Flank Street by A.J. Sendall

A.J. Sendall

      

Hello,
I've often been asked where my ideas come from, how I form a story. It all starts with a picture. With Flank Street, I didn’t set out to write about Micky, or Carol come to that.
The rain was falling steadily, running down the small, below-ground-level window, which is the only source of natural light in the boiler-room where I write. For some reason it reminded me of a rain-soaked street in Sydney, Australia; a street I’ve walked many times, both wet and dry.
As I held that image in the back of my eyelids, a man appeared. Yellow streetlights reflected from the wet tarmac; he walked in the shadow of the plane trees, pulling his hood up against the unrelenting rain. He stopped, leaned against a tree, and waited.
Right at that moment, I knew what I had to do.

I didn’t know Micky, but I’ve known guys like him, and so his character was soon defined; a grifter that could never amount to much without living in the shadows.
I had fun writing Flank Street, and when it was done, I missed spending my days with Micky and Carol. I missed Carol’s feistiness, her sultry take me to bed eyes that could so quickly turn to cunning. And Micky, for all his faults, was a good guy to hang out with. I’d like to sit and have another drink with him one day… one day.