That Darn Dog
When I started the Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series an embarrassing number of
years ago, it was because I loved dog mysteries, but no one was writing about
actual dogs. In keeping with the standards of the cozy mystery
genre (and, of course, if a book features a woman and a dog it must be
a cozy, right?) they weren't writing about actual people either, but that's
another story. I wanted to write-- and read-- books about the
relationship between real dogs and real people; thus Raine and Cisco were
born. I had no idea what I was getting into.
I am
jealous of writers who only write mysteries. As Ginger Rogers
famously said to Fred Astaire (or not), "Oh, yeah? Try doing that
backwards and in heels!". I want to say to writers of mysteries
everywhere, "Oh, yeah? Try writing that with a dog!"
Writing
mysteries is hard. Writing dog mysteries, if you do it right, is
harder. In a real dog mystery, the dog is a character who is just as
vivid as the human narrator. He has a personality, an agenda, and a raison
d’etre unique to him. He appears in every scene unless he has a very
good reason not to, and even then he is referenced. He moves the plot
forward. He doesn't have to perform Lassie-like feats of heroism to save
the day, but he must be essential to the story. It's a dog mystery,
not a mystery that happens to have a dog in it.
With
this in mind, I have absolutely no explanation for why I thought it would be a
nice change of pace to start a second mystery series several years ago-- this
time giving the dog a point of view. I have read-- or tried to read-- other
books from the dog's point of view and found them silly or pointless. I
definitely wanted to avoid those traps! This was a problem since the main
role I envisioned Flash the border collie playing in Flash: Dogleg
Island Mystery #1 was as the only eyewitness to a brutal murder. How
was Flash supposed to relay this information without seeming silly and
unrealistic? More importantly, how was I going to abide by my own rules
for a real dog mystery, which are based on respect for the dog and the reader,
without giving the plot away? Trust me, it wasn't easy.
In the
Dogleg Island mysteries, Flash is what I like to think of as a spiritual or
philosophical narrator. Yes, he sometimes holds clues to the mystery his human
companions are trying to solve, but for him the biggest mystery of all, and one
he is constantly trying to solve, is the human condition. His job is not to put
together clues and track down bad guys, although he does like to think it
is. His real job is to make sure that law officers Aggie and Grady do not
succumb to the darkness that is a constant threat in their line of work, but
hold on to the spirit of hope and optimism that dwell eternally in the heart of
a dog.
Because
I chose to make Flash a central part of the theme, rather than the plot, of the
Dogleg Island series, I have been able to deal with some dark subjects without
completely losing the innocence that I think is characteristic of a dog mystery.
Much to my surprise, writing from the dog’s point of view has enriched my
storytelling by allowing me to explore the complexities of human nature through
the simple but profound truths dogs live by.
Dead Man’s Trail was book #16 in the Raine Stockton Dog Mystery series, and
I am now in the middle of A Flash of Shadow, book #7 in the Dogleg
Island series. That’s 23 dog mysteries, folks (plus three dog mystery novellas),
and while I still feel like I’m dancing backwards and in heels, the journey has
been worth it. Thank you for sharing the adventure with me! Here’s to the dogs
who inspire us, comfort us, and walk beside us through every mystery life
presents.
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