My Ideal Writing Space by Bradley W. Wright – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bradley W. Wright will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

For me, the ideal writing space is wherever I am when I happen to have a few minutes free. When I decided to write my first book I had very little free time. I have more now but still very little. Back then, my biggest chunk of unallocated time every day was my commute to and from work. I was on the freeway for forty-five minutes each way. I made a decision to turn off the car radio and drive in silence. That silence allowed me to think through scenes I was working on in the book. I would create a picture of the scene in my head, place the characters in the scene, decide what was important to describe, think through the dialogue, the pacing, and the emotional register. Then, then next time I was able to actually write, I could basically just copy down what I had already created. This made it possible for me to be much more productive. I would write if I was waiting at the dentist’s office, had fifteen minutes at lunch time, or it was my wife’s turn to put the baby to bed.

In order to make this work, I had to come up with a system for being able to access my manuscript in progress wherever I was with whatever device I had. I decided to use Google docs because I could work on my book on my phone or on any tablet, laptop, or desktop computer with an internet connection I happened to have access to.

That being said, I wouldn’t mind having a fully equipped studio space perhaps in an old carriage house overlooking the ocean in some tropical place where I could leave the window open while I was writing. The fragrance of jasmine and plumeria would waft in on the soft breeze from the ocean. I would lay down on my Eames daybed for a mid-afternoon nap. In the early evening someone would bring me gin and tonic and I would sit on the balcony to watch the sunset after a pleasant day of crafting prose.

Justin Vincent is a San Francisco based artist who leads a secret double life as a cat burglar. He likes the freedom, money, and self-determination his unusual career provides but also increasingly feels that it is a life he fell into by accident. When a valuable painting is stolen from his lover Valerie, Justin agrees to use his underworld contacts and knowledge of the black market to help. The search leads him to an antiquities dealer who has fallen on hard times and a mysterious European middle man. With the help of his friend Ashna, a skilled hacker, and Gabrielle, owner of an art gallery in Nice, Justin gathers clues that lead him to a mysterious chateau in the South of France and a dangerous web of secrets and lies. To escape with his life and complete his objective, Justin’s skill, luck, and perseverance will be tested to their utmost limit.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I rolled over a big rock which tore at my parka then came up against a tree trunk with a bump. Hurriedly, I rose to a crouch and got behind the tree. As I did so, I heard another shot and pieces of bark showered my left cheek. I kept moving, dodging between trees, heading downhill. I heard several more shots as I ran but none seemed to come as close as the one that had struck the tree. I didn’t dare look back but I had a good guess as to the identity of my pursuer.

How the hell did he find me? I wondered. Then it struck me: he must have been waiting for me. He had taken a chance on me visiting Gabrielle, had seen me go by on my way there, then had waited for me to pass on my way back. Smart. I should have considered the possibility. I wondered how many bullets Legere’s gun held. I didn’t know anything about guns, but I had held it in my hand and I knew it was not full size. I had a notion that a full-size handgun might hold about twenty rounds. I knew a compact handgun would hold more than six but less than twenty. Maybe twelve? I would not have bet my life on it. He had fired about seven or eight rounds so far. Did he have an extra clip?

I kept moving down the hill. I could hear him following, bounding down the hill after me, his feet sliding in the leaves and dirt with every step. Two more shots rang out.

About the Author:I am a writer and educational technology professional. I lived in San Francisco for the past fifteen years but recently moved to Los Angeles with my wife and five year old son. My first book Old Gold Mountain is out now.

The book will be $0.99. Buy it at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Also available through iBooks, Google Play, and Indigo.

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