Novelists Story Bible: Who did what to whom and why

ONE OF MY writer buddies (an NYT bestseller, btw) was on deadline and forgot the color of an important supporting character’s eyes.

My Story Bible kind of looks like my writer's Pinterest Page skulked out of my keyboard...

My Story Bible kind of looks like my writer’s Pinterest Page skulked out of my keyboard…

Is this important? Maybe not to some writers, but I believe that anything that yanks your reader out of your story should be avoided like hamster avoids a snake farm.

Because she was on such a hard deadline, the character’s eyes were changed to vivid and the author immediately started a Story Bible.

I keep two Story Bibles–one as an extensive Master List, and a shorter one for my Work in Progress.

The first time I ever heard of a Story Bible was during a screenwriting class that used a soap opera story tracker as an example. Using their own tracker helps them get un-stuck, and how they raise characters from the dead–or if the bible shows that the character had a brain transplant, bring them back as an evil twin.

A ‘Story Bible’ is the literary equivalent of a photo album–it keeps track of how a character looks, his or her mannerisms, how they’re related to each other and the main characters.

I like to keep mine short and simple, without having to exhaustively cross-reference every detail–that takes too much time–time that is better spent writing.

How to Create a Story Bible

I keep an open Word document and save it as “WIP Story Bible” behind my main document–that way when I introduce a new character, I copy his or her description as the “walk on stage” and drop it into the open document. And don’t forget to hit “Save” every time you do.

When you’re done for the day, you can organize what you’ve written into your Master Bible.

Table of Contents

Why does your bible need a ToC (Table of Contents)? Same reason everything else needs one–it makes info easier to find.

What’s cool about doing this electronically is that Word Docs can manually update your ToC’s when you adjust them.

In most programs, the way this magic works boils down to one simple word: headings.

Open a new doc and look to the left, near the task bar for the ‘default’ or ‘body text’?

Click the box and look at  ‘Headings’ – Heading 1, 2, and 3 will probably give you the depth you need. From there you can set a ‘style’–how large or bold you want your headings.

I use different levels of headings to ‘drill down’ into your subjects. Like breadcrumbs in an Internet browser, you will find your layout probably organizes itself that it wants to use this structure anyway. So you might end up with one potential set of levels going Plot > Opening Scenes > Introductions > Bad Guy Introduction. Or Characters > Major character > Heroine > Physical attributes > Tattoos.

Now you’ve made a few different pages, head up to the front page of your Story Bible and go (something like) Insert – Indexes and Tables – Table of Contents. You’ll probably have a few settings to play around with. Then, BLAMMO! Your ToC will spring into being.

Have a play. Have a fiddle. Notice how the ToC expands and contracts to cover the changes you make to your Story Bible. Cut a section out? No worries. Expand it dramatically? It handles all that for you.

You can even set your ToC to act as internal hyperlinks, to save you scrolling tediously through pages, trying to find the section that you want. It may take a little bit of fiddling in the Options menus, but I promise it’s worth it.

You’ll find that having a ToC is, essentially, the reason to make yourself a Story Bible. Organization, especially in an endeavor as vital as story-writing, pays infinite dividends in terms of time, consistency, and authority. Use your ToC to rapidly and accurately collect and categorize information in your Bible to help you in the future.

Now, what if you want to see the ever-growing web of relationships between elements of your story?

Indexes
An index serves many of the same functions as a ToC. You insert it into your document in much the same way – traditionally at the end, but wherever suits you best.

Once you have an Index, you need to tell your document what the key words are. The simplest way to do this is to browse through your Story bible once or twice, highlighting and adding the words to the Index as you go.

A hint: Choose the option that means you only need to add a word of interest once. This means that whenever you come across a new topic of interest – let’s say, ‘corpses’ – then you find one instance of the word, add it to your index, and then can easily find all your other necro-affiliated references without resorting to manual porings-over.

What do you want to add to an Index? Anything that catches your fancy. The more comprehensive you are as you build, the more complete your references will be once you’ve finished. At the start, your index will probably be as sparse as your ToC. Once your Story Bible expands to a few dozen pages, though, you’ll be glad you’ve indexed.

So What Goes Into Your Story Bible?

Major Characters Heading

I put my protagonists here, the main antagonists, anyone who’s going to appear regularly through the book, and anyone else who is likely to show up later–think about the Harry Potter series–Arabella Figg, the crazy old cat lady who lives next door to the Dursley’s showed up in Book One–was she important? Not in that book, but it turns out later in the series that she’s a squibb (a non-magical person born to magical parents) who was commissioned to watch over Harry while outside of Hogwarts (his magical boarding school).

Major Characters get subheadings for appearance, background, religious views, relationships with other major characters.

I suggest trying to balance out a combination of facts and observations about your characters. Facts might be things like:

  • Age
  • Sex
  • Height
  • Skin color
  • Hair color
  • Family ties
  • Religion observed
  • Disabilities / Special abilities

I try to riff on these characteristics–kind of like if you were going to describe the person to the police should they wind up missing.

This is also the place where you connect character’s relationships, history, attitudes, etc.

Note: Not all of this will go into your story. It’s only important that you know it. I once read that you should be very specific when writing–if the character had a mole with six hairs, the writing instructor said to include that. I disagree. Unless the six hairs are going to somehow animate, jump out and kill somebody, it’s sufficient to say “he had a hairy mole.”

Minor Characters

These are the people who keep your character’s life running–the office receptionist, Harold the Heavyset Guard, the barkeeper at The Pier, the red-headed waitress who flirts with Logan at the Oasis.

Giving characters names – even if they’re only in one scene -can be a great way of bringing them to life. Note these down here. You can flesh them out if you want, maybe note down the one or two oddities (like an unusual tramp stamp) that make them into real people.

Your protagonist will call people he or she deals with on a daily basis by name, but may call incidental folks (characters who likely will not show up again) by their appearance–i.e. Thug One and Thug Two.

Recurring Groups and Organizations

Cauley works at The Austin Sentinel. The rival paper is The Austin Journal–in Morgue File, I’m planning to have the Sentinel fold and merge with The Journal, which will cause all kinds of problems for our aspiring crime journalist. Mama and her best friend belong to The Charity League. Include any important group or organization and how it relates to the characters, i.e. Mama and Clairee often use their ties with The Charity League to try to set Cauley up on dates.

Having the group dynamics laid out grounds your story more deeply–makes it more realistic.

Settings – Large

Even if you’re basing your work in Earth or another location which everyone’s got a good understanding of, it’s a good idea to have a quick overview of where everything is. This is a great place to go to town with physical facts and descriptions.

It’s also a good place to cover things like what season it is, where exactly in your world the story’s taking place, and anything that might be different about an otherwise-mundane setting.

Settings – Small
Once you start to zoom in closer, you can get into a lot more detail. Here is where you want to break down information about the locales of your story. How small you go is up to you, but any place that gets visited more than once is definitely worth an entry. I keep a picture of a house that look’s like Cauley’s in my Bible, along with a simple diagram of her house’s layout.

Some other areas I diagram or describe are:

Cauley’s office

Cauley’s Jeep

Mama’s kitchen

The Sentinel’s downtown office

Flesh out the places your characters spend time in makes them setting more real, and in turn, makes your characters real people.

Systems

When writing fiction, often there are systems in place in yor story which you need to keep track of.
These systems can be anything – magical, physical properties of your world, political systems of government, courtly etiquette.

Whatever rules you generate for your world go here. For example, in my current novel’s Writing Bible, I have System entries for the innate magical talents of nine different races, the systems electing governing bodies of three different City-States, and some notes on the economic interactions between the three.

Other Resources:

General Histories
Specific histories – the backstory of your characters – are best left in their entries. However, when you create a story, you don’t create the characters in a vacuum. You create your own instance of the world they inhabit. Depending on where, when and how your story is set, you may have a little or a lot of back-story to work on.

Has there been an Apocalypse? A zombie uprising? Even if we don’t find out all the details in the story, it helps if you’ve mapped out What Has Gone Before.
Writing a historical story? Then this is where the summaries of your research go. This is where you lay out the meat and bones of your back-story, the pre-narrative events that bring us up to the points of action and interest.

Think of the General Histories section of your Writing Bible as a verisimilitude-generator. Knowing what has come before makes your story consistent and gives your characters a common framework to base their experiences and attitudes off.

Timeline
What sort of timeline is your story set over? Do you need to make notes of dates in history – either before, during, or after your story? What if you want to plan out a possible sequel, or the latter two thirds of a trilogy? Here’s a great place to lay down a sense of scale.

You can also plot out the time-lines for events in your story in more detail here. Nothing’s more awkward in trying to weave together disparate plot elements, only to realise you’ve given your hero two hours to fly from Paris to New York in order to defuse a bomb…

Outside References
Sometimes, your writing is going to need outside reference material. If it’s historic, then you’re probably going to spend some time with your nose in history books, soaking up characters, events and places. You might want to refer to journal articles, online encyclopaedias, quotes, images. You can use a Reference section to either link to information you’ve found on the ‘Net, or to put it into the body of your Writing bible directly.

This is also great for providing a reference for acknowledgements if you publish your story. Keeping track of the people who’ve helped you in your writing process is important. Thanking them publicly is a great ego boost for them and acknowledges your use of their time and expertise.

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The boys are back in town and they want my dog…

THE BOYS ACROSS the river are back in town and they want my dog.

The boys are back in town and they want my dog...

The boys are back in town and they want my dog…

And so, while I’ve got all available appendages full with friends, family (and a couple of complete strangers) converging on our house for the summer, two of the five lovable little reprobates paddled their canoe across the cove to ask me if they could “take my dog”—these are the same kids that caused me to have to swim over to retrieve my border collie after they had teased, coaxed and bribed my pup across the cove and into their grimy little clutches at least once a week last summer.

I can’t blame the dog for jumping ship.

I’m quite certain five rock-throwing, rope-swinging boys under the age of 10 are way more fun than me, and they usually have a much bigger cache of half-chewed hot dogs.

The dog in question...

The dog in question…

Their mother home schools them, which is why I suppose she had her sofa moved outside so she can lounge around, drinking big glasses of bourbon and Diet Coke while her progeny swim, scream and terrorize small animals.

Last summer she and her hubby bought the boys a hoard of white baby ducks and unleashed them on all of their unsuspecting neighbors.

Hmmm. I wonder how they’d feel if I released a litter of Kracken in their rose bushes?

For a while, the kids were thoroughly enchanted with the ducks, but, as one might suspect, they outgrew the ducks quicker than they outgrew their super-size Under-roos, and the ducks returned the favor, and began attacking the kids when ever they got into the water.

If you’ve never seen a kid get pecked by a duck, you don’t know what you’re missing.

When asked if they could take my dog back across the river, I almost said yes, just to see what would happen when they tried to get my long-legged border collie into their rickety, waterlogged canoe.But even at my most dastardly, I do have limits, and told them they were welcome to play with him on our shore, and asked why, with three dogs of their own to play with, would they need to come avail me of my pooch.

“Duh,” Travis said. “Our dogs don’t like us.”

Hard to imagine why.

When Chap starts in about more kids (he has a perfectly good pair of his own), I always point across the water and say, “Really?”

I understand where he’s coming from.

He is #7 of 12 brothers and sisters, and while I truly love his family, I just have a hard time considering a litter of my own, and gone are the days when you needed a gaggle of strong backed young-uns to help herd cattle.

That’s what the dogs are for.

As the boys took their leave, their mother hefted herself off the sofa, watching as her progeny began to paddle back home.

“You want a couple of kids?” she yelled across the river.

“No thanks,” I said, giving the canoe a little shove. “I already ate.”

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Watch Out: Mama’s on the loose and she’s got a cell phone

THIS WEEKEND, I introduced my mother to Siri, that all-knowing, all-seeing,

Mama and Bodhi meet Jacob at an outdoor cafe--all thanks to Siri

Mama and Bodhi meet Jacob at an outdoor cafe–all thanks to Siri

disembodied voice that lurks inside the iPhone.

Mama with her new iPhone, Bodhi the Wonder Dog, and their new friend Jacob at a pet-friendly cafe, thanks to Siri . . .

My dog Bodhi (who thinks the sun rises and sets on my mother, and is correct) and I went down to Sugar Land for Mother’s Day to celebrate the holiday and help her with the big ice cream social she’d planned.

She’d also asked me to help familiarize her with Facebook and help her pick out a new cell phone, both tasks I took on with pleasure–I’d been after her for years to join the tech-civilization.

“You’re gonna love Siri!” I told Mama as we stood at the kiosk in the Verizon store. She looked at the little phone skeptically.

“But what if I don’t love her?” she said.

“Then you don’t have to keep her,” I said–the same thing, incidentally, I’ve said about every single stray animal I’ve ever dragged home. “But you’re going to love her, because here’s the thing—Siri can help you with all of your community projects! You can take lots of good quality pictures, and it’s got a voice activated schedule and address book. You’ll never have to use Outlook again! And look, it keeps everything organized!”

She glared at the phone, still skeptical, but I knew I’d struck a nerve with the community projects.

And the only thing Mama loves more than the word “organized” is the spanking fresh scent of Clorox on a Saturday afternoon.

Mama is one of those women, who, with her posse of similarly beautiful, like-minded women take on community improvement with a passion.

And, if anybody is fool enough to get in the way of the Ladies of the Terrace and their plans for neighborhood enhancement, he or she will be redecorated, re-purposed or removed.

“Look,” I said, snapping a picture of Bodhi. “You can take pictures of anything, including dog poo, and you can pop it in your PowerPoints to present to management.”

Mama’s eyes lit up.

She loves PowerPoint and has been on an ongoing crusade to persuade irresponsible pet owners to pick up their poo. Mama loves dogs, but greatly dislikes dog poo.

I knew that Siri had her when Mama’s pretty blue eyes lit up with possibility.

But to tie a big ribbon on that particular pink bow, I said, “Watch,” then spoke into the phone as Mama held Bodhi’s leash outside the Verizon store. “Siri, where is the nearest pet-friendly restaurant?”

And Siri immediately shot off a list of fourteen little bistros and bars with outdoor patios. One even had a dog menu.

Mama was sold, and she picked out the pinkest, blingy-est case in the store.

A warning to those who cross her at the next community meeting: Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Here comes Mama. And she’s got an iPhone.

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Unforgettable Characters: setting the page on fire

RECENTLY, I ARRIVED  at a lunch date little late with a bunch of writer friends, and I sat

John Fiennes? Yes please . . .

down in the middle of a conversation they were having about some hot guy name John.

“When will he be back?” my friend Jan Yonkin demanded as I settled, placing my napkin in my lap.

“Who?” I said.

“John!”

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I guess I  wasn’t with you when you met him.”

My friends all sat and stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“What do you mean you don’t know him? You wrote him!” Jan said.

“Oh,” I said, a little embarrassed but completely delighted. “That John . . .”

My friends were talking about John Fiennes, an anti-hero from my first novel, SCOOP, who swooped into my heroine’s life, swept her off her feet and then backed over her heart with his zippy little black BMW.

“He’ll be back,” I assured my friends. “He’s kind of like Racer X. He’s always around, watching over Cauley, you never quite know if he’s good or bad, and he’s going to have a big misunderstanding with hot FBI Agent Tom Logan pretty soon.”

The conversation then turned to how to create characters that become a part of a reader’s life—characters who are so real, you wonder what they’re doing when you’re not around…

So, how do you create a character that makes readers wonder who the character is, if he’s a heart-poundingly hot good guy or a toe-curling, scream-at-the-top of your lungs bad guy?

We’re exploring what makes characters live long past the moment you close your book at the latest class, sponsored by the awesome folks at Low Country Romance Writers. Wanna be part of the witty, wicked fun? Visit http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LRWAonlineclass6/.

We’ll see you there!

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What I did when I wasn’t here . . .

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From Austin to Boston–we love you here, Deep in the Heart of Texas

From Austin to Boston . . . we love you, deep in the heart of Texas

There’s a lot of pain and anger and confusion and anguish to go around today and not a lot of answers. But one thing is certain, and comedian Patton Oswalt decided to make it clear for all of us.

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Adam Mordecai More from Adam »

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They’re Not Sweet Cheeks~They’re Bunny Buns!

EASTER IS SNEAKING up on me. The signs were all there, the peach trees are

Humbow Bunny Buns: Coconut-filled cuteness!

Humbow Bunny Buns: Coconut-filled cuteness!

peaching and my little red oak Chap planted for me when Rosie died and then it got eaten by

a beaver but now, it’s blooming fresh little twigs like an honest-to-God resurrection.

And in the spirit of the season, I’m resurrecting the post with the most–Bunny Buns!

~I LOVE CUTE food. And I love creating little pieces of art that are both delicious and

darling, and make The Princess want to roll up her sleeves and come help in the kitchen.

And while everyone else is having their Spring Fling, binging on jelly beans and Marshmallow Peeps, the Steps and I are in the kitchen whipping up batches of Bunny Buns.

They’re cute and tasty and not quite as bad for you as most Easter sweets, making them one my one of my very favorite Easter confections.

Bunny buns are actually those delicious little Chinese buns (hum bow), slightly sweet and so pillowy and light they melt in your mouth. And while they’re usually stuffed with a bbq pork filling, our little Easter dumplings are crammed full of Eastery, yummy coconut filling!

Warning: These little darlings are addictive . . .

Ingredients:

Filling:

Nip the ears with scissors, poke in the eyes with a blunt-end tooth pick

Nip the ears with scissors, poke in the eyes with a blunt-end tooth pick

Combine:

1 c. sugar
1/2 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
1 1/2 c. flaked coconut
2 tbsp. butter
~Refrigerate, then roll into balls.
Dough:
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup warm milk
1/3 cup warm water
4 tablespoons sugar
1/4 oz active dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon salt

In a small bowl, dissolve 2 tablespoons of the sugar in the milk and water. Sprinkle in the yeast and allow to sit 10 minutes. Mix in the remaining sugar, 2 cups of flour and the salt. Mix until the dough is no longer sticky, adding additional flour as needed. Place dough on a floured service and knead until smooth, about 8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, cover and allow to rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Punch the dough down, roll it into a cylinder. Cut it into 12 equal pieces. Pinch two small balls off each of the 12 pieces for ears, and roll the larger twelve pieces into balls.

Roll each of the larger balls into a circle about 4-6 inches in diameter. Place 1 tablespoon (or slightly more) of filling into the center of the circle. Pull the edges of the circle up over the filling, pinch in the center to seal. Place the buns seam side down on a sheet of parchment paper-lined cookie sheet and repeat for each circle, leave a 2 inch space between each bun.

Pinch the pairs of small balls into bunny ears and attach–you may have to moisten the ears to make them stick. I used knitting needles to poke a pair of eyes into each of the eared bunnies.

Cover and let rise until puffy and light. Brush with a light sesame oil or a light egg wash.

Bake in a preheated 350-degree oven for 15 minutes.

Serve immediately–you can sprinkle them with powdered sugar and or fine coconut flakes, but I think they’re too cute to cover up :)

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Mercenary Kit: When the zombies come I’m tripping you

NOTHING SETS OFF my apocalypse alarm like the internet going down for more 15 minutes, so you can imagine my panic yesterday images-1when the internet went down for 26 and a half hours (yes I counted) and as if that wasn’t reason enough to panic, my cell phone went down.

Of course, my mind went straight to my top three worries: Terrorists blew up the dam, Zombies have risen from the grave, and/or a mob of Angry Republicans roaming the neighborhood.

And of course, I couldn’t find my car keys.

I waited two hours before hiking a mile up to the nearest place with a land line, and I’m not making this up, it’s called “The Little Bit of Ever Thang” store, which stocks one of ever-thang, from a toothbrush to an inboard/outboard boat propeller.

The kid that mans the register at the store confirmed that he too was  sans internet, cell and landline. And that’s when I went into full throttle panic.

He put the flipped over the Open sign, closed the store and we drove the 20 miles to the nearest grocery store, which was not only out of cell, internet and landline, but also electricity.

Turns out I was right about everything but the Zombies.

Contractors for the State were doing demolition on the big bridge over Lake Marble Falls (perilously close to the dam) and knocked out the electrical grid, internet and cell service.

And because I’m now doing the whole when life-hands-you-a-lemon-make-lemon-shots-thing, I’m moving ahead with a plot I’ve been kicking around for my next novel, which is blowing up the Houston Ship Channel.

Because as a writer, it is my sworn duty to make the worst out of a bad situation.

 

 

 

 

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Not so much Eat-Pray-Love as Love, Listen & Shut the Hell Up . . . what I learned from 90 days of meditation

Raining revelations all up in here–to be continued due to Marlowe-The-Wonder-Kitty’s

will you please shut the hell up and feed me?

I got your meditation right here, buddy boy…

important message about a *hungry*…

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Character, plot twists, bad guys & hot guys–can you tell the difference? ~ Chapter 3 of SCOOP

In this chapter, I was strengthening the tension between Cauley and Logan. When I saw

Cauley's front porch is a meeting place for hot guys and bad guys...which one is Logan?

Cauley’s front porch is a meeting place for hot guys and bad guys…which one is Logan?

this scene in my head, it came off kind of like a Hepburn & Tracey scene, where the two are at odds–almost fighting–but the attraction is so thick you can almost taste it.

Adding to the fun-faux-fighting thing is the groundwork for the plot.

See what you think…

Scoop, Chapter 3

When I finally pointed my Jeep down Lakeside Boulevard toward home, it was late afternoon. I was dirty and sticky and my hair felt like twenty pounds of blond mattress

stuffing. Despite the lingering effects of a monstrous hangover, I’d called Burt Buggess, Scooter’s lawbreaking bird man, to go wrangle Sam and take care of the store until Scooter got out of stir.

The warm wind whipped around in the open Jeep, making me feel marginally better. Now all I needed was a shower and a nap and a half a pound of Prozac. I glanced into the rearview mirror. And an emergency hair appointment.

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I stared absently through the windshield, the winding road ahead of me shaded by a leafy arbor of oak trees.

“Why on earth was an FBI agent interested in Scooter Barnes, and why had the SWAT guys come down so hard on the pizza kid?” I said to no one. “I mean, it was a suicide standoff, not some Waco-type siege. It wasn’t like the pizza kid was smuggling guns or bombs into the shed for Scooter.”

Maybe I’d just find that FBI agent and pump him for information…

I almost didn’t see the dog in the road. My heart jammed in my throat and I stomped on the break. The Jeep jerked and skipped toward the animal. The dog had a strange white face and he looked a lot like a wolf. I yanked the wheel a hard right, tires squealing, horn honking as I spun onto the gravel shoulder. The dog stood, staring at me.

“Jeez!” I yelled. There were strict leash laws in my neighborhood. Dogs didn’t just roam the streets like wild animals.

I turned in my seat. “Good grief, dog, who the heck left you in the middle of the road?” But I was yelling at nothing. The dog was gone. I sat for a moment, trying to catch my breath.

When I got my pulse under three hundred thirty, I put the Jeep in gear and headed up the steep hill toward Arroyo Trail and felt marginally better when my eclectic little neighborhood unfolded on the hilltop before me. I live in one of those 1940s lake area neighborhoods that started out as a resort community and evolved into a funky little soccer mom neighborhood. It’s settled along the banks of Lake Austin, but it’s still excitingly close to the downtown corridor of tie-dyed hair and body piercing.

Turning into my drive, I slowed to a stop and stared at my sprawling white porch, where a large man lounged on the porch swing.

“Captain America,” I whispered and sucked in a breath.

Glancing at my reflection in the rearview mirror I swore every swear I could think of and made up a few more for good measure. My cheeks were smudged with red dirt and my hair was an unmitigated disaster. Not exactly a Chic Magazine Glamour Girl moment.

“Cauley MacKinnon?” the man said as he rose from the swing. He was a lot taller and way better looking up close. I sat, glued to the driver’s seat. Why on earth was the hot FBI guy camped out on my doorstep?

“Special Agent Tom Logan, Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He up his badge. “Do you have a minute?”

I blinked at him. “How did you find me?” “Hey.” He grinned. “I’m FBI.”

Chapter Two “Oh. Right,” I said, climbing out of the Jeep. Cauley MacKinnon, mistress of witty

repartee. Tom Logan had a nice smile. He reminded me of Gregory Peck in To Kill a

Mockingbird, good looking in a quiet way. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong chin and no wedding ring. Did I mention tall?

I smacked the dust off the back of my torn jeans and tried to smooth out my hair, wishing I had a ponytail holder.

Special Agent Tom Logan held out a hand and helped me up the steps. Strong grip, and a lefty, too. Looking up, I couldn’t help getting a better look at those dark eyes.

He looked down at me. “You okay?”

“Hm? I just . . . had a bad night,” I stammered, reaching up to smooth my hair. “I mean, a bad day.”

He grinned. “I see that. I noticed you made it through the police line.”

I smiled as winsomely as I could, given that I looked like a ragamuffin. “That’s not a federal offense is it, Agent Logan?”

“That crime scene tape is there for a reason.”

I sighed. “I know, but Scooter’s a friend. He’s done this before. He wasn’t really going to commit suicide.”

Logan nodded. “A repeat suicide attempt. Maybe your friend should have had professional help the first time he tried to bite a bullet.”

I looked up at him and he seemed almost amused, which irritated the hell out of me. Not to mention that he was probably right.

Straightening my shoulders, I said, “Is there a reason for this visit, Agent Logan?” “Just a couple questions,” he said. “And you don’t have to call me agent.” His dark eyes flicked toward the door, and I could tell he was waiting for me to invite

him in. I bit my lip. I’d spent the previous evening drinking my body weight in bourbon and Diet Coke,

bemoaning my current man problems. There were dishes in the sink, and if I remembered correctly, I’d stripped in the living room and left my clothes where they’d dropped. Thank God the stained glass in the front door didn’t allow Agent Logan a clear view into my living room.

“I have a few minutes, but I have a big evening planned,” I said, sliding a glance at the sky hoping God wouldn’t strike me dead for lying.

Logan looked at me like he knew I was lying and pulled a plain black notebook and pen from a pocket inside his suit jacket. “You mind?” he said.

I narrowed my eyes, but shook my head. What harm could come from answering a few questions?

“Could you take me through your conversation with Mr. Barnes while you were breaching the police line?”

He looked up from his notebook. Humor glinted in his dark eyes, and I could see little crinkle lines at the corners. He probably got that humor-glint a lot.

I shrugged. “Nothing to take you through. Scooter called me early this morning and said he wanted to talk, but I was a little late getting out to the shed ”

“He said he wanted to talk to you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But that’s the weird thing. When I got there, he didn’t really say anything. We talked about when we were kids, a little about his wife, that sort of thing.”

“His wife?”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering why an FBI agent was interested in Scooter’s wife. “Honestly. He didn’t say anything, only that she’s leaving him,” I said, and I rose to my tiptoes, trying to sneak a peek at what he was scribbling. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Logan smiled enigmatically. I don’t know how he did it, but his body seemed to shield his notebook without him moving a muscle.

Dropping to normal height, I frowned. “Is the FBI involved with Scott Barnes, or is this personal?”

Logan flipped his pad closed and smiled. “I’ll let you know. Any chance I can talk you into staying out of this?”

I stared at him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. He shook his head. “Thanks for your time.” I watched as he tucked his notebook back into his official, dark gray federal suit

jacket. Before I could stop myself, I tipped my chin and said, “I’m sure you’ve got better

things to do than sit around worrying about me.” “Just doing my job,” he said, and vague sense of disappointment washed over me. “See ya ’round,” Logan said, and he shot me a little salute. Turning, he took the stairs

two at a time, heading for his white Bureau car, which was parked in front of my neighbor’s house. Some reporter I’m going to be. I hadn’t even noticed.

Halfway down the stone path, Logan turned toward me. “Take care of yourself. And keep your doors locked.”

“Hey,” I said, regaining the use of my gray matter. “I have a few questions for you.”

But Logan had already slid into his car and started the engine. I stood on my porch, staring as his taillights skimmed down the street.

And as I turned to the door, I realized the only person who’d been pumped for information was me.

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