It is my absolute pleasure today to be hosting the blog tour for the new release by James Hazel, The Mayfly. I have a guest post from James to share with you in just a moment, but first of all, here is what James’ book is all about.
The Official Book Blurb
A mutilated body discovered in the woods.
A murderous plan conceived in the past.
A reckoning seventy years in the making . . .
When lawyer Charlie Priest is attacked in his own home by a man searching for information he claims Priest has, he is drawn into a web of corruption that has its roots in the last desperate days of World War Two.
When his attacker is found murdered the next day, Priest becomes a suspect and the only way to clear his name is to find out about the mysterious House of Mayfly – a secret society that people will kill for.
As Priest races to uncover the truth, can he prevent history from repeating itself?
James Hazel: a day in the life
The daylight glares through the Velux blinds so intensely it seems as though the sun’s inner core has parked right outside of the house.
I can’t open my eyes because a wax-like crusty substance has sealed them shut. I recall that mum used to call it ‘fairy-dust’, but it’s more like industrial cement. There’s a shower on somewhere; I can hear the pump humming from the hallway. Either that or my head is about to explode.
Then the real horror dawns on me.
It’s my turn to make the tea.
Okay, fine. To you, it’s just getting up. To me, it’s like an outtake from The Walking Dead. So that’s the first note-worthy point: I’m not good at mornings. Or afternoons. I really come in to my own in the early evening and that’s about it.
There’s three kids in the house that I’m aware of. Olli – a strapping eighteen-year-old with shoulders as broad as an ironclad warship. He wears a guitar on his back and reminds me of the Gorilla from Sing. I used to be his role model but now it’s kind of weirdly the other way around.
Then there’s Grace – a bright-eyed sixteen-year-old who was previously a sack of confused hormones but who has recently metamorphosed into a model, although the exact point at which that happened passed me by. I think it was a Tuesday, though.
Finally, there’s Archie, a bundle of breath-taking energy. At five years’ old he’s like a little human sponge, soaking up everything, including my sleep, around him.
There’s my wife, too, of course. Jo – with her piercing blue eyes and iron-will, she lays completely still, knowing that the slightest movement might fool me into thinking it’s actually her turn to make the tea.
There’s work to be done, so eventually I relent and the tea is made. The older children just about manage to get themselves to school on time, the tyres on Olli’s Fiesta hissing on the driveway as he takes off down the country road like an F1 driver in poll position.
Jo bundles Archie into the car and she drives to the next village where he’s offloaded and thrust into a world of literacy, conkers and complicated playground politics.
Half an hour later, she returns to school with more clothes, having forgotten it’s non-uniform day.
Jo has meetings to attend and approximately forty-five companies to run. I’m involved (I think) because my legal skills haven’t been lost and I still consult for a select group of wonderful clients, so I tag along to the first two but, after some inappropriate comments about the budget, I’m barred from the remaining three.
I slink off to the gym where I ignore all of the apparatus and order a cheeseburger and fries in the café. Here, I catch up on some emails by moving them to various different folders in Outlook and placing different coloured flags next to them. I have no idea what the flags mean but it gives a sense of order to things.
I work for the rest of the afternoon on various projects, threaten to sue a few people then leave the gym and head home, picking up Archie on the way back. Today, he has three incident slips and the mud covers approximately ninety per cent of his clothing.
Jo is back early and we play in the garden with Archie for an hour or so before I carry on working again. This time, some editing to attend to. All is going well until the editor’s comment I’m dreading crops up half way through the manuscript: insert sex scene.
I write the sex scene, careful to avoid the banned words (penetration, seed, hard-on, crusty triangle etc). I later present this to Jo for comment. She laughs, genuinely and heartily, and I go back to the laptop, encouraged. She’s at her most beautiful when she laughs: like a better looking, more-fun Audrey Hepburn.
We take turns reading to Archie after tea and, eventually, he settles down. There’s a new batch of emails to categorise before we head off to bed to read. For a writer, reading is fun and technically classed as research too so that’s double time efficiency.
Olli and Grace come through separately before they go off to bed for different reasons. Grace because she has an exam tomorrow is looking for a motivational pet-talk. Olli because he’s run out of deodorant and wants to borrow mine. Then, just in that moment of peaceful void between sleep and awake, we realise that we haven’t actually spoken to each other all day and begin the process of unloading the shit and grime that clouds our minds for the next three hours.
The next morning, the daylight glares through the Velux blinds so intensely it seems as though the sun’s inner core has parked right outside of the house…
Ha ha. Thanks James. Great post. Sounds like you have quite the busy day there. I take it that it is a good thing your wife laughs at your written sex scenes then? The Mayfly sounds like a cracking read and I can’t wait to get stuck in over the coming weeks.
My thanks to Emily Burns for inviting me to take part in the blog tour. The Mayfly is available in e-book and is released in paperback today and is published by Bonnier Zaffre. It is available from the following retailers.
About The Author
Before turning his hand to writing, James Hazel was a lawyer in private practice specialising in corporate and commercial litigation and employment law. He was an equity partner in a regional law firm until he quit legal practice to pursue his dream of becoming an author. He has a keen interest in criminology and a passion for crime thrillers, indie music and all things retro.
Follow James on Twitter.
Be sure to check out all the other brilliant blogs on the tour.