Over the last few months, I’ve put a lot of effort into my novel Children of Solus. I’ve also thrown a lot of time into a handful of short stories, one of which I submitted to Ether Books, and the other which might just be too insane to ever show to the public eye. I even pounded out two flash fiction stories within the same realm as the Children Of Solus saga.
I find that I need to break up my attention. Not in a completely procrastinating fashion, but in a way that I can keep my mind fresh. If I sat down and spent every waking moment on my novel, I would wear myself out. My writing would suffer. Instead, when I break off and accomplish a few low impact projects on the side, I’m able to come back to my massive undertaking fresh and enthused, often with a different perspective on things.
So what’s my latest distraction? It’s still a concept, but for the moment we’ll call it Five After Midnight. The original idea behind it was a short story, delving into a woman’s thoughts over a certain tragic event. An emotional, introspective tale, like I seem to write all too often. As I began writing it though, my entire viewpoint shifted.
What is it now? Well it’s only about two pages long (big ol’ Word pages, but still), but at the moment it’s looking to be a continuing serial following the character Peter Chase, a private investigator working on a dead end case in New York. I won’t give too much away, but the serial will be set in the late 70’s and will be completely free to read. The installments will likely be posted here, so check in often!
Interested? It’s classic, a little cliche, and a genre that’s been beaten into the ground, but to hell with all of that. There’s nothing like a good old murder mystery. Here’s an excerpt from the working first installment!
A man died on November the 16th. Winter hung upon the earth with its subtle malevolence, grass and sapling alike fell into peaceful hibernation, the sky acceded to the icy invasion. They cordoned off an entire acre of Central Park in the morning. Why? Robert Pennington wrenched himself from life’s grip a little after midnight between a pair of looming oaks, cold and alone…
Or so they think.
I pressed the soles of my wingtips against the edge of my desk, leaning back and letting out a smoldering plume from between my lips. My eyes shut as I took another drag, swirling the thoughts around in my head, mixed with scotch and nicotine. The habit was going to kill me—I knew that—but the idea sounded so hollow every time I looked down at a bloated corpse fished out of the river, or some kid face down on the concrete with a bullet in his back. Cigarettes didn’t put them in their early graves; who am I to argue with that logic?
Ringing snapped me from my reflection. The phone. I dropped my feet to the floor and plucked the receiver from its base. The coiling cord stretched out to me as I brought the speaker to my ear. I knew who it would be before I answered.
“Chase, I’ve been paging you for the last hour and a half! Where have you been?” The man on the line said.
Stay tuned for the full installment. (AKA, follow me!)