Writer’s Life

Silly Sunday – Spamalot

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When I was a child, spam was a food product that I did not like, a moulded block of pink meat extricated from a tin with a key and a good chance of lacerating fingers. Our relationship with digital SPAM is probably very similar.

A folder was, for many centuries, a sturdy cardboard stationery item for keeping collecting endless sheets of paper and it still is Chez Tidalscribe.

Put together meat and cardboard and you have a Spam Folder. In my first forays into life on line I wondered what it was and why people were told to check them. It was a long time before I even knew we had spam folders on WordPress. Reading spam comments usually explains why WordPress has blocked them from arriving at our precious blogs, though sometimes the intelligent and welcome comments of real bloggers wash up there.

Who are the strange beings that send these weird comments and why. AI creations that have escaped? But what if they are real human beings reaching out to engage with us? Should we respond? What would we say. Here are some I replied to…

‘Going shopping with my girlfriend, I feel very bored. I usually read this blog so I don’t get bored.’

 A lot of people will sympathise with your shopping experience, I’m so glad my blog prevented boredom instead of causing it.

‘when me adn may friend go to bali me look so many things there are cute and i not forget to read your good blog everyday thankyo’

Thanks indeed, I expect all my followers to read my blogs every day, however fantastic their holiday.

‘I have a boyfriend who likes reading blogs, I see he often reads this blog, but he is no longer there, I was curious about what was on this blog, it turns out there is a lot of knowledge that I can get.’

 Yes my blog is so good it can even make boyfriends disappear.

‘When I came home from watching the concert I couldn’t sleep, I read an article on this website, I fell asleep and woke up with meaningful inspiration thanks to reading this blog.’

Yes reading my website makes most readers fall asleep.

‘2 days ago I decided to go to Vietnam, I got drunk and met a girl from there, when we were both in the room, I suddenly got bored, I read this blog, I got a lot of inspiration‘

 I hope you were inspired to avoid alcohol on holiday.

Yesterday I went to China, waiting for my plane to depart, I took the time to read this blog, this will be very useful for many people who read it.

 My blog is especially useful for passengers who have long delays at airports.

My friends and I always visit museums with various classy monuments which are very beautiful. I see them all on your very good blog.

Thanks, I have endeavoured to fill my blogs with monuments from all round the world.

Every day I always have breakfast before going to school, but when I eat I feel like something is missing, that’s when I visit this blog to accompany me while eating so that I feel comfortable.

I am impressed that you start your school day in the perfect way.

What are your favourite comments in your spam folder?

Fun Friday

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When you open the instructions and put them straight back in the box...

When you bump into someone you didn’t want to meet at the supermarket.

When you like to break the law.

When you buy your new house at Ikea

When your fiction comes true…

When vegans paint still life.

When your cake mix order from Amazon goes wrong.

When your hobbies know no limits.

Wednesday Words – Widows on WhatsApp

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Anne   last seen today 10.54

Sorry missed your message earlier, what a day, has Poppy recovered?

Book Worms

Yup, done the library survey, haven’t read the book yet, might be late Friday, blood test.

Anne    last seen today 15.33

That’s a relief, no stitches then? What sort was the other dog?

Cousin Chat

Oh what a wonderful place, pity you only had three hours ashore. Not surprised you got lost with 3,500 on board. So did you find out how he died? Sounds like a scene from one of your novels.

Cousin Chat

Natural causes, never mind, probably be another SD before your seven weeks are up. Bit of a waste getting the helicopter out to the Antarctic.

Family Forum

If I suddenly drop dead I promised Linda the plant in the dining room. The individual lemon cheesecakes in the fridge were on special offer, in case you look in the fridge and think I’m greedy.

Family Forum

No, I’m feeling fine, just testing to see if I get any response. Going to live to a hundred to annoy you all. But just in case there’s a new felt pen under the fridge and brand new secateurs in the garden, really annoyed to lose those. List of lost items getting quite long, treasure hunt for you all when I’m gone.

Anne   last seen today 16.43

It cost that much? Good thing you had insurance. Would never have imagined a Pomeranian could cause so much damage. Which reminds me, I was round next door and she had spotted a big mouse in the back garden, worried Tilly would catch it… at that very moment Tilly emerged from the flower bed triumphantly shaking her head with the dead mouse clamped in her delicate jaws! Now she’s upset her miniature dachshund is a murderer!

Polly  last seen today 16.53

Don’t worry too much, perhaps it would be better if you didn’t look at your fitwatchthingy.

Polly last seen today   17.05

What should your resting heart rate be?

Lizzie  last seen today 17.23

Oh no, did you call 111? Where’s Tom?

Lizzie last seen  today 17.25

I forgot he was away, I’m sure you’ll manage fine. I had to cope with four of you when Dad was away.

Jack     last seen today 17.27

Okay, Facetime on Sunday.

Polly   last seen today 17.53

What a catastrophe, Pyrex does shatter in a thousand pieces. Have you got any spare dinners in the freezer?

Polly   on line 17.59

Not surprised your heart rate has gone up. Bare feet? Oh dear, my mother used to tell this story about getting a sliver of glass in her foot, then years later her finger swelled up and the splinter popped out! Or was it the other way round, anyway, it didn’t do her any harm.

Jack   last seen today 18.53

Don’t forget we’re six hours ahead now its BST.

Magic Pen  19.00

What was the homework?

Magic Pen   19.01

You don’t remember either Jill

Magic Pen   19.03

Won’t you, that’s a pity. Don’t worry, everybody has stents put in these days.

Sally    last seen today 19.10

Well done, can’t wait to see the pictures, great way to celebrate your seventieth and you really made it to the top, with Ron’s ashes!

Family Forum     19.30

Big news, your uncle has booked his holiday.

Family Forum   19.46

No he’s staying in a hotel than goodness. Yes we are ALL going to meet up with him. Yes I do remember he never bought you as much as an ice cream, his mind was on higher things.

Family Forum    19.50

Must be thirty years, no I’m sure he hasn’t been thrown out of the monastery, perhaps it’s his health, don’t suppose health care is good on his remote Tibetan mountain.

Magic Pen   20.08

 Thanks Dave   ‘Imagine a What’sAp conversation’ …  How on earth am I going to write that?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Meaningless

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Sean sat staring at the blank screen. This week’s challenge for the Poison Pen Writers was to write a story without meaning. Now he was regretting being the one to suggest it. There had been much philosophical discussion at last week’s meeting, could there ever be a story with no meaning at all?

He could write a story about himself; as far as he could tell, his life had no meaning, but that would be a very dull story.

Poison Pen Writers was a cutting edge group that met in a crumbling old hall the council were trying to demolish. They had been expelled from the library before Sean’s time when Jago had forgotten to take his medication. Sean  could well imagine that some members could be easily misunderstood, most of them were rather odd, but they were all very interesting and amusing. Sean was the only boring one and he took a vicarious pleasure from their chaotic and adventurous lives, past and present.

The screen was still empty as his mind wandered over the past year with the group. He forced himself to type.

John woke up to another day, at least he assumed it was another day as he was in his bed and sunlight streamed through the curtains.

As he dipped his toast into the soft fried egg, it reminded him of nothing at all.

On the bus to work he looked at the other passengers, they did not look at him.

As he walked into the large office building he heard a voice call ‘Hey John’ but it was a woman hailing someone else called John.

At his desk he logged on to the computer.

As he logged off the computer he wondered where the day had gone.

‘What are you doing this evening?’ asked a colleague.

‘Nothing’ he replied.

‘Nor me.’

On the way home he looked out of the bus window, but it was raining hard so he couldn’t see anything. He looked at his phone, it was Tuesday, so he would stop off at the fish and chip shop.

As he walked into Harry’s Plaice Harry greeted him. ‘Evening, usual?’

‘Yup.’

‘Good day at work?’

‘Same as usual.’

That night John got into bed, another day over.

Sean glanced through what he had written, then added the title Meaningless. Hopefully it was, he pressed Print.

Friday Fiction Focus – Lottie’s Tale

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Charlotte stared at the computer screen, her novel was not going well. Having ventured back to the Hambourne Happy Creatives writing group she had succeeded in confusing them with Lottie Lincoln’s latest mishaps in Puddleminster-on-Sea. There had been comments such as ‘So what happened to the head?’

She had made life too complicated for Lottie and hadn’t really settled on which event should set her hapless heroine on the path of reluctant crime investigator. Perhaps she could round off the body parts story on a lighter note, introduce a dog…

A week later Lottie decided she must get back to her morning beach walks. Puddleminster was returning to normal, the police had finished searching everywhere and locals were unlikely to learn what really happened until the trial started, which could be many months away.

As she took in the fresh sea air and observed the near empty beach, she was caught off guard by a large dog bounding up with a huge stick in its mouth. For a moment she did not recognise the owner as he stumbled over the sand to apologise.

‘So sorry, oh it’s you Lottie, er Mrs Lincoln.’

‘Sorry I didn’t recognise you with a dog.’

Once again she was face to face with Doctor Geoff Good, the pathologist now famous for losing a body from the hospital mortuary. What should she say?

‘Is he your dog?’

‘No, friends gone on holiday to Australia. I volunteered to look after him while I’m suspended, at least I’ll look less suspicious out with a dog next time I’m caught on CCTV.’

‘Oh dear, will you get your job back?’

‘Yes, otherwise the bodies will be mounting up! Just required procedure, our department under special measures…  Hey, clever you, right about there being no murder and my technician taking a body to create a forensic drama. Obviously completely insane, he had the head at his flat, kept as a souvenir!’

‘Goodness, they kept that out of the news.’

‘I only knew because I overheard them talking when I was on one of my many visits to the police station. Hmm, forget I told you that.’

Lottie felt a thrill at being entrusted with secret information and besides she didn’t know anyone to gossip with yet.

‘But the point is he passed all the usual checks, no criminal record, no record of anything untoward. He knew the entry codes because he worked there and had security clearance. No CCTV in the mortuary as we don’t expect bodies to try and escape. He must have slipped in during the night. Oh by the way, it turns out my wife loves your novels, read all of them, in fact she’s rereading them for gentle escapism after all this business. She wants to know if you are writing a new one.’

‘I have writers’ block, I thought a quiet life at the seaside would inspire a new story after my husband died suddenly.’

‘Oh sorry, I didn’t realise.’

‘No of course you couldn’t know. I was just reading in the newspaper an article on being widowed and it said don’t make hasty decisions such as moving house or getting a dog; I had just been wondering if I should get a puppy or a rescue dog…’

Charlotte wondered what could have caused Lottie’s husband’s sudden demise, something dramatic for a darkly humorous novel, a piece of space station crashing on him, had she read in the paper about a chunk of space debris plunging through someone’s roof? Or something closer to home, Lottie and Callum probably lived in London, he was trampled by bolting cavalry horses, that would be tragically unexpected.…

 Children or other family? No, that’s why Lottie and Callum were so close and now poor Lottie was truly on her own, except of course for all her writer and arty friends in London; she was after all a very successful author, well popular and best selling, not in the upper echelons of the literati, but certainly far more successful than Charlotte.

Now she just had to think what Lottie was going to do next…

Tuesday Tale – Strange Endings

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Tuesday Tiny Tale -Mortuary Mystery
Today’s story is the final part of strange events in Puddleminster-on-Sea and follows on from Mortuary Mystery. Lottie Lincoln has returned to the police station.

‘It was the day before yesterday, or was it the day before that? I know it wasn’t raining. Anyway, the point is, I did not know the man in the CCTV photos at all, only to say hello to, nodding acquaintances, no idea what his name was. I always walk down to the sea past the Queen Victoria Memorial Park, early and he always walks past me on his way home with his newspaper, at least I assume that is what he is doing. Well we did before all those body parts were found.’

Lottie looked across the table at the young CID chap sent to interview her. She obviously wasn’t interesting enough to warrant two officers, good cop, bad cop and far from interrogating her, he had not asked her a single question yet.

DC Dan Berk looked across at the woman who had turned up at the police station and wondered how to get a word in edgeways.

‘Sorry, what did you say your name was?’

‘I didn’t, Lottie Lincoln, the author? You probably don’t read my novels, I expect you prefer dark crime.’

‘Okay Lottie, can we start again at the beginning. What is your real name?’

‘That is my real name.’

‘’Okay, so Lottie, Mrs Lincoln, you go for a walk every morning and say hello to complete strangers.’

‘Yes, I thought that’s what people did at the seaside, relaxed way of life, everything jolly, well perhaps not if you’re always finding body parts. Anyway the point is, I am innocent and so is the man.’

‘If he is a complete stranger, how would you know if he was a murderer or not?’

‘I am a writer, I observe people, I have an instinct.’

‘Well thank you for coming forward to help us with our enquiries. I just need to ask you a few questions about yourself. How long have you lived in Puddleminster?’

‘A few weeks.’

‘Do you live alone?’

‘I was widowed.’

‘I see.’

‘Very recently.’

‘Oh sorry.’

‘Very suddenly.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, did you and your late husband have a connection with this area?’

‘None at all, I wanted to go somewhere quiet where I wasn’t known, a little place rather like the villages in my cosy novels.’

‘So if you could give me your current and previous address and a few other details. We will do a few checks, but it is unlikely we will need to see you again. Thank you for coming and I hope we haven’t put you to too much trouble, goodbye.’

‘Wait, wait, there’s something I have to confess, just in case I have been caught on CCTV again. I bumped into him just now, the man, when he was leaving the police station. So you think the body was kept in a fridge and he works at the mortuary, but that doesn’t make him guilty. Others work there, in fact it might not even be a murder, a theft of a corpse, he’s got that assistant that’s obsessed with forensics…’

Lottie did not like the frown on his face, perhaps she was talking too much. How long since she had had a good natter in her new life? She was beginning to realise what it must have been like during Covid for people living by themselves. Lottie and Callum had been self contained, they missed going out, but they were not lonely. Now she not only missed him, but her busy life and her friends; perhaps peaceful and quiet was not such a good idea… she realised the chap was talking to her.

‘Mrs Lincoln, this is out of order. We have not released any more information yet or talked to anybody else. I trust you won’t go on social media or start speculating in the local community.’

Late that night Doctor Geoff Good was back inside the police station for questioning and a detective inspector from head office had arrived, he frowned at the small team gathered in the tiny office.

‘To summarise so far, the body of John James Smith is missing from his drawer at the hospital mortuary. Doctor Geoff Good the pathologist claims to be astonished and cannot offer any explanation as to how a body could escape his well run mortuary. His new assistant has just gone on annual leave and we have no idea where, but he doesn’t appear to be at his flat in Puddleminster. John Smith died of natural causes, a post mortem was not planned and no DNA samples had been taken, as his large loving family knew who he was. He was awaiting collection by the undertaker tomorrow who would be preparing for a family viewing. A situation that could not be worse. We have no proof that the remains in the park are his, if they are what do we tell the family. If they are not his, where the hell is his body? Oh yes it could be worse, your team has failed to find a head.’

The mortuary is locked and off limits to all hospital staff. We have no option, but to have the whole hospital searched in case the body has been hidden there. I will be going to speak to management. Sergeant, you will visit the undertaker first thing in the morning and explain why they will not be collecting the body yet. Constable Berk, it is your unenviable task to visit the family of Mr Smith and inform them with the briefest details what has happened. I suggest you imply he is still within the hospital, but you have to also persuade them to provide DNA samples. At first light a team of officers and the forensic team will carry out a methodical search of the whole of Puddleminster. I’m sure you appreciate the need to keep all details out of the press and off social media, but that won’t be easy.

A week later Lottie sat glued to the local news as she did several times a day. She had not been near the sea, Puddleminster was overrun with police search teams. At the shops she tried to glean local gossip and there was plenty of that; satanic rites, multiple bodies unearthed everywhere and a serial killer on the loose. She wondered about poor Doctor Good. Every news bulletin a police officer of increasingly high rank would be urging the public not to speculate and assuring them there was no danger to the public. Then at last that evening there was news. A serious looking policewoman with lots of badges on her epaulettes, was standing outside the hospital.

‘We have today arrested a mortuary technician from this hospital and charged him with preventing the lawful and decent burial of a body.  I can confirm no other individuals were involved and our enquiries are now complete. The family of the deceased have asked for privacy at this time.’

Of course that was not the end. On breakfast television the next day Lottie watched as the son and daughters of John Smith were interviewed.

‘We want to know how this happened to our Dad.’

They had obviously waived the right to privacy and Lottie guessed poor Doctor Good would be in for more vigorous investigation by the media. Would Puddleminster-on-Sea ever be the quiet place she had hoped for? But she couldn’t help smugly thinking she had been the first to guess what had happened.

Happy Birthday William Shakespeare – 1564

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It is also Saint George’s Day, but a saint that doesn’t mean much to us. Whereas William, even with his imagination, could not have predicted how many millions of people would be seeing his plays, saying his sayings and coming to visit his home town. He would probably not have liked what we did to his wonderful language, but living languages change all the time. He was also not responsible for the ways in which English has been spread around the world, but with the negatives come the positives. Around the world bilingual and multilingual folk can communicate with a common language and if we only speak English we must applaud them for learning and talking to us. No doubt Shakespeare would have his own blog and smart phone if they had been around then.

Tuesday Tiny Tale -Mortuary Mystery

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Tuesday Tiny Tale – Closed Circuit
This evening’s tiny tale follows on from last week when Geoff was arrested as a murder suspect.

Geoff Good was alone in the interview room at Puddleminster Police Station. It had been on the local news about body parts being found in Queen Victoria Memorial Park, that’s why he had joked that as a pathologist at the hospital he did post mortems on deceased patients and did not chop up bodies. He did not expect them to use that as evidence of guilt.

The two CID officers came back in with a cup of tea, he assumed they were going to apologise for wrongful arrest and give him a lift home.

‘Doctor Good, we have some important questions to ask you with regard to your work, now new evidence has come to light.’

What on earth could they mean, had they found mortuary instruments lying in the park, no they were all present and correct when he left work yesterday. Was the victim someone he knew? Unlikely they would have identified the body so soon, you couldn’t even tell by tattoos these days, everyone had them.

‘You must have spoken to the woman in the CCTV picture, I saw her coming into the police station.’

‘No one has come forward to help with our enquiries.’

‘We know the victim was already dead when he was dismembered,’ chipped in the smug DC chap ‘very dead.’

‘That’s a relief, I mean for the victim.’

‘Dead for a while, but not decomposed, our forensic team have established the corpse had been kept somewhere cold.’

Geoff remained silent, he did not like where this was leading, but surely they did not think he regularly murdered people and kept them at the mortuary? Every body arrived or left the mortuary properly identified and recorded.

They stared at him, he tried to look them in the eye and not appear nervous or guilty. A thought came to him which he tried to dismiss. His new assistant did not disguise his ambition to get involved in proper forensics, not the boring bodies they dealt with at the hospital. He watched all the CSI programmes Geoff’s wife loved, but being fascinated with murder did not make him a murderer. Besides, he could not have hidden a spare body, all the drawers were occupied at present.

‘Did you wish to call your solicitor Doctor Good?’

How did things get to this stage already. He did not have a solicitor, only the school boy who had dealt with his great uncle’s will, or the local chap who had done the conveyancing for their house twenty years ago, probably retired by now.

‘No, I do not need a solicitor.’

Suddenly the DS brightened up. ‘We will be getting a warrant to search the mortuary, accompanied by your good self. In the meantime you are free to leave now as a person of interest. You may go home, but do not go to work and make sure we can contact you at any time.’

Geoff walked down the road in a daze, years of clinical and logical thinking did not help him process what was happening. He almost bumped into her, the woman from the picture. She recoiled and he automatically put his hands in the air. They both started to speak at once.

‘Sorry, sorry, I’m not a murderer.’

‘Sorry, nor am I didn’t mean to react like that.’

‘I don’t even know your name.’

‘I’m on my way to the police station to explain, I chickened out the first time. This is a nightmare.’

‘I’m so sorry you got involved.’

‘No I’m sorry, Lottie, Lottie Lincoln the novelist.’

‘Erm, I don’t read novels, Geoff Good, pathologist.’

‘Goodness, how interesting, life is stranger than fiction for sure.’

They both automatically looked around for hidden CCTV cameras.

‘Are we allowed to talk to each other?’

‘We both have a reason for walking down this road, I’ll be quick and tell you my situation. They seem to think I could have murdered and hidden the body in the mortuary, because it had been kept somewhere very cold, ridiculous of course, but at least they can’t possibly think you were involved.’

‘Do you have assistants?’

‘They are not murderers either, though the new one’s totally obsessed with forensics and CSI dramas. Oh, do you write dark crime novels, they’re all women writers.’

‘Indeed not, life affirming stories, family dramas, but I can see a story in this situation.’ Her eyes lit up.  ‘Perhaps no murder was committed, your assistant wanted to see a bit of drama so borrowed a body, chopped it up and created a fake crime scene. He would not be suspected, no blood soaked clothing and all that. Anyway, I had better get to the police station, good luck.’

The mortuary was empty of live persons when Geoff was escorted in by a team of plain clothed and uniformed officers. The person they had to show the warrant to was Geoff himself. It seemed the rest of the hospital was unaware of the mortuary drama. Had anyone even noticed Geoff’s absence? There obviously had been no deaths at the hospital in the past twenty four hours and he recalled the new assistant was starting some annual leave.

 No bodies on the slabs, pity, Geoff would have enjoyed making them feel queasy. He showed them all the computer and written records, then opened each labelled drawer one by one, assuring them it was a full house this week.

‘Everyone sleeping peacefully’ he joked nervously as they reached the last drawer.

The last drawer was empty, the name still on the front of the drawer, John James Smith.

Tuesday Tiny Tale 800 – CCTV

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She didn’t even know his name, but there they were on the local news as the couple sought after by police to help with their enquiries. Lottie Lincoln, new in Puddleminster-on-Sea, hadn’t imagined the little town even had CCTV. The recently widowed writer had moved here for peace and quiet and anonymity.

Lottie walked past Queen Victoria Memorial Park every morning on her way to the beach. The locals were friendly and the man was one of several regulars who passed her and smiled or said good morning. She had no idea when the picture might have been taken, most mornings she had the same coat on. Though the picture had now faded from the television screen it was imprinted on her mind, two strangers exchanging a smile on a sunny morning looked like a couple exchanging intimate words.

No one was walking past Queen Victoria Memorial Park now, the whole area cordoned off by police tape, including the adjoining sea front. Lottie had been shocked to hear on the local news that a murder had been committed in the lovely park full of daffodils. Or at least body parts had been found, presumably the murder could have been committed anywhere. Police were not revealing how many or what sort of body parts. Surely they did not think she had been carrying a foot or hand in her back pack? The man never carried anything except a newspaper. Men were lucky with all their pockets and these days the chaps probably only carried a phone and door keys. If this man was married he might not even need his keys. Married… if his wife saw that picture she might assume the worst, an affair… an affair with a younger woman. Lottie guessed he was older than her and was rather insulted to have it assumed they were a couple.

None of this was like one of her novels; crime and forensics were avoided, though she did fancy writing a psychological drama. How would the lives of innocent people be affected by a terrible crime? But this was real life and what should she do now? Would the man go to the police station, did they mention a number to ring?

Time for her walk, she needed to get out in the fresh air to think, walking was her therapy for any stressful situation. Lottie set off to the little parade of shops and cafes that passed for a town centre; she could at least see if the weekly local paper had caught the news in time. Somehow her feet led her to the quaint old police station. She wasn’t even sure if it would be open to the public with all those cut backs, but now she was here she must try. The feisty heroines in her novels would not hesitate, though they usually only had romantic problems to deal with.

As she mounted the stone steps to the door she heard a car and turned to see a police vehicle draw up at the roadside. Two officers emerged and extracted a person from the back seat; it was the man from the picture and he was handcuffed. Any idea that prisoners were taken in the back door was quashed when he was led towards her. She could not retreat and in panic pushed open the door and rushed inside to get out of their way.

Inside, the front desk was unattended. Lottie edged into the corner and pretended to be totally absorbed in the posters about safety at cash machines and zipping up your shopping bags. When she risked turning to look they were already disappearing through a door. Lottie fled back outside, feeling as guilty as if she had committed a crime.

She was soon back in her little cottage, the door firmly closed behind her. Had someone dobbed that man in or had he confessed? He could be innocent,  dobbed in by an enemy, or perhaps his wife recalled him coming home in blood stained clothes…   No one knew her and even fans of her books were unlikely to recognise the windswept CCTV picture; the Lottie Lincoln author photo on the back of her novels was very different.

The lunchtime news merely showed lots of forensic suits trampling over the daffodils in the park. But the evening news headlined with the arrest of a man who was being kept in custody for further questioning.

‘Police believe a woman caught on CCTV at Puddleminster Police Station is the woman caught on camera with the arrested man. Chief Inspector MacDonald has urged her to come forward to help with their enquiries and stressed that there is no suggestion she was involved in any way with the crime.’

Did he mean that or was it a trick to catch her?

Friday Fiction Focus

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I was reading a story on Annika Perry’s blog and one of the phrases sounded familiar. When I reached the end she revealed

‘The above story celebrates some of the 80 books I read in 2023 and it’s fun to create a short narrative featuring a few of the titles.‘

The familiar phrases was the title of my novel ‘At The Seaside Nobody Hears You Scream’ and Annika had written a five star review. It’s always great to get a good review, especially if the reader ‘gets’ the story and style.

‘VINE VOICE

5.0 out of 5 stars Gripping and unusual with terrific characters! Highly recommended! Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 12 September 2023

Verified Purchase

Congratulations to the author for this superbly crafted and original book that had me hooked from the very start. Toby Channing by accident became a private investigator following the disappearance of his girlfriend, Anna. A year later, he is still an unconfirmed police suspect in her disappearance while personally he is determined to find her. In the process he has set himself up a business in his camper van, travelling around the U.K. to areas special to Anna and helping people along the way, people who have lost someone close to them.

I love the dual aspects of this book, the unusual cases taken on by Toby, the original people he meets along the way and that even an amiable hyperactive robot and the supernatural flow seamlessly into the storyline. It shows the skill of the author how certain cases overlap with his search for Anna.

The story behind Anna’s disappearance is slowly revealed and takes on an even darker national secret.

I loved everything about ‘At the Seaside Nobody Hears You Scream’ and look forward to picking up more of Janet Gogerty’s books in the near future. Highly recommended.’

You can read Annika’s blog here.

A TERRIBLE KINDNESS et al
Available to download on Kindle or as a paperback.

The novel was not Toby Channing’s first appearance. In my collection ‘Someone Somewhere’ he features in a short story and in the two novellas that are linked to the novel and tell the full story behind the hyperactive robot and a supernatural romance.

This collection is different from my previous short story collections. As well as two novellas it includes a look at flash fiction from 75 words to 1000.

When Selina’s son tells her he is bringing someone for the weekend the guest is not what she is expecting.
A summer solstice weekend at Durlswood House promises to be very pleasant, but events occur that will change the lives of two people forever.
Someone is somewhere, but are they where they should be and who are they? Enjoy two very different novellas.
How long is a story? How short is flash fiction? Four topical short stories and two chapters of flash fiction round up this collection and take your mind to somewhere you may not have been before.

Also available for kindle or as a paperback.

I am currently enjoying this collection of short stories by Annika Perry.

THE STORYTELLER SPEAKS