A Good Detective Can Be A Dead Detective

Since publishing my first paranormal mystery, Dying to Know, I’ve published three more. Two in the Oliver Tucker Gumshoe Ghost series (I loathe that moniker), and recently with New Sins for Old Scores. Both these series include a lead character that has some unusual flaws. In my travels and even on some blog responses and reviews, I occasionally get a few eye-rolls or snickers when I talk about my lead characters and how one of them is always living-challenged. Dead. I mean dead. One of my lead characters is always dead.
So where is it written that characters in novels—the epitome of make believe and “not real”—have to be alive and breathing? No one giggles at science fiction or werewolf stories, right? So why are there some that think my having a dead detective is somehow a breach of some unwritten, secret handshake protocol?

 

A couple years ago, I had a reviewer say that he felt some of the things that Oliver Tucker did asked the reader to stray way too far from believability. He felt it detracted from my story and was to unrealistic. Really? Yet, Tuck being a dead detective didn’t bother him at all? Come on, have some imagination! Didn’t you ever see Ghost Hunters or Paranormal Lockdown? Ghost? Topper? Please, it’s a novel and it’s meant to be fun and mysterious and allow the reader to escape a little. Unless, of course, werewolves and vampires and invading behemoth amazon women is everyday life. If you start making rules like that, then most novels won’t qualify by someone’s definition of “reality.” I dare say that unless I’ve missed the news, old Agatha killed off more people in England than might have ever lived there. And whoa, now, Jessica Fletcher wiped out most of Main, Vermont, and New Hampshire three times over. Let’s just remember, characters are there to guide us, to tell their story, to entertain and thrill and perhaps even scare us. If they were always absolutely real to life and perfect, then crimes committed would be solved immediately—or never able to be committed in the first place. Our plots just wouldn’t work and stories would be dull.

No! I say dead characters are people too!

 

Let me explain my living-challenged characters in my two series—Oliver Tucker’s Gumshoe Ghost Mysteries from Midnight Ink, and my current series, New Sins for Old Scores (series not yet named, but let’s call it the Trick McCall Mysteries.

Oliver Tucker’s Gumshoe Ghost Mysteries—Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, Dying to Tell:

 

In the opening book in the series, Dying to Know, Oliver “Tuck” Tucker is killed and returns to hunt his own murderer. In each of the novels, there is a combination of a traditional murder mystery, a historical subplot, and a conclusion that culminates with a grander plot that revolves around Tuck’s long-dead family members who have all played significant roles in true historical events—serial killers, 1940’s mobsters, World War II OSS operations, etc. Throughout the stories, Tuck is a sarcastic, savvy detective who works with his widow, history professor Angel Tucker. Her contributions are only possible because of Tuck’s unusual “dead skills.” These skills are not what you see in the movies. They are a bit more unusual. Some of these skills allow him to relive past events of another story character, but only when he touches something personal or an object integral to the crime. For instance, in Dying to Know, Tuck touches a lost bracelet and it brings him to the murder scene where he watches a murder unfold that directly links, decades later, to his own demise. While Tuck is not clairvoyant and cannot instantly solve the murders through spook-visions, his dead-skills do enable him to bring historical clues and evidence into the light and see the crimes from other’s eyes. Along the way in the book, Tuck learns the ropes of being back among the living but not truly one of them. He narratives the stories and after just a few chapters, you’ll forget he’s a dead detective. He’s an integral character who brings a new twist to the traditional murder mystery. So his being a spirit contributes to the uniqueness of the story, but not as a “ghost story.” It’s simply a murder mystery with a paranormal twist.

The Trick McCall Mysteries—New Sins for Old Scores: In my latest paranormal mystery, Detective Richard Jax is ambushed at an old inn on a stakeout, he's saved by Captain Patrick "Trick" McCall—the ghost of a World War II OSS agent. Trick has been waiting since 1944 for a chance to solve his own murder and prove he wasn’t a traitor. Soon, Jax is a suspect in a string of murders. The murders are linked to smuggling refugees out of the Middle East—a plot similar to the World War II “Operation Paperclip,” an OSS operation that brought scientists out of war-torn Europe to work for the US. Together, they hunt for the link between their pasts—aided by the beautiful and brilliant historian, Dr. Alex Vouros—and are on the trail of a killer. Along the way, they are confronted by some of Washington's elite and one provocative, alluring French Underground agent, Abrielle Chanoux. Somewhere in Trick's memories is a traitor. That traitor killed him. That traitor is killing again. In this story, Trick McCall is Jax’s spirited sidekick. His dead-skills are similar to Oliver Tucker, but not entirely. Again, Trick is not able to swiftly unmask any killers or have clairvoyance in the cases, but he is able to add new dimension to the mysteries. For instance, he likes to “share” people—possess them and allow relive events they’ve or perhaps he’s seen. While coming to terms with being a 1940’s man thrust in 2011, Trick’s indifference to computers and cell phones forces Jax to do things the old fashioned way—footwork and chasing clues. Trick is a sarcastic adventurer who still has a love of life—despite his present dead condition. His abilities to travel to other times and places and see events through other’s eyes gives Jax a view of crimes and events that help solve their cases—a paranormal twist that adds a different aspect to the traditional mystery.

So, as you can see, my living-challenged characters add a new twist to the traditional murder mystery. They allow me to connect my historic subplots to the modern-day murders and give the characters a view of those historic events to help solve the crimes. With a few exceptions, the characters do not act like the stereotypical ghost. They are active, engaged characters who mostly just talk and act like live, breathing characters. They don’t swish around and boo here and there. You’ll easily forget they are spirits—until they traverse the story’s timeline or “share” a character and bring the reader back 75 years to another time and another murder. Then, you’ll begin to understand the importance of my paranormal twists!

 

Remember, a good detective can be a dead detective.

 

We'll talk again next time!

 

Note: My following blog post was written first for Laura's Interests, a stop on my Great Escapes Virtual Book Tour. It was posted July 19. I'm reposting and providing a link to this great sight so you can check out the other stories and posts there ... http://dogsmomvisits.blogspot.com/

Dying ... Life Is Too Short

Today, just now, I sat down to write my monthly blogs—something I procrastinate on and then feverishly bang them out impromptu (it keeps me agile). I was panicked for a topic and tired from travelling around begging looking for fans. I was grasping for a blog idea. A good friend of mine suggested I write about just that—weekend travels for my books and the ups and downs along the way—how tiring and rewarding it is. So I plopped down at my keyboard—iced tea at my right, cat on my left, three dogs beneath my feet—and stared at the keyboard.

And then the news came in.

A heartbreaking story touched me of a local man killed in a tragic automobile accident not far from our home. Shag was a hard-working retail worker at our local Costco that everyone—and I mean everyone—adored for his good nature and kind words. Oddly, I only knew his first name—his nickname was Shag—and I’d just seen him yesterday evening on my way out. His last words to me were, “Be safe, now. Have a nice day.” Yes, sir. Right back at you.

Sadness didn’t have to fill me too far. I was still reeling from last Friday, June 24^th, —my friend and mentor’s birthday. Wally F. would have been 93. He was one of the last OSS—Office of Strategic Services—men from World War II (http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/2015/08/dying-is-not-farewell.html). He was the retired Deputy Director of Communications at CIA. He was the Vice President and General Manager of a former consulting firm where we met. Is, was, will be forever, my best friend. I lost him August 16 of last year. But on Friday, I visited Arlington National Cemetery and had a few words with him. Afterwards, there was lunch at our favorite Greek Taverna where I tipped Retsina in his absence. For days before, and still today, his loss remains ever present. And hearing about Shag—whom I barely knew—strangely stilled me. It reminded me of the brevity of life and the looming mystery none of us can solve—when is it too late?

Life is just too short. Are we living it or waiting and watching it go by?

So, I cannot blog about life on the road or the toils and joys of being an author. I cannot complain about exhaustion and friendships and heartbreak and angst. I cannot blog about life as a writer where I get to do and say and write whatever I wish in the name of my stories. I cannot suggest that my dream coming true is in anyway a misgiving or burden. Even the down days—the terrible days—I cannot.

Searching my computer for the tragedy of Shag’s passing, the headlines turned my other cheek—Istanbul. Terrorists hit again and massacred dozens of innocents. Weeks ago it was Florida. Before that, Paris, California ... others—more and more and more. Unfortunately, I understand those headlines. I get that world. It has been part of my profession my entire life. Bad guys. Victims. Terrorism. Loss.

But vehicle accidents, heart attacks, and age? The end result is the same. None of us is getting out of here alive.

This blog isn’t about my horrible, crazy life as an author—I say that sarcastically with a touch of embarrassment that I would even consider blogging that today, even in jest, about this life I love so much. Not now.  

Life is just too short. We know where we’ve been—what brought us to this day—but we don’t know if tomorrow is there or not. Do we know where we’re going? Why we’re headed there? And with that uncertainty comes the biggest questions we should be asking every day we open our eyes—am I doing what I want? Am I who I want to be? Do I dare reach for what’s missing?

What if …

Some thirty-seven years ago I ran like hell from a small town in Upstate New York seeking adventure and life away from a small farming community where the streets rolled up before dark. I chased life pretty hard and escaped many an adventure unscathed. My dream was to write and travel and swashbuckle. But for the better part of thirty years I skipped my writing dreams and focused on family and career—until a series of events changed my life. First, the company I was COO of was sold out from under me and left me standing alone and scared. The same year, my brother in law, Randy—a dear, close friend—unexpectantly died. In his wake I found myself teetering on the edge of my own medical crisis and wondered if I were next.

And then the questions starting colliding—No, I wasn’t who I wanted to be. No, I had things I damn well wanted to do. Tomorrow would wait. Today was infront of me—in my hand. Now.

I sat and wrote my second novel in fifteen years, and when it was done, wrote two more. My fourth, Dying to Know, was my first published book some 902 days ago and poof, I was an author. Since, I’ve published two more, have another coming out in 2017, and just finished my ninth novel of my career. All of that—every ounce of energy and drive and every word I wrote—came because of the one simple epiphany—life is too short. None of us is getting out of here alive. For me though, they’re going to have to carry me out, because I’m going to be worn out! I realized that I had to reach out and take what I’d chased all my life. There is no “later” or “maybe” or “hope.” There is only now. Only action. Only the realization that I didn’t want to get to the end of life—especially if it sneaked up and bit me in the …—with more regrets than smiles.

So, for friendly, gracious Shag whose life was so tragically stilled, and for Wally and Randy and all the others who have touched my life, I owe it to you all to not blog about poor me the tired, travelling author. I owe it to you to say, “My turn. I’m going to write more books. I’m going to find what’s missing and seize it. I’m going live now. I’m going to make sure that when I die—tonight or fifty years from now—I’m so worn out and ragged that hell won’t have any use for me. I will be answering for my life with “Been there, done that.” Regrets—Ummm, nope, sorry. But boy, do I have stories…

I may never write the great American novel or even a New York Times Best Seller. But I’m going to write a ton of books about life and adventure and fun. I’m going to chase my losses until they’re gains. I’ll ride my Harley until the wheels, or I, fall off from age and decay. I’ll find lost friends and rekindle the kinship, and for new ones, they will know me and I them. Most of all, I won’t take the safe route. I won’t be sheepish and polite and withdraw and let others blaze the trail. I won’t settle for second or third choice because it’s the “correct” or “nice” thing to do. I’m going to live life and suck it dry—ride, write, love, and adventure on. I’m going down in flames. When I die and the devil takes a look at what’s left, he’ll say, “Jesus, what was wrong with you?” And he’ll pass because along my way, I will have made others happy and glad to have known me. They’ll miss me and miss my good work and books and charity and above all, miss my lust for life. And they—and the devil—will envy my choices in life. Maybe somewhere along the way, someone will say, “I’m with him.”

But most of all, I’m going often to Arlington and brag to Wally about my latest adventure and try to one-up his life’s work—I never will of course. Somewhere, he’ll be laughing and shaking his finger and cautioning me about my limits. Even then, neither of us will know what they are.

So for all of you I say again—Life is too short. Dammit, go do something about it!

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell—and New Sins for Old Scores, a new paranormal mystery coming in 2017! He recently finished his new thriller and is beginning three sequels to previous work. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor