For me getting to know your characters and seeing them develop into fully rounded, if at times eccentric, individuals is one of the great pleasures of writing. They become friends (is that strange?). This is especially the case with the three Inspector Kirby books (I’m now working on a fourth). But where do those characters they come from? 
When you read a book the setting is like another character. It’s important, you want to picture the characters in their surroundings, even if your version of that picture is different to everyone else. I’ve written before on how I see describing settings as a balance between giving enough information to convey something of my vision of any given place while still leaving enough room for the reader to form their own picture. It’s like I provide the outline and the reader colours it in. For the Inspector Kirby books this was an interesting and evolving process.
I’ve read science fiction from an early age and always been enthralled by its possibilities. Even if man can't visit the stars in person just yet (someday I’m sure we will) we can go there in our imaginations. Eventually science will follow and get us there. However, at university I also read, as did most students of my age, the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings which led me on to more fantasy including one of my all time favourites, The Magician by Raymond Feist. And then of course every other book in that long series. For me one of the main appeals of those books has to be the use of magic.
Like most indie-authors I’m looking for the “secret of sales". How do I get the word out, how do I attract those followers I need. And yes I know it’s not all about selling, at least not for me. I enjoy the writing and I get a real kick out of people who tell me they’ve read my books and enjoyed them. In many ways I just want more people to enjoy them and if I can make a little on the positive side of expenses:sales balance sheet that would be great. 
Inspector Kirby and Harold Longcoat - A Northumbrian Mystery.
Inspector Kirby, Jonah to his friends and 'old school' to his junior colleagues, wandered out of the cottage. He crossed the road and headed down the lane, with thorny hedge rows either side, that led to the sea. He’d put this off for days, wondering how it would make him feel. Still there was nothing quite like a walk along the coast with its prevailing North East breeze and the smell of salt and rotting seaweed in the air to clear the mind. And let’s face it there was a lot to clear.