When two vacationers are reported missing in a sailing accident at a Mediterranean island, their four friends back in London decide to investigate.As told by the unnamed fourth member of the investigative expedition, this is a light-hearted and amorous odyssey featuring friends Roderick, Greta, and Diane as they go in search of answers. Each has theories about what happened, drawn from past romantic attachments with the missing and fond reminiscing.
Their voyage of discovery leads to island exploration and a climactic bacchanal in an old fortress. Could jealousy be a motive in the disappearance, as Roderick suspects? Has Anton, the youthful initiate into romance, rejected the advances of his two more experienced companions? Or does the island have still more to reveal?
Can you, for those who don't know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?
Influenced by my mother’s devotion to language and literature, I had pretty much settled for the writing life by the time I left school. I started as a newspaper reporter in southern England, but it took a while for me to develop ideas for fiction.
How did you come up with name of this book?
A process of elimination. I wanted a title that reflected the search for missing friends that is a key element in the plot. So it was a case of doing keyword searches and seeing what ideas had already been used. As you might expect, a lot of word combinations are already in use. I’m pleased with the title I came up with. I think it’s distinctive and represents the story well. I hope readers agree.
What did you edit out of this book?
You can probably guess! Like countless writers before me, I changed names, although there are only a handful of people who could guess whom my characters were very loosely based upon. Other than that, fictitious embellishment is mixed with incidents the way I wish they had really been.
Who designed your book covers?
For this one – me, sort of. I’d been saving an image from an online catalog. All it needed was a change in the coloring, which the publisher’s staff duly supplied. Purple is the favorite color of one of the characters. Nails. Lips. Clothes — some of them anyway. So the face on the cover traded in her rosy sheen accordingly. The costumed look makes sense later in the story.
Tell us about a favorite character from this book:
Sometimes a character assumes iconic stature in an author’s mind from the outset. Such was the case with Klara. She’s charismatic, self-assured to a fault, and once experienced she’s never going to fade out of the picture — even if she’s reported missing.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Let me think about that for a while – before I commit to paper or screen.
What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?
I find one interesting approach to this is to use characters to speculate about other characters that are difficult to define or explore. As a writer I may find it hard to describe the inner workings of a particular character, but I may be able to make judgments as seen through the eyes of others. That leaves open the option of confirming or refuting those judgments in further developments in the story.
If you could have been the author of any book ever written, which book would you choose?
The Bible. Think of the royalties.
What do you think about the current publishing market?
Bewildering. Never have so many writers chased so many publishing opportunities. Just about anyone who finishes a book can find a way to get it into print. That’s good for self-expression. On the other hand, it means quality control is not what it used to be under the tighter control of the traditional presses. And now there’s the additional challenge of AI-created works. Whether independent publishers, especially in the fiction category, can hold their own remains to be seen. Without them, our reading choices would suffer.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
I have. One is waiting for a response from a publisher. Another couple are needing illustrators. Still others need revision or at least a read through before republishing. I don’t think I’m alone in neglecting the promo and marketing necessities in my desire to write. The result may be that I will take masterpieces to the grave with me, and thus forfeit my rightful due to be hailed as the modern Homer.
Advice you would give new authors?
Read analytically. Experience life. Observe those around you. Rome wasn’t build in a day; don’t expect writing to be otherwise.
Influenced by my mother’s devotion to language and literature, I had pretty much settled for the writing life by the time I left school. I started as a newspaper reporter in southern England, but it took a while for me to develop ideas for fiction.
How did you come up with name of this book?
A process of elimination. I wanted a title that reflected the search for missing friends that is a key element in the plot. So it was a case of doing keyword searches and seeing what ideas had already been used. As you might expect, a lot of word combinations are already in use. I’m pleased with the title I came up with. I think it’s distinctive and represents the story well. I hope readers agree.
What did you edit out of this book?
You can probably guess! Like countless writers before me, I changed names, although there are only a handful of people who could guess whom my characters were very loosely based upon. Other than that, fictitious embellishment is mixed with incidents the way I wish they had really been.
Who designed your book covers?
For this one – me, sort of. I’d been saving an image from an online catalog. All it needed was a change in the coloring, which the publisher’s staff duly supplied. Purple is the favorite color of one of the characters. Nails. Lips. Clothes — some of them anyway. So the face on the cover traded in her rosy sheen accordingly. The costumed look makes sense later in the story.
Tell us about a favorite character from this book:
Sometimes a character assumes iconic stature in an author’s mind from the outset. Such was the case with Klara. She’s charismatic, self-assured to a fault, and once experienced she’s never going to fade out of the picture — even if she’s reported missing.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Let me think about that for a while – before I commit to paper or screen.
What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?
I find one interesting approach to this is to use characters to speculate about other characters that are difficult to define or explore. As a writer I may find it hard to describe the inner workings of a particular character, but I may be able to make judgments as seen through the eyes of others. That leaves open the option of confirming or refuting those judgments in further developments in the story.
If you could have been the author of any book ever written, which book would you choose?
The Bible. Think of the royalties.
What do you think about the current publishing market?
Bewildering. Never have so many writers chased so many publishing opportunities. Just about anyone who finishes a book can find a way to get it into print. That’s good for self-expression. On the other hand, it means quality control is not what it used to be under the tighter control of the traditional presses. And now there’s the additional challenge of AI-created works. Whether independent publishers, especially in the fiction category, can hold their own remains to be seen. Without them, our reading choices would suffer.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
I have. One is waiting for a response from a publisher. Another couple are needing illustrators. Still others need revision or at least a read through before republishing. I don’t think I’m alone in neglecting the promo and marketing necessities in my desire to write. The result may be that I will take masterpieces to the grave with me, and thus forfeit my rightful due to be hailed as the modern Homer.
Advice you would give new authors?
Read analytically. Experience life. Observe those around you. Rome wasn’t build in a day; don’t expect writing to be otherwise.
I will always remember my bedroom at that hotel, but not for any aspect of the sparse furnishings and plain walls. The appeal began with the rectangle of night sky that I surveyed from my bed once the French doors were pushed open and the shutters pinned back.
Calmness permeated that place to an extent that I, a city dweller, had rarely experienced. Outside, the pool and surrounding deck were chopped into still, angular shapes by the light of the moon. The white noise of the tide was the soundtrack of my wine-induced haze, that and the rustle of leaves in what remained of the day’s wind.
Then, as I lay there that night, there came the slight blips of approaching feet. Pebbles were dislodged and there was the light slap of soles on pavement, followed by the scratch of branches on clothing as feet descended into the patio outside my room.
I guessed who to expect before his outline eclipsed my view. To be honest, I was in two minds. A visitation for a second night running seemed a bit of an imposition. On the other hand, the initial experience had not been unpleasant. Much of it, as already mentioned, had merged with my dreams, so that I had woken up that morning unsure whether my passions might have been triggered by some auto-erotic fantasy.
Sitting up in bed, I prepared myself to speak.
“Look, I don’t think we should do this again,” I was going to say. It sounded feeble even as I concocted my challenge to him. What was the harm? No one need know…
Calmness permeated that place to an extent that I, a city dweller, had rarely experienced. Outside, the pool and surrounding deck were chopped into still, angular shapes by the light of the moon. The white noise of the tide was the soundtrack of my wine-induced haze, that and the rustle of leaves in what remained of the day’s wind.
Then, as I lay there that night, there came the slight blips of approaching feet. Pebbles were dislodged and there was the light slap of soles on pavement, followed by the scratch of branches on clothing as feet descended into the patio outside my room.
I guessed who to expect before his outline eclipsed my view. To be honest, I was in two minds. A visitation for a second night running seemed a bit of an imposition. On the other hand, the initial experience had not been unpleasant. Much of it, as already mentioned, had merged with my dreams, so that I had woken up that morning unsure whether my passions might have been triggered by some auto-erotic fantasy.
Sitting up in bed, I prepared myself to speak.
“Look, I don’t think we should do this again,” I was going to say. It sounded feeble even as I concocted my challenge to him. What was the harm? No one need know…
A.L. Means grew up in Britain and has lived in or near Phoenix, Arizona, for over 30 years. He has authored fiction and nonfiction in various genres, using different pen names, and has spent much of his working life as a journalist for magazines and newspapers.As Andrew Means, he has written biographies of novelist and essayist George Orwell and the rock group Pink Floyd as well as Some Memories, a memoir about the childhood of the late Country-Western singer Marty Robbins, who lived in the Phoenix area before and after World War Two.
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