Here’s a snippet of a conversation between me and my best friend at a Jazzercise class some time ago: Me: Did you read about the body found floating in the Pacific? Bestie: Murdered by the scientist, right? Me (tying my shoes): Then decapitated. Bestie (lunging into a calf stretch): I think they only found the torso. Me: Oh, I hadn’t heard that. It was at … Continue reading Why Being a Mystery Author is Murder on my Social Life