A while back I started daydreaming about The Ink & Armchair Book Studio. It would be a cozy little bookshop and writing space with armchairs and good light, local authors books on consignment, a corner where writers could come sit and just write. It would also be a writing space for me away from home.

Then I started pricing retail space.

Turns out “cozy little bookshop” costs a lot more than cozy. And when I brought the idea to a few people, I didn’t get the enthusiasm I was hoping for.

So today I’m nursing a bruised idea and a bruised ego. I spent most of last evening telling myself maybe I should just stay in my lane. Write my books. Stop being crazy.

But I keep coming back around to the idea that you can’t have big dreams without the chance to have big failures. Risk wouldn’t be risk if there was no chance of losing.

So I’m not done with this idea yet. It’s on pause, for a time at least. But the dream is still there.

Keep dreaming,

Amethyst Drake

I write mysteries that deliver justice by bedtime for the ones who come out sharper.
Find my fiction at amethystdrake.com.

Book three is in the world now.

I keep saying it like I’m still getting used to it. Beyond Tarnish is out, Katherine Carson is back, and I’ve spent the last couple of weeks finding out what it actually feels like when a book you’ve worked on finally meets people.

You’d think by book three I’d have this figured out. I’m starting to think that’s not how it works.

Read the full article here. ➡️

What I’m Into:

• My Fair Lady, a 1964 musical comedy starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison.

  • ^{I LOVE movie musicals. Currently have “Just you wait, Henry Higgins” stuck in my head!}

• Golden Oldies! Today’s playlist on Youtube.

  • ^{I listen to different kinds of music depending on what I’m working on. Oldies remind me of the gang of Shady Glenn in my Margaret Mitchell Mysteries.}

• Sherlock Holmes Short Stories. Rereading well loved novels and stories is one of my favorite ways to refresh and refill after finishing a novel. Lately I’ve been listening to Conan Doyle’s classics read by Hugh Bonneville in a podcast by Noiser. Highly recommend!

News:

The Case of the Poison Powder, the first Margaret Mitchell Mystery is available as an ebook at Amazon and on Kindle Unlimited. I’m currently working on the second novella in this cozy cousin to Carson Crime Files starring Katherine’s best friend Margaret and her white terrier, Spotty. If you want more of the chemistry between Jake and Maggie…this series is where you’ll find it.

Homemade Homegrown Market at the Nichols Branch Library, Saturday July 18 from 10am - 2pm. Come by and grab a book or have a chat!

Shelby County Farmers Market as Stargazer Plaza. Kentucky Authors will be at the Bluegrass Writers Coalition booth EVERY Saturday! I will be there July 25 and August 29.

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Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to support my work, buy a book, leave a review,

or subscribe to my paid substack for extra content.

For the Writers in the Room

Mystery reader by day, writer by night? I’ve got a place for that too. Writer Notes from Amethyst Drake covers the writing life — the craft, the doubts, and everything in between. amethystdrakewriternotes.substack.com

I keep saying it like I’m still getting used to it. Beyond Tarnish is out, Katherine Carson is back, and I’ve spent the last couple of weeks finding out what it actually feels like when a book you’ve worked on finally meets people.

You’d think by book three I’d have this figured out. I’m starting to think that’s not how it works.

The launch was a come-and-go reception at a local coffee shop here in Shelbyville. I set up my table, arranged the books, and quietly hoped the foot traffic would do some of the work for me. It didn’t. That part I had to let go of pretty quickly. But here’s what I didn’t expect — someone found me through a Facebook ad, walked in, and bought four complete sets of books. Four. For the whole series. I stood there for a second not quite knowing what to say. That one moment felt like a message: keep going.

I sold forty-five copies of Beyond Tarnish that day, had conversations that reminded me why I write these characters, and left feeling like something real had happened — even if it looked quieter from the outside than I’d imagined.

Two days later I ran into a friend who’d picked up a copy at the launch. She clapped her hands together and announced, “I finished your book — yay! I liked it. And it surprised me.” She said it with such genuine delight that I laughed out loud. She’d read it in two days. That’s exactly what I aim for — a book short enough and sharp enough that if you want to finish it in a sitting or two, you can. Hearing that from her, said exactly like that, felt like the review that mattered most.

Then there was the book fair — exactly one week after launch day.

The Bluegrass Writers Coalition put it together, and we were set up in a covered pavilion with about twenty of my author friends, Rahab’s Rope providing the music, and the kind of easy conversation that only happens when you’re surrounded by people who understand this life. What we didn’t have was foot traffic. Because it rained. It rained in that steady, committed way that makes people choose their couch over pretty much anything else, including discovering a local author they might love.

I could have spent the day frustrated. I almost did, for a minute.

We’d had readings scheduled, and we decided to go ahead anyway — no customers, no problem. Good practice, if nothing else. I went first, reading an excerpt from Beyond Tarnish to the group. Then Jenna Gilliam stepped away from Rahab’s Rope and came up to interview me in front of everyone. She has this gift for making you feel like you’re just talking — like there’s no crowd, no pressure, just a conversation. Two other authors shared their work after that, and somewhere in the middle of all of it I forgot to be disappointed. The community that was already there under that pavilion, in the rain — that was the event.

My takeaway from that day: don’t be so focused on who didn’t show up that you miss the people who did.

Book three is in the world. That’s the thing I keep coming back to. Everything else is just the story of how it got here.

Thanks for reading! 📖

Drop a comment if you made it to the end. 🥰

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A New Space for Writers

New publication at Writers Notes. I'll be talking craft, process, the parts of writing nobody puts in the acknowledgments. Doubt. Bad first drafts. The scene that fought me for three weeks. If you're the kind of reader who wants the behind-the-curtain version of how a book actually gets made, that's what's coming. Join the conversation at amethystdrakewriternotes.substack.com

Writer Notes from Amethyst Drake

Craft, process, and the messy parts of actually building a book — for writers who want company, not a pitch.

I’ve been sitting with that for a few days now, trying to decide if it feels real yet. It doesn’t, quite. But it will on June 20th!

Here’s what’s happening that day:

Beyond Tarnish will be available everywhere. I’ll have purchase links in my next update and across my social platforms. If you’re local to Shelbyville, KY, I’ll be at Sixth and Main Coffeehouse from noon to 5 for a come-and-go release reception. Signed copies, launch day pricing, and I genuinely love talking to readers. Come find me!

If you’ve been thinking about going annual, now is the time! Annual subscriptions are 20% off through August 1. Paid members get an additional monthly update plus the chance to participate in my writing process directly: polls, early access content, and open comments. If you want more than the newsletter, that’s where it lives. The discount is active now at checkout.

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And something I haven’t shared anywhere else yet: starting with the Beyond Tarnish launch, I’m introducing Carson Crime Files Book Club Bundles. I’ll save the full details for June 20th — but I’ll tell you this much: it’s not just books in the box, and one thing in there is something I’ve never offered before.

Ten days. I’ll see you on the other side of it.

Amethyst

Enter the Margaret Mitchell Mysteries. Margaret, her white terrier Spotty, and her gang at the local nursing home tackle Baltimore mysteries with pluck, perception, and palaver.

The first novella in the series ties directly to The Scheme — though you don’t need to have read it to follow the mystery. (If you want the easter eggs, grab your copy of The Scheme here.)

The full novella is out now — and free to read if you’re on Kindle Unlimited. Here’s Chapter 1 to get you hooked.

The Case of the Poison Powder

Chapter 1

“My instinct and intuition tell me there’s a request behind that compliment.” Katherine set down her water glass with that deliberate precision she used when she was already three steps ahead.

Margaret couldn’t help but grin. After thirty years of friendship, Katherine knew her too well. She also knew Margaret had a habit of ordering the cheapest thing on the menu then “sampling” half of Katherine’s entrée. It was a dance they’d perfected over hundreds of meals.

“And your integrity will tell you to take this case.” She pulled a file folder from her oversized leather bag with a flourish. Katherine called Margaret’s Baltimore charm a “tactical weapon.” And honestly? She took it as a compliment.

“I suppose this will be a pro bono case?” Katherine accepted the folder.

“I’ll buy your dinner!”

Katherine didn’t even glance up. “You were already buying my dinner.”

“Well then, I’ll buy your next dinner!” Margaret leaned forward conspiratorially. “Plus dessert. That fancy semifreddo you pretend you’re too disciplined to order but always steal bites of mine.”

“I don’t steal. I accept your freely offered bites.”

“I offer them because you’re giving me the sad puppy eyes.”

“I don’t do sad puppy eyes. I do calculated strategic guilt projection.” Katherine finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

Margaret laughed. “This woman is being railroaded, Kat. Absolutely railroaded. And we’re going to stop it.”

Katherine flipped through the file, and Margaret pretended to study the menu she had memorized. She knew better than to interrupt when Katherine was processing. They’d been doing this dance since Margaret was eight years old. She’d get them into mysteries, and Katherine figured out how to solve them. Now Margaret was a criminal defense attorney, and Katherine ran a private detective agency.

Some things are meant to be.

“Your table is ready, ladies.” The hostess led them to the back corner booth, Margaret’s favorite spot. High-backed, private, perfect for confidential consultations.

She slid across the buttery leather seat and breathed in the restaurant’s signature aroma: roasted garlic and fresh basil, with an undertone of that expensive truffle oil the chef used sparingly enough to feel special. The soft jazz was live tonight, a pianist in the corner playing something that sounded like moonlight feels. Warm Edison bulb lighting cast everything in honeyed tones, making even Margaret’s stack of legal documents look artistic. This was the kind of place where you could discuss felonies over pasta and nobody even blinked. In fact, the couple in the next booth appeared to be planning either a merger or a murder, and the server just smiled and topped off their wine.

This was her kind of place.

They ordered—mushroom ravioli for her, of course—and Margaret started talking about the case. Facts first, moral outrage second. That’s what worked with Katherine.

“Why are the police convinced she’s guilty?” Katherine’s tone was flat. Professional.

Margaret leaned forward. “The storage facility has restricted access. Only three individuals are authorized to enter the secure areas. My client, Sade Jalloh, is the storage manager. Her badge gets her everywhere.” She paused, making sure she had Katherine’s full attention. “And according to the ASA—who is far too smug about this, by the way—the digital logs show her badge was scanned at the facility on the night of the theft.”

The server set down a bowl of spinach and artichoke dip and a basket of bread. Katherine was watching Margaret with those deep blue eyes that missed nothing. “But you don’t believe she did it.”

“Not for one second, hon.” Margaret met her gaze directly. This was the part that mattered. “Sade has worked there for fifteen years. Never missed a day. Never had a single complaint. She volunteers at her church, for heaven’s sake. And suddenly she’s going to risk everything to steal pesticides?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t track. Kat. It’s someone looking at a scared Black woman and deciding she must be guilty because the computer says so.”

Katherine tore off a piece of bread. “The alibi is weak, Mags. Wandering a city for hours looking for an address that doesn’t exist?” A pause while she took a bite. “That won’t hold up.”

“Which is exactly why we need to find the construction worker who gave her directions that night! If he remembers her, we’ve got corroboration. We’ve got timeline. We’ve got reasonable doubt.” Margaret leaned in. “Sade insists she wasn’t anywhere near that facility. Someone used her badge. Someone set her up. And I am going to prove it.”

Katherine’s fingers started rhythmic tapping on the table. Thinking mode activated. “Jake is going to Wilmington tomorrow for our missing persons case. I’ll have him look for your witness, too.”

Margaret felt victory swell through her chest. She smiled wide and popped a whole slice of bread in her mouth, not even caring about elegance. “You’re an angel, Kat. A genuine angel.”

“Maybe the two of you can get together for dinner to discuss his results,” Katherine said with a sly smile.

Heat rushed to Margaret’s cheeks. “Why I...ah...” Good Lord, even thinking about Jake Mercer turned her into a flustered schoolgirl. The man was six feet of quiet competence and steady hands, and she’d been half in love with him since Katherine introduced them seven years ago.

“That would be very...strategic. Professional coordination,” she babbled.

Katherine mercifully changed the subject. “How does Marty Slye fit into all this? He told me he was ‘on the other side’ of this case.”

Just hearing that weasel’s name made Margaret’s nose scrunch up. Marty Slye represented everything wrong with their profession—all schtick, no ethics, and an ego that preceded him into every room.

“A few weeks ago, Sade suspected her husband of having another affair. She hired Marty to follow him and gather evidence.”

“And he found some.”

“Of course! Pictures of her husband with another woman. Recordings of conversations about divorce proceedings.” Margaret tapped the file folder with one coral-polished nail. “Then, when news broke about Sade’s arrest, Marty ‘came forward’ like any upstanding citizen would.” She rolled her eyes hard enough to see her own brain. “Publicity hound.”

Katherine lifted an eyebrow. “He’ll testify against her. Get his free publicity.”

“Exactly!” Margaret pointed her fork. “The police think an impending divorce and her husband’s infidelity give her a motive. She can sell twenty-five kilograms of chlorpyrifos to local farmers, build herself a nest egg while the marriage falls apart.”

Katherine tilted her head. “Chlorpyrifos isn’t particularly valuable. Most common pesticide in the US. A big company like AgroSynthetics must have more valuable inventory to steal.”

“Precisely!” Margaret felt that spark of vindication. This was why she needed Katherine. “The woman has an MBA. If she’s committing grand larceny, she’d at least steal something worth the prison time.”

“You need to talk to the other two people with access. Find out what else was stored there.” Katherine paused, and something shifted in her expression—a crack in that professional armor. “And triple-check Marty’s story. Wouldn’t be the first time he...” She stopped. Caught herself. “I wish I could do more. The Ames case has me stretched thin.”

Margaret reached across the table and squeezed Katherine’s hand. The woman worked too hard, always had. “No worries, hon. You just find my witness, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Their server arrived with steaming plates, and Margaret ate greedily. She’d been so busy prepping for Sade’s preliminary hearing that she’d forgotten to eat lunch. Again.

“If your client didn’t steal the pesticides, someone else did.” Katherine cut into her chicken with surgical precision. “Someone with access. Or someone who bypassed the security system.”

“Or someone who cloned her badge.” Margaret dabbed her mouth with her napkin, mind racing. “I’m meeting with the facility’s IT director tomorrow. And I need to have a very long conversation with Sade’s husband. If he’s planning to divorce her anyway, why not frame her for theft? He gets everything in the settlement while she’s fighting criminal charges.”

“That’s cold.”

Margaret felt her smile turn sharp. “Isn’t it just? But that’s what we’re dealing with, Kat. Someone cold enough to destroy this woman’s life.” She leaned back. “And I am going to find them.”

Katherine raised her water glass. “To justice.”

Margaret clinked her wine glass against it. “And to friends who help us fight for it.”

Keep reading — get the rest of the story on Amazon → https://a.co/d/0e8pg5P4
Free with Kindle Unlimited, or grab the ebook for $2.99!

At some point during this deep dive into mobile phones, I realized I'd lost sight of why I was researching in the first place. The scene I was writing involved Katherine Carson receiving a text message. That's it. A simple text that moves the plot forward. But somehow I'd convinced myself that the entire credibility of Framed hinged on getting the phone model right.

Welcome to the research rabbit hole. Every historical fiction writer's simultaneous best friend and worst enemy.

When 2009 Feels Like Ancient History

Setting my Carson Crime Files Series in 2009 seemed straightforward at first. After all, I lived through 2009. I remember what it was like. How hard could it be to recreate a world from just seventeen years ago?

Turns out, incredibly hard.

The problem isn't that 2009 was so long ago. It's that technology has changed so rapidly that what felt normal then now feels like ancient artifacts. I found myself second-guessing every tech reference, wondering if I was misremembering how things actually worked.

Take social media. In 2009, Facebook was still relatively new to many people, MySpace was hanging on, and Twitter was just gaining momentum. But how did people actually use these platforms? What did the interfaces look like? When Katherine's team needs to investigate someone's online presence, what would they realistically find?

I spent an entire afternoon watching archived YouTube videos showing Facebook's 2009 layout, taking screenshots like I was documenting a lost civilization.

The BlackBerry Spiral

The BlackBerry research illustrates how good intentions can derail productivity. It started innocently. I wanted Katherine to receive an urgent message while investigating. Simple enough. Then the questions began:

Would a private detective carry a BlackBerry or a regular cell phone? Which models were available in Baltimore in 2009? How did texting work differently then? Did people use abbreviations the same way? What about email on mobile devices?

Before I knew it, I was deep in forums discussing BlackBerry features, reading tech reviews from 2009, and watching unboxing videos of phones that are now museum pieces. I learned more about early smartphone keyboards than any mystery writer should ever need to know.

The scene still just involved Katherine getting a text message.

When Research Becomes Procrastination

Here's the uncomfortable truth: sometimes research becomes a sophisticated form of procrastination. It feels productive because you're learning, but you're not actually writing. And there's always one more detail to verify, one more source to check, one more rabbit hole to explore.

I realized I'd crossed the line when I started researching the specific models of security cameras that Baltimore art galleries would have used in 2009. The cameras weren't even important to the plot. But I'd convinced myself that authenticity required knowing whether they recorded to VHS tapes or digital storage.

(For the record, it was probably digital by then, but the transition was ongoing. See? I'm still doing it.)

Finding the Balance

The key to managing research is remembering that perfect accuracy isn't the goal. Believable accuracy is. Your readers want to be immersed in the world you're creating, not impressed by your Wikipedia skills.

Here's what I've learned about when to research and when to write:

Research first for big-picture elements. I needed to understand the general technology landscape of 2009 before writing scenes that depended on it. But I didn't need to know every technical specification.

Write first, fact-check later. If I'm in the middle of a scene and need to know something specific, I often write "[RESEARCH: what kind of car would detective drive in 2009]" and keep going. The momentum of writing is too valuable to sacrifice for minor details.

Set research boundaries. I give myself permission to spend a reasonable amount of time researching specific questions—usually no more than an hour unless it's crucial to the plot. After that, I make my best educated guess and move on.

Remember your expertise. I lived through 2009. My instincts about how people behaved and what felt normal are probably more valuable than any amount of technical research.

Practical Rabbit Hole Management

Now if I find myself more than three clicks deep into research that started with a simple question, I stop. I bookmark the page, make a note, and return to writing.

I also remind myself that readers care more about compelling characters and engaging plots than about whether Katherine's phone had a physical keyboard or a touchscreen. If the story works, small anachronisms won't matter. (Right?)

My goal isn't to recreate 2009 perfectly. It's to create a believable world where Katherine Carson's story can unfold naturally. Sometimes that means accepting that some details will be approximations, and that's okay.

After all, I'm writing fiction, not a historical documentary. The BlackBerry can just be a BlackBerry.

Katherine Carson fans, look out! Book 3 of the Carson Crime Files is in the final stages of editing. That means it’s coming soon!

Follow me on Social Media for updates!

www.facebook.com/amethystdrake.author

www.instagram.com/amethyst.drake.author

www.pinterest.com/agswordsmiths

But one character in The Scheme refused to be compliant. I planned for Mrs. Nichols to be the kindly older woman who lived downstairs from the missing woman. I needed her to talk briefly to a detective and reveal what she knew about what happened the night Olivia disappeared. Which, as far as I knew, was not much. She would wring her hands, apologize for not being more help, express concern for the sweet young lady upstairs, and that would be that. Exit Mrs. Nichols. That was my plan when I started writing this scene:

“Lee knocked on the door of apartment 116, located directly beneath Olivia’s apartment. A woman with rosy skin and gray curls pulled the door open until the security chain caught.

“Yes?” She peered at the intruder, clutching the collar of a pink bathrobe to her chest.

Lee flashed his most winning smile. He pulled his credentials out of his pocket and held them so the woman could see. “Mrs. Nichols, I’m a private detective hired to find your upstairs neighbor, Olivia Ames.”

The woman didn’t budge. She took her time reading the license in his wallet. Lee swallowed back the impulse to ask her to get her reading glasses. Then she turned her bright green eyes onto the tall detective, looking him up and down. She nodded curtly and pushed the door closed.”

And that’s when I realized the this character was not going to be following my instructions.

Ms. Nichols is a vivacious and independent woman. She works at the library with the missing woman and is able to give the detectives a lot of information. The first scene with Ms. Nichols is the longest scene in the book. She commandeers the interview and makes the detective, Lee, slightly uncomfortable. She makes no bones about that fact that she finds him attractive!

In a later scene, Ms. Nichols interrupts a a conversation between Katherine and “her handsome detective friend.” The librarian gives the team what she considers to be an important clue—a stack of books that the missing woman had checked out of the library. This interaction also results in my personal favorite line in the entire book, when Lee reveals that he isn’t a reader: “The librarian sounded deeply disappointed, as if her prince charming had just turned into a toad.”

I found this surprising twist on Ms. Nichols character to be a delightful diversion. I ended up being more pleased with how the story developed when I let Ms. Nichols have her own way with things rather than trying to force her into a mold. Near the end of the novel, I had an important clue that I needed the detectives to find. And I couldn’t think of a natural way for them to come across the missing phone number. I thought about this plot hole for a couple days. Then it hit me.

The phone number could be written on a post it note inside one of the books found by Ms. Nichols. And how would the detectives know to look for it?

Ms. Nichols would tell them, of course!

I had planned for Ms. Nichols to be a minor character, but I love the bigger role she has. And if readers love her as much as I do, I think there is a good chance that she will reappear in a future novel.

Carson Investigations Office

January 2008

Jake unwrapped the second half of his sandwich and watched Sammi pick at her salad. She’d been quieter than usual for about ten minutes now. Which meant she was building up to something.

She twirled her fork through the lettuce one more time, then set it down.

“So,” Sammi said, “I’ve been noticing something.”

“Yeah?” Jake took a bite, waiting.

“Lee can find patterns in data that anyone else would miss.” Sammi leaned back against the couch, her tone carefully casual. “Like that insurance fraud case last week? He pulled connection threads from three different databases that had nothing obviously linking them. It was amazing.”

Jake nodded. “He’s good at that.”

“That’s from his NSA days, right?” Sammi watched him closely. “All those years analyzing intelligence data?”

“Yes.” Jake could see exactly where this was going. Sammi knew about their history. The National Security Agency and Espionage Services Agency and Army Rangers.

“And you—” Sammi gestured at him with her fork. “You were Army Rangers, then the Espionage Services Agency, then NSA. You’re ridiculously good at finding people. Following them without being seen. And you still have all these contacts who can get you access to things faster than they should. Not illegal, just …”

“A lot of people owe me favors,” Jake said mildly.

“Right. Exactly.” Sammi sat forward now, her enthusiasm building. “So I’ve seen these special skills from Lee and from you. Skills from your former careers.” She paused, choosing her words. “But you both act like Katherine was better than both of you. Like she was the star operative or something.”

Jake set down his sandwich and gave Sammi his full attention.

“But she seems...” Sammi trailed off, clearly struggling with how to phrase it. “Normal? Like, she’s a great detective, don’t get me wrong. She’s smart and observant and clients trust her. But she doesn’t seem to do anything you and Lee don’t do.” She met his eyes. “So what am I missing?”

Jake studied her for a long moment. Sammi wasn’t prying for drama. This was genuine curiosity. Three months of paying close attention had earned her the right to ask.

Exactly what he and Margaret had hoped for when they’d convinced Katie to hire her. Give Katherine a student smart enough to see past the careful limits. Let her rediscover those parts of herself through mentoring. Katie would refuse, of course. So Jake had promised he’d do the training himself.

“Katie is anything but normal. She has skills.” Jake kept his voice even. “But she doesn’t like to tap into most of what she learned in her ESA days.”

“Why not?”

“She has her reasons.” Jake’s tone carried finality. “It’s not my story to tell.”

Sammi absorbed this, her analytical mind clearly working. “But you’re saying she could if she wanted to.”

“I’m saying Katie was the best operative I ever worked with in twenty years in intelligence.” Jake held her gaze. “And I worked with some exceptional people.”

“Better than you?”

“In the things that mattered most? Yes.” No hesitation. Just truth.

Sammi sat back, processing. “Okay,” she said finally. “Okay.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Sammi’s phone buzzed with a reminder about filing that needed to be finished by end of day.

“Back to the glamorous world of document organization,” she said with a dramatic sigh.

Jake smiled. “That’s what you signed up for.”

“I know, I know.” Sammi gathered her lunch containers. “Thanks, Jakey.”

“For what?”

“For taking the question seriously.” She headed back to her desk.

Jake finished his sandwich slowly, thinking.

The plan was working. Katherine had started “helping” within two weeks. Jake had watched her slowly engage more over the past three months. Explaining case strategies, teaching interview techniques, letting Sammi shadow her on client meetings. Small steps, but real ones.

Sammi was perfect. Young enough, new enough, that Katie could feel protective rather than defensive. Margaret’s former student, smart and passionate, asking to break into investigative work. Easy to convince Katie that training her was good for the business.

But Sammi deserved to see what he and Lee already knew. The woman organizing case files and conducting client interviews had capabilities that went far beyond standard detective work.

He just needed the right opportunity.

And actually ... he might have just the thing.

Jake stood from his desk at 4:30 and grabbed his jacket. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

Sammi looked up from the filing cabinet. “Show me what?”

“You’ll see.” He headed for the door. “I’ll drive you home after.”

Sammi’s eyes lit with curiosity as she grabbed her coat. “Okay.”

They drove fifteen minutes toward a warehouse district.

“You asked a fair question at lunch,” Jake said. “Deserved a real answer.”

Sammi turned to look at him, waiting.

“Most of what Katie still lets herself use looks like regular investigative work. Her instincts, intuition, reading people. She calls them detective skills.” He paused. “You wouldn’t notice she’s doing anything different.”

“But she is.”

“Yeah. She is. But what I’m about to show you… You’ll see why Lee and I know she’s better than us. Why we defer to her judgement.”

He pulled into the parking lot of Summit Rock Gym, a converted industrial building with high ceilings and large windows.

Inside, climbing walls stretched thirty feet high, covered in colorful holds. Ropes hung from the ceiling. A few climbers worked various routes, their movements careful and deliberate.

Jake walked through the main area without stopping. He stopped at the edge of the advanced section in the back and pointed toward the far wall.

Sammi followed his gaze.

Katherine stood at the base of what looked like the most difficult route in the gym—an overhang section with widely spaced holds, the kind that required serious upper body strength and problem-solving just to attempt. She wore athletic clothes, her hair pulled back, chalk dust on her hands. She was checking her harness with practiced efficiency.

“Is that—” Sammi started.

“Just watch,” Jake said quietly.

Katherine stepped up to the wall and studied the route for ten seconds, reading it the way other people read books. Then she reached for the first hold.

Sammi’s mouth fell open.

Katherine moved up the wall with impossible precision, her body flowing from hold to hold. She reached for grips that seemed too far apart, core strength pulling her across the overhang without hesitation. flexibility and power adapting to each challenge.

Jake had seen this hundreds of times. In controlled environments like this gym. In the field, where the stakes were life or death and the walls weren’t equipped with safety holds. He’d seen Katherine scale embassy walls, apartment buildings, warehouse exteriors. Places that weren’t meant to be climbed, finding handholds in brick and stone that other operatives swore didn’t exist.

It still amazed him every single time.

Because it wasn’t just physical capability. It was the way her mind worked. The spatial awareness. The ability to see solutions in spaces that looked impossible. Reading the wall three moves ahead, positioning for problems she hadn’t reached yet. She could read a vertical surface the same way she read people. Seeing patterns, connections, possibilities that others missed.

This was what he’d wanted Sammi to see. Not the operational skills Katie kept carefully hidden behind “detective work” labels. But this—something she still let herself enjoy. Something that showed what she was capable of when she stopped holding back.

Katherine reached the top of the route and tagged the final hold. Then she rappelled down with the same controlled grace, her movements economical and precise.

When her feet touched the ground, she unclipped from the rope and reached for her water bottle.

That’s when she saw them.

Jake watched Katherine go still for just a moment. He could see her read the situation. He’d deliberately brought their newest team member to watch her climb.

She knew exactly what he was doing.

Katherine walked over, wiping chalk dust from her hands, her blue eyes assessing both of them.

“Jake.” Her tone was carefully neutral. “Sammi.”

“Hey, Katie.” Jake smiled. “Thought I’d show Sammi the gym. She mentioned she likes climbing.”

“That was incredible,” Sammi breathed. “I’ve never seen anyone climb like that.”

“It’s just practice.” Katherine took a drink from her water bottle. “Years of practice.”

“That’s not just practice,” Sammi said. “That’s—that’s like professional level.”

Katherine shrugged, but a slight smile touched her face. “I’ve been climbing since I was a kid. My grandfather thought it would be fun.”

And it had been, Jake knew. One of the few things Katherine had chosen for herself, not for training. She’d turned it into an operational tool later, used it on missions across three continents, but climbing had always been hers first.

“Do you come here a lot?” Sammi asked.

“Two or three times a week.” Katherine’s posture relaxed another degree. “It’s good exercise. Keeps me sharp.”

“She’s being modest,” Jake said, meeting Katherine’s eyes. Letting her know this was intentional. “Katie could probably teach the instructors here.”

Katherine shot him a look, but she didn’t contradict him. Didn’t shut it down.

That was permission. Or at least acceptance.

“I should get back to it,” Katherine said. “I’ve got another route to finish.”

“We won’t distract you.” Jake gestured to the seating area.

Katherine nodded and headed back to the wall. Within moments, she was climbing a different route, equally challenging.

Jake gave Sammi time to process. Katherine’s strength and grace, the problem-solving happening in real-time, capabilities that went far beyond recreational athletics.

“This is what you meant,” Sammi said quietly. “About skills.”

“One of them,” Jake confirmed. “Infiltration. Getting into places that should be impossible to access.” He paused, watching Katherine navigate a section that would have stopped most climbers cold. “Climbing’s one of the few things Katie still enjoys from those days.”

Sammi continued tracking Katherine’s progress up the wall. “Why this one? Why not the other skills?”

Jake considered how to answer that. “Because climbing’s just climbing. It doesn’t require her to be someone she’s afraid to be.”

Katherine was at the top of the route now, tagging the final hold with one hand, her body balanced perfectly against the overhang.

She finished the route and started a third one. Jake watched her climb. Up on the wall, Katherine was whole. No carefully acceptable pieces. Just all of her, the way she was supposed to be.

And she was letting Sammi see. She could have stopped. Made an excuse, left. Instead, she was climbing a third route.

“Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s get you home.”

Jake drove through the early evening traffic toward Sammi’s home.

“You and Margaret and Lee, you’re trying to help her remember who she was. Before,” Sammi said quietly.

Sharp kid.

“Yeah.” Jake pulled up in front of the Garcia house. “She’s told herself that detective skills are acceptable, operative skills get buried. We think it’s time she stopped splitting herself in half.”

Sammi unbuckled her seatbelt. “Jake? How good was she? Really. In her ESA days.”

Jake met her eyes. “The best I ever saw.”

Sammi nodded and got out.

Jake watched her head inside, then pulled back onto the road. Katie would have questions tomorrow. About the gym, about Sammi, about what he was trying to accomplish.

And he’d answer honestly.

Because small steps toward Katherine whole again, not hiding half of herself because she thought using those skills betrayed Daniel’s memory.

That was worth whatever lecture he’d get tomorrow.

My father passed away on September 1st after a battle with cancer. Three weeks later, I found myself sitting behind a table at the Midway Fall Festival. My books were arranged just so, but I struggled to remember how to talk to strangers about murder mysteries when all I could think about was death. The real kind, not the fictional kind I write about.

I was a zombie. I didn’t talk to the other authors. Sold maybe two books. And I don’t even remember the drive home.

If you’re a creative who’s experienced loss, you know this feeling. The world expects you to keep showing up. Book launches don’t reschedule themselves. Marketing plans don’t pause for heartbreak. And there’s this weird guilt that creeps in about trying to separate work from personal stuff.

Turns out, that’s not how grief works.

Early November, I did it again. An author room at a local craft fair with my Bluegrass Writer Coalition friends. This event was great business for me last year. I knew all the authors there, so I should have felt comfortable. I didn’t. The grief was still too raw. I hadn’t really started writing again, just some planning and an article or two. I sat with my books and tried to engage, but I was still underwater. Still masking to get by. Still not myself.

That’s when it hit me: grief doesn’t follow a marketing calendar. We put so much pressure on ourselves to “bounce back,” stay productive, or not let people down.

Then came Boston Crime Bake in early November. A mystery conference I’d been looking forward to, before my dad got sick. A dear friend drove me (I don’t fly), and we made it a road trip. Sightseeing before and after, just the two of us and her five-year-old son, whom I adore.

And something shifted.

Maybe it was being far from home, away from the constant reminders. Maybe it was being forced to listen to K-Pop Demon Hunters soundtrack for the first time.

But I think it was networking with other authors who didn’t know my story. No sympathetic looks, no assumptions, or preconceptions. Sometimes I feel more confident around people I’ve never met before. And interacting with other authors who share my fascination with poisons and art theft? That’s a special kind of inspiration.

The workshops pulled my brain back into mystery author mode instead of grieving daughter mode. The grief came with me, riding along quietly, but for the first time in weeks it wasn’t the only thing taking up space in my head. Spending almost a week with my best friend and her son away from home helped more than I expected.

When Writing Returns
(But Not the Way You Expected)

When I got home from that trip, I discovered that I wanted to write again.

The problem was what I wanted to write wasn’t the book I’d promised readers for January. You know, Beyond Tarnish, book three in the Carson Crime Files series. The one people are waiting for.

Instead, I found myself working on character backstory, a novelette, and other story ideas. It was enjoyable but scattered, and I kept avoiding the main project because the story I’d already plotted involves Katherine reliving the trauma of her parents’ deaths.

My dad didn’t die in the Colombian jungle when I was nine years old. But trauma is trauma, loss is loss, and sometimes fiction gets a little too close to reality. Even when the details are completely different. I just couldn’t bring myself to write the scenes I’d already outlined, not yet.

December 6th. Franklin County Band Booster event with my Bluegrass Writers Coalition friends.

This was the first author event since my father’s passing where I actually felt like myself. I enjoyed talking to people and genuinely wanted to share my books with them. The conversations with other authors felt natural instead of something I had to force myself through.

Small victory, but it showed me something I needed to see. Grief doesn’t stay at that initial overwhelming intensity forever. It starts to integrate, becomes part of your life instead of the thing that’s swallowing it whole.

The grief isn’t gone. It isn’t going anywhere. This holiday season is going to be rough. But I’m figuring out how to give myself more grace and work outside the lines I’d drawn for myself.

This is why I’m glad I chose to self-publish. Traditional publishing has its upsides, but flexibility isn’t really one of them. When you’re indie, you can adjust publication dates, be honest with readers about where you are, honor both your commitments and your need to be human about things.

So will I finish Beyond Tarnish by January 2025?

Ask me next month.

Here’s what I can tell you: when it comes, it’s going to be worth the wait. I’m not rushing, I’m not forcing words onto the page, and I’m writing from a place where the grief informs my work instead of overshadowing it. Katherine’s journey through trauma and healing means something different to me now than it did when I first outlined this third novel.

For Anyone Marketing Through Heartbreak

If you’re trying to promote your work while your heart is breaking, here’s what I want you to know:

You’re not failing. Grief and creativity don’t follow the same timeline. That’s okay.

Show up in whatever capacity you can. Some days that’s a full book signing. Some days it’s posting on social media. Some days it’s just not deleting your author accounts. Showing up while struggling actually is the productivity. All of it counts.

Give yourself permission to adjust. Deadlines aren’t more important than your mental health. Readers who matter will understand. And the ones who don’t are not your people anyway.

Find what helps your brain shift gears. For me, it was a conference away from home. For you, it might be something completely different. Trust yourself to know what you need.

Work on what calls to you. Even if it’s not the “right” project. Sometimes character backstory or a random novelette is exactly the creative energy you can handle. Honor that.

The strange dissonance of marketing books while grieving is real. You’re not imagining it, and you’re not alone in feeling it. Being present in whatever way you can manage is actually enough. We don’t have to choose between honoring our grief and honoring our creative work.

We can hold both. Imperfectly. With grace.

What about you? Have you navigated the challenge of maintaining your creative career during a season of loss? I’d love to hear how you handled both the struggles and the small victories.

This wasn't because I was squeamish about writing murder, or because I couldn't think of a good killing. It was because I wanted to prove something to myself and to readers about what crime fiction could be.

Most crime in real life doesn't involve murder. People embezzle money, commit fraud, engage in corporate espionage, run elaborate cons, and break hearts along with laws. These crimes have real victims and serious consequences, but they don't end with someone in a body bag. So why do so many mysteries default to murder?

The Non-Murder Experiment

"The Scheme" was my attempt to explore the vast landscape of crime beyond homicide. I wanted Katherine Carson's first recorded case to showcase different detective skills like pattern recognition, deductive reasoning, and good old fashioned persistence.

The Scheme dealt with fraud, identity theft, and financial manipulation. The stakes were high—people's life savings, their sense of security, their ability to trust—but nobody died. Katherine could use her interrogation skills to uncover lies, her investigation experience to follow complex paper trails, and her team's diverse expertise to solve a puzzle that was no less intricate for lacking a corpse.

I loved writing that story. It felt fresh and different, and it proved that Katherine Carson could anchor a compelling mystery without anyone getting murdered.

But reader reactions were... mixed.

Here’s what I learned from The Scheme: mystery readers carry decades of genre training, and bucking those expectations comes with a cost.

Some readers embraced the unconventional approach, but an equal number kept anticipating the body drop. They’d been conditioned by countless mystery novels to expect specific escalations, particular stakes. When those elements never showed up, some readers were disappointed.

“Well it isn’t a murder mystery,” I’d respond, but the explanation didn’t erase the disconnect. Readers choose mysteries anticipating specific thrills, particular flavors of danger. When you intentionally deny those elements, you’re asking them to reset their mental framework halfway through.

Their reaction isn’t unreasonable. Genre fiction works partly because of its reliable expectations. Romance readers crave the relationship payoff. Thriller readers hunt for adrenaline-pumping sequences. Mystery readers want the ultimate puzzle: who killed whom and why?

Why Framed Needed a Body

I always planned for Book 2 to be a murder mystery. Because like many readers, I am a fan of all the murder mystery tropes.

More importantly, Katherine’s character arc demanded it. As a former intelligence operative who lost her husband Daniel to violence, Katherine needed to confront the ultimate crime. Her grief, her guilt, and her determination to protect other widows like Misty Vanderlin—all of these elements required the gravity that only murder provides.

Writing murder mysteries versus non-murder crime fiction presents distinct challenges. With The Scheme, I had to work harder to maintain tension without the ticking clock of a killer on the loose. I had to make financial crimes feel as urgent as physical danger. I had to create emotional stakes that matched traditional mysteries' life-and-death situations.

With Framed, I faced different obstacles. How do you make a murder feel fresh in a genre saturated with bodies? How do you honor reader expectations while still surprising them? How do you balance the familiar pleasure of a classic whodunit with your own desire to innovate?

The answer came in the form of a specific setting and a unique character backstory. Katherine's espionage background and the art world's sophisticated facade let me give Framed distinctive elements within the familiar murder mystery structure.

What I've learned is that series evolution is about finding the balance between reader expectations and innovative thinking. The Scheme proved I could write compelling crime fiction without defaulting to murder. Framed proved I could write murder mysteries that felt personal and fresh.

As I plan future books, I'm not limiting myself to either murder or non-murder crimes. Some cases will demand bodies; others will demand different stakes entirely. What matters is matching the crime to the story Katherine needs to tell.

After all, the best mysteries aren't just about meeting genre expectations.

They're about exceeding them.

Happy Reading! Amethyst Drake

Award Announcement

You’ve heard it, right? Maybe in a writing workshop, or from that well-meaning friend who read your first draft. It is probably on of the most common pieces of writing advice I’ve come across. In my opinion, it is also one of the most limiting pieces of advice ever given to writers.

If I'd followed that rule strictly, Katherine Carson would be solving mysteries in rural Kentucky. Stolen tractors. Property line disputes. Maybe the occasional heated argument at the church potluck.

Don’t get me wrong—those could make great stories. But they aren’t my stories.

“Write what you know.”

You’ve heard it, right? Maybe in a writing workshop, or from that well-meaning friend who read your first draft. I heard it constantly when I started writing the Katherine Carson mysteries, and honestly? It nearly stopped me before I began.

Here’s the thing: if I’d taken that advice literally, Katherine would be solving mysteries in rural Kentucky. Stolen tractors. Property line disputes. Maybe the occasional heated argument at the county fair.

Don’t get me wrong—those could make great stories. But they weren’t my stories.

What kept calling to me was something completely different. Sophisticated art galleries. Complex urban neighborhoods. International intrigue unfolding in a major port city. All the things I didn’t know firsthand.

And Baltimore? Baltimore fit perfectly.

And I’m sitting here in my home office in Shelbyville, Kentucky, wondering if I’m completely delusional for trying to write about a city I don’t live in.

The Advantage of Outsider Perspective

Sometimes geographic distance can actually work for you if you approach it right.

Think about it. When you’ve lived somewhere your whole life, you stop seeing it. That quirky building on the corner? You don’t notice it anymore. The way people talk, the local traditions, the weird little details that make a place unique—they all fade into background noise.

But as an outsider? Those details practically glow.

As a small-town writer exploring Baltimore, I notice details that locals might take for granted. The way historic rowhouses sit right next to sleek modern buildings. How each neighborhood has its own complete personality—like they’re different cities entirely. The contrast between the polished Inner Harbor and the grittier industrial waterfront. These observations become crucial atmospheric details in my mysteries.

Walking through Fells Point’s cobblestone streets for the first time, I felt the maritime history. When I stumbled into Lexington Market, overwhelmed by the noise and energy and dozens of vendors all talking at once, I suddenly understood how information travels through informal networks in a city. And my Kentucky perspective makes those big city quirks stand out to me even more.

After I’ve experienced a place, I sit down and write everything I remember. What did it feel like to walk those streets? What sounds stayed with me? How did the afternoon light hit the buildings? What smells made me turn my head?

These sensory details are what make settings feel real. And they only come from actually being there.

Layered Research Strategies

Of course, being a tourist isn’t enough. (I wish it were—that would make my life easier.) I’ve developed what I call “layered research,” which is probably a fancy term for “obsessively learning everything.”

Neighborhood Deep Dives: I research each Baltimore neighborhood's history, demographics, and character. Mt. Vernon’s historic mansions suggest completely different story possibilities than Canton’s maritime heritage or Upton’s community arts scene. When I understand these distinctions, I can place characters and conflicts where they actually belong, not just where it’s convenient for my plot.

Right now, for Beyond Tarnish (coming this January!), I’m deep into researching the neighborhood where Sammi’s family lives. Because when your character’s family comes under scrutiny, you need to understand not just the house, but the whole community context. What do the neighbors notice? What gets talked about? How does reputation work in that specific area?

Did I mention I have spreadsheets for this? Because I absolutely have spreadsheets.

Local Resources: I read Baltimore newspapers, follow local blogs, and study city websites to understand current issues and concerns. What are locals talking about? What challenges does the city face? What makes locals roll their eyes?

This context is the difference between characters who feel like they live in Baltimore and characters who are obviously tourists in disguise.

Professional Consultation: When Katherine investigates within specific industries or institutions, I research those environments thoroughly. For Framed, which is set in the art world, I went down a rabbit hole learning about gallery operations, authentication processes, how the business side of fine art actually works. I’ve also researched police procedures, private investigation licensing requirements, corporate structures—anything that touches the story.

Historical Context: Setting my books in 2009 requires understanding how Baltimore looked and felt then, not just how it appears now. I research everything from what restaurants were operating to how technology was used to what social issues were prominent.

I once spent two hours trying to figure out if a specific coffee shop existed in 2009. This is my life now.

Sensory Details: Writing about an unfamiliar place is honestly, terrifying at first. Vague descriptions fool no one. But precise, researched details convince readers you know what you're talking about.

When Katherine Carson walks through the Walters Art Museum, I can describe specific galleries because I’ve stood in them. When she navigates neighborhoods, I use real street names because I’ve walked them. When she interacts with institutions, I understand how they actually operate because I’ve done the research.

Each accurate detail builds trust. And that trust makes readers believe the next plot point, and the next one, and the story I’m trying to tell.

Why I’m Glad I Didn’t Listen to “Write What You Know”

Writing outside your geographic experience requires extra work. I won’t lie about that.

But it’s rewarding work.

Every research trip feels like an adventure. Every local detail I discover feels like treasure. Every authentic moment I capture on the page feels like a small victory. And right now, as I’m drafting scenes where Sammi’s world gets turned upside down in Beyond Tarnish, every new piece of Baltimore I understand helps me write her story more truthfully.

Limiting myself to only familiar settings would mean limiting my storytelling possibilities. Katherine Carson belongs in Baltimore not because I’m from there, but because that’s where her stories need to unfold.

Facts matter. But emotional accuracy matters more.

Readers don’t need every single street name to be real (though some should be). They don’t need a perfect map of the city. What they need is to feel like they’re experiencing an authentic place.

So I focus on capturing Baltimore’s personality. Its blend of sophistication and grit. The fierce neighborhood pride. The maritime heritage woven through everything. The artistic soul.

These atmospheric elements? Way more important than perfect geographic precision.

Of course, I still fact-check obsessively. But when I have to choose between emotional truth and factual precision, emotional truth wins.

Don’t let “write what you know” stop you from writing the stories that call to you. Because “what you know” can expand. It just takes curiosity, respect, and a willingness to do the work.

After all, good research can take you anywhere.

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Not the immediate aftermath when everything is surreal chaos. Not the strange limbo of waiting for the death certificate to arrive.

I’m talking about week three. Week four. Everyone else’s life has resumed its normal rhythm. But yours is still stuck in some kind of underwater version of reality.

My dad died exactly one month ago today. I thought I knew what to expect.

Turns out losing a parent is nothing like any grief I’ve experienced before.

Time does the weirdest things

Here’s what nobody tells you: time doesn’t move forward after this kind of loss. It moves sideways. Sometimes backward. Occasionally it doesn’t move at all.

You have moments where you forget entirely. You reach for your phone to text them about something they’d find funny. Three full seconds pass before the reality slams back in, and you feel like an idiot. How could you forget?

Other times you’re so acutely aware of their absence, the weight of it makes your chest physically hurt. You’re in the middle of something completely mundane (unloading the dishwasher, answering an email, cutting your toenails) and the reality hits you fresh.

Dad’s not here. He’ll never be here again.

Your brain will try to make deals it can’t keep

I keep catching myself doing this thing where I mentally try to postpone my grief.

“I’ll really process this after I finish this deadline.”

“I’ll deal with these feelings once we have the memorial.”

“I’ll make space for this later.”

As if grief will politely wait until you have your calendar cleared and a box of tissues ready and the perfect therapist on speed dial.

Spoiler: it does not wait.

It shows up at 2 PM on a Tuesday when you’re trying to write a scene about your detective solving a murder. It arrives during a conversation with a friend about nothing important. It crashes your morning ritual and your evening TV time and the moment when you’re brushing your teeth and catch your own eyes in the mirror.

Grief doesn’t care about your schedule. Which is ironic, because my dad’s illness and sudden loss completely knocked me off mine.

“But I’ve done grief before”

I have. I really have.

I’ve lost people I loved. I’ve felt the hollow ache, navigated the early weeks, learned how to carry loss and keep living. I thought I had a map for this territory.

And maybe I do have a map. But it’s a map of a completely different country.

Losing a parent isn’t just “more grief” or “bigger grief.” It’s an entirely different species of loss. It’s the person who was always there, even before you existed, suddenly not there anymore. Parenthood, even from the child’s side, runs so deep that losing Dad has carved out new spaces inside me I didn’t know existed.

Your relationship with them changes but doesn’t end

This might be the most disorienting part.

He’s gone. Physically, actually, permanently gone. I know this. The evidence is overwhelming.

And yet.

I still think about what he’d say about various situations. When I figure something out or solve a problem or think of a creative solution, part of my brain still wants to tell him about it.

He was proud of me. Of my writing career, my books, all of it. He wasn’t a reader himself, but he was so proud. He was constantly sending links to my books and my website to his friends and contacts, letting them know about my publishing journey. And somehow that pride is still... here? Still real…even though he isn’t here. Still a thing I can feel and draw strength from.

I don’t know how that works. How someone can be completely absent and still somehow present. But it’s happening, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

This is what the first month actually is

It’s not healing. Let’s be clear about that.

It’s not finding closure or reaching acceptance or arriving at peace. It’s not successfully processing your feelings or completing any kind of emotional arc.

It’s survival. It’s waking up every day and figuring out how to exist in a world that suddenly has a person-shaped hole in it. It’s doing the laundry and answering emails and sometimes even writing a few pages, not because you feel better, but because the world keeps requiring things from you regardless of your grief.

It’s crying in the kitchen. It’s having one good hour followed by three terrible ones. It’s texting friends back with “I’m okay” when you’re definitely not, because explaining the truth feels like too many words.

It’s also laughing at something funny and then feeling guilty for laughing. It’s having moments of genuine peace followed immediately by waves of sorrow. It’s both missing him desperately and feeling him somehow close at the same time.

The first month is a mess. There’s no other word for it.

And maybe that’s okay. Maybe the mess is exactly what it’s supposed to be.

Mostly I’m learning that there’s no right way to do this. No timeline. No checklist. No moment where you suddenly graduate from “grieving person” back to “regular person.”

You just keep going. You keep writing, keep working, keep existing. Some days that feels like strength. Other days it just feels like Wednesday.

Both are fine.

So here’s my question for you: If you’ve been through grief, what surprised you most about those early weeks? What did you wish someone had told you? I’m still figuring this out, and I’d love to hear your experiences.

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We gathered to celebrate the release of my newest mystery, FRAMED, and what a celebration it was! Around 30 wonderful people showed up to help me mark this milestone. My heart did a little happy dance every time someone approached the signing table. We sold 48 books!

The Perfect Mix of Mystery and Merriment

The afternoon had all the essentials: cookies, a well-stocked charcuterie spread, and plenty of laughter throughout the space.

A slideshow of photos from my recent research trip to Baltimore played in the background—travel often sparks ideas for my stories, and Baltimore certainly delivered. Several readers struck up conversations about the photos, especially the ones from the Walter's Art Museum, where I saw the actual painting that's featured on the cover of FRAMED. Standing in front of that artwork in person, knowing it would be part of my book's cover, was definitely one of those author moments. It was fun discussing the connection between the art, the city, and the story with people who were curious about the research process.

The Best Kind of Reader Conversations

One of the highlights of the afternoon was talking with readers who had already read my first book and were excited for this next adventure. There's great energy when someone is genuinely invested in your characters and wants to know what happens next. These conversations reminded me why I enjoy writing mysteries: crafting puzzles that keep people guessing and hopefully surprising them with the resolution.

I also enjoyed meeting new readers who were discovering my work for the first time. Watching someone flip through FRAMED, read the back cover, and decide to give a new author a try never gets old. Each new reader is a new opportunity to share the stories I've been working on.

And then there was the jigsaw puzzle.

You know that feeling when you're confident about something, and then reality hits? That was me with this puzzle. The pieces were impossibly tiny and we spent more time squinting than solving. But nobody seemed to mind that we didn't finish it.

Gratitude and What's Next

To everyone who came out on Sunday—thank you. Whether you've been reading my mysteries from the beginning or picked up FRAMED as your first adventure with my characters, your support means a lot. It was great seeing familiar faces and meeting new readers.

If you missed the party but want to get your hands on FRAMED, you can find it at amethystdrake.com/framed or anywhere books are sold in both ebook and paperback formats. And if you're in the area this Saturday, July 26th, I'll be at the Mulberry Orchard in Shelbyville, KY from 9-3 for their Peach Festival! There will be peach picking, vendors, and of course, more books to sign. It's going to be a beautiful way to spend a summer Saturday, and I'd love to see you there.

Stay tuned—I'm already plotting what comes next, and I have a feeling you're going to love where the story goes.

Here's to more mysteries, more celebrations, and hopefully jigsaw puzzles with more reasonably-sized pieces.

Happy reading!

Amethyst Drake

What was your favorite part of a book launch event you've attended? I love hearing about the moments that make these celebrations special!

Five. Days.

I should be purely excited. This is what I've worked toward, dreamed about, and stressed over for months. Katherine Carson's second adventure is finally ready to meet the world. But instead of pure happiness, I'm feeling that familiar cocktail of excitement and terror that every author knows well.

Is this what book launches are supposed to feel like? Like you're simultaneously celebrating and preparing for potential emotional devastation?

The Milestone That Feels Surreal

There's something surreal about watching your book baby grow up and prepare to leave home. When I finished writing "Framed," I had that fleeting illusion that the hard part was over. I'd crafted Katherine Carson's most deadly case, woven together all the clues and red herrings, and delivered what I hoped was a satisfying resolution to the mystery. I'd done the research, checked my facts about Baltimore's art scene and 2009 technology, and polished every sentence until it gleamed.

But finishing a manuscript is just the beginning of an entirely different kind of emotional journey.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of final details—cover approvals, marketing copy, advance reader copies going out into the world. Each step brings me closer to July 15th, and each step ratchets up both the excitement and the anxiety.

The Vulnerable Space Between "Done" and "Published"

There's this weird liminal space that exists between completing your book and having readers actually hold it in their hands. It's where I've been living for weeks now, and honestly? It's exhausting.

In this space, every decision feels monumental. Cover design? What if readers don't connect with the visual? Final proofread? What if there's still a typo hiding somewhere? Marketing copy? What if I've described my own book wrong?

But the biggest fear, the one that keeps me up at night, is simpler and more terrifying: What if no one connects with Katherine's story?

I've poured so much of myself into this book. Katherine's grief over losing her husband Daniel mirrors real emotions about loss and resilience. Her determination to prove Misty Vanderlin's innocence comes from a deep belief in justice that I share. Her team—Jake, Lee, and Sammi—represents the kind of support system I'm blessed to have in my own life.

When you put that much of yourself into something, waiting for the world's reaction feels like walking into a crowded room where everyone stops talking to stare.

Small Wins and Taco Rewards

This is where my wonderful network of friends and family comes in—particularly their commitment to feeding me tacos during stressful times.

My husband has been my steady anchor through this whole process, celebrating every tiny milestone with the enthusiasm usually reserved for major life events. Finished the final edit? Taco celebration. Cover approved? Taco celebration. Advanced reader copies arrive? You guessed it—tacos.

It might sound silly, but these small celebrations have been lifesavers. In the long, anxious stretch between finishing a book and releasing it, you need reasons to acknowledge progress. You need moments that say, "Yes, this thing you're doing matters, and yes, you're moving forward."

Lessons from Launch Anxiety

What have I learned in these final weeks before "Framed" releases?

First, vulnerability is not weakness. Putting your work out into the world requires a kind of courage that I'm still learning to recognize in myself. Every author who has ever published anything has stood in this same terrifying, exhilarating place.

Second, celebration doesn't have to wait for the "big" moments. The small wins—finishing a challenging scene, solving a plot problem, getting positive feedback from beta readers—deserve recognition too. And if that recognition involves Mexican food, even better.

Third, community matters more than I ever realized. Writing can be a solitary pursuit, but publishing is definitely a team sport. From my husband's unwavering support to friends who show up with cheese dip during emotional moments, I couldn't do this alone.

The Launch Party Light at the End of the Tunnel

Speaking of community, I'm incredibly excited about our book launch party on July 20th at the Comfort Inn and Suites right here in Shelbyville, Kentucky. There's something special about celebrating this milestone in my own hometown, surrounded by the people who've supported this journey from the very beginning.

Planning this party has been its own kind of celebration. Every detail—from choosing the venue to thinking about what to say when I address the crowd—reminds me that this is really happening. "Framed" is going to exist in the world, and people are going to read it.

Looking Forward (With Cautious Optimism and Strategic Taco Planning)

In five days, "Framed" will be out in the world, and Katherine Carson will belong as much to readers as she does to me. The anxiety isn't going anywhere, but neither is the excitement, the gratitude, or the deep satisfaction of knowing I've told a story I believe in.

And you know what? I think we'll probably celebrate the actual release day with tacos too. Maybe by October (when my birthday rolls around), I'll have heard from enough readers to know whether Katherine's latest case resonated the way I hope it will.

Until then, I'm embracing the nerves, celebrating the small victories, and trusting that the people who love mysteries will find something to love in "Framed."

Here's to launch week, supportive communities, and the people who show up with food when you need it most.

Until next time, stay curious,

Amethyst Drake

The first time I heard this question, I struggled to answer it. Can anyone relate?

Um…I just get ideas out of my imagination…

Of course, I said, “Mostly from real life,” because that’s what everyone says, right? But to be honest, I’d never given it any thought. I’ve been telling stories in some form for longer than I can remember. I had never thought about how the ideas come; I’ve just trusted they’d be there.

So, where exactly do I get my ideas?

It turns out that imagination, or the faculty to create ideas and visualize possibilities, comes from a region of the brain called the hippocampus. This region of the brain is responsible for creating memories. And according to scientists, ‘imagination depends largely, if not exclusively, on memory.” [1]

My brains takes bits and pieces of information, memories about the world and my experiences in it, and assembles them into a stream of ideas, possibilities, and potential outcomes. This process happens so quickly and seamlessly that it is practically unconscious.

For example, one of the major characters in my book is Sammi, a recent college graduate who wants to become a detective. She is bubbly, bright, and passionate. Her personality and motivations came to me pretty much all at once. I made a tweak here or there, but for the most part I didn’t have to “come up with” a character. She just is who she is.

But when I took time to break this character down further, I made an interesting discovery. She has the personality of one of my best friends from college. She has the ethnicity and positive outlook of one of my favorite celebrities. And she has the same enneagram number and motivation as another friend.

In Sammi’s case, I did not consciously think, “Hmm…what if I make a character with Amber’s personality and Rachel’s motivations?” My imagination took these bits of information from my memory and rearranged them until a character that resonated with me and my story popped out, fully baked!

For other characters, the thought process was more intentional. But at the end of the day, my ideas came from the process of my imagination and memory working together to generate characters, relationships, situations, locations, and plot points that I could incorporate into a novel.

So, if imagination and memory are so important for generating ideas, then we can cultivate creativity by feeding our memory and stretching our imagination. Here are a few examples of things that contribute to my memory, imagination, and creativity:

Trying new things

New experiences can spark creativity because it triggers new connections in our brains. Try cooking a new recipe, take a dance class, or pick up an instrument. Even if the experience is a flop, it creates a memory that our imagination can use later to generate new ideas. You never know when a new skill could make its way into a novel.

Exploring the World

Travel, visit an unfamiliar neighborhood, or read a book about someone else’s adventures! The more things you see and learn, the more raw material your imagination will have to turn into ideas. I love incorporating details from my travels into my fictional world to add depth and realism.

People-Watching

I love to see how people interact with each other and the world around them. I often find myself imagining the stories behind the people I see. Who are they? Where are they going? What are they thinking? People-watching lets me collect an endless supply of emotions, motivations, and quirks. Mixing my observations and imagination enables me to create new, complex characters or scenes in my novels.

Family Storytelling

Family dynamics are universal. Relationships within a family can bring out the best and the worst in us, often at the same time. I love the kind of stories that begin with, “Did I ever tell you about the time...?” These stories are usually full of humor, conflict, and unexpected twists. Our messy, complicated relationships shape who we are. By weaving elements of these stories into my work, I aim to craft story arcs that resonate with readers on a personal level.

Listening

People are fountains of information. Ask questions about someone’s job. Listen to their opinions. Showing a genuine interest in someone else is great for your relationships, AND for collecting tidbits your imagination can assemble into an idea later.

Bonus tip: Watch a TV show or listen to a podcast to hear other people’s stories from a variety of perspectives.

Writing

Last but not least, practice writing. Put those ideas to use. Let your imagination run wild, making connections that don’t seem possible and writing stories that no one will ever see. The more you let your mind think creatively, the easier it will become to make connections between disparate bits of information. Those connections are what we like to call ideas.

Check out my novel at amethystdrake.com and drop a comment to connect!

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Sources:

[1] Wickelgren, Ingrid. ‘Where Imagination Lives in Your Brain.’ June 8, 2023. Scientific American. Retrieved 11/22/2024 from https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/where-imagination-lives-in-your-brain/

When I started writing my first mystery novel, I had a clear vision of my characters. I had more ideas for clues, plots, and twists than I could ever fit into one book. I felt confident in my writing skills and had plenty of free time to invest in the project.

But I was missing one key element: the setting.

A good story can be placed in any setting and still be a good story. But the setting is an important element of a book—it's the stage for the action! While the plot and characters drive the story, the setting adds a unique flavor to the novel and can create an immersive experience for the reader.

My plans include several books in the same series, so the setting deserved some serious thought and research. I needed a versatile place to be a living backdrop for action, intrigue, and character growth. But how could I narrow it down? Out of all the cities in the world, which one would fit the story I wanted to tell?

I started by thinking about the feeling I wanted to evoke for readers.

I pictured a city with history, charm, and a strong community. A place where my characters' lives could intersect in both personal and professional ways. I live in a close-knit community, and I wanted to give my characters those kinds of ties.

On the other hand, my main characters have ties to the U.S. Intelligence Community, so my story needed a major city with the potential for espionage themes. To me, that meant a coastal city. I wanted the freedom to weave in storylines of international intrigue, secret ports, and coastal escapes.

When I think of a big city with a small-town feel, Baltimore, Maryland, is the first place that comes to mind. My husband and I have visited Baltimore many times, and it has become our favorite cruise port. There’s something special about the city—its history, waterfront charm, diverse culture, and close-knit community drew me in.

As I researched this possible setting, I found that a historical figure, fictionally related to my main character, is buried in Baltimore. That sealed the deal. I remember jumping up from my computer, running to my husband’s office, and spilling all the details. I talked so fast he probably only caught half of it, but he got the gist. There’s no feeling quite like the moment when everything clicks.

Baltimore’s neighborhoods are full of personality, and that sense of community was exactly what I wanted to capture. Even though it’s a major city, it feels like the kind of place where you might run into someone you know. Each neighborhood has its own unique vibe, and I can’t wait to explore them further in my books. The bonus is that my fictional main character now has historical roots in Baltimore.

Once I had the location nailed down, I had half of my setting decided. Next, I turned to the question of time.

I’ve always loved TV detective dramas set in the 1960s and 70s, with their dated technology and slower pace. But I wasn’t sure I could make that era relatable.

I didn’t want to dive into the ultra-modern world of cutting-edge technology, politics, and post-pandemic challenges either.

I kept moving my story forward and backward in time until I settled on 2009. The process was all trial and error, but once the era clicked, the setting finally felt right.

The late 2000s had a particular energy—things were shifting, but not as rapidly as they are today. That pacing felt right for my story. Setting the book 15 years in the past gave me enough distance from the present to create a world that feels different yet familiar. It also presented a fun challenge. While it’s not exactly historical fiction, it required research to capture the details. I’ve enjoyed revisiting that time: smartphones were becoming more common, but they weren’t yet indispensable. The iPhone 3GS had just been released, and while phones were used for more than calls and texts, they hadn’t fully integrated into every aspect of life.

This limited technology was perfect for the espionage elements of my novel. It allowed me to play with the tension between old-school spycraft and the rapidly advancing digital world.

Beyond technology, 2009 was a time shaped by economic uncertainty. The aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis influenced many people’s lives, and that instability plays a key role in The Scheme. It drives my private detective to take on a case outside her comfort zone and adds layers of complexity to other characters’ motivations.

Writing this book has been an adventure. Baltimore in 2009 provided the perfect canvas—a city with rich history, vibrant culture, and a sense of connection. The era offered just enough distance from the present to create a unique space for the story to unfold. I hope readers enjoy the setting and time period as much as I’ve enjoyed bringing them to life.

Fellow fiction authors, how did you choose the setting for your story? I love seeing behind the scenes of others writing process!

Fiction readers, what kind of setting is your favorite? Small town, big city, deep in the woods or something else entirely? Do you like books set in the past, present, or future?

Let me know in the comments!

Amethyst Drake

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I write mysteries because I love mysteries! I've always enjoyed reading mysteries and watching TV crime drama. Now as a writer, I love the thrill of crafting intricate puzzles that keep readers guessing. I also love exploring the complex motivations and interactions of the characters. The genre is a balance between engaging the reader and keeping them on their toes. It’s a challenge to weave a logical yet unpredictable plot, but it's incredibly rewarding when everything comes together, creating that "aha" moment that mystery lovers crave.

Writing in the mystery genre is a fun adventure. The challenges and rewards of this genre create an interesting balance. By understanding these elements, we can see why so many people love to write mysteries.

One of the best things about writing mysteries is crafting intricate plots and clever clues. Telling the story is only part of the job. Each word is a building block, carefully placed to engage minds and misdirect attention. Mystery readers want to become sleuths, piecing together the puzzle along with the characters. It's very rewarding to craft a puzzle that challenges and hooks readers. But the same complexity that makes mysteries engaging can also be overwhelming. Crafting a tight, logical plot requires a lot of time and mental energy. Finding the balance between clues, consistency, and red herrings can be taxing. Every small detail needs to fit together to maintain the story's integrity, which can be a significant time investment. This is even more true when writing a series.

Another great thing about writing mysteries is exploring complex characters. An investigation often reveals hidden motives and conflict. Characters play a key role in the mystery, and their personal struggles and secrets add depth to the story. Mysteries thrive on the element of surprise. The genre lets you create twists that redefine the story and shock your readers. These surprises aren't just plot devices—they're woven into the fabric of the story, creating aha moments that (hopefully) connect with readers.

Despite its many advantages, the mystery genre does come with some risks. If not handled carefully, mysteries can become formulaic and predictable, leading to disengaged readers. The challenge lies in avoiding clichés and stereotypes. It's a struggle to find the balance between including the tropes we love and making the story fresh and original.

One of the best rewards of writing mysteries is the passionate and loyal readership that the genre attracts. Mystery fans love new challenges and complex stories. Readers' anticipation and engagement can be a strong motivator. It makes the writing process more fulfilling. But this devotion comes with a set of expectations. Mystery readers often look for certain tropes and formulas, which can sometimes restrict creativity. Readers expect a coherent and satisfying conclusion where every plot thread is tied up neatly. These expectations can be very stressful, especially with complex plots and many characters. Writing an ending that is both surprising and logical is hard. It requires a careful balance and great attention to detail.

Writing mysteries is an incredibly rewarding challenge. It involves a delicate dance between engaging readers and surprising them. A mystery author must balance complex plots, twists, and deep characters. They must meet genre expectations and avoid predictability. The challenges of writing in the mystery genre are also the parts that make the genre fun. And while writers want to satisfy their audience, for many, writing mysteries is also personally fulfilling.

Happy reading!

Amethyst Drake

I write mysteries that deliver justice by bedtime for the ones who come out sharper.
Find my fiction at amethystdrake.com.

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Here’s the prologue for Book 2, Framed, to help you make your choice:

Read more

Why bother tracking changes to your manuscript?

It preserves your creative journey. Each version of your manuscript represents a specific moment in your creative thinking. When you track changes, you are documenting your evolution as a storyteller. That subplot you removed? It might spark a different story later. The character whose voice you refined over three drafts? These versions show your growing understanding of human nature.

It builds confidence in your editing decisions. When you can see what you've cut, added, or modified, you make more deliberate choices. Rather than wondering if you've improved the text or just changed it, tracked changes give you concrete evidence of your editing wisdom (and occasional missteps).

It prevents "editing amnesia." We've all experienced that moment of doubt: "Wait, did I already fix that scene?" or "Didn't this paragraph used to be better?" With tracked changes, you never have to wonder—you can see exactly what you had before and make an informed decision about which version serves your story best.

It reveals your writing patterns. As you make change tracking a habit, you'll notice trends in your editing. Maybe you consistently overwrite descriptions in early drafts or struggle with dialogue tags. Looking back at earlier drafts can be both humbling and empowering. "Wow, did I really write that clunky dialogue?" or "Hey, I actually nailed that scene from the beginning!" This self-awareness becomes a powerful tool for improving your first drafts and streamlining your revision process for future projects.

It provides emotional distance. Seeing your edits marked in different colors helps you separate yourself from your words, making it easier to evaluate them objectively. What seemed perfect yesterday might clearly need work today, and tracking changes helps you see that without the emotional attachment.

It protects your efforts and voice. Remember that character you killed off in chapter three but now wish you hadn't? With tracked changes, you can go back and resurrect them without starting from scratch. When you share your work with beta readers or that friend who's "really good at grammar," tracking changes makes it super easy to see their suggestions without losing your original voice. You can accept what works and ignore what doesn't— you maintain control.

Now, if I've convinced you to give tracking changes a try, here's how to do it in Microsoft Word (it's easier than you think):

Turn on tracking by clicking the "Review" tab and hitting "Track Changes."

That's it!

Now everything you add shows up in color, and deletions get crossed out but remain visible. When someone else reviews your document with tracking on, their changes appear in a different color so you know who suggested what. You can accept or reject each suggestion and decide which one serves your manuscript.

TIP! Name your files clearly and consistently! A name like "MysteryNovel_Draft2_Jane's_Comments.docx" will save you from opening twenty files named "Final_FINAL_Actually_Final.docx" later on. Trust me on this.

But wait! What if you've already written the manuscript without tracking turned on?

Microsoft Word has a magical feature called COMPARE which allows you to see a side-by-side comparison of two drafts. In some ways, I like this feature even better than Track Changes. See the picture for a screen shot of the Compare tool in action.

Here is how to use Compare in Word:

1. Open a new document in Microsoft Word.

2. In the Review tab, click Compare. A drop-down menu will appear. Click the Compare option in this drop-down menu. (Usually the first option.)

3. At this point, a new window will open where you can select your files. Click the folder icon next to the Original Document section on the left. This will open your files. Search through them until you find the original version of the Word document that you want to compare, and select it.

4. Now, head to the Revised Document section. Just as you did with the Original Document section, click on the Folder icon and find the new version of the document you want to compare.

5. Click OK, and wait for Word to compare the two documents for differences. Depending on the size of the files, it may take a minute.

6. Once Word has compared them, it will show you a three-pane Word document:

• The center pane shows you the Revised Document with changes highlighted. In my screenshot, it shows up in pink and blue because those are the colors on my computer. Yours will likely be in the program's default colors. You can edit the text in this central pane as needed.

• The right pane shows the Original Document. You cannot edit this pane.

• The left pane lists all the differences that Word has found between the two documents, including formatting and font changes. By clicking changes, you can make the right and center panes zoom to the appropriate point in the document. As you can see in the screen shot, I had 6579 revisions between my first draft and final draft of my 50k word book.

This feature is also fantastic when someone sends back an "edited" manuscript but has not marked their changes in any way. You can compare their notes to your original and decide which changes to accept or reject. Remember, the center pane can be edited, the other panes are for reference and navigation. Be sure to save your revision with a unique file name.

TIP! Stay organized. When saving multiple drafts, it can become wearisome to find the working version. You probably have a folder set aside for your manuscript. I always create another folder within my manuscript folder called "old drafts." When I believe I am finished with a draft and no longer need access to it, I drag and drop it into the Old Drafts folder. It keeps the file out of sight, but if I do later need to go back to an older version of the manuscript, I still have easy access to it.

Tracking changes isn't just about catching errors—it's about understanding your own evolution as a writer and making deliberate, informed decisions about your work.

What about you? Have you been tracking changes all along, or is this something you might start doing with your current project? Either way, your future self will thank you when you're polishing that manuscript for publication!