AUTHOR’S CORNER Snakebird: The Texan Ring. What When Where How and Why?
Good afternoon campbellsworld visitors and book lovers everywhere.
This afternoon author David Cousland has dropped by to answer the questions many readers have about the authors they read and their books.
Why did you write this book? How did you come up with it and What was your inspiration?
I invite and encourage you to read this magnificent offering David has so generously shared with us today. When you’ve finished, keep reading to learn how you can buy it and all his most incredible work.
Thanks for stopping by the Author’s Corner and come again soon. You just never know who might drop by for a visit.
I guess the inspiration for this story came from the ‘Road’ movies of decades ago. I didn’t want the handsome billionaire who can get whatever or whoever he wants and has his pick of any number of beautiful, sexy women, so what do I do?
I chose and created a guy (Will Marshall) who is as down and low as he could be, no cash, no food, no job, no girl and little of anything else but bad luck. The only thing he values is his Corvette ‘Queenie’. Queenie was rescued from a wreckers yard (scrap yard) and rebuilt with whatever he could use to get the work done.
Will was sitting alone having lost his job earlier in the day with the remains of his drink when she walked into the bar and sat behind him with a guy. They had no idea he was there as he watched her reflection and was immediately in lust (not love) with her. He hears this guy talking and her cowering and jumps to a conclusion which draws him into a world that he could never imagine even existing.
I wanted my character to experience the worse things he could ever have the misfortune to feel, see and hear. Locked up in jail on a double murder charge, beaten by an evil deputy and many others as the story develops but he finds and keeps a computer flash drive. He doesn’t have a clue what it is but he knows he has to keep it.
In time he discovers secrets that Sherry would wish to keep and his former girlfriend finds him and comes to his rescue while getting caught up in this tangled evil web. Of course there had to be a girlfriend but what is Sherry to him?
I’ve never been to Texas or Florida but the settings for this story called for me to use them.
All I need now is for Hollywood to take a look and make the movie … I wish.
Below is the first section of my story, I hope it draws you in to this ugly world.
Thank you for reading
Section from Snakebird
Will Marshall sat in the end booth at the Red Dragster Bar, alone save for an empty beer glass and his bourbon chaser. He’d been there for a couple of hours, his head full of Coors, Jack Daniels and God-forsaken self-pity. The early evening continued its steady slide into an alcoholic oblivion until he watched her glide across the room, his eyes struggled to stay fixed on this vision, “if only,” he thought to himself.
The half glass of bourbon turned slowly in his fingers, held to his lips as it had been for some minutes. His tongue traced around the rim of the glass as the lukewarm liquid slowly slipped into his mouth.
Will had seen them enter the bar, watching their reflection in a glass door, the guy acknowledged a “good evening” from the barman while she looked and spoke to no one. She looked like a movie star, tall, stunning, a slim but hour glass body, long dancer’s legs, dark brown hair with hints of blonde, perfectly applied make-up, an unusual, azure blue lip gloss that just invited a long, long kiss. Her body decorated with a calf length, figure hugging dark blue dress and black velvet choker but strangely not a hint of jewellery. But then there was him, holding tightly onto her arm, leading and guiding her towards their booth. She gritted her teeth barely able to force even a hint of a smile and looked in pain as he pulled her forcibly to the seat alongside him. The guy – him in a tux, somewhat older, maybe even fifty, not as tall as she was, sunglasses, skinny and balding, but obviously wealthy by the look of his clothes, boots and watch.
Will looked him up and down quickly before flicking his eyes back to the vision at his side. She seemed to be struggling to free herself from his grip, his fingers tight around her upper arm, just above the elbow. He only released her as he slid to the seat.
“Fucking bully, you’re not good enough for her and wouldn’t have a clue how to treat her.” Will thought.
He shook himself as he watched her bend, no doubt this move had been rehearsed and perfected a million times. His eyes desperately tried to focus clearly as her bending backside pulled the light material tight across her bottom, the muscles at the back of her legs tensed as she moved. Will leaned to one side, straining his neck as she took up her seat in the booth directly behind him, following the skinny guy into their seats. Will could smell her perfume, his nostrils widened as he inhaled deeply, taking in her intoxicating aroma. Another deep breath and his eyes closed for a moment, dreaming of what she might feel like, taste like, kiss like, his fingers on her pale, silky-smooth skin, taking the last piece of clothing from her body. His senses already aroused, he tried to concentrate, to listen to her voice and hear every word they spoke. As far as he could tell, they had no idea that he was even there.
Just a few sentences from the guy’s mouth and Will had his mind made up. Within seconds he knew that she deserved better, much better. The guy was one of life’s takers giving nothing in return, every word he said confirmed Will’s thoughts. He wouldn’t care for her, or about her. He wouldn’t even care if she didn’t exist, she could be replaced with no trouble at all.
Another swig of the bourbon made little difference, any thoughts he was capable of having were churning and churning in the mire that doubled as his mind. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to keep quiet and stay calm. He listened intently for no more than five minutes to every word coming from the adjacent booth, every sentence from the guy’s arrogant, over-bearing mouth while every timidly spoken reply of hers wound him up a little tighter.
She must have been almost in tears at his torrent of bullying and abuse and so obviously afraid to disagree. Will sensed her cowering at his side, as a child taking a beating might behave.
“Understand me Sherry and understand me good or else, you got that?”
“Yes master, I will master, I’ll do whatever you say, wear whatever you like master, go with whoever you order without question.”
“Damn right, you will Sherry. You will do exactly as I say, and you will accept your punishment for disobeying this morning. Without question, precisely as you just said. Your failure to do exactly as instructed let me down badly. You do not choose, I do, is that understood? You’ll get no more warnings, your punishment will be severe.”
Those were the last words Will heard before he snapped.
His fist was clenched so tight the glass smashed in his fingers as he thudded his hand hard down to the table top. He jumped up from his seat, threw the remains of the glass from his bloodied hand, turned swiftly and stood on his seat. Will’s reddening fist grabbed the guy by his collar and tie, lifted and pulled him backwards until he was bent backwards over the top of the booth’s high leather seating. A heavy punch from the free hand, a second, third and fourth as the other hand tightened the grip on his collar. The fist was like a hammer to the unprotected head, beating him to a pulp. One punch after another rained down into his swiftly disfiguring face. Blood pouring from the broken nose, “the master’s” lips were cut and gushing and his left eye almost closed, he was completely defenseless, his arms waving around like a broken windmill, legs kicking in panic like a drowning man.
About the author in his own words…
Born in the industrial Midlands in 1950, I was educated at Dudley Grammar School (to the best of their abilities) before going on to work in the banking industry, the latter years working on very exciting plastic card payment schemes. Married (twice) with two daughters and three grand-children, my hobbies outside of the family and writing include golf and travel, occasionally combining the two when searching for golf balls that have strayed way off line. A number of my stories are based around places I’ve been fortunate to visit and love including them whenever I can.
I first started writing at the tender age of 62 and have now published 15 e-books and short stories. I particularly enjoy writing in the first person, which has been a bit of a challenge as the majority of my stronger characters are women. I write for pleasure and hope you enjoy reading my stories.
Currently I’m working on my first sci-fi story and also a horror story aimed at the young adult market. Never having previously attempted to write anything in the fantasy / sci-fi genres and very little in the horror sector– this is a case of fingers crossed and hope for the best, although I do have a number of ‘expert volunteers’ keen to read the horror story.
Books by David Cousland.
1) Overture for Revenge 01/23/13
2) Face of the Viking 14/03/13
3) Snake Eyes Allison 06/10/13
4) The Faces of Ashwood Court 08/04/13
5) The Wrong Man’s Ring 11/02/13
6) Scent of the Dragon Queen 04/01/14
7) The Michelangelo Legacy 03/22/14
8) Black Country Murders 10/15/14
9) I Don’t Drink Decaf 12/27/14
10) Sarah Marshall’s Double Quest 02/21/15
11) The Water Carrier 09/09/15
12) Anastas and the Black Rose 21/07/16
13) Barclay’s Losing Hand 20/09/16
14) Carnage at Clifton Court 09/08/17
15) Snakebird: The Texan Ring 02/01/18