it’s just research, officer.

Hubby is a bit nervous about my current work in progress ‘Mimi gets away with Murder.’ I mean, I didn’t really need to research much. She shoots her cheating snake of a husband and he dies, messily, on the white tiles in the entry foyer.

‘It’s fiction, darling,’ I say, but he’s not convinced, so I follow with, ‘Don’t cheat on me and we won’t have to find out.’

Writers often talk about their dodgy computer search history. Mine is full of herb lore and stone circles for my other work in progress. Besides, I didn’t have to research much about murder for Mimi because she just shoots him and that’s that, and I promise you that’s not a spoiler. I did call on an interview with a soldier who served in Iraq who talked about how much it can take to kill someone sometimes, especially if they’re determined to take you with them. It’s not all John Wick-style one bullet per person! No ma’am. Sometimes their intestines are hanging out and they’re still walking, Zombie-like, towards you. Apparently.

I’ve had to take a little break from writing Mimi because it’s a bit grim. Gotta get back some positive vibes! In general, I’ve been feeling optimistic about the future this year and that’s weird because I am not often accused of optimism. I tend towards cynicism and any optimism I might harbour comes mostly in the form of a feeling that hard work begets success. I’ve been working hard, ergo, success. Good things happen to good people, right? Mostly?

Right?

Yes, okay…I know… That isn’t always the case. One thing I can fall victim to is naïveté and occasionally even gullibility. Wishing doesn’t make it so, I say to my husband sometimes and forget to heed my own wisdom. Like him, I can be too trusting and I will often take people on their word. I miss red flags. I don’t heed signals because I’m too busy trying to be nice.

I will sometimes see the sun shower and the rainbow and completely miss the guy standing there with the fire hose cleaning out the septic tank. Sometimes. But only if there are mitigating circumstances. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

I feel like a dummy because I trusted someone, for years, who recently showed their true colours and those colours turned out to be vomit green, puce and the ugliest yellow/purple plaid combo you’ve ever seen. This person didn’t let me down, they upturned the whole world of someone I love and I’m so angry. For years I defended this snake because the loved-one of my loved-one is my loved-one and is worth defending, right?

So, now we pick up the pieces and move on and make vows of ‘never again’ and ‘don’t even darken my doorstep.’ And I keep researching hitmen and disposal techniques. ‘It’s writer research, I promise, your honour.’

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