I figured, since I've never shot a gun, and I'm writing mysteries about a private eye that does, I needed to check out doing such. So, this morning my Williamson County Coroners critique group met at a local shooting range.
I took my husbands forty-year-old .22 caliber Baretta. The hardest part of the task was inserting the bullets into the magazine clip, the shooting was easy! Did a number on that target--although I aimed for the heart, a shot to the head counted just as well.
But when my co-writer-friend loaned me his 35 caliber, I hit the center of that bullseye! Guess that means I'm a big-gun shooter. Thing about it is, the bad guy would have to stand still for an awfully long time while I took aim and squeezed that trigger.
Neat adventure, then we topped it off with coffee and doughnuts, just like the cops do.
By the way, the guy at the shooting range did suggest I use fresher bullets than tweny-year-old ones, so I did.