I Failed a Lie Detector Test

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I’ve confessed this to only a couple of people, but I’m now making it public: I failed a lie detector lie detector (polygraph) test.

This happened in the early ’80s, when I was young and naïve—long before I began writing crime fiction. Back then, I believed lie detector tests were infallible. When I failed, I didn’t just feel embarrassed—I questioned my own sanity. Was I a chronic liar and didn’t know it?

Years later, as a mystery writer, I know better.

It started when a friend asked me to bartend Sunday nights at a pricey hotel in downtown Austin. Someone had quit without notice, and he was in a bind. I’d bartended in college, so I agreed to help.

There was just one catch: new employees had to take a lie detector test.

No problem, I thought. It might even be interesting.

It was—but not in the way I expected.

I was sent to a private company across town. My internal alarms went off the moment I saw the man who would administer the test. “Creepy” is putting it mildly. He had greasy, dyed-black hair, dirt under his fingernails, and a stained dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down, exposing a thicket of chest hair. Cheap rings crowded his fingers.

At the time, I didn’t yet have the instincts of a crime writer—but I had enough sense to feel uneasy.

When he took my hand to attach the sensors, I shivered.

The questions began.

Had I ever stolen from an employer? No.
Had I ever been convicted of a crime? No.
Had I ever taken illegal drugs? No.

Then he lingered on the drug question, circling back again and again, rephrasing it each time. Today, I’d recognize that tactic immediately—pressure the subject, unsettle them, look for physiological spikes. But at the time, I was simply confused.

Finally, he asked if I was currently using drugs. I said I’d recently taken antibiotics and occasionally used Motrin.

He moved on, then returned to the same line of questioning.

If I were writing this scene today, I’d have my detective note the repetition, the shifting language, the way the examiner controlled the rhythm of the interrogation. I’d build tension there—because that’s where it lives.

But back then, I was just irritated—and certain of one thing: I had told the truth.

The following Sunday, as I was getting ready for work, my friend called.

I had failed the test.

If this were fiction, that would be the inciting incident—the moment everything tilts. The innocent protagonist accused. The system revealed as flawed. The first crack in what’s supposed to be objective truth.

My friend told me not to worry, said I could come to work anyway, maybe even retake it later.

I told him not to bother. I wasn’t coming back.

Years later, after writing crime novels and researching investigative techniques, I learned what I wish I’d known then: lie detector tests don’t always detect lies. They detect stress.

And stress can come from many places:

  • Anxiety
  • Fatigue or illness
  • Medication
  • Confusing or manipulative questioning
  • Even the examiner’s own bias

In other words, the very conditions designed to “find the truth” can distort it.

That realization changed the way I think about interrogation scenes. In fiction, a lie detector can be a powerful tool—but not because it reveals truth. Because it reveals vulnerability. Because it can be wrong.

And wrong can be dangerous.

I recently discovered that lie detector tests were actively used in courtrooms in the 1950s—the world of my Sydney Lockhart mysteries. Which raises a delicious possibility.

What happens when Sydney—sharp, observant, and far less naïve than I was—is strapped into that chair? When she knows the machine is flawed, but the people watching believe it isn’t?

That’s not just a test.

That’s a setup.

And in crime fiction, setups are where the real story begins. I can’t wait to put Sydney in this uncomfortable situation and then watch her wiggle out of it. She’d do a much better job than her creator.

Have you ever been falsely accused?

 

Believe in your Story and Never Give Up

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By Donnell Ann Bell

I do not consider myself a vain person. Uncertainty follows me on a daily basis. And like most authors insecurity has me on speed dial. But if I write something that corresponds with the vision in my head, then I develop a strong belief in my project. It doesn’t happen with every manuscript. I have a drawerful of attempted projects that haven’t quite measured up.

My debut book, however, the unpublished title Walk Away Joe, earned me a Golden Heart nod and agent representation. Afterward, I set to work on book two. Based on the plot, the title Deadly Recall came to me almost immediately. The story was a romantic suspense spinning off from my elementary Catholic school days and my court reporting legal experience.

The characters in Deadly Recall came to me equally fast. I was so confident in that book, I almost ignored the advice offered by Donald Maass, renowned literary agent and author of Writing the Breakout Novel. I attended a seminar in which Maass warned writers that if they knew who the killer was throughout the book, the reader would too.

What did he know? I remained steadfast in my belief I’d chosen the right antagonist for my story. Yet as my page count increased, reality intruded on my pipedream. I was a brand-new author; Donald Maass was an expert. I remember the precise moment I flipped the script and changed my killer’s identity. It was near the end of the book. To this day, I credit Donald Maass’s advice. Thanks to him Deadly Recall became a more cohesive and suspenseful story.

After I finished the novel, I entered writing contests but didn’t send it to my agent just yet. She hadn’t sold Walk Away Joe, and if Deadly Recall did well, I hoped to convince her I wasn’t a “one-book wonder.” Deadly Recall won several contests, one of which included agents and editors as the final round judges. I confess my head was the size of a pinata when one contest coordinator wrote, “This is so good. Can’t wait to see it in print.”

I was still flying high until weeks later I opened my entry to learn I’d received an honorable mention. Obviously, my writing peer judges liked the story, New York professionals, not so much. Needless to say, I was disheartened. Still, I believed in that book. So, when a well-known editor from a respected house announced she was accepting on-line pitches, I participated. Her response to my pitch? “Nice idea. But Catholic stories don’t sell. Put it under your bed and never get it out again.”

I don’t have to tell you that left a mark! At the same time, I was smarting from that rejection, my agent wrote me about Deadly Recall. She said she’d shared the book with her team, and they all agreed with her that it “wasn’t my best work.” At that, I sent her a 30-day termination notice and cancelled our agency agreement.

Along with the Deadly Recall rejections I was receiving, I was still hopeful for Walk Away Joe. At a writer’s conference, I pitched the book to an acquiring editor of a major house, and she asked me to send it. I sent it, knowing I was engaging in a proverbial longshot as New York publishers rarely, if ever, accepted unagented submissions.

About this time, RWA’s 2010 Golden Heart calls went out, and I was both happy and stunned to learn that Deadly Recall was a finalist in the organization’s largest and most respected contest. This was my second Golden Heart final, so some (not all) of my confidence was restored as I felt it gave me some street creds.

A short time later, I queried BelleBooks/Bell Bridge Books about Walk Away Joe and Vice President Deborah Smith wrote me back saying, “Send it. Send Deadly Recall while you’re at it.” I’ll never forget when BelleBooks sent me an offer letter for both books. I had huge respect for Debra Dixon and Deborah Smith, both legends in publishing, and decided to accept. As a courtesy I wrote the New York editor with whom I’d submitted Walk Away Joe. All my rejection bruises seemed to fade when she wrote back, “Congratulations. This is our loss. I love Melanie and Joe.” FYI, Melanie and Joe are characters from the WAJ manuscript that BelleBooks/Bell Bridge Books subsequently renamed The Past Came Hunting.

In the early days of my publishing career, Amazon, had a marketing tool called Deal of the Day on Kindle. Both The Past Came Hunting and Deadly Recall hit the top ten of the overall paid deals. I was on my way to Santa Fe when Deborah Smith messaged me to tell me Deadly Recall had hit #1 in the overall paid category! For a brief time, my book was listed alongside John Grisham and Clive Custler. Typically, I couldn’t get a signal to capture a screen shot but did manage one a couple days later in which the book still held the #1 spot in three genre categories.

I tell you this long drawn-out story to remind you that while others may not believe in your work, if you’re passionate about it, never give up. Deadly Recall remains my bestselling book. Imagine if I had done what that editor suggested and put it under my bed. Deadly Recall is one of the books in The Stiletto Gang’s Summer Bonanza. The log line is: A terrifying memory is locked deep inside her. A Killer wants to keep it that way. https://donnellannbell.net/books/romantic-suspense-thrillers/deadly-recall/   Now that you know its history, I hope you’ll give it a try. And remember this business is subjective. Whatever you’re passionate about, it’s important to believe!  Happy Reading!

 

“Just One More Thing”

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When you hear the phrase “just one more thing,” what comes to mind? If you were around in the 1970s, you probably remember Columbo, starring Peter Falk as Lieutenant Columbo of the Los Angeles Police Department. The series won 22 awards and received 68 nominations, with Falk earning four Primetime Emmy Awards. It aired on NBC from 1971 to 1978 and has since been rebroadcast on numerous networks.

What I liked most about the show was its structure: viewers knew the killer from the start and then watched Columbo patiently unravel the crime. Each episode featured a guest star as the murderer—Martin Landau, Janet Leigh, Ruth Gordon, Vincent Price, Roddy McDowall, Leonard Nimoy, even Johnny Cash, to name a few.

I recently rediscovered the series after making a practical—if slightly risky—decision: changing hairdressers after fifteen years. When I learned my husband’s barber had begun cutting women’s hair for less than half what I’d been paying, I decided to give her a try. I only needed a trim—no shampoo, no styling. The first visit took less than ten minutes, and I was pleased with the result.

On my most recent visit, I didn’t have an appointment. Four people were ahead of me, and I thought about leaving—until I noticed the television was tuned to Columbo. I stayed. The episode featured Ricardo Montalban as a matador in “A Matter of Honor.”

When Columbo arrives on a scene—hair rumpled, trench coat wrinkled, cigar in hand—he’s easy to underestimate. His suspects dismiss him as absentminded, even inept. But his polite, seemingly scattered questions are deliberate. Columbo is a meticulous strategist, noting every clue and quietly assembling the truth. He wears his suspects down with persistence, circling back again and again until—almost as an afterthought—he says, “Just one more thing.”

Alfred Hitchcock also used this technique in his movies Rope, Dial M for Murder, A Shadow of a Doubt, and Frenzy. His forte was suspense rather than surprise. The audience knows what happened as they watch the story unfold. Suspense builds tension, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats as they participate in solving the crime.

Back to my barber. I waited nearly an hour that day and didn’t mind at all. I was hooked as soon as Columbo began his investigation. I knew he’d solve the mystery, and I couldn’t wait to find out how he did it. Next time I need a trim, I may skip the appointment altogether. I’ll take a seat, request Columbo on TV, and bring my writing journal. I’ll study the master detective at work and take notes for the next mystery.

Have you ever written a reverse whodunnit?

What’s a Freedom Plane?

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In the government’s growing penchant for giving events names that have little relation to what they actually are, our Museum of Natural History announced the arrival of The National Archive’s “Freedom Plane Tour,” a display in honor of the 250th anniversary of  the United States of America. The invitation to the opening of the exhibit had me wondering where they’d be parking a Boeing 737 in the museum’s urban setting.

Silly me, to think there was a plane in the exhibit.

The plane never left the airport. Only its precious contents are on display in a very small, darkened space at the museum. We joined the long line of folks slowly snaking into and through the closet-sized, curtained enclosure, surrounded by security. Only a dozen or so gawkers at a time were granted a brief view of some of the most important original documents that forged our nation.

At first, I was disappointed that only a few items were there. But as I took my turn before each one, I was transfixed. I began to imagine what it must have been like for those who struggled to produce them, and the compromises and sacrifices that had to be reckoned with in order to forge a new nation, founded on radical principals of liberty and freedom, at least as they were perceived 250 years ago.

I imagined what fortitude and courage it took to reach enough consensus to have laid it out on a page for all posterity.Oaths of Allegiance to King George I wished I was allowed more time to read the difficult script and each signature, and especially, to ponder those last minute, hand-written edits on what became the final drafts.

It was definitely a messy business, and it’s not difficult to understand why we’re still debating many of the particulars today.

Which may be why, at the outset, the founders must have known how important it was to insert the word “more” between “a” and “perfect union.” They understood that, hard as we humans may try, achieving perfection is only a pipe dream.

And yet, bless our little hearts, we still try.

Every citizen learns at least an elementary version of how life was back then. But many of the details, as evidenced in the few documents displayed here, were new to me. More than any history book or TV documentary I’ve ever come across, these few items on display brought the struggle to life.

Treaty of Paris 1783In adding their names to the Declaration of Independence in 1776, these colonial representatives still had to unite and then muster the wherewithal to engage in a long, costly war. A  peace treaty with Britain was not signed until 1783.

But that’s not all.

They still had to figure out how to form a unified nation among the independent colonies, each of which had varying economic and social needs and philosophies.That task took well over a decade to accomplish.

The final draft of the U.S. Constitution was not ratified until 1783, and at the actual signing, representatives from only eleven the thirteen new states were present.

Fast forward to current times

As I walked out of the exhibit, the day was dreary. So was my mood. I mourned the spirit of so those who stood up for their lofty principles and fought battle after battle, both intellectually and physically, to create a country that has been, for almost all of its 250 years, the envy of the world.

It’s difficult these days to remain positive about the future of our country, what with the seemingly constant turmoil within and outside of our borders. While it’s tempting to believe that, since we’ve always been able to pull ourselves away from the brink of collapse, things will always work themselves out. But great civilizations before us have thrived and withered. Let us not be complacent.

I’ve included photos of every document in the exhibit; the pictures aren’t great, but given the crowd, the lighting, the height of the display, and the short time allowed, t’was the best I could do. Like our country, much is still a work in progress.

If you want to experience the exhibit in person, the official itinerary is here: Freedom Plane. 

Read more about this award-winning author at GayYellen.com.

 

Behaving Badly: Out of the Drawer

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Dear Stiletto Gang Readers: I am so proud to know today’s guest. Read on; I have no doubt you’ll understand why. ~ Donnell Ann Bell  

Out of the Drawer

By: Rochelle Staab

Author Rochelle Staab

Most every writer keeps one or more unwritten novels somewhere in a drawer/file/box, waiting, hoping for the enthusiasm to finish. Most drawer stories wait forever. Some resurface then fizzle again. My new novel, Behaving Badly, spent ten years in the drawer before the escape. Inspiration didn’t reappear overnight. Unwittingly, my personal journey away from writing, fed into the story and setting and made me a better writer.

After a series cancellation and my frustration in trying to please an editorial team who liked me but not the ideas I pitched, I decided to write what I really wanted to write: noir set in depression/prohibition-era Los Angeles. Using a working title of Above the Fold, I created a gritty, recently widowed female crime reporter who chased front-page headline stories about crime and corruption in 1930s Los Angeles without the convenience of a cell phone or a computer.

I loved the idea. Like so many women who found and claimed their power through the 1920s into the 1930s, my heroine had guts. Tess—my protag’s name has always been Tess—had a character profile, a supporting cast, solid research, and a complicated abduction plot involving a silent screen star lookalike.

Seventeen chapters in, Tess claimed her ground. I deflated. My agent gave me a mediocre response when I pitched a historical noir mystery featuring a female reporter. I feared the same reaction from my editor. I needed to shake off rejection and self-doubt and do something to make me feel good about myself.

Rochelle Staab and hiking buddy Barbara Beck at Escondido Falls, Malibu, California

I had always felt less than because I didn’t have a college degree, something I knew I had the power to fix. I enrolled in the local community college to see if I had what it took to erase my insecurity. My major would be English, because, you know, writer? But a required history class seduced me. One more, and I became a history major. I graduated and moved on to Cal State Northridge to complete my credits. I read primary sources; I wrote essays about world history. I formed opinions. Despite being the oldest history major at CSUN, I did a summer internship at the Autry Museum. I built a blog on the history of chocolate and co-wrote a video about the history of Los Angeles State Historic Park. Without planning, the classes I took, like the history of Weimar Germany, added context to the world surrounding Tess. My Sunday hikes around L.A. gave me a sidewalk-up familiarity (setting!) with Los Angeles infrastructure during the city’s growing years, the city Tess lived and worked in.

During my last semester at CSUN, I had a casual conversation with an acquaintance at my gym, a man who read hard cover novels on his daily stationary bike routine. I told him I wrote three books. A week later I spotted him reading my first book, Who Do Voodoo? on the bike. Seeing him turn the pages of my book fired a spark. I wondered if I would ever have the courage and creativity to write another novel.

Two weeks before I graduated with Honors, the gym guy and I had dinner. He asked what I would be writing after I graduated.  Just so I could call myself a writer and still believe it, I told him about Tess, my 30s reporter. That night I opened the “drawer” in my computer and figuratively pulled out Tess and what soon became Behaving Badly.

I started editing the seventeen chapters I wrote ten years ago and fell in love with the story all over again. Worried about failing Tess one more time, I logged my daily word count but without specific goals. From then on, each day when my gym friend asked how the writing was going, I had an answer. I found my pattern. Editing the seventeen chapters gave me courage. From there, I tried to write a new chapter each week, building the rest of the story without pressure or deadline. My friends smiled at me with that patient “will she ever finish the damned thing?” look. Twenty-eight chapters later, and a much richer story, Tess tied up some loose plot ends, and I typed THE END.

I had promised myself that if my agent still didn’t like historical noir ten years later, I would take charge of my writing future, self-publish Behaving Badly, and reclaim my agency. When he told me that the historical fiction genre had no audience, and perhaps I should write about hiking instead, our gracious parting made me a publisher.

A chance meeting with another author while on a basement tour of speakeasys in downtown L.A.—where else would authors bond?—led to a self-publishing conversation. He offered to school me. I took him up on it, followed the process, commissioned a cover, formatted the document, and within weeks uploaded Behaving Badly to Amazon. The feeling of publishing my own book exhilarated me.

On April 30, Tess and Behaving Badly debuted at #14 on Amazon’s Depression History of the U.S. chart and hit #10 the next morning. Today Amazon named Behaving Badly the “Top New Release” in Depression History of the U.S. Tiny category, but fitting, I think, for a historian, noir mystery author and publisher with her 1930s drawer novel.

Never give up, fellow writers. Never give up.

About the Book:

In 1932 Los Angeles, crime has no consequences

Recently widowed crime beat reporter Tess Hammond turns grief into purpose when her editor assigns her a seemingly small missing-teen story that balloons into murder, corruption, violence, and white slavery in Depression-wrought, Prohibition-era 1932 Los Angeles. As the search for the young woman leads Tess from an underground speakeasy to a Poverty Row studio, from Hollywood Boulevard nightlife to a gambling ship at sea, she encounters a world of mobsters, corrupt cops and, eerily, the chain of duplicity and corruption that cost her detective husband his life and almost ends her own.

About the Author: Rochelle Staab is a Los Angeles mystery writer, avid hiker, trail blogger, and historian with a deep background in the radio and music industry. She returned to the writing community in 2026 after a seven-year hiatus to earn a BA in history with an emphasis on America and Los Angeles. Using Mother Nature as a tour guide, Rochelle has blogged about over 300 different hikes in the mountains, urbs, and burbs of Los Angeles, exploring L.A. from the ground up. Rochelle’s fourth novel, BEHAVING BADLY, the first Tess Hammond historical noir mystery novel set in 1932 Los Angeles, released in May 2026.  ~ https://rochellestaab.com/

What’s the big idea?

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One of my favorite lines from a film is during The Trouble with Angels when Hayley Mills who plays a troublemaker teenager says, “I have a scathingly brilliant idea!”

Mine may not be scathingly brilliant but for many a spark or an idea can be a figurative pot of gold. I got my idea for The Past Came Hunting after listening to Trisha Yearwood and Don Henley’s country song “Walk Away Joe.” The lyrics surround a seventeen-year-old girl who refuses to listen to her mother and runs off with her bad-news boyfriend. As the song goes, the girl waits in the car while the young man robs a gas station.

During a police ride-along, I asked the officer I was riding with what would happen to the girl?

“Seventeen. In the commission of a felony,” he replied. “She might be charged as an accessory—might even be tried as an adult and go to prison.” My kids were near that age at the time and I was appalled.

Later I asked him, “What’s the worst thing that could happen to you as a police officer?” Without hesitation, he answered, “If an ex-con moved next door to me.”

Boom! I had my story.

I researched how some authors came up with ideas and discovered:

J.K. Rowling got her idea for Harry Potter from a delayed train journey.

J.R.R. Tolkein, creator of the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, got the idea for the Hobbit from a random sentence he wrote while grading papers.

Suzanne Collins, Hunger Games, was channel surfing and watching young people compete for a million-dollar contest.

Still, ideas can be nebulous and are often fleeting. Author Hank Phillippi Ryan and I discussed this during an interview. She said her muse show up at a restaurant. She reached for a napkin, then her pen and started writing. All I can say is if an idea or inspiration strikes, be ready to focus and find a way to jot it down.

Finally, my favorite anecdote about ideas and inspiration has to be from musician John Tesh who shared his backstory when he created Roundball Rock, the Chicago Bulls theme song, which in 2025 became the overall theme song for the NBA. The story as well as the score is breathtaking. Here’s the Youtube link and well worth a listen:

https://youtu.be/V_h7Lm7C9Nk?si=L-qVONhk5fTx3ej1

How about you? Got any goldmine ideas you’ve encountered to write a book or otherwise? Where do you get your ideas?

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/

One-hit wonder

One-Hit Wonders

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Do you know there’s a list of one-hit wonders on Wikipedia? It’s true, there is, and those one-hit wonders are even broken down by decade. Back in May 2025, Jay Hartman, Editor-in-Chief, White City Press emailed me with an invitation to submit a short story for Lunatic Fringe, a sequel to their anthology (I Just) Died in Your Arms: Crime Fiction Inspired by One-Hit Wonders. The only criteria was the song had to come from the list, could not have been done before, and it had to actually inspire the story. It wouldn’t do just to have a character listen to the song or dance to it or some other easy way out.

Now, I’ve had stories in anthologies before (including five that I published under Superior Shores Press). In fact, I got my start as an author by being published in three anthologies in one year (2014). But invited? I’d never been “invited” before. I allowed myself ten minutes of feeling important before surveying the one-hit wonder list. And there it was:

One-hit wonders

Baby, It’s You by Smith

I was probably a bit too young to fully appreciate the angst in lead singer Gayle McCormick’s voice (though I’ve certainly been there and done that since), but I’ve loved that song since the first time I heard it, which would have been 1969, the year it was released. I wasn’t the only one. Baby, It’s You sold over one million copies between July and October 1969, out-charted popular versions by the Beatles and Shirelles, and was awarded a gold record.

Like many bands with or without one-hit wonders, Smith soon disbanded, and after a brief solo career, McCormick left the music business. A lifelong smoker, she died of metastatic lung cancer in 2016, at the age of 67.

My protagonist in the story is named (you guessed it) Gayle. And the man that broke her heart? None other than Mac McCormick, a wannabe writer and very much married man.

The opening paragraph of my story goes like this:

My Mama always said there’s a lid for every pot, it just took some folks longer than others to find their match. Even so, I’d just about given up hope of ever meeting my lid when Mac McCormick walked into my life.

And later…

I was sitting on my Mama’s porch, rocking back and forth in her white wicker recliner. It had been six months since that first day at the Sleep & Nap and with the exception of the bookstore and the coffee shop, Mac and I had never been anywhere else. It hadn’t mattered in the beginning, mostly because I’d been so sure that he was my lid. But now I wondered if maybe it was loose somehow, like my lid didn’t have a snug enough fit, like there was something else I needed to do. Because not going anywhere, well, it just didn’t feel right.

“Ah, Gayle honey,” my Mama said when I’d finished, her voice soft, the way it got when she was about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “Seems like you’ve found yourself a double boiler.”

I looked at her, confused.

“A married man, honey.”

Married?

That would never do.

If you’ve never heard the song …

or if you’d like a refresher, there’s a fabulous Youtube version.

And if you’re a fan of songs that have lived on long after you’ve forgotten the artist who recorded them, then Lunatic Fringe is the anthology for you! Enjoy contributions that mix the best of music and crime from Steve Liskow, Vicki Erwin, Kaye George, John M. Floyd, Linda Kay Hardie, Sandra Murphy, Karen Keeley, Teresa Inge, Michael Bracken, Mary Dutta, Nikki Knight, Judy Penz Sheluk (that’s me!) and Adam Meyer.

You can find  Lunatic Fringe at your favorite retailer or purchase directly from White City Press.

The past Chair of Crime Writers of Canada, Judy Penz Sheluk is the bestselling author of seven mystery novels, five anthologies, and two award-winning books on publishing, including Finding YOUR Path to Publication and Self-publishing: The Ins & Outs of Going Indie. Find her at www.judypenzsheluk.com.

 

Clicking Our Heels Featured Image

Clicking Our Heels – Some of Our Favorite Things

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Clicking Our Heels

Some of Our Favorite Things

Welcome to 2026. This year, the gang wants to give you more insight into all of us. That’s why our theme each month will address something personal or share some of our favorite things. This month, the topic is what would surprise you, our readers, most about each of us.

T.K. Thorne: I am a short, grey-headed, sweet old lady, and I get a chuckle out of the typical disbelieving reaction when people learn I was a police captain.

Saralyn Richard: I’m super organized when it comes to my house, my closet, and my former work as a school administrator and consultant, but my writing desk and first drafts are rather chaotic. I can’t explain this dichotomy, except that creative work may involve the opposite side of my brain.

Kathleen Kaska: I’m a Yankees fan.

Judy Penz Sheluk: Probably that I listen to talk radio while I write. And that I can’t write if there’s music on in the background because I find it too distracting.

Lois Winston: I hate peanut butter! Can’t even stand the smell of it. It triggers my gag reflexes. When my kids were little, I had to hold my breath while making them PB&J sandwiches.

Bethany Maines: I think that most readers would be surprised by how instantly anxious I get when someone says those fearsome words “I read your book.” Because I never know what is going to come next.

Gay Yellen: Readers seem to love the passages in my books involving food. But I do not cook. I just like to eat, and so does my protagonist!

Mary Lee Ashford: I’m not sure readers would be surprised by much of anything because I share a lot of things about my crazy life and my loves with them. I guess I don’t talk much about what I did before retirement because boring… So I guess readers might be surprised to know I spent 30 plus years as a public servant, at first in Customer Service aka complaint central, then as a Management Analyst/Congressional Liaison, and then a Business Analyst, and finally as the Deputy Director of Information Technology.

Donalee Moulton: That depends, to a certain extent, on what book they’ve just read. If it’s Hung Out to Die, my first mystery novel, readers will be surprised to learn I do not drink coffee (at least with caffeine) and I do not like donairs. (I hope they would not be surprised to learn I am not a psychopath.) Readers of Bind and Melt might come to believe I have a penchant for PowerPoint presentations. I do not.

Debra H. Goldstein: That I’m shy.

The Games People Play & the Value of Improvisation: Part Two

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Donnell Ann BellBy Donnell Ann Bell

Last month I wrote a blog called The Games People Play & the Value of Improvisation | The Stiletto Gang

My point in writing the blog was to explain how word games and improvisation can activate our brains. For writers, games and improvisation not only are fun, we can also use them as tools. Tools to inspire or to help us get unstuck. Further, working these puzzles often churn out writing nuggets worthy of a goldmine.

In last month’s blog I gave an improv example and invited others to play. This month, I’d like to post the participant contributions, and to put myself on the spot as well, I even gave it a whirl.

Special thanks to Marianne Shields one of the Stiletto Gang Readers who I think is a closet writer!!! Be sure to read her gem of an improv.

Here’s how my improvisation assignment works:

Assign five random words and the start of a sentence. (Words are from the Merriam-Webster Deluxe Dictionary. The start of a sentence is from a random book on my shelf.)

Instructions: Create a paragraph or two using the five random words. Participants were free to start with the fragmented sentence or use it further inside their narrative.

Finish this sentence:  Nothing explained the. . .

Five Random Words:

Damage

Firepit

Mirror

Plumbing

Stretch

~~

Participant: Brooke Terpening

Nothing explained the cracked Mirror in the Firepit or the Damage that Stretch(ed) from the broken Plumbing line.

 

Participant: Mary Lee Ashford

Looking in the mirror I surveyed the damage from the firepit. I stepped into the shower and prayed the plumbing was feeling cooperative and I’d be able to adjust the water temperature. It was a stretch to reach the faucet, and I winced. Nothing explained the cruelty.

 

Participant: Marianne Shields

Nothing explained the awful damage to the pearl beading on Margaret’s scarlet ball gown When she went for her final fitting a few days ago, it looked fabulous. She brought it home and carefully hung it on her closet doorframe beside her bedroom mirror. It was quite a stretch to get it up high enough to be out of the reach of Susie, her nosey little scotty. Looking out the bedroom window, she noticed Mack’s plumbing company van parked at the curb in front of the house. Her handyman was scheduled to connect a gas line to the patio firepit this morning.

Meantime the mystery of what or who had torn the lovely beading away from the bodice and skirt of the dress needed to be solved. As she retrieved the beads that were scattered on the floor, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a long green feather. Good grief, she thought, was Petie loose in the house again? A month ago, her parrot had somehow escaped from his cage and had been flying freely about the house. The brightness of her red dress no doubt attracted Petie and his natural curiosity. He could not resist the shiny beads.

 

Participant: Donnell Ann Bell

As an arson investigator I was often called in to confirm questionable fire scenes. But as I talked to the lead cop, I couldn’t sign off on his report just yet. True, the winds had been 40 miles an hour two nights ago. I simply found his theory that firepit sparks had ignited the blaze a stretch. Not that it couldn’t happen, (embers were a leading cause of forest fires) But nothing explained the considerable damage. A typical house fire didn’t melt the plumbing or reduce a three-bedroom house to the foundation. Still, I’d yet to discover any evidence of an accelerant or any other point of origin besides the pit.

Clad in my rubber boots and gloves I traipsed through the ash and rubble one last time, ready to accept defeat and add my signature to the report. That was, until my boot kicked up something solid. At the sight of an uncharred ladies’ compact, I froze. I also suspected I’d find the mirror inside undamaged as well.

It wasn’t a lucky guess. I’d found an identical compact at a scene I’d investigated the month before.

 

Thanks to the participants for playing improv with me. See you next month! 🙂

 

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