Police Academy I (For Writers)

Look at me in the police car! I got to turn on all the lights and sirens and say, "Pull over at the next exit," into the radio. It was so exciting. Who knew you could have so much fun at a writer's conference?

Friday I drove down near Cincinnati to attend the Police Academy for Writers. I had a blast! Where else can a civilian spend two days talking with SWAT and ATF agents, street officers, detectives, and vice cops? We had instruction on interrogation, hostage negotiations, fingerprinting, handguns, writing fight scenes, high-risk traffic stops (all demo class), arrest techniques and handcuffing (hands-on). I have a new respect for cops and the work they do on behalf of the public. They really do put their lives at risk everyday, and if you've ever lifted a 40-lb SWAT flak jacket you can appreciate the heavy burden they shoulder. (Groaning at puns is not allowed)

Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when they come for you?

Surprisingly, my mother joined me for the first day, which was all tours. She's not a writer but when she heard the words "morgue tour" she was dying to come. Now that's a bonding experience I won't soon forget. Seriously. Who else's mom would look around an autopsy room and say, "Bekah, did you get a picture of this?" Our morbid curiousity will be the end of us some day. Anyway, I think she has a small idea of what writing research is like now, plus we had a great time. We started with a short presentation on murder and police procedure, moved on to a K-9 demonstration, went to the morgue and picked the coroner's brain, toured a police station, got a fire truck presentation, then finished up with presentations from a prosecuting attorney and a defense lawyer. All good stuff.

We managed to sneak in some shopping and dinner before the Night Owl session, Murder and Mayhem, a presentation on the research of two brutal murders in the Cincinnati area, and the forensics and police work used to solve them. So much discussion followed that we didn't leave until after midnight, forcing us to go to sleep with crime scene photos in our minds. Yuck. They were so interesting though . . . .

Hey, the brain in that one bucket belonged to Abby Normal. Remember her?

As yesterday came to a close, I got to meet with an agent to pitch my book. That's author lingo for, "Sell your soul in 10 minutes flat". I must have done something right. The agent looked over my submission of the first two chapters of my book and told me to email her the full manuscript. Wow. From her profile I didn't think she was a good fit for my novel. I was planning to get her advice on query letters and go home thankful for her comments. I mean, sometimes agents ask for a partial manuscript (I've sent two of those out already), but she wants to see the whole book. Holy Cow! She wants the whole book! This is great. This is rare. I am ecstatic. It couldn't have been a better weekend unless the poor 5-part man in the morgue stood up and lived again. But he got hit by a train and probably doesn't have a leg to stand on. Bummer for him. But what luck for me (?) :)

Qualifying statement: Mom and I learned first hand that those who work in high-stress, life-or-death situations develop a terrible, off-color sense of humor in order to deal with the things they encounter. It was bound to rub off on somebody. Calm down. You're allowed to laugh.

Sign on the outside of the morgue freezer door. Just imagine how many terrified medical examiners had heart attacks inside the freezer before this was posted. Keep that in mind the next time April Fool's Day comes around.

Stay tuned for next week's blog. You just never know where I'll go next.