David W. Robinson's Blog: Always Writing, page 46
January 6, 2013
Suspending Disbelief
For an hour or two last night, Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend was at number 19 in the UK Kindle Crime & Mystery, British Detectives chart.
It didn’t last. It’s since slipped back to number 24, a part of the top 30, where it’s been sat since Christmas. But for a short time I gazed at the charts with a sense of disbelief. One of my cosy whodunits had become a top twenty hit.
And that spurious mention of disbelief brings me nicely to today’s topic, the suspension of disbelief.
I never look for reviews. Readers read and if they’re so inclined they comment. I don’t ask for them, and good or bad, I never respond to them, except for a brief note of thanks for reading.
It irks me, however, when I read reviews of other writers’ works and I see a comment like… “That could never happen in real life.”
Couldn’t it?
There’s a scene in The I-Spy Murders where Joe bumps into his brother’s ex-wife. He’s ninety miles from home, he turns a corner and there she is, with her husband, drinking tea at an outside cafe. Impossible, you say, and if not impossible, too big a coincidence for the reader to swallow.
And yet it’s based on a real life incident. My wife and I were in Skegness (a British seaside town) in 2011. We had just finished coffee at a pavement café and were making ready to leave, when my ex-wife and her husband walked in. We were 150 miles from home, they were 100 miles from their home and we had no idea they were in Skegness. Coincidence? Yes, but not impossible.
When it comes to cosy crime and the amateur sleuth, disbelief has to be suspended before you begin to read. Ask yourself, is it likely that the police would turn to Mr ’Olmes or M Poirot for advice? Would they really allow an interfering old biddy from St Mary Mead shove her oar into a case of murder? When it comes to reality, you can’t get much further away than Holmes, Poirot and Miss Marple, but it never stopped millions of readers (me included) becoming lost in the intricacies of their deductions.
Everywhere the Sanford 3rd Age Club go, they come across a murder upon which Joe can let loose his agile mind, ably supported by Sheila, Brenda and the rest of the gang. Is that likely? Of course not. Does that stop the readers’ enjoyment? Of course not.
How many great detectives would we lose without suspension of disbelief? Campion, Lord Peter Wimsey, Jessica Fletcher, Agatha Raisin, Libby Sarjeant… I could go on, and on.
If the reader is looking for a good dose of reality, then they should be reading police procedurals, not cosy whodunits.
***
My Deadly Valentine, the sixth STAC Mystery from Crooked Cat Books is released February 6th 2013.
Six Sentence Sunday: Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend
Every Sunday, I will post six sentences from one of my novels. Today’s excerpt is from my bestselling Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend, the fifth STAC Mystery.
In the short scene that follows, Joe has been informed of a murder in one of the room and he needs the hotel manager, Cliff Denshaw, to bring the key along. But Denshaw is far from eager to enter the room.
***
When they arrived at the room, Denshaw’s hands were trembling so badly, he could hardly get the key into the lock. Eventually Joe took over, turned the lock, pushed the door open and stepped in, automatically reaching for the light switch.
His legs, too, were shaking. He reminded himself sternly of the times he had been in this position before. He had come across the body of Edgar Prudhoe just moments after he was killed, and he had seen the man’s wife dead the morning after. He had been shown photographs of Jennifer Hardy after her head was caved in and Ursula Kenney after she had been hanged.
Whetted your appetite?
Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend is available from download from:
Amazon UK (Kindle)
Amazon Worldwide (Kindle)
Smashwords (all formats)
Crooked Cat Books (EPUB, MOBI, PDF)
And in paperback from:
January 5, 2013
Big Brother Vs I-Spy
They tell me Celebrity Big Brother is running again. I wouldn’t know. I watch very little TV, and I’ve never watched this drivel.
I tell a lie. I watched about two minutes of it once, while on a caravan holiday near Filey. It was accidental. I got up in the early hours of the morning and fancied a cup of tea and smoke, so I switched the TV on and there it was: Big Brother. Four in the morning and what was so riveting about it? Nothing. They were all asleep. As entertainment goes, I have a video of paint drying on the garden fence which is more interesting.
And I don’t accept that most people want to watch it. It’s simply that if you don’t give them a worthwhile alternative, they will watch. It sums up modern TV: dumbed-down dross. It also sums up why I prefer to switch the damn thing off and settle down with a book.
Needless to say, Joe Murray’s attitude to reality TV coincides almost exactly with mine. Why wouldn’t it when there’s so much of me in Joe? Odds on, then, that the STAC Mysteries would involve a murder on a live reality show where Brenda was one of the contestants.
Here’s Joe expounding on the subject while taking a breakfast order from a customer who has asked why a large screen TV is being installed at the Lazy Luncheonette.
“We’re gonna tune it to the I-Spy channel so you lot can eat your breakfast and gawp at Brenda making a fool of herself.”
“I might come back a TV star,” Brenda shouted from the kitchen.
“You might come back with your reputation in tatters, Brenda,” called the dray man handing over a ten pound note in payment for his breakfast.
“Her reputation can’t sink much lower,” Joe commented, ringing up the sale and clawing change from the cash register.
The I-Spy Murders is set in a reality TV show similar to Big Brother. I changed the show’s format because the real thing didn’t sit too well with a murder mystery. I might be daft, but I’m not totally stupid. Whodunits are tough enough to write without making life totally impossible.
I consider it one of the better STAC Mysteries. The final clue which tips Joe off to the killer’s identity took me ages to work out, and I defy anyone to second-guess it.
Oddly enough, however, The I-Spy Murders is not as popular as the other four STAC titles. It’s the only one not currently in the UK Kindle British Detectives top 100. So, is it that the title doesn’t hint sufficiently at the content? Or did I alienate all the Big Brother, X-Factor, BGT, Don’t Tell the Bride fans?
That’ll teach me to keep my opinions to myself.
January 2, 2013
It’s Now Four in the Charts
We’re into day three of 2013, and there is no letting up on the STAC chart activity. As at 6:30 this morning there were no less than FOUR of the five books in the UK Kindle British Detectives top 100.
In descending order, they were:
Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend #27
The odd one out is A Halloween Homicide, which despite enjoying a higher overall ranking than The I-Spy Murders, doesn’t appear in the chart.
To keep this in perspective, the STAC Mysteries are not setting the world on fire. They’re not challenging the likes of Lee Child, Karin Slaughter, or even Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. But we’re not trying to compete with them.
Amazon UK lists 1908 Kindle titles in the Crime/Mystery/British Detectives category. Four of my books are within the top five percent of that category. For an unknown, working from a small base with a comparatively new publisher, that’s not a bad showing in under a year.
Is STAC capturing imaginations?
Some of the reader feedback indicates this is so. Reader A Jardine said of The Filey Connection: the characters all seem like people you’ve met at some time.
The STAC Mysteries are easy reads. If you’re faced with an eight-hour, transatlantic flight, how are you going to pass the time? Watch four movies in a row? Or dip into your Kindle and follow the light-hearted adventures of Joe, Sheila, Brenda and the gang as they seek to crack another devious crime between the blood pressure pills and halves of bitter?
The STAC Mysteries are not designed to harass the reader, but to entertain. The clues are all in there, mingled with the red herrings, the gags and the inevitable shopping trips, slipped in between the arthritis embrocation and jiggling to the 70s disco music.
From settling into your seat at 35,000 feet, to the captain announcing descent into New York, you can lose yourself in a world that is far removed from the gloom and doom of everyday headlines. From boarding the train at Manchester Piccadilly, to getting off at Euston, you can drop into a world where the reality of political posturing and celebrity chit-chat takes second place to a puzzle, which only a razor sharp mind like Joe’s can crack.
***
Want to know more about the STAC Mysteries, get the background on the characters and locations? Checkout their website.
January 1, 2013
The Handshaker – Excerpt
A happy New Year to everyone. Here we are at the beginning of 2103, and as usual the year holds forth whatever promise we can make of it.
My focus is on the imminent re-release of The Handshaker. Unlike the STAC Mysteries, this is a gritty tale of serial rape and murder, with a questionable occult/paranormal edge to it. The tone is dour, grim and not for the faint-hearted. You can read Chapter One elsewhere on this site.
In many ways, Felix Croft, the protagonist, is as sharp as Joe Murray, as the following excerpt demonstrates.
Croft’s partner, Patricia Sinclair, has been abducted and he’s received a cryptic note, which he and the police assume is from The Handshaker. Questioned by Inspector Millie Matthews and Superintendent Ernie Shannon, Croft is asked for his analysis.
“This note, like the others, is designed to make you think that you’re dealing with an inadequately educated, streetwise kid, but in fact, he’s a well educated man probably in his fifties.”
Both police officers were surprised.
“We guessed he was no kid, but where do you get your estimate of his age?” asked Millie.
“From the wording,” Croft said. “In places he uses text shorthand, ‘g-r-8-t’ instead of the word ‘great’ in the second line. Trouble is, he’s put an extra ‘t’ on the end of it and no kid into text or chat rooms would make such an elementary error. He didn’t repeat the mistake with ‘l-8-r’ in the next line. This is no youngster, just someone trying to persuade you that he’s one. Next, look at the apostrophes. There are two contractions in this note; don’t and won’t. In both instances he has used the apostrophe. Take it from me, most of my students don’t even know the apostrophe exists, never mind how to use it. This indicates a man who was properly educated. Taken with other factors, it may be that he’s a man who had apostrophes beaten into him, and that puts him in school back in the fifties and sixties.”
Despite his obvious surprise, Shannon managed to ask, “What other factors?”
“First, I’m thinking of the word ‘fag’, used in the second line. It has several connotations. To the British, a fag is a cigarette, to Americans, a fag is a homosexual, but to other, privately educated people, like me, a fag is a first year pupil there to do the bidding of six formers, and it seems to me that his second line hints at this interpretation. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he was educated at boarding school.”
Croft glanced up briefly to ensure they were taking it all in, then returned to his ad hoc lecture.
“In that same line, he uses the word ‘bint’. Another interesting word. It’s Arabic. It originally meant a young woman, usually without a daughter. It came into English slang in the late 20s and was in general use throughout the 40s and 50s, when the slang for a woman began to change: bird, chick, bit of tail, bit of skirt, and these days it’s totty. This indicates to me that he was probably a teenager anywhere from the end of the war to the end of the sixties.”
Croft shuffled his notes around. “In one of the other notes, yesterday, I found a reference to yoni. Along with its male counterpart, lingam, the word has come into modern usage, but it’s hardly commonplace. It would be immediately recognisable to anyone into tantric sex, but its genesis in the English language goes back to Sir Richard Burton’s translation of The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana, a book which only became generally available after the Chatterley trial in 1960. Most teenagers from that era would have read the book if only for its erotic content, in the same way that they read Lady Chatterley and John Cleland’s Fanny Hill, looking for the ‘naughty bits’.”
Croft pushed the note to one side and focussed on the two officers.
“My guess is, he’s somewhere between 50 and 60 right now. Given his apparently incredible stamina in taking and raping these women, I’d go with a slightly younger age, but you never can tell.” He shrugged. “Essentially, what you have here is either a middle-aged man or a well-educated, younger man who’s gone to a great deal of trouble to disguise himself as middle-aged, and either way, he’s trying to pretend that he’s a young, streetwise kid.”
***
The Handshaker is released by Crooked Cat Books on January 18th. Visit the Facebook page for more details.
December 31, 2012
New Year Greetings
It’s that time when we all look back and reflect on what’s happened over the last twelve months, and look forward to what may come.
It’s been a remarkable year for me. After pottering through most of 2011, self-publishing my work, I signed on with Crooked Cat Publishing at the turn of the year, and I have no cause to regret that decision. Innovative, open-minded and fast moving, Laurence and Steph Patterson, the husband and wife team behind Crooked Cat, provided everything I ever needed in a publisher including editing, cover design and paperbacks to complement the e-books. Under their banner, the STAC Mysteries have performed twice as well as when I was self-publishing them, and when you consider that three of the five titles were only released towards the end of the year, the figures are even better. I’m not in the bestseller league yet, but the STAC Mysteries are entertaining a lot more readers.
It’s not all been sweetness and light. Voices, a major psycho-horror/sci-fi tale, receives excellent reviews, but steadfastly refuses to sell.
My output remains consistently high, and 2013 promises more STAC Mysteries, more adventures for Felix Croft and Millie Matthews, and a new series with Detective Inspector Samantha Feyer as the lead. All of which will probably help keep my editor and dear friend, Maureen Vincent-Northam in Lurpak and custard powder for the coming twelve months.
I’m still dogged by health problems, but they may have bottomed out. I had only one rush to A & E this year, and as usual, it was not a heart attack. I’m slowly making the lifestyle changes I need to make, but I’m still struggling with the biggest two problems: smoking and weight. I’m confident of getting there, if only because my long-suffering wife has vowed to nag the pants off me in 2013. What better motivation could a man have?
I’m at a party tomorrow, so the New Year kicks in for me properly on Wednesday, at which point I will start in earnest on the diet and have another push at kicking the evil weed.
Friendships, too, have developed over the year. From the team of authors and editors at Crooked Cat via the members of Writelink, to the blitz of Facebook and Twitter, I’ve reaffirmed old friendships and made new ones, all of which I look forward to maintaining in the coming year.
It only remains for me to sign off 2012 by wishing you all, whoever and wherever you are, a happy, healthy, successful, prosperous New Year. May all your dreams be fulfilled.
December 28, 2012
More Chart News From STAC
There was a spectacular array of STAC Mysteries in the UK Kindle British Detectives top 100 at seven o’clock this morning.
#23 Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend
The only one not to make the top 100 was A Halloween Homicide.
Why are they suddenly so popular?
The time of year helps. Many people will have bought or been given Kindles over Christmas, and they’re eager to fill them. The price, too, plays a part. They’re currently part of the Crooked Cat Sale, and priced at just 77p (99ȼ) per title. I pay almost twice that for a loaf of bread at our local supermarket, and the bread doesn’t last as long as a STAC Mystery.
I’d like to think that the writing and the characters help. One reviewer said of The Filey Connection, “The characters all seem like people you’ve met at some time.”
That’s not accidental. I spent a great part of my working life travelling the length and breadth of Great Britain, and I’ve met my fair share of Joe Murrays, Les Tanners and George Robson. How many of us don’t know a merry widow like Brenda, a reserved widow like Sheila, or a hypochondriac like Sylvia? These are characters, not caricatures. Joe is no big hero, Brenda is not a sultry-eyed siren. They’re just ordinary people out to enjoy their middle years, free to relive their teens, and if the bones are too fragile for break dancing and head-banging, they can nevertheless still twist the night away. And if you’re going to tell me that middle aged people can’t do the bed-hopping, then I would suggest you need to do a little more research. The fabulous fifties and sensational sixties may not be setting records, but they’re still capable of a damn good time behind locked doors.
And along with these fun-loving, born-again teenagers, are plots which, for all their intricacies, are bog-standard murder mysteries, the kind we’ve all been enjoying since the heyday of Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple.
And long may it continue.
***
If you have an e-reader other than the Kindle, don’t despair. You can still download the STAC Mysteries at sale prices, direct from Crooked Cat Books.
December 26, 2012
Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend an excerpt
Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend is set in Lincoln over the New Year. Joe and the STAC members are celebrating in style with a murder mystery play spread over the three day holiday, but when there are two real murders, things begin to get complicated.
In the following extract, Joe is talking with Melanie Markham, the producer/director of the Murder Mystery Weekend.
“These murders mirror Haliwell’s Heroes.” Melanie’s tones changed, carrying an air of resignation. “I didn’t want to say any of this, but you’ve already guessed ninety-five percent of the solution anyway, so here goes. Kerry Dolman was shot in the head with a small calibre pistol. In real life, Reggie Grimshaw was shot in the head with a small calibre pistol. You don’t know it yet, but in the next scene, Valerie Wilson will pronounce Zara Lucescu’s death, declaring it be strangulation, using the electricity cord from the bedside lamp. And we’ve just found Naomi Barton strangled.”
“Yes, but not using the electricity cord from a bedside lamp.”
Melanie smiled wanly. “Our play is set in 1950, Joe. Electricity cables back in those days were more flexible, more like rope. Besides, as you’ll learn, Valerie has it wrong. Zara was strangled with …well, do you know what a cheese wire is?”
Joe stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby planter. “Of course I do. Every good kitchen has one. It’s a long length of fine wire used for cutting cheese.”
“Yes, but in World War Two, commandos carried one as a weapon for silent killing. Once round the victim’s neck, it bites into the skin and there is no way the victim can get his fingers underneath it to pry it free.” Melanie’s eyes burned into him, willing him to understand her concern. “I thought of it right away when you said Naomi had been strangled with fine wire. Joe, someone is copying our play.”
Joe’s lightning mind had got there ahead of her. “But they’re carrying out these murders before they’ve seen the drama, and that means it’s someone who has seen Haliwell’s Heroes before.”
Melanie nodded. “That’s one possibility. There is another.”
It was obvious that Melanie did not want to say it. Joe looked beyond the hotel, along the main road. In the distance, he could see the headlights and flashing blue emergency lights of police vehicles hurtling towards them. He felt relieved. At least Inspector Grant could take over now.
Joe looked Melanie in the eye. “That it’s one of your crew.”
***
Usually priced £1.99, Murder at the Murder Mystery Weekend, a STAC Mystery, is on sale at 77p for the rest of the day today. You can download it for the Kindle from Amazon UK, Amazon Worldwide and in MOBI, EPUB and PDF formats from Crooked Cat Books.
Load That Kindle Fill That Nook
Did you have a good Christmas? Excellent. Would you like to hear about mine? No. All right, then, I’ll tell you.
Unpleasant and debilitating gastric problems, meant I couldn’t wander further than ten yards from the lavatory for most of the morning, until the meds kicked in.
We left for my sister-in-law’s place at 2:15 and I was sure I’d forgotten something.
There was a small hole in the road on the way to town. Nothing to worry about until I hit it and learned that although it was small, it was also deep. Front wheel rim now damaged, argument looming with local council on Thursday where I will expect them to pay for a new wheel.
When we got Hazel’s place, I remembered what it was I’d forgotten. My hearing aids. I passed a pleasant seven hours hearing almost nothing of what others were saying, unless they shouted at me.
We came home about ten o’clock, by which time the meds were wearing off and I was in need of the lavatory again. I finally hit the sack about midnight, and my grumbling tum had me awake again just before five this morning.
Merry Christmas? Roll on the summer solstice.
Still and all it’s a working day today, and in the finest tradition of British business, the Crooked Cat Sale of the Century (well the year at least) is now on.
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Every single title from Crooked Cat is priced at just 77p for today and tomorrow.
This means you can load your brand new Kindle with all five STAC Mysteries for less than than the price of 10 cigarettes, and trust me, the STAC Mysteries will do you more good.
Didn’t get a Kindle? Shame. But not to worry because you can get them in MOBI, EPUB and PDF formats, and they’re still only 77p each.
And this is the best part. You don’t have to leave the house. There’s no need to brave the snow/wind/rain/sunshine, no need to burn any petrol, no need to queue at the checkout. Just get online, and buy.
Where will you find them?
Click the covers on the right hand sidebar, and they’ll take you to the Amazon Kindle pages, or follow this link to my pages over at Crooked Cat Books.
And remember, it’s not just my works on sale, it’s everything. The romance, the historical, the hard boiled crime, the adventure, fantasy… the lot. You could near fill your new e-reader for under thirty quid.
Go on. Treat yourself. It’s Christmas. Innit?
December 25, 2012
Christmas Day at the Lazy Luncheonette
A bit of festive fun with Joe and Co.
“It’s unusual though, innit, Uncle Joe?” said Lee Murray. “I mean normally, you come to ours on Christmas Day.”
On the other side of the Lazy Luncheonette, Lee’s son, Danny, played a game of pass the parcel with his mother, Cheryl, ably assisted by Sheila and Brenda.
“I just thought it would make a change,” said Joe, sipping on a glass of brown ale. “Sheila’s sons are both in America, Brenda would have been on her own, and you’d already been to see your mother the other day, so why not make use of the café while we have it to ourselves.”
Brenda casts a twinkly glance at him. “Knowing you, I’m surprised you didn’t open the doors for any passing trucker.”
“Nothing wrong with the profit motive,” Joe assured her. “But it is Christmas Day and there are no passing truckers.”
Cheryl took another layer of wrapping from the parcel as the music stopped. “Nearly there, Danny,” she said as Sheila started the cassette again. “Just one more wrapper.”
The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy tinkled through the empty café and the parcel did the rounds again. With a careful eye on its progress, Sheila stopped the music when it passed to four-year-old Danny.
The boy tore eagerly at the final sheet of wrapping paper, then held up the trophy for his mother’s approval.
“It’s a meat pie,” he declared.
“No, Danny,” Joe corrected him. “It’s a steak and kidney pie.”
Brenda took the pie from the boy and read the label. “Rock hard and three months out of date, too,” she said, with a sour glare at Joe.
“I found it at the back of the freezer,” Joe explained.
“Can I have it now, Mum?” Danny begged.
“It’ll make you poorly, Danny,” his mother replied.
Danny pouted and Sheila stood up. “Tell you what, Danny, how about some jelly and ice cream? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
“You are such a tight arse, Joe,” Brenda grumbled.
“What would you expect to find in a parcel from a café?” Joe defended himself. “The complete works of William Shakespeare?”
“You could have nipped next door and bought a toy car or something, Uncle Joe,” Cheryl suggested. “I know that means spending money, but…”
“I did spend money,” Joe argued. “Where do you think I got the wrapping paper and sellotape? And the pie didn’t come free, you know.”
“No, but the price has gone up since September,” Lee reminded him. “Never mind, Uncle Joe. You had the right idea.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to a merry Christmas.”
Everyone raised their glasses; even Joe, but his was the dissenting voice in the toast.
“Here’s to an inexpensive Christmas.”
Always Writing
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