I woke up in terror today. The climax of my current novel loomed like tax-day: a police shoot-out set in a hotel in Llanfairfechan. I know bugger all about police procedures, never mind shoot-outs, though I’ve stayed in hotels and driven past (and can pronounce) Llanfairfechan.
I do not have a calm, logical nature. More a Panic-First-Then-Hide-Under-The-Bed-type personality. Except there’s no room under our bed.
I knew what at first glance was wrong with said climax. To barrel home to the...
