Three Hoodies Save the World

Constant moaning and whinging about everything

Archive for the month “September, 2013”

The big crossroad, and which way should I turn?

I believe I’ve arrived at a point where I have to make a decision about writing.

Take my Three Hoodies series. Now I love writing about juvenile humour, which probably illustrates my maturity, or lack thereof. I like my Old Geezers series. Again, SF like Hoodies, with a little old-man humour and profanity thrown in. I Really enjoy writing about monsters and people’s encounters with them, or their sharp parts, anyway.

My rather laborious point is that neither Hoodies nor Old Geezers sold very well. Enough to please me but not enough to get the Porsche – or even just the P, as it happens. So my question, (not so much to you who take the time to read my rambling posts, but really just to myself) is, should I continue writing for the fun of it and hopefully make some money at the same time; or, should I write what I think people really want to read?

A bit of a no-brainer, really. Apart from romance, horror is the world’s best selling genre. I can’t see myself ever writing a romance. It’s just not in me. I included a couple of semi romantic scenes in Book of Pain but I really had to. I couldn’t let the poor lad go four hundred years without even a kiss.

Of course I could just continue to write in the genres I like, but write them better. Yet even if I could, there’s just so many of us that I wonder if it would ever be discovered. I’ve networked myself to death. I’ve taken advantage of every free advertising site. And even though I now have a good job which will allow me to begin paying, I see no real evidence that forking out barrow loads of cash guarantees sales.

I think I’ve really answered my own question. I’m retiring the Old Geezers unless I can get some sales, but the four novel Hoodies series, of which the last is one third finished, will be my last. I don’t want to write about vampires or zombies – there are plenty out there and written far better than I could, or would even want to try. I don’t have any desire to write about pre-pubescent wizards. And the final thing is: if I write in too many genres then I dilute any potential following I might amass, and I don’t fancy doing it under a pen name. And finally, I know my artwork isn’t good enough so if I do spend any money, it will be on a proper artist. Oh Joleene…?
So horror it is.

I had no time to write this week so I painted this. A bit gloomy, but it suited my mood

layers

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I signed up to do what?! — my upcoming adventures in the Race for the Cure

melindamcguirewrites

I blame my daughter

I am crawling walking/running a 5K this weekend.

I haven’t seen “physically fit” in about 10 years.

My oldest offspring said “let’s do this together.”

That is a lie.

But, it’s an acceptable lie because she will be about a mile ahead of me on the course.

And, that’s okay.

She is racing competitively. I am looking to complete the course.

It is for a wonderful cause. We are building memories together.

Our family has had three people die of cancer. I know I will be thinking of them as I go through the course. I love them. I miss them. I hope some day soon we will be able to think of cancer as a thing of the past. What a blessing that will be when that day comes!

Wish us luck!

Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

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I signed up to do what?! — my upcoming adventures in the Race for the Cure

melindamcguirewrites

I blame my daughter

I am crawling walking/running a 5K this weekend.

I haven’t seen “physically fit” in about 10 years.

My oldest offspring said “let’s do this together.”

That is a lie.

But, it’s an acceptable lie because she will be about a mile ahead of me on the course.

And, that’s okay.

She is racing competitively. I am looking to complete the course.

It is for a wonderful cause. We are building memories together.

Our family has had three people die of cancer. I know I will be thinking of them as I go through the course. I love them. I miss them. I hope some day soon we will be able to think of cancer as a thing of the past. What a blessing that will be when that day comes!

Wish us luck!

Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

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Some people are born stupid but others have to work at it.

You’d have thought at my age I would have got the message.

A long time ago in another life people shot at me or tried to blow me up. Other people have tried to do me in, in a number of ways but I’ve always managed to get away with it – clearly since I’m not writing this from beyond the grave.

However, after fourty years of riding a motorbike I’ve nearly been killed so many times I can barely count. Smashing through someone’s windscreen face first on the motorway is not something I‘d ever like to repeat and heartily recommend others not to try. Sliding down the road at seventy miles an hour was not my happiest experience and hot engine oil pouring over me whilst trapped beneath a smashed bike didn’t do it for me either.

So why do I keep doing it? Just four days ago I was on a major arterial road leaving London when someone decided to change lanes (illegally) without warning and slam into me, sending me hurtling down the road on my hip beneath the bike; and when we finally came to rest and I realised I wasn’t dead, cringed in terror as I waited for the following truck to drive over my heard. Happily it swerved.

And the reason I repaired my bike and still didn’t sell it? The underground/tube prices are so incredibly expensive in this city that I simply cannot afford to use it.

I hear there’s a sale of ex military vehicles in Salisbury in a couple of months.

I wonder how much a tank would cost.

Painful but neccessary

I’ve just begun another edit of what I firmly believe, and hope is my best novel: The book Of Pain.

Yet within two pages I was reluctantly forced to get rid of almost a hundred words. Overused, repetitious, overly melodramatic, plain unneccessary and just downright wrong. I’ve been doing it again, which is to say falling in love with my own words. This edit began with 153k words. I wonder how many will be left at the end.

Here’s the first three pragraphs, which began as six.

“For over three hundred years he’d roamed the world, yet not a single day had passed without his thoughts returning to this evil place of the damned.

Above him the remains of the ancient abbey cowered beneath a gloomy canopy of overhanging oaks softly groaning under the relentless advance of mottled ivy. The once mighty branches now all but consumed within the parasite’s choking embrace, leaving just a weary congregation of deformed and strangulated sentinels patiently waiting for death in a place stripped of all magic and wonder.

Peering up at the chalky rock he grimaced at the winged griffins, horned cherubs and other even more grotesquely ornate creatures clinging to the stone arches, their faces contorted and determined that none would pass through the portals of the desiccated place. With a grim smile he recalled his terror and the hurried crossing of his feverishly beating heart every time he’d summoned the courage to look up, convinced that they had seen into his childish soul and spied his unconsciously evil intentions. The notion had never been entirely erased and still, after all this time they retained their menace. Quickly stumbling over the rubble covered ground he halted within the roofless interior. After all these centuries the livid scorch marks on the ancient oak beams had not faded as if the great fire had been just a few days ago. ”

I suspect even more will have to go but as all you writers will understand, it’s difficult to press delete on that which you’ve so long laboured.
Here’s the latest version of the cover, which like everythg else, will probably have to go.

bookofpain6

The pony’s got rust and the car has a new disease

I’ve probably got that the wrong way around, but any and every new disaster seems to take on epic proportions around my house these days.

Take last night, being selfishly asleep, my beloved (allegedly) daughter brought me back to life by almost dislocating my entire body.

“Dad!” and when that didn’t work, it being 03.30 and all, “Dad!!”

What, I mumbled. Had world war three started and ended whilst I was foolish enough to let down my guard?

“Can horses catch seizures?”

Not a difficult question to answer at that time of the morning since I probably wouldn’t know in the fullness of day.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

I took a moment to wonder if wedging one’s own offspring into the laundry basket was a crime.

“It’s not like a disease. They’re a symptom of something else…” I rambled on for another few seconds before deciding on the wisest course of action. I’m a pretty fair minded person so I opted for brevity.

“If you ever want to ride again, go back to bed.”

“Why?”

“‘Cos I’ll bite your legs off if you don’t go back to bed. In fact I’ll count to three and by the time I get to one you’d better be asleep, and more importantly – gone.”

I’ve also made some major inroads into three Hoodies 4, although logic dictates that I really should finish the editing of number three before it goes too far. Pretty soon I’ll have begun five before three has hit the market.

The news for which I’ve waited.

After almost two painfully slow months I finally received an email from …well it doesn’t matter which publishing house it was.

‘We liked the fast-paced action but felt it wasn’t right for our younger readers.”

Sufficed to say they don’t want it. Why they didn’t just pass it on to their adult dept is a question I never got to ask. Regardless; for even getting me a free read from a company which resolutely refuses to accept unsolicited MS’s, I am eternally grateful to Barbara of Marchhouse books.com

So the Porsche will have to wait just a little longer, but now at least it means that I can put Kongomato (my monster book) on all the other sites where my novels are advertised. Who knows, the patron saint of struggling writers might just look my way, and if he doesn’t, well I’ll do it on my own.

I finally get what I want, and I hate it.

For the first time in months my wife and daughter aren’t here. For some peculiar reason they’re watching a bunch of horses jumping over fences. Can’t see the point myself. After all, her demonic pony isn’t even in the show, hurling itself over, around and sometimes clean through multiple stacked buses, and multiple stacked onlookers.

So now I’ve got time to write without: “Are we ever going to see you again?” Or “That garage needs fixing”, or “the house needs moving an inch to the left”, and all the other mundane things we writers are illogically expected to perform when all we want to do is write.

Now, after a leisurely breakfast, answering my emails and finally set – I can’t do it. It’s not that I have writers block. I just don’t want to write. It’s Sunday; there’s bound to be at least one James Bond film and a plethora of black and white war epics simply begging for my attention.

I even tried painting but after waiting for the prog to load on my increasingly ancient machine, I couldn’t paint a thing. And a good thing too, some might say.

So I’m going to compromise. It’s almost 1.15 in the afternoon.

I’m going to bed.

I did some painting last night. I have no idea what I was thinking about.

Everest

Bublish

As usual I’m usually the last to find these things, but for any of you that haven’t heard of it, there’s a new vehicle for publishing or at least advertising your books.

You upload your books – in Epub form, then write a “Bubble” showing and inserting an excerpt of that book. You also have the opportunity to show every site that your book is to be found. It’s a good idea and all advertising is good advertising, right.

Here’s the link. http://bublish.com/

bublish-logo-300x95

Vortex – A rare book review

I don’t do a lot of book reviews but I’ve just finished vortex by Lyndsey J Parsons.
From present day England to a land full of goblins, elves, trolls and myriad magical creatures. Sounds like a children’s book but it isn’t. With good strong characters whom you either love or hate, the plot works very well and kept me riveted. I would certainly like to read another and just as importantly, perhaps a prequel to explain just how a certain character became, or was as mysterious as he is in the novel. Bring it on – I can’t wait.
41wNp5vhKOL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-68,22_AA300_SH20_OU02_

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