Thinkingdog Publishing

So - here's a story that will make you shake your head, and possibly grin into your coffee..... There was once a young(ish) writer—me—who had a dream. A dream of becoming a full-time author. And back in those days, when I was working a “normal” job with real pants and scheduled lunch breaks, I wrote like my life depended on it. I was a writing ninja. A stealth scribe. A literary outlaw with a contraband notebook shoved between HR memos and leftover Post-Its. I mean, I was ON FIRE. Every time I had five minutes to spare—waiting in the breakroom for the microwave, parked outside the vet’s office, pretending to be in a “conference call”—out came the notebook. Words were flying. Characters were developing. Mysteries were unraveling. People thought I was quietly journaling. Nope. I was busy plotting a suspicious death behind the bakery while eating a stale granola bar. Fast forward to today, where writing is my full-time job. And… well. Now I start my day with social media,...

There was a time—not so long ago, but also somehow a lifetime ago—when the internet felt like opening a mysterious little door. You didn’t know what you were going to find. You clicked anyway. And then you just… stayed. Reading. Exploring. Falling down delightful rabbit holes that had absolutely nothing to do with what you originally came for. No pop-ups screaming at you. No perfectly curated lives making you question your existence. Just curiosity and a sense that something interesting was always waiting around the next click. It was fun. And now? Well. Now it’s… a lot. It’s ads stacked on ads stacked on “just one more ad before you get to the thing you actually wanted.” It’s perfectly lit videos with people who somehow look like they woke up flawless and live in homes that have never met a stray sock or a muddy paw. And here I am… In a 100-year-old house that creaks like it has opinions. The lighting? Let’s call it “moody” on a good day and “did a ghost just dim t...

There comes a time in every author’s life when she must face the truth. Not the kind of truth involving plot holes or suspiciously disappearing characters… No. The real truth. That her Papillon is running the entire operation. Hi. Blueberry here. ✨ Professional muse. Magical consultant. Snack supervisor. Occasional ghost liaison. You’re welcome. Let me explain—slowly, clearly, and with just the right amount of sass—why Mommy (yes, that cozy mystery author) would be absolutely, catastrophically lost without me.   1. I Am the Original Magical Papillon (Pixie Wishes She Had My Resume) Listen. Pixie is adorable. She’s iconic. She’s fictional royalty. But where do you think Mommy got the inspiration? Exactly. From this face. From my dramatic stares into the void. From my ability to sense things no one else can (like ghosts… and cheese wrappers opening three rooms away). From my natural flair for the supernatural and the theatrical. Without me, Pixie would ...

7 Totally Accurate Truths About Being a Cozy Mystery Author (With a Diva Papillon) If you think writing cozy mysteries involves sipping tea and quietly plotting in a sunlit nook… I regret to inform you that you’ve been misled. Especially if you share your workspace with a Papillon who believes she is both royalty and your direct supervisor. Here’s what author life really looks like:   1. You are not the main character. You may think you’re writing the book. But the Papillon has already decided she’s the star, the plot twist, and the emotional arc. You’re just… transcription services.   2. Your writing schedule is snack-based. Forget word counts. Your productivity is measured in: Treats dispensed Belly rub breaks Number of times you got up “just for a second”   3. Every scene requires approval. Romantic subplot? Ignored. Murder reveal? Mild interest. Crinkling treat bag? IMMEDIATE FULL ATTENTION. You learn quickly what truly matters.   4. “Quie...

There is a very specific moment that happens to me at gatherings. You know the kind. Someone is balancing a plate of something beige and vaguely festive, someone else is explaining their sourdough starter like it’s a personality trait, and then… it happens. “What do you write again?” “Cozy mysteries,” I say. Pause. Head tilt. “Wait… what’s a cozy mystery?” And this, my friends, is where the magic begins. I lean in a little, because this deserves drama. “Well,” I say, lowering my voice just enough to make it intriguing, “there’s a murder.” Eyebrows go up. Fork pauses mid-air. “But it’s polite,” I add. “No gore. No nightmares. Just… vibes.” Cue the laugh. The polite little “ha ha… huh, that’s cute.” The kind that says they’re not entirely convinced I haven’t just invented a genre to justify my love of tea and fictional crimes. And this is where I say, “Follow me for a minute, will you?” Because here’s the thing. You read true crime, don’t you? You listen to th...

“5 Things I’ve Learned Supervising My Human’s Writing Process” (A Papillon’s Guide to Managing an Introvert Author)   1. “Quiet Writing Time” Is a Lie My human says she is going to “sit quietly and write.” What actually happens: • dramatic gasping • whispering “no no no” at fictional people • intense staring like the laptop has betrayed her I remain calm. Because someone has to. 2. The Heroine Is Always in Danger (For No Reason) At least once per writing session, my human puts her heroine in a completely unnecessary life-threatening situation. Cliffs. Dark alleys. Suspicious strangers. Then she panics. This feels avoidable.   3. The Word “Said” Has Personally Offended Her I don’t know what “said” did. But apparently it is no longer welcome. Now everyone “murmurs,” “whispers,” “breathes,” and occasionally “declares dramatically into the void.” I would like to formally request we bring “said” back.   4. Snacks Are Not Optional There is ...