Thinkingdog Publishing

There was a time—long, long ago, in a land of fluorescent lighting and lukewarm coffee—when my entire day was mapped out by someone else. Eight hours. Eight very structured, very supervised hours. Someone told me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Possibly even how to breathe while doing it. And I remember thinking, with the quiet desperation of someone staring at a clock that refused to move that there had to be more than this. Fast forward to now. I am an indie author. Which sounds wildly glamorous until you realize it means I am now the boss, the employee, the intern, the marketing department, the IT support, and occasionally… the person who forgets where she put her own coffee. That's the plot twist no one really talks about: When you become your own boss, no one tells you what to do anymore. At all. There is no helpful voice saying, “Today, Sabine, you will write exactly 1,243 brilliant words, post at the optimal algorithm-approved time, and experience measurable suc...

5 Magical Realism Cozy Mystery Series Pixie Would Absolutely Consider Starring In By Pixie, Magical Papillon, Professional Detective Adjacent, Occasional Muse   Every author assumes their dog wants to star in their books. This is adorable. The truth is that I, Pixie the Magical Papillon, maintain very high artistic standards. I do not simply appear in any magical cozy mystery. I must carefully evaluate each potential role based on three important criteria:  Number of available treats. Quality of magical shenanigans. Whether I get more dialogue than the humans. After extensive napping and research, I have narrowed my list to five magical cozy mystery series I would seriously consider joining. The Magical Papillon Mysteries (Currently accepting applications from one extremely talented papillon.) Naturally, my first choice is the Magical Papillon Mysteries. The setting has everything I require:   ✔ A charming small town.   ✔ Cozy mystery adventures...

One of the strangest things about getting older is discovering that some of the things you have been carrying around for years were never yours to begin with. I’m not talking about actual luggage. Sadly, my suitcase still weighs approximately the same as a small farm animal whenever I travel. I mean the invisible stuff, the questions. Did they like me? Did I say the wrong thing? Was that email too short? Too long? Too enthusiastic? Not enthusiastic enough? Should I have used one exclamation mark, three, none? At one point, I’m fairly certain I could have won an Olympic medal in overthinking. There would have been a ceremony, a tiny flag, and possibly a commemorative mug. Then somewhere along the way, something changed. I crossed an invisible little bridge and realized I was asking the wrong question. For years, I had been asking “Do they like me?” And suddenly, I found myself wondering “Do I even like them?” Now, before anyone dramatically collapses onto a Victorian fainting couch, I’m...

  5 Reason s Momm y Write s Coz y Mysteries (as told by me, her extremely important magical papillon sidekick) 1.      She’s Squeamish (Like… Dramatically So) Mommy cannot handle guts, gore, or anything that goes “splat” in an unfriendly way. I once saw her apologize to a wilted spinach leaf. Cozy mysteries are her safe little storytelling garden where the worst thing that happens is someone faints politely near a teapot. Much better for everyone’s nerves. Especially mine. I am delicate. 2.      She’s Always Looking for the Good in Everyone Even the suspicious baker with the twitchy eyebrow? “Probably just misunderstood,” she says. Mommy believes everyone has a soft center, like a perfectly baked muffin. So in her stories, villains get unmasked, but they also get explained . Justice… with a side of empathy. (And possibly lemon drizzle.) 3.      She’s Obsessed with Ghosts Not scar...

When I published the first book in my cozy mystery series, I had a fairly simple expectation. I thought I would spend my time writing stories, introducing readers to my characters, and perhaps celebrating the occasional book sale with entirely reasonable levels of excitement. What I did not expect was to become the target of what appeared to be an international effort to help me part with my money. The transformation happened almost overnight. One day I was simply a person who had written a book. The next day I seemed to have entered a parallel universe where hundreds of complete strangers had suddenly become deeply invested in my literary success.  My inbox filled up. Facebook messages began appearing. Comments showed up in unexpected places. Everywhere I turned, someone seemed eager to explain that my book possessed enormous potential and that, fortunately for me, they had a service that could unlock it.   It was strangely flattering at first. Apparently I had written...

Okay. So. Here's the thing. I sat down today with every intention of writing you the most brilliantly crafted, gloriously witty, perfectly cozy social media post about the Papillon series. You know the kind — the ones that make you laugh out loud, hit follow and then buy a slightly haunted cozy mystery involving a very small but extremely opinionated dog.  I had the vibe. I had the energy. I had the snacks. What I did not have, as it turns out, was a single solitary idea. I put my fingers on the keyboard. I stared at the screen. The screen stared back at me with the blank, unblinking patience of a particularly judgmental cat — except in my house, the judgy energy doesn't come from a cat. It comes from a five-pound Papillon named Blueberry who was, at that precise moment, watching me from her perch on the couch with an expression that said, very clearly, "Mom. What are you even doing." And honestly? Fair question, Blueberry. Fair question. Here's the thing nobody t...

There is a very specific expression Blueberry/ Pixie gets on her face whenever she sees me filming something important. Not when I am casually taking a picture of flowers. Not when I am trying to photograph tea beside a stack of books for the six hundredth “cozy author aesthetic” image of my career. No. She waits. Quietly. Patiently. Like a tiny fluffy theatre critic observing rehearsal from the back row. Then, the exact moment I begin recording a serious voiceover about writing, creativity, burnout, publishing, algorithms, reader connection, or “the emotional architecture of mystery fiction”... there she is. Trotting directly through the shot with the confidence of a retired silent film actress who knows perfectly well the audience came for her. Honestly, if she could smoke dramatically through a cigarette holder while murmuring, “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” she absolutely would. And the truly irritating part is that it works. I can spend three hours designi...