Thinkingdog Publishing

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. Not journaling. Not “dear diary.” No, no. Full-scale, dramatic, emotionally riveting, possibly suspiciously embellished storytelling. “Active imagination,” they called it. “Lying,” my mother called it. In fairness, I can see her point. If a child comes home from school and claims she single-handedly rescued a flock of endangered geese while befriending a mysterious old woman who may or may not have been a witch… well… questions will be asked. But give me this: those stories had structure. They had pacing. They had emotional arcs. Honestly, they deserved better editorial support. My favorite assignment every single year was the classic: What I Did This Summer. Other kids wrote half a page about popsicles and sunburns. I turned in seven pages without taking a breath. Characters were introduced. Plot twists unfolded. There may have been a subplot involving a dramatic betrayal at a lemonade stand. Looking back, it wasn’...

There’s something wildly comforting about a simple phrase. “Just Do It.” It’s bold. It’s clean. It doesn’t overthink things. It doesn’t spiral into a late-night identity crisis while holding a cup of reheated coffee and wondering if it should also start a podcast, a newsletter, a YouTube channel, and possibly learn interpretive dance for marketing purposes. It just… does it. And honestly? That’s where the magic is. Because here’s what I’ve learned the hard way (and by “hard way,” I mean slightly frazzled, mildly sleep-deprived, and being judged by a very fluffy Papillon named Blueberry): the moment we quietly sneak one tiny word into that phrase— all —everything changes. “Just Do It All.” Oh. Oh no. Now suddenly we are no longer inspired athletes in a motivational montage. We are overwhelmed authors staring at a never-ending checklist that includes social media posting schedules, ad campaigns, newsletter funnels, branding strategies, reader magnets, SEO optimization, an...

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...

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...