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What kind of writer am I?That’s an interesting question simply because I’m not sure what a writer is supposed to be like. Do some writers cloister themselves when they’re trying to get work done? I sure feel like doing that from time to time, especially when it seems people want your attention just at that moment you’ve decided to start writing. I know I’m definitely the kind of writer that hates distractions, and this is also to the point where I often prefer to write in abject silence. I’ve tried writing in the quiet and serenity of parks and lakes but, when my neck starts hurting from straining over my laptop, it’s then I realize I’d rather write with my laptop sitting on a desk or table. I’d say I’m a relatively disciplined writer in that I could sit at a desk for hours trying to get something right. It wouldn’t at all be unusual for me to sit from 7 PM to 6 AM trying to get something done. The research I often have to do necessitates that kind of discipline. In the past, I’ve had to take crash courses on Arkansas quartz mining, the Mossad in South America during the early 60’s, quantum physics and the possibilities of interdimensional travel, the history of shipwrecks in the Bermuda Triangle, the Mayan history of the Camazotz, Jain cosmology, the landscape of Bangladesh, and many others. Also, since I sometimes write stories where people speak languages other than English, I’ve had to study and write what someone would say who speaks German, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Vietnamese, the Native American language of the Lummi people, and several others. As far as my writing style is concerned, I’m a plotter. I sketch my stories out from beginning to end and use illustrations if necessary. Sometimes, I even do blocking. In the scriptwriting world, blocking refers to writing out a serious of action in detail. For instance, in the novella “Stranded in Paradise,” I’ve had to physically “block” the movements of five people who were on the bridge of a cruise ship in order to get the sequence of events right. Hopefully, no one saw me standing in my room by myself kicking, chopping, and slashing the air like Jet Li. That would’ve been odd!

No one ever “re-dies” in Heaven; unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened to singer Amy Winehouse. Her death, an unprecedented event in Heaven’s history, has thrown a once docile world into unfortunate chaos. Because of the new uneasy alliance between angels and citizens, a freshly-arrived detective in the rock & roll town has been tasked with investigating the prime suspects, the members of the 27 Club – Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison. To make matters worse, a powerful angel from one of the upper levels of Heaven will soon arrive to make her ten-year inspection, a task that fills the other angels with dread since she has the power to banish anyone of them to the underworld. So, with time running out, the PI and his newly acquired sidekick, both aided by rock legends such as Eddie Cochran, Mama Cass, Kurt Cobain, Karen Carpenter and others, must quickly uncover the mystery that threatens not only to close Heaven’s doors forever, but promises to send a ripple effect through the entire universe that can rip it apart.

Enjoy the Excerpt

Plants of varying shapes and sizes sprouted everywhere, some just knee high, some as tall as mango trees. Rows of narrow pipes across the ceiling misted the foliage every minute. A few customers were sampling some of the edible flowers while others were reading manuals or informational tags about the unusual plants. Towards the back, the good PI spotted an employee who was busy pulling off the dead leaves from several botanical specimens. The clerk, he noticed, was very colorful with her psychedelic bamboo slippers, purplish pants, flowery blue and white tunic, rows of bangles on each wrist, several beaded chains around her neck, and a pink strip of cloth enmeshed in her long brown hair. As Gregory neared her, he could hear her humming along to the music playing over the virtual speakers high up in the corners of the center.

“Excuse me,” he introduced himself, “I was told Janis Joplin works back here.”

The employee turned and glanced at him. “You found her, babe.”

“Hi, Janis,” the PI introduced himself. “I’m Gregory Angelicus. And…”

“Oh, Lord,” she moaned, flinging the twigs in her hand down. “Another angel. What’d I do now?”

“Oh, no,” he stated quickly, “I’m not an angel. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” she asked, eyeing the intruder with suspicion through her circular yellow sunglasses.

Gregory looked around momentarily. “Is there some place we can talk?”

“Sure,” she answered, crossing her arms. “You’re standing in it.”

About the Author: Robin Ray emigrated to the U.S. from Trinidad & Tobago at the ripe old age of 12. Already steeped in the rich culture and mysteries of his native land, it would only be a matter of time before he, too, became a musician and storyteller. After a short stint at Iowa State University, he became a nurse for practical purposes but never abandoned his musical and literary aspirations. Eventually, he did play guitar in several bands, committing himself to localized tours and album releases. Leaving the music world behind, he delved headfirst back into his second love – writing. To date, he has authored six screenplays, two novels, seven novellas, around fifty short stories and many poems. Thus far, he’s published six books – five fiction and one non-fiction, all available in paperback and e-book formats. His latest novel, Murder In Rock & Roll Heaven, can be purchased for only $0.99 at Amazon.

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