Tag Archives: characters

A day off

I got to sleep in a whole hour this morning; 5:30 yay! I started my day with a cruise through social media, and a lot of bulldogs in my lap.

It was about 60 degrees outside today and bright sunshine. Pretty awesome. I went to lunch with an old work colleague, and enjoyed catching up with her. We could have had sloppy rain or even snow, so it was a nice day. The Boise area is awash in Autumn colors, so that only enhanced the day.

Otherwise, I pulled down my novella, The Hat, and looked at it with fresh eyes. It’s been fermenting in cyberspace for weeks now, and this is on purpose. A bit of distance seems to provide a more accurate vision.

I changed a few things, but not much. This was a first editing pass, not a deep search for problem words or anything like that. There is something different with this story, and I want to discuss that here.

In my novels, I usually reach a point where I’m sick to death of them. I’ve spent so much time with these characters that it wears me out. By the time they’re published I love them again, but it’s a cycle I’ve always gone through.

This story still excites me as much as when I first started. I suspect this has something to do with the length. It’s a novella, so I can read through it in one day. I also love a good buddy story, and this one fits that description.

I’m going to avoid the term “character driven” when I market it. I always thought it was a pretty good descriptor, but some bloggers have turned this into something bad. They claim it’s author-speak for a story with no plot or focus. (Psst, don’t tell anyone, but this is character drive fiction.) If you’ve enjoyed any of my characters in the past, you’re probably going to like these guys too.

I used some light-duty graphics in this story. One of the challenges when editing is keeping the graphics where they belong after rewording things. This may drive my formatter crazy, but I’m willing to pay extra to keep them. Don’t know how they’ll transfer when I share it with beta readers. I write in Pages, but email out in Word format.

I also started Sean Harrington working on some Lisa Burton promotional posters for this one. I have some fun ideas for them, and can’t wait to see the results of his magic.

All in all it was a great day. Got some decent work done, got to visit with an old friend that I also share a birthday with, now I get to watch the World Series. Can’t complain at all.

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Checking in

I’ve been pretty quiet here for the past week. (For me) It was the work week from hell, and it really had nothing to do with work. I had my critique group on Wednesday, and never got home until about 9:00. For a guy who gets up at four AM, that makes for a long day. I ate some leftovers and stayed up until they had time to settle. I don’t do well eating and going straight to bed these days.

Critique group went well. Everyone likes The Hat. They thought Lizzie was a character they could get behind, and it seems to be off to a good start. I have some written critiques to address, but I’ll get to them this weekend.

Whereas; Wednesday and Thursday all felt like one big day, Thursday night was great. That’s when my baseball team swept the Dodgers out of town, and I got home at a reasonable time. On the spur of the moment I decided to do a free day for The Enhanced League. It moved some copies, and did about as well as I expected it to. It was mostly in fun. This happened though:

That tells me that under these specific categories there isn’t much competition. Either that, or there isn’t much during the late summer. Either way, I’ll take it. Who knows if I checked at the peak time or not. It could have gotten higher at some point in the day. I sincerely hope those of you who grabbed a copy enjoy it.

Honestly, I may do this again if my team manages to win the wildcard game or something. It was kind of fun.

Last night was another super long day. My parents, along with my brother and his family, came through town. They flew out for Alaska today. Everyone wanted to go to dinner last night. It was great seeing everyone, but made for another long day. I think I got home at 9:00. I also couldn’t have a drink, since I had to meet everyone after work, then drive everyone back to the hotel. They didn’t stay with us this time, because we aren’t close enough to the airport.

My brother is a home brewer. He brought me a jug of apple cider, one of mead, and a beer he made. He wants me to test drive them for him, and who am I to argue.

Frankie, the alarm puppy, went of about 5:30 this morning. I’m counting it as sleeping in, because I need the positive perspective. They both wanted a lot of poodle time with Dad today, so typing was slowed down a bit.

I added new words to The Hat, but not in bragable numbers. I spent more time going back over what I have. It’s a plants and payoffs type thing. If I want something to happen in chapter nine, I have to set it up in chapter four. It’s all forward movement, but that’s where typos happen too. Cut half a sentence, add a new half, and months later when rereading it makes no sense. That’s how it works for me. Does anyone else run into that?

This morning, Lizzie got fired, crashed her car, saved one of six babies, shot one guy then tortured him later. She also destroyed the upright bass that belongs to the hat. They’re at about their lowest point, but things are about to take an upward turn for them. I need to look at it with fresh eyes and make sure their emotions are suitable.  There was a lot of action, so some reflection is appropriate for my next blast. You know, after I go over it a bunch of times.

Speaking of the upright bass, these things must have more names than any instrument in existence: Upright bass, contra bass, double bass, bass fiddle, etc.

I’m typing this at Peterson Toyota. My truck needs serviced, and they have these little work stations I can use. These folks have always treated me well, until today. There is a service representative here today that is an absolute bitch. She acted like I was interrupting her day, and I had an appointment. She made some rude and condescending remarks, and it kind of pisses me off. Just in case anyone from Peterson reads this, her name is Bobbie Jo. I will also note that my wife and I bought two very expensive cars here, I brought my father here from Nevada to buy his Tundra, and sent a co-worker here for his Toyota. My Tundra is a 2013, and I may be replacing it in a couple of years. Peterson isn’t the only dealership in town. They don’t have to kiss my ass, but some common courtesy would be nice. I can do without the eye rolls, sighs, and snotty remarks.

My wife has to work tomorrow. I have some serious editing to do on The Yak Guy Project, but I need a table to set up both iPads.  It’s our plan to assemble about a half ton of table when I get home. After that, the big flooring project of 2017 will be complete.

Hope you guys are having a great weekend so far.

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The Idea Mill #30

It’s been a long time since I trotted out an Idea Mill post here. Honestly, the feeds I got weren’t that awe inspiring lately. I also got busy with my own writing projects.

I checked my folder, and some of the things I earmarked really weren’t up to snuff, so I went looking.

All authors need inspiration. I get mine everywhere, but I use push feeds to send me news of things that are more my style than what the Kardashians might be up to. When I get a few decent ones, I assemble them into one of these posts. The hope is that one might inspire your next bit of fiction, or enhance something you’re already working on.

Let’s start off with Congress and the Military. You could write any number of horror stories just on those two words, but I found an article. A bill apparently moved from a sub-committee toward the floor of the House that would split the United States Air Force in two. The Air Force would remain, and the new group would be called The Space Corp. It hasn’t happened yet, but the fact they are discussing it lends all kinds of swagger to all those space military stories out there. You can read more here. The military hasn’t done this since the Army Air Corp was turned into the Air Force in the first place.

Let’s throw in the job announcement at NASA too. The one for Planetary Protection Officer.

The timing is ripe for one of those ground floor kind of stories. Maybe set the stage with top secret information that something is out there, and we need protection from it. Then introduce your first group of cadets and start outlining. Can’t find a threat? Let’s give honorable mention to this flying bat-monster over Chicago.

This is a well worn trail, and we all know it. Today, you have a point for some research to add a degree of realism to the piece you create.

Our next story is about unsolved languages. Apparently Facebook’s robots created a language of their own to interact with each other. The punchline is that we don’t know what they’re saying to each other. That could be a story all on its own, but a researcher brought us this cool article about Researching Lost Languages.

To me, this article has more interest than the Facebook news. Robots with a secret language is another well worn trail. There are all kinds of ancient languages out there that we’ve never been able to crack. Without the Rosetta Stone, we may not have cracked hieroglyphics. Other ancient languages don’t have a handy Rosetta Stone lying around. There is even a wonderful Nazi tie in that adds a veil of evil to the whole thing.

An ancient language researcher would make a neat character. It has shades of Dan Brown and Indiana Jones all at once, particularly with the Nazi tie. Maybe we wind up cracking one of these languages, and find out something that we really don’t want to know.

The last one involves a revelation that blood from young animals can slow down the aging process in older animals of the same type. This all started with dental research in the 1950s. Dentists are evil enough to make decent bad guys. Ever seen Marathon Man? It even had a Nazi tie in.

The research led to sewing lab rats together, and intentionally wounding the older of the pair. An unstitched rat was given the same wound. The one with access to young blood healed faster and better. There is even more potential in this research because the article delves into modern stem cell potential. To get more information, read the darned article.

I think I’m going to borrow from this one myself. I still have that Grinders novel I want to get to, and it fits right in. This could fuel any number of mad science type stories. It lends credence to some kind of Lady Bathory tales too. Need a modern day Fountain of Youth, maybe you just found it.

Just for fun, I try to come up with a corny story that uses all these elements. That young-blood story is going to be rough, but I’ll try.

The Men in Black captured a flying bat monster over Chicago. (Extra credit for using him) They tried to communicate with him, but couldn’t understand him until they found a researcher into ancient languages.

The researcher discovered he was speaking one of the ancient languages, but he needed time to interpret it. In the mean time, the Space Corp is formed and the first volunteers join up.

Eventually, the threat is revealed. Bat Monster is a spy, and the researcher recovers his communication kit. This allows eavesdropping on the invaders.

Our Space Cadets, (I hope they call them Space Cadets) ship out. They are going a long ways, so they have to be in suspended animation. Part of the process involves the Cadets donating their own blood as part of their revival process. The blood of eighteen year old Cadets will help reanimate the thirty year old soldiers when they arrive. Then, of course, they have to battle the hideous bat monsters.

How’d I do? More importantly, what will you do? Did you find a useful story element here? Maybe an entire plot?

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What’s in a name?

Naming fictional characters is fun, and a pain at the same time. Writing short fiction can really burn through names, but there are times I don't use them at all. In The Enhanced League, I'm having to come up with a lot of names.

I've used the Major League Baseball rosters for names in the past, but had to look elsewhere for names in these tales, because they are baseball stories. I never use someone's whole name, but sometimes a ball player's last name works for me.

The fact is that I'm parked on a great source for names, and can't use them. These are family members, and even if they've passed on, their children haven't. Some of these names have a lot of character, and that helps in fiction. (Some of the actual people were quite the characters themselves.)

Check some of these out. I'll drop the last name where appropriate, because it doesn't matter anyway.

Price David XXX was my grandfather. He went by Turk his entire life. (No Turkish blood in the family) Without ever knowing the man, there is some character already there.

My other grandfather was Hiram Sterling XXX. He went by Sterling.

I have a cousin named Tyna. It isn't pronounced Teena either. It catches the eye, and is interesting.

Gwladys was my grandmother. She Americanized it to Gladys after she immigrated here from Wales. Interesting side note, she came here on the Carpathia the year before it rescued survivors of the Titanic Disaster. Americanizing your name is interesting without writing a single word being written.

Ralph Edward XXX was a great uncle. He was the first born in a large family. Someone early on called him the little chap. He was Uncle Chappie his entire life. It's interesting.

Leonard Byron XXX went by Snuffy.

How about some of these; Charles Wellington XXX, Fred Niemeyer XXX, Thomas Harrington XXX, Walter Eddison XXX. They just have a nice ring to them. Walter Eddison was a polio survivor and one of the greatest characters I've ever known. He did like so many others, and named his firstborn after himself, but Junior was never used. He's always been Little Ed, and still is at about sixty odd years old.

Speaking of Uncle Ed, many folks in my family go by their middle names. Aside from my grandfather, Stella Phyllis XXX, Price Douglas XXX. I think going by the middle name also is intriguing. It might not be first page stuff, but it makes fictional characters interesting.

A similar relative was Clarence Lee XXX, he went by Sonny.

My other grandmother was Thelma Irene XXX. That just sounds so 1920s to me. It's an old name that gets no love these days. She was quite the character herself.

How about a great aunt named Coila Leona XXX. She went by Coila, and I've never heard the name before or since.

I'll throw in a family friend too. Her name was Agatha, only she didn't pronounce it like you might think. She insisted on Ah-gay-tha.

There you have it. A great list of names that are off limits to me. In a fictional setting, not every character can be a hero, and even heroes need flaws. Someone, somewhere, would complain that I painted their mother, brother, dad, etc. in a bad light. They might believe I thought poorly of those people, and I loved them to be honest. So these names are on my no-fly-list.

You can use them, I just can't. If you want a vampire named Thelma, or an axe murderer named Chappie, have at it.

I think it's interesting when people go by their middle name. I also think it's interesting when people go by nicknames. Without writing a single word, there is a tidbit of something in the character. It's interesting when people Americanize their name too.

On a personal note, this was an interesting exercise for me. Apparently I come from a long line of characters, and some of them were pretty over the top. Think about it, my grandparents were Turk, Thelma, Gladys, and Sterling.

So how about it you guys? Do you consider family names off limits? Do you think names are intriguing? Does the nuance of a name help when you write a character? What's your favorite source of fictional names? Do you like name generators? Talk to me.

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Amie in Africa visits Lisa Burton Radio

Today is Thursday, and that means it's time for another edition of Lisa Burton Radio. I'm your host, Lisa the robot girl, and my very special guest today is Amie Fish. “Welcome to the show, Amie.”

“I’m really pleased to be on the show Lisa thank you for asking me.”

“So what possesses a newlywed to uproot and move half-way around the world to darkest Africa?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Lisa. My newly married husband was offered a job in Togodo and it was expected that I go with him. I wasn’t looking forward to it, not one little bit. I had a good job in a local television production company and my family lived in the same town. I was quite happy as I was.”

“My bio says you got a little bored, and went to work using your journalism skills for an Army Colonel. What kind of reporting did you do?”

“Let’s backtrack a bit here. I was most certainly not bored. There was plenty going on at the Expats club, and I helped out at a local orphanage as well. And then we went to stay at a game lodge and the owner there taught us so much about the wild life and how the Bushman survived, and the wild plants you could eat and where to find water. It was all so fascinating. I think it was then that I fell in love with Africa.”

“Well it does say here you were blackmailed? Tell us about the blackmail. “

“This colonel just pitched up at my door one morning and asked me to film some projects for him. I didn’t want to, in Africa you steer clear of getting involved in anything with the authorities. But he hinted that Jonathon, my husband, would not be allowed to work and … well, as you can see I felt I had no choice. And the awful part about it – these projects were pure propaganda, there was no truth in any of the projects he asked me to show about their work uplifting the local community. Then, to make matters even worse I was asked to film the result of an ambush, and that was just awful. I did it twice and then made a firm decision not to do any more for him, no matter what the consequences were.”

“Good for you, standing up for what you believe in. What led to you take this stand?”

“It’s dangerous getting involved with politics when you’re a guest in a country, and by then I had fostered a child and I didn’t want any harm to come to her. I was hoping that maybe I could even possibly adopt her?”

“So what did you do?”

“Before I had a chance to refuse to work for the colonel again, the civil war broke out and I was flung in prison. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I managed to escape but the only way I could get to safety was to walk to the neighbouring country. I then had to remember everything I had learned about surviving in the wild.”

“It all sounds exciting, and dangerous. What did you–“

“Sorry, Lisa, I just can't. It's time for me to take another stand. That Clarke woman put me through hell… I can’t begin to list the things – torture, prison, a firing squad, escaping lions, more than once. You know she may have lived in Africa for decades, but I don’t think she had to endure the horrors she put me through. She’s now writing book four and I have to put a stop to it. And did I mention how many people she kills off just by tapping a few keys on her laptop? So now I’m seeking an injunction to keep Lucinda E Clarke from writing any more Amie stories, enough is enough.”

“I get it. Fictional characters have it tough. I got shot, electrocuted, and lost a couple of friends, as in dead, in the course of my story.”

“Well I'm not going to take it any longer. I’m looking into crowd funding, I’m mentioning it in the blogs and newsletters and I’ve already got a high end lawyer in London to serve her a warning. This interview is a great chance to get as much support as I can. There must be thousands of other fictional characters out there who are prepared to stand up to their authors, this is just the beginning of the revolution.”

“Amie, I think this might be a first. A fictional character suing her author. It looks like we have a caller. Hello, caller, you're on the air with Lisa and Amie.”

“Good morning Lisa, I’m Lucinda E Clarke, and I’d like you to terminate this interview immediately. It’s grossly inaccurate.”

“I have only spoken the truth, you did throw me in prison, you deliberately let me poison myself, you left me defenseless and alone.”

“You’re still alive aren’t you? I got you out of it all–“

“You didn’t have to put me in those situations in the first place. When you started writing about me I thought the books about me were going to be cosy and romantic and having babies and–“

“I gave you a more exciting life than that!”

“Oh sure you did, but you never consulted me did you? Well you’ve gone too far this time, especially the shock at the beginning of book 3 that was the final straw.”

“You had a new career waiting for you–“

“Yes, one I didn’t ask for and one I hate.”

“It’s obvious you are not going to listen to reason – while you are busy suing me, I can see that I have a radio show to counter sue and I shall have a restraining and gagging order on you.”

<click>

What a controversy. Thank you for agreeing to be on the show, Amie. Listeners who want to learn more about Amie's plight can pick up the ‘Amie in Africa’ series. I'll include all the links on the website.”

“Well thank you for listening to me Lisa, at least there is one person who understands. Lucinda doesn’t care, it’s just good to have one shoulder to cry on, even if you are a robot.”

“So how about it, listeners? Which side of this controversy are you on? Should authors go easier on their characters, or should the characters just buck-up and take it? Let's hear it in the comments.

“And don't forget to use those sharing buttons. I know Amie and Lucinda would appreciate it, and you will too when your character is on a future edition of Lisa Burton Radio. Have a great day everyone.”

***

Purchase Links:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWFIO5K

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B015CI29O4

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M67NRG4

Lucinda E. Clarke Bio:

Abandoned in the African bush with a 9 week old baby and no resources Lucinda could look back on a childhood of mental abuse, without knowing that before her lay an even more bizarre future. She would run the worst riding school in the world, broadcast live with a bayonet at her throat, be fired from her teaching position and thrown into the media world. She would learn how to lie in the name of propaganda, write about dozens of topics for a variety of clients and have her own newspaper column. She would meet kings and statesmen, international artists and rural Africans. She would win several awards along the way for her scripting and films. Eventually she would reluctantly leave Africa to retire in Spain. A few months later she would begin writing books – six to date in a variety of genres – and start a whole new career.

Follow Lucinda at the following locations:

Blog Amazon UK Goodreads Google+ Pinterest LinkedIn Twitter YouTube Facebook

 

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News and vignette

I got up late today and procrastinated with various forms of social media. I always flip through them before starting a writing day, but I lingered long enough to know I was goofing off. I still managed about 2800 words of The Yak Guy Project.

Yak Guy is the one where I’m trying to use the Major Arcana of the tarot as my story structure. I’ve had to meld some characters, and take a few out of order. Several things go on at once, and it doesn’t make sense to take them one at a time. For instance, the Empress character is also one of The Lovers. This overlaps the training of the Heirophont. I already had some of The Lovers, so I kind of moved faster on this section. It’s time for Strength, The Hermit, and the Wheel of Fortune. I may take some of these out of order, because it makes more sense to my story. I kind of want The Hanged Man before the Wheel. Right now I need to dwell on it some.

In other news, I woke up with a character and setting again. I don’t particularly want to dwell on her for weeks, and sometimes writing a vignette will get them out of my head. Here goes nothing, and remember I’m free writing this one:

Barbi Baronski awoke with a ringing in her ears. It was dark and dusty, and every muscle in her body ached. She stretched and her hands touched concrete overhead.

She’d driven into the city to model a new line of fitness wear, but couldn’t remember if she was going to the shoot or driving home. Daylight was visible if she looked along the ground above her head. She tried to rollover and crawl, but it was too tight in here. She slid along on her back using a kind of frog kick with her legs.

The ringing faded a bit, and Siri’s voice asked, “What can I help you with? What can I help you… What can I… What?, What?, What?…” Barbi kept sliding. Her back became a slow motion road rash of cuts and dirt.

Fresh air seemed like a wonderful thought, but it was dust, smoke, and grime. The sky above was brilliant blue, but there were no contrails, birds, or even trees. She pulled herself out of the rubble and sat upright.

The remains of her tattered top fell on her lap. Her $200 jeans were mostly threads, but clung together by some miracle. The entire world was silent except for the ringing in her ears. She covered herself with her right arm and stood up tentatively. There was nobody around. The place looked like a gravel pit, except for a twisted streetlight that snaked through the rubble.

She always drove home on 76, and thought she recognized some of its outline. Thank God her trainers survived. She walked for miles through the rubble. Pieces of automobiles dotted the landscape, and tiny bits of building foundations started appearing. The farther she walked, the more the rubble started to look like something. She stopped covering herself, because nobody was around at all.

By mid afternoon, her stomach reminded her that she was starving. She spotted a few walls and veered off her path to investigate. It turned out to be a family restaurant of some kind. A shard of mirror showed her that nearly six inches of her brunette hair had been singed away. A copper pipe produced a small blue flame at the end. The gas lines were still on out here.

She dug through the rubble and found a single can of refried beans, a tiny frying pan, and a bent chef’s knife. She used the heel of the knife to chop the can open enough to get it in the pan, then held it over the open flame until it smelled edible.

She kicked through the rubble and turned over a small table. A piece of concrete served as a chair. She managed to bend the tines of an old fork into a relatively useful position and ate in silence. Hardly health food, but it was food and that’s all that mattered now.

Across from her on a piece of remaining wall were three huge frames. Two were missing everything, but the third one appeared to be the dinner menu. It read:

  • Meatloaf $6
  • Prime Rib $13
  • Rack of Ribs $11
  • Sides…

The rest was torn away and it appeared to be cloth of some kind. Threads dangled in the breeze. She finished her beans, and used the bent knife to cut away most of her fancy jeans. $200 custom cutoffs? She split the pants legs and used some electrical wire to make them into a purse of sorts. She placed the pan and the old fork inside.

 

A rock smashed the remaining glass from the menu and she removed the cloth, cut a hole for her head and used more wire to stitch the sides closed. She looked down at her new shirt which now read:

 

Prime

Rack

 

Barbi tucked the bent knife into her belt and headed into the setting sun. Home was important, but if it wasn’t there any longer, she would head west until she found a new place to call home.

 

***

I have no idea what caused the disaster, aliens, war, the refried bean festival. I also have no intention of finishing Barbi’s story, but something may come to me in the future. These vignettes are a way of retiring some of the ideas I get. Sometimes it works, and sometimes I have to revisit them even years later.

There was more too it, like a dried up river, and talking to a snake. The snake represented an ancient survivor, and Barbi drew a parallel to herself as a survivor. I figured the post was long enough, and maybe Barbi could go on her adventure without me.

How about it you writers? Do you ever wake up having been visited by the muse? Do you make notes, forget about it, start another project? I can’t write all of mine. Barbi could be a good character, she’s obviously strong. Maybe she can be a side character one day, or maybe her story will come to me later.

It appears my muse is getting back into shape. Back to the paycheck job tomorrow.

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Geocaching with a side of murder

Regular readers will recognize D. S. Nelson, who’s been here many times before. She’s the author of the Blake Hetherington mysteries, which is a series of cozy mysteries. I’ve read a couple of these, and thoroughly enjoyed them. I think you will too. DS is having coffee with Delilah, one of her characters in this scene.

‘Geocaching is treasure-hunting for the cool.’ Delilah said, scraping the last of her breakfast onto her fork.

We were sitting in the Food Shangri La Cafe. I was nursing a cup of chicory coffee, not sure if I was enjoying it our not. Without caffeine, Delilah’s rapid conversation can be hard to keep up with.

‘And if I’m not a geocacher I’m a muggle, is that right?’ I replied.

‘Right,’ Delilah said eating the last of her Eggs Shangri La and reaching down beside her chair to rummage in her bag.

The eggs did look good. I was about to order some myself but before I could catch Carla Osman’s eye, Delilah pushed a leaflet across the table towards me.

‘Here. This’ll tell you the basics,’ she tapped at it and I looked down at the leaflet: ‘A Guide To Geocaching In Tuesbury’.

 

She tutted at me. ‘You’d think as Blake’s amanuensis you’d know more about this stuff DS!’

‘Blake keeps me pretty busy,’ I was irritated. ‘I’m on my way to the library to get some books out, but you called and wanted to meet for coffee.’

‘No need to get huffy,’ Delilah smirked at me, she knows how to wind me up. ‘This’ll save you some time, then. I better get back over the allotment. I want to check on my strawberries.’

Relinquishing a smile, I replied, ‘See ya later. Thanks for leaflet.’

‘You’re welcome. Thanks for breakfast.’

I rolled my eyes. I was picking up the bill again then.

The wind chimes jangled as Delilah left the cafe, unhooked her Jack Russell, Bertie’s lead from the peg outside and crossed the road to the allotments.

Delilah was great at keeping an investigation going when Blake got cold feet but boy could she be smug.

I took another sip of the bitter coffee, wincing at the taste.

‘Urgg’.

It was an involuntary noise that did not go unnoticed by the cafe proprietor. I busied myself reading the leaflet. There was a lot I still had to learn about geocaching. Delilah’s right, as Blake’s author it was high time I tried geocaching and Tuesbury would be the perfect place for treasure hunting.

To find out more about geocaching in Tuesbury and help the next Blake Hetherington mystery become a reality go to: http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/a-deadly-orientation/

***

Bio: D S Nelson is a writer of murder, mystery and intrigue. She lives in a quixotic village in the South Downs, UK, surrounded by plenty of inspiration for her novels. Her introduction to murder came from Agatha Christie. Her inquisitive Miss Marple of St Mary Mead and very Belgian Poirot with his ‘little grey cells’, captured her imagination from a young age. With a passion for the crime genre, in particular detective fiction, D S Nelson’s writing includes cosy crime novels, novelettes and short stories. She is often inspired by the world around her, nature, history and of course people. She is currently working on the Blake Hetherington mystery series, the first six of which are now available on Kindle with novels in the series also available in paperback.

Amazon author page

Website

Twitter: @WriterDSNelson

Facebook: WriterDSNelson

Instagram: WriterDSNelson

Note from Craig: Delilah Delibes appeared on the very first ever episode of Lisa Burton Radio. Maybe you want to learn even more about her, and the books of D. S. Nelson.

Make sure you follow her links. We are doing a blog swap today I’m talking about the inspiration behind one of my short stories on her blog.

 

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