Paul White: My Guest Author this week is an Author and an Editor
Author and Editor of CQI online magazine is my guest this week
and here he is in his own words:
Tales of Crime & Violence,
Each story in this collection focuses on the characters, the people involved in the acts these stories reveal.
Whether they are the perpetrators, the victims or innocent bystanders caught in the maelstrom of the events,
we catch a glimpse, an understanding of their minds, their inner fears and wishes, the dreams, desires, doubts and
regrets they hold hidden within themselves.
Stories of robbery, murder, greed, and lust and more.
Tales of Crime and Violence ask questions of the participants and the reader;
‘The Phone Call’ examines the question of would you kill,
would you take another’s life to save your own family from almost certain death, and then asks how you would live with yourself after the event, whichever decision you made.
‘Silly Cow’ looks at how running from our perceived fears could lead to our own untimely death, while
‘The Arrangement’ gives a deep and harsh insight into the widespread and destructive effects forced arranged marriage can have on entire families and beyond.
Whatever you expect from great crime fiction, you will find it here,
in Tales of Crime & Violence, but woven around each tale is the deeper inspection of the human psyche.
About Paul White
Paul says he has been writing “forever.”
He lays claim to being first ‘published’ in 1963, at the age of six, when his poem, ‘Angel of Death’ was printed in the annual school magazine.
At around ten years of age, Paul acquired his mother’s electronic typewriter and started to write poetry and short stories. He continued to write in earnest through his teenage years, having several stories and articles appear in national magazines.
“I love everything about writing,” he says, “the excitement of twisting and melding words is akin to a blacksmith forming red-hot metals or a glass-blower twisting molten, semi-liquid glass into intricate shapes. It is what I term as genuine ‘wordsmithing’.”
After serving in the Royal Navy, Paul worked in the print magazine publishing industry in London, England, before moving ‘North’ to Yorkshire and running his own business for over ten years.
Since ‘retiring’ Paul has “never been so busy writing”. He now has some twenty books under his belt with several more ‘in the pipeline’.
Paul is a founder member of the Authors Professional Co-Operative, Chief Editor of CQI Magazine and founder of Electric Eclectic, a promotional brand directed at indie author promotion and marketing.
A ‘Southerner’ by birth, he moved to the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, about thirty years ago. He says, “In another thirty years I may no longer be considered a newcomer.”
Paul is a prolific storyteller, wordsmith, tale weaver, a multi-genre writer of fiction, semi-fiction and non-fiction. He has published several books, from full-length novels to short story collections, poetry, children’s books, semi-fiction and military social history. Oh, he is also an Amazon international bestselling author.
You can find more about Paul’s books, current works-in-progress, artworks and other projects, by visiting his website: http://bit.ly/paulswebsite
An excerpt from ‘I Never Eat the Crusts’, Volume
three, Tales of Crime & Violence.
I shall never forget the sound. I do not mean the gunshot, but the sound that followed it. A combination of a pop and a crack, like splitting a coconut with a sledgehammer, which I suppose it was, in a way. Then there was the smell. The rich iron scent of fresh blood mixed with the drifting aroma of cordite.
As I looked at the mess of blood, brain and bone splattered over the wall, combined with those odours wafting on the light breeze coming into the room through the open window, I could not help but recall the words “I love the smell of Napalm in the morning”.
I have no idea why that particular phrase echoed in my mind, but it did. It was the first time, the only time I have seen somebody blow their own brains out.
As I stood transfixed at witnessing such a macabre scene, each stage began to replay itself in my head, it was like a slow-motion playback.The way he slammed the phone down. The casual way he lit the cigarette, tossing the lighter onto the desk and picking up the gun in one seamless, smooth movement. Lifting the pistol to his temple and… bang.
That was it.
He was dead.
There was not a hint of hesitation, not a single millisecond of indecision.
It all happened so fast; even as the images replayed in my mind, over and again, the blood continued running down the walls. Fragments of grey cerebral tissue slowly sliding, like grotesquely twisted slugs crawling earthwards.
Even the smoke from the muzzle of his pistol had not dissipated….
BARNES & NOBLE