I grew up around the dead.
That might sound dramatic, but when your dad is the county medical examiner and his office is set up in your house, it feels a bit like horror movie. I didn’t know that my childhood wasn’t normal. While other kids were watching Saturday morning cartoons, I absorbing kitchen table discussions about cause of death and cleaning body bags on the front lawn.
Unconventional? Absolutely. And it shaped everything about the writer and person I am today.
Welcome to the House That Forensics Built
My childhood home in rural northern Michigan doubled as our county’s unofficial morgue. Why? Because the county didn’t have the budget for an official M.E. facility, so my dad improvised. Bodies were transported in our family Suburban, “Old Blue”, and autopsy supplies were tucked under the bench seat next to the snow scraper. Organ cross sections shared freezer space with our pork chops and popsicles. Vials of blood samples were stored in our basement “sodapop” fridge.
I wish I were exaggerating.
Dad kept files, photographs, and body diagrams on the kitchen table like most families kept bills and junk mail. When people asked what my dad did for work, I used to mumble something vague and pray for a subject change. In the 80s, before CSI glamorized autopsies and trace evidence, nobody really knew what a medical examiner was, and I didn’t exactly want to explain that my dad spent his days cutting up corpses to figure out how they died.
But that strange, shadowy childhood stuck with me. And eventually, it would become the spark behind my storytelling.
From the Morgue to the Page
When I tell people I grew up with autopsy reports on the kitchen table, they laugh,then realize I’m not kidding. But here’s the thing: being raised around death gave me a deep appreciation for life. It also taught me that stories are everywhere… even in silence.
I always knew I wanted to be a writer. But it took me a while to get on the professional path to publication. And when I started to take writing seriously, I aimed for stories that would elevate truth, reveal injustice, and explore what it means to be human, messy, and looking for redemption.
The morgue gave me The Science. The writing gave me The Soul. With each new story, new script, new novel, I explore how to blend the two, and that’s where the magic happens.
From Mortified to Motivated
I didn’t start my career in forensics or fiction. I bounced through journalism, teaching, and marketing before I realized that what I really wanted was to pour myself into stories that mattered, stories that pulled people to the edge of their seats and then made them think.
Naturally, all those bizarre memories from childhood started surfacing. Crime scenes. Grieving families. That one time my dad brought a set of blackened, diseased lungs home in a jar. (True story.) He wanted to show us the effects of cigarette smoking. It worked. I don’t smoke.
Suddenly, I realized I had a library of stories in my head, and a unique lens on the world of death investigation. I started writing scripts and novels that leaned into that world. I had a built-in foundation of forensic knowledge, and I knew how to make it human. Emotional. Real.
Learning the Lingo
Of course, I didn’t want to just write what I remembered. I wanted to get it right. So I enrolled in the Forensic Science Academy in Los Angeles, a deep dive into the field from the professionals who live and breathe it every day.
My classmates were crime scene investigators, coroners, detectives. They became friends, mentors, and the sounding boards for all my crime-story curiosities.
And when my screenwriter friends said, “Wait, you’re learning all this cool stuff and we can’t?” I thought… why not share it?
That’s how my book Forensic Speak was born. It’s a forensic bootcamp for storytellers, writers, filmmakers, and crime nerds who want their scenes to feel authentic. (It’s also now used by law enforcement and universities, which is equal parts flattering and terrifying.)
Fact vs. Fiction (Hint: They're Not Twins)
I get asked all the time: “What do TV shows get wrong about forensics?”
Let’s start with the classics:
- Instant toxicology reports? Try again. It can take weeks, even months, to get results back.
- Lab results in minutes? Not happening. There’s a 6-8 week minimum backlog.
- A detective walks into a crime scene, glances around, and declares the cause of death on the spot? In real life, even the coroner would be like, “Don’t touch that body. That’s my jurisdiction.”
And those fingerprint matches that pop up like magic on glowing screens? Real-life analysts are often comparing samples for days, sometimes weeks, under a microscope before they can even say maybe. It’s slow, meticulous, and absolutely not glamorous.
Here’s the thing, fiction doesn’t have to be perfect. But it does need to feel plausible. Audiences will suspend disbelief… but only so far. Your job as a storyteller is to know the rules before you break them. That’s where the magic happens.
Why It Matters
There’s a reason so many people love crime fiction. Mysteries give us a sense of order. They ask big questions. They pull us into darkness, but then lead us to light.
Writing in this genre means sitting in that tension between truth and imagination. It means asking not just what happened, but why it happened. What it meant. Who it broke. Who it set free. Whose story never got told.
That’s the heart of every story I write.
Whether I’m working on an episode script, developing a new series, or diving into the next Coroner’s Daughter book, I’m always holding onto one thing: The Why. Because my stories may be filled with blood spatter, autopsy tables, and twisted motives, but at the core, they’re about disordered humanity. Justice. Belonging. Community. Order. Hope. And the quiet belief that even in the darkest moments, something good can still be found.
A Note to Fellow Storytellers
If you’re a writer drawn to the crime genre, don’t wait for someone to “approve” your take. You don’t need a PhD in forensics to write compelling, authentic crime fiction. What you do need is curiosity, compassion, and a commitment to getting the details right—so your readers can lose themselves in a world that feels true.
Ask the weird questions. Dig into real cases. Find people who do this work and listen to them. And don’t be afraid to blend your own life—your losses, your obsessions, your questions—into the story. That’s where the resonance comes from. That’s how you make a reader feel it.
We don’t write crime stories just to shock people. We write them to understand why things fall apart—and how we can put them back together.
What’s Next for the Coroner’s Daughter
What Darkness Does, Book 5 of The Coroner’s Daughter series arrives October 28, and the countdown is officially on.
This one is based on true crime. This one is dark. And this one may be the most challenging case Emily Hartford has ever faced because she might lose Nick in the process.
Without giving too much away: secrets are surfacing, the past is circling back, and Emily’s future with Nick is on the line.
If you’ve been following the series, get ready. And if you haven’t? Now’s the time to catch up.
Final Word
Some days, I still can’t believe I get to do this. To turn a childhood full of body bags and autopsy reports into books that entertain and, hopefully, heal.
And if you’re a writer with a weird past or an unconventional voice, hear this:
You don’t need to come from a literary background. You don’t need permission.
You just need a story that won’t let go.
And maybe, just maybe, a few crime scene photos on your kitchen table.
📚 Read more about Frozen Lives and The Coroner’s Daughter series
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