I received a compliment from a new reader last week. Well, I think it was a compliment, anyway. She came up to me in my favourite local cafe, stared hard and said, “I thought I knew you. I thought I knew what you were like.” There was a pause and she added, “Now every time I see a dead chicken, I think of you.”
If you’ve read “Death of the Elver Man”, you probably have an inkling of what she means. If you haven’t, well I’m not going to put any spoilers on here, just say I thought I was making it LESS gory. So much for all the psychology I studied.
It is a strange feeling, to know someone or something you made up is living and talking in someone else’s mind. Strange and really rather wonderful. No wonder I love my job.