You know, sometimes the muse-I-don’t-believe-in does weird things. I have a habit of waking up around 2-3am at night. I lie awake for an hour or so stewing over anything and everything that ever happened in my life, probably get up for a pee and a glass of water, then go back to sleep to a more respectable time. And THAT time is when I dream. I don’t dream very often, mind. At least, not dreams I remember, and when I do I can usually work out where the weirdness came from.
But a while ago I dreamed about this admiral and a woman. Neither of them had names, but they had some sort of history – she had been in Fleet – and they met again in very different circumstances. A restaurant, fireworks… A glimpse of a story. So I abandoned my current WIP for now (I’ll go back to it) and did some work on this new story while the creative juices were flowing.
The woman became Ella Bulich, the admiral became Goran Chandler – and the events actually didn’t borrow anything from the dreadful events in Nice. I wrote the story before that appalling massacre. It was a weird feeling reading about the terrorist attack. My story isn’t the same – but there are fireworks at an anniversary.
So there you have it. A bit of prescience? I very much hope not.
Ella and the Admiral
When Admiral Goran Chandler suddenly turns up in Ella’s restaurant her comfortable world is thrown into turmoil. Ten years ago he’d been a senior commander, and captain of the frigate Antelope. She had been Lieutenant Bulich then, and he’d kicked her off his ship.
With unexpected danger threatening, and a killer stalking the corridors of the Hotel Majestic, Ella and the admiral must work together to escape with their lives before they can consider the events of ten years ago, and what they mean now.
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You can find out more about Greta, by reading one of her other posts here on Why They Wrote. (She’s traveling around Australia right now, how cool is that?)
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Perilously yours,
Pauline