What We're Writing: Strawberried Alive by Jenn McKinlay

 Jenn McKinlay: When struggling with a book within a series, I often think about authors who kill off their main characters just so they can stop writing about them.

I won't name names here because...spoilers. But there are a fair few authors who've thrown their characters to the wolves, out the window, or just backed over them with their car, and I get it. 

There are days when the writing is a real struggle and I'm convinced it's time to just blow up the cupcake bakery and call it a day. 

For you, dear readers, I soldier on. That does not mean I don't flirt with the idea of killing off my characters. And here is the evidence, the first chapter of Strawberried Alive, coming in May 2022, you know, if I ever finish the book and don't decide to blow the series sky high in the meantime.

When things don't go well at the cupcake bakery...

     With a sigh, Mel returned to her kitchen and set to work unboxing all of the packed up cupcakes. She carefully removed the white chocolate initials and set them aside on a sheet of parchment paper, then she scraped off the rejected fondant and most of the underlying buttercream. Using a silicone spatula, she flicked the frosting into a large trash can. She was halfway through when the kitchen door swung open and Olivia Puckett, rival baker and current girlfriend to Mels' employee Marty appeared. Olivia surveyed the cupcake covered table and watched Mel scrape another cupcake clean. Then she laughed. It was a full on belly laugh.

     “What happened? Did you mess up an order?”

     Mel eyed the gob of frosting on the end of her spatula and debated flicking it at Olivia. Tempting. It was so tempting. Mel lowered the spatula into the trash can and shook the frosting loose. She felt she should get props for being so mature, especially given that dumping the frosting in the trash can was not nearly as satisfying as watching a glob of frosting splat her baking rival in the face.

      Olivia was still in her chef coat, having just left her bakery Confections. She was undoubtedly here to pick up Marty since they lived together. Mel tried not to feel resentful about everyone else having a fun Friday night while she was stuck here. It was a struggle.

     “No, I didn’t mess up,” Mel said. “The bride changed her primary color from aqua to teal without telling me until a few moments ago. The wedding is tomorrow.”

     Olivia crossed the kitchen to glance at the vast expanse of cupcakes on the table. She let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of boo boos to fix. Was the bride Emerson Henry by any chance?” 

     Mel glanced at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

     “She came to Confections about her wedding,” Olivia said. “Aqua cupcakes with their initials in white chocolate on top, am I right?”

     “You’re right.” Mel gestured to the cupcakes.

     “Yeah, we were already booked out,” Olivia said. “Now I feel like I dodged a bullet.” She patted Mel on the back. Olivia didn’t know her own strength, or maybe she did, as the pat almost sent Mel face forward onto the work table. She caught herself just in time. 

    “You definitely did,” Mel said ruefully. They both studied the table, acknowledging the amount of work that was ahead of Mel.

     “I’d offer to stay and help,” Olivia said. “But I don’t want to.”

     That surprised a laugh out of Mel. The door swung open again and Marty appeared. “We’re all locked up out front, boss. Liv and I are taking off if you’re okay with that?”

     “I’m okay,” Mel said. She must not have sounded convincing because Marty hesitated, so she added, “Seriously, I’m good. Go, get out of here.”

     They didn’t need to be told twice. They crossed through the kitchen and out the backdoor, which closed with a click of the lock behind them. Mel glanced around her kitchen, which she usually considered her sanctuary, and tried not to resent it.

     Mel turned to her trusty Kitchen-Aid mixer to whip up a fresh batch of fondant. She used a gelatin and corn syrup based recipe, so it wasn’t difficult, except that fondant could be persnickety so she had to mind it carefully. When the rolling fondant had reached the right consistency, she put it in the cooler to chill while she prepped a new batch of white chocolate buttercream to spread on the cupcakes.

     Mel had a large screen television mounted on the wall of the kitchen, which she used to watch movies while baking late at night. She flicked through the streaming services until she found a classic Bringing Up Baby. She then picked up her phone and texted her husband Joe, letting him know that she’d be home in a couple of hours. She’d already called to tell him she was working late and he said he and the furry babies eagerly awaited her return. She felt a pang of missing her family. Being married was still very new for her and she still couldn’t believe that she was Mrs. Joe DeLaura.

     As Kate Hepburn sashayed across the screen, Mel began to pipe the fresh buttercream on the raspberry filled cupcakes. She supposed she could have baked the cupcakes all over again, but no. The bride, or princess of the tantrum as Mel thought of her, did not deserve that much labor from her. 

     The movie finished and the next one began while Mel worked. It Happened One Night, a classic, with Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, was halfway through when she finished. Quickly she packed away the cupcakes in the walk in cooler and cleaned up the kitchen. She checked the bakery one more time to make sure everything was clean, switched off, and put away. 

     She retrieved her handbag from the tiny office, formerly a closet, in the corner of the bakery and headed out the door. It was October in south Scottsdale and the heat of the Arizona summer was fading and the nights were blissfully cool. Mel was giddy that she actually had to pause to put on her lightweight hoodie. The Chamber of Commerce weather that was the pride of Arizona was on its way.

     She zipped up her sweatshirt and ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. She set the alarm on the keypad inside the door and had just closed and locked it, when she heard footsteps in the alley behind her. Mel froze. 

     She glanced up at the apartment above the bakery where Oz lived. The lights were off. Maybe it was him, coming home. He was a young man in his twenties. It wasn’t out of character for him to be out this late. Then again, he was a chef and had to be up when the rooster crowed to bake his signature desserts for the Sun Dial Resort where he now worked, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to be out this late. Oz took his job very seriously. 

     Mel turned away from the keypad and glanced into the dark alley behind her. She tried to make her voice strong when she called out, “Oz? Is that you?”

     In the shadow of the dumpster fifty yards away, she saw a figure dressed all in black. She felt her heart skip a beat or three. Every instinct screamed at her to get out of there. She tried the handle on the door but she’d locked it. She fumbled for her keys not caring if she set off the alarm because then at least the police would be notified.

     “Oz, if you’re playing a prank, it’s not funny,” she cried. Please let it be Oz, please, please, please. 

    There was a sudden boom and the brick beside her arm exploded. The person had shot at her! Mel let out shriek and ducked down behind the railing, as if the skinny wrought iron could protect her from a bullet. From her crouched position, she tried to get the key in the lock but her fingers were shaking too hard.

     Over the frantic pounding of her heart, she heard the footsteps coming closer. She tried to cram the key into the lock but it was upside down. She dropped the keys. The light over the back door illuminated the area, making it easy for the shooter to see her, but it also helped her spot her keys. She snatched them up and tried the lock again. 

     Another bullet whizzed through the air and slammed into the metal door above her head, ripping a hole through it. Mel jerked back and curled up into a ball as if she could repel a bullet if she scrunched up tight enough. 

     The footsteps kept coming and Mel realized this was it. Here on her back stoop with traces of teal food coloring under her fingernails and the smell of buttercream wafting off her skin like perfume, she was about to die. 

Will she die? Won't she? I'm not telling. 

How about it, Readers? How do you feel when an author blows up their series by killing off a beloved character? And, Reds, have you ever killed off a character just to be done with them?