Mystery author Wendy L. Koenig joins me today to chat about her new thriller, On the Sly.
Bio:
Wendy Koenig has been writing since a young child in Illinois, filling spirals with poetry and short stories. It wasn’t until after a short stint in the military, that she began working on novels. It was also then that she began seeking publication.
Her first piece to be printed was a short children’s fiction serialized in her local newspaper. She attended University of Iowa, honing her craft in their famed summer workshops and writing programs. She graduated from University of Maine, Presque Isle, in 2006. Her first novel was published in 2007. Since that time, she has published and co-authored numerous books. Several of her pieces have taken international awards.
Welcome, Wendy. Please tell us about your current release.
On The Sly follows a young bar owner in St. Louis, Missouri. She finds the body of an ex-cop in her bar and quickly becomes the primary and only suspect. Being the daughter of a small-town cop, she decides to launch her own investigation, but quickly realizes someone she loves could be next on the killer’s list if she doesn’t catch him first.
What inspired you to write this book?
Ironically, it was the idea of her two dogs that got me going. I had to figure out what kind of person would own them and what would/could happen to her.
Excerpt from On the Sly:
Reaching the door, I leaned into it, listening. Silent as a ball of cotton. The key slid smoothly into the lock and turned. I eased open the door. Watched and listened for any movement or noise. Nothing. I slipped my arm in and turned on my lights. The alarm was already off.
Mayhem erupted from my backyard as my dogs snarled and threw themselves at the sliding glass door with angsted fervor. I hadn’t let them out there. Maybe Aaron had stopped by. But the dogs were clearly upset, and they wouldn’t be if it had been my brother who’d visited.
Even if there was a noise, I wouldn’t hear it over the violent ruckus. I sidled into the room. Nothing but my blue furniture and beige carpet. Through the glass door, I saw Ruffles was foaming and standing stock still. When he moved, it was with the stiff-legged, high-toed, movements of a mechanical being. His upper lip was curled completely over his nose and the resulting sound came through the glass like an outboard motor. I’d never seen him so livid, and I honestly wondered how he could breathe like that.
Satan was throwing herself at the door again and again, as if she were a small missile that would weaken and eventually punch through the glass. I could picture the trauma her body experienced every time she made contact. If I didn’t do something fast, she would be covered in bruises, maybe even broken bones.
Something had upset them so much that even my presence didn’t calm them. Moving quickly through my home, I cleared all the rooms; no one was hidden anywhere. Then, I put the safety back on the gun, set it down, and went to focus on my poor dogs. I pulled out the rod I kept in the track. That’s when I noticed the dark brown handprint on the sliding door.
Unless I missed my guess, that was dried blood.
I pulled my cellphone and dialed Eccheli. It took him a long time to answer, and he didn’t sound too happy, but his sleep-cracked voice got animated the moment I explained what had happened.
He said, “Don’t touch anything. We’ll be right there.”
“My dogs might be injured. I need to go out there and check them.” Satan had calmed a little, but she still paced the window in agitation. Ruffles was standing stock still, growling.
He hesitated. “Do you have kitchen gloves?”
“I have painter’s gloves.” Actually, I didn’t. But I did have some of the gloves the police left behind at the bar. Close enough.
“Perfect. Go out to them, don’t let them in. We’ll get there right away.” He disconnected.
I probably was working my way back up Johnson’s ‘person of interest’ list with this middle of the night phone call. Nothing to be done about it.
When he’d said they’d get there right away, he wasn’t kidding. I’d managed to find my gloves, put them on, and had only been outside a few minutes. I was sitting in the soaked grass, trying to calm a frantic Satan so I could inspect her for injuries when my cellphone vibrated against my thigh.
What exciting project are you working on next?
I’m editing the sequel to this one, titled Sly as a Fox, and writing notes on the third in the series, tentatively titled Thrice Sly.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
Somewhere around my third novel, I thought ‘I can do this. I really can’.
Do you write full-time? If so, what’s your workday like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
To me, writing full-time means writing 40 hours a week. I don’t do that. But I do work on my writing for a few hours nearly every day, whether it’s marketing, planning, editing, working on my website, or actually writing. It’s always something.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
When I edit, I read aloud to my cats. I find they’re very quick to point out the failings in my story.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
An astronaut. Or a veterinarian. Whichever came first.
Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
I love to hear from people. I really do. What they liked or didn’t like. If they have ideas for my characters. Anything. Feel free to leave messages on my Facebook page.