Kathleen Kaska

A Voice That Resonates

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A Voice That Resonates

If asked to name writers with a distinct voice, I could rattle off a list: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Karen Blixen, Raymond Chandler, Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Stephen King, John Irving, Anne Rice. Defining “voice,” however, is far more elusive.

When I first started writing fiction, I went to a writers’ conference where the presenter described voice as the emotional connection between the writer and the reader. That idea stayed with me—and clarified something I had experienced but hadn’t named.

Early on, I focused on plot because I didn’t know how to build one. Voice barely registered until I picked up a novel by an unfamiliar author. It was his fourth book—and a bestseller. The characters carried me through more than four hundred pages. I immediately bought his earlier novels and struggled through them, finishing out of curiosity. The difference was unmistakable. In the fourth book, I could hear the characters’ voices. In the first three, I couldn’t. He hadn’t found it yet—or hadn’t learned how to sustain it. Since then, I’ve read everything he’s written. He’s now a favorite.

Voice isn’t plot, character, or setting—though it brings all three to life. It’s the writer’s way of seeing and presenting the world on the page.

Consider The Great Gatsby. From its opening lines, Nick Carraway speaks with an intimate, reflective ease, as if confiding across a café table. That conversational authority draws the reader in and keeps them engaged.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout Finch views injustice through a child’s honest, questioning perspective. Her voice not only narrates the story— it amplifies its moral impact.

And in the novel  Rebecca the narrator—the second Mrs. de Winter—voice carries a quiet melancholy that settles over the entire novel, shaping how we experience Manderley before we fully see it.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain on the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper and had no answering and peering closer to the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.

A strong plot, character, and setting are essential. But voice is what makes a story personal—what transforms pages into an experience. It’s the difference between a book we finish and one we remember. It’s the icing on the cake.

What are your favorite books with strong voices that speak to you?

https://kathleenkaska.com/

An illustration of a laptop with a spam email

AI Ruined My Spam

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Where Has All the Good Spam Gone?

We’re all familiar with spam emails. I doubt there’s an adult in America who hasn’t received an email from someone letting us know that THERE ARE SINGLES LOOKING FOR SEX NEAR YOU. However, since the rise of AI I’ve noticed a shift in my inbox. Gone are the days of Nigerian princes, IRS agents demanding gift cards, and fake invoices for an iPhone you never ordered (Quick! Click on that link!! It’s so, so urgent!). Now I get personalized emails talking about my books in breathless terms and low-key requests to contact them if I’m interested.  It’s so clear that someone has had AI scan my website or Amazon page to create personalized content that I can delete the emails without getting through the first paragraph.

Isn’t AI Personalized Spam Better?

Like a lot of AI slop, personalized spam is not better than good old-fashioned crap.  The compliments, syntax, and tone are entirely lacking in authenticity.  And while I suppose it’s possible to feel complimented by a machine, the platitudes carry all the heft of Pete Hegseth’s compliments on leadership—I don’t believe them, and they devalue the speaker for their blatant lack of any real knowledge on the subject. And aside from simply sounding implausible and obviously lacking in sincerity, since AI, authors have become a specifically targeted group.  Where once we were hard to pin down or gather information on, AI has turned mass data consumption and website scanning into a breeze.  The scammers no longer have to put in effort to learn about us or our books and can pump out email after email promising things that authors want (reviews, sales, readers).  But that lack of effort shows, and frankly, it’s insulting.  Scammers need to do better.

I took a brief poll of the Stiletto Gang, and we all agree that the spam rate increased to a deluge once AI took off.  And of course, we’re worried about deleting that one real person who emails, but many of us are deleting as fast as our fingers can click.  As Lois Winston said, “I always trash them and empty my trash immediately.” And while we all understand that the end goal is always money, many of us are puzzled by their low-pressure techniques.  Why do you want me to tell you where to leave a review?  Why are you wasting my time telling me that you love my work, but don’t want to leave a review without permission.  No one in the history of reviews has ever had this worry.

Screencap of a spam email with the words "AI has ruined my spam" over the top

So What Does the Spam Look Like?

Here are just a smattering of examples that I and other members of the Stiletto Gang have received:

Example 1: I can help you!

“I recently came across Eye Contact and it’s a gripping contemporary novel that blends science, mystery, and authentic representation. Following Lexi Byrne, a neurodivergent graduate student developing cutting edge bionic eye technology, the story explores her challenges with relationships, friendship, and ethics, all while navigating a high-stakes theft that puts her work and loved ones at risk. With its mix of science driven intrigue, relatable character dynamics, and emotional depth, Eye Contact has strong discovery potential through Goodreads Listopia lists such as Mystery & Thriller, Contemporary Fiction, Science & Technology Fiction, and Neurodivergent Protagonists.”

TRANSLATION: They want me to pay to get my book on a list on Goodreads which is something I can do for free.  (And if they made you interested in Eye Contact – you can check it out on Amazon and all major retailers.)

Example 2: We’re big & famous, so of course we’re emailing YOU!

“At Simon & Schuster, we are committed to publishing fiction that resonates with readers while delivering a strong and memorable narrative experience. Based on what I’ve read, I would be very interested in exploring whether there might be an opportunity to work together.”

“As one of the most influential literary platforms globally, The New York Times Book Review reaches a vast and engaged readership of book lovers, critics, publishers, and industry professionals… If you are interested, kindly respond by [date], and I will provide the next steps and scheduling options.” (Thanks to Judy Penz Sheluk for this gem!)

TRANSLATION: We’re going to ask for money to include you in this very special offer.  But pro-tip: Simon & Schuster doesn’t use Yahoo email accounts and the NY Times Book Review doesn’t solicit out of print books or forget to include the [date].

Example 3: Visit Our Book Club for Free!

“How are you doing ? I’m reaching out because of how strongly your book has resonated with readers in our community. As we read and discussed it together, one thing became very clear to us. This is a story that was written to be felt, reflected on, discussed, and shared, not simply read and put aside.”

“Readers will enjoy dissecting the layers of suspense, from the stolen SUV with a dead body to the cache of jewelry and the ongoing threats Anastasia faces, while also appreciating the lighthearted elements that make the series so engaging.” (Kind of makes you want to read the Anastasia Pollack mysteries, doesn’t it? Learn more at LoisWinston.com)

“Based on your catalog, I would be very interested to know which of your books you feel would create the most compelling and thought-provoking discussion among a community of dedicated readers like ours. Would you be open to having one of your preferred titles considered for this upcoming Networx London – Connect & Grow feature and allowing our members to explore and discuss it together?”

TRANSLATION: We failed to realize that we’re emailing about the third book in a mystery series but we’re going to talk about how it’s SO IMPACTFUL and later probably ask you to pay for the venue on a virtual book club.

Example 4: Authors like other authors, right?

“I recently came across your work, and I was really struck by the honesty in your storytelling and the way you blend personal experience with universal truth. As a fellow author, I deeply appreciate writing that challenges and moves readers the way yours does. I just wanted to reach out to say how much I admired your work. It’s inspiring to see writing that’s both fearless and artful.”

TRANSLATION: I’m looking for someone who has too much time on their hands and will email me back which means they’re probably a sucker.

Example 5: Errors Detected!

“I spotted a few issues that could be impacting your website’s performance. I captured screenshots for clarity. Reply “OK – SEND” if you’d like to see them.”

TRANSLATION: We know you’re a creative and don’t know much about websites and we’re depending on that to bilk you out of money (oh, and also… click on this link).

Spam for All

I think for many of us in the writing community, the new downpour of spam is shocking.  Perhaps there are other groups who are being similarly targeted now that new tools are available, but this seems like a new development in the scammer landscape.  And the truth is that I’m not falling for anymore scams now than I used to, but now I have to have someone blowing smoke up my skirt while I delete them. It’s infuriating. How about you?  Are you seeing a new rise in of junk mail and in your inbox?  And do you find the insincere adulation as annoying as I do?

**

Bethany Maines drinks from an arsenic mugBethany Maines is the award-winning author of action-adventure and fantasy tales that focus on women who know when to apply lipstick and when to apply a foot to someone’s hind end. She participates in many activities, including swearing, karate, art, and yelling at the news. She can usually be found chasing after her daughter or glued to the computer working on her next novel (or screenplay). You can also catch up with her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and BookBub.  She has also writes under the pen name Sirena Corbeau for spicier paranormal romance novels. Learn more at: bethanymaines.com or sirenacorbeau.com 

See more books from the Stiletto Gang: BOOKS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kathleen Kaska

The Anthropomorphizing of an Octopus

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The Anthropomorphizing of an Octopus

I just finished reading Shelby Van Pelt’s delightful novel, Remarkably Bright Creatures. Van Pelt tells the story of an octopus named Marsellus who lived in an aquarium and befriended the elderly nighttime cleaning lady. Several chapters are written from Marcellus’ point of view. It is an excellent example of anthropomorphizing, the attribution of human form, personality, or emotions to something nonhuman.

This book brought back a lot of memories. My degree is in physical anthropology. I’ve only met two other people who also hold this degree. True, it’s not easy to find a job in this field, but I loved the coursework. When people hear the word anthropology, they think of the study of the development of human societies, cultures, languages, and social organization. They think of Margaret Mead. That is cultural anthropology. Physical anthropology is the scientific study of human biology, evolution, genetics, and variation, both past and present. It was a perfect field for me because I love these scientific fields. I could read a biology text as if it were a compelling novel.

One of my college courses was primate behavior. I was assigned to work with a professor who was studying vervet monkeys to compare their behavior with that of humans. My lab work involved observing and documenting monkey behavior, and I was instructed not to anthropomorphize, just to record their activity. Each monkey was assigned a number. My documentation went like this:

  • Number 1 ran up to number 6 and slapped it, then ran away. It was hard not to anthropomorphize and accuse number 6 of being a bully.
  • Number 18 stole number 4’s banana. Number 4 bit number 18 on the ear. I couldn’t report that number 4 retaliated by biting number 18’s ear.
  • Number 7 is sitting in the corner, nipping at any monkey who comes by. It was hard not to believe that number 7 was having a bad day or feeling sad for some reason.
  • Numbers 14 and 10 were inseparable. I couldn’t report that 14 and 10 were friends.

Needless to say, the class was the highlight of my day. Years later, I taught life science to middle school students. Watching those active preteens, I was often reminded of the vervet monkey I studied. Their behavior was not that different. My teaching curriculum covered the classification and taxonomy of living things, as well as evolution, so my degree proved useful. One of my lessons focused on the octopus, the most intelligent invertebrate. Other members of the invertebrate group include insects, spiders, clams, oysters, corals, and earthworms. Intelligence is not typically associated with these animals. It involves learning, problem-solving, and a higher level of understanding—traits usually attributed to vertebrates, animals with backbones. However, many studies have shown that octopuses can solve problems, remember, and respond to different situations; in other words, they demonstrate a higher level of thinking. I believe the octopus is a bridge species, and if evolution continues, it might eventually develop a backbone and join the class shared by other backboned animals.

Marcellus, in Van Pelt’s book, figured out how to escape his tank, roam the aquarium at night, and dine on his fellow captives: sea cucumbers, mussels, clams, and more. He could open locked cages, read, and respond to people’s emotions.

How often do we anthropomorphize? For example, saying your dog’s feelings were hurt when you stopped throwing him the ball, or that your cat shredded your drapes because you bought her the wrong cat food. The humanizing of animals appears in many children’s books and adult novels. Think of all the cozy mystery series featuring animals as the protagonists: Spencer Quinn’s Chet (a dog) and Bernie (his human) make up the Little Detective Agency series, all of which I’ve read. The stories are told entirely from Chet’s point of view. There’s also The Cat Who series by Lillian Jackson Braun, Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs. Murphy series featuring a cat and a Corgi, and The No. 2 Feline Detective Agency by Mandy Morton. I remember a Martha Grimes mystery, The Grave Maurice, where a horse’s point of view adds a touching depth to the story that a human character couldn’t express.

What about writing a series with an octopus as the detective? I could call it the Tentacle Tales series. I’ll add it to my very long list of projects to write, but if you beat me to it, that’s okay. I know I’ll read it.

Do you ever anthropomorphize in your writing?

Check out my Sydney Lockhart mysteries and my Kate Caraway Animal-Rights mysteries: Kathleen Kaska’s Books

Life in the Cracks

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I had an entirely different topic planned for today’s post until I learned that this date marks a celebration of “life in the cracks” for at least one community in California. I think it’s actually something we all should celebrate, especially these days.

It’s the Festival of Life-in-the-Cracks Day!

Time to celebrate the first signs of Spring that bring us fresh crops, fuzzy little ducklings, and even sprouts of greenery that rise up through our cracked sidewalks.

It is a day to celebrate rebirth and renewal, a day to appreciate the beauty of life anywhere you find it.

There’s something about new greenery popping up and out all around us that offers us a mental boost. Given the current state of the world, we could use a reminder to celebrate life. No matter how bleak the outlook, here comes Spring to remind us that things can change for the better.

Here comes the time to plant seeds, stroll through the woods, or simply bask in the sun.

In our park’s family garden, spring has definitely sprung. Cabbage, okra, tomatoes, figs, and apple blossoms abound.

Bees are buzzing, flowers blooming, and crops are bursting with life. Just to be surrounded by it all can lift our spirits.

With the world in turmoil, I can’t think of a more timely celebration than Life-in-the-Cracks Day. It calls to mind the encouraging message in Leonard Cohen’s beautiful Anthem which shares the wisdom that—even when life feels like there’s a crack in everything—remember this: it’s how the light gets in.

I’m no Pollyanna, but I am so very, very eager to mute the bad news and turn myself toward hopeful things right now. Here’s to a bright, refreshing Spring for us all!

How about you, friends and readers… Are you ready for a brighter day?

Gay Yellen’s award-winning writing career began in magazine journalism.  She later served as the contributing editor for the international thriller, Five Minutes to Midnight (Delacorte), which debuted as a New York Times “New & Notable.”

The Samantha Newman Mystery Series is packed with suspense and full of romance, heart, and humor. Available on Amazon or order through your favorite bookseller. 

 

book cover for Risky Biscuits

Judging a Book by Its Title

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book cover for Risky Biscuits

We often get asked about our book titles and we do have some fun with them. The Sparkle Abbey books sport titles such as “The Girl with the Dachshund Tattoo” and “Fifty Shades of Greyhound” and the Mary Lee Ashford books, “Game of Scones” and “Risky Biscuits.” As with most traditionally published authors, we had no guarantee that the publisher would keep the titles we’d created but in almost all cases they did.

Still, in this new world of hybrid publishing and ever more complicated methods of discoverability, we got to wondering about how much impact a title has for readers in finding the books they like to read.

Over time there have been different trends such as the X Y format – two word titles – “Demon Copperhead,” “The Maid” or “Gone Girl.” And then there’s the really long book titles. For example: “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” or a children’s favorite of ours, “Alexander’s Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day.” Or the lovely, “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe.” There also seem to be some new trends with cross-genre type titles and a surge of retro-sounding titles. Though some of these are specific to particular type of books or sub-genres, most seem to cross the lines.

And as with all things in the publishing world, title trends are ever changing. So we’d love to hear your thoughts.

 

Do particular types of titles appeal to you? And how much impact does the title of a book have on whether you would buy it or maybe at least stop to take another look? 

sparkle and abbey

Sparkle Abbey is actually two people, Mary Lee Ashford and Anita Carter, who write the national best-selling Pampered Pets cozy mystery series.

They are friends as well as neighbors so they often get together and plot ways to commit murder. (But don’t tell the other neighbors.)

They love to hear from readers and can be found on social media or contacted via their websites:

Sparkle Abbey: Facebook  Website

Mary Lee Ashford: Facebook  Instagram  Website

Going Home

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By Leslie Wheeler

Three years after our parents died, my sister and I finally sold our childhood home. Giving up a place with so many happy memories was hard, but I believed we had to do it. Houses are meant to be lived in, and neither my sister, nor I, nor our children wanted to move in.

When I drove away, I didn’t know if I’d ever return. But I did in my dreams, shortly after I left. In those dreams, my parents were still alive and living in the house, though even in the dream world, I knew they were dead and shouldn’t be there. I realized that even more than my parents’ deaths, the sale of the house marked the end of my childhood and that made me sad.

Fast forward to the present day, and I revisited the house under happier circumstances when I used it in my mystery novel, Wildcat Academy. In the book, the main character, Kathryn Stinson, was born and raised in Southern California, as I was, but now lives in New England, as I do and have for many years. She returns to California to attend the funeral of a family member and stays at the house where her mother, who has remarried, now lives.

I went on the plane with Kathryn and shared her alarm when turbulence shook the plane, making it seem like “a paper airplane caught in a twister.” Fortunately, we landed safely at the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX), as I had so many times in the past on trips to visit my parents after I’d moved away. Like Kathryn, I was overwhelmed by the maze of interconnecting freeways that had to be navigated to arrive at our destination. But finally, we reached the house in Pasadena, “a rambling, mid-century ranch with shingles and lots of glass windows and doors” on a hill overlooking the Arroyo Seco and the Rose Bowl with the purple-tinged San Gabriel Mountains in the background.

Kathryn and I sat in lounge chairs by the kidney-shaped swimming pool, catching the last rays of the sun. Later, we had dinner with her family on the patio, and went to bed soon afterward, because we were both tired from the trip. But we both woke up at the witching hour of three in the morning. And since neither of us could get back to sleep, we tiptoed down the long, dark hall from the bedroom area to the kitchen with a flashlight to guide us, like thieves in the night.

In the kitchen, we made ourselves mugs of hot milk laced with molasses. This was an old family remedy for sleeplessness, which I still resort to, though without the molasses. And there in the kitchen, to our surprise, Kathryn’s mother joined us and she and her mother had a long overdue heart-to-heart talk. It was the kind of talk I wished I’d had with my own mother but never did. Still, I was glad Kathryn and her mother were able to share their innermost thoughts and feelings.

Kathryn and I stayed at the house for two more days. Most of our time was spent preparing for the funeral, but we still managed to take a walk in the neighborhood up Linda Vista Avenue past the fire station, then the large white building with a red brick roof where I’d gone to elementary school, and finally the small flat-roofed structure that housed the Linda Vista Public Library, which I’d frequented when in school.

When it was time to leave, I felt a twinge of regret, but mostly I was glad for the opportunity to revisit my childhood home and the surrounding area. I lived every moment of the visit intensely as I was writing it, and even now as I’m reading this, I’m smiling.

Readers, have you gone ever back to your childhood home or some another place that was important to you in dreams or fiction? If so, what was it like?

Wildcat Academy

A Berkshire Hilltown Mystery, Book 4

When Boston library curator Kathryn Stinson visits the Berkshires with her mother and other family, she doesn’t expect trouble. But that’s what happens when her stepsister’s teenage son, a student at a private academy, is found dead beneath a zipline—a device he feared. As suspicions swirl around his death, Kathryn is drawn into a tense search for the truth. Was it a tragic accident, or something more sinister? With resistance from the academy and locals alike, she must navigate family dynamics and hidden tensions to uncover secrets that some will do anything to protect.

Buy Links

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An award-winning author of books about American history and biographies, Leslie Wheeler has written two mystery series, the Berkshire Hilltown Mysteries and the Miranda Lewis series. Her mystery short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, including The Best New England Crime Stories series, published by Crime Spell Books, where she is a co-editor/publisher. Leslie is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, serving as Speakers Bureau Coordinator for the New England Chapter of SinC. She divides her time between Cambridge, Massachusetts, and the Berkshires, where she writes in a house overlooking a pond.

Kathleen Kaska

Treasure Hunt: A True-Life Indiana Jones Saga

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Treasure Hunt: 

A True-Life Indiana Jones Saga

When you hear the phrase treasure hunt, you might imagine a chest of gold or a legendary artifact. But what if the treasure was a bird—and the hunter an ornithologist?

In the mid-1990s, I joined a field trip to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge on the Texas coast to see the endangered whooping crane. That experience changed my life. I became captivated by the crane’s story—and by the man who saved it from extinction. That fascination grew into a seven-year research journey and ultimately my book, The Man Who Saved the Whooping Crane: The Robert Porter Allen Story.

In the spring of 1941, the whooping crane population had dropped to just fifteen birds. Written off as doomed, the species survived because one man refused to accept extinction as inevitable. Robert Porter Allen, an ornithologist with the National Audubon Society, launched a conservation campaign unlike anything America had seen before.

Long before television or the internet, Allen ignited a nationwide media blitz. Posters flooded public schools. Children wrote letters to lawmakers. Radio stations tracked the cranes’ migration from their winter home near Austwell, Texas, to a mysterious nesting site somewhere in Canada. Life magazine published a rare photo of a whooping crane family, and even an oil company altered its operations to avoid disturbing the birds.

By 1947, fewer than thirty cranes remained. Their nesting grounds—hidden somewhere in northern Saskatchewan, possibly near the Arctic Circle—had never been found. Without protecting that site, the species would vanish. After two failed searches, Audubon turned to its most tenacious ornithologist: Robert Porter Allen, newly returned from World War II.

What followed was a real-life treasure hunt—one that helped save a species and changed the course of conservation history, ultimately paving the way for the Endangered Species Act.

The story of Robert Porter Allen is best described as Indiana Jones meets John James Audubon—and it remains one of the most inspiring conservation adventures ever told.

I wrote the book to pay homage to a man who was all but forgotten. My research led me on my own journey from Texas to Florida to Wisconsin and beyond in an adventure I like to call “On the Trail of a Vanishing Ornithologist.”

Excerpt:

It was April 17, 1948, in the early hours of a muggy Texas morning on the Gulf Coast. The sun at last burned away the thick fog that had settled over Blackjack Peninsula. The world’s last flock of wild whooping cranes had spent the winter feeding on blue crab and killifish in the vast salt flats they called home. During the night, all three members of the Slough Family had moved to higher ground about two miles away from their usual haunt to feed. The cool, crisp winter was giving way to a warm, balmy spring. The days were growing longer, and territorial boundaries were no longer defended. Restlessness had spread throughout the flock. 

            As Robert Porter Allen drove along East Shore Road near Carlos Field in his government-issued beat-to-hell pickup, he spotted the four cranes now spiraling a thousand feet above the marsh. He pulled his truck over to the roadside and watched, hoping to witness, for the first time, a migration takeoff. One adult crane pulled away from the family and flew northward, whooping as it rose on an air current. When the others lagged behind, the crane returned, the family regrouped, circled a few times, and landed in the cordgrass in the shallows of San Antonio Bay. It was Allen’s second year at the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge. He had learned to read the nuances of his subjects almost as well as they read the changing of the seasons.

            In the days preceding, twenty-four cranes departed for their summer home somewhere in Western Canada, possibly as far north as the Arctic Circle. This annual event, which had occurred for at least 10,000 years, might be one of the last unless Allen could accomplish what no one else had.         

            The next morning, when Allen parked his truck near Mullet Bay, the Slough Family was gone, having departed sometime during the night. That afternoon, he threw his gear into the back of his station wagon and followed.

The Man Who Saved the Whooping Crane was published by the University Press of Florida in 2012. It’s still available in bookstores upon request, Amazon,  Barnes & Noble, and University Press of Florida. It’s also from my website: Kathleen Kaska

Contact me at kathleenkaska@hotmail.com for information on my presentation of The Man Who Saved the Whooping Crane: The Robert Porter Allen Story

Donnell Ann Bell

Reading: The Panacea for What Ails Me

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By Donnell Ann Bell

When my children were small, I’d plop one kid on my left side, the other on my right, and open a book. I’d read one page, hand it off to the one on the left and say, “Your turn.”

My daughter would read one page and hand it back to me. I’d read the following page, then hand it off to my son, and the ritual continued.

Over the 2025 Christmas holiday, I was reminded of this special time when I learned the tradition continued. My son and daughter-in-law take turns reading to their children every night before bed.

Reading is the gateway that makes all other learning possible.

Already at age nine, my granddaughter has read nine of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. “Grammy,” she asked, “Do you want to hear me read?”

Nothing would please me more, so I answered, “Of course.”

Not to be outdone, her brother, age seven, cut in, “Grammy, do you want to hear me read?”

“Love to,” I responded immediately.

My grandchildren’s elementary school hosts reading challenges, and clearly the competition is working. When I learned my granddaughter was reading C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I reread it so I could discuss it with her.

On this trip, I listened to her read chapters from The Curious Tale of the In Between by Lauren DeStefano, which I found to be an amazing middle grade book. While she stumbled over some of the bigger words, when that happened, we paused and discussed their meanings.

It was such an important, joyous time for me. I can’t think of a better bonding scenario.

For the past few months, I’ve been busy updating my books to become a hybrid author. What I thought would be tedious has turned into a fun opportunity for me to correct, tighten, and the best part is, I get to reconnect with my characters.

Periodically, Stiletto Gang member and critique partner Lois Winston asks if I have time to read a few chapters or even the rest of an edited book before she publishes. In no way is reading her work a sacrifice. I love to spend time with her reluctant amateur sleuth and the rest of her zany New Jersey crew. 😊

I certainly can’t read while I’m driving, so I turn to audio books. During a recent trip to Colorado, I listened to John Grisham’s The Widow.  Audio books make long car trips fly by!

Back to the recent 2025 holiday, not everything was perfect. Christmas afternoon, I came down with the flu, which sadly cut my family visit short. The bug lasted well into New Year’s, forcing me to reschedule my planned company for New Year’s.

Don’t feel too sorry for me, though. In between sleeping I spent the time reading. Whether I’m healthy, sick or simply in need of escape, I turn to reading. It’s the panacea for what ails me.

Glad to be back, Stiletto Gang. Wishing everyone a happy and productive 2026!! By the way, what are you reading?

Donnell Ann Bell is an award-winning author who began her nonfiction career in newspapers. After she turned to fiction, her romantic suspense novels became Amazon bestsellers, including The Past Came Hunting, Deadly Recall, Betrayed, and Buried Agendas. In 2019, Donnell released her first mainstream suspense, Black Pearl, A Cold Case Suspense, which was a 2020 Colorado Book Award finalist. In 2022, book two of the series was released. Until Dead, A Cold Case Suspense won Best Thriller in 2023 at the Imaginarium Conference in Louisville, Kentucky. Currently, she’s working on book three of the series. Readers can follow Donnell on her blog or sign up for her newsletter at www.donnellannbell.net.

 

Dead, but Not Forgotten

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Galvez Hotel

Galvez Hotel

Dead, but Not Forgotten:

Murder at the Galvez

When asked whether I use real people as inspiration for my stories, I tell folks that there are so many imaginary characters in my head vying for my attention that I don’t need inspiration from a real person. Except—there’s always an exception—right?

When I started writing MURDER AT THE GALVEZ, the third mystery in my Sydney Lockhart series set in Galveston, Texas, I used a real person in the first paragraph merely to jump-start the story.

My husband is from Galveston, and his grandfather, PoPo, who was the doorman at the Tremont Hotel, always had a pack of teaberry gum in his pocket. I’d never met him, but I couldn’t help but wonder what life as a doorman at a fancy hotel would be like. (Note: before I chose the Galvez Hotel for the book, I’d planned to set the mystery in the Tremont Hotel until I learned it was temporarily closed during the time the story takes place.) Thus, I gave PoPo the name James Robert Lockhart, made him the doorman at the Galvez Hotel, and Sydney’s grandfather.

As in all my Sydney Lockhart mysteries, Sydney checks into a hotel, someone is murdered, and she’s the primary suspect. I needed a reason for Sydney to be at the hotel, and what better reason than to visit her grandfather? But wait, he’d already passed away, so to bring him into the story, I have Sydney reminisce about the last time she saw him, when she was eleven.

When I was little, I used to run up the hotel’s front steps, and PoPo would say, “Let me get the door for you, ma’am.” He’d bow and open the door with a flourish. As I passed, he’d say, “Welcome to the Galvez, Miss Lockhart. Enjoy your stay.” I would lift my chin like a queen. Then I’d reach into his coat pocket and pull out a pack of Teaberry chewing gum.—Sydney Lockhart

Having Sydney reminisce wasn’t enough, so I had to develop this character and give him more purpose, which led to Sydney’s last visit with him being a traumatic experience.

In the 1940s and 1950s, Galveston was a rough-and-tumble gambling town that earned the title “Sin City of the Southwest.” A few powerful crime families operated illegal casinos, speakeasies, and backroom bookie joints that attracted tourists and celebrities. A hotel doorman would surely have inside information and connections to these establishments and operations. With this in mind, James Robert Lockhart began to develop.

Whenever my family came to the island for a visit, I’d make a beeline to the Galvez Hotel and stand next to Popo while he greeted guests. People who saw us together knew instantly that I was his granddaughter. We were cut from the same mold: tall, thin, and redheaded. I was proud of that fact, for James Robert Lockhart was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. When I found him crumpled on the floor in the hotel foyer, his body riddled with bullet holes, I knew my life would never be the same. Now, as I stepped into the lobby eighteen years later, the memory of that day hit me square in the gut.—Sydney Lockhart

Sydney had no intention of ever setting foot in the hotel again, but when she was assigned to write a news story about a planning conference at the Galvez involving a controversial development project on the island, she had to suck it up and go. As always, someone was murdered, but what if this murder was connected to the murder of James Robert Lockhart? Now I was building him a backstory in which Sydney suspected her grandfather wasn’t who he seemed. Soon she realized that clearing herself of murder charges meant delving deeper into her grandfather’s history.

One thing led to another, and Lockhart skeletons began jumping out of closets too close to home. So, was James Robert Lockhart a notorious con artist or someone who always did the right thing, regardless of the consequences? Either way, Sydney had to find out, and so did I.

Since then, Sydney has shared with me a few survival skills she learned from her grandfather: how to hotwire a car, pick a lock with a bobby pin, and win at five-card draw. Dead, but not forgotten, Popo’s influence and teaching made Sydney who she is.

PoPo had an unquenchable fascination with the wonders of life and had steered me toward more practical directions. He taught me to appreciate the creatures that washed ashore after high tide, the majesty of constellations as they traveled across the sky, and flocks of birds that descended on the beach after fleeing an offshore storm. He even took me on my first Christmas bird count.—Sydney Lockhart/MURDER AT THE MENGER

I’m sure the real PoPo was the benevolent grandfather my husband remembered, and if PoPo is reading this from upstairs, I hope he’s smiling down on me.

Look for my seventh Sydney Lockhart mystery, where PoPo’s lessons save Sydney’s tush once again. It’s scheduled for release in spring 2026. The hotel, and hence the title, remains a secret until pre-lease. Check out my other Sydney mysteries: https://kathleenkaska.com/

An Unexpected Gift

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My sister-in-law is a dynamo in a tiny package — an opera singer, actress, clown, energy healer, and animal lover. Lately, she’s been concerned that my elderly dog Teagan is overdoing therapy dog work.

True, together Teagan and I have done more than 200 visits to hospitals, courts, police departments, and even the King Soopers grocery store in the aftermath of the shooting. That’s a lot of draining emotional contact for both of us. If I thought Teagan didn’t enjoy the work, she’d retire, but she barks, dances in circles, and beats me to the car when I bring out the working vest she wears on visits (called a cape).

This year my SIL gave me a surprise for Christmas—a session with an animal communicator. She knew the communicator, a woman in Denver, and wanted to be certain Teagan wasn’t getting ill from any negative energy or emotions picked up during therapy visits.

I expected the communicator to talk in generalities or say things my SIL may have told her about my dog. I was even more skeptical when I learned the session could be done remotely over the phone based only on Teagan’s picture.

I dove into the session with some questions I’d prepared.

What was Teagan’s favorite toy? A little brown stuffed animal she calls Baby.

Okay. Good guess. Teagan does have a little brown moose she loves, but that’s a pretty common type of dog toy.

Who’s Teagan’s favorite parent? Your husband.

What!? That’s a question I never should have asked (LOL). But I’m the one who gives Teagan pills, injections, trims her nails, and performs all sorts of other unpleasantries whereas my husband rolls around the floor wrestling with her. Again, a good guess.

I shared that Teagan is allergic to chicken.

What food should I feed her? Definitely no fowl.

Of course not. I didn’t need the communicator to tell me that. I checked my watch. How much longer was this session?

Then the communicator continued: Try other proteins like beef, pork, and . . . hmmm . . . this can’t be right . . . kangaroo? Where did that come from all of a sudden?

Interesting. We’d recently tried a novel protein Teagan loved, which was — you guessed it — canned kangaroo. No way my SIL could have known that tidbit.

Okay, now I decided to throw the communicator a question from left field.

Was Teagan reincarnated? Turns out, Teagan never was a wild animal, and most of her past lives were as a human. Most vividly, the communicator saw Teagan in a small 18th century village as a midwife or healer, wearing a cape.

Whoa. Stop right there. A healer? Wearing a cape? Therapy dogs were known healers, but no way anyone outside the hospital therapy dog world called the dog vests “capes.”

At that point, the communicator had my complete attention, so I asked about Teagan’s health. After a few minutes, the communicator told me: Watch her liver.

Her liver? Teagan’s last blood work had shown slightly elevated liver values. No one other than the vet and my husband knew that.

Anything else about her health? Her left hip.

That’s odd. Teagan’s right hind leg sometimes gave her trouble, not her left one. I made a note to ask the vet on her next exam.

And, at the exam, the week before Christmas, the vet found a cancerous mast cell tumor on Teagan’s left hip. Since we’d caught the tumor so early, it hadn’t metastasized and was small enough to be cleanly removed.

Thanks to my sister-in-law and an animal communicator for the best gift ever.

Now I’m an openminded person. Do I believe? Well, I certainly don’t disbelieve. How about you?