At the end of the intro my editor told me that we should, and by that he meant I should: describe my detective instead of going on a wild mad and fun to write chase scene. I tyred to convince him that to describe the detective would ruin the immerse feeling the reader had. I mean 'I wouldn't be able to imagine myself as ugly and you wouldn't be able to imagine yourself as handsome.' I reasoned with the misshapen nosed bastard. He seamed to take this the wrong way and after a heated argument about his hideous visage and the fact that his wife isn't that bad to look at, he threw me out via the educationally crippled security men.
Whilst dusting myself off and descrity giving the finger to said security mans back, i hit upon a brainwave.
'What if i don't describe my detective but rather do something better?'
With this in mind i set about on my task.
But unfortunately making a page in my book out of glass was 'unrealistic' and 'stupid'. Which just goes to show how damn narrow minded my editors wife can be. Makes me wounder why I bother going round to see her at all. But then again, she does have a terrific rack.
So we are back where we started. In the dingy bathroom with a corpse. A place I know we've been many times before and will be again.
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