I love to read. I’m an addict. But what if I get unduly influenced by someone else’s writing? How do any writers out there preserve your own unique voices when exposed to the excellent prose of a master?
Before that I was underwhelmed by The Moving Toyshop (Classic Crime)by Edmund Crispin. I admit to being seduced inside Oxfam in Stockbridge in Edinburgh by the crisp green Penguin cover, one of the Classic Crime series. But inside there was just no sense of urgency.