“You better watch out, man,” says a friend to my husband, Daniel, after said husband teases me about something. “She spends her days plotting murders. Be nice, or you might be her next victim.” 

Anecdotes similar to that one happen now and then when you write in my current genre. I snicker at the all-in-good-fun jokes and comments implying my fictional crime and murder skills could have real-world applications, but what kind of writer would I be if I didn’t wonder now and then, ‘How would I do it?’ 

I mean, I have done the research.

Ways to dispose of a body. Types of untraceable poisons. Body decomposition. Crime scene cleanup. 

All of these phrases have graced my search history at one time or another. And beyond research, the statistical odds are definitely in my favor. For decades, the US murder-solve rate has been plummeting with some sources suggesting it is now below 50%—granted, a lot of complex and systemic issues affect that number most. Regardless, taking into account the points in the affirmative column of this hypothetical and excepting all of the moral and ethical reasons why I wouldn’t plan a murder, I must admit that I’ve asked the question: Could Allison Pearl get away with murder?

The short answer: Probably not.

More than likely, I would fail and fail spectacularly, being tossed in the clink before my victim’s body went cold. My hit or miss attention-to-detail skills, the unpredictability of reality, and the historical evidence of others who’ve tried and failed all serve as the nails in my murderous coffin, the wrenching slam of my cell door, and the gavel fall that would end my very short ‘killer’ career. 

While I may have enough self-awareness to know my limitations, there have been other authors who’ve tried their hand at the game of murder and failed. Colossally so. Take Dutch writer, Richard Klinkhamer, who confessed and was eventually convicted of murdering his first wife. There was more than a good chance that he wouldn’t have ended up on this list, given the police had no evidence to arrest him. After his crime, he went on with his life, and then inexplicably wrote and gave a manuscript to his agent of all the ways he could have murdered his wife once again arousing suspicion. But at least he was smart enough to wait until after the crime to write his quasi confession. Author, Nancy Crampton Brophy, published an essay on how to murder husbands well before she murdered her own. I am not an I-have-to-see-for-myself kind of learner. I need only look to history to know to keep my murders on the page.

But even if the past didn’t set such a telling precedent, my brain would snitch on me before my mouth would get the chance. Getting the job done, cleaning up the evidence, not leaving a trail, and going unwitnessed are all tasks with a lot of moving parts. Moving parts that would quickly overwhelm and paralyze me. I regularly leave my house, forgetting my keys, purse, phone, or whatever item I told myself to remember to grab on my way out the door. I’ve gone to birthday parties without the wrapped gifts, to the pool without my swimsuit, and—more times than I can count—to Aldi’s without a quarter for a cart. The devil may be in the details, but Allison Pearl is not.

Ultimately though, the most compelling evidence that fictional murder plotting is not a transferable skill into the world of crime is that an author has no control in real life. When planning out my mysteries, I may have outlines, notes, and maps to help me make sure I’ve considered all the variables, not to mention editors to look it all over and search for gaps. But even if all those resources were unavailable, I’m the only one writing the story. I say who does what, when, and how whether it makes sense or not. In real life, I control nothing. 

In the end, though, I’m just fine with the fact that I’d make an incompetent murderer. After all, murder is only fun when it’s fictional.

Hope you enjoyed the read! And if you’d like to read about another murder, download GLAZED SUSPICION!