Shoulder to the word-wheel!

G’day from Cairns! During my last book launch I gave away some lucky door prizes, previous books I had written. One prize was ‘Miriam: Walking through Broken Glass’, a story of an English jew, living through the horrors of both the first and second world wars. It has a few twists and turns which I won’t go into, but suffice to say it was one of my favorite historical fiction books. Anyway, I had a message a few days later on my Facebook page from the reader. She said it was the best book she has read and asked me if it was a true story. It turned out that she usually only read non-fiction and this was the first fiction book she had read for many a year. She was up most of that night and the next reading it. We all know what it’s like because we’ve all done it. As an author, this is magic to my ears! Having someone who enjoys your book so much that they have to share their experience with you is truly heavenly. Writers, (except for a very few lucky ones), don’t write for money, it’s a compulsion, a thirst that only writing can quench. There is a saying amongst the writing community, “If you want to end up with $1,000,000 then start off with $2,000,000!” and believe me it is true. I’ve thought long and hard about why I write. Is it the prospect of fame? The satisfaction of having your book enjoyed by other people? Of touching people you have never met? Or the ever decreasing hope of money? Well, I think it’s all of these. Each time you publish a new book you get that buzz of excitement in the back of the head. Is this the one? Will this catapult me up the best sellers list? Unfortunately, the usual answer is no. Not this one. So what I always do is to start the next book whilst my previous book is being edited. Thus I have one with my editor called ‘Boom!’ and another under pen called ‘The Grave Case of Ms Pennywhistle’. Maybe these may be the ones. Who knows? DSH

Hello from Cairns, Yes it’s hot, but hell, that’s what air conditioners are for and I’m tucked up inside my little office busy as a roo on steroids. Well, I still haven't come up with a name for this new book I’m writing, at the moment I’ve called it ‘The Grave Case of Ms Pennywhistle,’ but I don’t like it. It sounds like a lame imitation of ‘Eleanor Oliphant is Perfectly Fine’ which the book isn’t but the title sure as hell sounds like it. (By the way, if you haven’t read ‘Eleanor Oliphant is Perfectly Fine’, it’s a must read on my top five book list.) So, back to my book. I’ve just finished Chapters 17 and 18, both of which I’m very proud of. It’s funeral time, they are burying poor Mrs Butterworth, but someone has hidden a kilo of high grade cocaine about her person - in her mouth, under her armpits, and just about anywhere you can think of - Yes, even there. The next day is burial day, between cocaine escaping from the open casket, it is almost catastrophic, and is only held together by glue, duct tape and, well, a feral cat and a red tailed black cockatoo. (If I say any more, I’ll ruin the story for you!) I can add that the policeman, Sgt. Ern White, will be run ragged with all the reports he’s going to get. That and a suspicious death. Next stage of the story, I’m off to Sydney, where we’ll be meeting a very ugly, angry, pissed off drug lord who collects mens scrotums and hangs them around his neck. And that’s if he likes you! Actually I haven't defined the character yet, he’s in the fetal position ready to be born. I usually do that at night, or in the morning before I raise my heavy head off the pillow. So, with a bit of luck and a fair wind I’ll bounce out of bed tomorrow with the character fully formed. Well maybe... The body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.