25 April 2021
This is an excerpt from my third book called, for now, Working Title.
...when Hind was woken the following morning by the usual kicked door he was soaked in sweat.
He´d spent most of the night replaying the phone conversation over and over and he still wasn´t happy to do as he had been told. He knew nothing about Foster other than his link to Daisy and that he seemed to be the go-to man for everything on the wing. Even the screws seemed to love him. For fucks sake!
He decided to go for a shower after breakfast so when he went down to collect his breakfast he wasn´t looking his best. As he was checking his tray for the usual healthy sawdust stuff Foster appeared next to him.
Foster looked smart and happy. ´ How´s your bollocks for crabs today then?` he asked Hind
and received a nod for his efforts.
As Hind was making his way back to his cell Foster was next to him again. This time there was no funny remarks.
´ I´ve been told by a certain mutual acquaintance that you and I have some business to discuss. When do you want to do the business?`
Hind stopped and stared at him, tempted to tell him to fuck of but deciding against it. ´ I´ll let you know when I´ve decided how much, if anything, to tell you. Understand?`
Foster came straight back at him. ´ That was definitely not the answer I was expecting. Listen and listen good. When you come down for evening association I will be waiting for you in the BBC TV room. Ignore the ´ OUT OF ORDER, TV BROKEN` sign on the door and come in. I´ll be there. Don´t keep me waiting if you enjoy being in one piece.`
Before Hind could respond Foster walked away and was heading for the wing principal officer´s office. As he was knocking on the door he turned and, looking back at Hind, ran his right index finger across his throat. Hind stood and watched as he entered the office and closed the door behind him.
Hind walked slowly up the stairs and kicked the cell door shut behind him. He looked down at his breakfast and then threw the tray, including his mug of tea, against the back wall. As he sat on the bed he couldn´t stop the tears as they ran down his cheeks...
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
This is an excerpt from my third book called, for now, Working Title.
...when Hind was woken the following morning by the usual kicked door he was soaked in sweat.
He´d spent most of the night replaying the phone conversation over and over and he still wasn´t happy to do as he had been told. He knew nothing about Foster other than his link to Daisy and that he seemed to be the go-to man for everything on the wing. Even the screws seemed to love him. For fucks sake!
He decided to go for a shower after breakfast so when he went down to collect his breakfast he wasn´t looking his best. As he was checking his tray for the usual healthy sawdust stuff Foster appeared next to him.
Foster looked smart and happy. ´ How´s your bollocks for crabs today then?` he asked Hind
and received a nod for his efforts.
As Hind was making his way back to his cell Foster was next to him again. This time there was no funny remarks.
´ I´ve been told by a certain mutual acquaintance that you and I have some business to discuss. When do you want to do the business?`
Hind stopped and stared at him, tempted to tell him to fuck of but deciding against it. ´ I´ll let you know when I´ve decided how much, if anything, to tell you. Understand?`
Foster came straight back at him. ´ That was definitely not the answer I was expecting. Listen and listen good. When you come down for evening association I will be waiting for you in the BBC TV room. Ignore the ´ OUT OF ORDER, TV BROKEN` sign on the door and come in. I´ll be there. Don´t keep me waiting if you enjoy being in one piece.`
Before Hind could respond Foster walked away and was heading for the wing principal officer´s office. As he was knocking on the door he turned and, looking back at Hind, ran his right index finger across his throat. Hind stood and watched as he entered the office and closed the door behind him.
Hind walked slowly up the stairs and kicked the cell door shut behind him. He looked down at his breakfast and then threw the tray, including his mug of tea, against the back wall. As he sat on the bed he couldn´t stop the tears as they ran down his cheeks...
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
20 December 2020
I´ve been trying to work on both manuscripts and realise that I´m wasting time. So, New Year´s resolution is to concentrate on one. Sounds simple when you think about it but not so easy when your head is full of colliding ideas. So, for your consideration I´ve compiled some nice pics and silly cartoons about writing.
I´ve been trying to work on both manuscripts and realise that I´m wasting time. So, New Year´s resolution is to concentrate on one. Sounds simple when you think about it but not so easy when your head is full of colliding ideas. So, for your consideration I´ve compiled some nice pics and silly cartoons about writing.
........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
19 November 2020
This is another excerpt from The Obstreperous Peckham Boy.
´In Peckham you spoke
With your fists
Or you kissed
The ground.`
Up to my early teens I was always small for my age. People would pat me on the head and say that I was probably a slow developer. One said, whilst talking to my mother and with me standing next to her, that I had just about outgrown the requisite measurements to be a dwarf. He seemed to enjoy his stupid joke and my mother obviously did because she laughed and said that I didn´t need to join a circus.
This was another example of the casual cruelty that mother seemed to enjoy inflicting on me. I was old enough to understand the piss taking but not strong enough to object to her acid tongue. It hurt. Incidents as I´ve just described have stayed with me and leap forward in my memory, mostly when I´m on my own. This chapter describes my first real rebellion and it´s consequences.
I was at Gloucester Grove Primary School and nine years old. Another pupil, David Bean, was a year older than me and in a class above. Bean was much bigger than me, heavy with a red face. For some reason he must have decided that it was my turn to be at the top of his shit list because the bullying started.
He would come up behind me and push me or slap me on the head. If I were playing football in the playground he would wait until I was near him and try and trip me up. He never played football as far as I know. I put up with this because in those days you never thought of complaining to the teachers or the dinner ladies, of which my mother was one. Other boys must have noticed what was going on but did nothing because they were either frightened or couldn´t care less.
One afternoon I was walking along Gloucester Grove on my way home from school. Suddenly, I felt a pain in my back and I fell forward on to the pavement. I looked up and Bean was standing there laughing. I snapped.
I got up and challenged him to a fight. The words seemed to come out without me thinking about it. Bean just laughed. Some other boys had arrived and one of them, a big fit lad, shouted to Bean that he should fight or be a fucking coward, something like that.
I walked along a few yards and turned left in to an alleyway. I took my coat off, because I´d seen other lads do that before a fight, and waited. I was terrified. Bean walked in with the other boys following. He walked up to me and punched me on the shoulder. I stepped back and he seemed to lose his balance and stumbled. I moved forward and punched him on the side of the head and then on his mouth. He fell to his knees. I stepped back and waited.
The other boys were shouting that I should hit him again. I waited, not sure what as coming.
He got up and ran at me with his arm out wide like he was going to cuddle me. I remember turning as he was almost on me and I punched him as hard as I could on his nose. I though my right hand was on fire.
He stopped and as he slid down on to the pavement the tears came. His nose was bleeding.
The big lad who was watching came over and patted me on the shoulder. I though he was going to hit me. No, he said well done and told me to fuck off a bit lively. Bean was sitting down with his head in his hands, loads of blood on the pavement and on him. I had some on the front of my white shirt. I didn´t say anything because I couldn´t think of anything to say. I left the alleyway and walked home.
When I got home I went upstairs and mother immediately saw the blood on my shirt. She started screaming why it was there. I told her that David Bean was bullying me and I´d had enough. We had a fight and I won.
She slapped me twice around the face, which made me cry, and said that she was ashamed of me. She grabbed me by my left ear and walked me down to my bedroom where she watched me change my shirt. We then went to David Bean´s house in St Georges Way where she mad me apologise to Bean and his mother. Apparently, Bean had told his mother that he had slipped in a puddle and hurt his nose. I had watched and not offered to help him.
Mrs Bean and my mother talked for a few minutes and then we left and walked back to Peckham Grove. Mother never mentioned anything about it again.
The positive thing about it was that I was never bullied again.
..................................................................................................................................................................................
15 August 2020.
This is a further excerpt from Working Title.
The massive sliding gate opened and the coach eased its way into the vehicle lock. The place was quiet. Hind remembered that the place was always quiet. The prisoners in Gartree always considered themselves a cut above the normal and screaming and shouting from the windows was a definite no no.
The coach stopped outside a window and a few feet from the inner gate. Hind was craning his neck to see if there were any faces he recognised. When he was last at Gartree he was definitely not popular with the staff. No one he knew. Good
The bus door clicked open and Senior Officer Middleton stepped off the coach and entered the office. The bus door clicked shut.
Five minutes had passed when the door clicked open and a tall, muscular principal officer climbed up the steps and stood by the driver. Principal Officer John French stared at the prisoners and smiled. The prisoners stared back and remained silent. Hind recognised him and tried not to stare.
French continued to stare and then slowly withdrew a wooden stave from the pocket in his trousers. He started to gently tap the stave against his leg.
´Ladies, welcome to Her Majesty´s Prison Gartree. My name is French. We have the misfortune to be looking after most of the scumbags of which other prisons across the country have had enough. We have made them welcome because this is the end of the line. When you come to us you have either reached the top of the shit heap, or the bottom, depending on your point of view. But, be in no doubt, we are in charge and the naughty step is waiting for anyone who steps out of line.`
He paused as two prison officer´s squeezed past him and walked up to Downs. Although Downs was handcuffed, the first officer grabbed his right hand and placed him in a wrist lock. Downs yelped and received a slap round the head from the second officer. The other prisoners, including Hind, stayed silent.
Downs was dragged from the coach, swearing and crying. French remained at the front of the coach gently tapping the stave against his leg. ´There, that went well didn´t it. Prisoner Downs will be our guest for a few days. A couple of our better known kiddy fiddlers have expressed the wish to nurse Downs back to full health. Be a shame not to let them. So, toodle pip, have a safe onward journey to the Smoke.`
French turned, slid the stave back into his trouser pocket and moved towards the steps by the door, and stopped. He turned and smiled. ´Don´t think I haven't seen you at the back, Hind. Still the same violent creature you always were, eh? Mr Middleton has told me that you were a gobby little shite hawk on the way here. Is that right?`
Hind remained silent.
´Cat got your tongue?`
Hind remained silent.
´Well, I´ve never known you be so quiet. You being the big tough guy, eh?`
Hind remained silent.
´I was going to be the perfect host and accept you back into our happy community but my staff, caring and sharing to a fault, have reminded me what a fucking waste of space you are, a non entity, a spent force, a nobody. So, I´ve agreed with them that there is no room in the inn for you. Scrubs it is.`With that he turned, waved and stepped off the bus. After a few moments the bus erupted with laughter from both the prisoners and staff.
Hind sat perfectly still, his face crimson with embarrassment. For the first time in his life he felt helpless. All he could do was look down at his handcuffs and clench his teeth. The prisoner next to him started to laugh and Hind´s humiliation was complete. He closed his eyes as the coach left Gartree and headed towards London.
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
This is another excerpt from The Obstreperous Peckham Boy.
´In Peckham you spoke
With your fists
Or you kissed
The ground.`
Up to my early teens I was always small for my age. People would pat me on the head and say that I was probably a slow developer. One said, whilst talking to my mother and with me standing next to her, that I had just about outgrown the requisite measurements to be a dwarf. He seemed to enjoy his stupid joke and my mother obviously did because she laughed and said that I didn´t need to join a circus.
This was another example of the casual cruelty that mother seemed to enjoy inflicting on me. I was old enough to understand the piss taking but not strong enough to object to her acid tongue. It hurt. Incidents as I´ve just described have stayed with me and leap forward in my memory, mostly when I´m on my own. This chapter describes my first real rebellion and it´s consequences.
I was at Gloucester Grove Primary School and nine years old. Another pupil, David Bean, was a year older than me and in a class above. Bean was much bigger than me, heavy with a red face. For some reason he must have decided that it was my turn to be at the top of his shit list because the bullying started.
He would come up behind me and push me or slap me on the head. If I were playing football in the playground he would wait until I was near him and try and trip me up. He never played football as far as I know. I put up with this because in those days you never thought of complaining to the teachers or the dinner ladies, of which my mother was one. Other boys must have noticed what was going on but did nothing because they were either frightened or couldn´t care less.
One afternoon I was walking along Gloucester Grove on my way home from school. Suddenly, I felt a pain in my back and I fell forward on to the pavement. I looked up and Bean was standing there laughing. I snapped.
I got up and challenged him to a fight. The words seemed to come out without me thinking about it. Bean just laughed. Some other boys had arrived and one of them, a big fit lad, shouted to Bean that he should fight or be a fucking coward, something like that.
I walked along a few yards and turned left in to an alleyway. I took my coat off, because I´d seen other lads do that before a fight, and waited. I was terrified. Bean walked in with the other boys following. He walked up to me and punched me on the shoulder. I stepped back and he seemed to lose his balance and stumbled. I moved forward and punched him on the side of the head and then on his mouth. He fell to his knees. I stepped back and waited.
The other boys were shouting that I should hit him again. I waited, not sure what as coming.
He got up and ran at me with his arm out wide like he was going to cuddle me. I remember turning as he was almost on me and I punched him as hard as I could on his nose. I though my right hand was on fire.
He stopped and as he slid down on to the pavement the tears came. His nose was bleeding.
The big lad who was watching came over and patted me on the shoulder. I though he was going to hit me. No, he said well done and told me to fuck off a bit lively. Bean was sitting down with his head in his hands, loads of blood on the pavement and on him. I had some on the front of my white shirt. I didn´t say anything because I couldn´t think of anything to say. I left the alleyway and walked home.
When I got home I went upstairs and mother immediately saw the blood on my shirt. She started screaming why it was there. I told her that David Bean was bullying me and I´d had enough. We had a fight and I won.
She slapped me twice around the face, which made me cry, and said that she was ashamed of me. She grabbed me by my left ear and walked me down to my bedroom where she watched me change my shirt. We then went to David Bean´s house in St Georges Way where she mad me apologise to Bean and his mother. Apparently, Bean had told his mother that he had slipped in a puddle and hurt his nose. I had watched and not offered to help him.
Mrs Bean and my mother talked for a few minutes and then we left and walked back to Peckham Grove. Mother never mentioned anything about it again.
The positive thing about it was that I was never bullied again.
..................................................................................................................................................................................
15 August 2020.
This is a further excerpt from Working Title.
The massive sliding gate opened and the coach eased its way into the vehicle lock. The place was quiet. Hind remembered that the place was always quiet. The prisoners in Gartree always considered themselves a cut above the normal and screaming and shouting from the windows was a definite no no.
The coach stopped outside a window and a few feet from the inner gate. Hind was craning his neck to see if there were any faces he recognised. When he was last at Gartree he was definitely not popular with the staff. No one he knew. Good
The bus door clicked open and Senior Officer Middleton stepped off the coach and entered the office. The bus door clicked shut.
Five minutes had passed when the door clicked open and a tall, muscular principal officer climbed up the steps and stood by the driver. Principal Officer John French stared at the prisoners and smiled. The prisoners stared back and remained silent. Hind recognised him and tried not to stare.
French continued to stare and then slowly withdrew a wooden stave from the pocket in his trousers. He started to gently tap the stave against his leg.
´Ladies, welcome to Her Majesty´s Prison Gartree. My name is French. We have the misfortune to be looking after most of the scumbags of which other prisons across the country have had enough. We have made them welcome because this is the end of the line. When you come to us you have either reached the top of the shit heap, or the bottom, depending on your point of view. But, be in no doubt, we are in charge and the naughty step is waiting for anyone who steps out of line.`
He paused as two prison officer´s squeezed past him and walked up to Downs. Although Downs was handcuffed, the first officer grabbed his right hand and placed him in a wrist lock. Downs yelped and received a slap round the head from the second officer. The other prisoners, including Hind, stayed silent.
Downs was dragged from the coach, swearing and crying. French remained at the front of the coach gently tapping the stave against his leg. ´There, that went well didn´t it. Prisoner Downs will be our guest for a few days. A couple of our better known kiddy fiddlers have expressed the wish to nurse Downs back to full health. Be a shame not to let them. So, toodle pip, have a safe onward journey to the Smoke.`
French turned, slid the stave back into his trouser pocket and moved towards the steps by the door, and stopped. He turned and smiled. ´Don´t think I haven't seen you at the back, Hind. Still the same violent creature you always were, eh? Mr Middleton has told me that you were a gobby little shite hawk on the way here. Is that right?`
Hind remained silent.
´Cat got your tongue?`
Hind remained silent.
´Well, I´ve never known you be so quiet. You being the big tough guy, eh?`
Hind remained silent.
´I was going to be the perfect host and accept you back into our happy community but my staff, caring and sharing to a fault, have reminded me what a fucking waste of space you are, a non entity, a spent force, a nobody. So, I´ve agreed with them that there is no room in the inn for you. Scrubs it is.`With that he turned, waved and stepped off the bus. After a few moments the bus erupted with laughter from both the prisoners and staff.
Hind sat perfectly still, his face crimson with embarrassment. For the first time in his life he felt helpless. All he could do was look down at his handcuffs and clench his teeth. The prisoner next to him started to laugh and Hind´s humiliation was complete. He closed his eyes as the coach left Gartree and headed towards London.
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
4 July 2020
I´m busy working on both manuscripts and should be able to post excerpts from both next time.
I´m busy working on both manuscripts and should be able to post excerpts from both next time.
8 May 2020
Busy on both Working Title and The Obstreperous Peckham Boy. One requires me to link my imagination to the plot and the other requires no imagination just the courage to dig.
More excerpts in the coming weeks.
Busy on both Working Title and The Obstreperous Peckham Boy. One requires me to link my imagination to the plot and the other requires no imagination just the courage to dig.
More excerpts in the coming weeks.
25 April 2020
I have no pics to go with this page so I am offering you a further excerpt from Working Title followed by an excerpt from my autobiography which I intend to call The Obstreperous Peckham Boy. Some of you may recognise the title from a collection of poems I published last year.
Working Title
Michael ´Daisy`Massey was angry. Bloody angry. The triple shots of vodka dispensed by his ´best boy` Terry was not doing very much to calm him.
Daisy, he insisted on being addressed by his nickname, was sitting on the edge of one of his favourite occasional chairs. He liked to stroke the velvet material, which had cleaned up well after the previous owner had bled to death whilst sitting on it.
His boys were sitting crosslegged, hands on laps, in a semi circle in front of him. Daisy liked to sit and stare at them as that way he could tell if one of them had been a naughty boy. Just a week earlier he had guessed, rightly, that as Tony was fidgeting and not paying attention as the others were.
He had dismissed the boys and asked Tony to stay behind. As soon as they were on their own Tony started to explain, stuttering at a hundred miles an hour, that he hadn´t meant to keep the fifty quid, he´d just forgotten to give it back. Daisy had nodded and beckoned Tony to come to him and be hugged. Tony did as instructed and received a broken nose, two cracked ribs and the promise that if it ever happened again he would be a dead man.
The expensive CD player was playing the Paul Weller album Stanley Road, a favourite of Daisy´s. He liked Weller because he came across as a ´don´t fuck with me type of guy´. Daisy saw himself as that type of guy.
His boys were fed up to the back teeth of listening to Daisy go on and on about the 250K of drugs which he had lost in the riot which had razed Raymar prison to the ground.
Terry had tried to calm him by administering his favourite hand shandy but that had only succeeded in shooting the vodka over the nearest boy. Terry and the boys sat in silence for twenty minutes.
The silence was shattered when Daisy whistled to Terry, who stood and handed fifty quid to each of the boys. The boys stood, nodded to Daisy and left the room without a word. Daisy waited until the last boy had closed the door before kissing Terry hard on the lips. Terry responded by squeezing Daisy´s bulging biceps before turning and quietly leaving the room.
Daisy moved over to the window to watch his boys driving away in their wildly different cars. There was a nearly new Jaguar, a classic Ford Escort XR3i and a good selection in between. He loved his boys and knew that they loved him. He looked after them and he knew that they would die for him.
.......................................................................... ....................................................................................
The Obstreperous Peckham Boy
My mother was Lily Emily Maude Wilcox and my father was Arthur Wilcox. My Nan, whom I remember most during the early years, was known as Ginger Colley, because of the vivid colour of her hair. I´m ashamed to say that I can´t remember her christian name. I´m ashamed because I loved her.
My earliest memory is sitting in a big, black pram as Nan pushed me along the middle of Peckham Grove up to the Samuel Jones factory and back. Initially, my Mother worked at Samuel Jones before becoming a dinner lady at Gloucester Grove Primary School.
Nan was blessed with a very short temper. I would see her before I went to school at Gloucester Grove and she would be waiting for me when I got home. She used to make rice puddings with a top that you could stand on. If I were cheeky, which frequently happened, I would run out of her kitchen, up the short flight of stairs and tear along the passage hoping to get through the back door before she caught me.
Nan being Nan didn´t waste breath. As I reached the door one of her black handled carving knives would thud into the door next to me. Her aim was usually pretty good and I don´t believe that she meant to hurt me. The knives occasionally actually stuck in the door, which I thought was amazing.
On one occasion the knife actually stuck in me but fell out before I could grab it. Nan rushed up and cuddled me telling me she loved me. She never said sorry or asked me not to tell my Mother. I loved Nan.
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
I have no pics to go with this page so I am offering you a further excerpt from Working Title followed by an excerpt from my autobiography which I intend to call The Obstreperous Peckham Boy. Some of you may recognise the title from a collection of poems I published last year.
Working Title
Michael ´Daisy`Massey was angry. Bloody angry. The triple shots of vodka dispensed by his ´best boy` Terry was not doing very much to calm him.
Daisy, he insisted on being addressed by his nickname, was sitting on the edge of one of his favourite occasional chairs. He liked to stroke the velvet material, which had cleaned up well after the previous owner had bled to death whilst sitting on it.
His boys were sitting crosslegged, hands on laps, in a semi circle in front of him. Daisy liked to sit and stare at them as that way he could tell if one of them had been a naughty boy. Just a week earlier he had guessed, rightly, that as Tony was fidgeting and not paying attention as the others were.
He had dismissed the boys and asked Tony to stay behind. As soon as they were on their own Tony started to explain, stuttering at a hundred miles an hour, that he hadn´t meant to keep the fifty quid, he´d just forgotten to give it back. Daisy had nodded and beckoned Tony to come to him and be hugged. Tony did as instructed and received a broken nose, two cracked ribs and the promise that if it ever happened again he would be a dead man.
The expensive CD player was playing the Paul Weller album Stanley Road, a favourite of Daisy´s. He liked Weller because he came across as a ´don´t fuck with me type of guy´. Daisy saw himself as that type of guy.
His boys were fed up to the back teeth of listening to Daisy go on and on about the 250K of drugs which he had lost in the riot which had razed Raymar prison to the ground.
Terry had tried to calm him by administering his favourite hand shandy but that had only succeeded in shooting the vodka over the nearest boy. Terry and the boys sat in silence for twenty minutes.
The silence was shattered when Daisy whistled to Terry, who stood and handed fifty quid to each of the boys. The boys stood, nodded to Daisy and left the room without a word. Daisy waited until the last boy had closed the door before kissing Terry hard on the lips. Terry responded by squeezing Daisy´s bulging biceps before turning and quietly leaving the room.
Daisy moved over to the window to watch his boys driving away in their wildly different cars. There was a nearly new Jaguar, a classic Ford Escort XR3i and a good selection in between. He loved his boys and knew that they loved him. He looked after them and he knew that they would die for him.
.......................................................................... ....................................................................................
The Obstreperous Peckham Boy
My mother was Lily Emily Maude Wilcox and my father was Arthur Wilcox. My Nan, whom I remember most during the early years, was known as Ginger Colley, because of the vivid colour of her hair. I´m ashamed to say that I can´t remember her christian name. I´m ashamed because I loved her.
My earliest memory is sitting in a big, black pram as Nan pushed me along the middle of Peckham Grove up to the Samuel Jones factory and back. Initially, my Mother worked at Samuel Jones before becoming a dinner lady at Gloucester Grove Primary School.
Nan was blessed with a very short temper. I would see her before I went to school at Gloucester Grove and she would be waiting for me when I got home. She used to make rice puddings with a top that you could stand on. If I were cheeky, which frequently happened, I would run out of her kitchen, up the short flight of stairs and tear along the passage hoping to get through the back door before she caught me.
Nan being Nan didn´t waste breath. As I reached the door one of her black handled carving knives would thud into the door next to me. Her aim was usually pretty good and I don´t believe that she meant to hurt me. The knives occasionally actually stuck in the door, which I thought was amazing.
On one occasion the knife actually stuck in me but fell out before I could grab it. Nan rushed up and cuddled me telling me she loved me. She never said sorry or asked me not to tell my Mother. I loved Nan.
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
1 January 2020
As you can see I´ve changed the header on this page to WORKING TITLE. I´m now working on the third part of the trilogy to complete the story which developed in Lock-Down Blues and Unlock These Hands. I offer to you for your consideration an excerpt from Working Title.
As you can see I´ve changed the header on this page to WORKING TITLE. I´m now working on the third part of the trilogy to complete the story which developed in Lock-Down Blues and Unlock These Hands. I offer to you for your consideration an excerpt from Working Title.
Excerpt from the next novel,
WORKING TITLE
...A wing gates in the smoke and confusion. He knew that he wouldn´t be able to get back on the wing but he would worry about that later. He was 14 years into a life sentence and nothing much really bothered him any more. Prison was prison, get over it. The staff had him marked down as a bad boy, which amused and satisfied him. No one had ever disrespected him before.
Hind had quickly weighed up his options and decided that it was as good a time as any. Pay back time. He had no idea why Bird might be heading for the gym because there was a fucking riot in full bloom. But, any port in a storm was Hind´s philosophy. So he followed Bird and to his immense surprise found that the man had keys. Screws keys. To get screw´s keys would mean doing something naughty because they were usually attached to the owner by a chain.
Hind stayed back until Bird had opened the door, stepped through and was about to re-lock the door. Hind ran forward and crashed into the door, knocking Bird backwards on to the floor. As Bird was scrabbling to get up, Hind grabbed one of the empty dumbbell bars stacked just inside the door and smashed Bird on the top of his head. Bird looked up at him and then sank slowly back on to the floor. Hind inspected his handy work, and found to his satisfaction, that the bar had created a nice deep dent in Bird´s skull from which blood was pouring. Hind checked Bird and wasn´t surprised to see that he was unconscious.
Hind quickly checked the office and showers and found both empty. The gym staff were probably involved in the riot, poor darlings. Having Bird unconscious was not on the agenda so Hind stood over him, unzipped his denims and urinated over his face. Hind was just about running on empty when Bird stirred. Hind zipped himself up and knelt by Bird. The blood had almost stopped so a couple of hard slaps to Birds face had the desired effect.
Bird eventually focussed on Hind and started to swear. Hind crashed the bar into Birds groin and the swearing turned in screams. Hind lent forward and gently pressed down on Birds mouth. The screaming stopped.
Over the next fifteen minutes Bird told Hind about the drug scam that had been going on in the gym when the badminton marathon had been in progress. He gave up the names of the other prisoners involved and the staff. When Hind asked who had financed the drugs, Bird said that it was some London gangster called Daisy. Hind nodded, satisfied that Bird was of no more use to him.
As he was pleading for his life, Hind smiled and placed his left index finger over Birds trembling lips as he repeatedly smashed the bar down on the bloody head.
Hind looked down at him and smiled, clicking his fingers. He always clicked his fingers when he got excited. Killing Bird had got him excited. As he clicked he started tapping the dumbbell bar against Bird´s head. The mess of Bird´s head prevented the sound of a proper beat to go with the clicks, but it didn´t matter. Bird was dead. He was a dead beat. That thought made Hind giggle...
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
30 June 2019
Since the last update I have given a talk to the good people of the Denia U3A. The event was held at Denia´s Casa Cultura where the facilities are excellent. Sylvana and Ken welcomed me and the audience feedback was excellent. I will be speaking to Vall del Pop U3A and Gandia U3A in the Autumn.
Unlock These Hands continues to be well received and I´m presently working on the third element of the trilogy. Watch this space.
Although strictly nothing to do with my book work, I´m happy that my 70thbirthday project will be ready to be circulated before 17 July. I´ve compiled 70 of my poems, particular pieces which have special meanings to me. As I mentioned in my March post, a few unlucky friends will receive a copy...
WORKING TITLE
...A wing gates in the smoke and confusion. He knew that he wouldn´t be able to get back on the wing but he would worry about that later. He was 14 years into a life sentence and nothing much really bothered him any more. Prison was prison, get over it. The staff had him marked down as a bad boy, which amused and satisfied him. No one had ever disrespected him before.
Hind had quickly weighed up his options and decided that it was as good a time as any. Pay back time. He had no idea why Bird might be heading for the gym because there was a fucking riot in full bloom. But, any port in a storm was Hind´s philosophy. So he followed Bird and to his immense surprise found that the man had keys. Screws keys. To get screw´s keys would mean doing something naughty because they were usually attached to the owner by a chain.
Hind stayed back until Bird had opened the door, stepped through and was about to re-lock the door. Hind ran forward and crashed into the door, knocking Bird backwards on to the floor. As Bird was scrabbling to get up, Hind grabbed one of the empty dumbbell bars stacked just inside the door and smashed Bird on the top of his head. Bird looked up at him and then sank slowly back on to the floor. Hind inspected his handy work, and found to his satisfaction, that the bar had created a nice deep dent in Bird´s skull from which blood was pouring. Hind checked Bird and wasn´t surprised to see that he was unconscious.
Hind quickly checked the office and showers and found both empty. The gym staff were probably involved in the riot, poor darlings. Having Bird unconscious was not on the agenda so Hind stood over him, unzipped his denims and urinated over his face. Hind was just about running on empty when Bird stirred. Hind zipped himself up and knelt by Bird. The blood had almost stopped so a couple of hard slaps to Birds face had the desired effect.
Bird eventually focussed on Hind and started to swear. Hind crashed the bar into Birds groin and the swearing turned in screams. Hind lent forward and gently pressed down on Birds mouth. The screaming stopped.
Over the next fifteen minutes Bird told Hind about the drug scam that had been going on in the gym when the badminton marathon had been in progress. He gave up the names of the other prisoners involved and the staff. When Hind asked who had financed the drugs, Bird said that it was some London gangster called Daisy. Hind nodded, satisfied that Bird was of no more use to him.
As he was pleading for his life, Hind smiled and placed his left index finger over Birds trembling lips as he repeatedly smashed the bar down on the bloody head.
Hind looked down at him and smiled, clicking his fingers. He always clicked his fingers when he got excited. Killing Bird had got him excited. As he clicked he started tapping the dumbbell bar against Bird´s head. The mess of Bird´s head prevented the sound of a proper beat to go with the clicks, but it didn´t matter. Bird was dead. He was a dead beat. That thought made Hind giggle...
.....................................................................................................................................................................................
30 June 2019
Since the last update I have given a talk to the good people of the Denia U3A. The event was held at Denia´s Casa Cultura where the facilities are excellent. Sylvana and Ken welcomed me and the audience feedback was excellent. I will be speaking to Vall del Pop U3A and Gandia U3A in the Autumn.
Unlock These Hands continues to be well received and I´m presently working on the third element of the trilogy. Watch this space.
Although strictly nothing to do with my book work, I´m happy that my 70thbirthday project will be ready to be circulated before 17 July. I´ve compiled 70 of my poems, particular pieces which have special meanings to me. As I mentioned in my March post, a few unlucky friends will receive a copy...
5 March 2019
The book is proving to be a popular read. Just before we left for our Canadian adventure, we had a visit from local journalist Jack Troughton.
Jack is popular across the Costa Blanca because his work is accurate, to the point and, when necessary, challenges what has been accepted as the norm. Jack wrote an article about my time in the Service and Unlock These Hands and it appeared in the Costa Blanca News in January. The feedback has been good. Thanks Jack.
A few days ago I gave a talk to members of the Javea U3A about my time in the Service and the changes I had witnessed.I enjoyed the meeting and it gave us the opportunity to meet Doug and Dee again. At the end I asked for questions and we spent the next 20 minutes covering rehabilitation, the management of terrorists and capital punishment.
A lady asked if I would support the return of capital punishment. I replied that I would because violence and knife-related crime particularly murder was out of control in the major UK cities, especially London. Those committing murder would, if caught, be sentenced to life imprisonment. For many offenders, the thought of spending many years behind bars was a risk that they were prepared to take. Add to that is the fact that our police resources are at an all-time low, so the chances of the offenders being caught are reduced.
If capital punishment was reintroduced I believe that the number of murders would diminish. If one life was saved because the offender thought about the consequences of committing the ultimate crime, then it would be justified. My answer to the lady was YES.
The book is proving to be a popular read. Just before we left for our Canadian adventure, we had a visit from local journalist Jack Troughton.
Jack is popular across the Costa Blanca because his work is accurate, to the point and, when necessary, challenges what has been accepted as the norm. Jack wrote an article about my time in the Service and Unlock These Hands and it appeared in the Costa Blanca News in January. The feedback has been good. Thanks Jack.
A few days ago I gave a talk to members of the Javea U3A about my time in the Service and the changes I had witnessed.I enjoyed the meeting and it gave us the opportunity to meet Doug and Dee again. At the end I asked for questions and we spent the next 20 minutes covering rehabilitation, the management of terrorists and capital punishment.
A lady asked if I would support the return of capital punishment. I replied that I would because violence and knife-related crime particularly murder was out of control in the major UK cities, especially London. Those committing murder would, if caught, be sentenced to life imprisonment. For many offenders, the thought of spending many years behind bars was a risk that they were prepared to take. Add to that is the fact that our police resources are at an all-time low, so the chances of the offenders being caught are reduced.
If capital punishment was reintroduced I believe that the number of murders would diminish. If one life was saved because the offender thought about the consequences of committing the ultimate crime, then it would be justified. My answer to the lady was YES.
19 November 2018
My promotion work for Unlock These hands, in Spain, was mostly stalled for obvious reasons. During the summer period I did manage a couple of book signing sessions at Polly´s Bookshop in Javea. Big thanks to David and Eileen, Jenni and Willi, Mandy, Hilary, Lucinda and Alastair for coming along to support me. The first session was great, the second one was ´more relaxed`. Sam and Amanda were the perfect hosts. Next time you are in Javea, take a few minutes to visit the book shop. You will not be disappointed. Find directions to the bookshop on Facebook.
On Sunday 4 November I attended a Christmas Fair in Javea and had a very successful afternoon, signing copies of Unlock These Hands and my first novel Lock-Down Blues. Once again, thanks to David and Eileen for their support and for a visit from Lesley, editor of Female Focus, who reminded me to submit an article for inclusion in the December edition of this popular magazine. Also, I´m looking forward to putting together an article with Jack Troughton, respected freelance journalist on the Costa Blanca. The biggest surprise of the afternoon was meeting the present governor of a UK prison. She confirmed my fears that the Service is struggling under the weight of privatisation and an increasing shortage of properly trained staff.
Early in 2019, I will be attending a number of Costa Blanca U3A meetings to speak about my experiences in the UK Prison Service, the Service problems at present and my novels.
Unlock These Hands is available on Amazon. I also have a few copies and can be contacted by using the Contact page on this
website or at raywilcoxauthor@gmail.com
My promotion work for Unlock These hands, in Spain, was mostly stalled for obvious reasons. During the summer period I did manage a couple of book signing sessions at Polly´s Bookshop in Javea. Big thanks to David and Eileen, Jenni and Willi, Mandy, Hilary, Lucinda and Alastair for coming along to support me. The first session was great, the second one was ´more relaxed`. Sam and Amanda were the perfect hosts. Next time you are in Javea, take a few minutes to visit the book shop. You will not be disappointed. Find directions to the bookshop on Facebook.
On Sunday 4 November I attended a Christmas Fair in Javea and had a very successful afternoon, signing copies of Unlock These Hands and my first novel Lock-Down Blues. Once again, thanks to David and Eileen for their support and for a visit from Lesley, editor of Female Focus, who reminded me to submit an article for inclusion in the December edition of this popular magazine. Also, I´m looking forward to putting together an article with Jack Troughton, respected freelance journalist on the Costa Blanca. The biggest surprise of the afternoon was meeting the present governor of a UK prison. She confirmed my fears that the Service is struggling under the weight of privatisation and an increasing shortage of properly trained staff.
Early in 2019, I will be attending a number of Costa Blanca U3A meetings to speak about my experiences in the UK Prison Service, the Service problems at present and my novels.
Unlock These Hands is available on Amazon. I also have a few copies and can be contacted by using the Contact page on this
website or at raywilcoxauthor@gmail.com
19 May 2018
I will be signing copies of Unlock These Hands at Polly´s Bookshop in Javea on Saturday 26 May from 11 - 2.
You will find directions to the bookshop on Facebook.
A big thanks to Sam for making this happen.
Hope to see you there.
I will be signing copies of Unlock These Hands at Polly´s Bookshop in Javea on Saturday 26 May from 11 - 2.
You will find directions to the bookshop on Facebook.
A big thanks to Sam for making this happen.
Hope to see you there.
23 April 2018
As mentioned earlier, my latest novel Unlock These Hands was published on 30 March and is available in paperback and ebook on Amazon.. It is the sequel to my first novel Lock-Down Blues.
I am now in the position of being able to start to promote the book in Spain, initially on weekends. My last experience in promoting a book, with Lock-Down Blues, was both profitable and entertaining.
More news as it happens.
........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
26 January 2018
No more news as of today. Patience was never one of my strong points.........
8 January 2018
I´m pleased to say that I´ve spent the past few days checking the latest set of manuscript proofs and, apart from a few amendments, we are almost there.
The front cover was agreed months ago so, apart from signing the completion certificate when it arrives, it´s job done.
Checking through the draft manuscript, line by line, has been a labour of love because I enjoy the whole process of writing.
I´m looking forward to seeing the finished book published and it would be great if it were ready to go on the shelves in time for Easter.
We will see.
No more news as of today. Patience was never one of my strong points.........
8 January 2018
I´m pleased to say that I´ve spent the past few days checking the latest set of manuscript proofs and, apart from a few amendments, we are almost there.
The front cover was agreed months ago so, apart from signing the completion certificate when it arrives, it´s job done.
Checking through the draft manuscript, line by line, has been a labour of love because I enjoy the whole process of writing.
I´m looking forward to seeing the finished book published and it would be great if it were ready to go on the shelves in time for Easter.
We will see.
16 July 2017
Yesterday, I finished the first round of proof corrections of
Unlock These Hands. The persons checking the manuscripts at the publishers certainly know their stuff.
Also, progress is being made with the front cover. I´m hoping that the finished work will be ready for publication before Christmas.
Yesterday, I finished the first round of proof corrections of
Unlock These Hands. The persons checking the manuscripts at the publishers certainly know their stuff.
Also, progress is being made with the front cover. I´m hoping that the finished work will be ready for publication before Christmas.
14 June 2017
The first draft of the front cover of Unlock These Hands was very close to the outline of ideas which I had originally sent to the publishers.
I showed the draft to close friends and they all agreed with the suggestions which Margaret and I had already come up with. I returned our suggested alterations to the publishers and they agreed! We´re looking forward to the next draft.
On Monday I received a long email from the publishers with the manuscript as an attachment. It was proof reading time.
I´ll be settling down over the next few days and working on a few pages at a time. My previous experiences with Lock-Down Blues taught me to take my time and not work until my eyes start crossing.
More news next time.
The first draft of the front cover of Unlock These Hands was very close to the outline of ideas which I had originally sent to the publishers.
I showed the draft to close friends and they all agreed with the suggestions which Margaret and I had already come up with. I returned our suggested alterations to the publishers and they agreed! We´re looking forward to the next draft.
On Monday I received a long email from the publishers with the manuscript as an attachment. It was proof reading time.
I´ll be settling down over the next few days and working on a few pages at a time. My previous experiences with Lock-Down Blues taught me to take my time and not work until my eyes start crossing.
More news next time.
|
Unlock these hands
11 May 2017 As I was writing this post, yesterday evening, I received an email from the publishers with a draft front cover for me to consider and comment on. They certainly followed my suggestions. I´ll be responding early next week. Unlock These Hands 26 March 2017 We have now started the process of working with the publishers to turn my manuscript into a book. I´ve given my idea´s how the cover should look and drafted a Blurb (for the back page). My Blub effort for Lock-Down Blues was not used so I hope I´ve done a better job this time. More news next time.
14 August 2016
Lock-Down Blues continues to sell after just over two years. The sequel, Unlock These Hands is with the publishers. I'm undecided if the story stops there or if there is one more in the pipeline. Time will tell. 
3 July 2016
I recently submitted the full manuscript of my new novel to the publishers. It is the sequel to Lock-Down Blues. On the Short Story page I am publishing an excerpt. It features one of the main characters. I hope you find it interesting. More news about the new book as it happens. 21 September 2015
Received a letter from my publishers outlining sales for both paperback and ebooks. The results are extremely encouraging. I was pleased to read that Lock-Down Blues was well received at a book fair in America. More news when I get it. The sequel, working title Fresh Start, is progressing well. I hope to be putting the finishing touches to the first complete draft when I'm 'resting' in the coming weeks. Some of you will already have read some short excerpts. There are more to come. Final thought. A wise sage once said that everyone has a book in them. If you've got the urge, an inkling or just the very rough idea floating around in your head, give in and do it. Start writing. Some use computers or pen. I always work with a pencil. Whatever floats your boat, get started. There's nothing quite like holding the first copy of YOUR book. Winter's coming, you've got the perfect excuse. Trust me, it does become addictive. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 23 May 2015
I should receive my report, in August, which will give a whole years sales figures. I know that sales on Amazon are steady and I saw a less than complimentary review, which was posted in January. At least the lady took the time to buy and read the book. All comments are welcome because I learn. The good people at the Royal British Legion were very interested and complimentary about the book. I hope to be asked to return later in the year. 10 February 2015
I'm now waiting for the first sales report from the publishers in London. We went to the AlteArte bar/cafe book club in Altea, last Sunday evening. I enjoyed speaking with the members and was happy to sell a few books. If you are in the area pay them a visit. The bar is a stones throw from the church. The area is beautiful and well worth investigation. 1 January 2015.
A big thanks to everyone who has played a part in the success of Lock-Down Blues. The results have been beyond my wildest dreams. 
3 December 2014
This is Tash of T.L.S Books at the Marriott Christmas Fair last weekend. I had three really successful book signings during the past month. Los Arcos, a large restaurant on the N332 at Pedreguer was host to a charity Christmas fair. I met some interesting people, one lady in particular, who's language made even me blush. A couple of days later I was at the Inn On The Green, Javea Bowls Club for another interesting day. Sales continue to be good. Last weekend was the big, annual fair at the Denia Marriott Hotel. I was a guest of T.L.S Books & Cards and, apart from the heavy rain, had a great time. Next Friday, 5 December, I'll be signing copies of the book at Quicksave supermarket, Pedreguer, 11 – 1. Saturday, 6 December, I'm, once again a guest of T.L.S Books and Cards at the Siesta Group Christmas Gift Fair which will be held on the old Iron Art site just past the railway bridge at Gata De Gorgos, 10 – 2.30. Friday 12 December I'm back at Quicksave supermarket signing copies of the book from 11 – 1. Saturday 20 December should see me as a guest of FM Radio, in Javea, on their afternoon chat show. More next time. 
2 November 2014
Sales continue to be good and steady. I'll be signing copies of the book on the following dates, 14 November - Gata Charity Shop. 15 November -Los Arcos Restaurant, Pedreguer. 19 November - Inn On The Green Xmas Fayre, Javea Bowls Club. 29 & 30 November - Marriott Hotel, Denia, Christmas Fair. At some of the events I will be a guest of T.L.S Books & Cards. Also, I have to confirm two more book signings with Andrew who runs Quicksave in Pedreguer. Come along, Andrew is providing free tea and coffee on the run up to Christmas. 4 October 2014
As you will have read on the Blog page, the book has kept me very busy. Lily, at the publishers, reports that sales are consistent and going well. I know that a number have been sold in America and I'm wondering how they are doing with interpreting the slang words. I've made a mental note to include a Glossary of Terms in the sequel. I've had some really interesting feedback on the book, particularly from people I hold in high regard. Some have offered the opinion that it could be turned into a good film if handled correctly. This is an avenue which I intend to pursue. I'm busy on the sequel at the moment. I'm up to 40,000 words and not close to being at the half way mark. A handful of you will be 'proof reading' in the coming months, so a big thanks in advance. .............................................................................. 2 September 2014 This has been a busy, exciting and enjoyable few days. With guidance from Lily at the publishers, I sent out a note to the media across this part of Spain. The results have been good. One of the big plus points for me is that I'm finally learning the wisdom of patience. Me being me, I send information out on the Net and expect immediate responses. To be fair, the responses had been pretty quick so I really have nothing to worry about. But, once again, this boy wants it all now. This has been a lesson learned and I've been in contact with some really nice, professional people. Jack Troughton is a good example. So, this is where we are up to. August 25 – Jack Troughton from The Round Town News came to see us. His interview, published on 29 August, was great. Thanks Jack. August 26 – I signed copies of the book at the Cornish Pride Takeaway on the Moraira Calpe Road. It was a successful morning despite the crushing heat. September 3 - I'm doing a recorded interview with Hannah Murray of Talk Radio Europe. Also, I will be a guest on the John Gaunt (Gaunty) current affairs programme on Fubar Radio (digital). Should be on air at 12.15 UK time. September 8 – I'm being interviewed by Nikki Luxford of the Costa Blanca News. September 11 – A second chance to sign copies of the book at the Cornish Pride on the Moraira Calpe Road. Come along, Denise will make you very welcome. September 23 – I'll be signing copies of the book at High Street Heaven, a fashion outlet in the grounds of Javea Bowls Club. October 12 – I'll be signing copies at the S.C.A.N annual BBQ, at the shelter near Vergel. October 19 – I'll be attending the second Books & Blues Festival at the Bar Maditerraneo in Teulada. I'll be signing books and, possibly, much more. That is where we are up to, so far. As I'm preparing this post I'm expecting an email detailing further book signings before Christmas. A big thanks to Michael, the owner of Humpty Dumpty's in Javea, for stocking copies of my book. More next time. .............................................................................. |
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10 August 2014
This has really been a busy few days. As I've said before, I have no illusions about being a first-time author. I know that I'm bloody lucky to have had Lock-Down Blues published. There has been quite a lot of local interest and I've been asked to sign the copies which we've sold. I've been advised that I should review the book and post it on Amazon. It will seem like marking my own exam paper. The publishers say that it's good form so I will.
Maureen, a dear friend, has posted a review for which I'm very grateful. I've had a book signing finalised for October. If I'm lucky, there should be more before then.
More news soon.
1 August 2104.
As you read on my Home Page, it all became a reality yesterday. When the courier arrived late on Wednesday evening I'd virtually given up hope of actually holding a copy of my book before publication day. But, as Margaret reminds me, patience is a virtue. Mmmmm.
Towards the end of last week I had an email from my friend John. Some of you will have met John and his wife Kate when they came to Spain, on holiday, a few years ago. You will see John and Kate mentioned in the book because, like me, he had a 30 year career in HM Prison Service. So, John emailed to thank me for a mention on the 'Acknowledgments' page in the book. John had ordered the book, in paperback, from Amazon and received it ten days before the publication date. How good was that!
Margaret's Mum wasn't quite so lucky when she tried to pre-order a copy from a well known high street booksellers. She was told that she would have to wait until publication day. This resulted in one very unhappy Mum. So, Margaret ordered her a copy from Amazon and, sure enough, it arrived four days before publication day.
I've had lots of congratulatory emails and I thank you all for taking the time to contact me. I'm also being asked for signed copies of the book and I'm using a beautiful pen which was a birthday present from Wilf and Sheila.
This is completely new territory for yours truly so please bear with me if I stumble over the answer to the question 'How do you feel?'
The book has been by my side for a long time. The initial idea came to me when I was laying in bed early one October morning listening to the rain coming down in stair rods. That was four years ago. When I had the first rough draft I sent it off to lots of publishers and got a one hundred percent knock back. I started to see the light when I attended a creative writing course. I soon realised that I had made many mistakes when drafting the first manuscript, so I listened and learned.
Early last year I told Margaret that I had done as much as I could with the manuscript and it was ready for a second go at getting it published.
Once again, the knock backs came thick and fast. Some were helpful but many were not. A number commented that it would be difficult to place because most books about prison life had been written by ex-prisoners, whereas mine was a work of fiction using my 30 years of experience in HM Prison Service to inform the story line.
Eventually, I received a letter offering me a publishing deal. I was impressed because it was actually a letter and not in email form. My publishers have been incredibly helpful and I've learned so much during the process. I know that their Marketing department have been busy on my behalf so now I have to be patient. Mmmmm.
Seriously, I'm under no illusions as to what the future may hold for me as a first-time author. I do know that I'm busy working on the sequel and trying not to make the same mistakes as before.
Thanks, your interest and comments really do mean a lot.
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
This has really been a busy few days. As I've said before, I have no illusions about being a first-time author. I know that I'm bloody lucky to have had Lock-Down Blues published. There has been quite a lot of local interest and I've been asked to sign the copies which we've sold. I've been advised that I should review the book and post it on Amazon. It will seem like marking my own exam paper. The publishers say that it's good form so I will.
Maureen, a dear friend, has posted a review for which I'm very grateful. I've had a book signing finalised for October. If I'm lucky, there should be more before then.
More news soon.
1 August 2104.
As you read on my Home Page, it all became a reality yesterday. When the courier arrived late on Wednesday evening I'd virtually given up hope of actually holding a copy of my book before publication day. But, as Margaret reminds me, patience is a virtue. Mmmmm.
Towards the end of last week I had an email from my friend John. Some of you will have met John and his wife Kate when they came to Spain, on holiday, a few years ago. You will see John and Kate mentioned in the book because, like me, he had a 30 year career in HM Prison Service. So, John emailed to thank me for a mention on the 'Acknowledgments' page in the book. John had ordered the book, in paperback, from Amazon and received it ten days before the publication date. How good was that!
Margaret's Mum wasn't quite so lucky when she tried to pre-order a copy from a well known high street booksellers. She was told that she would have to wait until publication day. This resulted in one very unhappy Mum. So, Margaret ordered her a copy from Amazon and, sure enough, it arrived four days before publication day.
I've had lots of congratulatory emails and I thank you all for taking the time to contact me. I'm also being asked for signed copies of the book and I'm using a beautiful pen which was a birthday present from Wilf and Sheila.
This is completely new territory for yours truly so please bear with me if I stumble over the answer to the question 'How do you feel?'
The book has been by my side for a long time. The initial idea came to me when I was laying in bed early one October morning listening to the rain coming down in stair rods. That was four years ago. When I had the first rough draft I sent it off to lots of publishers and got a one hundred percent knock back. I started to see the light when I attended a creative writing course. I soon realised that I had made many mistakes when drafting the first manuscript, so I listened and learned.
Early last year I told Margaret that I had done as much as I could with the manuscript and it was ready for a second go at getting it published.
Once again, the knock backs came thick and fast. Some were helpful but many were not. A number commented that it would be difficult to place because most books about prison life had been written by ex-prisoners, whereas mine was a work of fiction using my 30 years of experience in HM Prison Service to inform the story line.
Eventually, I received a letter offering me a publishing deal. I was impressed because it was actually a letter and not in email form. My publishers have been incredibly helpful and I've learned so much during the process. I know that their Marketing department have been busy on my behalf so now I have to be patient. Mmmmm.
Seriously, I'm under no illusions as to what the future may hold for me as a first-time author. I do know that I'm busy working on the sequel and trying not to make the same mistakes as before.
Thanks, your interest and comments really do mean a lot.
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
21 July 2014
Since my last post Margaret and I have been learning about what happens when a book is about to be published. Our contact in the publishers marketing department, Lily, is being fantastically helpul particulaly when answering my never-ending questions. We now have bookmarks and new business cards which will soon be circulated. As I mentioned on the Home Page, the book will be available in ebook/Kindle format on publication day, 31 July. Thanks for your continuing support.
Since my last post Margaret and I have been learning about what happens when a book is about to be published. Our contact in the publishers marketing department, Lily, is being fantastically helpul particulaly when answering my never-ending questions. We now have bookmarks and new business cards which will soon be circulated. As I mentioned on the Home Page, the book will be available in ebook/Kindle format on publication day, 31 July. Thanks for your continuing support.
13 July 2014
Here, at last, we are able to show you the cover. We have tried to capture the frustration of being banged up, surrounded by a guitar and prison-issue denim. The handwritten name and title shows that nothing is ever perfect in prison.
The email which we sent out earlier this afternoon wrongly identified the ISBN number as the IBAN number. Despite realising the mistake and starting to send out a corrected email, David and Sarah beat us to the punch. Thanks, and really good to hear from you.
We are in almost daily contact with the publishers so there is plenty to do and think about.
You can pre-order 'Lock-Down Blues', in paperback/ebook. It is available on Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.es
Also at booksellers W.H. Smith, Waterstones and Play.com
The reference number you will need is ISBN 9781849635820. Copies of the book will be available to buy in Spain very soon.
Here, at last, we are able to show you the cover. We have tried to capture the frustration of being banged up, surrounded by a guitar and prison-issue denim. The handwritten name and title shows that nothing is ever perfect in prison.
The email which we sent out earlier this afternoon wrongly identified the ISBN number as the IBAN number. Despite realising the mistake and starting to send out a corrected email, David and Sarah beat us to the punch. Thanks, and really good to hear from you.
We are in almost daily contact with the publishers so there is plenty to do and think about.
You can pre-order 'Lock-Down Blues', in paperback/ebook. It is available on Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.es
Also at booksellers W.H. Smith, Waterstones and Play.com
The reference number you will need is ISBN 9781849635820. Copies of the book will be available to buy in Spain very soon.
Yes, finally, we have a publication date for 'Lock-Down Blues'. Thanks for your patience, abuse and advice during the waiting time!
The next step will be when the publisher's marketing department contacts me. I've already had a document which outlines how the book will be promoted in the UK and beyond. Obviously, I will be wanting to make some special efforts in Spain so continue to watch this space.
Thanks.
The next step will be when the publisher's marketing department contacts me. I've already had a document which outlines how the book will be promoted in the UK and beyond. Obviously, I will be wanting to make some special efforts in Spain so continue to watch this space.
Thanks.
22 May 2014
We are still waiting for that email which will give us a publication date. The publishers assure me that everything is moving along nicely so 'patience' is the watch word. Mmmmmmm...
We are still waiting for that email which will give us a publication date. The publishers assure me that everything is moving along nicely so 'patience' is the watch word. Mmmmmmm...
7 April 2014
Hi,
The most recent email from the publishers informed me that a final copy of the 'work' will be emailed to me before it goes to press. Alas, no more opportunity to make amendments. Margaret says that it's a good thing because I never know when to stop. True.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank so many of you for your support and good wishes for Lock-Down Blues. When we have a publication date you will be the first to know.
2 March 2014
Hi,
This is a pic of one of those beautiful sunsets which we have to endure in this part of the world. A great stimulus to write.
I'm happy to report that I finished checking the final page proofs a few days ago. I emailed my final set of amendments to the publishers and they responded, immediately, in the affirmative. They also provided me with a document outlining what the next stages will be, both pre and post publication date. Exciting stuff. I'm so looking forward to be able to share more, here, but for the moment my hands are tied. Shouldn't be long.
Hi,
This is a pic of one of those beautiful sunsets which we have to endure in this part of the world. A great stimulus to write.
I'm happy to report that I finished checking the final page proofs a few days ago. I emailed my final set of amendments to the publishers and they responded, immediately, in the affirmative. They also provided me with a document outlining what the next stages will be, both pre and post publication date. Exciting stuff. I'm so looking forward to be able to share more, here, but for the moment my hands are tied. Shouldn't be long.
'Lock-Down Blues'.....coming soon!
I started to write my first novel, 'Lock-Down Blues' in 2009 on a rainy October morning when I was feeling at a loose end.
A week ago I received the first set of proofs which I have carefully checked and returned to the publishers. It's getting quite exciting. We spent weeks looking at designs for the cover and the publishers let us have a go at designing one. Avoiding copyright issues was difficult so we totally designed our own. With Margaret's help, Wilf's camera skills, Sheila's advice and Billy's fists, we came up with a design that, after they tidy it up, will be the one.Some of you will know the story line because I posted snippets, over the past couple of years, on my blog site www.getjealous.com/apeckhamboy
This website now takes over from that one and it wouldn't be right for me to divulge any more about the plots and characters, as we are moving ever closer to publication day.
After publication day I thought that it might be fun for you to be able to ask some of the central characters questions about their time in prison, crimes etc. I'll explain more in a few days.
9 January 2014.
I'm expecting more news in the next few days so I'll post updates then.
I started to write my first novel, 'Lock-Down Blues' in 2009 on a rainy October morning when I was feeling at a loose end.
A week ago I received the first set of proofs which I have carefully checked and returned to the publishers. It's getting quite exciting. We spent weeks looking at designs for the cover and the publishers let us have a go at designing one. Avoiding copyright issues was difficult so we totally designed our own. With Margaret's help, Wilf's camera skills, Sheila's advice and Billy's fists, we came up with a design that, after they tidy it up, will be the one.Some of you will know the story line because I posted snippets, over the past couple of years, on my blog site www.getjealous.com/apeckhamboy
This website now takes over from that one and it wouldn't be right for me to divulge any more about the plots and characters, as we are moving ever closer to publication day.
After publication day I thought that it might be fun for you to be able to ask some of the central characters questions about their time in prison, crimes etc. I'll explain more in a few days.
9 January 2014.
I'm expecting more news in the next few days so I'll post updates then.