Ideas count as productivity, right?

The above tweet is not only a shining example of the kind of dazzlingly witty offering I make over on that strange platform but a fair indication of my state of mind. I am trying to write, but my brain is like a sack of cats floating along a river… some ideas are treading water, some are floundering, but there’s always one or two of the sharp-clawed little bastards clinging to the trouser leg of creativity. I am, in fact, writing almost every day and batting at a fairly decent average, but it seems quite difficult to remain focused, and I have absolutely no semblance of a routine whatsoever. I would love to be one of those sprightly people who leap out of bed at 5am, go for a walk, learn something new, and be creative all before the rest of the world wakes up, but… I am not.

If I was to wake up early, I would probably spend those extra hours mainlining coffee and giving my thumb a good stretch as I scroll through whatever unmissable, addictive bollocks happened on my phone throughout the night. God forbid I miss a Neil Gaiman tweet or yet another article from the British press about how much of a bitch Megan Markle supposedly is (Harry for king in case you’re wondering… just for the laughs and the apoplectic rage from posh English gammons. There would be top hats toppling and monocles a-poppin all over the place!)

And let’s take now for instance, this very moment as I type these words on my veranda on a cool morning while the neighbourhood dogs scream bloody murder, the lady next door roars at her children and the smell of frying bacon wafts over the rooftops… this is perfect for writing! So what am I doing? That’s right, tapping out this asinine nonsense instead of giving 100% to my latest work in progress. And do you know the reason? It’s because I’m scared. I am writing about my grandad, my hero, the shadow who has forever been with me since he left us 34 years ago. When you’re a little boy and your strong, quiet grandfather is a genuine war hero it leaves a mark on a kid. I’ve wanted to write his story since before I could read and now that I have five books being published in the next few years and THOUSANDS of words of practice behind me I am finally doing it. The working title, Shadows in the Sand, is fast approaching fifty thousand words but I have never been plagued by more doubt. I write horror stories… with a comedy twist… it seems wrong somehow to use this genre to write about the lived experiences of a soldier, of a man I care so deeply about. In fact, those are the paraphrased words of my own father when I first brought up the idea, but then dad said something else that really stuck with me… “I think Dad would appreciate the preservation of some of his experiences.” And my god, what experiences! The research has revealed stunning details, events and circumstances that just fly onto the page. I find myself writing in a mad fever and a few thousands words appear beneath my fingers as if by magic but then I get caught on a detail I MUST get right and I slow to a snail’s pace. On my best day with this novel, I wrote over five thousand words. Two days ago, I wrote 192. Yesterday, I had an idea.

That’s it, an idea. Just another cat scratching for attention, but I think it’s a good one.

And yet here I am, writing nonsense in a quiet corner of the internet instead of getting on with it.

What is it grandad used to say… “push on”.

Okay, the distractions are done with now, it’s time to take his advice.

The unprofessional professional

Let’s be honest, I’m not particularly good at this whole ‘professional author’ gig. The truth is, I’m not entirely sure I am one anyway, and I certainly won’t feel like I’m cresting that little hill until I hold my book in my hands. As I write this, my debut novel should have been out for four days (by the original plan) but due to some jiggery-pokery at my wonderful publishers, we have another few months to wait. So here I am, filling time until the release, wondering what it is ‘professional authors’ even do.

Apparently, author photographs are a thing… so I had a crack at that. All I can say is thank god for my mate, Pam, who is a(n actual professional) photographer because holy hell, I was not a professional photographee (is that even a word?)

This all came about because I started interacting in little ‘author worlds’ with people who actually are authors and they all had spanky shiny photographs on their various profiles. I, on the other hand, have a profile pic in which I’m a bit hammered and halfway down a Long Island Iced Tea… and a website ‘logo’ that looks like two deformed pigeons playing hide and seek (and with missing legs!) The publishers website looks like they’ve invited the works experience kid to play along with them… so we did something about it.

Pam is a legend. There’s a whole history there that I won’t go into but suffice to say, a few Sundays ago Pam and her lovely family rocked up at our place with all the gear and we had a blast. I’d cheekily asked Pam if she had a rock star kind of ‘rider’ – you know, requests for food and beer etc – she replied with ‘pulled lamb sliders, craft beer and purple MnMs’.

The only thing I couldn’t find was purple MnMs!

We had a ball! We drank craft beer, we ate sliders, and Pam worked her magic while I continued to drink and take the piss… because I am the unprofessional professional.

Last week, I got a batch of photographs through from Pam and despite the subject matter being me, they’re really fun. This is batch one of two. Pretty soon I’m going to have to pick which ones I’m going to use for where. Any suggestions?

(You can check out Pam’s amazing work at https://www.pjbphotography.com.au/)

Flibbertygibbets and jiggerypokery

A lot has happened in a short space of time so I thought I’d write a little post to let everyone know what the flibbertygibbets is going on.

– The Book and the Blade has a new release date – February 28th, 2023. I’ve known for quite a while that this was going to happen and I’ll be honest, I was gutted at first, but it is for the best. The reason is due to some jiggerpokery at the publishers that meant the original schedule couldn’t be kept. Not really a problem, my debut novel will still come out in my 40th year and I think that’s pretty cool.

– About that ‘debut novel’ thing. Well, The Book and the Blade might not end up being my debut after all. I still have a publisher interested in getting Rock Zombie into print… there’s a small chance it could happen before February, but who knows?

– I finished another book. This one is set where I live in Australia and is called The Last Witch in Brisbane. There is an uncomfortable number of people beta reading it for me. I’m scared.

– Speaking of other books, there are four Arthur Crazy stories in total and they are all complete. In fact, it’s really surreal to me that no one has read Arthur’s first adventure and I’ve finished a whole story arc!

– The cover for the second book will be announced sooner than you think and hopefully, the release of the four books will be more condensed than first planned.

– Each book will be available in eBook, hardback and paperback formats from pretty much anywhere you can buy books. There is also a possibility of an audiobook release but I’m not 100% on that just yet.

– Last but not least, following advice from people I really respect, I have delved into the young person’s world of TikTok. I don’t know what I’m doing and honestly, once I’ve waded past all the shiny young people waving their tits at the camera I feel more than a little uncomfortable being there… so I’m going about it with my usual sense of professionalism and attention to detail.

Oh, and I’m writing. In fact, I’m writing the story I’ve wanted to write since before I could read (🤔, but more on that later.

Cheers folks!

Whoring myself out to publishers…

The wonderful thing about being a writer is the joy you get from putting your heart and soul into a piece of work, spending hours, days, weeks, years poring over it, making it as amazing as possible, as perfect as possible, getting it polished and ready to hand out to the world and then giving it to complete strangers and waiting a small eternity for them to send you a form letter saying “ha ha ha! this is shit!” or, better yet, never hearing from them again.

Mmm, makes you feel all warm and cosy.

Clearly, I’m being facetious. Sending your books out is a bloody nightmare! It is especially worse for slightly introverted people (and let’s be honest, many authors are as their entire job is to close themselves away from people and make shit up in a dark room) because the last thing we want is for anyone to actually read it, but of course, we also want everyone to read it!

To paraphrase Hemmingway…

Writing is easy. You just sit at a computer and bleed.

Submitting to a publisher is easier… you just stand naked in front of people and wait for them to judge you. (And let me tell you, size is definitely an issue!)

When I first started sending books out I basically whored myself with very little in the way of research. There was definitely an arrogance there on my part. I’ve put all this work in, it must be good enough. It wasn’t. Oh, and I aimed big. Who publishes Neil Gaiman’s books? Terry Pratchett’s? They’ll do for me! It’s almost impossible to get yourself through the door of one of the big five without an invite (that’s the reason, honest!) so I threw my book to every small publisher I could find. I got instant answers… and that felt so good… but they all gushed over the opportunity they were giving me to pay them a shit ton of money. Eventually, as I think I’ve mentioned before, I did my research and it worked out well for the Arthur stories, but here we go again. Time to send some books out and see what happens.

I’ve done my research. I have a list (hell, I have a spreadsheet) and I know all the rules, but it’s a massive ball ache. Writing books is hard… summarising everything within your book in 500 hundreds words or less while trying to keep some of the magic and mystery alive… is a bloody nightmare! And some publishers get really cranky if you send it to more than one at a time, but here’s the thing with that, waiting 6 months to get a rejection letter means you can drag out the process for years! That’s one rule I frequently break. When I send books out, I send them out in droves! Another rule the great Conn Iggulden has suggested people take with a pinch of salt is the one asking for the first three chapters only. He reckons just send the whole lot in because if they like it they have it right there ready and waiting. But, to be fair, who is going to reject a Conn Iggulden book these days? The guy is a legend, churning out bestseller after bestseller.

So, I’ll be breaking a few rules this weekend and no doubt having a few beverages in the evening to drown my sorrows. There’s nothing quite like that post-click send glow when you realise you’ve addressed it to the wrong person, or you spelled something incorrectly, or you get it into your head that they should have already read it and sent you a six-book deal within half-an-hour of receiving the email.

And of course, instead of actually sending out submissions I’m writing this, but now we’re at the end…

Wish me luck!

A few things…

There are now less than seven weeks to go until The Book and the Blade is released into the wild so I thought I’d write a little post in order to give some updates.

– pre-orders for the ebook are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Booktopia, Kobo and more

– pre-orders for hardback and paperback are available on the Parliament House Press website (though I think these are US only at the moment)

– there will be ebook, hardback and paperback available eventually but there are some fun issues in the publishing industry at the moment so physical copies might take a wee bit longer

– I forgot about the merchandise stuff… my bad… I’ll make sure shirts and whatnot are available for those who might like that sort of thing

– I have a marketing meeting at the beginning of August which is extraordinarily grown-up and I’ll have to try my best not to giggle like an idiot all the way through it

– there is a tenative venue for the book launch – Netherworld Arcade and Bar in Brisbane – but I’m not entirely sure when the launch will be. There isn’t really much point in doing a proper shindig unless I have physical books to flog so that is a work in progress. Also, the book is released on a Tuesday and I don’t think anyone will show up to an event in the city on a week night like that. The next available date is the following Sunday… which is 9/11… so that’s a solid no

– there are sequels… they are finished

– a very kind person invited me to speak at a small event in September because, and I quote, “you’re an author” and honestly, it took me a moment to realise they weren’t taking the piss!

– a good mate of mine who is a wonderfully talented photographer is going to take ‘author photos’ of me in August. It is going to be… chaotic. We were just about crying laughing coming up with ideas. Sure, I could take it seriously, or…

– I found out Lord Bezos and his Amazonian Algorithms are making books vanish from lists if they get less than four stars… so please, if you do review my little book, give it 4 or 5 stars on Amazon… and then 1 on Goodreads ;-D

– I’m writing again. Averaging a thousand words a day

– my mam is very proud of me… for now… she won’t be if she ever reads the bloody thing! 😀

Premature ejaculation

Premature

Adjective

Occurring or done before the usual or proper time; too early.

Ejaculation

Noun

Something said quickly and suddenly.

I’ve had a habit of this my whole life (stop giggling and get your mind out of the gutter. We’re using the Queen’s English here). What I mean is, I regularly do or say something just that little bit too soon… whereas if I’d only wait for a bit it generally works itself out.

It usually isn’t anything major. Not like the end of The Mist (spoilers) where old mate kills everyone in the car a split second before the army arrives to rescue them (so grim. Definitely worth a watch though). It’s dumb shit like asking one waiter when my meal will arrive while another waiter is handing food to my wife. Or calling the godawful Telstra hotline if the internet has packed in only for it to start working just as Dave from Brisbane answers… that sort of dumb stuff. The small delay, I think, is worse than a long one. It just makes you look like an impatient bell-end.

Take, for instance, an excited author whose first book is due for release in two months. He hasn’t heard anything for a while (publishers are amazing, busy people, and editors, to paraphrase Stephen King, are doing the Lord’s work) so he makes a silly Facebook post about there being no news.

Then the next day he receives an email with really exciting news!

But he can’t share that with you… not yet. That would be premature.

In Terms of Terms This is it!

MY BOOK COMES OUT THIS TERM!

As a teacher by day (and a barely functioning man-child by night) much of my life is controlled by bells, schedules and timetables. Even now, during the school holidays, I have a Pavlovian response to sniff out the nearest coffee at 8:15, 10:55 and 3:01, but it’s not just the daily routine that is ground in, it’s my entire life, the way I view the world. My year, for example, is organised by terms and breaks and it occured to me recently that THIS IS MY LAST SCHOOL BREAK BEFORE MY BOOK COMES OUT!

Next term I will be a published author…

… and the next school holiday I’ll probably be crying why isn’t anyone reading my book?!

… and the one after that I’ll be desperately shilling The Book and the Blade as a stocking filler!

… the one after that? Pulp?

But nihilistic self-deprecating bollocks aside, that’s really exciting isn’t it?! Yes, my life is split into carefully colour-coded and well organised little chunks, and yes I do associate big events automatically with where they fit in the school year… for example, in my first ever term as a teacher I married the love of my life… but that structured existence makes it really kind of exciting (and easy to keep track of). So while I’ll be preparing my students as they head towards their final exams (term 3 is notoriously where all the really hard work happens) I’ll also be coming home to a house that will look a little like Alan Partridge’s caravan (now that’s a niche little reference. I’m not sure how many will get that one!)

in fact, it’s the second Alan Partridge reference I’ve thrown in this post.

So, in terms of terms, this is it, my book is out… now*

*disclaimer… my book is not actually out *now*. *Now* will in fact be on September 6. But by *then* you’ll be able to look back at *this* which will be now.

How’s the writing going?

I get asked this a lot. It’s nice. It’s also a wee bit depressing when the answer is, has been, and will probably continue to be… it isn’t. I have a “work in progress” but instead of my usual all-consuming attacking the keyboard like a starving dog going at a bag of hot chips I’m more tapping out a single word here and there like an old man one-finger tapping his phone while in line at the chemist.

We’re all absolutely cream-crackered. Between covid, the flu, moving house, work, exams, sick kids, midnight hospital visits, frequent runs to the doctor, and general… life… there’s been little in the way of time left for writing. But it’s the school holidays now so maybe I can eek out some time to peer over the top of the old spectacles and tap out a word here and there?

But I do like the latest book… it’s set in Brisbane and follows a young man who finds out he is the last witch in the city… and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen! Right now, he’s at Bunnings have a sausage in bread while a 400 year old Irish witch buys a drill to hollow out the femur of a dead kangaroo so they can use it as wand/divining rod of some sort. Honestly, I have no clue!

As for the upcoming release of The Book and the Blade (my first novel in case I haven’t mentioned this before 🤣) I have absolutely no idea what is happening there either. Publishing is great fun. It’s long periods of seemingly neverending silence followed by short but massive flurries of activity before falling back into silence. Right now, you could hear a fart at a funeral. But time is ticking. We are just over 2 months away from release!

Squeaky bum time!

Right, I think I’ll go to Bunnings and see if I can drum up some inspiration (or get a sausage, either way, it’ll be fun).

Cheers 🍻

Meet me at the horse’s arse – inspiration

“Where do you get your ideas from?”

This is a question that crops up a lot when people find out I write silly little books. And when they actually read those books and realise just how bloody silly they are the question takes on a whole new inflection. No longer simply curious, more… concerned.

“So, where do you get your ideas from?” (you complete nutter)

The answer is simple… theft and blind luck. I make shit up, I exaggerate, I see something I like or hear something that peaks my interest and I nick it, twist it and turn it into my own. Invariably, and to the ever loving frustration of my wife and friends, this means nothing is safe or sacred. Take the title of this blog post for instance… meet me at the horse’s arse. It’s a little weird, a bit out there, and absolutely not mine. My friend, Andy, once told a story about his parents arranging to meet in the city one rainy Saturday. This was back before we had mobile phones to stalk each other and carry on talking and getting directions while looking at one another. This was the good old 90s.

Fancy a trip into the city?

Sure. Where shall we meet?

ANZAC Square… at the statue.

Done.

Brisbane is a beautiful city. Lots of history, lots of open spaces, lots of handy places to meet. In fact, it’s kind of a right of passage to meet outside the Hungry Jacks in Queen Street but Andy’s parents weren’t teenagers when this story happened and neither were they carrying skateboards (kind of a prerequisite for the Hungry Jacks meet) so they arranged to meet in ANZAC Square next to the Boer War Memorial. It was the perfect spot. A giant bronze soldier astride a bloody great big horse on top of a huge stone plinth. Hard to miss.

Or so they thought.

As the story goes, Andy’s dad got there first and waited.

And waited.

Andy’s mam never showed. The worry set in. Had he been stood up? Was she okay? What was going on? The details from me are a little sketchy here because we were a bit drunk when Andy told me this story so I’m afraid I have no idea what the conclusion was and how these two lovely people finally met. Was it later the same day? Was it somewhere else? Was it at the horse? I don’t know. What I do know is the excellent resolution.

Andy’s mam had not stood her fella up at all.

And neither was she late.

In fact, Andy’s mam was getting just as frustrated as Andy’s dad… who, unbeknownst to her, was standing in the rain a little more than a few metres away! Because you see, the excellent end to this tale is that they both arrived at roughly the same time and yet waited at opposite ends of the horse!

Andy’s family now have this wonderful habit of arranging to meet at ‘the horse’s bum’, which is just so cool, and so lovely, and so easy to steal and throw into my story about the last witch in Brisbane, and of course, I changed ‘bum’ to ‘arse’ because I prefer a little swearyness in my tales.

So, when the question of inspiration comes up, the answer is simple. I steal things, I exaggerate, and I add little twists and turns until it becomes something else entirely. In my current WIP, it will not be a lovely couple missing their meeting at the statue in ANZAC Square. It will be a confused barman with some latent supernatural power waiting for a four-hundred year old Irish witch. Neither of them are going to be happy about it… and it will result in a demon being let loose on the city… and people will die… lots of people… in really weird ways… but it will be fun to read (I hope) and all because they failed to specify heads or tails!

I owe a big thank you to Andy’s mam and dad! We’ve only met once or twice and yet I’ve half-inched one of their family stories to scribble into one of my silly little books. Cheers!

And remember, folks. If you’re going to meet at a bloody great big horse statue… toss a coin, or better yet, just meet at the arse!

Smile like you mean it

I’m broke, but I’m happy. I’m poor, but I’m kind. I’m not short, but I’m not particularly healthy either. For a few weeks now I’ve been living on a prayer and trying my hardest to keep the faith as I am not ready to go down in a blaze of glory just yet. I ain’t got a fever, or a permanent disease but it’s gonna take more than my doctor to prescribe a remedy… which is why I’ve been struggling to be a regular working class man. I had two weeks off work (though it was no summer holiday) while I got my head checked (and various other bits and bobs… remember kids, just because it feels good, doesn’t make it right) but so far, I have no answers. Hells bells, I even told the witch doctor, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. All my life I’ve been healthy but these days it feels a little like I’m on a long road to ruin, but you know what, I’m a paperback writer! As my wife says, I always make something from nothing and I’m happy to report that I’m already on the mend. For a while now, though, I haven’t been able to do anything. I can’t dance, I can’t talk. The only thing about me is the way that I walk. I think it’s been one week since you looked at me. Ain’t that a kick in the head! But I’m nothing if not Mr Brightside. I rested up, asked the doctor to give me the news, and got by with a little help from my friends.

I went back to the old 9 to 5… and I feel fine.

Then it all changed… again.

Imagine!

Somebody told me all these things that I’d done – specifically, the zombie book I wrote – was no good. Because, Mr Writer, you can’t legally reproduce song lyrics! Honestly, it was like a kiss with a fist! That book is FULL of lyrics. So much so, I might as well try to rewrite the stars. It’s not as though it’s a simple book about a girl or anything. It’s a full on zombie-ghost-hybrid novel and each chapter is the title of a song. Each one can stand on its own two feet and be so vain as to think that song is about it, because it is!

(that was a stretch wasn’t it)

I’m gutted.

Disturbed even.

A true heartbreaker. You were gonna go far, kid!

But the show must go on! Rock and roll dreams come through and I thrive under pressure. Now that I feel fine, it looks like I’ve got a lot of editing to do. Don’t stop me now!

There is the argument, of course, that instead of going through changes, what I got could be a real firestarter, but I don’t want to be caught by the fuzz. Because here’s the thing, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.

So, how do you edit a full novel completely embedded with song lyrics in order to take all those song lyrics out and not fall foul of the copyright gods and yet still maintain the essence of the story while writing a sarcastic, song-lyric-laden blog post in the car in the pouring rain while waiting for your daughter to finish her drama class?

A kind of magic!

I just wish I had a Pina Colada.

Thanks for reading… how many references did you pick up?