After my nightmare I have a new character meet - VOSS

After a nightmare Sunday night I woke with the shivers, but it did give me an Idea for a character in a detective story. I'll let Barry Voss introduce himself in his own way.

I walked into the bathroom, Estelle my wife had just stepped out the shower, at first I wondered why she would be showering at this time of the day. She yelled at me to leave. I didn’t wait long for my answer to why. Tony Peters, defence lawyer and former schoolyard sweetheart met me at the bedroom door. All boxer-shorts and suspenders he looked like he’d been caught out by the head boy. I guessed this was not the first time, he had seen the colour of my sheets but it would the last.

‘Voss,’ He said.

I waited for him to search his gilt edged brain for something original and unscripted. There was nothing. Word around the court is that the slippery bastard needs a team of underlings making bullets for him to fire. I had been up against him more than once, he could twist and turn like a scalded snake, but he only won as half many as he lost. I would evil eye the crim during his cross examination of my testimony. My thing was to make faces at the bloke in the dock while Slippery Peters painted these pricks to depict something like a scene on the ceiling of the Cysteine Chapel. Gimme a break. Now here he is in my house, screwing my wife, in my bed and he’s lost for words. I want to grab him by the balls and twist.

‘God what’s that stink?’ He said.

‘Oh that’s me. Here hold this,’ He took my jacket. ‘Recyclers pulled a body out of the garbage exchange, looks like it had been in a wheelie-bin for weeks. Gut burst when the ME rolled it over, don’t know who she is yet, but your holding onto part of her now.’

It must have been instinct because he threw my jacket across the room. ‘Oh fuck he said it’s all over me now.’ He went to push past only I blocked his path. Estelle, come and ask your Neanderthal to move before I have to deal with him.’

He probably didn’t hear her answer because I hit him with a right cross to his solar plexus and caught his face with my knee as he doubled over. I wiped the gunk off my suit with his shirt and trousers, shoved all I owned into a suitcase and left. That was ten years ago.

Research into a bit of automotive stuff

Nice when someone in the auto industry remembers me, today I am trying to find photos of independent rear suspension assemblies and how the different designs control bump steer.

Bump steer happens when the car is loaded either across the lateral or vertical axis. The affected wheels can move forward or back depending on the loading. This movement makes the wheel move and steer that side of the car independent of steering wheel inputs. Most manufacturers accept some bump steer and even use it to assist turn in. However in a racing situation the drive needs these inputs to be predictable and try to eliminate it.

To check how much a wheel moves race teams have made tools to do the job. Check out this unit on an older Nascar.

Mothers Day and Writing

Each Mothers' Day the world spends billions of dollars on cards, in fact every occasion is celebrated by exchanging gifts, or cards, sometimes letters hold the message. Behind it all someone has written something, it might be short like, I love you Mum, I couldn't do it without you. Your loving son Bill.

    Now I know that's hardly original, but when you think that Bill set out to find a card with the right words to express his love, he had a connection with an often faceless author who penned the lines that captured his imagination. They said what he couldn't articulate.

   The card writers' skill is not to be underestimated, they are part poet, part philosopher and every one a literary genius. Song writers fill a world of emotion into the lines of a song, poets can keep us entertained with a hundred lines, but the person who penned the verse in that card you bought for your mother managed it in just over five to seven lines.

    Today when you pass over your gift with the card sticky taped to the top, give a silent thank you to the unseen writer who cranked out that message and many more to meet the quota his or her job demanded on the day.

I'll raise a glass and toast each one of them today, I challenge you to do the same.

My Anzac Day Tribute

Your Grandad’s medals sit in my drawer

Presented to him at the end of the war

And though he left us when you were young

I keep them to remind me of songs he sung

Like Waltzing Matilda and Danny Boy

Always lusty and sung with joy

On Anzac Day in Seventy Two

He beamed with pride when he first saw you

And so today my son I have them on view

To remind me of the terror that he went through

Believing his land would be safe from harm

If he shouldered a rifle over his arm

I hope like him the day will come

When there will be no need for a mother’s son

To be asked to make such sacrifice

And for our young country to pay such a price

And though you left us when you were young

Presented to you at the end of the war

Your medals sit safely in my drawer

We keep them to remind us of songs you sung

Good information hidden in here

I found this link through a comment I made on Linked in's Author U  pages.

Hope it's helpful:

http://buildbookbuzz.com/amazon-book-description/

Planning a Book Tour for 2017

Hi,

Starting to see the end in sight for Les Gillespie's Gold and beginning to think about a  book launch sometime  in 2017. So I need some suggestions for the following.

• Australian towns to visit.
• What would be better, a library, or book-store launch venue
• Best time of day.
• Would you prefer me to talk on my writing processes, or about the book itself.
• Contact details of the librarian or bookshop manager.

If you can help, Please message me via Facebook or leave a comment on the blog. 

I am looking forward too and will be thankful for your input.

Cheers,

Terry

Les Gillespie's Gold excerpt from Chapter 38

I put chapter thirty eight of my Les Gillespies Gold manuscript to our writing group for critique today. At this point we are about half way into the story and much is happening. 

 I loved writing the chapter and although long has added quite a bit of drama and intrigue to the tale. I particularly liked tapping out this exchange by three generations of Gillespie girls. 

I hope you enjoy it too.

Laura and Tilly nattered while they drove to the farm, in the back Emily put her iPod down. ‘Mum, you said Pop wanted to go to Wilson’s, right?’

‘That’s what he said. Why?’

‘Can we go skinny dipping like you and Samantha did?

Laura, her face full of question, turned to her daughter with palms upturned. Tilly said nothing.

Emily kept up.’ And what is skinny dipping anyway?’

Tilly felt her face flush, Laura’s hands paddled the air in slow circles. ‘Yes, Tilly, come on,’ She made exclamation marks with her fingers. ‘just what is skinny dipping?’

‘It’s a saying we use for having a swim, a swim in a water hole.’ Tilly turned to her mother. Laura watched as a rolled up tongue breached her daughter’s lips and slipped back as quick as it appeared. ‘And no, Em. Not today, we didn't bring any bathers.’

‘Robert says you don’t wear bathers, when you’re skinny dipping.’

Laura was still facing Tilly, she shrugged and mouthed the words ‘Who is Robert?’

‘Tell Granny about Robert, Em.’ Embarrassing moment avoided, she hoped.

‘He has to sit in the naughty corner at Fiona’s.’

‘And why does he do that?’ Laura asked

‘Because he pulls the girls hair and calls us names.’ Emily picked up her tablet. ‘Can you show me the waterhole?’

‘Maybe on a nice warm day when we have our bathers, you me and Jeff can all go swimming.’ Tilly said and put her hand up to high five her mother.

‘Not so fast, Tilly Gillespie.’ Laura said. ‘Samantha’s from the mining company, you’ve had dinner with her and now Emily says you have been out to Wilson's. When were you going to tell Dad?’