Sheila, Take A Bow

I was on my way to take part in a panel on Saturday at Bristol’s Crime Fest when I met Sheila Quigley (right) on the stairs, coming back from the swimming pool. “You’d want to get downstairs for a swim, son,” she says, “you look like shite.” Nice.
  I’d come across Sheila’s name before, and presumed with a moniker like that she was an Irish crime writer, only to find she’s a Sunderland lass going back generations – it’s her husband who brings the ‘Quigley’ element to the party. Anyway, as of last weekend, I’m officially adopting Sheila Quigley as an Irish crime writer under the ‘married-to-bloke-who-has-an-Irish-grandfather’ rule, mainly because she’s so shy and retiring and seems to need someone to speak up on her behalf (koff) …
  So – the business end of things. Sheila’s current novel is EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE, but THE ROAD TO HELL is due in November, from indie publisher Tonto Books, which has this for its manifesto: “To help support and nurture writers and value them as an integral part of the publishing industry.” Y’know, it’s so damn crazy it might just work …