Death and Dismemberment on Golden Pond

I don’t often write about the reasons behind the choices I make in my novels. But I thought readers might find it interesting to learn why I chose to set my forthcoming Mike Bowditch novel, Dead Man’s Wake, on Great Pond in Belgrade. In general I prefer to set the stories in real Maine place, but sometimes that isn’t possible, given the violent content. (I don’t want people freaking out about real seabird islands!)

With Dead Man’s Wake, I needed a real lake with an affluent summer population. Having never written about that corner of Kennebec County, I decided that the time had come for me to visit the historic Belgrade Lakes region. The area is home to some crazy episodes many of which didn’t get into the novel. Elizabeth Arden once ran a destination spa there. Judge Crater famously disappeared on his way back to his cottage in Belgrade.

Some things that did make the novel: The lakes are home to some of Maine’s most storied summer camps. My favorite Maine author (E.B. White) wrote my favorite Maine essay (“Once More to the Lake") about Great Pond. A mailboat still delivers mail to docks along the water in an age when the Postal Service is slashing services to the bone everywhere else. And a very famous play and movie rebranded the lake forever as “Golden Pond” (although the film with the Fondas was made in New Hampshire). Indeed, a friend who is a year-round Belgrade resident introduced me to the concept of “Golden Pond Syndrome” which still entices starry-eyed cottage buyers to purchase property along a pond that bears little resemblance to its fictional ideal.

Writing murder mysteries is an inherently subversive, macabre, and often perverse activity, and I must confess that I couldn’t think of a better place to set my wickedly violent tale than a lake enveloped in such an enduring pink cloud. The Mike Bowditch books are about showing the Maine you find scurrying and wriggling when you lift the log labeled Vacationland and expose the underside to the light. What better place to expose the dirty underside than “Golden Pond”?

About My Short Stories....

For the past half dozen years or so I have written a Mike Bowditch short story for Minotaur Books timed to come out in advance of each new novel.

I really enjoy the chance to play with different styles (“The Caretaker” is my twist on a Sherlock Homes story, for instance) and fill in the backstory of some of the characters. It was a great moment in my life when one of these stories, "Rabid," was a finalist for the 2019 Edgar Award.

Unfortunately, my stories have also caused surprising trouble for me. Some readers, misguided by inaccurate websites (including a few sites that know better, cough, Macmillan), jump to the conclusion that the stories are actual full-length novels. And these readers are upset that they can't locate “The Imposter” or “Backtrack” in bookstores and libraries.

More frequently, I get complaints about the format. The only way to publish a single short story is digitally (although mine are also recorded for audio), and I hear from many fans who won't (or admittedly can't) read on a screen. To be clear: you don't need a dedicated device, such as a Kindle or iPad, to do so. Amazon offers that option to purchase and read a book or story on your computer (as does Apple). So if you are reading this post now on Facebook or elsewhere, you can read "Rabid." You have the technology! Until such time as I have enough stories for Macmillan Publishing to bring out a printed collection (no guarantees it will happen but fingers crossed), this is the only way for me to offer short stories to my fans.

This blog post is all prefatory to my announcing that I have a long short story (or a short novella) titled “Skin and Bones” coming out digitally on May 5. It will be available as an audio in June. I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

PW Calls My New Book "Nail-Biting...The Best Yet in A Superior Series"

In a prized starred review Publishers Weekly has proclaimed that my forthcoming 12th Mike Bowditch novel is “nail-biting” and “the best yet in a superior series.” I am not the best at assessing my own books, but I have felt all along that this one is special, and I’m glad to see that critics agree.

Good News for Mike Bowditch Fans

Today is my last day as Editor in Chief of Down East Magazine. I am stepping aside to focus on my novels. The November issue, out in a few weeks, is officially my last.

For years people have asked me how I have managed to balance both careers (the answer is "by sacrificing everything else"), but the time finally came for me to choose. Fans of Mike Bowditch will be seeing a lot more of him as a result. Happily, I'm staying on at the magazine in the newly created position of Editor Emeritus which mostly means I will be an on-call editorial consultant and troubleshooter. 

But this is a day of departure for me, made more sweet than bittersweet by good news from the International Regional Magazine Association. Down East dominated this year's awards, winning more than any other magazine.

Update on 2013-10-11 16:45 by Paul Doiron

Which brings to mind an episode of "Seinfeld":

JERRY: "Showmanship, George. When you hit that high note, you say goodnight and walk off."

GEORGE: "I can't just leave."

JERRY: "That's the way they do it in Vegas."

GEORGE: "You never played Vegas."

JERRY: "I hear things."

What It Feels Like to Be Struck by Lightning

I have written about being struck by lightning on several occasions, but the Independent in London recently asked me to give an account for its "Five-Minute Memoir" series to coincide with the publication of The Poacher's Son in the United Kingdom.

Here's an excerpt:

On the first night I suffered from dark dreams: I was a soldier on a muddy, bloody battlefield; then a phone rang telling me my mother had just died. The next day, as darkness fell and mist turned to rain, I dreaded the thought of sleep. Before turning in, I decided to move my tent from under a balsam fir into the centre of the clearing.

Two hours later I was awakened by a crack of thunder. I lay on my side, listening as rain drove against the tarp, feeling the fabric shiver in the wind. Lightning flashed again and again. I tried to go back to sleep.

It all happened in an instant: the pulse of white light, the burning pain of electricity coursing through my body, the jolt of being blasted off the ground. The sound of the explosion lagged a split-second behind. For moments afterward, I lay paralysed, breathless, unbelieving.

You can read the rest here. As you can imagine, there's a lot more to the story than what I've written in this essay, and like most harrowing adventures it's best retold in person, usually over drinks. Eventually, I expect to weave my near-death experience into a novel—although Mike Bowditch is so luckless I can't imagine inflicting near electrocution on him as well!