Writing Goals

Later this year, I'll be publishing my eighth novel. Six of them have been mysteries in my Brad Frame series. COLD OATH will join KISSES OF AN ENEMY in my suspense novels.

Even as I'm still working on a project I have to think ahead. I've got an idea for a new Brad Frame novel. But I've also been thinking about working on a Brad Frame short story. I've written five short stories (all available for free on my website), but haven't attempted a Frame short story.

In terms of overall goals, I'd like to build my readership -- expose new readers to my material. I've recently heard from a number of people who, having found one of my books, end up going out and buying all of them. That's exactly what an author wants. In my case, it might boost sales so that I can afford to buy French onion dip to have with my potato chips. :-)

For me, writing has never been about making a lot of money. Good thing, right? I enjoy entertaining people with good mysteries and suspense stories. But there is a part of me that would like an expanded readership. My goal has always been to write good stories. Marketing is not my strong suit, but these days it goes with the territory of being a writer.

I "put my stuff out there" on social media, but I try not to do it so frequently as to elicit eye-rolls every time a person sees a new post from me on Facebook.

Still, the most important goal in my opinion is to write the best mystery/suspense possible. I'm always gratified by the feedback I receive from readers. Thanks to those of you among my very loyal fans.

Recent Reviews

You've heard that phrase: "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

I feel that way about reviews. I've been blessed with many fine reviews, and I'll share a few below. But every once in awhile I see one that makes me wonder if the "reviewer" has even read the book. Are they posting reviews on Amazon to create mischief? I'm only a mystery writer, but my guess is yes.

In response to one such "1 star" review, I posted a comment indicating that I was sorry the person was disappointed with the book and offering to refund their money. I never heard from the person.

In another recent review of FINAL JUROR, which is actually two stories in one, the reviewer wondered if Rachel (a character who wanted Brad Frame to investigate her father's death) was being honest with the detective about what she knew. If the person had read the complete book, there would be no doubt on that question. The reviewer might also have made mention of the second - and larger aspect - of the novel. <sigh>

Here are a couple of review snippets from my most recent books:

FINAL JUROR

Shows readers both sides of a trial by following the closing of a cold case and the jury tribulations on

a scandalous murder trial. A solid entry in the Brad Frame series, a welcoming introduction to new readers, and an overall fantastic read.

In more than one scene, there is a sense of strong ambition on the writer's part for Brad Frame to appear like Myron Bolitar (created by Harlan Coben) and Alex Delaware (created by Jonathan Kellerman). Characters were believable and the excellent development of character relationships with one another made this an easy read. I was left intrigued to the end and could not wait to finish this good mystery read.

EMBALMED

This is the second book I have read by Ray Flynt. His concoction of a mystery can keep you glued to your seat while you become engrossed with Brad Frame's latest case...Highly descriptive, plotted to perfection and very entertaining. If you like James Patterson, Harlen Coben or Robert Galbraith, Brad Frame is a detective you must read about. Highly recommended for its plot.

A Fun Short Story

TRUDY AND HERB

Since retiring, my husband kept the same morning routine. Herb would amble from the bedroom around 8:30 a.m. wearing plaid boxer shorts and a ten-year-old wife beater with sweat stains at the armpits that defied detergent. He’d plop down at the table, greet me with a where’s-my-breakfast glare, and thumb through the newspaper hunting the daily crossword puzzle.

Frankly, I missed the days when Herb jumped out of bed at five, left me undisturbed, and grabbed a bagel on the way to work.

“Herb, you never talk to me,” I whined. Silence.

Without looking up from his puzzle, Herb blurted out, “Recondite.”

“Excuse me?”

“Seven letters. Second one’s a B.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know some obscure word?” I said.

“That’s it,” he shouted. “Obscure!”

I hadn’t seen him that excited since our wedding night. To thank me, he shoved his empty coffee cup in my direction.

“We’re out of coffee,” I informed him. “How ‘bout a Colt 45 malt liquor?”

His eyes brightened until I said I was being facetious.

“I put coffee on that shopping list I handed you three days ago,” I chided him. “If you’d done as I asked, there’d be plenty of coffee.”

He merely shrugged.

Whenever I confided to my sister, Joan would say, “Trudy, I advised you not to marry him forty-five years ago.” How could I know Joan had the power of prophecy? She ended our conversations with, “Pray about it.”

Oh how I prayed.

Then a few Sundays ago, Pastor Jeff gave a sermon based on 1 Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 55. O death, where is thy sting. It gave me an idea. As I exited the church that morning I told Jeff, “I’ve been praying for God’s help.”

Pastor clasped me by the elbow and said, “God helps those who help themselves.” I nodded. That’s exactly what I intended to do.

Herb belched. It was time to call my sister and put my plan in motion.

After a few minutes of small talk I told Joan, in a voice loud enough to draw Herb’s attention, “I spotted a swarm of bees this morning in the snapdragons just outside our kitchen window.”

Herb glanced up from the crossword puzzle, a twinge of apprehension in his eyes.

“You’re right, Joan. I hope they stay outside. You know how allergic Herb is. I added an EpiPen to his shopping list, since we’re all out.” I neglected to mention that I’d destroyed the only one we had. “Oh no!” I shrieked, “One’s buzzing around Herb. I gotta go.” I ended the call.

Herb bolted upright looking first left, then right.

That’s when I jabbed him in the left shoulder with the syringe of bee serum. He slapped his hand over the spot, rubbing it. Herb’s eyes widened like he’d just seen a purple jackalope lumbering through the kitchen. His body convulsed. It all happened so fast.

According to the coroner, death was from anaphylactic shock. I credited the power of prayer.