Thinkingdog Publishing

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 was a time—oh yes, gather ‘round, it feels slightly historical now—when Friday arrived like a dramatic movie soundtrack moment. You know the one. The clock hit five, and somewhere in the distance, invisible trumpets played. “It’s Friday!!!” Back then, that phrase meant freedom. Escape. Two glorious days where I did not have to think about spreadsheets, customer service emails, or that one person who believed—deep in their soul—that the phrase “the customer is always right” was a legally binding personality trait. Friday was less a day and more a rescue mission. I would shut down my computer with the kind of energy usually reserved for action heroes walking away from explosions. Weekend mode: activated. Brain: off. Joy: cautiously returning. And then… plot twist. I became a full-time author. Now let me tell you something no one puts on the inspirational Pinterest quote boards. When you start doing what you love for a living, you do not suddenly become someone who l...

Forget the selfies, the algorithms, and the “build your personal brand” advice. When it comes to writing my magical Papillon mysteries, my uniform is a little different. Here’s what it really looks like: 1. Sweaters, messy buns, and keyboards Cozy comfort is key. Whether I’m chasing ghosts or crafting enchanted mysteries, nothing fuels the magic like a warm sweater and a comfy workspace. Bonus points if there’s a Papillon curled up nearby! 2. Manuscripts covered in ink and coffee rings Every story starts messy. My pages are filled with handwritten edits, scribbles, and notes to myself. It’s proof that magic (and mysteries) are never perfect on the first try. 3. Stacks of books and endless research I invest in worlds, not trends. Research is my secret ingredient—whether I’m weaving in haunted mansions, enchanted gardens, or a clever canine sidekick, the details matter. 4. Steaming mugs of inspiration Coffee or tea? Yes, please. These little rituals keep me going while ...

There’s something rather magical about this particular moment in time. Here we are… suspended gently between Canada Day and the Fourth of July. Like the literary equivalent of sitting on a porch swing with a cup of tea in one hand and something slightly stronger in the other, watching the world celebrate in bursts of red, white, and… well, more red and white. Full disclosure: I live in Canada. Further disclosure: many of you do not. In fact, you are everywhere. The United States, Australia, New Zealand, across Europe… scattered beautifully across time zones and continents like the most delightful cast of characters I could never quite fit into one book (though don’t think I haven’t considered it). And that got me thinking. Why on earth would I limit myself to celebrating just one country… when I could celebrate with all of you? It feels like the most natural thing in the world, really. After all, stories don’t belong to borders. A cozy mystery doesn’t check your passpo...

There is something I firmly believe about life, writing, and neighborhood fences. Everyone should have an old nemesis. Not a villain-villain. Not someone plotting your dramatic downfall while stroking a suspiciously fluffy cat. No, no. I mean the classic, everyday, slightly ridiculous kind of nemesis. The sort who appears in your life just often enough to raise an eyebrow, spark a rivalry, and add a little spice to the otherwise sensible soup of daily living. For instance, I have one. Blueberry has one. And, if we’re being completely honest, the neighbors may or may not have one in each other. If you’ve ever witnessed two neighbors snarking through a backyard fence, you will understand exactly what I mean. There’s a tone. A rhythm. A sort of polite-but-not-really politeness. “Oh, you’re mowing again.” “Well, SOME of us like tidy lawns.” Cue the slightly-too-loud gate closing. And the funny thing is… if that dynamic suddenly disappeared, the entire street would fee...