Stuff That Helps
well, that was a thing that happened
not a good thing, either
I’m not one to rant. Maybe a nice quick scream in the car, just let it out, then turn on some metal with some fuzzy guitar and make a stank face when it gets to the heavy, groovy bridge. (These days I’ve been banging my head to “Disappear” by Crobot, which has a bridge that will have you headbanging so hard you’ll turn your brain into a milkshake.) And then I go outside with a camera to see things purposefully, reminding myself that I don’t need to consume doom all day. You know what? I found this silver fox in Quebec. The sun was out, the breeze was gentle, and he just stopped for a few seconds and closed his eyes, feeling that sun and inhaling those smells, simply enjoying the sensation of being alive. It helps. There are joys that cannot be taken away and noticing them—experiencing them—is resistance to a regime that wants to drain all hope.
Stories help too. So I’ll keep reading and writing them.
And I got a really nice email from someone about The Seven Kennings (which was, in some ways, a response to the first administration). This person is part of a very vulnerable population now in Texas, and they wrote, “This story helped me to see how in times of existential menace, we can and must find time for friendship and love, joy and solidarity, determination and willingness to sacrifice for those we love."
Well, there you go. They said it best. Maybe if you haven’t read The Seven Kennings yet, you might find it works for you now? It starts with A Plague of Giants.
Where I’m At
These days I’m mostly on Bluesky, Instagram, and Threads. And honestly: Mostly Bluesky. I love the lack of algorithm. You see stuff from folks you follow in the order they post. Plus you can follow feeds like BIRDS and see a whole bunch of bird pics or whatever. They have feeds for most special interests and you can contribute! There are also Starter Packs where you can follow groups of people you’d like to see more of (like fantasy authors or journalists or beard enthusiasts). And lists where you can preemptively block the sorts of accounts you’d never like to see—image scrapers or crypto bros or whatever. The block, by the way, is a true block—they can’t see your account, you don’t see theirs. They’re banished to the cornfield, which pretty much eliminates campaigns of harassment. And if someone quote dunks on you? You can detach your post from their quote and ha ha, no one can pile on. So it’s a much friendlier space. I enjoy chatting with folks there, so if you’d like to give it a shot, please do say hello. I’m @kevinhearne.bsky.social.
What I’m Writing
You know how authors sometimes have a working title? Like, "I’m just calling it this for now, it might change later and probably will"? Yeah. (Fun fact: the working title for Hounded was American Druid.) So anyway, the working title for the story I’m currently writing is A Red Death at Little Rouge. I can’t tell you anything more than that. But it has so many clues! It has something red, something dead, something small, and something rouge (which is…red.)
What I’m Reading
I asked folks on Bluesky and Threads for recommendations on amateur sleuth books—in other words, mysteries where cops aren’t the heroes. And something of a fascinating coincidence occurred: I wound up picking up two books by the same publisher, Berkley Books, and they obviously shared some common design elements: the flat, bright colors, the drop shadow on the white letters of the title, and the prominent featuring of a character who is definitely not a cop. What’s the appeal of these? Well, it’s the restoration of order in a world gone mad. It’s justice when the justice system is probably not going to deliver it. And they often feature folks who don’t look like me, so that means I get to see things from a different perspective and become more empathetic with fellow humans. Wanna read them with me? I’m starting with It’s Elementary.
It’s Elementary
Mavis Miller is not a PTA mom. She has enough on her plate with her feisty seven-year-old daughter, Pearl, an exhausting job at a nonprofit, and the complexities of a multigenerational household. So no one is more surprised than Mavis when she caves to Trisha Holbrook, the long-reigning, slightly terrifying PTA president, and finds herself in charge of the school's brand-new DEI committee.
As one of the few Black parents at this California elementary school, Mavis tries to convince herself this is an opportunity for real change. But things go off the rails at the very first meeting, when the new principal's plans leave Trisha absolutely furious. Later that night, when Mavis spies Trisha in yellow rubber gloves and booties, lugging cleaning supplies and giant black trash bags to her waiting minivan, it's only natural that her mind jumps to somewhere it surely wouldn't in the light of day.
Except Principal Smith fails to show up for work the next morning, and has been MIA since the meeting. Determined to get to the bottom of things, Mavis, along with the school psychologist with the great forearms (look, it's worth noting), launches an investigation that will challenge her views on parenting, friendship, and elementary school politics.
Brilliantly written, It's Elementary is a quick-witted, escapist romp that perfectly captures just how far parents will go to give their kids the very best, all wrapped in a mystery that will leave you guessing to the very end.
Arsenic and Adobo
When Lila Macapagal moves back home to recover from a horrible breakup, her life seems to be following all the typical rom-com tropes. She's tasked with saving her Tita Rosie's failing restaurant, and she has to deal with a group of matchmaking aunties who shower her with love and judgment. But when a notoriously nasty food critic (who happens to be her ex-boyfriend) drops dead moments after a confrontation with Lila, her life quickly swerves from a Nora Ephron romp to an Agatha Christie case.
With the cops treating her like she's the one and only suspect, and the shady landlord looking to finally kick the Macapagal family out and resell the storefront, Lila's left with no choice but to conduct her own investigation. Armed with the nosy auntie network, her barista best bud, and her trusted Dachshund, Longanisa, Lila takes on this tasty, twisted case and soon finds her own neck on the chopping block...
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