Pandemic Padding…

Ever watched Apocalypse Now? 

Which version I hear you say…  and that is a fair point.

Which version indeed.

It may be annoying when they add those extra five minutes of footage, when that extra monologue is included, but if it brings you closer to the imagination of the artist, I’m kinda all for it. 

Edge of Darkness isn’t a great book, its not, well not in my opinion.

The loosely adapted film, whichever version you see, is indeed great art. 

And therein, by a round about route is my current undertaking.

I am again offering my wares to the world, and I am accordingly reviewing and adjusting my masterpiece. 

I’ve been adding words, removing words, adding commas, removing commas.

Passages have been left as is, passages have been ever so slightly ‘adjusted’.

The story it remains the same.

The story I am absolutely convinced is a good one, a page turner in the truest sense. 

Amy is different, she is a referenced blend of so many things, and she is her own indisputable character.

When she hits popular print, she will be enjoyed.

When she is enjoyed, she will be a subject worthy of discussion.

People will see things that others miss; nuances will be discussed.

And for those counters of beans, money will be made.

So, working from home I am working on my ‘Redux Version’ of Thomas Payne.

You will enjoy it.


It will be printed.

You will be able to buy it.

Stay safe!

Stay sane! 


It’s the stuff of life, or so a very wise Benjamin Franklin would have us believe – and I think he indeed had a point, we should spend it wisely!

Anyway, time is my current focus.

Prison is the first book that has a forced timeline – events MUST happen against a dictated and unmoveable rhythm.

Thomas Payne was easy; the siege of Khartoum lent a good series of dates to dance around.

Magic and Gotham played the easy flow of a storyline, with only one glorious summer needing structure.

Now, now that I’ve created a storyline (you’ll like it) and it has an implacable timeline.

I’ve looked back over the whole narrative (from birth) and tried to tie it all down to months, weeks and years.

There is a distinct possibility that I’m being far too forensic – maybe nobody has noticed, perchance if they have, they don’t really care…?

So, I am mapping Amy’s life from 1864 – 1890.

She is no longer the 21-year old debutant, she is a woman of substance, maturity and wealth, she is an independent woman who is galloping towards the end of her twenties

So that’s me typing away at my keyboard, I am mapping the life of a fictional character – oh the joys of writing!  

A Teardrop Explodes!

It’s a beautiful image, something that you can play with, I just need the opportunity to plagiarise it.   

I find it beautifully visual and wonderfully emotive all at the same time. 

And as it’s a reference to an artist of some renown, Julian Cope, who will appear as a character somewhere in ‘Prison’. 

This little missive was provisionally titled with reference to Mister Edgar A Poe and his dream within a dream poem, especially the grains of golden sand line, but indie guitar pop won out in the end – take a bow Julian Cope!

Time has inexorably plodded onwards, and the waves still crash on my shore, and the sand still falls between my fingers, and we’ve now had another silent refusal, another aspiration nullified… 

I know in sending my script that I agreed to the ‘if you don’t hear from us, consider it a no…’, I did, and I do. 

However, rejection is bad enough, but the silent rejection is harsh – it really is!

It is constant amongst my musings, a theme that will probably remain up and until I strike it lucky…

We have the next application in draft, we continue unabashed. 

I’ve been writing, moving stories along, reacting to reviews, and where possible making the necessary amendments. 

I was trying to move The Big House along, research was flowing, but no typed words were produced.

Whenever I warmed up the keyboard, it was a little fiery woman who near exclusively dominated.

We are four complete books to the good, scribbling with a purpose number five, and titivating six, seven and eight. 

My passion to tell tall tales continues, I am still enjoying the whole putting my imagination into structured form, and despite the rejection(s) I still take succour from the support of those who’ve read and enjoyed my stories.

The next step is a big one, but a small one too.

My hands are on the ladder…