Thursday, 13 June 2013

Caught midway between Assassination ... & Harry 3


That time between one book and another reminds me of a line in an old song, Arthur’s Theme by Christopher Cross – When you get caught between the moon and New York City. It keeps cropping up in my mind, and seems to fit my current mood.
I’m back from a good vacation, and are doing jobs around the house, seeing family and friends, and sorting out all the stuff I’ve put off for a while; but I feel kind of vacant, as though I should be doing something else. I know I’m not literally between the moon and New York City, just mentally in two places.
I’m about to start on the final story in The Harry Fingle Collection, Harry 3 (a working tile that may stick). I have ideas bouncing around in my head but no fixed plan. I wrote the second book, Assassination Continuum, seat of the pants style, following just a brief outline, and it worked. I feel the last story needs structure and a map of where it’s going. There are many lose ends to tie up.
Harry 3 nags at me all the time. Wherever I am, whatever I do, I think of a plot scene, a line of dialogue, characters I want to bring into it, several sub-plots, and more. I’ve notes written in notebooks, scribbled on scraps of paper, typed on various electronic devices, jotted down on backs of newspapers and magazines. All I have to do is find them all and bring them together in one long list. I know I should be more organised and start off with one notebook, called new book or Harry 3, but I’m not. I find this sort of random, disorganised way of pulling it all together works. I get my best ideas when I’m on the go, rather than sitting down, looking at my laptop’s screen, and saying go to myself, now create the plot of Harry 3.
One of the best moments of inspiration came to me in the last few days. I had to drive down to Cornwall to pick up my daughter and all her belongings after she’s just finished her three-year degree course. I went down there on my own, and drove across Dartmoor and Bodmin Moor. It was a cloudy day with rain threatening. As I reached the moors, the clouds cleared and the sun shone right across the stunning moorland. It was late in the day, and the low, dipping sun hung as a big, red ball over the vast, empty spaces, glistening on the heather and craggy rocks, and made for a stunning view. After a bit, when I saw a sign for Bodmin town, I realised I was in Daphne Du Maurier country, where she based Rebecca and Jamaica Inn and many more of her evocative books. I had to stop. I pulled in and took a short stroll across the moor. I found an old, deserted cottage, and stopped and stared at it and the uplifting landscape for a few minutes. I would have liked to walked on further, but I was running a little late, and had to be in Falmouth for eight to meet up with my daughter and her boyfriend for a meal. I did, however, figure out the main plot for Harry 3. Now all I have to do is pull all my other notes together and write the book.
I start next week.
~~~
My latest work
Playing Harry: – the shocking murder of a man’s brother and sister-in-law and a breathtaking conspiracy bring into doubt the integrity of the CIA and MI6.
Read more on the Playing Harry blog.
Assassination Continuum.
A man is shot dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do the attempts on his life continue?
Available September. To read the 1st draft go to Wattpad.

Thursday, 6 June 2013

The good, the bad, and the very ugly


During last year’s cold, wet British summer I wrote an experimental short called Oh, What a Night! It’s an urban-fantasy where I invite some of the villains and good guys from my seven books to a wild, wacky party at my place. I did it as a bit of fun, really more for my own pleasure, and didn’t expect huge sales. I wasn’t wrong!

However, it was reviewed recently, and the reviewer said he or she would have enjoyed it more if they’d read some of my books before they’d read it.
Good point; so I thought I’d introduce some characters, and offer a free voucher from Smashwords for anyone who’d like to read it. 

Free at Smashwords: TA29U
amazon.comamazon.co.uk





Those I invited to the party.

From Playing Harry: a conspiracy so shocking it questions the integrity of the CIA and MI6. 


  • Harry Fingle: the main protagonist who’s screwed by the CIA and MI6.
  • Jimmy Ali: an ex con and petty drug dealer who helps Harry in his investigation.
  • Richard Morecombe: a media mogul who Harry works for but who plans Harry’s demise.
  • Amie Lau: Harry’s loyal lover of seven years who he ditches after she stood by him when he’s set-up and charged for a crime he didn’t commit.
  • Alex Gould: a nasty businessman who hires an assassin to kill Harry.
  • Kate Fisher: an ex employee of Alex Gould’s company who Alex blackmails, telling her to sleep with Harry to obtain information.


From Murder He Forgot: about a man who forgot he tried to kill his wife.

  • Guy Middleton: the main protagonist and the man who forgot.
  • Leonard Castsimatidis: a mafia gangster who sleeps with Guy’s wife.
  • Jorge: Leonard’s male lover.




From Death in The Fishing Net. A man hauls his wife’s body from the sea.

  • Monroe Lidlington: the main protagonist and the man who pulls up the body.
  • Stevie: Monroe’s lover.






From Killing Sam Forever. A man is revisited by someone he thought he’d killed thirty years previously.
  • Sam Crichton: a paraplegic who survived murder and revisits his attacker.
  • Jerome: the man who thought he’d killed Sam.
  • Julie Crichton: Sam’s wife and Jerome’s lover.




From Electronic Crime in Muted Key: about a man who buys a dead body, fakes his death, and reinvents himself on an idyllic Greek island.

  • Barry Carter: the man who fakes his death and reinvents himself as Sebastian Ainsworth.
  • Jo Sykes: a no-nonsense detective who hunts for Barry.
  • George Myrivitis: a Greek detective who assists Jo and sleeps with her.
  • Bruce Thompson: a gay vicar who’s blackmailed by Barry to help with his intricate Internet scam.
  • Tammy: a prostitute – also dragged into Barry’s scam – who later, under her real name of Sarah, goes after him.


From The Bloodied Black Heart: A man searching for the recipient of his late wife’s donated heart find himself in the middle of an international crisis where terrorists threaten to nuke London.

  • Grigoriy Nabutov: Grigoriy is the ruthless head of the Moscow mafia. He features in many of my books. His first appearance is in this book.



From The Wrong Menu: hidden behind the façade of a famous restaurant is a web of deceit, murder, and drug dealing.

  • Emma: a homeless dropout who’s befriended by one of the protagonists when he’s hounded from his home by his brother-in-law. 



Oh, What a Night! Free at Smashwords: TA29U.

For all books go to my author profiles:










Tuesday, 4 June 2013

After peace come the words

Surrounded by nothing but sea and sand can be truly inspirational. It was for me.

I've just returned from ten days in Provincetown, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and found this beach and several others where it was easy to drop down onto the sand, listen to the sound of the waves, watch the seagulls, and write. I had hoped to post a blog from there but the Internet connection wasn't that reliable and, after several attempts, I gave up.


We'd walk for miles every day along beaches like the one in the photo. I'd have a notebook and pen in my bag, and when we tired, we'd find a sand-dune, bunker down, and take a break.  My wife would read her book and I'd work on Harry 3, the final book in The Harry Fingle Collection. After a while we'd picnic on bread, cheese, fruit and wine. It was a hard life!  

Before we went to Cape Cod, we spent a weekend in Boston. On one wet day, we visited the Boston Museum of Fine Art where I saw this display on the wall.

Quite clever, I thought.










In between the walking, eating, and writing, I found time to read three good books. I don't review books. I don't feel I can give enough time to write a review that does justice to the writer's work. Here's a snapshot of each.



Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan, http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Tooth-ebook/dp/B007T99ENE/

Brilliantly written, and utterly compelling. Written in the first person from the perspective of one of the first  female recruits to MI5. A love story and a spy story combined, built around the male dominated British security services of the  70s, where woman didn't exist! The ultimate twist doesn't come until the final paragraph of the last page.

5 stars.





Tell No One by Harlan Coben,  http://www.amazon.com/Tell-No-One-ebook/dp/B0049MPI1Q/

Totally different in style from Sweet Tooth but equally brilliant. Dr Beck, a consultant paediatrician, relives the nightmare of when he and his wife were brutally attacked eight years previously and his wife died. But did she die, and are those that attacked the two of them still pursuing him? he asks when he receives a spooky email supposedly from Elizabeth, his deceased wife. A thriller where the suspense builds on every page.

5 stars. 


Disgrace by JM Coatzees, http://www.amazon.com/J-M-Coetzees-Disgrace-South-Africa-ebook/dp/B007A3SRTQ

I read this book years ago––can't remember when–– and stumbled across it again as I was packing to go way. I enjoyed it then, and always wanted to read it again, so I took it, a paperback, with me. JM Coatzees has an easy style of writing that flows effortlessly but is equally superb and beautiful. Disgrace, as the title suggests, is about the disgrace an eminent university professor suffers due to his philandering ways. It's a fictional portrayal of post-apartheid South Africa and shows that the county still had a long way to go.

5 stars.  

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

What does a writer do on vacation? Write of course.


I’m catching a plane in a few days, and will be, on Friday night, about 3500 miles away from my home. I’ll be in Boston, and I'm looking forward to enjoying all that the city has to offer. A day or two later, I’m driving to a remote part of Cape Cod where I’ll be surrounded by the Atlantic and sandy beaches. I’m going to walk a lot, read a lot and write. I won’t write as much as I do normally, when back home and at my desk, but I’m not going to stop. For me, writing is a pleasure, and something I hope I’ll still be able to do until I drop. So why should I stop doing it when I’m on holiday? You wouldn't stop eating or drinking!
It’s the change of surroundings, the inspiration from such a breathtaking location, and the time to let thoughts meander through my mind that’ll inspire me, and bring a freshness to my words. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll see as much of Boston and the surrounding area as I can fit in, visit Cape Cod’s villages, walk many of its fine beaches, and enjoy some of the freshest seafood I've ever tasted; but whether it’s just a few scribbled notes, a blog post, a tweet, or some experimental paragraphs of a new book, I will write.
And then there’s reading. I’ve loaded up my kindle and iPad with books taken from my long TBR list, and am looking forward to devouring several of them. Reading is essential to a reader, but when deep into completing your own work, it’s sometimes difficult to find the time and concentration to read. A vacation provides just that opportunity.
So, back to the suitcases, emptying the washing machine, and my wife’s list of things to do before we go on holiday.
My next blog post should come from Cape Cod – Internet and Wi-Fi willing.
~~~
My latest work
Playing Harry: – the shocking murder of a man’s brother and sister-in-law and a breathtaking conspiracy bring into doubt the integrity of the CIA and MI6.
Read more on the Playing Harry blog.
Assassination Continuum.
A man is shot dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do the attempts on his life continue?
Available September. To read the 1st draft go to Wattpad.
The Night I Met Me – a chilling short story about the night a man met his double.
A knock on the door on a dark, windy night brings a stranger into to a man's house. The man and the stranger look alike. As the evening unfolds, the stranger reminds the man of their disturbing past.
Free at Smashwords.

Thursday, 16 May 2013

It was a no-brainer


Rather like throwing a dice, I walked out of the room, through the front door, and started to walk down the dark, windswept, dirt track. I stared ahead, down the hill, and saw a flickering light in the distance, by the jetty; just as the man had said. It could be anyone or anything, I thought, as I turned up the collar of my jacket to shield me a little from the numbing cold, and trudged on–a feeling of awe and trepidation my only companion. I’d taken a gamble, and could easily end up dead.
About halfway down the track, I heard the sound of an explosion followed by rapid automatic gunfire coming from nearby. I stopped to listen. Vehicles were starting up and seemed to be heading my way. It’ll be them, the government shits, I said to myself, and looked around for a hiding place. I was a wanted man, and knew if they found me, they’d do terrible things, and make me suffer in a ghastly way before killing me. A friend of mine had been pulled from his house, stripped naked, strung up on a tree by his hands, whipped, beaten with sticks until he was unconscious, and then left until he died two days later. They’d hung a cardboard placard around his neck. It said, ‘Take this as a warning.’ All he’d done was speak at a rally in support of the opposition. I’d done much worse. I led a small group of rebels, who’ve fought and killed the government oppressors. They’ll hang, draw, and quarter me alive, I told myself.
By the time they’d turned into the track, I’d managed to hide under a large pile of leaves and branches–about four-foot high and six or seven feet wide–that had been dumped by the side of the track. I’d guessed the government forces had left it when they hacked a route through the scrub to make way for their trucks and artillery. I’d burrowed into it, managing to disguise my route in, until I lay on the cold, damp ground with most of the pile on top of me. I was soaked through to the skin, but felt as safe as I could be. I heard the trucks stop close by and the thumps of heavy boots of soldiers as they hit the ground.
‘Check everywhere. Beat the bushes back. Don’t leave anything unturned. He must be here, somewhere,’ a gruff male shouted.
My heartbeat increased. I felt sick, and started to tremble. I must stay still. They’ll see the leaves and twigs move. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to stop shaking.
‘Over there, that pile of leaves and stuff. Pull it apart,’ the same man yelled. I heard the sound of pounding feet, and felt rods or sticks being prodded into the pile. One came through close to my head, and then the weight of the pile on top of me started to lessen. They were pulling it apart.
Oh my God, I thought. This is it. Shortly I’ll be found and dragged out and set upon. I retched, and reached for my pistol. Maybe I can end it all before they get to me?
As my hand touched on my gun’s handle, I heard a sharp burst of gunfire. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat.
I heard anguished yells, another burst of gunfire, and then silence.
~~~
I reached the jetty five minutes later. The man had been right. Sara was waiting for me in a small motorboat. ‘Jump in,’ she said, ‘We’re going to an island over there.’ She pointed with her left hand at a small landmass that protruded out of the dark sea, about eight hundred metres away. Her right hand steered the boat. I stood next to her, my hand around her shoulder, and watched the bow of the boat slice through the dark waters.
After a few minutes she turned to me and smiled. A radiant smile, one I’ll always remember. I kissed her on the cheek. ‘Don’t say anything. It’s too difficult. I might not be able keep control of my emotions and steer the boat properly,’ she said, and kissed me on the lips for a couple of seconds before she turned back to concentrate on the voyage. I think I’d seen a tear in her eye.
~~~
Sara was my lover. We’d been a couple for three years, and had never been parted, apart from the last few weeks. We were hopelessly in love, and had vowed to stay together forever. She’d had to flee from her home because of her connections with me. Her family had crossed the border and were safe. She’d refused to leave the country and had fled to the mountains to a safe house. I’d become desperate to find out what had happened to her. Then a man had come to my hideout and said he’d seen her. He’d also brought information of the collapse of the rebel organisation in most parts of the country. My small unit was the only ante-government group left. He’d said the government troops were closing in on us and I should flee. He could guarantee safe passage across the border.
‘What about Sara?’ I’d asked him.
He’d shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’s on an island nearby. I could arrange for her to come and get you, but it’s a huge risk. If you come with me now, I’ll get you across the border tonight, and you’ll be safe.’
I shook my head. ‘No. I want to see Sara first. You said you could arrange it.’
The man looked at me for a few seconds, and then took out his phone. ‘I can, but it’s your choice. A trip with me to safety, or the risk of being caught and killed by the murderous government agents.’
~~~
At 3:00 am in the morning, Sara and I lay naked on the floor of a small boatman’s cottage, on the island she’d taken me to. As soon as we’d arrived, we’d lit a wood fire and some candles, and ate the meal she’d brought. Afterwards, we’d made love for several hours.
‘I love you so much,’ she’d said, turning to me and touching me on the chest, ‘but I guess we’d better go.’
Our plan had been to take the boat we came in back to the other side of the bay. She’d go back to her mountain safe house, and I’d head off to try and meet up with the guys who’d rescued me. The rest we’d leave to fate. We had no idea when we’d see each other again.
‘I love you too,’ I’d replied as we’d dressed. ‘I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, but we’ll meet again soon.’
We’d climbed down the small hill to where she’d moored the boat in silence. Once we’d boarded, we kissed and hugged each other before she started up the engine and headed off the across the dark night waters. She cried, and we’d held hands as she’d steered the boat.
When we were halfway across the bay, she turned and looked at me. I saw fear in her eyes. ‘Look,’ she said, and pointed to the spray that came from a boat speeding it’s way towards us.
‘Go down below,’ I said as I grabbed hold of my pistol.
‘No, you don’t know how to steer it,’ she replied.
‘I can manage. You take cover. I’ve a gun.’
She stared at me. ‘No. I’ll steer the boat, you can shoot.’
I’d seen examples of Sara’s resolution many times before. I knew she wasn’t going to move an inch. ‘Okay, but let me stand the other side of you.’
She remained glued to the wheel. I stood next to her, on the side of the fast-approaching boat, and watched it. When it was no more than one hundred metres away, it slowed, turned in a circle, and came to a standstill, parallel to us. I gulped when I looked at it closely. It was a military patrol vessel. Three men in uniform stood on the deck and faced us. They were armed with sub-machine guns, pointing directly at us. We had no chance.
~~~
I woke the next morning in a straw barn. I had no idea where I was. I turned and saw a familiar face. It was the man who’d come to my house the day before. The man who’d fixed up my evening with Sara. I saw his eyes were open. I tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Where are we? Where’s Sara?’
He stroked his beard and looked into my eyes. ‘We rescued you. We ambushed the government thugs as they dragged you both from the boat. There was an explosion. You passed out. We brought you hear. You’re safe now.’
‘And Sara. Where’s she?’
The man stared at me. He stroked his beard again, and narrowed his eyes. He reached forward and put a hand on my shoulder. He pursed his lips.
I felt a surge of pain throb through my body. My knees felt week. I started to tremble. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘I’m sorry,’ the man said, and hugged me.
***
My latest work
Playing Harry: – the shocking murder of a man’s brother and sister-in-law and a breathtaking conspiracy bring into doubt the integrity of the CIA and MI6.
Read more on the Playing Harry blog.
Assassination Continuum.
A man is shot dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do the attempts on his life continue?
Available September. To read the 1st draft go to Wattpad.
The Night I Met Me – a chilling short story about the night a man met his double.
A knock on the door on a dark, windy night brings a stranger into to a man's house. The man and the stranger look alike. As the evening unfolds, the stranger reminds the man of their disturbing past.
Free at Smashwords.

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

Let's talk about Harry


Harry Fingle is the main protagonist in Playing Harry. Harry’s thrown into a shocking conspiracy, choreographed by MI6 and the CIA, that claims the lives of his brother and sister-in-law and many others.
When I created him, I didn’t think for one minute I’d see him again after Playing Harry. He’d be the main character, that would be that, and I’d move on.
He’s essentially a goodie, in a good-guy bad-guy way, but he has his flaws, not least the way he dumped his long-term lover after she’d supported him during a long trumped-up court case against him for a crime he didn’t commit. After I’d finished writing Playing Harry, I recognised that much unfinished business surrounded him and it needed to be resolved. I decided I’d write a follow up, Assassination Continuum.
But I needed to check I knew enough about him. I asked myself some ask questions, like:–
  • How does he speak, and does he have a dialect?
  • What’s his favourite drink?
  • Does he have anything he’s passionate about?
  • How does he take his coffee?
  • What sort of clothes does he wear?
  • Are there things he doesn’t eat?
  • Does he have any annoying, nasty habits?
  • What music does he like?
  • Where does he live?
  • Who does he live with?

The list went on. I wanted to find out as much as I could about him, then realised these things are mainly material, impersonal, can be attributed to anyone–good or bad–and do nothing to reveal his true character and personality.
I didn’t care if he’s liked or not, but wanted him to be respected for what he goes through and does. I had to get into his head, understand how he’d handle various situations, and what made him tick.
I took to role-play; asking myself how Harry would react to circumstances I encountered. I didn’t want to develop him as a mirror image of myself, but was just trying to make him a compelling, interesting guy, and someone I wanted to hang around with. It was then I started to write Assassination Continuum and went through what I called Harry moments: times when I’d stop writing and think hard about how he’d react in a particular circumstance.
That was the time I found I’d started to like him, and looked on him as a friend.
And so I’m going to write a trilogy, The Harry Fingle Collection. Playing Harry–the first book– is published. I’ve finished writing Assassination Continuum. It’ll be published in September, and I’ll be starting on the third book in July, which should be done and dusted by the end of the year.
The Harry Fingle Collection is a trilogy about five life-changing years in Harry Fingle’s life. It deals with his crusade to expose the truth, his friends, his love affairs, his likes and dislikes, and the often-violent crime and conspiracies that haunt him.
~~~
Read more on the Playing Harry blog.
Assassination Continuum.
A man is shot dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do the attempts on his life continue?
Available September. To read the 1st draft go to Wattpad.
The Night I Met Me – a chilling short story about the night a man met his double.
A knock on the door on a dark, windy night brings a stranger into to a man's house. The man and the stranger look alike. As the evening unfolds, the stranger reminds the man of their disturbing past.
Free at Smashwords.

Friday, 10 May 2013

Blue, pink, and grey words




Ayia Napa, Cyprus: A man sits on a lighthouse in the harbour
Photograph: Petros Karadjias/AP.






After returning from Scotland, where I posted Walking with words, see below, I saw the image above in The Guardian and thought this could be another perfect spot for inspiration and thinking through a difficult piece of writing.
Surrounded only by a flat, tranquil sea, with the sky a magical mixture of dusty blue, pink, and grey, you’re alone–with only your thoughts for company.
I guess they’re many more remote and peaceful locations where wrestling with words and phrases is eased by the beauty of the surroundings. I’m certainly going to look out for them.
~~~
I heaved a sigh of relief today. I’ve now down as much as I can on my new book, Assassination Continuum, and it’s almost ready to go off to my editor.
~~~
Just published and Free at Smashwords.

The Night I Met Me – a chilling short story about the night a man met his double.
A knock on the door on a dark, windy night brings a stranger into to a man's house. The man and the stranger look alike. As the evening unfolds, the stranger reminds the man of their disturbing past.

~~~






My latest work
Playing Harry – about a conspiracy so shocking and breathtaking that it asks questions of the integrity of the CIA and MI6.
Assassination Continuum – the follow on to Playing Harry.
A man is shot dead in a café in Istanbul. The bullet was meant for Harry Fingle. His enemies are back. He confides in his old friend, Philip – a spy – who says he can arrange police protection. But what are Philip’s true motives? Why does Harry’s new lover ask so many questions and want to know his every movement, and why do the attempts on his life continue?
Available September. Read 1st draft on Wattpad.