Dick Wybrow's guest appearances

Dick Wybrow

Unbroken

Wrong Place, Write Crime

Lawrence Kelter

Catriona McPherson

Terry Shames

Alexandra Amor

John Floyd

Robert McCaw

Joseph Reid

P.L. Katz

Mike Martin

Colin Campbell

Ian Fleming

Matt Phillips

Walter Mosley

Jess Walter

Sarah Gailey

OwlTail

In which Dick talks about the newest installment of his  paranormal mystery series starring Painter Mann, PAST LIFE.

Episode #114: Open & Shut w/ Dick Wybrow

Solving crime is never easy...even when you're a ghost.I found the premise for Dick Wybrow's Painter Mann series to be utterly unique and intriguing. Painter is recently deceased and stuck in the InBetween, helping those with unexplained deaths solve the riddle of how they were murdered so they can move on to other realms.In this podcast episode, Dick reads to us from the first book in the series, The InBetween, and in the interview we discuss building the world he's created for his sleuth, letting the characters tell him what's next, and how Dick himself doesn't necessarily believe in ghosts.This week's mystery authorDick Wybrow is a Canadian author. His novels are mainly set in the United States, where he grew up. A former stand-up comedian, Wybrow is a humor writer who crafts thrillers that incorporate elements of suspense, horror, mystery, science fiction and fantasy.His stuff has been heard on the radio by millions, seen on the TV in 213 countries.To learn more about Dick and his books visit DickWybrow.wixsite.comPress play (above) to listen to the show, or read the transcript below. Remember you can also subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts. And listen on Stitcher, Android, Google Podcasts, TuneIn, and Spotify.Excerpt from The InBetween[Language warning: There are a few naughty words in the excerpt Dick reads.]The living don’t realize how easy they’ve got it.These days, you can’t get lost anymore, what with GPS telling you where to go. And even if that didn’t work, your map software is likely on your phone. You can just call someone and tell them you got your dumb ass lost.Hell, you might even come up on that person’s phone as My Dumb Ass Friend Who Calls Me When He’s Lost (mobile).The dead don’t have the luxury.It’s not like you’ve got a compass to tell you you’re going north. You can see on the big rest stop map that you’ve got to take County Road 34 to 63, which’ll take you to Interstate 70, then onto 35, but you’d be surprised how fast all them numbers jumble up in your head because you can’t carry a notebook and a pen to write shit down.Now, there is a bit of a fallback you can half rely on if you get lost: if you just keep going, eventually, you’ll find yourself back home. We are the energy beings of the ether, so we are drawn back to the familiar.It’s almost like a faint scent that you can’t name. Something vaguely familiar; you just can’t put your finger on it.After reassuring Bernard the mailman I would loop back to Madison and help him out, it took me less than a half hour to hit Chicago. Now, that city is goddamn chock full of spooks, but thankfully most had been around long enough to know to keep out of each other’s way. If there was any spook Blind Spot in Chicago, I’d never stumbled into it.I never thought Minneapolis would be more dangerous than Chicago. Never sounded terribly dangerous. The city’s name always sounded a bit like what you might name a lapdog that pisses itself when the doorbell rings.I skated 90 heading into Chicago, and my eyes fell closed. My arms spread wide as I flew past car after truck after motorcycle. I cracked my eyes open just slightly and caught sight of the big city’s lights. I’m a bit of a romantic, sure, but I’m not quite sure why a light-dappled city skyline does it for me.Using the sounds of the vehicles around me as a guide, I let my eyes fall closed again and cast my arms even wider as I picked up speed, trusting that faint pull home would guide me where I needed to go.Soon, I would bank north and head up the Great Lake, where I could go almost as fast as I wanted, then make the turn west and be back home in no time.Taking a deep breath—or really, more like what I remembered a deep breath felt like—I was almost in a Zen-like trance, pleasantly in tune with the ghost world that blanketed the real one.I should have known better.

Solving crime is never easy...even when you're a ghost. I found the premise for Dick Wybrow's Painter Mann series to be utterly unique and intriguing. Painter is recently deceased and stuck in the InBetween, helping those with unexplained deaths solve the riddle of how they were murdered so they can move on to other realms. In this podcast episode, Dick reads to us from the first book in the series, The InBetween, and in the interview we discuss building the world he's created for his sleuth, letting the characters tell him what's next, and how Dick himself doesn't necessarily believe in ghosts. This week's mystery author Dick Wybrow is a Canadian author. His novels are mainly set in the United States, where he grew up. A former stand-up comedian, Wybrow is a humor writer who crafts thrillers that incorporate elements of suspense, horror, mystery, science fiction and fantasy. His stuff has been heard on the radio by millions, seen on the TV in 213 countries. To learn more about Dick and his books visit <a href="http://DickWybrow.wixsite.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">DickWybrow.wixsite.com</a> Press play (above) to listen to the show, or read the transcript below. Remember you can also subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts. And listen on Stitcher, Android, Google Podcasts, TuneIn, and Spotify. Excerpt from The InBetween [Language warning: There are a few naughty words in the excerpt Dick reads.] The living don’t realize how easy they’ve got it. These days, you can’t get lost anymore, what with GPS telling you where to go. And even if that didn’t work, your map software is likely on your phone. You can just call someone and tell them you got your dumb ass lost. Hell, you might even come up on that person’s phone as My Dumb Ass Friend Who Calls Me When He’s Lost (mobile). The dead don’t have the luxury. It’s not like you’ve got a compass to tell you you’re going north. You can see on the big rest stop map that you’ve got to take County Road 34 to 63, which’ll take you to Interstate 70, then onto 35, but you’d be surprised how fast all them numbers jumble up in your head because you can’t carry a notebook and a pen to write shit down. Now, there is a bit of a fallback you can half rely on if you get lost: if you just keep going, eventually, you’ll find yourself back home. We are the energy beings of the ether, so we are drawn back to the familiar. It’s almost like a faint scent that you can’t name. Something vaguely familiar; you just can’t put your finger on it. After reassuring Bernard the mailman I would loop back to Madison and help him out, it took me less than a half hour to hit Chicago. Now, that city is goddamn chock full of spooks, but thankfully most had been around long enough to know to keep out of each other’s way. If there was any spook Blind Spot in Chicago, I’d never stumbled into it. I never thought Minneapolis would be more dangerous than Chicago. Never sounded terribly dangerous. The city’s name always sounded a bit like what you might name a lapdog that pisses itself when the doorbell rings. I skated 90 heading into Chicago, and my eyes fell closed. My arms spread wide as I flew past car after truck after motorcycle. I cracked my eyes open just slightly and caught sight of the big city’s lights. I’m a bit of a romantic, sure, but I’m not quite sure why a light-dappled city skyline does it for me. Using the sounds of the vehicles around me as a guide, I let my eyes fall closed again and cast my arms even wider as I picked up speed, trusting that faint pull home would guide me where I needed to go. Soon, I would bank north and head up the Great Lake, where I could go almost as fast as I wanted, then make the turn west and be back home in no time. Taking a deep breath—or really, more like what I remembered a deep breath felt like—I was almost in a Zen-like trance, pleasantly in tune with the ghost world that blanketed the real one. I should have known better.

Solving Murders in the Afterlife with Dick Wybrow