It's a wrap

motownmysteries
Dec 19, 2025
7 min read

It's time to put a bow on this year and wrap things up. Like anyone else, 2025 was filled with peaks and valleys of activity. I participated in more events than ever before, met a lot of great people, interacted with quite a few authors and sold a bunch of books.

Now it's time to catch my breath. I can turn my attention to writing and formulate a plan or two (it's always good to have a backup plan) as we head into 2026. So here's my thoughts on writing, updates on my current projects, and some music. As Pappy Cantrell would say, "Y'all knows dere's gotta be music!"

Let's roll.

Writing

Twice in the same week, I was invited to participate in something a little different. Both events were related to writing. The first was with a writer's group in nearby Kalamazoo. A few months ago, I was recruited to be part of a panel. The discussion would center around our different approaches to publishing and if time permitted, promotion. Authors Laura Kemp, Barry Knister and Heidi McCrary joined me as we shared our experiences.

It was interesting to learn how each of us has approached this journey. Some have chosen to go directly with self-publishing. Others have experimented with traditional publishers. We handled questions from the group (there were about 30 people in attendance)

I described my efforts working with two traditional publishers (Wild Rose Press, which handles the Jefferson Chene series and Inkspell Publishing, with the Jamie Richmond books). We discussed methods to finding traditional publishers and the benefits they bring to the table. Then I explained about my efforts to self-publish "Rules of Desperation" and "Part-Time Criminal".

The conversation shifted to promoting. Laura (she's on the far right) described her efforts on social media. She has achieved a following of several thousand people. Laura attributed her success there to a combination of her own efforts and a colleague who assists her. Barry, (he's on the left) has been working with a marketer, designing and implementing a campaign.

All together we shared a lot of useful information with the group. I enjoyed being part of the panel and hearing about what has worked (or what hasn't) from the others. The writer's group even allowed us the opportunity to display our books and sell a copy or two to the group. Here's my setup.

If you look closely at the copy of Rules of Desperation, you can see the handle for the bookmark!

The second invitation came with shorter notice. The college where I teach had posted a notice a few weeks back, asking for true stories with a 'water' theme for an inaugural Story Hour. The concept was that if your work was accepted, you'd be expected to read your submission to the audience. The guidelines described this was open to faculty, students and staff.

After reading this over, I knew the perfect story to submit. So I dusted it off, trimmed a little here and there and submitted it. Then I promptly forgot about it.

Until I received the email notice on Monday, December 1. I was in! There would be 10 of us, sharing stories and a local musician would be performing. So Tuesday night, I met with the writer's group described above. Then Friday night, I was part of the Story Hour.

Since it's the holidays, I thought it would be appropriate to share the story with you. Here it is.

The Boat Ride.

I attended a Catholic elementary school near Detroit. This was back in the day when most of the teachers were Dominican nuns and they wore the full black and white habit, where only their hands and face were uncovered.

My parents owned a cottage near Lake St. Clair and every June, after the school year ended, they invited all the sisters up for a picnic and a day’s relaxation. The year I finished eighth grade when the nuns came to visit was a miserable day. It was rainy, which meant everyone would be crowded inside the cottage, instead of enjoying the fresh air outside.

Sister Columbanus, who was a particularly scrappy lady, appeared beside me and jabbed an elbow into my ribs. “I want to go for a boat ride. Your dad said it’s okay with him.”

“It’s raining out, Sister.”

“Jesus doesn’t mind a little rain and neither do I. We’re going for a ride.”

I looked past her at my father. He grinned and waved me toward the door. There would be no support from him.

My mom gave the good sister a windbreaker. It was raining steadily now, not a light sprinkle. As we approached the canal, Sister Columbanus pointed at a small boat. “That one! I want to ride in that one.”

The boat was a ten-foot-long fiberglass hydroplane with a fifty-horsepower outboard motor on it. This looked like a sleek tennis shoe, with a small bench seat just in front of the motor. Shaking my head in disbelief, I fetched life jackets for both of us. It took some effort, but eventually I had the motor running and Sister Columbanus in the cockpit. I handed her the thick nylon line from the bow.

“What’s this for?”

“In case you fall out, you can ski behind the boat.” I wasn’t happy about this situation. Going for a boat ride in the pouring rain with a nun was not something that had even a glimmer of being fun.

She grinned and settled back in the seat.

As we headed out of the canal towards the main channel, a large yacht roared past. It was moving fast. I took notice of the wake. This is the water displaced when a boat moves through it. The bigger the boat and the faster it’s moving, the larger the wake. It’s a series of three waves on each side.

I glanced at the wake. Then I looked at Sister Columbanus.

An experienced sailor knows the proper way to handle the wake.

A disgruntled fourteen-year-old had other ideas.

I jammed the throttle wide open. The little hydroplane raced ahead. Sister Columbanus squealed. Or maybe it was a scream.

We zoomed over the first roller, through the middle of the second wave and then over the third one, fast enough to get the boat airborne. Twenty gallons of water dumped in our laps. Sister Columbanus continued to scream. As we crashed back onto the surface, I did the same thing on the other side, racing over the first wave, through the second and getting airborne on the third.

Somewhere during this ride, the nun reached over and dug her fingers into my forearm. If she went overboard, I was going with her.

We landed on the far side of the yacht. I spun the wheel and looked at her. Sister Columbanus was drenched. I was drenched. She pointed at the stern of the yacht. Then she yelled three words that I never, ever expected to hear.

“Do it again!”

The feisty little nun was having the ride of her life. At her urging, we chased that yacht for about a mile, jumping through its wake from one side to the other. Eventually we turned around and headed back to the cottage.

Back inside, my mom and several of the sisters helped Sister Columbanus change into a heavy bathrobe. They even wrapped her hair in a towel like a turban. I switched into dry clothes and found her sitting at the bar. A bottle of Stroh’s beer was in front of her. She held up a thick glass with a few ounces of whiskey in it. As I approached, she offered a toast.

“That…was a boat ride.”

Some loyal readers may recognize this scene from "Your Turn to Die" the second Jefferson Chene novel. There are times when something from my past will appear in one of the books. True life experiences can have a realistic impact on a story. Works in Progress

Jefferson Chene is becoming impatient. That's probably a good trait for a detective. Someone once told me 'patience is a virtue'. My reply that I don't have any virtues probably didn't help resolve whatever the problem was at the time.

In this case, I'm glad Chene is pestering me. Different scenes for the investigation keep coming to mind. I was able to carve out some time recently and wrote 2,000 words that really just...clicked. Outlines and I don't get along. So when I'm working on a project, ideas for a scene will hit me and I'll write those out. Putting them together into a timeline where the story flows and makes sense is for another day. Right now, it's time to write. And as often happens, once I completed that scene, ideas for another one immediately hit me.

It's also my intentions to spend more time on the Young Adult novella, especially after the semester ends. There's also that pesky little short story that needs a good ending. That will probably wrap up around 3,000 words. But then, you never can tell where that might lead.

Events

The displays have been packed away. All the books are stored neatly in plastic containers, so there are no concerns about dampness creeping in. I did pick up a new calendar for 2026 events and have already started booking a few dates. Unless magic happens and a new show falls into my lap, I'll refrain from any events throughout the holidays.

Music

Some people enjoy the traditional holiday music as early as October. There are radio stations that begin playing these tunes the day after Halloween. I'm aware of this, but these are not something I would listen too.

I've never been a sappy guy when it comes to the movies, songs or cards for the holidays. It's got to be a little different to capture my attention. A little variety can be a good thing.