Why I Threw a Pig Off a Bluff Into the Ohio River
Maybe it's because of my criminal defense trial background, but I worry a lot about some clever reader catching me in some stupid mistake. (My pace would suggest more than having any readers of the sequel, clever or otherwise.) This is not to say my characters don't do stupid things. Judging Angels was two inches thick of one stupid thing after another.
Watching other people do stupid things can be entertaining when they're not just stupid people, and edifying when neither are you and you can learn why smart people still do stupid things.
But what's sauce for my characters' goose is not sauce for their creator's gander.
So, I had to go back and revise the beginning of the long-awaited sequel to Judging Angels all because the Ohio River has a disappointing current speed of .5 mph to 3 mph at best.
I don't need a pig to figure out that it's going to take a body at least an hour to be carried by the current three miles, and probably longer.
Besides Ohio River hydrography, I have also been submerged in researching cold-water drownings in the Netherlands and shotguns. A novel just doesn't feel right if it doesn't have guns. And redheads. A writer can't go far wrong if he can work those into a book, especially in the same scenes.
I also had an entertaining email exchange with the Bentley automobile company, one of whose silky English 12-cylinder beasts I intend to purchase as soon as I won't miss a sum in the lower six digits.
I have even been writing. I know that because when I am struck by that essential plot point the clock on my nightstand says 2:30 a.m.