This page is about my upcoming first full length novel called Crowbar Junction.
The current status of the book is that it has been critiqued and I am now working on the editing process. I have finally completed the 2nd draft and am going to read the critique again before I begin the 3rd draft. It is going well but I know that there is more to do with the book so I don’t know when I will be finished.
This is the books opening paragraph. (Of the First Draft)
August 27 1944
Even when the skull audibly cracked he didn’t let up. The blows just kept on coming, down, heavier, harder. Even when the skull began to give way he only barely paused long enough to change to the skull of the other man who lay before him. Again down and heavier and harder until another crack was heard and another skull gave way. When he finally stopped raining down on the two bloodied former men at his feet to catch his breath, he didn’t notice the ear piercing shrieks of the women or the low cries of the confused children. Nor did he notice that his brother had run away and left him there or that a horrified congregation of suited men stood open jawed and with tears in their eyes not twenty feet from him. He didn’t even notice when a horse and cart rounded the corner and had to pull up as he blocked their way or when the driver began to shout an upbraid, until he saw the devastation on the mucky, red sludged road. All Shamus did notice was that he was finished, that he had done what he needed to do. His breaths gradually became easier to draw and he dropped the crowbar to the ground, the weight of it feeling as though it could separate his shoulders. There was a metallic clink as it bounced on some of the larger stones in the road surface. He was sweating now, a greasy sweat that didn’t roll off but instead seemed to sit and accumulate at his forehead and temples. He felt as though he were sweating the dirt up through his body from the ground below. A drink was what he needed. Picking up his cap and deciding against putting it on he carried it over to the public house.
On a first reading of the book the reviewer has written:
‘Six individuals, each with their own heartbreaking story to tell, and each connected in their grief to one place: Crowbar Junction.
The story begins at an intersection in Thackett’s Cross, a small, fictional community in rural Ireland. It is a chilly night on the 27 August 1944 and a crowbar has just been used to murder two men in sight of a growing crowd of onlookers. Once the men are dead, the killer unashamedly strolls into the pub that overlooks the intersection and orders a beer.
The events of this night will go down in infamy and give the intersection a new name: Crowbar Junction. It is a place that will forever be associated with death, abandonment and the splintering of families. It will also become the turning point – the crossroads, as it were – in the lives of the novels’ central characters.
Crowbar Junction is a novel about great loss, particularly within families. Each character has been left broken by the loss of someone they loved and trusted, and it sends them into a desperate battle against painful, incapacitating feelings of guilt, insecurity and inadequacy. However, each has a valuable lesson to learn, one which only the Crowbar Junction can teach them.’