#FridayUpdate

The dust has just started to settle after this weeks shenanigans. Most of the problems I have encountered were last seen high tailing it out of here, much to my relief.

So I thought I would update CrossFire, now that it is available in Paperback!

Amazon Link: myBook.to/NewCrossFire

DDTY

 

DI David Snow has a serial killer to catch, a killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits.

Snow is due to retire, but not before he discovers why someone killed his sergeant and is now coming after him.

The killer seems to have a personal vendetta against Snow, but he is determined that no one else should die because of him. His efforts are hampered by the arrival of a new sergeant, ‘ruthless’ Ruth Winton, for she is not what she seems. Alarm bells start to ring when Snow realises she is after more than just his job.

DI David Snow has a serial killer to catch, a killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits.

Snow is due to retire, but not before he discovers why someone killed his sergeant and is now coming after him.

The killer seems to have a personal vendetta against Snow, but he is determined that no one else should die because of him. His efforts are hampered by the arrival of a new sergeant, ‘ruthless’ Ruth Winton, for she is not what she seems. Alarm bells start to ring when Snow realises she is after more than just his job.


CrossFire

Synopsis

Setting:

CrossFire is the third book in a murder mystery series; set in present day England and involving Detective Inspector Snow as he approaches retirement. His plans are put on hold when his loyal sergeant Jim Harris, is brutally murdered.

Main characters

David Snow and Lily Winton, the middle-aged replacement for Jim Harris, take centre stage as they each try to outwit the other in solving this sensitive case.

Background

Snow’s wife died years ago, and he has not managed to share his life with anyone since. Several women have tried, but the helpless victim of a recent case has crept under his skin, rendering him in effect, a vulnerable man. A good detective, he suspects the new replacement is being secretly groomed to take his job, something he doesn’t appreciate.

Critical situation

The conflict between the two main characters escalates into a war, as neither of them will back down.

Tone

The tone of CrossFire is the age-old battle between an aging legend, desperately hanging on to his reputation, and the sharp enthusiasm of the newcomer.

Special ingredient

Lily Winton is the antagonist, producing a shock element, which catches Snow unawares. He thought he knew Jim Harris, but nothing could be further than the truth. His sergeant had been involved with some terrible people, but will trying to catch whoever killed him, turn out to be a swan song for Snow?

 

 

 

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Losing the plot…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

I sat and stared, listening to my mouth continuing about its business. With a curious, detached prescience, I was acutely aware that my words were about to run out. I his name. Needed to end my speech with it. I knew that I knew it. But could I recall it?

I was exhausted, I ached, I’d driven for hours on little sleep… all good reasons. Even so, the blank spot was curious. A ‘senior moment’?

It would have been bad enough were I speaking to a new acquaintance; I am notoriously bad with names in person, though I never forget faces. I pass people in the street, folk I met years ago, and remember them. I can remember the circumstances… even if I only met them briefly in the line of business, but names escape me.

Oddly, though, the people I meet mostly online, I remember by name. It is…

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From the Silence

Sun in Gemini

Bakelite Phone modifiedAA

The old woman gazed at the photo of her grandsons, standing in its silver frame on the scratched coffee table by the window. She remembered the day the toy sports car – minus one rubber wheel – had gouged its French-polished top.

Despite the damage, she had kept it as it was. Her grandson was horrified that it was still there to remind him.

It still brought a smile that a maturing young man could feel that twinge of guilt so long after the event… as she did, the old woman mused, so long after the other one; the one for which no-one was prepared.

Now, in his turn, the desk-scratcher was to be married. There was something about the coming ceremony that promised to heal the memory of the other, the old dark day.

Her brightly coloured dress was lit by a flash of spring sunlight breaking through the…

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Friday Book Cover: A few tricks

Story Empire

Hi gang, Craig here once more. Toward the end of last year we adopted a group of alternating topics for Story Empire, and when the debate was going on, I was probably late for class. My first friday assignment is to bring you something about cover art. I’m making this up as I go, but my idea is sound … if I can pull it off.

I’m going to pick on fellow Story Empire author, P. H. Solomon. This isn’t a blatant attempt to promote his work, but rather because he did everything so well here. Even so, I have to acknowledge his Bow of Hart Saga is outstanding, if you’re inclined to dig deeper.

One of the things to remember about visual arts is that the rules are more like guidelines. Sounds a lot like writing doesn’t it? Once upon a time, back when I could still buy Kodachrome…

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#Throwback Thursday. Second Tries, or How to make the right decisions the first time?

 

imagesxxxddd

My brain must be like Emmental cheese these days, soft, spongy and full of holes. I am getting really fed up with trying to think and decide what to do, or even knowing if the final decision is the right one. As they say, if I had half a brain, I would be dangerous!
I can’t decide (or remember) if I have always been like this, or if this state of affairs is yet another symptom of my advancing years.

Time is becoming problematic, far too much of it is spent second-guessing. Wouldn’t life be more efficient if all deliberation could be removed? Easier to pick a winkle out of its shell with a pin, I hear you say. But I am heartily sick of wondering which item to buy, which programme to watch, whether to cut my hair, the list is endless.

Added to my inability to choose anything, is the sure and certain knowledge that whichever one I pick, it will be the wrong one. Always is. I never get anything right on the first try.

Could life be more like plotting a book?

Now, I know that many writers don’t believe in plotting. They believe their characters will do most of the hard work for them, and I have experienced this first hand too. But other writers firmly believe in careful plotting, even using a story board.
All my life, I have been a ‘winger’, hurtling from one idea to the next. Sometimes getting it right, but more often not. Advancing age has changed all that. I no longer have the time for hit and miss. Decisions I make now, have to be right, although how this will happen, remains to be seen.

Now, I am still virtually new to this writing business, and with the idea of getting it right first time (could be a novelty in itself!) I tried plotting. With a lot of practice, I’m getting better. So much so, that the sequel to my fourth book has been thoroughly plotted, storyboard and everything. But this is not something you could really do with your life. Too many decisions, and so many ways of dealing with them.
In addition, other people tend to make your life awkward, sometimes it seems, just to be bloody minded.

Could it be as simple as throwing a dice?

Then I remembered something. (It does still happen sometimes!) I once read about a man who always made every decision with the turn of a dice, and apparently, his life was glorious. Maybe it was worth a try, as my way was getting me nowhere.
On second thoughts though, that sounds worse than ‘winging it’.
But if I were younger…

They say there are ‘two sides to every story’ and ‘everything happens for a reason’, but what if neither of these things is true? What if it is as simple as right or wrong?
Could it be that when life gets too difficult, we are simply trying to force wrong into being right?

Should we blindly follow our instincts?instincts,

Recently, I have been thinking back through my life and all the different choices that I had to make. To that small, persistent voice that nags you, insisting you do this or that. How many times had I ignored it, thinking my own choice was better, usually for all manner of reasons? Would my life have been better if I had obeyed that still, small voice? If I had not always chosen the path of least resistance, the path that always looked inevitable. Maybe the choice that looked the hardest, the most impossible, would have turned out better than what actually happened?

Maybe then, I wouldn’t have so many things to be sorry for, so many people I should apologise to.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation and I get another chance to live a better life, I hope I remember some of the things I have done wrong, all of the people I have hurt, and do it better next time…

God Bless and see you all next week…

Fruit for Thought

Stevie Turner, Indie Author.

It’s been about 9 months since my 30 sessions of neck radiotherapy finished, and I’ve been lucky enough to have had 2 clear scans since then.  However, I’ve heard it said that radiation damages DNA, and something weird has happened that I can only put down to the radiotherapy.

Before treatment I used to love eating bananas, pineapple and grapes.  Since a child I had found that oranges would make me feel sick or even upchuck.  Dot would eat an orange every day and tried without success to get me to do the same (sometimes the kid just ‘knows’), and as a teenager and adult had really wanted nothing more to do with them!  Indeed, on one of my food allergy tests it was noted of my intolerance not only to cow’s milk, but also to oranges.  I couldn’t even drink fresh orange juice, as it would sit in my…

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The cat flap…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

The guy who’d been to fit the thing
Had really got it wrong…
It didn’t even look too good
Nor was it very strong.

He’d charged a fortune for it
After which we’d had to wrangle
With cats who didn’t want to use
A cat-door at an angle.

At first they were reluctant
But they came to terms at last,
Then fat cat after feral cat
Were always shoving past…

It was inevitable
That the cat flap would soon break
And that is why I cannot move
And why I sorely ache.

“I need to fit a new one,”
Said my son, “Can you bob in?
The cats are meowling to get out
And yowling to get in!”

(I wouldn’t mind, but all these cats
Did not live there before…
They turned up for the auto-feed
When he installed the door…)

He’d bought the self-same model
So it should have…

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