Three Hoodies Save the World

Constant moaning and whinging about everything


The new book is coming along quite well and I hope to have the first draft finished in a couple of months. However, as I’ve been described by some of my less than impressed readers of being genre-curious, and to stop confusing them, I’ve decided to publish this one under a pen name. Why?
‘Do you think it’s so rubbish, you don’t want your name associated with it?’ demanded my daughter in one of her rare moments of lucidity, which is to say when her face wasn’t surgically grafted to Face o Gram or whatever she loves this week.

And that might even be a part of the motive, but the main reason is that It’s completely different from what I usually write.

I’ve written a series of three horror novels, and a single novel which is a mixture of horror and suspense. The there were another series, this time of three Y/A SF novels, and a series of three adult SF novels, all of which have varying amounts of my version of humour.
I also came up with a compilation of short stories which was just plain weird, and another compilation of blog entries and reminiscences about my daughter and work, which are just as strange but different from each other.

My newest work is completely removed from all of those and that’s why I decided to use another name. Just what exactly I’m going to do about publishing it is unknown.

Do I put it on my blog? But then if I did I might as well just write it under my own name. Or do I mount a new publicity campaign in an attempt to sell it? But then if I did that, my other novels would be left out in the cold.
I think I’m talking myself out of it.

I wonder what the percentage is of indie writers who’ve spent a lot of money publicising their own work and actually made money or drawn even.
Ultimately I just love writing and I’ll continue to do it until my fingers drop off. However, just once it would be nice to worry if I left the keys to my Porsche in the swimming pool, the library or my personal helicopter.

I did once drop the keys to a boss’s Porsche in a swimming pool. Not so bad, except that they were electronic. His wrath was biblical.


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