I finished the first draft of the new (old) novel, a rewrite of a rather pathetic bit of crime fiction that I just could not give up on. The chapters are being reviewed as I write this. I’m taking some time off. I put in some long days on this and it still isn’t ready for prime time.
Meantime, something somewhat disturbing to keep the reader wondering, “Just where did he go that weekend and who—or what—was he with?”
To tell you the truth, I’m not sure myself. I woke up in my own bed, but the room looked too normal. …