For the next twelve months, I will be using the main page in this blog for many a fun and lighthearted post. But I will also be using it to run a race. The finish line is the publication of my new novel, VIENNA set for 2015. VIENNA is a contemporary mystery centered on a world-famous fashion model named Justine Am, and a world-class social outcast named Vienna. As for the race, the rules are simple: I have to pique your curiosity in Justine and Vienna enough that you’ll give their story a read when it comes out. The starting line is the picture to the left. The first step goes like this:
In the heart of Brussels Belgium, there sits a 19th century mall called the Galleries St. Hubert. It was near the entrance to St. Hubert that my wife, Kathryn, and I came across two young women at that delicate stage of romance where merely holding hands is enough. You know the drill: Lots of blushing coupled with an utter disregard for anything happening in the mundane world. You also know how important this moment is. Throughout life, there may be many chances for sex, but precious few moments of delirium caused by the simple touch of hands.
The image of these two women became glued to my memories of Belgium. It wasn’t a matter of their beauty, though to my eye both possessed more than a fair share. It was a question of how they had ended up together on a perfect summer’s eve in Brussels, backlit by copper twilight and looking very much like an expensive perfume ad. There had to be a story there. As intruding into their world was out of the question I had no alternative but to write a story for them.
So here we have a young lady named Vienna, walking down the Galleries St. Hubert on a beautiful evening in Brussels. She can’t be a local as she would sound foolish conversing in my elementary school French. Best make her speak English. In fact, make her a Londoner. We don’t as yet know anything else about her. But we know where she is and where she comes from, and that’s a start…
A few turns and she entered the Galleries Saint Hubert. Vienna loved the spider web of iron and glass that covered the long plaza, hung from the heavens with spectral grace.