Skip to main content

Mystery Writer? Pfft. I’m the Real Brains Behind the Books – Confessions of Pixie the Papillon

Oh hello.

You're here for the author, aren’t you? Sarah something? Writes those cozy mysteries where people drink tea, find dead bodies, and somehow still have time to bake cookies? Yeah, her. Listen, I’m not saying she’s bad at it. I’m just saying… without me, there’d be a lot more plot holes and a lot fewer ghosts, magical clues, or talking dogs.

Let me introduce myself properly.

I’m Pixie, the Papillon. Aka the real power behind the pen. Aka Editor-in-Chief at Thinkingdog Publishing. Aka the Reason She Ever Finishes a Book.

You think she sits down at her desk, lights a candle, and gracefully types out a mystery masterpiece?
No.
She sits in pajamas that may or may not be from last Tuesday, holding a coffee cup like it’s the Holy Grail, muttering things like “Wait, did I already kill off the gardener?” and “Why is there a duck in this chapter?”

That’s where I come in.

The moment she veers too far off track—like, “Let’s make the killer a time-traveling pigeon farmer from the 1600s”—I bark. One sharp bark. Boom. Plot corrected. You’re welcome.

Do you think she notices the subtle sound of ghostly whispers? No. But I do.
Does she sniff the wind and know a secret lies buried beneath the rosebush? Nope.
Does she know how to magically summon a clue with nothing but a tail wag and a look of judgment? Please. Amateur.

Also, she never lets me write my own books. Apparently, publishers are “speciesist” and require “humans” on the byline. A tragedy. I've pitched “The Bark Side of Murder” at least seven times. Nada. But don’t worry—I’ve got a blog now, and I’m not above going viral.

Let’s talk about magic.

She treats magic like a plot device. I treat it like a Tuesday. That glowing mist in the attic? I saw it first. The floating spoon at the café? Definitely not a draft, Karen.

Honestly, I don't want to say she’d be writing thrillers about accounting spreadsheets without me… but she’d be writing thrillers about accounting spreadsheets without me.

So yes, she writes the books. She gets the credit. She smiles at signings while I sit under the table like a furry little unpaid intern. But now the truth is out.



Behind every successful mystery author is a small, scrappy dog with ears like satellite dishes and the judgment of a thousand librarians.

So next time you enjoy one of her cozy mysteries, remember:
The twist you didn’t see coming?
The clue buried in Chapter Four?
The mysterious cat that turns out to be a ghost librarian?

That was all me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to supervise Chapter Seven. She’s trying to make a raccoon the villain again, and it’s… not going well.

Sniffs air dramatically
Yep. Smells like rewrite.

Paws and page-turners,
Pixie 🐾
(Crime-Sniffing Canine Extraordinaire)

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Absolute Madness of Naming Characters

  Let’s talk about one of the most ridiculous struggles of writing a book. No, I’m not talking about the part where you stare at the blinking cursor like it personally insulted your ancestors. I’m talking about naming characters. It should be easy, right? Just slap a name on them and move on? Oh, my sweet summer child. If only. See, naming a character is like naming your kid—except worse, because nobody is going to complain if your kid and their cousin both end up being named Liam. But if your main villain is named Liam and you accidentally give the quirky coffee shop owner in book three the same name? Cue the existential crisis. Let’s walk through the madness. The Overthinking Spiral of Doom You start writing, and there’s that moment: your brand-new character walks onto the page, full of potential. All they need is a name. A simple name. Something strong, something fitting, something— Oh no. Nothing sounds right. This one is too complicated. That one is too simple. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Labour-Free Labour Day? Yes, Please!

Hello and Happy Labour Day to all my lovely North American readers! Now, isn’t it just a little bit ironic that a holiday with the word labour baked right into the name is universally observed by doing absolutely none of it? Zero. Zilch. Unless, of course, you count the rigorous work of flipping burgers, casting fishing lines, and chasing wasps away from the potato salad. Then yes—we are a nation of highly skilled, recreational labourers. Olympic-level loungers, really. This year, I’m wholeheartedly leaning into the contradiction. After an exceptionally busy summer filled with writing deadlines, creative misadventures, and one unfortunate incident involving a Papillon, a pie, and a squirrel (don’t ask—Pixie is still refusing to discuss it), I’m embracing the art of not doing much at all. My Labour Day weekend plans include: Reclining in my favourite chair like a dramatic Victorian heroine recovering from a fainting spell. Watching the endless activity in the harbour just outs...
Post a Comment
Read more

Am I Perfect? Are You Kidding Me?!

Well, folks, let’s talk about something we all love to pretend we’re not – imperfection .  If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this wild ride of being an author, it’s that I am definitely not perfect . And you know what? That’s perfectly fine! (And if anyone tells you they’re perfect, just remind them that we’re all human—unless they’re a robot, in which case, we need to talk about your AI skills.) You see, every time I look back at my earlier works, I cringe just a little. Okay, maybe a lot . Plotholes that I patched over with the kind of flimsy excuses I’d never accept from my kids on homework. There are commas that should be in the witness protection program, hiding far away from the sentence they’re supposed to be part of. And some of the phrases? Oh boy. If I could go back in time, I’d sit myself down and say, “Honey, that line? It’s not even funny, it’s just… confusing.” But here’s the thing – I wrote this . It’s my work, my journey, my creation. And that’s something t...
Post a Comment
Read more