Sunday, April 10, 2011

Remix - Lexi Revellian

Ric Kealey is the charismatic lead singer of über-successful band, The Voices in my Head – and he died three years ago. Caz Tallis restores rocking horses in her London studio. When Ric turns up, shabby and alive, on Caz’s roof terrace, she is reluctantly drawn into investigating the murder that led him to fake his own death.

What will readers like about your book?
Remix is a real page turner – I’m proud to report it’s kept readers up till four in the morning. It’s also feel-good, with believable characters, twists and turns in the plot, and a satisfying ending.

Why did you self publish?
I gave myself a year to get an agent. A handful liked it, but weren’t sure they could sell it to a publisher. Two asked me to send them my next book. At the end of the year, I gritted my teeth and self-published; I’ve sold more than 18,500 so far, so it was the right decision.

What is your writing process?
I have a What If? idea, mull it over, and write a load of notes about characters, scenes and the ending - the ending is vital, so I know where I am heading.Then I start writing and make it up as I go along. I edit each chapter as I finish it, so the first draft is pretty polished. After reading the whole thing aloud, and editing, it goes to ten or so beta readers, and I tweak the book in the light of their comments.

How long does it take you to write your first draft?
About a year of my spare time – but as I said, my first drafts are nearly ready for publication.

What inspired you to write this particular story?
What if a young woman went on to her roof terrace and found a sleeping stranger and his dog? Who is he, why is he there, and what happens next? I wrote the novel to find out.


I thought of the murder mysteries I had read; not many, just tatty old paperbacks my mother had; Dick Francis, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett…their heroes went round asking questions, putting information together, and getting hit over the head by the villains, which was a good thing, if painful, as it meant they were getting close to the truth. Ric could not do this. He’d be recognized.
“Are you going to the police like you told Phil?”
“If I turn myself in, they won’t investigate. Why should they? I need to give them evidence it was someone else.”
“How? If you go round interviewing witnesses and suspects it may just occur to them you’re not dead…”
“You’re right, I can’t do it.” I could feel his eyes on me. “But you could, Caz.”
“I could not.”
“You can say you’re a journalist writing a book about the Orr murder.”
“No.” I wanted to make myself absolutely clear on this one. “Ric, you are looking at the worst liar in England. Probably the world. I’d give myself away before I got through the door. I’m not doing it.”
“I’ll tell you what to say. You can record the interviews and I’ll know when they were lying.”
“No. Seriously bad idea. Anyway, I can’t afford the time. I have to earn my living.”
He gave me a long look, and said no more for the rest of the drive.


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