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?

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?