Backed and Blocked Up Does Not Mean I’m Dead.

onceIt’s been far too long since I updated my blog with news and alerts of progress on the forthcoming tomes. There is a reason for this. I have been terribly busy with freelance work and other demanding works, befitting a more seasoned scribbler than myself. But it has meant I could put a bit of money aside to download the latest Angry Birds App; sixty-nine pence well spent, if I do say so myself, even if all it did was to fill in those excavated pits in my head so often referred to as writers block. So in short, progress has been as elusive as Nessies car keys (he should have got one of those gizmo’s that bleep when you clap your hands).

But that was then and this is now.

ocucover

A First Look at The Cover of New Ghost Story ‘The Occupier’

Unfortunately this has put my deadlines teetering precariously on a ledge. So with appropriate revisions in place I have managed to talk them back from the precipice, smothered them with blankets and reassurances of days in the sun and, consequently put the release of my new book, ‘The Occupier’ back to the middle of June next year. This in itself has been a cathartic exercise, relieving me of the pressure of performing messianic sleight of pen in front of an increasingly dwindling and indifferent audience.

It has also allowed me to organise my projects in order to deliver them in a timely fashion.

More and more I’m reminded of the virtues of a well organised and stocked filing cabinet of ideas, ideas that seem to take on a life of their own, like little children fighting their way to the front, baying for attention until your knees buckle and you find yourself face to face with one more thing that will stopper the free-flow of what you sometimes jokingly refer to as creativity (anyway that’s enough self deprecation for this post). Caging these loveable little monsters in my labyrinth-like filing system has become quite a skill and that in itself may find its way into one of my stories.

So it’s here at the blog, the sharpening stone for the craft, where I’ll attempt to do my stretching exercises before donning my pit boots and start picking at the coal face in an attempt to unearth the occasional gem, as yet only imagined by myself.  Plus isn’t it good occasionally to get away from the restraints of the 140 character tweets or the very demanding attention span of the average Facebooker. Don’t get me wrong but when I’m on Facebook I’m not braced to read about the latest theory of why holding a cigarette in one hand while managing a lawnmower with the other can extend your life by an extra couple of years…PEOPLE! Don’t throw it in my face, send me a link so I can ridicule and scorn in my own time. Make me laugh/Cry/Angry for goodness sake. Give me something I can write a blog post about.

As always, Love and Wet Fishes.

Paul.

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