The Writing Life: Carolyn Hart
A writer of murder mysteries looks back at the body count and asks what made her do it.

By Carolyn Hart
Sunday, November 18, 2007

When I was 11, I decided to be a reporter when I grew up. I had no idea I would end up devoting my life to murder.

I worked on school newspapers and majored in journalism at the University of Oklahoma, back in the days of hot type, pica poles and Speed Graphics. In j-school, I wore a trench coat, smoked Chesterfields (successfully discarded years ago) and was sure I would be the next Maggie Higgins. But, as the adage informs: Man proposes, God disposes.

I met a young law student, we married, and I worked on a local newspaper for a while, then got a job in the public information office at the university. After we started our family, I quit work and stayed home. This was before young women were expected to work full time, have a family, bake cookies for the school sale and climb the Matterhorn in their spare time.

I missed writing. I didn't want to go back to reporting because of the long hours. That's when I first thought about writing fiction. In the Writer magazine, I saw an announcement of a contest for a mystery novel for girls aged 8 to 12. I adored Nancy Drew and decided to give it a try. The Secret of the Cellars won the contest and was published in 1964. I am now writing my 42nd novel, Dare to Die, the 19th in the Death on Demand series. It will be published in the spring of 2009. So far, I've written two children's mysteries, three young adult suspense novels and 36 adult mystery or suspense novels. 2008 will also see publication of the first book in a new series, Ghost at Work. The late Bailey Ruth Raeburn, an impetuous redheaded ghost, returns to earth to help someone in trouble. She moves a body, investigates a murder, saves a marriage, prevents a suicide and -- in a fiery finale -- rescues a child who knows too much. I have never had more fun writing a book.

So many books. All of them mysteries.

"Why mysteries?"

"When will you write a real book?"

"Why do you want to write about murder?"

When asked these questions on my book tours, I know immediately that the questioners don't read mysteries. Murder is never the point of the mystery. Mysteries are about the messes people make of their lives and how they cope.

The genre captured my heart when I read my first Nancy Drew novel. I was thrilled by the challenges posed for Nancy Drew and for the Hardy boys, absorbed by the puzzles they ran up against, and inspired by their courage and devotion to justice. Nancy's snazzy roadster, her amazing independence and handsome sidekick Ned were also a plus. As for serious Frank and fun-loving Joe Hardy, who wouldn't want to spend time with them? I always think of Max Darling, my own Annie's handsome blond husband, as Joe Hardy all grown up and sexy as hell.

Suspense, a puzzle and courage, these are the hallmarks of a good kids' mystery. But the mystery offers even more to adults.

To start at the beginning: There are two kinds of mysteries, the crime novel and the traditional classic.

The crime novel features Dashiell Hammett's Sam Spade or Sara Paretsky's V. I. Warshawski. The crime novel is the story of an honorable man or woman who tries to remain uncorrupted in a corrupt world. It is the story of the protagonist and not of the murders that are solved. These books are about the quest for honor.

My own particular love is the traditional mystery. These books are sometimes dismissed by devotees of the crime novel as unrealistic, "cozy" little stories of drawing room crimes in little villages.

Agatha Christie, whose books have now sold in excess of two billion, knew better. There may not be a body in the drawing room, but there will always be pain and passion, heartbreak and violence, despair and fury -- be it in city or country. Christie knew life as most readers live it, ordinary, unremarkable and fraught with emotion.

Christie once compared the mystery to the medieval morality play. In the play, audiences saw graphic representations of what happens to lives dominated by lust, gluttony, sloth and all the deadly sins. This is what today's mysteries offer in a more sophisticated guise.

The sleuth in the traditional mystery explores the relationships between the victim and those around him or her. The detective wants to know what caused the turmoil in their lives. Readers extrapolate the lessons for their own use, for their own lives. (If this, Dear Reader, is how you treat others. . . .) Thankfully, everyday dramas do not usually end in murder, but violent emotions provoked by fractured relationships corrode the lives of all involved, often forever. This is what the traditional mystery is all about. It focuses on the intimate, destructive, frightening secrets hidden beneath a seemingly placid surface. Readers know the cast: the jealous mother, the miserly uncle, the impossible boss, the belittling friend, the woman who confuses sex with love, the selfish sister.

What could be more humdrum than life as most of us live it? Aren't those everyday tales of murder nonsense?

No. Nothing can be more powerful than jealousy, anger, hatred, lust and fear.

I suppose true crime stories work in the same way. But even though I've spent a lifetime with murder, I find it hard to read accounts of real crimes. I find them too harrowing, the violence and heartbreak too real. In my own books, I am always looking for the redemptive side of things: trying to understand the human passions that destroy and offering homage to the detective who brings peace and understanding.

Even though the body count in my many books is by now horrific, I am grateful for my life with murder. It has put me in the best of company. Mystery readers are good people. Every time they read a mystery they reaffirm a commitment to decency and justice.

Every day we see proof that evil can triumph. But there is a world, too, where goodness prevails, where justice is served, where decency is celebrated. I and so many readers find that world in the mystery. *