Confessions of a serial killer

I’ve killed another of my babies. Before you call the cops and turn me in–again–I should point out that I am only a literary murderer, not a literal one. The creation I am talking about is one of my favourite characters in the Alex Cohen series and yesterday I wrote their death scene. And it made me sad.

I have known what was going to happen since I first introduced them in The Bowery Slugger but nothing prepared me for how I would feel now they are gone. Of course, this is a metaphorical loss and there are far too many people experiencing genuine grief with or without the pandemic. I am not pretending to steal their pain.

But I didn’t realize how much I cared until this character was no more. I’ve already tried to think up spin-off stories for them to have their own series, although I think it very unlikely they will ever see the light of day.

So when you get halfway through Casino Chiseler–when it comes out towards the end of the year–and bullets fly, know it gave me no pleasure to kill this person. And the vengeance was all mine.

Leo