A criminal mind

I haven't got the head for crime. Stomach, sure - I've been watching CSI over dinner for years. And the heart, certainly: Castle, The Mentalist, Poirot, Sherlock are amongst my firm favourites. But the brain-juice? Not so much. I just finished Jeffrey Deaver's latest Lincoln Rhyme novel "The Burning Wire". Deaver's a genius and I've loved every single one of this series. But, once again, I couldn't see the twist coming. Or the second twist. Or the final twist. Or the one after that (and that may not look logical but, trust me, it is truth - the man's RELENTLESS with the TWISTS). I NEVER see it coming. I can never get the bad guy. Once or twice, I've guessed it. That's from watching about twelve seasons of CSI: Anyville, the above-mentioned shows, and numerous crime novels. Once. Or twice. Maybe three times tops. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Congratulations, you might say, the girl gets the fun and horror of surprise from every...
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Why flatmates are disastrous and necessary to writing

I currently have three flatmates. We are all young women with the same day job (only I turn into a pumpkin in the evening). And they are a nightmare. They want to watch endless reruns of Friends. They tempt me into eating takeaway. One gossips constantly about celebrities. One simply cannot leave work at work. One hates chick flicks and another hates action movies. They are very sociable and worry when I'm out of the room for more than half an hour, which makes my writing targets pretty difficult to meet. But they're fantastic. They love going to the cinema. They have unique speech patterns, backgrounds and quirks. Two have boyfriends and one is single, looking - and that all comes with its own drama. They love to go out to eat. We gossip about our colleagues, our mutual friends, our other friends and come up with our own spin on the rumour mill. It's like having a character factory in my living room. The problem...
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