Uninvited, but more welcome than a cold shower on a stinking hot day in Melbourne, my muse has reappeared.

As usual, she came from nowhere and without a prompt.

I was merely taking s stroll (or perhaps I should say ‘we’) to combat inertia, mental as well as physical.

And there she was, whispering seductive sweet nothings in my ear. Or rather sweet somethings, for her words were almost the complete package – setting, characters, plot-line and even some snippets of dialogue.

“So good to hear from you,” I whispered, unwilling to be seen as one of those oddities who walks the streets having loud conversations with invisible callers into  the little spigot of plastic inserted into their ear. “It’s been a while.”

Quite a while. Far too long. Frustratingly so.

Many months have passed  since the final words were  to  Death Comes By Drone, the most recent (and fifth) in my series of crime fiction  novels featuring reluctant sleuth Bromo Perkins. Since then, the creative cells have lain dormant. Unstimulated to such an extent that on several occasions I have said “That’s it. No more.”

And regardless of the urgings and pleas from loyal readers (there are some) nothing could rouse them from their deep sleep.

So, here we are, ready to launch into the new year with  further chronicling of Bromo’s deeds and misdeeds.

Watch this space.

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