All he world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts….
As You Like it by William Shakespeare
 
There is an old adage among writing teachers that says ‘write what you know” which is perhaps the most limiting thing a writer can listen to. Imagine only being able to write about your MFA program or limiting your story possibilities to your high school experiences? Or stories that take place only in your small town?

The truth of it is that a good writer uses the source material of their own life to inform the human reactions in their fiction and the worlds one builds in those stories but just as a start.

Obviously, someone who has had a limited life experience would seem to be at a disadvantage if you wanted to tell a story in another time and place. Say, if one wishes to write a World War Two tale and were born in the 1960s you sure can’t draw on your own life experience, but you can draw on other people’s lived experience by doing research! First person sources, like diaries, journals, news reports or even old movies that show actual locations become a big help.

But period research only gives you the ‘outside’ of a story, that is, what it looks like, maybe even what it sounded like. It is up to the author to get inside the characters, to imagine yourself in that scenario and to imbue the people with the human qualities you have observed in your own life. Even if the characters are not human.

 This is where the ‘write what you know’ applies—you know what mud feel like under your feet, how rain in your face feels, you can extrapolate fear and joy and terror that one might experience in a combat circumstance. The same applies to any location or experience outside your own personal life—research obsessively (at least I do)-- to give it verisimilitude-- and as if you were an actor imagine yourself in the shoes of your character and inhabit them in this new world you have created.

And less you think this applies to only historical or fantasy worlds, remember—in any story you write you have to create the entire reality for the reader. You have to give them not only the color and shape but the feel of the reality that your character is in. Not everyone knows what being in New York is like, or how walking across the Arizona desert feels.

So, a real world on the page--especially in a world where your writing might be read by a world-wide audience. You have to assume your readers are coming on this journey with you for the first time and give them all they need to know.
How is all this relevant to the whole life-mining process? Isn’t this just simple research, basic writing protocols?

Yes and no. I am one of the writers fortunate enough to have had a, shall we say, a colorful life, before turning my full attention to writing. I’ve been shot, stabbed, set on fire, hit by cars and thrown downstairs.

I worked as a book illustrator, a haunted house barker, a bodyguard, a fight choreographer, teacher, actor, jouster and professional stuntman. Most of that list was in professional capacities, and some of it was for real—I have the scars to prove it.

Somewhere in the middle of a tough stunt years ago I decided that while I could always fall down, eventually I would not be able to get up—so I started writing. Part time at first and over a twenty-year period I had work published in magazines, anthologies and then novels, all in a number of genres. Fantasy, mystery, adventure… and then I decided to combine them all in a new series; The Weird Casefiles of Jack Silence!

In Jack Silence is a former stuntman and actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare and lives in a realistically drawn New York where The Convergence has happened—the world of the Fey overlays on ours.

The laws of physics and science no longer apply, and the old magicks have begun to creep back in. Not all at once, mind you, but gradually and with seemingly arbitrary rules. It’s a slow-motion apocalypse where internal combustion engines no longer work but magick carpets do; climate change has nothing on this set of circumstances.

Gargoyles, Pixies, Gnomes, Dragons and all sorts of creatures we’ve taken for granted were fantasy now walk or fly the streets of the Manhattan Island.

Not all smooth sailing as sometimes when the Fey come through the barrier they go mad and become violent—when that happens you have to call a Parafey eliminator and Jack Silence sets himself up in business using his life skills as the Ghostmaker.

In a mix of detective, adventure and fantasy elements Jack gathers a loyal staff—a zombie receptionist, a living stone Gnome office manager and a psychic banisher named Madam Vixen to help with spirit problems.

I can say without lying every character and many of the action scenes in the world of Jack Silence have an analog in my real life (something those in my writing group have noted ‘did you really do that? Or is he based on me?)—I’ll never tell!

So. if you like grounded fantasy adventures then look for Guns, Goons and Goblins, the first Jack Silence book coming out next October from Level Best Books!

To quote the bard—To be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.”

 
Teel James Glenn has killed hundreds and been killed more times—on stage and screen, as forty-plus years as a stuntman, then he decided to do something risky: become an author.

He has dozens of published books in multiple genres, and his poetry and stories have been printed in over two hundred magazines, including Weird Tales, Mystery, Pulp Adventures, Mad, Black Cat Weekly, Cirsova, and Sherlock Holmes Mystery.
He is a Shamus, Silver Falchion and Derringer finalist and won Best Novel 2021 in the Pulp Factory Award and winner of the 2012 Pulp Ark Award for Best Author.
His website is: TheUrbanSwashbuckler.com Facebook: Teel James Glenn  Bsky: @Teelglenn

We’ve all experienced moments when life forces us to change. Maybe it was a job loss, a health crisis, a move across the country, or even a pandemic. These transitions challenge our sense of self and often prompt us to ask: Who am I now?

In my mystery novel Cosplayed to Death, I explore this question through the lens of Claire Fontaine, a former Washington D.C. attorney whose life is upended after surviving a bombing that destroys her law firm. The trauma leaves her with Foreign Accent Syndrome, a rare condition that causes her to speak with a French accent, despite being California-born. As she starts over in a small coastal town as a caterer, Claire becomes a case study in the psychology of reinvention.

Her story mirrors what psychologists call “identity disruption, a psychological "gap" where the old identity no longer fits, but a new one has not yet formed. Claire must write a new story, but like many of us, she isn’t sure how.

Social psychologist Dr. Amy Cuddy’s research on impostor syndrome suggests that when our external identity shifts (new roles, appearances, or careers) we often feel like frauds. Claire feels this tension daily, caught between her old role as a lawyer and her new life as a chef. The problem is also compounded by an online troll who challenges the legitimacy of her French accent and her cooking skills.

Psychologist Erik Erikson’s theory of adult development calls this a battle between “generativity and stagnation” (growth vs. staying stuck in the past). Claire’s transition isn’t just a career change, it’s an identity rupture that forces her to choose between clinging to her past life as a lawyer (stagnation) or embracing the uncertain path of reinvention (generativity). Initially overwhelmed by imposter syndrome, she begins to rediscover herself through food, creativity, and personal expression. In doing so, Claire embodies Erikson’s idea that adulthood requires continuous self-redefinition, turning the kitchen into a space of healing, growth, and authentic transformation.

Other characters in the novel show the darker sides of identity reinvention. Ricky Bingle, a social-climbing narcissist, represents what Dr. Jean Twenge calls “narcissistic self-enhancement.” In Ricky’s decision to buys the captain position reflects an attempt to reshape his identity and create a new, more powerful self-image, even though it’s not backed by his actual skills. Rather than addressing his limitations or genuinely developing his abilities, he seeks to reinvent himself through external status. However, this type of reinvention is more about creating a facade rather than authentic growth.

Renée Efterlig, who completely transforms her body to cosplay as a fictional queen, embodies what researchers refer to as “identity fusion” (when someone integrates the persona of their chosen character into their own identity, feeling a strong emotional connection and sense of belonging to that character). This fusion leads them to embody the character’s traits, values, and actions, sometimes blurring the lines between their real self and the character they portray. Through cosplay, they experience a heightened sense of unity with both the character and the larger fan community.

But Claire’s evolution models something much healthier. Psychologist Dr. Scott Barry Kaufman describes “self-actualization through integration”, the ability to combine different parts of ourselves into a more complete identity. Claire doesn’t reject her past or cling to it; instead, she allows it to inform who she’s becoming: a sleuth, an emergency legal advocate, and a chef. Claire voices this when she says, “I’m not staying in Caper Cove forever,” informing us that she isn’t choosing between versions of herself, but she’s building a broader one.

Psychologists like Dr. Kate McLean call this “autobiographical reasoning” , which is about connecting the past with the present in meaningful ways. It's also central to what researchers term “post-traumatic growth,” where adversity becomes a catalyst for deeper purpose.

As her roommate Torres wisely tells her, “Maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s where you feel like yourself, whatever version of yourself you want to be.” That insight aligns with psychologist Carl Rogers’ idea of congruence—being true to yourself across all life’s changes.

In a culture that glorifies radical makeovers and total reinvention, Cosplayed to Death offers a different message: that growth isn’t about becoming someone new, but becoming more fully yourself.

Elle Jauffret is a French-born American lawyer, former criminal attorney for the California Attorney General's Office, and culinary enthusiast. She graduated from Université Côte d'Azur Law School (France) and the George Washington University Law School (USA) and is an active member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers. An Agatha Award nominee, PenCraft Award recipient, and Claymore Award finalist, Elle volunteers as a write-in host for Sisters in Crime and regularly appears as a panelist, moderator, and guest speaker at conferences across the country (including WonderCon, Comic-Con, San Diego Writers Festival, and Southern California Writers' Conference). She has chaired the Pediatric Literacy Program at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center (aka Bethesda Naval Hospital), promoting children’s literacy among the military community. Elle is an avid consumer of mystery and adventure stories in all forms, especially escape rooms. She lives in Southern California with her family, along the coast of San Diego County, which serves as the backdrop for her Suddenly French Mystery series.
​
You can find her at https://ellejauffret.com or on social media @ellejauffret.

An interviewer asked me recently which I prefer to write: standalones or series? As I await the Level Best Books re-launch of my “Witch Cats of Cambridge” cozy series, the answer is obvious – but not for the reason you may think.

Before I get into it, I should explain that I love all my books. Asking an author if they prefer one work over another is kind of like asking a parent which is their favorite child. My standalones, which tend to be dark (like Hold Me Down or The Butterfly Trap) will always excite me. In these books, I get to explore adult themes and sexuality and really dig into the dark side of humanity. (Yes, I used to write quite a bit about psychology and mental illness, see: Mad House.) Plus, when those books were finished and off to my agent, I felt done with them – I could clean out my head of betrayal, rape, substance abuse, and characters playing off each other, sometimes unintentionally, in some truly twisted ways.

My cozy series, of which there are several, are a different experience. Over the first four “Witch Cat” books, for example, I’ve come to love spending time with (that is, writing about) dear Becca, a smart, well-intentioned young woman who truly believes she has magical powers. And I’ve fallen equally hard for her three cats – Harriet, Laurel, and Clara – who are the ones who actually have magical power and whose primary duty, as it is with all cats, is to keep their person safe.

People have some misconceptions about cozies. Because they’re gentler than other types of mysteries, some think they’re likely to be cloying or cute. In truth, they deal with real emotions, same as my darker books. If anything, they are more reliant on believable human interactions: nobody is evil in a cozy, although some are misled or confused. (Even my killers tend to either have acted on a misguided impulse or gotten worked up beyond their normal states.) Characters must have honest motivations – even if these are based on misperceptions – if readers are going to relate to them. And in cozies, even more than in, say, thrillers, the relationship between the reader and the folks in the book is vital. We read cozies for the plots, sure. But we love them for the characters.

Even animal characters need to pass muster on this point. True, in our everyday lives we may not know exactly what our cats are thinking. But as we commit them to the page, we have to see them as three-dimensional, with their likes and biases, virtues and flaws – as real as any of us. As I write Becca’s three litter-mate pets, Harriet, Laurel, and especially Clara – who, as Becca’s primary caretaker serves as the heart of this series – I’m particularly aware of how real sibling relationships can play out, and how teasing (and even bullying) give way to the underlying love when push comes to shove.

This is where the writer in me should also point out that cozies are not easier to write than darker books. Do you know the old saw about Ginger Rogers? That she did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in heels? Well, that’s true of cozies, too. Sure, we have to plot carefully and people our books with believable characters (both human and feline). Only in the case of cozies we have to make it all seem as light as a souffle – or one of Rogers’s fancy quick steps, all swirling skirts and pumps, with a smile as bright as the sun.

With both kinds of books, I – the writer – immerse myself in their world. I have to think like my characters and, to some extent, see the world as they do. Hear their voices. For the extent of the writing period, this means they’re in my head, my dreams, and my heart.

Which leads me back to that original question: Which do I prefer to write, standalones or cozies? By now you can probably guess that – at least for now – it’s cozies. You see, I’m not only awaiting the re-launch of A Spell of Murder, An Incantation of Cats, A Cat on the Case, and To Conjure a Killer, I’m finishing up final edits on The Cat’s Eye Charm, a new “Witch Cat” mystery, which should be out in December, and looking forward to starting a sixth “Witch Cat.” And that means I get to live in this particular world for a bit longer, savoring its particular brand of warmth and magic. A blend that I hope you readers will enjoy as well.

Won’t you join me?

Clea Simon is the Boston Globe-bestselling author of three nonfiction books and more than 30 mysteries, including World Enough and Hold Me Down, both of which were named “Must Reads” by the Massachusetts Center for the Book. A graduate of Harvard University and former journalist, she has contributed to publications ranging from Salon.com and Harvard Magazine to Yankee and The New York Times. Visit her at www.CleaSimon.com.

I had to noodle for a while to come up with something about my books that differs from what my fellow Besties have to offer. It seems they cover the bases many times over with strong protagonists and unique voices, clever, devious, and twisty plots, and dynamite settings. I also have a sassy, independent young woman protagonist with a chip on her shoulder who lives in an antebellum inn, an antique train station and a caboose, and who gets into all manner of trouble. But she has one skill that other writers don’t employ: graphology, the use of handwriting analysis for personality evaluation.

I’ve been fascinated by handwriting since I was six and my father was institutionalized in a state mental hospital with manic depression. I could tell by his letters how he was doing. Small, very light, downward slanting writing told me he was depressed, while large, powerful writing that dominated the whole page indicated an upward spiral into mania. Of course, little unicorns in the corners were also a hint.

I began studying graphology in earnest in the eighties, became certified at the professional level, and then worked for thirty years with Barbara Harding Associates. We used graphology to create profiles of candidates for hiring, to profile persons of interest for law enforcement, as a tool in counseling and education, for lawyers in jury selections, to evaluate threat letters…so many varied applications where it was important to understand the unique characteristics of personality. My latest application is to incorporate elements of graphology in fiction.

At a recent book signing event, a noted psychologist stated that the study of graphology had been debunked by multiple well-known studies and was basically worthless as a tool. It’s true that graphology is a soft science and that it is not admissible as fact in a court of law. Graphology doesn’t predict behavior any more than a SAT score predicts academic performance. However, centuries of empirical evidence demonstrate its usefulness in the understanding of personality.

Many resist graphology as a useful tool until demonstrations show how accurately the strokes they make represent them. When I had my writing analyzed, my small script suggested a focused, detailed nature that delved deeply, tending toward the expert side rather than the larger picture. My connectors have angles and garlands, two somewhat contradictory traits. Angles indicate an analytical, problem-solving bent, and the tendency to be critical. Garlands suggest a more giving, open nature. Other traits for humor, communication ability, goal setting, etc. were right on. And then there is the large fu-k-you K-buckle in my first name, Katherine, a strong sign of authority resistance.

Think of handwriting as brain writing. Your hand is dumb until it receives explicit directions from your brain, and your brain is different from anyone else’s brain. Your writing is as singular as your brain and as unique as a snowflake. Court-certified document examiners take physical measurements of various aspects of writing to prove or disprove forgery. In contrast, graphologists will interpret a host of both positive negative traits to create a personality profile.

Casey Cavendish, my protagonist, has studied graphology and uses handwriting analysis to understand other players’ characteristics in all three novels. In The Drinking Gourd, Casey painstakingly traces over the writing of her erstwhile friend Jules, over and over and over again, to feel what it’s like to write like Jules. Casey studies the writing. She knows what she’s doing and pays attention to the size and formation and slant of the letters, the spacing between letters and words and the pressure of the pen on the paper. She practices in order to forge a suicide note to save her brother from prosecution. Readers often comment about how they enjoy witnessing how Casey studies the strokes made by Jules.

Try it. Select a writing that you can see is quite different from yours. If you have little letters, try tracing large letters. You’ll feel as if you’re falling off the page. If you are a fast writer, choose an exact, copybook, careful writing. You will be surprised at how frustrating it is to write slowly and to be so exact. If you usually print, try tracing someone’s cursive script. You’ll get a small sense of what it’s like to be another person just by tracing the writing.

In Church Street Under, Casey recognizes her aunt’s forgery on a critical document and uses her knowledge of handwriting to challenge and foil the aunt’s attempt to steal property.
In Caboose, Casey manages the rental of a large mansion. New tenants appear to be a very successful, wealthy young couple, an illusion that is shattered when Casey compares separate notes left by the husband and wife, one of the first clues that points to serious trouble. The husband’s writing shows him to be a driven, angry individual with a penchant for violence and little compassion for others despite his outward affable, public persona. The wife has a gentler mix of traits, but mixes vanity and an appreciation for the finer things with signs of manipulative tendencies. The partnership leads to a conflagration that causes serious trouble for Casey and threatens the couple’s little boy.

I’ve also used handwriting in short stories. One in particular, “Free Advice” focuses on the tendency of friends and acquaintances to ask for a quick and dirty examination of writings which they expect to be free. This story illustrates the danger of concentrating on a single trait—in this instance “decisiveness”—while ignoring other, equally important traits, that lead to disastrous consequences.

In each application, I hope to provide enough analysis to explain the interpretation without delving too deeply into the weeds. If you read these stories, please let me know if the inclusion of graphology enhances your enjoyment. Thanks for reading, Kat
[email protected]
 
 
Katherine Fast received Professional Level certification from the American Association of Handwriting Analysts, and Master Graphotherapist from the Institute of Graphological Science. Working with Barbara Harding Associates, she has applied graphology in personnel screening, executive search, jury selection, and educational counseling. Using her workbook, Graphology the Fast Way, she’s taught courses in California and Massachusetts.

She’s written three novels in the Casey Cavendish Mystery series, The Drinking Gourd, Church Street Under, and Caboose, and has published over thirty short stories in various anthologies.

Someone once asked me how long I spend doing research for my historical crime novels. In truth, I am not sure, but I replied by saying that perhaps fifty percent of my writing time is occupied using digitised newspapers and other online sources to check the accuracy and authenticity of the settings and detail of The Reggie da Costa Mysteries. My research covers everything from crime and criminals, clothes, cars and architecture, to the political, social and economic landscape of Australia in the 1910s and 1920s. I’ve also come to realise that this aspect of my writing life is something I love doing, not only because it provides the information that I require, but also because it satisfies my love of trivia and the bizarre.
 
So here, for your reading pleasure, are some of those little absurdities that have made me chuckle as I pursue my passion as an historical crime writer.
 
My first novel, The Death Mask Murders, was inspired by my work as a volunteer guide at the Old Melbourne Jail. In the cells are displayed death masks of executed felons. This gave me the impetus for a story line: What if the psychopath in The Death Mask Murders had developed a fixation with death masks and created them as ‘trophies’ of his victims?


Back in the real world of Australia in the 1800s, these death masks were created to prove that criminality could be predicted, by applying the pseudo-science of Phrenology. This theory asserted that a person’s character could be determined by the shape, or contours, of their skull. Although this theory has now passed its ‘use-by date’, I was fascinated to learn that some expressions associated with Phrenology are still used today. For example, describing people as ‘well-rounded’, their interests as ‘high-brow’ or low-brow’, or even suggesting that ‘You should get your head read,’ are derived from Phrenology.

Similarly, there were others in the past who ascribed criminal tendencies to certain physical characteristics. Cesare Lombroso, an Italian criminologist from the late nineteenth century, asserted that most murderers who committed crimes of passion had bright or ‘hard’ blue eyes and persisted in staring. To support his case, examples of serial killers were given: Dr Crippen, Frederick Deeming and George Joseph Smith (the ‘Brides-in-the-Bath’ murderer), amongst them. In Pennsylvania, the killers of Joseph Raber were known as ‘The Blue-Eyed Six’.
Followers of Lombroso also believed that criminals were born with heads smaller than normal, again a variation on the theories of Phrenology: that particular physical characteristics were an indication of criminal tendencies.

My second novel, Deadly Intent, features Squizzy Taylor, Australia’s best-known gangster from the 1920s. My research revealed that Joseph Theodore Leslie Taylor, or ‘Squizzy’ as he was known, was nicknamed for his squint. This diminutive jury fixer, thief, sly-grogger and murderer modelled himself on the bootleggers of America’s Prohibition days. He was a flashy dresser, a dandy, favouring iridescent silk shirts, velvet collared coats, patent leather shoes, fawn gloves, silk socks and diamond rings. It was said that when Detective Piggott raided his home, he was surprised to find Squizzy in bed wearing pink silk pyjamas. Not your usual gangster from the wrong side of the tracks!

Another of Squizzy’s idiosyncrasies was his taste in cars: flashy American models that he would leave parked outside a suburban police station when he committed crimes, giving him the perfect alibi. He was also very disorganised and forgot to organise a getaway car in his first foray into armed robbery, forcing him to hail a taxi. 

On a more serious note, Deadly Intent also features the police strike of 1923, when 600 members (or one third) of the Victoria Police failed to report for duty. The newspaper reports were firmly on the side of the government, even though the strikers had valid reasons to protest. Long hours, poor pay, no pension, working seven days a week with one Sunday off a month, and being required to buy their uniforms, made up the major part of the strikers’ complaints. The final straw was the appointment of four Special Supervisors to secretly monitor or spy on ordinary constables on the beat.

The response of the public to the news that the police were on strike was enthusiastic, to say the least. Thousands poured into the city of Melbourne, smashing windows, looting shops, getting drunk, even upending a tram and setting it on fire. A menswear shop, The Leviathan, had an unfortunate and prescient sign in their front window: ‘GENUINE CLEARING SALE’, ‘WHY GO SHABBY?’ The suggestion was taken literally by the mob who helped themselves to the clothing on display. 

Baton-wielding police and volunteers drove the rioters back with fire hoses. Army, air force and navy leave was cancelled. A detachment of 200 men from Queenscliff Garrison Artillery and Engineers was sent to Melbourne, each man issued with 200 rounds of ammunition and carrying a rifle fitted with a bayonet. At the Victoria Barracks, machine guns were also held in readiness. Soldiers and sailors guarded the banks, the treasury, Government House and other public buildings. It was interesting that the government of the day was prepared to deal with the strikers using lethal force.

Another interesting aspect of my research revealed that although the ensuing Royal Commission recommended that the strikers’ demands be granted, not a single striker was re-employed. Another interesting fact was that the government of the day prohibited the export of newsreel footage so that this embarrassing event should not be viewed overseas.

My third novel, A Deadly Game, will be published in June this year. One of the most interesting aspects of researching the book was discovering that the excavation and discovery of the Egyptian pharaoh Tutankhamun prompted an obsession with all things Egyptian. Theme parties, Egyptian style jewellery, décor and artefacts became immensely popular. The downside was that this interest fostered a burgeoning black market in Egyptian treasures throughout the world.

We often think that scam artists and con men and women are a blight on the present day alone, but their presence was felt in the 1800s and 1900s too. In my research for Lies and Deception, I researched some of the more outrageous confidence tricks seen in ‘Scam History’.

Apart from William McCloundy, who sold the Brooklyn Bridge to a tourist, there have been many other examples of infamous scam artists. Not to be outdone, George C. Parker sold Madison Square Garden, General Grant’s Tomb, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Statue of Liberty to gullible buyers. He took up residence in Sing Sing. And then there was Victor Lustig, who became infamous for selling the Eiffel Tower twice for scrap metal. Not to be outdone, Elizabeth Bigley, alias Cassie Chadwick, posed as the illegitimate daughter of industrialist Andrew Carnegie, ripping off the banks for millions of dollars in loans, at a time when women were not allowed to borrow from banks or vote.

On a smaller scale, but just as effective in drawing in the gullible and the naïve, were the snake oil salesmen, peddling patent medicine drugs containing alcohol, morphine, opium or cocaine. Phony claims of their efficacy and lack of government regulation in the late 1800s and early 1900s led to their widespread use. The tragic case of Eben Byers, who took Radithor (radium water) to ease the pain of an injured arm, is perhaps a more extreme example of the effects of pills, salves, lotions and syrups pushed by fake doctors. Byers died of ‘radium poisoning’ in 1932, after his jaw fell off and his bones disintegrated. He was buried in a lead-lined coffin.
​
No doubt, other crime writers apart from me have shaken their heads, chuckled and thought:

‘If I wrote that, no one would believe me!’
 
Laraine Stephens lives in Beaumaris, a suburb of Melbourne, Australia. She worked as a teacher-librarian and Head of Library for over 35 years. After retiring at the end of 2013, she became a writer of historical crime fiction. Apart from writing, she is an avid golfer, loves travelling, going to the football and playing Mahjong, and enjoys reading, restaurants and films. For five years she worked as a volunteer guide at the Old Melbourne Gaol.
 
She is a member of Writers Victoria, Sisters in Crime (Australia), the Australian Crime Writers’ Association, the Historical Novel Society of Australasia, the International Thriller Writers and the Crime Writers’ Association of the United Kingdom.
​
Laraine has a six-book contract with Level Best Books (USA).