A story at bedtime

I'm a man of habit. I like routine. Not in every department of my life, but certainly when it's time for bed. Things I like: to read for a while, peace and quiet, warmth, order in the bedroom - stuff tidied away (mostly). Things I don't like: water tapping on outside ledges when it rains, the whirr of the tumble drier down in the garage, blinking lights of things charging (phones, electric toothbrush, batteries, etc). So far - so nothing remarkable.

Teeth are always cleaned. Last squeeze of the bladder and then I turn into bed. Fortunately I don't take any time at all to nod off. I confess, I do tend to wake up many times though during the night to consult my watch. The prospect of being woken by an alarm fills me with dread terror. Luckily, insomnia is an enemy I haven't had to face for a long time. And I haven't heard 'The Hum' for many, many years. All's good. All's well.

But my routine involves one extra thing: before I let my consciousness bleach out for the night, I try to come up with a new story scenario, or work on one I already have on the go. I like to see it play out in my imagination. Rarely - extremely rarely, I'll get an insight into a new possibility or advance further in the narrative than I did before. To be honest, I'd probably be better off sitting and confronting the void (see previous post) than battling against the tides of fatigue and my inclination to sleep.

So what have I come up with recently?

Like a lot of writers, I'm in awe the success of Messrs Grant (Lee and Andrew Child). Jack Reacher is a perfect creation and the books are eminently readable and enjoyable. Non-putdownable page turners of the highest order. And they're symptomatic of the enduring popularity of the crime genre. I don't have the stats, but I'd make a good guess that crime and romance are the two runaway leaders for fiction. I would imagine sci-fi, horror and fantasy to trail behind the pack. Note to self: find out if this is indeed the case.

So, my difficulty is in imagining the act of popping a toe into the waters of these genres. Romance isn't really an option for me. I don't read it. Before you shake your heads, I did actually read The Bridges of Madison County, so that counts I guess. It was written by a bloke, Robert Waller - for some reason, I recall Kincaid. Maybe this was a pen name. So men can do a good job. The other option is crime. I do think I could write a crime novel. I'm shifty enough (I hope!). I do though baulk at the prospect of penning yet another detective novel with the inevitable trundling though of all the tropes of a police procedural, even if it's what readers want and expect. I did work in the criminal justice system for a year, so I reckon I could have a go. Jack Reacher as a creation comes back to me over and over. There's so much mileage in the character. Back stories. Mythology. Unparalleled powers of reasoning. Expertise in ultraviolence. No ties. The Knight Errant in modern America. I do like that synthesis of civil investigator, military strategist and final moral arbiter.

But it's been done. And done. And done some more.

At present, when I close my eyes I see a military musician in dire straits in a country like Southern Sudan. She's on loan to a regiment which is peacekeeping. A unit is taken hostage. She's also taken. Luckily for us, she has a backstory. She didn't take her soldiering seriously until an attack early on in her career. Subsequently she's practised killing and maiming with the same relish she had for her instrument. This she does for hours without fail. When she fights, despite the fear, she executes her muscle ingrained muscle memory. Fighting is like music - notes to be played with a little improv thrown in. She's diminutive and wiry. Easily passed over.

So if you've fallen asleep, I'm not gong to grumble. Only, please, don't nod off if I ever get to complete the novel version.