I’m finishing the last few chapters of my sequel Streaming James. I’m so excited! I took way too long to finish this novel.
I’m laughing as I finish the chapters. Not because they are funny. It’s a paranormal murder mystery, after all. I’m laughing because of the old joke, If found dead, delete my browsing history.
As a writer, I look up some crazy stuff. You’d think I’m a serial killer or suicidal. My protagonist can stream the dead after a failed suicide, so there was lots of research on depression and suicide. To finish the last chapters, I’m googling behaviors that can mitigate a murder sentence, the average sentence for murder, and what type of drugs can be slipped into a drink that causes hallucinations leading to murder. My husband would be very nervous, looking over my shoulder right about now.
Any thing on your browsing history you would want deleted?
On October 24, 1593, a Spanish soldier called Gil Perez was mysteriously transported from Manila in the Philippines to the Plaza Mayor in Mexico City.
On that morning Gil Perez, who was a member of the Filipino Guardia Civil and worked as a guard at the palace of the Governor General in Manila, was doing his guard duties at the Governor’s palace All the soldiers were on high alert since Chinese pirates had assassinated the governor — Gomez Perez Dasmarinas – just a day or two before, and were awaiting the appointment of a new chief. Gil Perez was tired and decided to lean against a wall and rest for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that he was no longer at the palace, but in a completely unfamiliar place. He was still wearing his uniform and noticed that people were approaching him to ask questions…
I waited in the foyer for the wedding march to start.
“Friend of the groom or bride?” The usher asked as he held out his arm to walk me to my seat.
“Neither” I responded. I’m here for the father of the bride.” He looked confused but didn’t argue. I moved back to let him know I wouldn’t be taking a seat. He turned his attention to another guest.
His confusion was understandable, the bride’s father had passed away ten years ago. I guess in a way; I was here for the bride. My employee Harold was going to be a host body for her deceased father, Jeff Patterson, so he could attend his daughter’s wedding and walk her down the aisle. I thought back to my wedding and the picture of my mother holding space in the front of the church as a poor substitution for the woman that raised and loved me. Mom had passed when I was twelve. Her photo was the only way I could involve her in my wedding.