The Awkward Squad
AKA The VIP Readers Club
Hello
“The secret of change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”
― Dan Millman, Way of the Peaceful Warrior.
I hope you're keeping well.
After some news of a couple of changes, we have some featured photos and a snippet of the book I'm working on.
First up, you've probably figured out that I'm changing the name of the newsletter.
While the Awkward Squad was popular with some, I've long suspected that it left others with furrowed brows and mild feelings of befuddlement. So on we go, under a new name and with a spring in our steps.
But there have been other changes around here.
There's a reason I haven't sent a newsletter for a while. I've been trying to keep too many plates spinning for too long, and something had to give. Writing, publishing and marketing my work involves a number of tasks and the process becomes more complex when you have quite a few books and they're listed on several stores.
So, after much deliberation I have added my ebooks to Amazon's Kindle Unlimited scheme. That means that if you're a member, you can read them for free. Also, if you have Amazon Prime, and many people do, you can access ebooks via Amazon Prime Reading at no extra charge. So it's good news for many of you.
This doesn't affect paperbacks which will remain available everywhere.
The downside is that Amazon now requires me to remove those ebooks from other stores, but to make up for this, I'll launch any new books on my own store first, so that everyone can buy them if they wish. I'll keep them on my store for a few weeks, and then they'll go into Kindle Unlimited.
If this leaves you in the lurch, I can only apologise for any inconvenience. It wasn't an easy decision, but there's just me running this show and I didn't have the bandwidth to manage all the ebook retailers.
The paperbacks are widely available and can be bought from my store or ordered from many retailers.
I'll press on with the newsletter, and there's a snippet of the upcoming Devonshire Mystery, but first, as always, some words of thanks:
Cheers!
A heartfelt thank you to these lovely people who have sent me a mug of tea. I'm raising a mug of Assam in honour of these recent supporters:
Carmen, Jennie, Lesley, and a couple of anonymous supporters
plus regular supporters: Alonza and Lara.
Thank you all for your kind words and support.
Want to join them?
Join Other Readers who get Weekly Updates
You can now get weekly summaries from my website. They're simple but they're free and you can unsubscribe at any time:
Featured Photos
We took a trip to Exeter to stroll along the quay the other day, and I was impressed how this area has been brought to life with cafes and shops and bars. It almost feels like being on the Med.
The Exeter Quay features in a couple of my books. In Accomplice to Murder, Dan runs along the quay and also talks to a certain policeman over a coffee. In Lawful Duty, characters visit a nightclub and a cafe by the quay. The cafe is shown below, although I did fictionalise it to afford them a better view from the window.
The above are taken from a larger collection on my website, and the images there are larger, so they're worth a look.
A Very Advanced Snippet
This is a first draft, so please don't judge it too harshly. Many writers would run naked through the streets rather than share a first draft, so if you want to see the longer version, please visit my site and log in or register.
There's a button below the snippet.
Thanks
Excerpt from Chapter 1
Her trusty trug in the crook of her arm, Marjorie Treave let herself into the chicken run and securely fastened the door behind her. Her bantams were a feisty bunch, and there were one or two who’d make a dash for freedom given half a chance.
But today, they obediently gathered around her, gazing up expectantly.
“Here you go, my lovelies,” Marjorie cooed, dipping into the trug to dispense a generous handful of freshly pulled weeds from the garden and offcuts of vegetables from the kitchen. The chickens set to, clucking excitedly as they pecked away. A few of the dandelions were complete with roots, and the soil clinging to them harboured slugs and insects or even, if the chickens were lucky, a worm or two.
Her flock contented, Marjorie strolled over to the hen house. The chicken wire enclosure was topped with nylon netting to keep the wild birds out—a precaution against outbreaks of bird flu and the like—but there was plenty of headroom, and she could walk across the run without stooping. The henhouse, too, was of generous proportions. The size of a small shed, she’d had it built by Jay Markham, before he’d turned his hand to painting and decorating, and he’d done a decent job. At any rate, the henhouse was a few years old but still kept her flock warm and dry, and there were extra ventilation slots that could be opened in the warmer months.
She’d insisted on the whole thing being built with good quality timber, all of it planed smooth, and though Jay had grumbled about the extra work, it had paid dividends. She’d had no problems with the mites that made their home in less well built henhouses, and while she had breath in her body, so it would remain.
Marjorie examined the wood shavings on the floor. It didn’t need changing yet, a fact helped by the drier weather, and the straw lining the nest boxes was still in good condition.
Marjorie inspected the nest boxes and murmured, “Well done, girls.” Between the four nest boxes there were five eggs, their pure white shells clean, and some were still warm when she picked them up and placed them gently in her trug. She checked the small containers of crushed oyster shells hanging on the henhouse wall, and they were fine. All that remained was to change the birds’ drinking water. Marjorie lifted the plastic drinker carefully so as not to spill a drop, but as she stepped out the henhouse, she almost let go of the thing entirely.
A young man stood in the lane, watching her over the fence. The narrow road reached her house and ended in a turning circle, so it was used only by visitors, or those who came to buy eggs or honey or homemade jam at the garden gate. This young man looked like he didn’t belong in either category.
He was tall and deeply tanned, and though he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so, he wore a full beard. His long hair was tied back, and there was something about his brown eyes that put Marjorie in mind of a film star, though she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember the actor’s name.
“Hello,” she called out, her tone making it clear that she didn’t enjoy being spied on. “Are you lost?”
What's Next?
I'll be working away at the next Devonshire Mystery for a while yet. I'm about halfway through, and still finding my way through the story. I've been known to change my mind about the victim partway through. And as I go along, I definitely change my mind about the culprit and, more importantly, their motive. But you can't change horses mid-stream without getting soaked, so I'm homing in on the guilty party.
Yes, it's harder this way, but it's how I work and I can't seem to do it any other way. I've tried to plan out a novel, believe me, but it never sticks.
Meanwhile, I have less admin tasks to manage so I can concentrate on writing. I hope that makes sense.
All the best.
Until next time, happy reading and take care.
Mikey C
PS: would you like more content or to get in touch?
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