Top Five Things This Writer Is Thankful For

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‘Tis the season for giving thanks, and here are my top five things (in no particular order) that I’m thankful for this November–related to writing, of course!

Bloggers and twitter followers

Without the continued chatter among bloggers and tweeters, where would we writers be? Writing can be so isolating, and for those of us who live out in the middle of nowhere, that isolation is amplified. I love connecting with others this way when in-person meetings aren’t possible.

Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America

I spent last weekend in Chicago to attend functions put on by Sisters in Crime (the Chicagoland chapter) and Mystery Writers of America (the Midwest chapter). It was my first experience in-person with both groups, and the camaraderie was something to behold. Members are at various stages in the writing journey, from just starting out to published authors many times over. The best part? The genuine friendliness and willingness to help each other out. I walked away from both events feeling encouraged and revived.

NaNoWriMo regional group

I’ve long complained about the lack of formal writing groups in my area–I’m three hours from Chicago–but I joined up with our regional NaNoWriMo group, and wow. Just wow. They are some really cool people whose goals are as varied as are our genres. Writing is such a solitary endeavor, and it’s so nice to be in the company of like-minded people who help me remember to keep writing!

NaNoWriMo student group

This year, I started an after-school NaNoWriMo group for students at the high school where I teach. We had a Harry Potter-themed kick-off party and regular write-ins, and though it’s caused me to miss a lot of my “grown-up” regional write-ins, it’s a good trade-off. Seeing my students confer with one another about what the next best plot point is and sharing their work with their peers (and even me!) makes me smile. My favorite moment thus far was when it was pitch black save for the battery-operated candles hanging from the ceiling a la Hogwarts, and all you could hear was the clicking of keys. Every single one of us was engrossed in our own writing, yet we were doing it all together. Magical.

Early readers

Our school’s librarian was an English teacher in the early days of her career. She has become a good friend to me, personally and professionally. When I gathered the courage to tell her I was thinking of writing, she showered me with encouragement. She was an early reader for everything I wrote, and when The Devil Inside Me became more than a notion, she beta-read, discovering plot points and typos, offering suggestions and honest criticism. Without her enthusiasm, I doubt I would have ever finished the novel, let alone submitted it to agents and publishers.

What are you thankful for?

 

H. H. Holmes Hits the Headlines

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Imagine my surprise when I saw a link pop up in my Facebook feed with this headline: River North hotel invites guests to spend a killer night in H.H. Holmes pop-up suite

Yep. You read that correctly.

If you’ve followed by blog for any length of time, you know that my novel is based on the murders of H.H. Holmes. He’s received some cult-level popularity via Erik Larsen’s book, The Devil in the White City, the recent History channel American Ripper docuseries, and even American Horror Story. And now, for a limited time, the Acme Hotel Company in River North is converting a hotel suite into a Holmes-lover’s dream. Or is that nightmare?

Decor included in your scare stay: old newspaper clippings, surgical tools, and Holmes’ mug staring at you. All. Night. Long.

Acme Hotel, this Holmes fanatic thinks you’ve landed on a spectacular idea.

Attached in the same Tribune article? A link to an interactive “walking tour” of the 1893 World’s Fair. Incredibly cool, and not just for a writer’s research either! 

Chicago Writing Workshop

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It’s not too late! There are still open spots for you to sign up and attend the Chicago Writing Workshop that’s happening on Saturday, June 23. If you’re looking for a conference that won’t break the bank (especially if you’re near Chi-town and don’t need a hotel), check this one out. Likewise, if the thought of spending two or more days with a bunch of strangers is terrifying, this is a one-day 9-5 workshop. You can do lunch all by yourself if you so desire.

Bonus: It’s held at the architecturally beautiful Congress Plaza hotel, which also happens to feature prominently (read: murder scene!) in my novel, The Devil Inside Me.

Registration is just $169. I thought that a fair price for what’s offered. Literary agents, editors, and authors deliver most of the workshop sessions. And for each of the five breakout blocks, there are three sessions to choose from. Some are applicable to everyone, such as “Pursuing a Small Press Publisher,” and some are geared to specific genres: “How to Write a Nonfiction Book Proposal,” “How to Write and Pitch Awesome Science Fiction and Fantasy,” “How to Get Your Young Adult and Middle Grade Novels Published,” “Tell Me True: Tips on Writing Memoir and Essay.”

I’m particularly looking forward to the “Query Letter Comprehensive” session since that is the next step on my list after these edits that seemingly never end.

For reasonable add-on fees, you can also pitch agents and editors of all genres ($29 per). Several are sold out of time slots, but to give you an idea of the caliber we’re talking about, here’s just a few on the list: Emily Clark Victorson, Marcy Posner, Tracy Brennan, Abby Saul…

Sound like a decent deal? I thought so. I’ll let you know how it went afterward–and if you’re attending, I’d love to meet!

The Murderous Mystery Tour…

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The Murderous Mystery Tour is coming to take you away… (My apologies to Paul and John. I couldn’t help myself.)

If you’re simultaneously creeped out and fascinated by the likes of H.H. Holmes, take a trip to Chicago for two well-done tours of the good, er, bad doctor’s stomping grounds.

Weird Chicago’s bus tour takes you “on a journey back in time to not only the places where Holmes sought out and dispatched his victims, but also to take a look at the remnants of the spectacular fair” of 1893. I went on this tour in the summer of 2017, and it was phenomenal–and one of the reasons I began writing The Devil Inside Me. The tour guide was super animated and knowledgeable about all things Holmes. At the time I’m writing this, tickets are $35. Weird Chicago has other tours as well, including the Roaring 20s Speakeasy Tour (21 and up only!) and the Blood, Guns, and Valentine’s Tour.

Adam Selzer, author of H.H. Holmes: The True History of the White City Devil, runs a walking tour in the Windy City. Selzer’s tour differs from Weird Chicago’s in that he focuses on the not-so-known locations that Holmes would have visited. I took this tour in the fall of 2017, and it too was phenomenal. Selzer is not theatrical as the other tour’s guide was; rather, he provides the details of Holmes’ life that often get lost in the legend–and he distinguishes fact from the fiction that history tends to create. Tickets are currently $20 (for his other tours as well). Selzer runs the Mysterious Chicago podcast and website, and he was a consulting producer on the History channel’s series about Holmes, American Ripper.

If you’re in the Windy City, you don’t want to miss these tours. Let me know what your experiences are!

Excerpt #2 from The Devil Inside Me

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Another excerpt from The Devil Inside Me! Meet Detective Davis Dunleavy, our protagonist, as he encounters the first crime scene. I’d love to hear your feedback via comments, and if you’d like to read more, sign up for my emailing list here!


Detective Davis Dunleavy slammed his car door shut and promptly pulled his coat collar up around his neck. Crime tape stretched across the revolving entry doors, where the Museum of Science and Industry placed a sign apologizing for the temporary closure. He flashed his badge at the rookie positioned at the door.

The cavernous lobby was eerily quiet. He saw a few patrons, witnesses detained by the museum’s security guard, sitting just outside of the gift shop, and a dozen or so museum employees hanging around the ticketing registers. A giant steam locomotive looked as if it were coming directly at him. He headed for the escalator.

“Supposed to be your day off, Davis?” The voice came from behind him. He turned to smile at Adele Murphy.

“How’d you know?”

“Wrinkled shirt.” She winked and jabbed him in the arm. “Just like college.”

He jabbed her back, careful to avoid her massive camera bag.

“I’m just a stand-in. Armstrong and Bucalo from Organized Crime are knee-deep investigating that bid-rigging business. The FBI has set up shop on the 7th floor. And, since my stalwart partner is out in Montana for bereavement leave, Bowers sent me.”

“That’s too bad about Jon’s mother,” Adele said. “Wait–you’re back-up for Organized Crime now?”

“I guess I am today. Any clue what this is about?”

“They didn’t tell you?” she said, incredulous.

Davis shook his head as he stepped off the escalator. They flashed their badges to another rookie and were waved to a corner of the first floor.

“Murder.”

A marvelous yet grotesque sight greeted them. This museum didn’t play: from three-story tornadoes to a full-size German u-boat, it was a place of learning and discovery for both children and adults, and it was enormous–one of the biggest in the world. The DNA and the Devil in the White City display alone was 3700 square feet in an octagonal space. Intended to be a supplement to the genetics exhibit (famous for its chicken hatchery), ten foot tall DNA helices stood on either side of the exhibit’s entrance, but the first thing visitors saw was H.H. Holmes’ now-familiar face gazing out from the wall furthest from the entrance–a full two-stories tall, eyes leering with the effect of watching a patron no matter where they stood. Along the bright white walls were explanations and hands-on activities relating to the collecting and extracting of DNA, and what genetic markers were and how they helped identify bodies and clear suspects. An infographic proclaimed, “Your genome is an instruction manual for how you grow throughout life. You get half your DNA from your father, and half from your mother. Did H.H. Holmes pass on a serial killing genome?” A replica of Holmes’ concrete-encased double-grave was at the center of it all.

Most of the police concentrated their attention along one of the side walls, titled “Identifying Murder Victims…and Their Murderers.” Davis nudged Adele and pointed.

“Fitting,” he said.

As they moved forward, a large, antique-looking steamer trunk at the foot of the display came into view, and in it was a body. At first glance, considering the macabre nature of the rest of the exhibit, it almost looked like it belonged–except it was freshly dead.

“Hey, Chapman.” Davis nodded in the direction of the officers standing guard. “Avery. You guys have been promoted from front door duty, I see?”

Avery grinned. “Yep. Only took six months.”

“How’s life, Dunleavy?” Chapman asked.

“Better than this poor soul’s.” Davis craned his neck at the crime scene as he pulled on latex gloves. Another infographic explained that DNA could have been collected from one of Holmes’ trunks to help identify both the victim and the killer if only the technology had been available–or if they still had one of the trunks because of trace DNA.

“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? Never thought we’d get a call for a murder up here. Figured it’d be someone trying to steal something.”

“No kidding. What have you found so far? Fill me in.”

“Whatcha see is whatcha get,” Chapman said. “No one seems to know how this girl got here. And in the trunk no less.”

“M.E. on the way?” Davis asked.

“Yep.”

“Any guesses on the time of death?”

“Not ’til the M.E. gets here, but we know there was no body in the trunk as of 6am this morning,” Avery pointed out.

“Oh?” Davis replied, walking around the trunk. “How do you know that?”

Avery tossed his head across the room.

“The tall brunette over there. Says she was the last one in here–at least before the body arrived. That guy–” Avery nodded in the opposite direction. “He checked in on things at 8am and 8:45am, but only to make sure the lights were on. He couldn’t say if there was a body there or not.”

Davis raised an eyebrow. Avery spread his hands wide.

“I know. Said he was checking the lights.”

“Do they have security tapes?”

“Working on it.”

“Thanks, Ave.” A bright flash lit up the already very white display as Adele began to photograph the scene. Chapman shielded his eyes.

“Man. Whoever created this show really went for the White City theme,” Chapman said.

“Like Burnham did,” Avery replied.

“Burnham?” Davis asked.

“He had all of the Exposition buildings whitewashed so they looked like they were glowing.” Chapman stepped aside to make room for Adele. “Plus they used streetlights on the Midway.”

“Exposition?” Davis asked again.

“The Columbian Exposition of 1893? The World’s Fair?” Surprise was in Avery’s tone.

“Ah. The World’s Fair,” Davis replied.

“You didn’t know that?” Chapman asked, eyes wide with doubt.

“Sounds vaguely familiar. Don’t know much about this–” Davis waved his hand around the exhibit.

“You live under a rock, Dunleavy? You almost can’t miss this stuff these days,” Chapman said. “I mean, no offense, but it’s everywhere.”

“No offense taken.”

“This sounds like one for you. Like the Petoskey case,” Avery said. “Who the hell would do this?”

“Not for me, boys. The Chief called up Organized Crime, but they’re busy with the Feds.”

“Organized Crime? Geez.” Chapman screwed up his face and hesitated. “Say, Ave, this doesn’t seem like Organized Crime to me. You?”

Avery was shaking his head. He turned to Davis. “I know we’re rookies and all, Dunleavy, but when’s the last time you saw any type of gangster put a body all nice and neat like in a trunk–and then put it in a museum for everyone to see?”

“Can’t say as I have, Avery.” He snapped off his gloves.

The Devil Inside Me

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Love mysteries? Crime novels? Whodunnits? Read on. If you like history as a basis for fiction, even better. AND if you like the psychology behind why people kill, especially serial killers, The Devil Inside Me is right up your alley. I’ve dedicated my posts thus far to my writing journey and advice for writers, but this one is for the readers!

What’s it about? 

A purported descendant of Dr. H. H. Holmes resurrects his family legacy. Gruesome discoveries litter Chicago, and the murderer has no desire to hide these deeds like his (or her?) serial-killing ancestor. Instead, the modus operandi is all about bringing back the fame and glory of Holmes to the Windy City–and to the family name.

Detective Davis Dunleavy has his own family legacy: his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all bled blue for the Chicago Police Department. Dunleavy is called in to make sense of the crime scene peculiarities, but unlikely suspects and scant evidence mean he doesn’t make the Holmes connection fast enough for the murderer’s timetable. When the killing spree collides with his past, Dunleavy must determine what his own legacy will be. 

Frequently touted as “Chicago’s First Serial Killer,” if you don’t know who Dr. H. H. Holmes is, just Google. Essentially the good doctor was a scam artist and murderer who lured women to their deaths in his murder castle–yes, murder castle–with his charming personality. (Check out Holly Carden’s super cool rendition of the murder castle.)

Last year, my book club chose to read Erik Larsen’s Devil in the White City. I wasn’t thrilled with the choice. It’s non-fiction. I’d rather read, well, just about anything than non-fiction. But I began, and holy heck. Erik Larsen’s work does not read like a dry textbook–it reads like fiction and alternates between the intersecting histories of Holmes and the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition–also known as the World’s Fair–in Chicago. I had to kept reading the preface to ensure that it was indeed not fictional.

Reading Devil in the White City gave me dozens of ideas for writing about Holmes. Then the book club arranged a trip to Chicago for–yep, you guessed it–The Devil in the White City tour. Led by a charismatic tour guide who knew his stuff, the bus tour stopped at assorted locations that had some sort of connection to Holmes.

My interest piqued further.

THEN, the History channel’s American Ripper show arrived. Jeff Mudgett, H. H. Holmes’ great-great-grandson was the driving force behind the show, wanting to know if his murdering gramps might also be Jack the Ripper. (Mudgett has also written his own non-fiction, Bloodstains, about his family’s past.) I watched, then re-watched and took notes. At this point, my husband was questioning my sanity–and maybe his safety. I still wasn’t sure what my novel would look like, but I knew I had to write something about the man–not to glorify him or his actions, but to explore the whys behind it. (Disclaimer: Jeff Mudgett is not my inspiration for this murderous descendant of Holmes. He seems like a perfectly nice guy.)

My quest turned to reading whatever I could on this charmer. Adam Selzer, a Chicago native with a penchant for truth-telling, wrote H. H. Holmes: The True Story of the Devil in the White City. He was also a recognized expert on the American Ripper show, and he shares his vast knowledge and research on his website and in his Chicago walking tour about Holmes–totally different from the other, just as interesting and informative.

Somewhere in between American Ripper and going back to Chicago for Selzer’s tour (on a very brisk November day…brrrrr…), my plot bunny officially made its nest in my brain:

Our antagonist’s family made it their tradition to hide their salacious past. I mean, who wants to be known as the grandkid of a serial killer? But within the family, it was also tradition to pass on the stories of their ancestors: stories of power and might forged by being the first settlers of a small town in New Hampshire in the 1600s. 

He has decided to eschew his name and live life as he feels his family should have been all along, by showcasing their talents to bring them power. His version of that? Murder, just like Holmes. Repeatedly, until everyone notices.

Detective Davis Dunleavy gets saddled with first one murder, then another. With crime scenes as clean as a bottle of Clorox, and no apparent connections among any of the murder victims, he is at a loss for leads. The only connection he can find: they’re all taking place in locations that have something to do with the World’s Fair, and they’re all taking place in a manner consistent with Holmes’ modus operandi. The problem? Everyone around him thinks he’s crazy for even thinking so.

Dunleavy struggles to get a break in the case until the killer decides to lend him a hand–just figuratively speaking–but with it comes a threat that could end Dunleavy’s flawless career. He must tread carefully to uncover the killer–because this killer has no problem continuing his spree for as long as it takes.

Whatcha think? Sounds good? Needs a different twist? Want to read a snippet from chapter one? Sign up for my emailing list here!