A reader asked me why I’m so good at creating bad guys. The answer is, I don’t know. Sometimes I scare myself.
My husband knew that if I was writing, he couldn’t just walk into the room and start talking to me because if I was writing a scary part, I would scream and jump out of my chair. So Carl would bang his hand on the wall as he approached, to let me know he was coming down the hall toward my office. That way I knew it was him, and not an escaped convict with a knife.