An Open Letter to JD Kirk – For Dialogue That Knows When to laugh…and When Not To

I stayed for the dialogue.

I think my first DCI Logan read came through my Audible subscription—one of those “why not?” clicks—and let’s be honest, who doesn’t love a good Scottish detective? I’m pretty sure Angus King didn’t hurt matters either.

But it was the dialogue that kept me there, binging then auto-buying.

The sharp, laugh-out-loud, did-he-really-just-say-that kind of dialogue that makes the DCI Logan/Bob Hoon series impossible to read quietly in public. The kind that sneaks up on you—one perfectly timed line—and suddenly you’re grinning like an idiot, or wheezing and wiping tears away as you snaugh (snort + laugh) Coke Zero through your nose over a murder investigation.

It’s quick. It’s cutting. It’s human in a way that doesn’t feel written.

The kind of dialogue that can carry a full scene and still slip in something so completely unhinged and perfectly timed, you have to stop and reread it/rewind.

Like Logan, mid-chase, at the climax of A Litter of Bones (check out the full cast recording if you can), giving coordinates for a possible serial killer and casually signing off with something along the lines of,
“We’re the ones with the blue lights going… nee-noo nee-noo.”

It shouldn’t work.
It absolutely does.

And then there’s Hoon—who operates on an entirely different/unhinged moral and conversational plane:
“Did they clone him from one of your less-impressive bowel movements?” (That is mild Hoon! IYKYK)

Which is either the most offensive or most accurate insult I’ve ever read. Possibly both.

And I loved it.
I expected it.
I counted on it.

So, when I downloaded Recall (James McAvoy) and didn’t laugh?

I noticed.

Not because something was missing—but because something had shifted.

The humor wasn’t there to cushion the story. The dialogue didn’t reach for the release valve. It just… held.

And it worked just as well.

Maybe better.

Because what stood out—what really stood out—was that the strength had never been the humor. The strength was always the voice behind it. The rhythm. The restraint. The ability to let characters speak exactly as much as they should… and not a word more.

It’s not easy to write funny dialogue that lands.

It’s even harder to write dialogue that knows when not to.

That trusts the silence.
That lets tension sit in the space between lines.
That allows characters to carry weight without deflecting it.

That’s what Recall showed me.

The humor in Logan. The chaos in the Hoon books. The bite, the banter, the perfectly timed irreverence—it all works because it’s grounded in something deeper. Something controlled.

Something intentional.

You didn’t lose the humor.

You proved you didn’t need it.

And as a reader—and a writer—that’s the part I’m taking with me.

So thank you.

For the lines that made me laugh.
And for the ones that didn’t have to.

—KRB

For more unhinged Hoon quotes, check out this post on The Great British Book Club. Don’t try to drink and read!


Who are some authors/characters who make you literally LOL?

Tohrment: The Quiet Hero of the Black Dagger Brotherhood

An Open Letter to JR Ward

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

I started my reread of the Black Dagger Brotherhood series in anticipation of the Passionflix adaptation—and let’s be honest, the TikTok love fest didn’t hurt. Watching new readers discover this world has been one of the most joyful things I didn’t know I needed. There’s something special about seeing others fall for characters you’ve carried with you for years.

I was late to the series, probably 7-10 yrs behind the rest of the world. From the moment Tohrment stepped onto the page in Dark Lover, I was hooked. Not the loudest. Not the flashiest. But something about him stayed with me—steady, grieving, quietly dangerous in the way still water runs deep.

I speed-read the series just to get to his book. I couldn’t wait to see him finally take center stage.

And then…
Book Ten came. And he didn’t. Not the same way Wrath, Rhage, Zsadist, Butch, Vishous and Phury had done, and let’s not forget the THREE other books that he patiently waited through.

There was so much going on—other threads, other couples, other heartbreaks.
And Tohrment, the one I had chased across ten books, felt like a side story in his own book.

I was disappointed. Not because it wasn’t well written, but because it wasn’t what I’d pictured. Kind of like when the actor cast to play your favorite book boyfriend doesn’t quite live up to the version in your head… # irony I wanted fireworks. I wanted vengeance. I wanted the kind of love that explodes.

But this time around, and I’m only up to book six—older, maybe a little more weathered—I see it.
I see him.

It’s hard to write a main character who doesn’t demand the spotlight. To give us a man who won’t fight for his own happiness, who doesn’t believe he deserves it, who keeps showing up for everyone else instead.

The moment Tohr opens his arms to John Matthew(Lover Enshrined) when he could’ve pulled away, stayed closed off, protected his pain instead of his son? That was it. That’s when I got it! He doesn’t flinch. He just… receives it. Like he always has.

You gave us the slow rebuild of a man who had no reason to hope.

And you didn’t rush it. You didn’t tie it in a bow. You let it hurt, and stall, and stretch until healing showed up looking nothing like he expected.

That takes guts. That takes restraint. That takes the kind of storytelling that sticks.

I didn’t understand him the first time. But I do now.

Thank you for writing him the way you did. For making room on the page for quiet strength, for slow redemption, and for the kind of love that doesn’t chase the spotlight—but still shows up in full.

I have more letters to write. Phury’s story surprised me in ways I wasn’t ready for. The V and Butch Bromance and Why People Get It Wrong. And don’t even get me started on the fallen angels. But for now—to Tohr. And to the woman who gave him back to us.

Which Brother or side character surprised you the most? Do you feel differently as you revisit the series?

The Impact of Note-Writing: A Thank-You to Influential Authors

The first note I sent wasn’t meant to be the start of anything. But afterward, I couldn’t stop thinking about how many authors have given me something worth thanking them for. So I’m sharing this one—the note that launched the series—as the very first. To Maria Popova at The Marginalian

Dear Maria,

Sometimes the algorithms get it right. They led me to your piece Walt Whitman on What Makes Life Worth Living, and I’m so glad they did. While I wouldn’t call myself a student of Whitman, I’ve grown to appreciate his reverence for nature and the quiet healing found in simple pleasures—gardening, walking barefoot in the grass, pausing to notice the world.

Visiting your site felt less like scrolling and more like overhearing a conversation I didn’t know I needed—a gentle dialogue about meaning, beauty, and the grace of being alive. I haven’t wanted to sit and binge-read in ages, but I found myself lingering, drawn in by your reflections. I’ve subscribed to your newsletter, made a small donation, and will continue to support your work when I’m able.

Thank you for sharing your gift so generously. The world is better for it.

Warmly,
Kristine Brorman

Have you ever been moved to write to an author or artist?

Writing Thank-You Notes to Influential Writers

This series started this morning, July 3, 2025, with a note.

One of those crack-of-dawn, pre-coffee, heart-full moments where the right words from someone else settled something in me—and I just needed to say thank you. No clue what motivated me to send it. I definitely didn’t expect to keep going. But here I am, launching a new series: Here’s Who I’m Thanking This Week—open letters to the authors, artists, and storytellers whose work has stuck with me.

And truthfully?
It started even earlier.

During the long stretch of uncertainty that was 2020, I began a daily gratitude journal. It wasn’t fancy. Just a few minutes a day. But that habit got me through some rough mornings and heavy seasons. I kept it up for nearly two years—and though I’ve fallen out of the daily rhythm, the mindset never left.

So this series isn’t just about books.
It’s about what those books gave me.

It’s about laughter when I needed lightness.
A well-timed line that hit like truth.
A quiet, steady character who reminded me how strength really looks.

Each letter is different. Some are short and sharp. Others meander through memory. Some celebrate well-known authors, and others spotlight books I picked up on a whim and never quite got over. All of them are love letters—expressions of genuine gratitude for the stories that linger.

They’re not reviews.
They’re not critique.
They’re just… thank-yous. From one writer, one reader, to another.

If you’ve ever finished a book and thought I wish I could hug the person who wrote this, you might find something to love here.

Thanks for reading.
Thanks for being here.
And thanks to the authors who keep showing us what stories can do.

Who would you write a letter to?