Parental Guidance





A great local Indy bookshop - Webberleys in Hanley

I never thought I could do it, but I have managed to write a short story for the 'Hot Air' competition, and wrapped it up almost 300 words short of the limit.  I'm not sure the title is right (in fact I know it's not) and I could do with a second opinion from someone unfamiliar with my previous stories to be sure it 'works', even if you haven't met the central character before, but I'm genuinely pleased with it. 
Since my last blog, I've had a couple more good reviews of my books and some very supportive and encouraging words from some new readers, having managed to encourage a flurry of free downloads last time Severe Discomfort was a freebie.  We still don't exactly have J K Rowling looking anxiously over her shoulder at the competition, but SD did briefly make the dizzy heights of no. 531 on the Amazon charts.  Sales look quite promising for this month - the biscuit fund might even manage chocolate ones when the next royalties come in!  I was tempted to set it as 'free' for tomorrow to mark Iain Duncan Smith's 60th birthday, but I have limited freebie slots and can't use them up too lightly with a new offensive on 'benefit fraud' apparently due soon, especially as it seems to be possible to post links on the DWP's Facebook page...

I got another compliment from an unexpected source at the weekend, when I was chatting to my Dad.  Despite leaning gently to the Left, The Da doesn't always seem to understand that benefit claimants are people just like him but with slightly less luck, and after an awkward exchange on the subject a couple of weeks ago, I'd decided to send him a copy of Severe Discomfort.  Surprisingly, as he's not a great one for reading, apparently he's started it; he went on to say it was well-written (without being prompted) and that, 'as there's such a load of old rubbish on the telly these days' he might well stick with it.

But there are some aspects of the story I can't see the old chap approving of at all.  For a start, he doesn't appreciate bad language.  While he may well have turned the air blue at work with his railway colleagues, he never used strong swear-words at home (unlike my late mum who, despite presenting a mild and respectable face to the world, could often be heard cursing some hapless kitchen appliance with the immortal words 'Damn and blast the stupid, sodding, buggering thing!'), so he'll doubtless be disappointed that they don't get asterixed out in the book. 

The last chapter is going to be trouble too, because if there's one thing guaranteed to get the remote control wielded at the TV, it's 'that sort of thing' in a film or drama.  I've even known disapproving tutting to go on during wildlife documentaries.  So if he gets caught up in the story and decides he'd like to find out what happens in the second part, I hope he isn't too offended by the 'naughty bits'!