



I had come to Vladimir Central (still a working prison today) to research the criminal sub-culture of the Russian vory—but I had not known that Alexander Solzenitzen was imprisoned here –or that Stalin’s own son had occupied a cell.
As I mentioned last week, I was working on revisions per my agent's suggestions. She offered copy edits, but then asked for revisions. 
Right now, we're watching e-publishing move from infancy to crawling. Publishing itself is changing, and digital options are nudging the changes at a speed traditional publishing isn't used to.
Ebooks increasingly dominate the market, and with the advent of POD (print-on-demand), self-publishing has grown exponentially. Even as they jump on the electronic bandwagon, conventional publishers must deal with a decreasing customer base, and many bookstores face that same problem. And public libraries – in the next decade or two, will such entities still exist, at least in physical form? For those of you who are Star Trek fans, think of Captain Jean-Luc Picard (to my mind the most philosophical of Enterprise captains) caressing that rarest of antiquities – a hardbound book.
My friend was falling asleep while we were out to dinner tonight. Seems she was up until 3:30am last night. Why? That damn book of yours! Her spouse kept trying to get her to come to bed, but she couldn't put it down. 


After wrapping up notes from the Writers' Police Academy, it's time to plunge into recapping workshops from the Emerald City Conference. The first workshop I attended was about writing emotionally gripping scenes, given by Margie Lawson.
I knew I wanted to be a writer by the time I read my first storybook. Words enthralled me and still hold that particular power. My fascination with stringing words together naturally grew into composing mysteries. I recall an early story about our barn door being left open and one of our horses getting out. Who had left it open and why? No one admitted doing it, so the silence grew into a more sinister saga. The horse was out all night and developed a cough, and I couldn’t ride in a show the next day. Evil forces at work; which opponent wanted me out of the ring?


The second day at the Writers' Police Academy got off with a bang. Literally. We were ushered into a hallway at the college, ostensibly to hear one of the deputies talk about law enforcement on campus. He was interrupted by one of the group, who began shouting about his grades, and that someone had cheated. (He was a plant, of course). The next thing we knew, shots were fired, and someone was on the floor, bleeding. The action moved down the hall to a classroom where we could hear more shouting and more gunshots. The deputy called campus police and the EMS team, and we watched as the paramedics attended to the victims, and the police ushered a classroom full of students outside, hands on their heads. Afterward, we were free to ask questions about what we'd seen and heard.
To become a medical examiner, beyond the normal medical school, internship, and residency, one needs to deal with 250 autopsies, as many homicides as possible, as many crime scenes as possible, and then have lab experiences with DNA, blood spatter, criminalistics, and toxicology (and more).