Two weeks ago I wrote about the first book I published as an actual book, a hold in your hand and turn the pages book. It’s ‘Flipside’ and I had reread it for the first time in a very long time, and came across several typos despite having edited it so carefully (as I thought), also a couple of words which for some reason I kept repeating, and the ending which needs a proper conclusion.
So as well as other editing and writing, I have used attending to ‘Flipside’ as a breather. I have corrected typos, substituted other words for the one I kept repeating, and have written what I hope will be a satisfactory conclusion for the reader – allowing them to unwind from the drama of what is now the penultimate chapter. The main characters in the book are a brother and sister, Kiran and Jaz, his partner Des and ex-wife Denise, and a murderer who has killed several women in the town of Oldham where Jaz has arrived to take up a teaching post.
The whole story was triggered by two real people I observed while waiting to pick up my car from the garage in Oldham where it had been serviced. I was sitting in the waiting area of the office and there was a man behind the desk, a big muscular man, standing staring out of the window across to the Pennine Hills. He had been pleasant and polite when I’d come in, quietly spoken but not conversational. While I was waiting he seemed to have forgotten I was there, just stared out of the window, and to me he looked incredibly sad – not miserable, but sad, very sad. The door into the workshop opened and another man came; he was dressed in a flashy suit with an expensive looking tie, he was not as tall as the other, he was wiry and quick and busy. He was chatty and jokey, and the other man responded, and it struck me that they were friends as well as colleagues. The smaller man turned and told me in a friendly cheery way that my car was nearly ready, then hurried out again. The big man looked down at the ledger on the desk and seemed to sigh and his face became serious again and he raised his eyes to stare sadly out of the window.
I was fascinated. They seemed friends, but were so different and my mind began to work. Why was the big man so very, very sad – or did he just have a sad face? Why did the smart guy seem indifferent? What did these two very different men have in common? How had they become friends? Before long a story grew around them, and eventually it became ‘Flipside’. I will share a new link to my book when I’ve finished checking one last time and have spruced up the cover.
Lois Elsden 