Thinkingdog Publishing

“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 ...

Truth time? I have a full-blown, popcorn-in-hand, rabbit-hole-diving addiction to watching videos about how to “do well on social media.” Not casually watching - Studying. Observing. Nodding thoughtfully as someone with perfect lighting and cheekbones blessed by the algorithm tells me that if I don’t post three reels a day, engage for forty-seven minutes before and after, use trending audio from a seventeen-second clip of a remix originally posted in 2024, and position my coffee mug at a 32-degree angle… I will vanish into the void. It is both fascinating and mildly terrifying, and I am not going to do any of it. You want to know how I know? Y’all are taking it so serious. Meanwhile, I am over here half-assing my social media presence because I know I have to. I know I should. I know visibility matters. I know marketing is important. I know the algorithm is a mysterious creature that must occasionally be fed. And yet. I don’t particularly want to be o...

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 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...

There are many questions authors get asked when someone discovers what we do for a living. Some are wonderful. Some are curious. Some are slightly alarming. And then there is the one question that makes every author pause, smile politely, and begin frantically rearranging the truth in their head. “What’s your writing process like?” Now, on the surface, this seems like a very reasonable question. Logical even. Professional. It suggests notebooks filled with careful outlines, color-coded cue cards, neat timelines pinned to corkboards, and perhaps a thoughtful cup of tea steaming beside a laptop while the author nods wisely at their own genius. If you ask me this question in public, that is exactly the answer you will get. Oh yes. There will be plotting. There will be structure. I will describe character arcs and narrative beats. There will be references to linear timelines and carefully planned story progression. I may even mention cue cards, because cue cards sound impressive ...

Did you know I record my own audiobooks? I know. It sounds very glamorous, doesn’t it? You might imagine a sleek studio, a glowing microphone, a sound engineer nodding approvingly while I read my words with theatrical perfection. Now allow me to gently replace that image with reality. Reality looks a lot like a cozy mystery author sitting in a carefully engineered blanket fort made of pillows, quilts, and pure determination, whispering dramatically into a microphone while praying the dog does not bark and the refrigerator does not suddenly decide to hum like a jet engine. Is it easy? No. Not even slightly. Recording an audiobook means discovering that your own tongue apparently has a personal vendetta against certain words. Words you wrote. Words you edited. Words you confidently believed were perfectly pronounceable until you had to say them out loud seventeen times. Then there are the unexpected discoveries. For example, you will learn exactly how many sounds exis...