Hello, and welcome new subscribers,
I’ve done it! I have finished writing Witness for Wendy. Hurrah! It’s on track for a mid-October launch. Now it’s over to the beta readers in the advanced copy team, and on to the editor. Editing – Boo! If you would like to join the advanced reader team, please shout.
I’ve now started work on the next Meredith & Hodge novel. Just as Meredith thought he could relax, and Hodge thought he was behaving himself . . . but more of that next time. At the moment I’m wondering if my latest ‘what if’ character might have a role to play.
Do you ever ask yourself ‘what if?’ No? Do it now. Think about something important to you: Your partner, your job, your home, and ask some ‘what if’ questions. What if he/she had said no? What if you hadn’t gone into that bar? What if the car had broken down on that day? Where would you be now? What would you be doing?
I am a people watcher. But I’m very discreet – I hope. Even the briefest of encounters can become a dramatic snippet of someone’s life . . . in my mind. What if he’d missed that bus? What was he covering so diligently in the boot of that car? What would she do if he turned and walked away from her nagging? Why is that child wandering along the street on their own? What caused that black eye? And on, and on. I’m lucky, as now I can offload most of my theories into a story, thereby making them real. Yesterday, a mild case of road rage had me itching to write the offenders backstory.
While driving to work in a 20 MPH zone, I slowed to allow a car out of a side street and onto the main road. The gentleman waved politely and pulled into the traffic queuing ahead of us. Imagine my surprise when the car behind him shot forward and the driver shook her fist at me. She then began gesturing wildly for me to get a move on. I drove forward the few yards that I could, wondering where she thought I might be able to go. Intrigued, and inching forward in the slow-moving commuter traffic, I watched her in my rear-view mirror.
Clearly agitated, she gripped the steering wheel, all the while muttering to herself. When we finally started moving at a steady pace, she kept swerving into the cycle lane to see if she could overtake on the inside. Needless to say, every couple of hundred yards or so, an obligatory white van had bumped onto the kerb and blocked the cycle lane. Each time she saw this her hands would fly from the wheel, and she’d hold them up in disbelief, the muttering certainly now cursing. She was stuck behind me. There was no shortcut. She even beeped a cyclist, riding in the correct lane as he sped past.
I’m guessing she was in her sixties, driving an expensive estate car, and if you ignored the wild gesturing, and the obvious cursing, she looked like someone’s favourite aunt, and certainly not like a woman prone to road rage. Eventually the errant vans petered out and she saw her chance. She placed her hand on the horn, and drove up the cycle lane well over the speed limit, and took the next available turn, leaving the main road she’d been so keen to join.
What if it was an emergency? What if she didn’t get there in time? What had caused the urgency in her journey? Where was she going? Who would she meet at the other end? By the time I got to work I had at least six different scenarios, one of which will almost certainly make it into a future novel.
My reviews and recommendations have been updated here. Take a peep you might find something which takes your fancy.
I must get back to Meredith, don’t forget to shout if you would like to join the advanced reader team.