NOT YOUR AVERAGE PI

Although I’d much rather be sipping an ice-cold Negroni on the aft deck of my converted tugboat, the boss (I refuse to call him a creator) says I have to spill my story so you readers will want to buy books and stories about my eventful life. I’m used to racking up info about other folks. However, offering up my own details doesn’t come easy.

Anyway, here we go.

I entered this world 44-years-ago, born to a beautiful woman named, Elizabeth Rooney. Now, those of you with an eye for details already notice the different last name. For two years, I was a Rooney as well. We were the typical American family, except that none of us were above 4’6”. Like my boss already noted, I’ve got achondroplasia dwarfism. I got a full genetic dose from both parents.

After two years of tumultuous bliss, my actor birth father got a gig out in Hollywood and never came back. Being a single young mother is hard enough. Add to it, having to raise a child with special needs while you, yourself, are challenged by a world made for taller folks, and my mother should have been awarded sainthood. However, she did it for three more years.

By the time I blew out five candles on my birthday cake, our lives took a turn for the better. My mother was working on her first novel and tending bar at a local Irish Pub in Pensacola, Florida called, McGuire’s. She met a dashing young Navy pilot named, Benjamin Larson. The six-foot pilot and four-foot little beauty turned quite a few heads. However, any snigger of laughter died a quick death when Ben stared down the offender and offered to go outside. One year later, a had a new step-father and my mom a new house with an office for her writing.

The next several years were a dream. Ben moved from flying to Naval Intelligence, while my mom’s first three cozy mystery novels garnered her respectable spots on the New York Times Bestseller list, and an Edgar Award for best debut novel.

Meanwhile, inheriting my mom’s love of learning, I excelled at school, especially in English and Debate. I guess that I inherited my birth father’s knack for theatrics, since I had a talent for making friends with ease. My dwarfism was rarely an issue. When it was, Ben taught me to master control of my emotions through meditation and martial arts. The later skill also helped deal with the few bullies that quickly learned the lesson that size doesn’t matter.

My perfect world came to a crushing halt during my senior year in high school. While on vacation in Majorca, Spain, my mother and Ben died when their car was blind-sided by a large truck, loaded with almonds. Their car tumbled down a cliff and into the Mediterranean below. It took several hours for divers to reach the wreckage. No bodies were ever recovered.

Alright, that’s it for now. I’m doing this as a favor and it’s bumming me out. Maybe I’ll continue later and tell you all how I came to be a private investigator. Then again, maybe I’ll tell the boss to go to hell.

Later.

SHORT STORY NEWS

Things are moving ahead with my writing. My short story, Buford vs The Skunk Ape, has been acquired by Weird Tales Magazine https://www.weirdtales.com for their upcoming Cryptid issue. More info to follow when they announce a publication date.

My short story, Checked Out, will be appearing in the upcoming anthology, Dread Coast: SoCal Horror Tales from No Bad Books Publishing. It’s release date is 8/22/25. The release party will be at the Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore on 8/30/24 (time TBA).

I’ve finished the first draft of my latest Fix Larson short story. Now, I’ll let the construction dust settle for a week before I jump into the edit. Meanwhile, my first Fix Larson novel, Toads, Twins, & Tenacity is on submission with my agent, Cherry Weiner.

BoucherCon is fast approaching in September and I made my reservation this morning. This will be my first mystery convention with my agent. We’re hoping to meet with editors and publisher to introduce my Fix Larson series.

That’s the latest. Have a great week. I hope everyone is reading or writing something great (Maybe both).

CHEERS!

WIP - A Florida man....

I’ve written two short stories involving Sherlock Holmes and one novel based on the twin brother of Hercule Poirot. A novel based on Edgar Allen Poe’s Auguste Dupin currently sits at 40k. However, the photo above represents my current project.

As you can imagine, my present work is not my usual historical mystery. In fact, it takes place in contemporary Northwest Florida. Why there? Well, aside from the fact that I was born there, like Carl Hiaasen, I know that Florida is ripe with colorful, crazy characters.

My private detective lives aboard a converted tugboat, much like the one above. That’s only one thing that makes him unusual. Most notable, he’s 4’6”. Having a detective with dwarfism is not unknown. George Chesbro had a detective named, Dr Robert Frederickson (known from his circus days as Mongo). Mongo is a professor of criminology as well as a black belt in martial arts.

My creation, Butch Larson, known to his friends as Fix, is full of surprises as well. Although not a black belt, he learned self defense from his Navy Seal stepfather and is quite adept with using a tactical baton. This talent comes in handy since he’s a terrible shot and doesn't like guns.

Like the best detectives, he has his flaws. He’s currently separated from his wife and has a habit forgetting to attend their daughter’s school activities. Although he’s a loving father and husband, his intensity and habit of getting obsessed with his investigations have taken a toll on his family. Like many people with his form of dwarfism, chronic pain with his joints and bones causes him to suffer with bouts of insomnia.

His current case has him searching for a missing young boy at a Civil War re-enactment campground. Throw in homicidal twins, reptile smugglers, and a cross-dressing unfaithful husband, and the stage is set for some crazy times from the pine tree lined farms to the sugar white sands of a 19th century fort.

It’s time for me to get back to it. I left him ducking bullets.

VIOLENCE OR "LIVE AND LET DIE"

When you write a mystery, the portrayal of violence is a given. How that violence is portrayed determines what kind of mystery you’re writing. Most of my favorite mysteries have fallen more towards the Cozy side. In such, the violence is discrete and easily covered up by the nearest sheet or oriental carpet. Agatha Christie was the Queen of the Cozy. Even modern writers like Louise Penny tend to keep the gore to a minimum.

That’s not to say I don’t like a gritty mystery/thriller. I enjoy Don Winslow, Carl Hiaasen, Elmore Leonard, and even the craziness of Tim Dorsey. I’ve read Thomas Harris and am amazed how he can even make Hannibal Lechter accessible as a human being.

Currently, I’m toeing the line between a Cozy and a Thriller. Since it involves smuggling in modern Florida, there’s bound to be violence of some sort. And yet, I find myself hesitating to step over the killing line. The people involved are seriously corrupt. However, are they corrupt enough to kill? I guess that depends on the motive. At this point, I only see them killing in self defense. Still, at least two of the minor characters are capable of killing without provocation. They’ve already threatened a kid’s life.

There’s a scene coming up where things are about to blow apart. I’m curious to see how each character reacts. They’ve thrown me some surprises so far. There are some hinted at background stories that I am just starting to explore. That’s one of the most pleasurable things about writing for me. I love watching the story play out in the theater of my mind.

I’ll let you know how it turns out later.

In the meantime, what are your thoughts on violence in books? Is there such a thing as too much? Where do you draw the line. If you’re a writer, tell me how you handle the subject.

As always, thanks for reading.