You're sitting with your coffee or tea. Maybe a beam of morning light presses against your face, like a hand against your cheek. Or maybe not. Maybe you're hunkered down in the passenger side of your crossover, driving to a friend's birthday party or picking your kid up from a sleepover.
Whatever you're doing, you also made your way here. Possibly for a second time, or a third. Dare I say a fourth? Regardless, thank you for being here with me.
Three things today.
First, let's get it out of the way. Registration is open for our October 2026 class start. It's free to register. Nothing is charged until October. You get early access to our learning platform. We call it the House. Poke around. See what's in store. Chat in the Parlour, our online community. Try an interactive Opening Moves exercise. Get a look at the 1:1 author and editing options that'll open up later. Plenty to do before all the rooms open.
Okay, now that we have that done...
Second, we're having fun with the curriculum. I was talking with Korina Moss, our Agatha Award-winning author in residence, about the importance of plotting. Here's what surprised me. When we think about plotting, we think about suspects and clues. How did the culprit do it? How will our sleuth put the pieces together? All of that matters. But so does genre.
When you pick your genre — cozy, traditional, procedural, and so on — you're entering a contract with your reader. They expect a certain tone. Certain beats. Characters who behave a certain way.
So we're building clear guidance for finding this early. It’s the first room you explore in our curriculum. What is your genre? Who are you writing for? Why? We help you pick your lane, then either hold it or veer on purpose in revision. We're calling it your Compass. Because it guides the writing from start to finish. You don't want to open a cozy and then, halfway through, let loose with profanity and extravagant violence. That's no man's land. A book that satisfies no one.
So build your Compass first. Then, when you reach the Map Room and start plotting, your Compass points the way. When you reach the Study and start drafting, your Compass can... well. You get it. Moving on...
Third, a passage. Because why not. We're here to write, after all. Here's a little something from the novel I'm working on. It's narrated by Aiden — a blue-collar worker who reads people the way some of us read a room. This is how he introduces us to Enid, the secretary where he works.
Enid sat hunched behind a busted old bargain desk in the corner of the office. She was pushing old — going into her seventies — but that tough old broad (her words, not mine) sure as hell wasn't busted. I always found her to be a hoot. More spunk than any woman half her age. Her hair was the fire red you can only get from a box. She was draped in flowing thrift store clothes with patterns and pastel colors that clashed like wild children fighting for your attention. And she had enough jewelry to sink her to the bottom of the ocean. Golds. Silvers. Colorful plastic. Didn't matter, it was all fair game to Enid. On anyone else, none of this would fly, but Enid owned it.
I'd love your feedback. Hit reply. I read everything. Don't hold back.
That's it. Oh. Did I mention registration is open, early access and previews included, nothing charged until October? I did? Worth repeating. Briefly.
Hope to see you in the Foyer.
Until then...
— Patrick
Stone Lyon Society