Nothing to do with my writing at all, this is more to do with me vocalizing my thoughts:

Today is my birthday - I am 52, yay. 

Over those years the world has changed considerably; there have been some great inventions and some really crap ones. I'm lucky enough to have witnessed some huge advances in medicine, science, technology and all sorts of other areas far too numerous to mention.

During those years I have endured some dark times as most people do in their lives, I've seen things I wish I hadn't and met people that I really don't like.

'Ya have to take the rough with the smooth...' was a saying often repeated to me by my parents, siblings and friends, and I completely understand.

During my 52 years on this planet I donated 15 of them to serving in the British Army, as have numerous other people before me, and since - nothing special there. I understand the rules of engagement, but I also have first hand experience of 'politics', (and politicians) throwing good men under the proverbial bus to further individual careers or suit the political climate at a given time. I consider myself a well rounded person (not just physically!), in so much as I try hard to see someone else's point of view, I consider their circumstances, I look for the logic behind a suggestion or an initiative, not just disregard it as foolish, I truly want to understand 'why', 

Two nights ago I was at my eleven year old daughters end-of-term school presentation night, again as many others have done before me; she was fortunate enough to receive an award to finish off her time at that school, and very proud we are too. 

So, I hear you asking, where is this whole waffle going? Well the truth be known, after all of my years on this earth, when I sat down and watched the breaking news of the massacre at the school in Pakistan I was... well I'm not sure what I was, even as a writer I don't have the words that can accurately describe the sickness, the anger, the over whelming sense of tragedy and loss, the inability to comprehend, not 'why', but how?

Whilst it may upset a few people, a fourteen year old with an AK47 is still a very real threat, and as unpleasant as it may be, I can completely understand how that fourteen year old, fighting as a soldier, trying to kill someone else, ends up dead - it is a sad indictment of the depth of tragedy in many parts of the world. BUT these were kids, in school uniform, in class! Unarmed, unprepared, precious children. 

Referring back to the early part of this waffle, I have mentioned that I do analyse things, look for an understanding but this is one that is impossible to comprehend: How can a human being look along the barrel of a rifle, through the iron sights, and shoot an unarmed child - how??! How can anyone professing to be human a) be able to do that and b) live with themselves afterwards?

My emotional thinking takes this a stage further; Is there a place in the gene pool for anyone, and I mean anyone, that can take the life of a child in such a cowardly and despicable manner? Is there a God, or more relevantly would any 'higher being' of whichever holy religion condone such an unspeakable inhumanity? I don't think so. 

What possible justification can there be to murdering a child, how do these people sleep at night, how can they call themselves 'human'? The most precious thing has to be life - I understand that there are times when life must be taken, or even 'should' be taken - but not unarmed children. These people have no right to walk among us.

Sorry for the unsavory rant, the intention is not to offend. 

Writing is something I do between books.

Never a truer statement! 

The good news is that I am ahead of schedule for 'Elementals'. I spent most of last weekend working through it, doing the tedious spell check and stuff, and finally managed to print off a few copies to go out to the 'Lab Rats' - the test base - Beta Readers. I hadn't planned to be at this stage until Christmas so now I have time on my hands, and that's always dangerous.



An update from Judi yesterday tells me that INVICTUS Pt 1 is almost ready to launch, and last heard she was 'percolating' the changes to Fated Encounters before coming back to me. We are ahead of schedule, all box's are ticked!

I suppose that there is always something to do, always a little job here or there that could be done - the trouble is that none of it is as much fun as the actual writing! Creating a story from nothing and living it as the story unfolds into a book is the best experience possible; even if some of those stories will never see the Amazon site, it's great exercise for the mind. So, with ambitious plans to roll out Russian Redemption II, the second of the INVICTUS stories and possibly another 'Elementals' in 2015, the future is looking busy, but it's these lull's between books that the short stories emerge, just for the fun of writing.

I've invested in a shredder! A little cross-cut machine, it converts the reams and reams of previously printed manuscripts to rabbit bedding, much to my youngest daughters delight! For posterity reasons I've kept the original final manuscript for all of the books, and sent them to family or friends. But the mounds of folders I was hoarding just had to go.

I don't know if this is a warning to other Authors or just a usual part of the development process but I have noticed some changes in my perceptions of my environment - everything becomes a potential story plot, everyone becomes a basic character with the potential to grow into the next hero, protagonist, villain or support person. Seriously, I'm getting a bollocking from my boss for something, and as I'm watching his face go red, or swell up, in my mind all I'm thinking about is finding the words to describe the event so I can recount it accurately in a future story line! I wonder how many of my work colleagues could recognize themselves in a story?! I'm even listening hard for quirky phrases that may fit a story; EVERYTHING seems to be a story in the making, how much fun is that!


I write because I love seeing the surprise on the faces of those that know me, and have read one of my books:- 



"YOU wrote this?!"