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“True crime is in the toilet.” That’s what I was told in 1997 when I signed my first true crime book contract. The speaker didn’t mean that true crime was swirling in the toilet bowl with … well … excrement. She meant it wasn’t selling, though certainly many people believe the genre is bathroom bowl worthy. Despite that toilet statement, my first true crime book hit the New York Times best-seller list. And since then

I asked a friend the other day to pray that I’d find the “right” book to write next. “I want you to write a book with purpose,” she said. I flinched. Every book I’ve written has had purpose, I think. Certainly Wasted and Breaking Point did. Wasted, the story of the murder of Regina Hartwell, allowed me to go into high schools and talk about drug and alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, and physical abuse. St

The other day I was looking at my blog stats and noticed that the post “Regina, Kim, Justin and ‘Wasted’, Again” is by far and away my most viewed post. In fact, I often sit astounded at the way Wasted, my very first true crime book, affects people, sticks with them, and causes readers and TV viewers to search for more information on Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc, and Justin Thomas. Indeed, jus

Since Investigation Discovery network aired its first episode of Deadly Sins and the story of Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc and Justin Thomas, this blog has received well more than 10,000 page views from people searching for more information about the case. I’ve provided photographs from the case, given links to additional information, and pointed readers to an exclusive excerpt from my book about Regina, Kim, a

Apparently Investigation Discovery network has aired again the Deadly Sins episode about Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc, and Justin Thomas, a love triangle that resulted in murder and was the focus of my book Wasted, because my blog is being slammed with hits due to searches for Regina and Kim. After the first airing, I promised to provide you with additional photos, which I’ve failed to do because I’ve gon

Dear Friends of Investigation Discovery:  I had no idea how many of you would be hitting my blog looking for additional information on Regina Hartwell, Kim LeBlanc, Justin Thomas and Wasted. I apologize for not updating this blog in anticipation of that. Rest assured that I will update it ASAP with photos and links to additional information. Unfortunately, I’m on deadline for my next book, Secret Sex Lives. In

I'm a bit stunned that typing that sentence, hitting that period at the end of it, rendered my fingers motionless. It wasn’t the end of the sentence that did it. Mixed emotions did, emotions I didn't realize I had until that moment.

Today, Kingwood, Texas, friend and fan Courtney Little posted the above photo on her Facebook page with the words, “Suzy, today I’m lunching with Celeste. Haha! I’m a little scared …” Celeste is the killer in my true crime book The Fortune Hunter. So, yes, if Courtney truly were having lunch with Celeste, she should be scared. Celeste is frightening, but she’s also very entertainin

I recently mentioned on Facebook that I have a fantasy of seeing someone on the beach reading one of my books.  Perhaps that’s not a fantasy you’d expect from a woman who has spent the past five years researching sex.  But I think it is a fantasy of many writers of books.  And since I am, first and foremost, a writer of books, … well, you get the idea. So, this morning, I opened Facebook and found t

I want to curl into pill bug formation and protect myself.  I’m sitting in a Schlotsky’s restaurant.  It used to be the best Schlotsky’s in the nation with upscale décor and classical music.  That was back when the founders of Schlotsky’s owned the place.  But then they expanded the company too quickly, got into financial trouble and sold the chain to Texas Burger.  Texas Burger sold it to … lord, I lost track.  All

Suzy remembers Liz Carpenter, Molly Ivins, and Governor Ann Richards.

Some people suffer writer’s block. I suffer writer’s terror. That’s when I’m so terrified of being judged or so terrified of repeating past mistakes, so terrified that I can’t live up to that talent that I know I have but fear I’ve lost, that I ...

I don’t need no stinkin’ pity. I guess that’s a rather harsh reaction, but the other day ...

To say it’s blustery here in the ATX on this Christmas Eve is an understatement. The wind wails outside my office. The outhouse down the street is blown over on its side.

My point, as I write this on Halloween Eve, is the ghost of Regina Hartwell. Because of Regina, I couldn’t let this book go. Regina wanted to be famous. And I felt like that as long as I pushed and promoted this book I was helping her reach her goal, even if it was after death.