Good morning! Today I am a part of “The Playground Murders” (brilliant title, no?) by Lesley Thomson blog tour. I haven’t hosted a guest post for a long time and so, this time, the lovely author has written one for me, and it is about a day in author’s life – I was always intrigued how they look like. So put your feet high and enjoy!
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Forty years ago, in the dark of the playground, two children’s lives were changed for ever.
Stella Darnell is a cleaner. But when she isn’t tackling dust and dirt and restoring order to chaos, Stella solves murders. Her latest case concerns a man convicted of killing his mistress. His daughter thinks he’s innocent, and needs Stella to prove it.
As Stella sifts through piles of evidence and interview suspects, she discovers a link between the recent murder and a famous case from forty years ago: the shocking death of six-year-old Sarah Ferris, killed in the shadows of an empty playground.
Stella knows that dredging up the past can be dangerous. But as she pieces together the tragedy of what happened to Sarah, she is drawn into a story of jealousy, betrayal and the end of innocence. A story that has not yet reached its end…
- A Day in the LifeReaders ask me, what is a typical day?I’m lucky, unless I’m preparing for an event or teaching (I’m a visiting tutor on an creative writing MA) I write every day.7am. I walk our poodle Alfred through a ruined priory of crumbling flint walls. In winter I wear a high-vis jerkin and a headtorch.Alfred has a neon collar. In the dark it’spotentially scary and it inspired me to write The Dog Walker … in which the dog walker dies. Unlike a character in that novel I’m not alone. There’s a bunch of us solving world issues and keeping each other sane.After breakfast and a read of the newspaper, I start writing.8.30am. My target is1,000 words.Obviously not any old words, but this objective keeps up the pace of the drama and gets the first draft down. On a first draft with blank pages ahead, it’s easy to procrastinate, rework a sentence over and over or dip out and check email.11.15. I’m in the patisserie for a takeaway latte and a natter with the owner Libby and anyone in the queue. I leave invigorated for the next writing stint. If I’m stuck -Why would Stella be at the crime scene? When should Jack tell Stella the truth?-I’ll stop inthe gardens of anElizabethan house where colourful flowerbeds, newly-cut lawns within more flint walls soothe the brain.1pm. Lunch with The Archers on catch up. Another dog walk, just me and Alfred. Walking’s ideal for fleshing out characters and deciding their next move. I dictate ideas into my phone or I won’t remember. In the old days I’d ring home and leave a weird message on the answer machine.The blood was between the floorboards.I’ve had mishaps. I lost Alfred’s lead and had to lug him home (he chases lorries so can’t be off-lead). Seven kilos gets heavier after half a mile. Another time I fell on my face in mud. Heigh hoe, it feeds the fiction.Then one afternoon we were playing ball in the park.I stopped by the children’s playground, the primary coloured equipment cheery on a greyday. Kids charged about,swarming up ropes,swinging from bars. I recalled the playground of my own childhood. Playgrounds, I pondered, chucking Alfred his ball, are fun places where children play imaginative games. What if their games are not fun? The plot for The Playground Murders unfolded.4.30pm. Cuppa and reads omething, perhaps for research or another crime-writer’s novel if I’m moderating a panel. It’s called work, but I love it.6pm: The End.Relax. Take ages to do half the Guardian Quick Crossword.
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