I’ve been told that the world is divided into cat people and dog people.
I’ve never fully believed it, as I grew up with both cats and dogs, and loved both. But Mike Brink, the hero of my latest novel The Puzzle Master is definitely a dog person. Brink has something called Acquired Savant Syndrome, a rare but real medical condition that occurred after he suffered from a traumatic brain injury at 17 years old. He was as normal as could be, and then, after the injury, he developed certain incredible skills, becoming a mathematical savant. Only about 50 people in the world have been diagnosed with this condition, but those who have it are left with singular gifts, ones that are often hard to manage. For Mike Brink, that talent is a brain that cracks patterns, puzzles and mysteries with ease, a skill that draws him into the central mystery of The Puzzle Master.
Enter Brink’s dog, a dachshund named Conundrum, Connie for short. She is his sidekick, a companion and an ESA (emotional support animal), who helps him deal with the condition that changed him from a regular guy to a man with a superpower. There are times when Mike Brink is tortured by his gifts. He sees patterns everywhere. He has synesthesia—he sees colors in relationship to numbers. He is incredibly gifted, but also alone. Except for his beloved dog Conundrum.
The Puzzle Master was published in June of this year, and I found not only Mike Brink loved his dog: one of the most beloved characters of the book was Connie. I love her too. She has a way of warming up Mike Brink, helping him come out of his shell, and allowing readers to see a more human side of a man whose talent is quite cerebral. As I wrote scenes with Connie, I found myself wishing I had a companion like her.
And then, on my birthday last month, my husband surprised me with the real Conundrum, a two-year-old rescue who is almost same size and color as the dog in my novel. It was a huge surprise to find myself with a character I’d created as a pet, a moment when life imitates art, or art inspires life. I hadn’t imagined, as I wrote the novel—which revolves around a mysterious cipher drawn by a woman in prison that Mike Brink sets out to solve, Connie by his side—that a year later a living breathing Conundrum would be in my life.
The fictional Conundrum is as sharp as her owner. She has a whole bunch of tricks and is fun to follow through the story. The real Conundrum is equally fun. Since she’s entered my life, I’ve spent hours playing with her. She has a favorite squeaky red ball and a stuffed bear with a Christmas hat that she’s already torn apart.
One feature of Conundrum in The Puzzle Master—and also in the forthcoming The Puzzle Box, a new novel featuring Mike Brink and Connie set in Japan—is that she disappears a lot. She is kidnapped, frightened away, hiding. All of this is unexpected, and right in the middle of the action of the story, and so it causes no small amount of anxiety for Brink.
Having the real Conundrum has given me pause as I plan to write more books about Mike Brink and Connie. As the owner of this cute, exuberant little creature, I would be horrified if she disappeared on me. Or worse, was hurt or killed. I’m getting a first-hand look at what my character feels. Does this help make for better storytelling? Will I be more empathetic to Mike Brink and his travails with his dog Connie now that I have her double? We shall see when I write the next book.
Danielle Trussoni is New York Times bestselling author of the novels The Ancestor, Angelology, and Angelopolis, all New York Times notable books, and the memoirs The Fortress and Falling Through the Earth, named one of the ten best books of the year by The New York Times Book Review. She wrote a monthly horror column for The New York Times Book Review. A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and winner of the Michener-Copernicus Society of America Fellowship, her work has been translated into more than thirty languages.
