Me – I fly by the seat of my pants. I really do have no
clue of where things are heading until they get there. I find things out as and
when my characters do. And sometimes I have to think my way around an idea for
quite some time, pass it from hand to hand and look for the opening.
So it is with this latest novel. The third of the trilogy
that will bring Michael’s story to a conclusion. It wasn't something I was
planning to write at all, but people who have read Hamelin's Child and Paying
The Piper have said they want to know what happens to Michael and whether
he makes any sense out of his life. Well, I don’t do walking-off-into-the-sunset style happy endings, but I do have some
Ideas.
So, since this appears to be a crowd-sourced novel, let’s
start with a title. Following the theme so far, I was thinking of something
along the lines of Calling The Tune.
Or A Different Tune. Any other ideas
or suggestions would be most welcome…
The funny thing is, I was mulling over the first 8,000
words so far and trying to think who or what Michael is going to be fighting against
this time around. I can’t just rehash the same old story – that’s cheating and
I don’t write like that. So it has to be something new, something relevant,
something that ties in the unanswered questions from the first two books (Who
exactly is Jackson working for? Who wants Michael so badly and why?). And then
in the opening chapter of this 3rd book, Michael sees Eddie across
the courtroom and Eddie smiles at him and I’m wondering what it is exactly that
he knows. And I’m remembering a
throwaway comment from Hamelin and
only now realising its significance. Isn’t the subconscious a wonderful thing?
Here’s a draft snippet from the scene…
And there he was.
Eddie. The first time he’d seen him since the day the drug squad had busted
through the door in the flat over a year ago, when he’d woken up with Lee to a
room full of police. More than a year fell away in seconds and he just couldn’t
tear his eyes away. The man looked no different – still the same blond hair and
a smug expression on his face as if he knew exactly how all this was going to
play out.
Somebody coughed.
The spell broke and he glanced around the courtroom. His dad was in the back of
the gallery with his sister Kate. Twelve jurors stared at him like he was some
kind of museum exhibit and even the judge was watching him.
You can do this,
Redford. You can. He was not going to let them win. He looked back at Eddie.
The man met his eyes and smiled.