Yaaaayyyhhhh!!!

I’ve done it! At last, Book 3 of the Beaufort’s Landing Murder Mystery series 1st draft is done. My god, it was like pulling teeth. I honestly felt like I would never finish it. I don’t understand why.

I know you’ve seen the cover before, but thought that after all this time you would have forgotten.

Have you ever had trouble getting the words on paper like that. It wasn’t that I didn’t know where the story was going or how it would resolve. It was more a problem putting one word after the other. Hell, one letter after the other. I had heard (somewhere) that the third of a series was difficult. Let me put my name to the list of complainers…It was a bitch!

Anyhow, now I have to rewrite, and rewrite, and use my beta reader, then edit, and re-edit. I’m hoping to have it ready for release in January. Order your copies now. Actually, I don’t have pre-order set up on Amazon, so you can’t do that. Why? Well, because I don’t know how.

I am hoping to have a book launch as soon as I get some hard copies. I’ll be sure to let you know when.

In the meantime, Books make great Christmas gifts so go to this link. HERE, Go on, you know you want to, and I certainly want you to. Just think, you’ll be giving 2 presents at once— one for the receiver and one for the author, who thanks you very much.

Here is a short excerpt to whet your appetite:-

You little snot, Xelma thought. Instead of voicing her distain at his close-mindedness, she extended her hand. ‘Xelma.’

‘Selma who?’

‘No one. Just Xelma, X.e.l.m.a…and you are?’

‘Geoff Orson.’ 

The young man looked at her hand held out in greeting, and with just the slightest of pauses took her fingers in his flaccid, seemingly boneless hand for a brief moment. It was enough. Xelma didn’t like the exchange, and had to stop herself from rubbing his touch off onto her sarong.

‘Aw, don’t be like that,’ Glenda chided him. ‘She gives most of her earnings to local charities. That’s what Geoff’s doing, Xelma. Cyclin’ for charity. He’s riding from Brisbane to the top end to raise money for…what was it again?’

‘ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease.’

‘Never heard of it,’ Glenda responded. ‘His wife died of it just recently, poor soul.’

I’m sorry for your loss,’ Xelma said. ‘Geoff.’

With an impatient shake of her head, Xelma brought herself back to the moment. Her eyes took in the covered swag laid out next to an open fire pit. The ash was dead grey. Everything looked undisturbed and there was no evidence of a struggle. She got no sense of him being dead, but there was something in the air under that tree that made her uncomfortable, not in a dangerous way rather in a strange, foggy way.

‘I don’t feel his presence at all,’ she reported. ‘It’s as though he just walked away and left it, leaving nothing behind.’

‘Nothing? Yer daft creature, he’s left everything.’ Glenda sighed. ‘S’pose I’ll have to ring that new cop now. Damn it. He’s a grumpy bugger, not social like Niall useta be.’

Well that is all for now, I’ll try to do something useful before the next blog.

How is your writing going? Come on you can do it!

Cheers,

Busy, Busy, Busy…

I would have written sooner, but Rosa has been busy with her art stuff, and has just wall-papered the two bedrooms. They aren’t perfect but look okay. She’s so vain and thinks that’s a good reason for ignoring me, thus you. Honestly!

She did design my business cards, though. What do you think?

But, I am here now! — And still have nothing much to tell you. Sales of my books are pretty good when I go to markets etc. but still no money for advertising. Can somebody tell me why as soon as I get a bit an unexpected bill arrives?

I am still writing book 3 of the Beaufort’s Landing series. It is coming easier now, in fact I wrote over 1000 words this morning. It felt good. Writing red herrings is the best. Sometimes I even fool myself…like, What? Where did that come from? She can’t be the murderer! … It’s a hoot.

If anyone reading this is also on my newsletter list. I apologise for not putting anything out there for absolutely ages. I have no excuse.

I have got some good feed-back from the Prequel ‘Becoming Xelma’, but no one has said much about Book 2 of the DNA trilogy, ‘Daughter of Anger’. Come on people help me out here, lol.

I will be starting book three of the Trilogy as soon as I finish book three of Beaufort’s. I sincerely hope it comes a bit easier.

Now, I have to get back to life chores. So, Later

Post Covid Writing

So…the launch of the Prequel to the Murder Mysteries and Daughter Of Anger is over. I sold a few books, but really it was a great big flop. I am no good at this marketing game. I did the best I could, but without money for advertising etc I am up against it. Nevermind, I love writing…

What on earth has happened to this blog page? It’s gone all weird. Why can’t I make the pics smaller? Too bad. I don’t have time to muck around so que sera, sera.

What I really want to talk about is how weird my post-covid time was. I knew I had fog-brain and was very fatigued, but man!

So, I’ve told you I’m writing Book 3 in the Beaufort’s Landing murder mysteries series. I had written a portion before the covid got me. I was pretty useless for about 2 weeks, then I felt a bit better, apart from the brain thing. I wrote some, slept a lot, wrote, slept etc for almost 2 months. That may seem pretty good…right? I thought so, but I decided to print out what I had, read and edit it before continuing. Guess what? —— The new writing is a complete jumble. I mean, really crazy with paragraphs and sentences in the wrong chapters, characters out of place, absolutely not continuity. The sentences made sense in themselves, but not in the storyline. Not only that! But, there were 20 -30 pages I didn’t even recognise. I wrote them??? Yep, but couldn’t remember writing them. Having re-read them a couple of times since, I think I kinda remember them, but not really. I mean, the pages weren’t in too bad shape so I a little ahead there.

However, I’m a bit weirded out about the whole thing. I was so demented and that’s scary.

The good news is, that I’ve been beavering away, now that I’m back to normal, and the MS makes some kind of sense. I’m feeling better about everything. Have you had any peculiar post covid effects? Let me know. I have to go now, so until next time,

D.O.A.

First let me say to all those who have liked or followed my blog lately and all along, ‘Thank you!’. I’m not ignoring your encouragement, but life is hectic sometimes and things get away from me.

You’ve probably read at Per Rose Oddly that we are getting a payment from Amazon. I believe I can take the credit here, After all every one loves a whodunnit, right? Her Poetry is all right, but can hardly compete with me.

I am sending for the proof of Daughter of Anger. so that will be out soon. Book 2 of the DNA Trilogy —

The recipient of a 5 star People’s Choice award. Read the review part of which appears below….

This is a very interesting story for fans of suspense and psychological thrillers, a fascinating story with multilayered characters. The narrative is stellar and it features excellent prose and powerful plot points. Note that it does contain mature content and situations that can be psychologically challenging. The use of the epistolary style reinforces the beauty and depth of the story, allowing the mindset of the protagonist to come out clearly, deepening the elements of the conflict, and enhancing character development. The twists and turns in Jenny’s Story (sic – previous title) are manifold and readers won’t see them coming. Percy Rose has a unique and compelling voice in the genres of crime and psychological novels, and this book is a fascinating read and a real treat.

Just to whet your appetite, let’s read the opening…

My Story

Dear Doctor Alec,  

 I’m innocent. I didn’t do it. I would never murder anyone. You believe me, don’t you?

Sorry, I had a moment’s panic there. I’m getting ahead of myself…

   Let me open with a little quote my mother used…

‘True! – Nervous – very, very dreadfully nervous. I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses – not destroyed not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! And observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.’

It’s a quote from the beginning of Poe’s, ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’, with which I am sure you are familiar, my dear doctor. Pretty apt considering my circumstances, don’t you think? I’ve never actually read any of his work myself. And, it’s a funny thing, Mum never used to read fiction at all until her later years. Most of what she did read was on the dark and weird side.

As you can see, I have decided to take up your suggestion and write down my story. But I shall do it in my own way and in my own time. After all, a girl must have her secrets.

 You pretend this is for my own good, but I know the truth. The truth is that you are curious, with more than an academic, professional curiosity. Yes, much more than that. You want to see into my life, into my mind, how I think, so you can take possession of it, of me. You think that if you can just understand, that if I know you understand, I will be yours.

Ah yes, I can hear the shocked denial echo through that bulbous head of yours, but you know it’s true. That is why you are a psychiatrist. You love that smug sense of superiority. You love watching your patients’ futile struggles as you pin us down with your words, your diagnoses. You love poisoning us with your filthy drugs that subdue us, make us malleable in your hands.

Outrageous, you say. And well you might, because it is outrageous. You are a very naughty man. I’ve heard all about you, and what goes on behind closed doors. Do you think that we don’t speak to each other, we in-mates of the female locked ward at the Mental Health Unit. Such a fancy name for a Lunatic Asylum, a Looney Bin. You may not see our lips move, but we are communicating all right. Have you never heard of telepathy? Yes, telepathy. They have told me everything. They whisper to me constantly, especially at night. Their voices ring in my head, telling in intimate detail, intimate detail of their ‘sessions’ with you.

They tell me everything. They send me pictures – your hand on a breast, sliding sensuously up a bare thigh, your full, wet lips kissing and sucking. I thrash around in my bed. I groan aloud as I bite the pillow to muffle my orgasm.

However, that is not what you want to hear about, is it?

What do you think? Admit it, you want to read more…

Prequel

Well, I have finished the rough draft and 2nd draft. It is now with a Beta reader. So, now I’m going away for a week to relax and then come back and attack it again.

I am, of course, referring to the prequel to the Beaufort’s Landing series, which explains a couple of things about Xelma’s character and her past. Like all of us, she is a complicated creature and this novella (about 60 Pages) explores that, a bit. It is not a ‘whodunnit’ but there is criminal activity, murder and mayhem. All of the action takes place in Brisbane, (where I lived from about 10 years old to 20 yrs.) but ends up with Xelma moving to Townsville region.

I do have a dilemma, however, the title. The above cover is a work in progress what do you think of it? Now, please help me decide on the title…

  1. Coming Home OR 2. Becoming Xelma

I have a stack of things to do before I choo-choo off south, so if you’ll excuse me…