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I started my work life in a world newspapers where there were written policies on ethics.
When I began writing crime novels, however, no one in publishing ever talked about ethics.
I had to make my own rules.
One: Do not approach writers whom I had profiled for blurbs.
Two: Avoid using stories I had reported in-depth as the springboards for novels.
People who had talked to other reporters?
I felt no compunction about protecting them.
My two writing jobs ended up overlapping for seven years, long enough that my self-imposed rules became tricky.
Im a huge fan, some subjects said during interviews.
One or two asked me to autograph books.
My bosses wouldnt let me report that story, as it turned out.
These homicides they were almost always homicides had a profound impact on me as a girl.
Do you remember what happened there?
When we were teens, two young sisters, Katherine and Sheila Lyon, had disappeared from that mall.
They had long been presumed dead, but their bodies had never been recovered.
If shes lying, whats the endgame?
I did almost no research into the original case because I wasnt writing about the original case.
For my story to work, the girls needed to be teenagers, not preadolescents.
But it angered some readers that I had used a real-life story for inspiration.
There were vicious reviews on Amazon, or so I was told.
(I dont read my Amazon or Goodreads reviews, and I never Google myself.)
At readings, I was asked if I had sought the Lyon familys permission to write the book.
More than a decade after the book was published, this question still comes up.
The nice me: Seeking permission from real-life victims puts a burden on them that they dont deserve.
Theyve been through enough, its selfish and intrusive to ask for their benediction.
Awful me: I dont believe I need anyones permission to write about anything.
My novels are inspired by real-life stories, yes.
But they are not ripped from the headlines, alaLaw & Order.
They dont trade in wink-wink roman a clef games.
Im not a Redditer, investigating cold cases.
I write fiction inspired by real life.
Most of the crimes I have come close to, first- or secondhand, were minor ones.
A pair of new school shoes stolen from an unlocked car.
A backpack of Hebrew school homework taken from our SUV.
Those claimed by Baltimores staggering per capita murder rate are overwhelmingly young, poor, male, and African-American.
Can I literally imagine what his wife, Maria, and his three grown children are going through now?
Or his brother, the celebrated comic crime novelist Carl Hiaasen?
Someone already has, in a sense.
The book, which won multiple awards, struck me as emotionally true then and it still does.
Would his book provide catharsis for someone intimately affected by a mass shooting?
Probably not, but it could be instructive for others.
Joan Didion famously wrote, Writers are always selling someone out.
Eventually, some parents complained.
I showed him how the wording made it impossible to guess which girl I was subtweeting.
Ive been donating character names and book club visits to the neighborhood school for years.)
Obviously, I would never waste such a valuable honor on someone I disliked.
But it also happens to be true.
A lot of crime novelists working now are very clever about sneaking issues into their work.
And when they do this, they are subverting the form in a healthy way.
But what if the worlds not worth putting back together?
I dont think Ill ever take a stab at write fiction about what happened at the AnnapolisCapital-Gazette.
But I find myself hoping that someone does.
