The Clockwork Coroner

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Act III.

Those two words alone have enough voltage to jolt me awake faster than a triple-shot Americano.

This morning’s writing session felt like hitting the final turn of a long, winding race — momentum doing half the work, adrenaline doing the rest. And yes, the coffee helped. A day without coffee is like… actually, I have no idea (see Exhibit A on my windowsill).

I’m officially barreling into the final act of The Clockwork Coroner, where every moving part I’ve set in motion — the suspects, the secrets, the dockside shadows — finally collide. The gears are spinning faster, the stakes are rising, and Philly’s gaslit nights have never felt more alive on the page.

If you’ve been following along, thank you. You’re catching me in that rare, electric phase where a story stops being a “work in progress” and starts becoming something real — something inevitable.

Act III is where I tighten every bolt, lift every curtain, and let every truth come screaming into the light.

More soonish…
The coffee’s still hot and the words are still flowing.