• Novel

    Writing a Crime Novel

    Anyone that knows me, knows I have an obsession with the darker side of the human mind. The part that allows humans to commit heinous acts against one another. I am a total True Crime junkie, a complete and utter addict. I seek out the best, most well-researched podcasts (True Crime Junkie, RedHanded & Morbid), read books, and devoured YouTube video after YouTube video, documentary (I’m looking at you Bailey Sarian & Stephanie Harlowe). I’m just about to start reading I’ll Be Gone in the Dark and I have a list as long as my arm of true crime books I’m dying to read.

    So I have started to formulate my crime novel, create my investigators and my victim, her parents, and her life. Next is my killer. This feels like the biggest task of the bunch. Creating someone who can hide in plain sight and move in the darkness to commit acts that are unspeakable without a soul realising that they are responsible.

    They are the type who people will say “Oh… but they were so nice, you’d never have known. They were always so friendly and once lent me a cup of sugar when I needed it”. The ones who shock and surprise the nation because they realise that monsters don’t look any different to anyone else.

    Creating a backstory, detailing their earlier crimes, and what, perhaps, drove them to commit the crimes they do? To give them whole personhood, a life, a job, a significant other.

    It’s been fun, I have to admit, dipping my toe into that side of things. Planning out the ruthlessness of their murderous mind and how it befalls our dreadfully unlucky victim

    This must be the best part of writing a crime novel, at least, I think it is. Getting to play with the darker side of what makes us human really makes me think about just what each individual must be capable of.

  • Novel

    Starting a Novel

    I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my noggin for a long time now – years in fact. Over that time I’ve let it grow a bit, change a bit and see what it needs to be and now it finally feels time to start working on it. I’ve always wanted to write a novel so this is really exciting for me.

    I’m sort of aware how huge of a undertaking that is – I’ve written feature length screenplays before so that helps. But, I’ll admit, it’s been such a long time that I feel like I’m dusting off the old cobwebs so to speak.

    The idea is a crime novel with just a twist of fantasy. Some of my favourite books are The Peter Grant Decective Series by Ben Aaronovich (Rivers of London etc) which are just fabulous and employ a brilliant mix of crime, magic and fantasy that I love.

    I also have been reading the Crow Investigation’s series about Lydia Crow, a PI with an interesting family history and even more fascinating back story into London itself (I have been really enjoying these and they are available to read for free if you have kindle unlimited)

    I would say that my idea kind of sits closer to a crime fiction/psychological thriller book end of the genre than the fantasy, but the fantasy is still definitely highly important to the novel.

    I am in that planning stage that can feel like it takes forever before you get to sit down and write, but I feel like right now this is the exciting part because I’m getting to shape my characters and my story, figuring out what works and what doesn’t work.

    Not to mention the research I’m doing! I am loving researching, reading true crime books, books on human behaviour and things. It’s set to be quite the book…. if only I can pull it off!

  • Poetry


    Here I am spun out on gear
    Will tomorrow be less full of fear?
    Don’t worry it’s all legal,
    Free too, for those that are frugal.
    Each prescription goes, if you think I’m a drain,
    To fight the good fight – the war on pain.
    Because the nerves won’t listen anymore,
    They have panic attacks no matter the score.
    Adhesions don’t know how to heal
    Leaving me unsure how to feel
    Unable to trust my own two feet on the floor
    Did you think I was joking when I said it’s a war?
    Like my body is on a spree
    Desperately seeking a space to be free
    Trying to find a moment of peace for my mind
    Overwhelmed by all my senses find
    The world is too bright and too loud
    I wonder if the disease is proud
    While it hides away, inactive, they say
    Leaving me little to do, except pray
    That I may live to see days into years
    Watch my children grow up, despite all my fears
    That the beast inside me will awaken
    Because I do not stand here unshaken
    Two battles won doesn’t constitute the war
    They don’t mean it’ll stay on the floor
    All I can do is to find ways to cope
    To try and remind myself to live in hope
    Here I am, all spun out on gear
    Trying not to live in perpetual fear

  • Poetry


    Feels like a lie by omission,
    This is just an intermission,
    A fire awaiting its ignition,

    It seems like I am waiting,
    For a little cell to begin tainting,
    While I spend every minute hating,
    This disease that spends no time wasting,

    Corrupting my flesh, my blood, my mind
    My existence here is timed
    I’ve never felt so blind
    My future already signed

    When it comes I shall fight,
    I will not lose the light,
    I will struggle with all my might,
    For those who shine so bright,

    Feels like a lie of omission,
    This is just an intermission,
    A fire awaiting its ignition.

  • Poetry


    Somewhere in the vast galaxies
    You exist as completely as you do in my heart
    I watch the night skies trying to find you
    My heart yearns for you, will never stop

    You are my lost little love,
    You are a feather on the breeze, free as a dove,
    You are everything my dreams and wishes are made of

    Somewhere in the vast galaxies
    You exist as completely as you do in my heart
    If you want to find me, you need only look down
    I am the one watching the night sky for you

    Watching you burn so bright
    A little soul left forever in flight
    Always setting my soul alight

  • Poetry

    Darling Girl

    Oh darling girl
    Let me carry you
    Just for today
    Just for a little bit
    Let me hold you tight
    Rest your head on my chest
    I’ll stroke the hair out of your eyes
    Listen to the sound of my heart
    Beating calmly in my chest
    Close your eyes
    Just breathe
    Let your troubles float away
    Find peace in the quiet
    Oh darling girl;
    It’ll be alright

  • Poetry

    Lonely is the Hour

    Lonely is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    Deafening roars surround,
    As your mind starts to roam,
    Silence only grows
    With each passing minute –
    Wrapping you within it,
    As if to keep you from weeping

    Lonely is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    When the sound is getting louder
    Vivid colours in the darkness
    Are a plague upon your stage
    Memories dance before you
    As the seconds fall away
    Into the chasm of the night

    Lonely is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    Growing to its crescendo
    ”Hush now!”
    While it’s screaming in your ear
    Relentlessly shrieking with laugher
    As it carries on its torture,
    Methodical and thorough

    Lonely is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    When the seconds last far longer
    As the peace of others mocks you
    While you lay down beside them
    Minutes counting down time
    Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock
    Until silence drowns out logic

    Lonely is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    It’s invasion nears completion
    As the worst assumes position
    Then sunshine shatters through
    Casting out the dreadful fright
    Peace at last as the sun rises
    Tranquility soothes fractured nerves

    Peaceful is the hour,
    When the sound of sleep,
    Is silence;
    Weary eyes begin to close
    Breaths become deeper and slower
    Muscles relax, free from fear
    It’s finally there,
    Finally in reach,
    Time to give in and sleep

  • Poetry

    Little Messages

    Little messages travel down to nerves,
    That shouldn’t be.
    Little messages travel down to nerves,

    Medication to fight that caused so much harm
    I wonder why it was so important that I won,
    Destroyed all the receptors it could find
    Leaving me broken

    Little messages send pain through my body
    That shouldn’t be.
    Little messages send pain through my body
    They shouldn’t be

    Contorted, I try to fight.
    But my skin is aflame,
    My organs are gone, lost to the fire.
    Even breathing seems to be hard,
    All because

    Little messages carry the flames throughout
    That shouldn’t be.
    Little messages carry the flames throughout
    They shouldn’t be

    I need to stop the messages, it’s so clear.
    The answer lies in a little vial,
    To send me to sleep,
    Away from the burning,
    Call for a doctor, for peace, for relief

    Little messages shutting down slowly,
    The answer seeps through me.
    Little messages shutting down slowly,
    The answer seeps through me

    Bit by bit my body relaxes,
    My brain begins to quieten.
    The world seems a lot softer,
    Almost aglow.
    My eyelids so heavy,
    Closing the world out.
    Dreamless sleep awaits

    Little messages calm at last.
    The answer has worked.
    Little messages calm at last.
    The answer has worked