Walk the Walk
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Insecurities this month
I was hoping that my stress level would decrease once my book was published. How wrong was I? Now, I’m constantly fretting about sales, promotion and marketing. An author’s job is never done. I’m particularly anxious because I’ve entered my novel, Ultimate Principle – A DCI Lane Rivers Novel – in the Storyteller2017 competition with Amazon UK. Firstly, it hasn’t even appeared yet on the entries list – maybe I’m just being impatient, but I’ll keep checking, and secondly, the selection process depends on customer reviews and comments, which is difficult to control. I would appreciate any and all support! A special thank you to those people who have already bought my book and reviewed it. I am so pleased with the feedback.
Reflective Question: What is the weirdest/coolest thing you ever had to research for your story?
The most exhausting research trip I did for my new novel, Ultimate Principle, was to traipse round London, timing how long it took on foot and the underground to get from place to place. After half a day, my husband had to buy me a more comfortable pair of shoes. I obviously hadn’t anticipated how tough geographical research would be.
Nowadays, we don’t have to travel to research places, we can just click a button on the computer and there we are. But there’s nothing more exciting than physically doing the journey. What do you think? Would you rather do all your research online or get out and about?
Even though I didn’t jog through the streets of London, here’s a snippet of my super fit detective chief inspector – Lane Rivers – who often did.
Lane slammed the front door and stepped into the early Sunday morning air. She lifted her arms above her head and stretched over to touch her toes. Her muscles responded. The heart monitor on her wristwatch beeped into action, and she hit the streets.
This was her favourite time of day to run. At five a.m., the streets of London were clear of its vast work force, inhabitants and the excessive amount of tourists. It was peaceful, and the solitude gave Lane space to declutter her mind. The sun was already making an appearance. It was going to be another scorcher of a day.
Her feet hit the tarmac in a regular, speedy rhythm as she ran along Bankside, passing the overpowering glass structure of the Shard. The Thames was docile at this time of year, its presence made known by the soft splashing of the current against the hooked-up cruise liners, which would later transport thousands of tourists.
Lane concentrated fully on her exercise and the beating of her heart. She was determined not to allow her body to succumb to the ageing process, and since the dreaded four-oh was creeping up on her, she’d increased her exercise regime. She swept a hand across her brow, removing a small layer of perspiration, and pushed towards Tower Bridge. On her approach, she navigated the concrete steps two at a time, and fell back into her high cadence of 180 steps per minute across the bridge – important to protect her knees and have the most efficient stride. She continued, turning left onto Lower Thames Street, heading for Blackfriars Bridge, then back over the river towards her Bermondsey home…
…Her concentration was interrupted by the vibration of her phone in the back pocket of her running shorts. She cursed at the number and swiped the screen. ‘What the hell, Ric? Don’t you ever sleep?’
‘Something’s come up I think you need to hear.’
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