I’m currently working on the edit of a psychological thriller I wrote, telling the story in First Person to create a greater degree of psychological immediacy. I think it’s a case of a) paint the picture, b) move on, and c) don’t linger or get stuck in the words.
Here is another brief section from the novel. The context? Central character Alan has recently returned to his native Lancashire with his young son Robert, and has uncovered evidence regarding a crime in his past
We chat for a little while more, then Kaz has to get back to lunch preparation behind the counter, where Killing Me Softly, the original version, is playing on the radio. It’s quarter to twelve, and spitting with rain outside. I tell Kaz I’ll come back to see her, and make my way to the indoor market.
The market’s bustling with people and chatter. Smells of raw cauliflower from a fruit and veg stall. Fried chicken and vinegary chips. Low priced SIM cards and cheap watches. Anoraks and trainers. Handbags and purses. Eggs and cheeses and jars of honey. Eventually, I find the hoover man Lenny on his stall in the middle isle, gloved hands wrapped around a flask cup of tea. He’s aged around sixty and dressed in a quilted jacket.
I sense immediately that he and I have never met . I buy a hoover and cart it back to the car.