So, I decided to write a series.
Book One is done and I'm waiting to hear whether it's a 'go' or not. I've been wallowing in my usual submission limbo, opening the file of the next book every day and staring at two pages I've written when I'm not chasing shiny things on the internet.
Today, I've decided to pull my finger out and gerronwithit.
Since I've posted this intention on this blog, that means I have to finish it. So, if you see me whining on Facebook or Twitter that I have writer's block, feel free to kick me in the arse.
This one, tentatively titled 'Darkness at Endersley', starts in London, but is mainly set at Endersley House, a fictional place high up on the Wiltshire Downs. As a (dubious) treat, here's the opening paragraph in all it's rough draft glory.
I slipped out of the brothel and onto the rain-soaked pavement. The storm hadn’t abated. Lightning flickered across a sky that had an ominous red glow toward the direction of the docks. I just wanted to get home. An empty house was better than nothing, was better than the dark, fetid hell of Whitechapel. I could crawl into bed and sleep away my shame.