Writing about death

I’m busy inventing a crime scene for ‘A falling of Angels’. The aftermath of a gangland execution style killing seen via a quantum viewpoint, asking questions about what shadows humans leave upon the world when our biochemical processes come to an abrupt halt. Also as a look at the nature of consciousness through the eyes of a Telempathic Detective (Telempath; my own invention. One who can read minds and see emotions). We are all sparks of electricity and dribbles of chemicals, but what about deeper down? Down below where the Quarks come out to play? Is this where the spark of sentience dwells?

These are the questions I’m currently wrestling with, and a recurrent theme all through the Paul Calvin series of stories. Writing this sort of stuff also leaves me feeling a little uneasy because I feel I am staring over the edge into a void. There’s also a sensation of anticipation and bravado, like I’m doing philosophical base jumps and parasailing out into eternity. The feeling is one of suppressed horror, but also of testosterone filled exhilaration.

Always leaves me a bit freaky while I’m working on such a piece.