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In the beginning…

by JHowatt | Mar 28, 2020 | 2 Comments

I’ve asked myself a thousand times how a simple newspaper article of fewer than one-hundred words had started my heart racing, fired my imagination, and steeled my determination locked and loaded. But why him and why me? What was there about that story about a...

Rocks and Sand

by JHowatt | Mar 28, 2020 | 4 Comments

August 31, 1984. I wrote about this trip to the Miller/Campbell crime scene in the first chapter of my book. But now that I have a blog, I decided to include a few photos so readers could get the look and feel of what it was like for me to be there. John let me go...

The Peanut Wars

by JHowatt | Mar 28, 2020 | 5 Comments

About halfway through my collaboration, lunchtime had become an uneasy truce. Most of my adult life, I never paid much attention to eating lunch at a certain time. If I was playing tennis or out with friends or working around the house, lunch happened when it...

Two Intruders, Four Victims, and A Brilliant Storyteller

by JHowatt | Jan 13, 2021 | 0 Comments

I remember the chilly night in San Francisco, with the Bay Bridge off in the distance, when Truman Capote’s classic, In Cold Blood, lured me from a tiresome television program and into my reading chair wrapped in a blanket. I expected a fast-paced, true-crime thriller...

What are you doing here?

by JHowatt | Dec 16, 2020 | 2 Comments

Summer, 1958. I was a thirteen-year-old geek with thick glasses, frizzy hair, a scruffy dog named Laddie, and two girlfriends who lived up the street. Our family lived in Wilmette, a suburb of Chicago. My father was a corporate attorney; my mother was a housewife and...

The Clutter House: Murder in the Heartland

by JHowatt | Dec 7, 2020 | 5 Comments

I can almost remember the scene – clear as Autumn in the Sierras, when in 1967 I purchased a book I'd been anxious to read in an airport bookstore, Truman Capote's, In Cold Blood. I was in the spacious Pacific Heights living room I shared with five fellow...

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Jane Howatt - Author

3 days ago

T͢w͢o͢ ͢I͢n͢t͢r͢u͢d͢e͢r͢s͢,͢ ͢F͢o͢u͢r͢ ͢V͢i͢c͢t͢i͢m͢s͢,͢ ͢a͢n͢d͢ ͢A͢ ͢B͢r͢i͢l͢l͢i͢a͢n͢t͢ ͢S͢t͢o͢r͢y͢t͢e͢l͢l͢e͢r͢"It seemed every creak of the nearby elm tree, a gust of wind, and even the clunk and clang of the neighbor taking his trash to the sidewalk unnerved me. Sure, I was home alone with doors locked and the front porch light on, but I began to believe it was possible that a psychopath with a shotgun and big knife could creep up behind me without my knowing. The only mistake I made that night was picking up the best true-crime book of the century instead of a romance novel."To read more click the article below ⬇⬇⬇ ... See MoreSee Less

Two Intruders, Four Victims, and A Brilliant Storyteller

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Jane Howatt - Author

4 weeks ago

Three Friends start the Adventure of the Month ClubMy two best friends lived just a few houses away in a new development of homes in Camarillo, California. Aileen and her physician husband lived in a house with the look and feel of an English country home. Diana and her husband were still moving into the house they built that had a large fence to contain their Australian Kelpie. Jim and I had recently purchased a Mediterranean-style house with a row of Acacia trees leading to the front door.One evening, after listening to our husbands engaged in a spirited conversation, we talked about how complicated and crazy our lives had become. Aileen worked non-stop on legal cases. Diana felt exhausted after their transition from apartment to house. I was stuck in a never-ending cycle of submissions, edits, and rewrites. We all wanted a break from mayhem - a pathway to adventure of some sort. We opened a bottle of wine and began imagining. Traveling was out. Trips to LA didn’t cut it. Maybe a class? But what in? Painting? Improv? How to play the drums? Photography? Study the origin of barns in America? We agreed the theme should be adventure, but where would we find it? I had an idea.Why not start a club? We’d call it the Adventure of the Month Club. Each month we’d dream up an adventure, plan it, play it out then plan another one. It beat getting on an airplane and going to Iceland, or getting mixed up in some silly, hairbrained scheme. We decided for our first adventure, we’d visit the Reagan Library. Aileen and Diana would dress in red (his favorite color) and I’d wear white. We’d tour the library then drive to a nearby restaurant that featured a Western theme, BBQ menu and a hitching post outside since Reagan loved horses. We planned to bring excerpts from Reagan’s speeches, and read them on the way to the library thinking his words would set the stage. I read one of Reagan’s most memorable speeches: “It’s morning in America. Today more men and women will go to work than ever before in our country’s history.” The words felt sunny and safe. Aileen read excerpts from his speech with Mikhail Gorbachev by his side: “Mr. Gorbachev, Tear down this wall!” The words felt like they came from a leader who could make another leader tear down a wall. Diana remembered his speech when the Space Shuttle Challenger blew apart on January 28, 1986: “The future does not belong to the faint hearted; it belongs to the brave. We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning as they prepared for their journey, waved good-bye and slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.” Speech writing at it's best. The Oval Office set up, complete with matching sofas in winter white, matching pillows the color of apricots, a vase of roses, photos of Nancy and “Ronnie” riding horseback at Camp David and photos of Reagan with Margaret Thatcher painted a picture of a man comfortable with himself, his place in history and most of all – how happy and content he was to be with the woman he loved. We decided creating our own adventures would be better than any airplane trip. ... See MoreSee Less

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Jane Howatt - Author

4 weeks ago

W͢h͢a͢t͢ ͢a͢r͢e͢ ͢y͢o͢u͢ ͢d͢o͢i͢n͢g͢ ͢h͢e͢r͢e͢?͢"It was a hot summer evening. I’d tucked all the kids in bed and was headed to the living room, wondering what book to read – except there was a man – unshaven, holding a cane sitting in a chair by the fireplace. My heart pounded, and my feet froze to the floor. When our eyes met, neither of us moved. Was this man’s intent to hurt me? Hurt the kids? Kill all of us?"To read more click the article below ⬇️⬇️⬇️ ... See MoreSee Less

What are you doing here?

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Jane Howatt - Author

1 month ago

T͟h͟e͟ ͟C͟l͟u͟t͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟H͟o͟u͟s͟e͟:͟ ͟M͟u͟r͟d͟e͟r͟ ͟i͟n͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟H͟e͟a͟r͟t͟l͟a͟n͟d͟"Murder transforms the most ordinary item or location from normal to scary: a shrouded driveway, a wingback chair, a report card, a breakfast nook, a rock formation in the Mojave Desert, a farmhouse once the scene of an infamous murder, a dream that parallels a crime scene.When it comes to murder – ordinary can become lethal. A chair becomes kryptonite. A report card becomes all that’s left of a loved one. A family residence transforms into a haunted house."To read the whole blog click the link below 👇 ... See MoreSee Less

The Clutter House: Murder in the Heartland

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Blog

In the beginning…

Rocks and Sand

The Peanut Wars

Two Intruders, Four Victims, and A Brilliant Storyteller

What are you doing here?

The Clutter House: Murder in the Heartland

Facebook Posts

Get in Touch with Jane

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