Still Kicking, Still Killing (on the Page)

Dear friends and fellow thrill-seekers,

Book marketers swarm like maggots on a carcass. But I’m not dead yet. The problem isn’t that they exist—the world is full of necessary evils—but that readers are left paying the price for these literary snake oil peddlers. There has to be another way. So here I am, not with a marketing campaign, but with an honest update.

My addiction has worsened. Writing, that is. “The Triumvirate Murders – Death as a Business Expense” has now passed 20,000 words. I should be worried, but I’m too busy enjoying the ride. Characters, old and new, have taken over my head. They walk into my life like old friends who never left. They talk to me more than my friends, and I confess—sometimes I prefer their company. If I could choose, I’d do nothing but write. The rest of life can go to hell.

Here’s the twist: this third novel is darker—and funnier. Murder is still my method of choice for confronting fear, doubt, and suppressed rage. But this time the story has broken free from the small-town cultural in-crowd and climbed into the upper floors of Europe’s business elite. The stakes? Higher. The danger? Deadlier. The satire? Sharper. Imagine Agatha Christie had dinner with George Carlin, and they both hated their food.

Stay tuned. I’m still writing, still laughing at the darkness, still swinging. If all goes to plan, this year will see not one, not two, but three of my novels unleashed into the world. Not bad for an old fart.

Yours in crime (fiction),