The title came first. Before There Were Skeletons, a nod to Skeletons in the Attic, book 1 in my Marketville Mystery series. In book 1, Calamity (Callie) Barnstable, my protagonist, 36 at the time, inherits a house in Marketville from her father, who has died in an “unfortunate” occupational accident. The catch? She must move into the house, a house she didn’t know existed, and find out the truth about her mother, Abigail Osgoode Barnstable, who disappeared when Callie was six.

Callie ferrets out the truth, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t left with unanswered questions and unresolved issues. In book 2, Past & Present, Callie starts her own private investigation firm—Past & Present Investigations, specializing in cold cases—may as well put into practice what she learned, right? It’s either that or going back to a nine-to-five job, the latter holding no appeal. But while Callie finds herself adept at digging into other people’s lives and secrets, she’s not quite equal to the challenge of doing that in her own life, especially when it comes to those “mother” issues that still need resolving.

In book 3, A Fool’s Journey, Callie’s on the hunt for a young man who’s been missing for 20 years. She also manages to develop a relationship with her heretofore estranged great grandmother, Olivia Osgoode, but the skeletons of her past, and the scars left behind, remain.

My initial thought was that I’d write a prequel from Abigail’s point of view. You see, Abigail (Abby to her friends) had been in her final year at Lakeside High, with plans to go to university, a dream easily achieved, thanks to good marks and affluent parents. She got pregnant instead, dropped out of school, married the boy (James “Jimmy” Barnstable), and moved to Marketville. There’s a story there, right? At least I thought there was.

And so, I wrote first few chapters as Abby, alternating attempts between first person (which is how the Marketville mysteries are written, albeit from Callie’s POV) to third person. Here’s a third person version of the prologue.

September 1976

Abigail Osgoode hopped off the school bus in front of Ben’s Convenience, unrolled the waistband of her orange miniskirt until the hem reached mid-thigh, and started walking east on Winding Lake Drive. The bus driver would have dropped her off at the gated entry into Moore Gate Manor, but Abigail preferred to keep where she lived private. It was hard enough being the new kid on the Lakeside block, let alone being the new rich kid. Most of the students at Lakeside High came from what could best be described as limited means. Lakeside, despite the indication of growth to come, was primarily a summer resort town with a population that declined dramatically during the remainder of the year. Local jobs tended to be retail, restaurants, or seasonal—marinas and lawn mowing in the summer, snowmobiles, and ice hut rentals in the winter.

Now…I didn’t use any of that, or the 50+ additional pages I wrote in Abby’s voice, and while it just never felt right to me, it did serve to make me understand Abby. Where she came from, who she was, what she became, why she disappeared on Valentine’s Day 1980, leaving behind a six-year-old daughter and a husband who loved her.

Some of that backstory trickles into the final version of Before There Were Skeletons, told from her daughter Callie’s point of view, 45 years later. Some doesn’t.

Because life is like that, isn’t it? Full circle. Even when we tear away the extra pages we don’t want to remember, some of it sticks. Some of it doesn’t. And those we’ve left behind are none the wiser.

*This post previously appeared on the fabulous multi-author blog, Writers Who Kill. Do yourself a favor and check them out.