One question I’m frequently asked by readers is “Do I have to read your books in order?”
The short answer is no. Then again, when do I ever give a short answer? I usually tell the asker no, you don’t, but while each book in my Bernadette “Bernie” O’Dea mystery series wraps up the story in the book, the character arcs and relationships develop as the books continue, so if it were me, I’d read them in order. I usually add that when I realize I’m reading a book that’s part of a series, it doesn’t take away from my enjoyment to know it’s not the first book. But once I’m done, I go back and start at the beginning.
Of course, exactly what I say depends on the situation. I had a table at the awesome Central Aroostook Chamber of Commerce holiday craft fair in December, and ran out of the first book in the series, Cold Hard News. The vendor next to me — not a writer — suggested that I don’t tell people what order the books are in, so they wouldn’t realize they’re not buying the first one. Of course, I couldn’t do that. But I did stress to potential buyers the “you don’t have to read them in order” part a little more strongly.
It’s a fine tightrope we walk when we write a mystery series. The balancing act gets tighter with each new book.
As a reader I was always annoyed when horrific life-altering things happened to a main character in a book, but they were completely unaffected in the next book in the series. On the other hand, spoilers or detail-laden references to earlier events can be confusing. Is this part of the plot of, or relevant to, this book?
Of course, once I started writing, I understood it’s not that easy to balance it out. As I worked my way through the first three books of my Bernie O’Dea series, I was conscious of walking that tightrope in a way that would be best for all readers — new ones and those who’d read previous books.
As I get close to finishing Dying For News, the fourth in the series, that tightrope is a daily writing challenge. Bad things have happened to Bernie in the first three books, as well as police chief Pete Novotny. It’s a mystery series, so that’s par for the course. Bernie is a “normal” person, one of my goals for my female protagonist when I began writing mysteries. She doesn’t have super-human powers, fashion-model looks or the uncanny ability to intuit what the bad guy is going to do and therefor save everyone from imminent disaster. Being a normal person also means that she doesn’t take life-threatening situations in stride. Pete — sorry, buddy — has taken a beating, particularly in the third book, Bad News Travels Fast. He also has PTSD stemming from childhood trauma and his years as a Philadelphia homicide cop. The extent of his PTSD becomes more apparent with each book, a major thread of the character and relationship arc.

So, as I write the fourth book, how do I acknowledge the foundations laid by the first three without giving away clues to the mysteries that happened in those books? How do I do it without leading readers to feel as though they need to have read those books to understand what’s going on in this one? How do I do it without giving so much information that it makes it seem as though those references to the past are part of this book’s plot?
I’ve set some writing rules for walking that tightrope that I try to follow as I write the fourth book in the Bernie O’Dea series.
1 Be sure to include necessary character background. It’s easy to forget, since in my mind these aren’t separate books, but an ongoing narrative, that new readers need basic introductions to the characters. These introductions, though, shouldn’t bore established readers or give more detail than is necessary. For instance, new readers must know that Bernie bought her weekly newspaper in north-western Maine after years of working at bigger-city New England dailies, and that it’s the newspaper she started out at 20 years before. They need to know she’s from a big family and her seven siblings are all doctors and lawyers. They also need to know that Pete was a homicide cop in Philadelphia before coming to Redimere, that he has PTSD, and that his brother died at 15. Those and other basics actually become more necessary to get out early in later books, so that the deeper nuances of relationships make sense to new readers.
2 Don’t include too much character background. Revealing too much can not only be distracting and confusing, but also weakens the narrative of previous books for those who haven’t read them yet. A good developing character and relationship arc through a series must be as fun for readers as it is for the writer. Readers who don’t start at the beginning shouldn’t be left out of the fun of the journey the characters took to where they are now.
3 Refer to previous plots without revealing resolutions or saying so much that it spoils the previous books. The reason I focused on characters in the first two points is because that’s trickier for me, since the development of the relationship is a thread that runs through the books. The plots of my books, conversely, are contained within the book. There aren’t any plot cliff-hangers when the book is done. But still, stuff happened in previous books that has an impact on what’s going on in the current one. Just as with character background, revealing too much is a distraction to readers — anything from too much exposition to misleading them into thinking it’s part of the plot of the current book. So, for instance, in Dying For News, Pete has a severely injured leg because of a “hiking accident” he suffered in Bad News Travels Fast. It’s relevant to the plot, but how he got it isn’t that important. Revealing details of how he got it would also spoil the drama for readers who haven’t yet read the previous book. In another example, Bernie flips out whenever she sees, or even hears about, Fergus Kelley, a feckless reporter for an online news outlet. His lack of ethics caused issues for her in the previous two books. Readers of the new book learn fast how she feels, but can understand it without knowing the details of what he did [although a nicely placed “he almost got me killed” doesn’t hurt].
4 You can’t make everyone happy. This goes for almost every choice a writer makes. It’s a garden party where you can’t please everyone, so you have to please yourself [a post for a future day]. When walking the series tightrope, specifically, it’s up to me to make sure I follow the first three rules with as much attention as possible. Once I’ve satisfied myself that I’m revealing enough to give readers the insight and information they need to enjoy the current book without feeling as though they’re missing something, or being distracted, it’s in their hands.
5 Give readers credit. Readers who are familiar with mystery series know that if they are introduced mid-series there will likely be references to the past that they’re not going to find out more about unless they read the previous books. I’ve written before about how to read a mystery series. I fully believe that mystery lovers have it down. Readers new to mysteries will pick it up. Readers are smart about what they read, for the most part. If I follow point 4, and make sure I walk the tightrope as skillfully as I can, I know they’ll follow right behind me.

Who else came to mind? Jimmy Durante voicing a song at the end of Sleepless in Seattle. You may have noticed that most of my examples of distinctive voices are, shall we say, old. Well, so am I!

Regular readers of this blog have already heard my story about Thea and the flashlight, and how I emailed a number of my police advisors before I had her pick up the flashlight in the kitchen and head down to the dark basement to check on why the furnace wasn’t working. I learned that one attribute of a good flashlight when you’re searching and don’t want to give your location away is a silent UI. I had to ask what a UI was. Not just an on and off switch, but a “user interface.”
When my husband and I were first married, we taught and lived in a boarding school in Massachusetts. We had twenty eighth grade boys (shudder) in our care in the dorm, which as you can imagine held various perils. Someone really had to be with them at all times. Even then, a kid managed to break his arm horsing around.


Raven is set in Boston in the spring of 1990, when Cambridge was still gritty and before the Big Dig blew up downtown. It’s easy to draw contrasts between then and now: pay phones instead of cell phones, dial up modems instead of broadband internet, less computing power in a supercomputer than you have in your cell phone in your pocket. (A current iPhone is 5000 times more powerful than the pictured 32 million dollar 1984 Cray-2 Research supercomputer!)
By most standards a book set in 1990 doesn’t even count as a “historical” novel. (Definitions of “historical fiction” vary widely: before 1950, at least 50 years earlier, etc. I call mine “near historical.” I’m a writer; I get to make stuff up.) Even thirty years gives me enough distance to make the world seem very different from our own.
An online retail giant dominating the economy while the small business landscape is wiped out. And an exponential erosion of job security and worker protections. And children learning remotely as municipal budgets are crippled. And government sitting idly by while corporations rake in record profits.
Happy National Library Week! As writers, we spend a lot of time in libraries talking about our work, doing research, and getting the next book to read. To celebrate our love of libraries, today we’re sharing photos of us in libraries. If we haven’t been to yours yet, there’s still time to plan an event for summer. Making a Mystery, with patron involvement? Casting Call: How Writers Find Their Characters, Why Maine? – Crime writers on why Maine is such fertile group for our stories, There’s a Whole Iceberg Under the Surface: Mystery Writers and the Research They Do.












And then there are those great free breakfasts that most hotels serve or put out on buffet: they usually start at 8 am and grazing an amazing buffet of pastry, eggs, yogurt, sausages and smoked salmon takes my mind off crime and mystery writing. Why didn’t I write in bed at 5 am? The snoring from the person next to me can put me on edge. Why didn’t I just head to the lobby at 5 am? The hotel lobbies (if large enough) tend to have short drink tables, not desk-level tables, and I don’t like to type with a laptop on my lap (even though my dislike goes against the idea of what the “lap” top was designed for). And if I had enjoyed the secret speakeasy the night before (you need to know the address and where the hidden doorbell is to get in – there’s no signage because it IS secret), the early Lobby-Write wasn’t going to work.
And if the only time you can tour the Tinned Fish Factory in Porto (a passion for sardines is responsible for this plan) is 9:30 am and you have to take a train to the outer part of the city, so you have to leave for the station at 8:35, the Morning-Write is again dinged.
The stunning Lello bookstore inspired J.K. Rowling to create a similar place in her Harry Potter series. (She was teaching English in Porto and started outlining/writing Harry Potter in the city.

Smartly dressed waiters sweep over and give you a menu that lists lots of coffees and ports and cocktails. The most incredible food-treat was a quickly-dipped- and-fried French Toasts served with bananas and drowned in maple syrup.


















