A Book?

“You’re writing a book?”

Yes, how about that? It all started early one Sunday morning about a year ago—I was sitting in bed with a nice hot cup of tea (strong, English, with milk) and I cracked open a mystery by a writer who was new to me. After a couple of pages I thought to myself “Sh…, I can do better than this! But what should I write about?” Thinking it over, I decided to write a mystery based in the world of jazz music. After all, I was raised in that world, my parents took me to jazz clubs in England when I was a toddler—I remember sitting under the (raised!) lid of the grand piano, safely out of harm’s way from the stomping feet, my eyes pouring with tears from all the cigarette smoke. It was the late ’40’s, say no more!

Where was I…?

Oh yeah, so I thought about it for a bit, threw on a bathrobe and went down to the computer. It was about 10 AM… Next thing I knew it was 4 PM and I had finished the first chapter—here’s a snippet:

THE IONIAN INCIDENT (A MAJOR CATASTROPHE)

CHAPTER ONE

The phone rang, breaking his concentration. Three times in as many minutes—what was wrong with leaving a message? He tried to ignore it, continuing to work his way down the page.
Why couldn’t she answer it? Probably had the stereo on too loud…
Silence at last.
Then the muffled sounds of Cuban music rang out from under a pile of paper on the desk.
God dammit!
Tony reached out to uncover his cellphone—he looked at the little screen and recognized the number. Of all the people he knew, why was he calling at this time?
“He knows I always practice in the morning, what’s so important?” he muttered,  pressing the speak button.
“What’s up…?”

Tony had not slept too well, and had woken up with a slight headache—as he walked to the kitchen he flexed his fingers and rotated his wrists to ease the stiffness in his hands.
“Oh man! are you getting old, or what?” he thought. He savored his first cup of the morning—tea, English, strong, with milk. Although he normally didn’t take sugar, he added a dash for energy.
“It’s kinda cold this morning,” he said out loud, as if to validate the choice. He pressed the hot cup against his forehead in an effort to get some relief, sat down on his stool and contemplated his daily practice routine—he had some new exercises to try out.…