Yes. Yes, I’ll keep ’em coming. You bet I’ll keep ’em coming because they’re all I have to keep me going.
We all know the joke. Most of us are familiar with the long standing gag about the main character in a detective/amateur sleuth series really being the killer all along. We’re so familiar with this, that you can’t have a Miss Marple Writing contest in any writer’s group without about 99% of the entries involving Miss Marple being the killer.
So that got me to thinking, as is so often the origin story of all my problems. What if that sweet, unassuming old lady across the street from you, the one who lives comfortably in retirement, goes to church, tends her garden, and occasionally has you over for tea, was a contract killer?
Thus, I began writing a story that begins on a cold winter’s night, in a pub…