the next victim on the menu.

In Brighton Village, murder has a way of spoiling even the sweetest treats.

Oliver Heber Books (2/10/26)  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FRSQZ8L

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A Series of Unfortunate Events

Posted on February 10, 2026 by Gabriela Stiteler

Earlier this month, I made arrangements to head to Reno, Nevada for a work trip. Under normal circumstances, Reno is a bit of a trek from Maine involving at least two connections. In the unfortunate circumstance of an ice storm in Dallas, it involves a little more.

Thus my story begins.

On Saturday, the day before my supposed flight, I got a message from an airline that will remain entirely nameless. It strongly encouraged me to leave early to miss the storm.

Don’t worry, this message said, we are going to reroute you through Dallas but trust us really everything is going to fine.

So I booked an extra night at my hotel in Reno, said good-bye to my kids and husband and dog, and departed. I made it to Philly with a minor delay. I had a late lunch/early dinner, talked to my sister, and tried to avoid looking at the sorts of things on my phone that make me feel like the world is going to hell.

Eventually, we took off for Dallas.

Which is where things got a little dicey.

Upon landing, I was informed no other flights were taking off. My bag? Nowhere to be found. Outside? Two inches of snow and no ground transportation.

I was thinking  this would be a slight delay. A little hiccup. A minor situation but, gosh, thank goodness I got out a day early and would still make it to Reno with plenty of time.

I called my husband. He found me a hotel in the area with a shuttle.

I called the hotel and inquired about the shuttle.

“I’m sorry,” the man at the desk said. “We  aren’t running the shuttle because of the snow.”

For those of you who have never been to Texas in a snowstorm – it is a little embarrassing. They do not have the appropriate equipment. The snow and ice pile up and melt and refreeze and melt and refreeze into solid trenches. People in Texas, who are good at many things, are not, as a rule, great at driving in the snow.

I did manage to find a ride share with a very nice lady who was coming into town for some sporting competition.

The next morning, I got a message indicating the airline found my bag. But of course the shuttle was still not running. The hotel gave me the number of a very nice, but very expensive car service man named Sammy. He took me back to the airport where we both quickly learned that, due to the weather, there was no ground transportation running between terminals.

A delightful feature of the Dallas airport is that a highway bisects the terminals making it impossible to get from one to another without said ground transportation services. Which made things complicated because my bag was in terminal D but my flight was in terminal C.

Sammy took me to terminal D and assured me that he would wait.

Unfortunately, there were some pretty significant staffing issues due to the two inches of snow and ice. Which meant there was nobody at the baggage claim area to retrieve my bag. I eventually found somebody who could help, brought my bag back out to Sammy, who then took me to the next terminal.

When I attempted to check in, I was told I had to get into another line because they would have to rerun a claim ticket for my bag.

In hindsight, this may have been a sign from the forces that be. A sign I dutifully ignored.

I stood in line for an hour behind a very nice woman from London who had been without her bag for two days. At the time, I thought her bag situation put my little overnight mishap into perspective.

I had recovered my bag, after all.

I was on my way to Reno, after all.

I checked my bag, went through security (again), got a coffee and a blueberry muffin, and settled in as my flight was delayed and delayed and delayed and delayed from ten thirty in the morning until seven pm. After a very complicated series of events with some real highs and lows, the flight was canceled.

Again.

I called my husband, who was becoming my travel guide. He contacted the hotel in Reno and canceled my car reservation. He booked me at a hotel near the airport that accepted the travel voucher the airline that shall remain unnamed offered up. I went down to the baggage claim to collect my luggage where I was told it would take at least twenty four hours for it to get off the plane for reasons that nobody could really state outright.

The lady in line behind me was very worried because her husband’s medicine was in her checked bag.

I was only missing clean socks and skivvies.

It put things into perspective.

I called the hotel. A lovely La Quinta near a Six Flags in Arlington. They sent a shuttle. It was filled with other aspirational Renophiles. The man at the desk offered me a toothbrush. He called me a “distressed traveller.” The restaurant accepted my twelve dollar travel voucher for food. I made friends with a man named Danny who used to do the rodeo circuit and lost a piece of his finger because of a bull, who came from a family of ropers and a lady cowboy named Leah who had seventeen dogs and a truck and knew all about horses. They told me about different styles of cowboy hats and talked a little about how people learn to do things that are hard.

I wish now that I’d paid for their beers, which were very cheap because the La Quinta understands distressed passengers are not looking to also be exploited.

At night, sheets of ice slid off the roof of the hotel. I had a hard time sleeping.

In the morning I ate a waffle shaped like the state of Texas.

I talked to the couple with the missing medicine. They had just put all three of their children through college and to celebrate had purchased a sailboat and were planning to sail around the world.

I wished them luck. They left.

After getting a message that my flight was scheduled to depart, I turned in my key. As soon as I turned in my key, I learned my flight had been cancelled and that my bag was lost. I called my husband. He found me another flight on another airline. Dallas to Denver to Reno. Leaving the next day.

I checked back into the hotel, sat in my hotel room, and pretended to work.

I was three days into the same clothes and starting to feel a little hopeless. Maybe I would never see my bag again.

At the hotel bar, a woman managed to get to Walmart. She bought a pack of six underwear and socks. She gave me a pair of each.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t need this many pairs.”

I never caught her name but it was really nice of her to give me underwear.

***

Before I left for Reno, I picked my younger son up from his after school program. He said, “Mommy, some of my friends weren’t in school.”

He said, “They are my friends from other countries.”

He said, “I’m worried about them and I’m angry.”

He said, “Is there something I can do?”

The nights I spent in the hotel room, I was thinking a little about my son, and his friends, and their parents.

***

The next day, I made it to the airport. I learned that somehow my bag ended up in Reno. The new airline got me from point A to point B with no issues. They gave me cookies and tomato juice on the plane. One of the flight attendants talked to a woman behind me who was having a panic attack. He gave her crackers and water and talked to her with kindness and the sort of assuredness a person having a panic attack needs to hear.

I was seated next to a flight attendant for the airline that shall remain nameless.

“Everything just sort of fell apart,” she said.

I suppose I agree with that statement.

***

I ended up making it to Reno, which is a delightful place.

I had some amazing Salvadoran food including Horchata de Morro, which is different from the Mexican kind that I’m used to. The guy who owned the restaurant is three generations deep in Reno. That he’s taking over the restaurant for his grandmother and auntie who do not write anything down, which makes recipes tough. I got to see a Dorothea Lange exhibit at the Nevada Museum of Art, and met Ms. Norma, who is eighty-seven and a Senior in Service at the Boys and Girls Club and a lunch monitor. I met a local muralist who is working with the kids to design something beautiful and surreal and a little weird, which I love.

The kids were kind and funny and asking all the right questions. They told me about other experiences in other schools that didn’t go so well. They told me about their hopes and dreams, about their families, and about what sort of learning they like to do most. They gave me stickers with coffee and books and said things like, “Yeah you seem like the sort of person that would be really into going to a museum.”

Which still makes me smile because I do love a museum.

I get to go back in April.

I will not ever, ever, ever check a bag again.

And there’s probably something more buried here that I’ll stumble across later.

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