When I started writing my historical mystery, one of the questions I wrestled with was whether or not to include a murder. Naturally, I’m against murder. I didn’t relish digging into the psyche of someone who would take another person’s life. Why not break the trend and write a series of mysteries that don’t involve murder?
So I thought about non-lethal crimes that could propel my characters: theft, harassment, stalking, kidnapping, blackmail, or vandalism? Somehow none of them seemed compelling enough to drive an entire novel (which is probably a lack of imagination on my part). Theft is just the shuffling around of material goods—even the loss of a treasured possession doesn’t incite the blood-churning drama of having your life threatened. Blackmail can damage your relationships, reputation, or career—but those can all be repaired or replaced, when you get right down to it.
My conclusion: murder it must be. A comforting thing about “cozy” or historical mysteries is that the crime usually takes place “off-screen”—the sleuth happens upon a murder scene and then puzzles out whodunnit. So I wouldn’t need to dwell on the detailed specifics of the act of murder or the grisly process of a life seeping away. I searched for the cleanest ways it could happen—maybe a gunshot or a fast-acting poison.
Writer David Evans says, “We love murder mysteries because they are redemptive, they give us hope, and help us move from fear to reassurance.” They’re like fairy tales for adults, he says. They confirm our faith in justice, in the belief that order can be restored to an uncertain world. If that’s true, then for me it’s subconscious. I think I’m reading because I love a good puzzle, and I love to see quirky characters solve one.
The majority of mystery readers are women, many of them in their 50s and 60s, living in suburban areas. I’m guilty as charged—I’m writing what I love to read. I learned it from my grandmother, Nanny, who consumed Agatha Christie and Sue Grafton novels much more often than she ate a hearty breakfast. It’s funny to look around the grocery store and think about how the grey-haired ladies who smile kindly, buy Better Homes and Gardens magazine, and still write paper checks are the same ladies who head home to devour a book about someone getting stabbed or strangled.
Of course, we’d never go near something like that in real life—right?