traditional murder mysteries

The Roughest Rudest Sea – first draft blues

/ Caron Allan / Leave a comment

How I think I look as I contemplate my next scene.

So as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’m knee-deep in the first draft of my new Dottie Manderson mystery, The Rough Rude Sea. It’s book nine of the series and we join Dottie and William on their journey home–by ship, of course–from their honeymoon. I suppose by rights, I should change the series to the Dottie Hardy mysteries – but let’s leave that on one side for now…

I’m wrestling with characters, trying to piece together the ‘action’, everything is at the juggling stage and the ‘What did I say his name was?’ stage. But at least I’ve got ten months to sort it all out. That shouldn’t be too difficult. I think. Or…?

Here’s sneak-peek of the opening of the story; I hope you are intrigued:

August 1935. Gran Canaria.

With hindsight, as she lay dying on the hard floor of the dining-room, Katherine Henshawe realised she should have expected this to happen. She should have been on her guard. She’d been a fool, she saw that now. If she’d had any doubts about the severity of her situation, the gently spreading pool of blood on the floor in front of her gave her a good indication. She tried to call for help, but of course it was pointless. No one came.

‘Save your last few breaths,’ her killer—for she knew now that was who this smiling person was—told her with a wink. ‘Not that it’ll do you much good. Not long now, as I expect you can see for yourself. And with you out of the way, I shall be very rich. Very rich indeed. I hope you enjoyed your holiday!’

At the door, there was a slight pause, then a merry chuckle and the door closed again.

No one would find her in time now. She knew too that she would never see her home in Berkshire again. Katherine Henshawe spent her final moments praying. Not for a miracle. Not for the prolongation of her life, or even for forgiveness and the chance for an eternal life in Heaven.

From the corner of her eye, she could just make out the crucifix on the wall. With her last breath, she prayed that her killer would suffer horribly for what they had done to her.

 

This book will be released in December, as I mentioned, and eBook pre-orders are available. There will also be a paperback version, and a large print, and even a hardback edition as I know some people really like those. Stay tuned for more updates!

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New year, new books

/ Caron Allan / Leave a comment

Most of us had to get back to work this week, and that includes writers! I’m at the creative stage, ideas flowing, crazy ones or a bit more sensible, I’m making a huge amount of notes, then just as likely, crossing them out the next day, only to come back a day after that and think, ‘Yes, actually, I like that idea, it could work really well.’

I’m not much of a planner but I’m doing my level best. I’ve been looking ahead, and trying to plan a work schedule.

I’m intending to spend the next five weeks drafting my new Dottie book – hopefully that will be out in December. That will be book 9 of the series, and I’m calling it The Rough Rude Sea. Dottie and William return by steamship from their honeymoon. Obviously it’s not going to be smooth sailing. (sorry about the pun).

Then, mid-February, it will be all change, and I’ll be in editing mode as I tidy up and polish Through Dancing Poppies, the third book in the Miss Gascoigne mysteries series.

Then…

…at some point I’ve got to crowbar in rewrites and polishing etc of Dirty Work, book 1 in the new trilogy Families Can Be Murder. This is a spin-off of my original trilogy Friendship Can be Murder, book 1 Criss Cross was first published in 2012. This time it’s Matt, not Cressida, writing the diary entries and confessing all.

Apparently I’m also going on holiday… I think I might need it!

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Quick catch-up!

/ Caron Allan

Writing.

It’s one of those things that everyone you meet says they could do too if they only had the time. Maybe they are right. but I’ve always felt that if something means a lot to you, you find the time, you make the time, you figure out your priorities and squeeze your passion into every crack and crevice you can.

I can remember grabbing time on my commute to work, or during lunch breaks, in the evenings when my better half was watching something on TV that didn’t interest me, or just any spare moment or snatched ten minutes I could find. Ten minutes, several times a week can give you one or two thousand words, times that by 52 weeks in a year, and you’ve got a novel.

These days, I’m officially old, and I no longer work outside the home, so I can spend quite a bit of time every day (not as much as you’d think, there are always distractions…) writing or thinking about what I’ve just written or what I might write next.

My latest book, Midnight, the Stars, and You: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 8, came out in September. And in December, I have two books being released, The Cousins, a sort-of mystery, a stand-alone novel, is one of them, the other is the German language edition of my book A Wreath of Lilies: Miss Gascoigne mysteries book 2. The German title is Ein Kranz aus Lilien.

I’ve already started looking ahead – I’m always doing that – and have plans to publish Miss Gascoigne mysteries book 3 Through Dancing Poppies in maybe April next year.

Then after that… well, so many decisions to make, so many books to write…

We’ve just come back from holiday. In fact, I’ve been lucky enough to have a couple of holidays this year and they had elements in common: a seaside location, and a large number of diverse people in a small area. This is exactly the kind of thing that breeds ideas in my head. I made COPIOUS notes, did a ton of people-watching, took hundreds of photos, and now I’m sitting at my desk thinking, ‘Hmm… what if…?’

It’s too soon to make any announcements, but something is definitely brewing…

 

cover image by Agalaya.

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Summer news – 2 things!

/ Caron Allan / 6 Comments

I hope you’re all having a fabulous summer–you parents are probably already counting the days to when the kids go back to school, though, right? I remember the first day back when I used to sit and just listen to all that silence… bliss!

Welcome to all the new subscribers–there have been quite a number of you just lately – thank you so much, and I really hope you enjoy your free book. And a warm welcome back to you stalwarts who have been with me for a few years now, thank you so much for your continued support and interest.

I just have two quick things to tell you this month–I’m keeping it short (about time, I hear you say…)

1. Guess what? I’m now ‘officially’ cancer free!!!!!!!!!!! Woo!!!!!!!!! After almost two years of really tough times, we finally got the good news from my oncologist a couple of weeks ago. I can’t take it in, it still seems unbelievable. Hopefully I will start to enjoy my new freedom from hospital appointments, treatment, endless tests and checks, and just… well, get on with my life. Trips to the hospital comprised 75% of my social life–I have no idea what I’m going to do with all that free time now. Here’s a pic of the top of my head – I’m ecstatic to have hair again, it’s soft like a baby’s and a bit curly – though rather greyer than I remembered! (Yeah but my skin’s still awful!)

2. My new Dottie Manderson mystery is out on the 6th September. It should have been two weeks earlier than that, but a few things have  prevented me from meeting that deadline. And it seemed better to put the date back by two weeks than a few days. So that’s Midnight, the Stars and You – book 8 of the Dottie Manderson mysteries coming out on the 6th September 2025. If you’re desperate for something to do, you could head to this page on my blog and find out more about the book, and if you’ve got a few dollars/pounds/euros burning a hole in your pocket, preorders for eBooks are available here. Pre-orders are not available for paperback, hardback or large print paperback but I promise you they will be available on release day in September.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for the encouraging/uplifting messages you’ve sent me in the past, helping me to get through the dreaded Big C. I really appreciated it.

 

Midnight, the Stars, and You: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 8 – coming September 2025

/ Caron Allan

So this happened…

Like an eejit I decided to go ahead and put my next Dottie book on Amazon for pre-order. It will be released on Saturday 6th September 2025.

It’s eBook only at the moment, I’m afraid.  Paperback, large print paperback and hardback will follow around the same time, but are not available to pre-order, sorry. The paperback version will also (eventually) be available from other online bookshops.

This is book eight in the Dottie Manderson mystery series. I’ve mentioned it a few times before, but here’s a bit more detail:

Book 8 of the Dottie Manderson mysteries finds Dottie fed up with waiting and all the fuss, and just wanting to get on with being Mrs Detective Inspector William Hardy.

An unexpected invitation could be just what she needs. How wonderful it will be to get away to a weekend house party and forget all the worries of organising the wedding! Unfortunately it’s a house party that will never be forgotten: squabbles, cliques and even unexpected death.

Of course, William, like all husbands-to-be everywhere, has no interest whatsoever in the problems of the right kind of lace or the perfect place setting. In any case, he’s got a special kind of investigation going on, one that means bringing a good friend to justice, stretching his loyalty to his profession almost to breaking point.

Interested? If you are, you might like to read an extract here!

If you would like to pre-order the eBook, you can click on these links below, or search on your local Amazon platform.

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.de

Amazon.au

Thanks for reading!

Deleted scene from Rose Petals and White Lace: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 7

/ Caron Allan / 2 Comments

From time to time, I share a deleted scene from one of my books. And as I was a bit stumped for something interesting to say, I thought I’d share this one, a deleted scene from the most recent Dottie Manderson mysteries, which was book 7: Rose Petals and White Lace. I suppose I could call it an internet exclusive 😀

In this extract, Dottie is on her way somewhere with William’s Uncle Joe and she bumps into William’s ex, Moira Hansom… I hope you enjoy it.

As they made their way back towards the house, a woman coming from the opposite direction stopped in Dottie’s path. It was Moira Hansom. She was clearly as astonished to see Dottie as Dottie was to see her, but Moira recovered her poise rather more quickly. Seeing that Dottie was going to talk to the woman, Joe continued a little further along the road, waiting for her just out of earshot.

Dottie was taking in the other woman’s plumper form, along with the loosely fitting dress and matching coat. A frightened, jealous sensation went through Dottie as she looked at her.

As if guessing Dottie’s thoughts, Moira laughed her smart sarcastic laugh.

‘Oh, you needn’t worry. It’s not William’s,’ she assured Dottie, patting her stomach.

Dottie was scandalised that she should speak so openly about it right there in the middle of the street. But her mind seized on the words and her nerves began to settle back to normal. Dottie nodded but said nothing. What on earth could she say to that?

‘That’s why Gervase’s parents are taking such good care of me,’ Moira said, the smart attitude dropping away with the lowering of her voice. ‘And thank God, I say. I told them we were about to announce our engagement, but that he wanted to wait for the end of the enquiry before making it official. Actually, he didn’t even know, I hadn’t told him. You won’t say anything, will you? Without them I’d really be in a fix.’

She held out her hand to show its only ornament: the old hideous, clumsy ring Gervase had given Dottie, or more correctly, had shoved across the table at her, she amended silently.

Dottie nodded again. She found her voice. ‘You’ve had it altered and cleaned.’

‘Yes. Well, it certainly needed it, we both know that. Though it’s not what I would have chosen for myself, of course, had the opportunity arisen. Still, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers.’ Her voice wobbled at the end of this little speech.

Dottie felt a wave of sorrow. ‘I hope things work out all right. And that everything goes well with the baby.’

‘Thanks. That’s decent of you. The Parfitts, well, they’ve been very good, actually. Gave me a cottage near them, it’s very pleasant and comfortable. And they give me a generous allowance. Promised to put him—or her—through school and college. Of course I have to toe the line, go to all their social functions, that sort of thing. Though not for much longer, of course. I’ll soon be shut away until after the arrival. In any case, it’s the least I could do.’

Dottie nodded, once again unable to think of anything to say.

Moira added, ‘I’m thinking that in a few years I might be lucky enough to meet a suitable chap amongst their acquaintance, it’d obviously have to be someone they’d approve of. But a girl needs to think about these things, and make the best of a bad job, I always say.’ She glanced at Dottie assessingly. ‘I suppose you and William are back together?’

Dottie was on the point of nodding yet again but stopped herself. ‘Yes, we are. He’s up here, there’s been another enquiry, this time into… about Gervase… and everything.’

Moira nodded, biting her lip. ‘Yes, I did hear about it. That was Evangeline, Gervase’s mother. She pressured Edwin to do that. It’s not really as personal as it seems. They just wanted to lash out, I think. What with losing his brother shortly before Gervase himself.’

‘It must be a terrible time for them. I imagine that your… news… has helped them a great deal. You’ve given them hope for the future.’

‘I think so.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Well, look, they’re coming. We’re on our way to visit some friends of theirs. I imagine you won’t want to see them.’

‘Not particularly.’ Dottie hesitated. ‘Well goodbye.’ She held out her hand.

Moira surprised her with a sudden brief hug and a cool kiss on the cheek. ‘You’ve got by far the best man,’ she said. ‘Good luck.’

She hurried away. Dottie, lost in thought, caught up with Joe.

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In the Neolithic Village

/ Caron Allan

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you will have seen this one before… I do quite often repeat myself. Mainly because I know anyone who has already seen it will either have forgotten it by now, or will be happy to gloss over it once more, but there will be many people who (hopefully) won’t have seen it yet.

Recently I’ve been digging out photos and other pictures for posting on Pinterest – it’s one of my favourite platforms, as I’m a very visual person, I am inspired by what I see. And during this digging out process I found some more photos I took years ago when we went to Skara Brae, in Orkney, an island group off the north coast of Scotland.

Seeing those houses had been a goal of mine since I watched that iconic Simon Schama documentary A History of Britain, and I had to see it for myself. It’s not often something inspires me to that extent, but that really did. And because I a) love people and b) love history, I wanted to see a place where those two things met. And where so gloriously stunning as the neolithic village Skara Brae, unearthed during a violent storm in 1850, it was last inhabited four thousand years before that. This glorious place set my imagination on fire, and I concocted this short story…

The corridors linking the houses are dark, black-dark, and yet the children run back and forth giggling and jostling as children have always done. They barely pause in their running as the corridors narrow or curve. They laugh in and out of the houses, running amongst the groups, tribes, families. Outside, beyond the house, the sea and the wind roar, and strange creatures prowl the earth. But not in here.

In the houses themselves, the central hearth is the main light and although bright enough to prepare the food by, the illumination doesn’t reach to the farthest parts of the room where the animals are safely housed against thick stone walls. But their soft noises and comfortable smells lull the elders who sit by the fire and prod the embers or stir the cooking-pot by turns.

Soon the eye becomes accustomed to the dimness and it is possible to see not just vague shapes but the shapes of the bodies of the cattle in their pens, or the shapes of the drawings in the sand of the fireside floor, the simple outlines that accompany the story that is being told. A half-grown child, listening to the stories with wide eyes is given instructions and items of interest, are brought from the dresser to the one who speaks, who holds each thing up for all to see and recounts all that is known, the history of the item, the way it happened to be found or created, all that makes it special is told now to those who are gathered. They’ve heard it before. Even last night but still they all look and a discussion takes place, even the child speaks. He will be a fine man one day soon. They look on him with pride. One day, he will be the teller of stories.

The food is passed round, grain and meat and fish and coarse bread, flat and hot from the stones by the fire. Everyone eats and there is a strange hush over those in the house for a time. There is a ritual about eating. There is a ritual about being in the safety of a warm and solid home with the cattle and the fire. This is what it means to be at home.

It is evening, the day draws to a close and everyone is gathered in the safe warmth of the roundhouse, and nearby, there are other houses, with other people gathered, and the children are the running link between them. More stories are told, more conversation and discussion over the nature of the stars and their brightness, of the tides of the sea, of the path of the moon who guides the hunters and blesses the crops.

And over the way, along the dark tunnel then out into the air, in another similar house, the ancestors listen and smile as the brightness of the moon creeps in.

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Embracing the mess

/ Caron Allan

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about routine and how I think it’s essential to productive creativity. But what do you do if your routine goes to pot and everything is unsettled and out of sync?

Just go with it.

I’m thinking of that song by Scott Walker about a million years ago, ‘Make It Easy On Yourself.’ That’s just what you should do.

If you allow the stress of being disorganised to get to you, you will become depressed, anxious, feel guilty, and become increasingly non-productive, then get even more deeply depressed. So it’s important to allow yourself the room to just do what you can manage, and don’t sweat it. Do what you can and don’t beat yourself up if you feel you’re not achieving as much as you should, or planned to achieve.

Do what you can, and gradually normality will reassert itself. Even if you only write a small amount, remind yourself it’s a step forward from yesterday, and any progress, no matter how small, is good. You may even find, as I am beginning to realise, that it’s a normal part of your creative process.

I usually start strong, like most writers. I have a good idea of where the story is going, I know what it’s about. But for me, again like many writers, the problems arise about halfway or so into the story when suddenly I realise a) I’m useless at writing, b) my story sucks, and c) it’s never going to be ready in time.

The first couple of times this happened, I gave up on the story. That was a long time ago when I was a young writer. Then I realised I could work through the doubt and fear and finish a book. And for a long time, that’s what I did. But the last couple of years have been exceptionally stressful in my life, and pressures have taken their toll. And now, my old anxieties have resurfaced and this time it’s so much harder to push them away and carry on. But that’s what I’m going to do. Because what choice do I have? Do I want to give up writing? NO!

So now, I’m embracing the mess, and working with it, secure in the knowledge that, regardless of my feelings and the muddle that is my so-called WIP, I can do this. It might take a while, and it might be baby steps, but I will get there, and finish this book.

‘Mesdames et messieurs, allow me to reveal at last, the identity of the criminal’, said Birdcule Poirot

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Routine – the nemesis of creativity?

/ Caron Allan

I recently read somewhere that routine hinders the creative process. To really be creative, we need to let go of organisation, routine and any kind of rigid preconceptions or framework, to allow ourselves freedom to explore in any direction and form that appeals to us.

I couldn’t disagree more strongly. If you think that routine is a hindrance and obstacle to being truly creative, I’d like to invite you to reconsider.

I suggest that it is routine that brings freedom and that freedom is often to be found within boundaries, not outside of them. Because parameters do one great thing for us, yes, even us creative types. They give security. And if you feel secure, worries and fears are left behind, and you have the freedom to be creative.

All art is created within boundaries. Or a framework of conventions, if you prefer to call it that. Mozart created wonderful music. Yes, undeniably, he was incredibly creative and had a flair for genius. But… Musical composition is, in many ways, one of the most rigidly ‘controlled’ art forms in that very deeply-held conventions dictate the agreed (not necessarily explicitly agreed) common elements that must be adhered to, in order to create any form of music. Sonatas have a specific set of rules, if you like. All sonatas have common elements that make them what they are. Similarly, concertos, arias, opuses and symphonies all have elements which dictate how they are created and underpin the very stylistic identity of a given piece of music.

Now I am tempted to take a long detour at this point and show that this is exactly the same as the genre conventions in writing, but I won’t, as I’ve already waffled quite a bit, and I want to keep this blog fairly to-the-point (wow, who’d have thought it?).

Yes, true, occasionally, I just go with the flow, letting words pour onto the page. There’s nothing actually wrong with that, but it doesn’t make for good reading, it rarely fits neatly into a novel, and I am a novelist, so that is what I need to write. Unfocussed, meandering writing is great fun, very cathartic and can help you to improve your writing overall. It’s great for journals too. But for ‘everyday’ working writing, you need focus, not indulgence.

Within a framework, we have the freedom to be creative. Routine can be just such a framework. I’m actually not a very organised person with regard to my writing. But I have discovered that an established routine is my friend when it comes to cracking on with my WIP and meeting deadlines.

Why?

If you are organised, you can relax and focus on the job in hand. You make the most of your time, and have something concrete to show for it, so productivity is improved and you feel good about what you’ve achieved. Which makes it more likely you’ll do it again tomorrow. In addition, good output leads to increased confidence and positivity, and as many writers know, these are commodities that can be hard to come by.

Planned routine is anticipated, your subconscious inner writer is actually hard at work long before you sit down at your desk. You know what is expected, and what your intentions are. This means you ‘hit the ground running’ and are ready to go straight away with no need for warming up or getting yourself in the mood.

As I’ve said already, routine planned writing leads to increased output and measurable results, you see the word count piling up and you see that you are moving towards your deadline or goal. This gives you the impetus you need to write through the tough sections of your book, those tricky little scenes and the mid-book blues.

For me, one of the main advantages to this type of organised approach to work is that I remain ‘current’ with my WIP. I literally don’t lose the plot. By that I mean I don’t lose track of characters and plot strands the way I do when I’m here and there and all over the place writing whatever takes my fancy. The resulting draft is more seamless, the scenes transition more smoothly, and small details are less likely to be overlooked.

They say it takes six weeks to develop a new routine: three weeks to break old habits, and another three to establish new ones. Give yourself six weeks, starting today. Who knows, by the time we reach the end of April, you may be firmly in the Routine is my Friend camp.

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