All Posts by Bill

Apart from irregular visits by my brother Ron, the blog hasn’t often heard different voices and I want to change that. I’ve asked writer friends for contributions and the first to respond is Myra Duffy. I know that Myra’s been writing ever since she was very young. In fact, her first publication appeared while she was still in her early teens. She’s a successful writer of non-fiction articles and books, but her preference has always been for fiction. In recent years, she’s had plenty of short stories published but her real love is the novel and she’s produced a series of cosy crimes/mysteries set on the Isle of Bute, just off the West coast of Scotland.

So, Myra, you happen to have chosen one of my favourite places in the world to write about – the West coast, I mean, although I haven’t yet visited the island itself. Why did you choose it as your setting?

We’ve had a family holiday home on Bute for many years and know the island well. The setting gives me the benefit of a location that has strong associations for people in the West of Scotland (many of whom spent childhood holidays on Bute) and indeed people of Scottish descent throughout the world. In a small place you have a closed community and lots of opportunities for local gossip and intrigues to move the plot along.

I should say that the island isn’t the hotbed of crime my novels suggest. In fact there is very little crime and it’s a beautiful place with lots of unspoiled beaches and excellent walking. A lot of money is being spent on upgrading facilities, including the Art Deco Pavilion where my most recent book Last Dance at the Rothesay Pavilion  is set.

 So you’re in the great tradition of the Midsomer Murders or Miss Marple – mayhem and multiple homicides in an apparently gentle, beautiful setting. What’s the attraction of the ‘cosy’ genre for you?

As a reader of all kinds of crime novels, the main interest for me has always been the puzzle – who was the culprit and why. In ‘cosy crime’ the sleuth is usually an amateur whose education/life experiences have equipped him or her with various skills and the story is intended as a ‘fun read’ that engages the mind.

There’s no graphic violence or sex and there are plenty of red herrings in the plot.

If you enjoy crossword puzzles, you probably enjoy ‘cosy crime’.

OK, tell us a bit about the main character in the series.

That’s Alison Cameron, who might well be a neighbour. She’s an ordinary woman who becomes involved in the various crimes/mysteries by chance. I like to use ‘outsiders’ as the main protagonists. The interplay between these characters and those who live on the island helps the dynamics of the novel, though I’m very careful not to use real people in the plot.

I think one of the things that comes through very clearly in the writing is the feelings you have for the place and the community there. So far, there have been three in the series: The House at Ettrick Bay, Last Ferry to Bute and now Last Dance at the Rothesay Pavilion. I hope you’re not stopping there. Any more planned?

Yes, my work-in-progress is called Endgame at Port Bannatyne. Alison has been appointed assistant scriptwriter for a film being made on the island, but of course nothing goes according to plan, not even for the writer at this stage! I’m hoping this novel will be available by the summer.

I know your readers will be glad to hear that and I’m guessing that while you continue to enjoy revisiting the place and the people through your fiction the books will keep coming. Unless you’ve got plans for trying a different genre – have you?

Like most writers, I’ve all kinds of novels half-written and yes, I’d like to do something different at some stage. At the moment though, I’m kept busy with Alison and her problems!

I look forward to reading how you help her to solve them. Thanks for visiting, Myra.

You can read more about Myra at  her website  and on her blog.

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Before getting to the main point, a little aside about the devaluation of words. First, nowadays there should be a charge levied on using the work ‘like’. I’m not referring to the absurdity of the ‘like’ feature on Facebook, where you’re invited to ‘like’ the fact that someone’s just announced a tragic bereavement or relayed some depressing news about a scary medical diagnosis. No, it’s the superfluous ‘like’ that peppers the conversations of … well, it used to be the younger generation but now the celebs and others whom they revere seem to be using it in a similar way.

I say ‘using it’ but it’s not being used at all, because it means nothing in the contexts in which they put it. ‘And she’s like “So?” And I’m like “No Way”.’ They need to like insert it whenever they’re trying to sound like cool. Add to it the lifting inflections at the end of sentences (the horrible, whining sound of rising terminals) and you have excruciating, unbearable dialogue.

I’ll explain later why I started with that old fogey rant, but you may well not need me to when I tell you that my topic is the website Awesome Indies.

We all know that it’s easier to publish ebooks and paperbacks nowadays and that, as a result, readers have access to many excellent novels which traditional publishers wouldn’t have been able to fit into their commercially-driven categories. Equally, though, it’s failed to filter out lots of stuff which is either badly written or has been badly formatted and never been assessed by a decent editor. Unfortunately, thanks to all the proud grannies and others who willingly give 5 stars to anything with their grandchild’s name on it, the unsuspecting reader has no way of separating the gems from the garbage. The author’s blurb is always going to (like) big up the book and the only real indicators left as to a book’s quality are word of mouth recommendations and/or objective reviews which say more than ‘This is great’.

Which is where Awesome Indies comes in. It’s a site which, in the words of its administrator, ‘lists Indie books that have the tick of approval from other writers, a tick that tells me that no matter whether I like the subject matter or not, the book is well written, a tick that tells me that I won’t throw the book across the room shouting in frustration, “why didn’t the author hire an editor!”’ The aim is to draw up ‘a list of books that I and other authors and editors can unreservedly recommend. My idea is to honour the Indie authors who produce a high quality product and to direct readers towards the Indie Gold that lies hidden amongst the avalanche of available books.’ You’re then invited to ‘consider this [i.e. the list] your treasure map’.

And you’ll probably guess why I’m featuring it here. Yes, it’s the Sparrow again. It’s a recent addition to the list of Awesome Indies.  And I assume that the reason for my opening rant is obvious. Yes, it’s that word ‘awesome’, another which is used so indiscriminately that it’s lost a lot of its power. We can’t do anything about that but, at least, when you see the status of the reviewers and the insistence on excluding any book which doesn’t meet their exacting professional standards, it does seem that in this instance (for a change), the adjective is legitimate. Have a look at the site, send them your own work and, most of all, as a reader, use it to help you choose books that treat you with respect..

My thanks to everyone who voted for The Sparrow Conundrum. This is how the news of it winning its second award, the Readers’ Choice Award for Humor and Satire, was greeted by those most closely associated with it.

Tessa was busy investigating the latest batch of agents who’d been found bloodless in graveyards with two puncture wounds in their necks. She found vampires as believable as politicians so she suspected this was a twisted April Fool’s stunt. When the phone rang she grabbed it and barked a curt ‘What?’ into it.

‘Tessa?’ The caller was tentative.

‘Yes, who’s that?’

‘Chris. Chris Machin.’ Then, with an embarrassed chuckle, ‘Sparrow. You remember?’

How could she forget?

‘What d’you want Chris? I’m busy.’

‘Ah, you haven’t heard then?’

‘Don’t piss me about. Heard what?’

‘The book. It’s won the Readers’ Choice Award for Humor and Satire.’

‘Oh great,’ said Tessa. ‘Terrific.’

Her tone was heavily ironic.

‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ said Machin.

‘Why? Because some hack has had his ego massaged for distorting the facts about our line of business? Just think for a minute, Chris. It’s OK for you. You’re a teacher. Nobody knows you exist. But what about me? I’m supposed to be involved in clandestine activities. With all the media attention we’ll be getting now, that’s me well and truly buggered, isn’t it?’

A scream from the outer office made her jump. It was followed by the sound of wood splintering as heavy boots kicked at her door until it was hanging from its hinges and a terrifying figure stepped through it. In its left hand was a red wig. Tessa recognised it as belonging to her secretary, Barbara, whose struggles with shampoos and conditioners were constantly being chronicled by lifestyle advisers in various magazines.

‘Chief Inspector Lodgedale. What a pleasant surprise,’ said Tessa.

She pointed at the wig.

‘I take it Barbara did something to incur your displeasure,’ she added.

‘Shut it,’ said the policeman, throwing the wig to the floor and taking from his pocket an Oxo-sized lump of cannabis resin wrapped in cling film.

‘Ah, no need for that,’ said Tessa. ‘I already have some in my drawer here.’

As well as tangling with him during the adventures recorded in The Sparrow Conundrum, Tessa had had this beast of the constabulary under surveillance ever since he’d arrived back from Russia, sent home by bosses in the Lubyanka who’d found his treatment of prisoners too harsh. Her agents had watched him planting drugs and condoms in nunneries, arresting shoppers who were walking too slowly and subduing pedestrians before they even had time to provoke him.

She put down the phone. The moment Machin had heard the name Lodgedale he’d begun to cry and hung up.

‘Can I help you with your enquiries?’ she said.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Lodgedale, bafflingly.

‘Indeed,’ said Tessa. ‘And will you be using your new water-boarding facility to do so?’

Lodgedale had indeed had such a facility added to the suite of offices he’d demanded in his new role in Aberdeen’s anti-terrorist organisation.

‘Because, if I may say so,’ Tessa went on, ‘the media interest in the recently-awarded Readers’ Choice accolade might misinterpret its significance.’

Lodgedale’s usual response to words he couldn’t understand was to assault the speaker but he was wary of Tessa. She had access to wrestlers who bit lumps out of teak.

‘What’re you on about?’ he said.

Tessa saw at once how she could get rid of him.

‘Ah, you haven’t heard then,’ she said. ‘I had a call from Chris Machin. Remember him?’

The anger that flushed up through his face as he heard the name made her question redundant.

‘You know, Sparrow,’ she said.

‘I know bloody Sparrow,’ said Lodgedale. ‘A good pluck, that’s what he wants.’

‘Well, you’ll be pleased to hear you can go and give him one. He’s at home right now, celebrating the award.’

‘What award?’

‘Better ask Chris. All I know is the media will no doubt want to ask you about your interpretation of the term “justice” and your predilection for applied sadism will come under close scrutiny.’

‘Bloody Sparrow again,’ yelled Lodgedale.

Tessa scribbled on a Post-It note.

‘Here’s his address,’ she said.

Lodgedale hesitated, then grabbed the paper and stamped out. As Barbara began to scream again, Tessa sighed and reached for the phone. Her bearded boss, Mary, needed to know about this.

 

 

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