2015 was a busy year for me, which saw the publication of both Memories of a Ghost and my short story collection, Odds & Endings: Fiction Short and Otherwise. My goal for 2016 is to release at least one new novel, though which one it is remains to be seen.

In addition to the much-awaited third book in the Small Things trilogy (tentatively titled A Pattern of Shadows,) I’m also finishing up Leap Year (a time-travel urban fantasy) and beginning work on the as-of-yet-untitled sequel to Memories of a Ghost.

One thing I’ve done in all of my work is to create connections between them. Small Things, for example, briefly references one of the two main characters in Leap Year. The main character in Memories of a Ghost is the sister of a very minor character in Threads. There are too many connections to list between the stories in Odds & Endings and everything else, but all of them do take place in the same universe—even the sci-fi piece Beside Myself. One example: In my novella Merryland, Zara’s doctor is Vanessa Wages. In Small Things, set in 1975, Vanessa Wages appears as a nurse taking care of Shawn Spencer. Maya Wang, also a nurse, appears in that novel. Her sister Lisa appears in Threads, and both women are featured in the short story Smoke along with their brother Jacob, and in a Pattern of Shadows…oops, that one hasn’t been released yet, so I can’t really say. I will, however, tell you that you’ll be seeing a few very familiar faces from Memories of a Ghost!

Those are just a few of the cameos, clues, and connections (not to mention Easter eggs) awaiting you in my fiction. Can you find more? I’ll be waiting to hear from you!

 

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From Joe's writing

She caught the railing with one trembling hand, just barely hanging on. But her fingers were so cold, she could barely feel them. And then he was upon her, leaning over the railing, his hot, fetid breath turning to steam before her eyes, clouding her vision. She saw a hint of wiry black fur, and a snout where his nose should have been. A white hot pain shot through her arm as something sharp and dangerous raked deep across the back of her hand. She was falling again, her fingers having lost their grip on the cement balcony, and all she could see was a haze of blood as the ground rushed up to meet her.

— Threads, Chapter 19