Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

They always say you should write what you know, don’t they? It makes sense, too. If you’ve never eaten an apple, it’s harder to describe what that’s like. That’s why a lot of authors write about places they’ve lived, for instance. I’d like to get better at writing, so I decided to test that theory. That’s how the whole thing started, really. I just wanted to be a better writer.

I’m naturally an introvert, so I don’t do a lot of entertaining. Still, I’d sure like to write extroverted characters better. So, I decided I should have a party – you know, a nice little drop-in for the people who live in our community. I thought I could use the experience to write about parties.

Everything started off well. The food was just right (I’m a pretty good cook, though I say it myself). Everyone liked the music, too. Even though I don’t like parties, I actually relaxed a bit. Then, DeeDee and Jared stopped in. I’d almost forgotten how annoying they both are. For one thing, they won’t stop yammering. Even if you’re in a hurry, DeeDee can trap you for half an hour in a stupid conversation. Theirs is always the home with the loud music playing, too. And Jared’s one of those weekend warriors who uses hedge trimmers and the lawn mower at six o’clock in the morning! Within twenty minutes, I had a headache from their non-stop chatter. The other guests weren’t any happier. Some practically winced every time Jared made some idiotic joke.

I didn’t want the whole party ruined, so I thought quickly. How would a poised, extroverted person get rid of horrible people like that without being rude? Then I remembered they had a yappy little miniature dachshund. I asked to see a picture, and DeeDee was excited to pull out her phone and show me her latest photos. I said something about feeding and walking and thank God, that reminded them they had to take care of little Fifi. So, they left. Finally.

The next day, I wrote a short story about the party (which, by the way, went beautifully after Jared and DeeDee left). Surprise, surprise, it was accepted by a literary magazine! I was absolutely thrilled. OK, I didn’t win the Nobel Prize for Literature, but I did win a short story contest. Maybe, I thought, this writing about what you know is a good idea.

My next experiment was taking a bus ride (I usually drive), so I could get a sense of buses and people who ride them. There were all sorts of weird people on the bus. One guy was muttering about the end of the world, and there was a couple taking pictures of each other and posting them online. I saw a woman singing to herself, and a street person huddled in the back, surrounded by bags. What a setting! I put a story together and submitted it. You guessed it – it got accepted by a pretty prestigious journal. My name started to get around. But I still needed to figure out what sort of stories I really wanted to write.

Two days later, it hit me. I loved reading mysteries when I was younger. I still do read them. You know, Agatha Christie, Michael Connelly, and Louise Penny – that kind of thing. Maybe crime fiction was my niche. I told my sister about it, and she agreed.

The problem was, I’d never committed a crime. OK, I got a speeding ticket once, but that’s not really a crime. Not like arson or something like that. The rule about writing what you know was working well for me, but this was different.

Sometimes a walk helps clear my mind, so I took a stroll down our street,  trying to notice the trees and grass. Then I saw DeeDee and that infuriating little dachshund of hers. She saw me too and bustled up to me.

‘How are you?’ she asked as Fifi started chewing on the hem of my jeans.
I made the mistake of answering her. ‘I’m fine, and you?’
DeeDee launched into a ten-minute recital of her problems, the outrageous mortgage on her home, the fact that Jared still hadn’t gotten that promotion, the whole thing. I listened as politely as I could for a while. Finally, Fifi actually did something useful and obeyed the call of nature.
‘Sorry,’ DeeDee said. ‘I have to clean this up.’
‘No problem. I need to get back anyway.’

As I walked back to the house, I could feel DeeDee watching me the whole way, waving as I went. Ugh!  I went inside and checked my email. As I sat at my computer, I got an idea. And, see, that’s when things went wrong. But you have to understand, I just wanted to be a better writer, that’s all. I thought about some sort of mischief, but that wouldn’t make for a powerful story. There was only one way I would get real criminal experience, so I could write a good murder mystery. I started researching that afternoon. It took a little time but once I had everything I needed, I made my plans.

Last Saturday, we had a block party. Like I said, I’m an introvert, but I made an exception. It was easy enough to slip the weed killer into the gluten-free pasta DeeDee brought (she and Jared don’t eat gluten or dairy, so she always makes a ‘just for us’ dish). After all, everyone was talking, and nobody paid attention to me. And, since everyone was outside at the party, nobody noticed me putting the rest of the weed killer into Bob and Jeanne’s garage. They live next door to Jared and DeeDee, and don’t like them any more than I do. So, problem solved. Sorry, Bob and Jeanne.

My crime novel just got published, and it’s selling well. They say it’ll top the lists. See? Write what you know. I’m already planning my next novel.