All posts by jodicompton

Shadowy black & white image of the lower half of a woman's face

Let’s get this out of the way: You’re Californian and now live in Oregon. Sarah is Minnesotan and lives there. How’d that happen? I imagine this is the most frequent question you get about Sarah.

The short answer is, I spent three years in Minneapolis, going to grad school in journalism. Then I got a newsroom job in California, and I hadn’t been back all that long when the character of Sarah Pribek started to take shape in my mind. It was really clear to me that she lived and worked in the Twin Cities.

However, the subtext to that question is usually, “Why not write about California, since that’s where you live.” My answer is that I need a firewall between my real and fictional worlds.  I need the setting of a book to be not quite real, like a movie set on which the story plays out.

Also, Sarah is a transplanted Westerner; she’s from New Mexico. I knew better than to try to give Sarah the voice and memories of someone who grew up in Albert Lea, eating walleye-on-a-stick at the county fair. Some of her memories of being a newcomer to Minnesota reflect mine. In Sympathy Between Humans, she remembers finding it strange to be in a place where ‘it had to get warm enough to snow.’ That’s a very weird idea to someone from a more southern climate.

By the way, that’s not the most frequent question about Sarah.

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Note: This q-and-a contains mild spoilers for ‘Hailey’s War.’

Hailey Cain is 23 as Hailey’s War opens. Why such a young protagonist?

That has its roots in how the success of 37th Hour changed my life. When I first had the idea for the Sarah Pribek novels, I was 29 and working full-time in a newsroom, a disciplined, deadline-oriented environment. Most of the people I worked with were in their 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. I created a world for Sarah that was similar. She worked in law enforcement, a hierarchal world with clear rules (even if she broke them sometimes).

Then I sold 37th Hour and made enough money to quit my newsroom job. I bought my first home, a condo in a complex full of college students, just up the hill from San Luis Obispo’s downtown core, where those students drank and partied. I didn’t party, but with no job, I could live more or less like a student, staying up late and sleeping until noon. Then I’d write, or not (there was a lot of ‘not,’ in those days). Late in the afternoon, I’d go out to the MMA gym by the university and train.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’d crash-landed on the Planet of the Young. I overheard their drunken revels and arguments and fights. Their Kanye West and Gnarls Barkley drifted from car windows. They were my training partners at the gym. I didn’t realize how much this was affecting me until I sat down at 36 and wrote a book in which no major character is over 25.

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Nick Carraway, P.I.

Is The Great Gatsby the forerunner of the modern crime novel?

In my younger years, my father gave me some advice  — wait, that wasn’t me.

Let’s try again: In my younger years, I read The Great Gatsby twice. Once in high school, again in college, sprinting through its nine economically-written chapters so I could write the obligatory paper on “Car Culture and the American Dream in Gatsby.” I didn’t slow down to pay attention to the details, because I wanted to get back to what I really loved in those days — reading hardboiled crime novels. Which is funny, because had I paid attention, I would have seen that Gatsby is, in all but structure, a hardboiled novel. The literary techniques that turn up again and again in noir – a detached narrator, a temporary love interest, and great big pile of plot coincidences – can all clearly be seen in ‘Gatsby.’

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The Field of Flowers

This is a short story which I never succeeded in placing, written approximately a year before I wrote The 37th Hour. At the time, I thought I might write crime fiction with a subtle supernatural aspect, or crime/horror crossover novels. That’s reflected in the themes you’ll find here.

red and yellow poppies

His skin was the color of eggshells.  Of paper.  He’d been exsanguinated.


The call came in around 6:45 a.m.  A runner found the body.  Joggers find so many things for us in law enforcement.  Them and hikers. 

The body of a young white male, the report said, seen in the blackberry bushes that overran a slope leading down to a creek.  The first patrol officer on the scene didn’t disturb anything, just took one good look and called for a detective and a crime-scene unit.  We later realized that his assiduousness nearly cost the victim his life.

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