Here I am at the edge

I always told myself, I would never sell out and write work I was ashamed of. But, the time has come to sell out and throw up, in the next quarter I am going to attempt a zombie/sex story, may the Lord have mercy on my soul. This will without a doubt be the crappy low point I hoped never to reach, but as nobody is interested in my work; aim for the lowest denominator which is zombies and sex and you have a winning story. I will hate writing this, which will probably mean you love it.

A new low

I never made the 10 sale month, so I set myself a new target 10 sales in a QUARTER; if I can't get that, is there any point?

Not doing well :(

Thank the Lord for "Holding Richmond" without the sales from this book I would have about 10, which considering the publicity Chronicles has had is not even worth calling puerile

The return of a favourite

The readers of this blog and the relative successes of "Algie & Bertie" and "Sons of Baal" yesterday, have made me consider re-starting the high action serial I was running a short while ago, I now realise that 60 readers on here is a good post count and by this standard, I am going to re-open "The Word."

The anniversary

In a few days it will be July and the first week brings back memories of the tendon injury two years ago; this photo is one I took the day of the accident, the difference in the ankle size is clear to see. The left ankle stayed that size for most of the month.

Out alone on the glacier

This is one of a number of ideas I have toyed with since writing Nerja last year http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007ODWS4C , one of the ideas was for a story about an escaped killer and the manhunt to catch him as the weather closes in and the lead patrolman's career comes to an end. The idea of time and the weather closing in on them, gave the story an extra edginess which is something my stories are known for. This is a quick excerpt as I haven't got to writing the story with everything else going on in my writing world; even if nothing sells I have friends who like to read my stories. The winds whipped the snow against the windows of the small aeroplane, and the two men in the Piper Cherokee looked out at the glacier below them. "Did you get a radio fix on them before the signal went off the air, Clem?" Joe Billings asked radio operator Clem Josephs. "No, Sir, they had only power to send the one message then the radio died out, do you thin

Sons of Baal (new version)

This is a rough copy of a story I may enter in a contest in November. SONS OF BAAL “Corpsman, on my call you get us the hell outta here,” sergeant-master Charnellor yelled, his voice carrying above the screams of the invading Orman and the cries of the dead aboard the beleaguered exploratory vessel Forgestriker. “But Sergeant...” Before the corpsman ended the sentence, Charnellor yelled back to the helm station, “Give me all you got left and get us outta this shitty mess, if we don’t get off now, the Orman fleet will be here before we get airborne and we be dead on the ground.” “What about your hand? It’s jammed in the air lock and if we take off...” “Son, I’m way ahead of ya, do as I say and leave my hand to me. The only thing I ask is you rush me to the emergency ward once we are airborne.” “Are you sure about this?” Charnellor grimaced through his pain and replied, “Hell

Down the lanes with our friends

Bertie looked forlornly at his friend and said, “I am sorry, old bean; I didn't realise you were struggling so much. Do you think the writing will pay?” Algie rose from the stile he had been using for a seat and replied, “Not for a good while, there is talk of a writer who wrote articles for a newspaper until his work became more popular, I don't wish to take up work like that, but I may need to, ‘Needs must as the devil drives,’ Bertie.” The pair walked along the path, listening to the bird calls and viewing the trees for signs of nests; Rooks and Crows flocked about as the farmers tilled their fields, turning up fresh worms and insects for the young birds. The afternoon air filled with the freshness of nature, the men were able to detect the odours of fresh manure on the air, too many this was distasteful but Algie enjoyed the smell as he would be a country man in heart and soul wherever life took him. “Do you recall our first meeting, Algie?” Bertie asked his friend.

Unappreciated

The light of the new day dawned with a clarity and the errors of my ways were plain to see. I am continuing to put "The Love of the Seas" on line, much against my judgement. It is clear tome that my work is not appreciated and that hurts, but there is little I can do to change the situation. If the only ting you want is free reads, then I am left with no choice but to gain a morsel of appreciation by giving hours of work away free. I don't like giving hours of work away, but if the stories won't sell then my worth is valued by the amount of free reads the story creates on my blog.

I became what I loathed the most

June 28, 2013

I became my own worst enemy, my writing has turned me into a monster of my creation. When I started I wanted to give happiness by telling my stories and now all I talk about is my work, I don't chat about things concerning my friends happiness. When I originally went on line, I said I despised men who only chatted about one thing and made friends for the variety of my talk, now all I chat about is my books and I loathe the person I am changing into. Was this trait of evilness already in me, but well hidden or did my writing create the trait which now consumes my days? I am sorry to those I neglected or have offended, my guilt will punish me more than you cam imagine; to give you an example it took six months to get over Faye's death and the feelings I had let her down at the end and yet nobody blamed me, other than myself. My intent was to try and help others and my writing was to be a part of that goal, like Lana took over the blog, my work took my persona and made me

Deja Vu

June 28, 2013

I'm getting a real sense of Deja Vu, 3 weeks and no interest in Chronicles book 2, this looks like b1 again; mass publicity, good feeling for the work and then nothing; the difference being b1 sold a few copies. I was right - the story is too complex for the readers who are fed on zombies. I am sorry I cannot satisfy your urges for such trivial reading matter, I did try but lost interest in less than a page.

The poisoned well

June 28, 2013

No, this is not the title of my next ghost or horror story for a free read. It is more like how I feel about things in general. When we appealed for help for Bandit, nobody stepped up to help us, yet when you consider how many contacts you have on line and then add their contacts, all it would have taken is a few nickels and dimes each and Vanessa would not have had the worry of the last few days. I did say earlier that this weekend I planned a respite to consider what to do, if he had died. He lived, no thanks to anybody on here. You are happy to have me spend hours writing your stories every week, nobody buys my books and when I asked for a tiny bit of compassion, despite the vast amount of writers that I know who have contracts and deals - it is hard not to hear you mouth off - NOBODY was there for Vanessa and Bandit, when they needed your help. I repeat my earlier words without the shame my fellow scribes heaped on me - I AM ASHAMED TO BE CLASSED AS A WRITER - ther

Was it worth the wait?

Through the Years In the beginning, I believed I had a slight chance of succeeding as a writer , but this soon disappeared, not that I thought my hope would last as long as it has. The only reason it has lasted this long is the support of my friend/ editor in Seattle , who believes I am a good writer. As far as I am concerned, I have been living off the fumes of glory since 2012 when I won an award .

Blackout

The new book in the case is by a young writer, I had the honour of chatting to when she launched her career 3 year ago, if you like dark humour then this tale of two young lovers in South Wales is for you; set against the fight to break the monotony of the clock factory run by English bosses in London. We meet a young girl trying to escape her fate and a young man trying to make a record for a group in the local pub :) http://www.amazon.com/Blackout-ebook/dp/B003AOAZLC/ref=sr_1_7?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372376451&sr=1-7&keywords=Tracy+Williams

Still running

http://alsdomain.weebly.com/love-of-the-sea.html#.UczH5TvVAW4 Yes, "The Love of the Sea" is going strong on the other blog in its twice a week blog, drop over and catch up with Jannine and Helmut.

How Dreams can Connect

Raaz 1967 On YouTube , I am watching a film from India which was made in 1967; there are no subtitles , but when I download the film I can add those. While this may appear odd to some people, readers will know I have an interest in India. What caught me eye about the film is not the beautiful ladies or the star cast; what caught my mind's eye is the likeness of the theme to a series of dreams I used to get when I lived in Clevedon . The theme of the story is about a man living in Kenya , he's Indian, who has dreams of a hill railway station in India. For years, I had a similarly themed fream about seeing a disused railway truck in the woods around Clevedon, where we lived. I never found the trusk as around the late 60s, the highway cut through the area where I thought the truck could be.

I am ashamed