On the page she strides boldly
through gore, spattered, flung
arms dramatic, brain sharpishly screwed on.
No suspect is spared, no plotline too raw,
she ventures where others gasp, look away.
And she knows at least sixty ways
to dispose of a lover.
Yet the glimpse of a needle
makes her gibber to nurses.
She watches crime on TV through
chinked fingers and wine,
she dithers at shadows, jumps at
rustles in the road. A floorboard
creaking in the night sends her diving.
Scurry, scurry, little paws,
the horror of that nib on paper!
findingtimetowrite 
Fun picture!
Oh! This is me! Lol. Love the gleeful mischief in this!
Well, better that than the other way round, right?
Made me smile… such lovely words xXx
Thank you, good to reconnect with you after our summer break.
How well you capture the ‘truth vs reality’ Marina š
I read somewhere that ‘at night, when you are alone, everyone’s a murderer’ and of course rationality and reason fall asleep…
Marina Sofia – Oh, what a delicious portrait of a crime novelist!! And I love the ‘photo too! You’ve definitely inspired me š
Or the crime fiction reader/reviewer. Not me, I hasten to add – I am bravery itself!