Readingwise, September was a pathetic month with six reviews only. On the other hand, most of them were wonderful books.
With regard to my fiction writing things went quite a lot better. I finished the first draft of my first cosy novel ever, The Cosy Knave. Besides, five people offered their help as beta-readers in a day or two. The community of blogging is marvelous!
So what I should be doing now is editing, editing, editing. And I am. But after ten days I have reached a point where I can see that my poor imagination has to have another project to keep it alive. Last night I said, okay then, let me see what you can do.
Here is what my imagination came up with around midnight:
The Halloween Murderer
Of course something happens in Knavesborough, meaning Rhapsody will be alone most of the week. By accident, some of the previous owner´s books are mixed up with Rhapsody´s so one sleepless night she stumbles on a diary or something. Did the little, old lady really die peacefully in her sleep, or was she murdered because she knew too much?
The village is heavily ridden by superstition. They are all certain that around Halloween, somebody will die. Just like last year, and the year before that ...
Rhapsody is not the least superstitious, but when she needs some solid facts, she has to get in touch with the daughter in California to find out what´s what.
Well, that was as far as I got (or rather: that was as much as I want to tell you beforehand).
Anyone who would want to read on?