Rhys on What I am Writing. I wish I knew.

 RHYS BOWEN:  What am I writing?  Well, at this moment you can take your choice.  If those of you who are not writers imagine the writer sitting alone in the garret, waiting for the muse to strike while someone else brings coffee and cookies, please reimagine.

This morning I have done two loads of laundry, including bed sheets and mopped all the hard floors of the house before settling at the computer where I am not quite sure what to do next.

1.         I am in the middle of writing the next Royal Spyness novel that takes place at the house of Chanel during a fashion show. So lots of research and lots of mental juggling about how a certain crime could possibly have been committed. I get brilliant ideas like…. Wouldn’t it be fun if a woman was killed in the middle of a fashion show when all the doors are locked? And? Not quite sure yet.

2.         I am also doing a final edit on my next Molly book which has to go to the publisher on December 1. This is the series I’m writing with daughter Clare so we’re each doing our final clean up and John is doing his final read through to tell us that the whole thing needs to be re-written.

3.         I have just received the copy edits for my next big stand-alone WHERE THE SKY BEGINS. They are due on Monday and I’m dealing with things like queries that say , “You said three miles from town. Shouldn’t that be kilometers?” Picture one of those cartoons with head blowing off steam.

So a certain amount of juggling is involved as I try to work through all three of the above while also juggling a request to write an article on Agatha Christie for an upcoming book, to write a piece on historical novels for an upcoming book etc etc. Ah for that peaceful garret! I have to add that John does bring me coffee.

So I thought I’d share a small snippet from the book I’m trying to write, the next Royal Spyness called something to do with Paris and fashion and murder and runway. Title suggestions please? Runway of Death, In the Paris Fashion, Dressed to Kill, etc etc.

Georgie is staying with Belinda but suspects her husband Darcy is on a dangerous mission in Paris. She is being taken up the Eiffel Tower by Belinda’s new beau, a French count.

We went across to the tower, paid our money and joined the line for the lift. The first lift took us to a broad platform. We walked around, taking in the view from all sides. Louis-Philippe was a good tour guide. He pointed out the gardens and fountains of the Trocadero on the other side of the river, the Arc de Triomph looking quite small and insignificant from this height. Then we followed the river to the Isle de la Cite, that tiny island in the middle of the Seine with its medieval looking fortress and the twin towers of Notre Dame. Louise-Philippe told me that no building in Paris is allowed to be built higher than the cathedral. He named gardens and parks, the impressive expanse of woodland that was the Bois de Bolougne and on the far side of the city a building with glistening white domes that even I knew was the Sacre Coeur on Montmartre. It was all quite breathtaking and somehow gratifying to know that monuments I had dreamed about really did exist and I was among them.

Then I looked down onto the Seine below us, the river busy with pleasure boats on a Sunday afternoon. On the quayside I spotted a man with a bald head, pouring over a large map. As I focused on him he approached a passing stranger, pointing at the map. The man stopped obligingly and also pointed out a route. The first man nodded thanks then set off.  The other man watched him for a moment before turning away.

                From this height it was impossible to see faces but I could have sworn that the man who gave the directions was Darcy.  Was he just being polite to a tourist or was this more? I tried to recall exactly what I had seen. Wasn’t there something about the man with the map that hinted at being German? Something about the cut of his jacket. Had he just pointed at the map, or had something passed between them? A small piece of paper? As if in answer to my question I saw two men who had been standing at the coffee kiosk on the quay move out of the shadow and set off after the man with the map.

So far so good. We've set up danger and conflicting missions. And I'm really enjoying spending time in Paris. But a title would be good. Any brilliant suggestions?