Miss Snark unsnarky . . .
Yesterday, Miss Snark (my guilty pleasure) posted this sad story, beginning:
A good guy was gunned down in the streets of Brooklyn two nights ago. He was a cop doing his job, chasing a guy who turned out to be armed, dangerous, and really stupid. The stupid guy lived. Officer Stewart, father of two, husband, brother, son, didn’t.
Which leads me to why I write suspense. It’s exactly what Miss Snark says . . . “Crime novels make sense of the carnage. There’s always a reason. There’s always a motivation. And there’s always a sense of justice.”
My cops are the good guys. They get the bad guys. Justice is served. The end. It’s fiction, which Officer Stewart’s murder sadly reminds us.
Under the heading We Can’t Make This Stuff Up . . .
Yesterday, a judge ruled that a man was not guilty of rape because he’d been sleeping.
A sleep expert testified at his trial that the man suffered from sexomnia, a sort of sleep walking that includes sexual acts, likely brought on by alcohol, sleep deprivation and genetics.
Apparently, he’s done this with his girlfriends in the past so this is now okay behavior? What’s next . . . “I’m sorry officer, I didn’t mean to stab my girlfriend to death, I was sleeping?”
However, I bet next season we see this on CSI . . .
26 days and counting . . .
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, that’s okay. You’ll hear more later.
And then she was done . . .
I have 21 more pages to review on my copyedits of The Kill and then the 480-some page manuscript will be overnighted back to NYC. It’s sitting here in front of me reminding me that I need to finish up. So I’ll sign off for now.