Monday, September 13, 2010

Death Becomes Her

Last Friday I was murdered. Stabbed in the heart 12 times with a butter knife. Did it hurt? Not nearly as much as realizing I couldn't even solve my own death!

I was attending a murder mystery dinner, and turned out to be the victim. My name was Purple, a diva rock star with anger management issues.

As the story unraveled and the guests got into the roles, I really thought a lot about the writing of a mystery. In a novel, clues should be slowly revealed, not too obvious, but clear enough that at the end, if you haven't figured it out, you have a Homer Simpson, "DOH!" moment. The murder mystery dinner did not quite end up that way. The clues were confusing, if not entirely vague, the characters mostly unaware of what they were supposed to do. Not even the murderer guessed that she did it. Speaking of which, the picture is of me and my murderess. The white mask I'm wearing is the representation of death...or something like that.

So, did I have a good time? Absolutely! I was obnoxious, I yelled a lot, and everyone hated me. It was awesome. But with better writing, I think those mystery dinners could really take off.


  1. So sorry to hear about the death of my dear friend Debbie. Even more sorry to hear that she could figure out who done it! LOVE the purple hair.

  2. I've always wanted to go to one of those murder mystery deals. Maybe the Inkers should collaborate on one and then enjoy the party.

  3. Sounds like a blast! I've always wanted to go to one of those murder mystery deals, too, Linda! If the Inkers decide to do one, I'm totally in. :)

  4. So were PLAYING a diva rock star with anger management issues?


  5. I know, Graham. Shocking.

    I definitely think if we have another New Years party this year we should do a murder mystery. We can cast Kirk in the roll of the cross-dressing queen diva :)

  6. I'm in! Kirk would look fabulous!