Book Banter
Susie Black’s Newsletter
Edition 6, August 2026
Hello! I’m Susie Black. I write humorous cozy mysteries. Thanks for taking a peek at my monthly newsletter. I discuss my writing, books, and anything else that piques my interest.
In this edition:
What I’m Thinking About
What I’m Reading
What I’m Writing
What I’m Thinking About:
A Mind Quirk Explained: Do You Talk to Yourself? And if yes, do you answer? I do…
Only 30% of People Have This Rare Mind Quirk —And It’s A Sign You’re Exceptionally Bright.
The mind works in mysterious ways, and not all of them are created equal. People process information in their own unique manner based on their mental state and the experiences people have throughout their lives. There was a time when talking to yourself or hearing voices in your head might have been considered a mental health issue. We now know that this is a healthy, positive inner monologue.
Your inner monologue is private speech within your mind that narrates your life. What you think, feel, and your actions are verbalized in your head, using a voice only you can hear. TikToker Bella Avila explains in a video how to tell if you have an inner monologue by reading a sentence in your head. “Some people have an inner speech that narrates everything they do, see, think, and feel,” Avila says.
The inner monologue is partially controlled by corollary discharge, a signal the brain gives off. This differentiates between varying sensory experiences, internal and external. The inner monologue allows you to focus on your own voice, muting external stimulation. It is used to organize your thoughts in situations where you are unable to speak audibly.
Your inner monologue is developed during adolescence. It is an internal dialogue that you use to work independently and take specific actions. In childhood, this might have shown up as an imaginary friend.
As an adult, your inner speech helps with your working memory and cognition. Both are associated with problem-solving and processing critical thoughts. An inner monologue is important for sensory awareness and positive self-talk. Knowing how to inspire and uplift yourself from within can make all the difference when striving for success in life.
How do you know if you have an inner monologue?
To find out if you have an internal monologue, TikToker Nick Diller asks his viewers to think of an apple and select the image that fits what they envision. He presents five images, ranging from a 3D, crystal clear version of an apple to nothing at all. This test reveals how your mind reflects what you see and hear.
Aside from the test above, you have an inner monologue if you can have an internal conversation with yourself, hear your voice when reading a book, or even frequently get songs stuck in your head! Does everyone have an inner monologue?
You might be surprised to learn that not everyone has an inner monologue. As a matter of fact, University of Nevada professor and renowned psychologist Russell Hurlburt believes that just 30-50% of the population does.
Though there are studies on the topic, researchers are still trying to understand exactly why most of us do not have an inner monologue. The belief is that your internal voice is influenced by your dorsal stream (language tracts in your brain) development. This may never have fully matured in people with no inner monologue.
What does it mean if you don’t have an inner monologue?
Just because you cannot “hear” your inner voice does not mean that you don’t have an inner monologue that you can use to process thoughts and actions. Some people use visualization instead of auditory cues as their inner monologue. Rather than hearing themselves think about steps to take, they might see a list with the steps listed.
Those who are hearing impaired can experience an inner monologue in other ways. Signs and images help them to process and organize information. Still, some people have difficulty calling up images in their heads. This impairment is known as aphasia. A 2021 study showed that those same people may also have anaduralia, a condition in which one lacks auditory imagery and the inner voice is silent.
But inner speech is only one of the five ways that people think. They also utilize inner seeing (imagination), unsymbolized thinking (going through the motions), feeling (conscious consideration), or sensory awareness (focusing on one aspect of the environment at a time).
Whether having an inner monologue is a good thing depends on how it is used. On one hand, it can serve as a reminder of how to act and move forward to achieve your goals. That inner voice can also motivate you, talk you out of negative feelings and emotions, and help you to work through problems when you don’t have external resources to turn to.
Planning, solving issues, self-reflection and regulation, emotion management, perception, instruction, and reinforcement are benefits of having an inner monologue.
But there is a downside to it. Your inner voice is impacted by energy- both positive and negative. If you are internalizing bad things and providing yourself with negative self-talk, it can be detrimental to your mental health. Self-criticism is linked to low self-esteem, leading to even more negative self-statements. So, if you know that you have that inner voice, make sure it is pushing you in the right direction.
CREDIT: NyRee Ausler is a writer from Seattle, Washington, and the author of seven books. She covers lifestyle, entertainment, and news, and navigates the workplace and social issues. This article originally appeared on Your Tango.
What I’m Reading: I just finished reading Topper Jones’ newest thriller, Pismo Beach Sniper, the third book in the Thad Hanlon/Bri de la Guerra Mystery Series.
Here’s a blurb to whet your appetite:
“When sniper fire erupts at the Central Coast Surf Trials at Pismo Beach, private investigator Thad Hanlon is thrust into every parent’s worst nightmare. His eleven-year-old son and two teammates are shot while surfing—one critically injured—plunging the contest into chaos and terrorizing the tight-knit Five Cities beach community.”
Here is my review:
Pismo Beach Sniper is the heart-wrenching story of every parent’s greatest fear…being incapable of meeting their most important responsibility: Keeping their children safe from harm.
Author Topper Jones has penned a heart-pounding tale that unflinchingly shines a light on how the choices PI Thad Hanlon and his partner Brie de la Guerra made years ago now threaten the life of the one person in the world who is more precious to Thad than life itself.
Part thriller, part mystery, part redemption, and part second chance for love, Pismo Beach Sniper, the third book in Topper Jones’ PI Thad Hanlon Surfing Detective Series, is a whiplash rollercoaster ride through a fast-paced, intricate plot. The cast of imperfect but believable characters drives the story that grabs readers by the throat from page one and never lets go.
Jones’ description of the ocean and its intimate relationship with the surfers is so vivid that it gives the story an extra dollop of authenticity and readers the sensation of paddling out on a longboard and riding the waves to shore. With more twists and turns than a slinky, Topper Jones has written a Jim Dandy of a story that is spiced with snappy, snarky dialogue, an irreverent but damaged protagonist, and a wise-beyond- his years preteen who steals the show. In this parable of good versus evil, Jones has woven an amusing yet gripping plot that bares open the underbelly of surf culture in a beach-themed mystery thriller, culminating with a blockbuster ending sure to take a reader’s breath away. https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Pismo+Beach+Sniper&i=stripbooks&crid=2ZTO1
What I’m Writing:
So, logic says that any author writing two series would barely have enough time to eat and sleep…and certainly not enough time to create a third series. Well, so much for logic! Yep, I pushed the envelope and drumroll…The Sunny Knight Mystery Series is crazy Susie’s newest creation. The Forecast is…Murder! is the debut title of the series and was released August 2nd. My new baby is available in both EPUB and paperback formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, KOBO, iBooks, Smashwords, and many other popular online retailers.
Here is a Blurb to whet your appetite:
The United Television Network exiles disgraced investigative reporter Sunny Knight to a remote California desert affiliate. Sunny is informed by the station owner that, since nothing happens in the middle of nowhere, the station does not need an investigative reporter, and she is now the weather reporter. After they have a vicious altercation, the station owner’s bridge partner is discovered dead, and Sunny’s boss is arrested for the murder. Despite the differences Sunny has with her boss, she is convinced that the station owner didn’t do it. The wise-cracking, irreverent amateur sleuth jumps into action to nail the real killer. But with a clown car full of viable suspects to investigate, will Sunny bring the right one to justice or become their next victim?
Here’s an excerpt to introduce investigative reporter Sunny Knight:
A stately woman in her mid-sixties opened the door and strode purposely into the office. Around three inches shorter than me, she carried her rail-thin frame regally—shoulders back, head held high, chin jutted out. A ramrod posture that screamed confidence, control, and power.
She donned an expensive-looking sand-colored gauze pantsuit embellished with an embroidered trim and beige macrame sandals with two-inch heels. She styled her salt-and-pepper hair in an upsweep. A jeweled gold comb held the hairdo in place. She sported a set of piercing, steely, wide-set gray eyes that could cut you down to size with a glare that was set above a patrician nose. Her only make-up was a stripe of blood-red lipstick slashed across thin, turned-down lips.
“Mister Durbin,” She glared at Jock and barked in a gravelly voice that sounded as if she gargled with razor blades. “Has the new weather girl managed to grace us with her presence yet?” She tapped the face of a diamond-encrusted watch. “Time is money. And I don’t cotton to anyone wasting either of mine. She must be brought up to speed immediately to take over the eleven O’clock spot tonight.” She drew her lips into a tight, thin line. “The giggly bimbo morning program co-anchor you’ve been using to pinch hit simply won’t do for another segment. The birdbrain is unable to read off of a teleprompter properly, let alone tell the difference between a barometer and a thermometer.”
A nasty sense of superiority coursed through my veins. Then a surprising stab of pity pierced my heart for the poor soul stuck in such a dead-end job.
Jock beamed a hundred-thousand-watt smile at the crabby woman and swept an arm towards me. “Mrs. McClintock,” he purred sweetly as a lover, “Allow me to introduce you to Nelly Dean Knight, our new weather reporter.”
Wait. What? Weather reporter? Who? Me?
She turned her head to follow Jock’s hand as his index finger pointed to me. Mrs. McClintock blinked as she noticed me for the first time.
She eyed me up and down as though examining a head of cattle at an auction. She glanced at Jock’s Hawaiian shirt and rolled her eyes. She clucked her tongue. “At least this one came to work dressed properly…”
She jabbed her right hand out like a fencing sword, clamped her slightly gnarled fingers tightly over mine, and gave my hand a solid shake. “Edwina McClintock. Head honcho of this establishment.”
She let go of my hand and swept hers across the room. “To save us both a lot of time and aggravation, here’s how it works around my shop. I run a tight ship. I don’t put up with crap from anyone…so, don’t even try wasting my time. Show up when you’re supposed to. Come to work prepared. Do your job right. Around here, it’s my way or the highway. Follow my rules and we’ll get along fine. If not, you and the little still left of your broadcasting career will be history faster than you can say Cactus City.” She narrowed her eyes. “We clear?”
Clear? As mud. Who the hell does she think she’s talking to?
Jock’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars as I snatched my resume off his desk and slapped it into her age-spotted hands.
She glanced at the cover page and shrugged. “So?”
I spoke through gritted teeth. “So, if you bothered to read my resume, you’d see I am an award-winning investigative reporter, not a weather girl, as you disrespectfully referred to me. I dunno who’s supposed to take that dead-end job, but it sure as hell isn’t me.”
Mrs. McClintock narrowed her eyes and studied me curiously, as if I were a newly discovered species.
If the old bat thought she’d intimidate me by her stare-down tactic, she had another thing coming. If you grow up in a house of five kids, you’d better stand up for yourself, or the other ones will walk all over you.
I tapped my toe impatiently.
Seconds before I was out the door and on my way back to New Jersey, she rolled my resume into a cylinder and smacked it across my arm. She grinned impishly. “You have spunk and guts, young lady. Good on you. I like it.”
She jabbed an index finger into her chest. “You remind me of myself back in the day.”
She tipped her head. “So, here’s the thing. I don’t need an investigative reporter. Truthfully, not enough goes on out here in the middle of nowhere to investigate.” The corners of her downturned lips quirked into a faraway smile. “Mr. McClintock won this station in a poker game twenty-five years ago, and he treated it like a hobby. After he passed, I kept it for sentimental reasons, but once I chose to do it, I ran the station as a business, not a toy.”
She pointed to Jock. “I made the deal with the network under the proviso I’d only be sent the cream of the crop who’d screwed up.” She waved my rolled resume like a baton. “The network sends me every candidate’s resume. Contrary to popular opinion, you weren’t forced down my throat. I could have rejected you, but instead I chose to select you. Why? Because you have a brain and a moral compass—a rarity in the broadcast biz.”
She pointed to a window. “Mr. McClintock and I made our money in the date business. If your fortune depends on the weather, you’d better pay close attention to it, and learn to anticipate Mother Nature’s wrath and respect it, or you’ll go broke in the blink of an eye.”
She shook the resume at me. “We can do each other some good. You need a way back into the industry, which I can provide, and I need someone who understands the importance of accuracy in reporting.”
I said, “If the weather reporter is such a critical job, shouldn’t it go to a trained meteorologist?”
She dipped her head. “A reasonable assumption…thirty years ago. Now, thanks to modern technology, a reporter pulls all the information right from the US Weather Service website.”
I grinned. “You don’t need to pay a reporter for the job. Nancy, the receptionist, is qualified. How hard is it to say here at Hell on Earth it’s going to be blast furnace hot today and a little less hot tonight?”
She steepled her fingers as though she were in prayer. “Lives and livelihoods depend on the weather in this little corner of the world. The key to the job is the way you explain the forecast to our viewers and its meaning to their lives.” She funneled her lips. “You can maximize the importance of any position by the way you approach it. Why not use your investigative skills to go into the field and report how our severe and often unpredictable weather impacts the residents and the economy? Don’t discount the job for a single minute. The weather reporter is critically important to the community we serve.”
The madame missed her métier. She should have gone into sales.
I arched a brow. “Okay, just for the sake of argument, say I agree there’s more to the job. Show me the compensation package.”
Jock handed her a manila folder. She opened it and pushed a sheet of paper over to me.
I scanned it and burst out laughing. I stood and held out my hand. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll make a lot more as a mortuary cosmetician.”
Mrs. McClintock wrinkled her nose. “Good grief. Talk about a grim career choice. That one wins the gold medal.”
I grinned. “Grim, yes, but since death is inevitable, you’re never out of work.”
“Before you go, just to be sure you understand how much you’re walking away from, let’s go over the offer sheet in detail.”
I rolled my eyes. “Go over it all you want, but the numbers don’t lie. You’re offering a salary of $26 000 a year gross before taxes. How you expect me to live on it is a mystery. I earned double the salary in Newark.”
She nodded. “I did my homework. For a single person to live modestly in Newark, the normal minimum annual income is $46,000. In the first place, the cost of living here is a lot lower than in Newark. But putting that aside, if you don’t focus on the salary and consider the benefits we include, then this offer is quite generous.”
Mrs. McClintock tapped the pencil eraser on the offer sheet. “We offer company-paid health and dental insurance and a non-taxable pension plan that we match dollar for dollar. We offer free housing to our broadcast staff. For a single woman, we provide a furnished two-bedroom, two-bath Spanish-style hacienda with utilities, including air conditioning, that you live in rent-free. Trust me, the power bill alone would eat up the lion’s share of your take-home salary. This is a turnkey, professionally decorated home. Just show up with your toothbrush. Our staff also enjoys a generous discount at the supermarket and pharmacy I own here in town.”
She pushed the offer sheet closer to me. “Remember, Ms. Knight, it’s not how much you earn, it’s how much you keep.” She grinned. “And let’s face it, I don’t care how much money they pay you; this is a helluva lot better gig compared to preparing corpses for funerals.” She had me there.
The Forecast is…Murder! Is available now in both electronic and paperback formats at all your favorite book retailers:
https://books2read.com/u/3GBDzQe
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Until next month, happy reading.
Congratulations on your new series! Welcome to the Triple Club. LOL Enjoy!
Great newsletter!