Three Hoodies Save the World

Constant moaning and whinging about everything

Archive for the month “July, 2014”

Old Geezers 2 is a comin.

I thought I’d include the (probable) opening paragraphs for Old Geezers 2: The Back of Beyond. As you can see my old gits have not moderated either their tone or language. You’d have thought that nearly dying in a world of their own creation might have tempered them a little, but it seems not.
I’ve decided to edit this one first before I start on the Book of Pain.

” ‘You nearly get crushed to crap in an earthquake and then swallowed by a giant slavering monster – just for a lump of Iron Pyrite? You’re a total dickhead!’

Huddled groups of elderly occupants within the large, airy cafeteria shrank in unified loathing as the words of derision echoed about their heads. Such appalling behaviour upset the carefully contrived serenity of their genteel home and cast undignified shadows upon their twilight years. Unfortunately such outbursts were not an unusual occurrence which accounted for the very wide demarcation zone between them and the two old men slumped in the corner. Undeterred and even encouraged, the enormously unkempt speaker cackled loudly before continuing. ”

I’ve been looking forward to this if only so that I can continue with book 3 which is burning a hole in my head.


Giving in to The Man

I don’t know if I’m copping out but tonight I deleted my six novels from all sites except Amazon and joined all their schemes. I know it cuts my avenues down more than a little but even though I’ve had hundreds of free partial downloads on Smashwords, only seventeen people have actually parted with money, where I’d sold three copies of my new novel, Spawn of Kongomato within hours of putting it up on Amazon. Their self-serving rules are a little harsh but I thought I’d give it a go.

Although I love writing and will continue even if I never sold another novel, there’s nothing like the rush of selling books as all we authors know.

Call me childish but I just love those red spiky lines on the Amazon sales reports. I just wish it would go into double figures once in a while.

I’ll give it six months or so and review.

Creative Inertia strikes again.

Following the publication of Spawn of Kongomato last week I had few days of good sales before inertia crept in. (Can inertia creep anywhere?) I should have seized, struck and pounced. I should have capitalised, advertised and continued, but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t. The writing was done and the excitement ended.

I suspect that’s what separates me from the real writers – whatever that means. I do want sales, and indeed achieve a modest number, but as soon as one novel is finished, it’s over and time to move on. There are three more first drafts completed and waiting impatiently on my desktop, aided by that irritating message from Windows incessantly flashing and announcing that as I have never accessed these shortcuts then I should, for the sake of humanity, delete them. Swearing at my computer merely produces “That look” from my bionically endowed wife, the one promising myriad pain should I do it again in her presence, even though I’m usually in another part of the house, behind closed doors with Black Sabbath blaring from the speakers.

Incidentally, I also believe the same kind of torment might come from the mother of the eighteen month old baby next door who always stops crying every time “Evil Woman” comes on.

For someone’s benefit, certainly not mine, Amazon have come up with yet another scheme for ensuring us extra readers, and them extra revenue; and there are any amount of other sites offering, promising the same thing for just a little of our hard-earned. Smashwords has afforded me over three hundred downloads of my novels in the last few weeks of which seventeen were actually purchased. I try not to dwell on the thought that my books are so rubbish, no one wants them, telling myself that lots of people download free parts with the intention of reading them later, but never do.

So in the spirit of being a “real writer” I’m going to remove the shortcuts of the three finished and three unfinished novels from my desktop and actually begin marketing my books. Except that I had a great idea for another this morning. I’ll just sketch in a few details and then get onto it. Mind you I’ve just had…

I should have known better.

I’m slowly beginning to lose the Swamp Thing look. Scarlet fever has finally begun to depart. Great, I thought – back to normal.

So I ventured out of the house yesterday to breathe what passes for air in west London, and enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. I even did some of the gardening my beloved has been moaning about for months.

Perhaps I’m just getting old. I’m certainly not eighteen anymore, and clearly no longer have the resilience to tear pesky ivy roots out of the ground with a sneer of disdain. More like a howl of anguish.

Now I’m stuck in the house – again. I think I’ve torn just about every muscle in my back. My wife thinks I’m doing it for attention, but the pain is killing me and somewhere up there, someone’s laughing at my stupidity. Come to think of it someone’s laughing at lot closer than that.

‘Stay on your back old man’, she muttered in between giggles as she and my so-called daughter disappeared off to do whatever it is women do the very second after they’ve been paid.

If this is what it’s like to get old then they can keep it. I want to be eighteen again. Maybe there’s a pill.

I didn’t want to but needs must.

Given my recent sales of this particular book, or lack thereof, I’ve made Three Hoodies Save the world free on Smashwords. Hopefully it will get me some sales for numbers two, and three (which isn’t even published yet. I suspect that giving away books, upon which we’ve slaved for months, for free devalues all Ebooks, yet I see no other option than spending and possibly wasting a lot of money on sites offering/promising incredible results. I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I did I’m not sure I’d spend it like that.

Amazon is going to be a different proposition. Given their $0.99 minimum I’m hoping their price-match will catch the B/N, Nook etc price courtesy of S/W and drop their price to match. Only time will tell. Just to be polite I’ve told them what I’ve done. Whether they’ll answer or not remains to be seen.

The paperback version remains unchanged since I doubt Amazon/CreateSpace would print and send anything for nothing.

Pustules R us

‘Dad, I don’t want to be rotten but,’ she paused, contemplating her next assertion before obviously deciding that street cred’ was more important than the feelings of the swamp creature. She frowned and came to a decision. ‘If you’re really going to leave the house, then you’re on your own.’

Never mind that I cleared up gallons of projectile vomit, took my life in my hands fighting with toxic nappies, and redecorated her bedroom eighty times as her choice of boy-bands changed by the minute, but now, at my darkest hour, my alleged daughter doesn’t want to be seen with me. And this from someone who has an enormous poster of Justin Bieber on her wall!!!!!!!

‘It’s not like I don’t love you, but it’s just that…’

I knew what she was trying go say, but after a week of fighting a condition more revolting than the most lurid B movie special effect, I was tired, in pain and any vestige of humour gone with the cats who immediately bolt at the very sight of my red blobbiness.

‘I’m not contagious.’ I remind her, to no avail.

‘I know that,’ she said patiently, ‘but the rest of the world doesn’t. They’ll think you’re some kind of reject from Alien. And that’s Alien One,’ she reiterated, lest I’d missed her less than subtle movie reference.

Six days, went the blurb thrown at by a quivering doctor. After six days my revolting visage would return to normal.
‘Oh no,’ she tripped gaily said from the sanctuary of the telephone, today, a week later, ‘it could be up to three weeks. Just keep rubbing on the calomine. You’ll be fine.’ I resisted the impulse to inform her where she could insert the calomine.

On the upside…except there is no upside. I’m going to be a grumpy old git and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me.

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