Review: 'Invisible Fractures' by Catherine Helier

The majority of the poems in this collection deal with the emotional inner-scape of the poet; her doubts, fears and frustrations, her tense and often pain-filled relationships with the poems' unnamed others. Not that it's all doom and gloom - poems such as 'Patience' and 'My Puzzle Piece' offer snatches of optimism, even if this is largely bittersweet ('feeling pain makes me realise its real').

The poet here eschews obliqueness or over-elaborate metaphor in favour of a simplistic style suggestive of everyday thought patterns, of an individual's musings clipped clean into direct utterance. Symbols, when used, are simple, their meaning openly proffered - the sand in 'Fading Away,' the anaesthetising water in 'Comfortably Numb' - the poet intentionally shunning complexity in favour of the power of simple statement.

Despite the linguistic calm 'Invisible Fractures' crackles with a dark, glowering energy. Sensibly priced and well formatted, this is definitely worth a look.

Review: 'Vagabond' by A.P.Wolf

If there’s ever a time or place to be reading novels set in the muggy heat of the Malay archipelago then I’m guessing a drab and wet November in Jersey is probably it. I’d been effusively recommended this novel by a friend, and after only a couple of paragraphs it wasn’t hard to see why.

We join our narrator enjoying a solitary Naked Lunch style breakdown in a Singapore hotel room. The prose is florid, fast and funny, and packed with some wonderful turns of phrase. It's hard not to be instantly gripped by the sleazy heat of his surroundings, the prostitutes, gangsters and assorted wack-jobs in whose company we find ourselves. An elusive Boss is referred to - as is the sense that our narrator is in the middle of some serious strife - before we are transported back to the days of his equally wild, priapic and Tiger beer-drenched adolescence. It’s here that we stay (with occasional returns to his barracked future self), joining our teenage host for epic house-trashing parties, violent run-ins with the local Malays, cock-fights, riots, surrendered virginities, pubic crabs, shit, whiskey and death. In no particular order.

At times the descriptions borders on the incredible, but that’s just fine; the whole book is so entertaining and the narrative voice so engaging that I found myself simply handing myself over and enjoying the ride. There’s a narrative arc of sorts, with the novel culminating in a showdown with a cobra and the symbolic Samson-style shearing of our young vagabond’s locks (ironically at the same time as he becomes able to ejaculate), though the main impression I left the novel with was that of wanting more. 

At only one hundred and fifty pages Vagabond is a short read, yet its pages pulse with the filthy, beautiful vibrancy of life in the raw, featuring descriptions and dialogue that provide some genuine laugh out loud moments. This is top quality writing from a lively and unique voice; I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Review: 'Rachel's Shoe' by Peter Lihou

The German Occupation of the Channel Islands continues to provide rich narrative pickings for local authors, and in this novel by Guernseyman Peter Lihou we are once more transported back to occupied nineteen-forties waters. Our hero is young fisherman Tom le Breton, whom we first encounter deftly evading German patrols in his boat The Flying Fish. Within pages he takes shelter on nearby island Alderney, where he sets about helping a young Jewish girl - the

eponymous Rachel - escape from the labour camp in which she has been living,

Rachel's Shoe divides roughly into two sections, with the first half presenting a nautical adventure tale following Tom and his family as they attempt to conceal Rachel from the German occupying forces. Rachel's initial rescue from the camp - exploding mines and all - forms a suitably exciting introduction to the novel, and the subsequent development of her relationship with Tom forms a strong emotional thread leading us up to her eventual escape and the novel's first denouement.

Fast forward to the start of the seventies (via Rachel's Hollywoodesque return), where the now Mr and Mrs le Breton are attracting some unwelcome attention from a nefarious clique of Germans intent on securing shareholding rights to Rachel's parents' business, the existence of which Rachel has remained wholly unaware. It appears that the account details were hidden somewhere by Rachel's mother before her daughter was taken from her - but where?

Cue the shoe. It's a neat structural device, and one that binds the two parts of the novel tidily together. The shift from wartime adventure to a more modern thriller approach is a welcome one, and the concluding chapters succeed in energising the novel anew. The climax is suitably cathartic, with some well-handled character rounding of the villainous Freddy and his lackeys.

Lihou's style is solid and succinct; he writes with an admirable clarity of expression, and the roving narrative eye provides generous access to the thoughts and motivations of several of the novel's key players. Historical detail is accurate though light enough to avoid detracting from the interplay of characters and the pace of the plot as a whole.

Rachel's Shoe is in turn charming, touching and possessing a definite edge. I look forward to reading more from Lihou and would recommend the Guernseyman's work to anyone. (And that's coming from a Bean.)

Give It Away Now

Well, there goes the second KDP free giveaway promotion for Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds. The first one, run a month or so after initial publication earlier this year, generated close to 300 downloads, the majority of those (I suspect) being friends, family and other sympathetic parties.

Since then I've implemented a new, more impactful cover and accrued double digit reviews on both .com and .co.uk Amazon sites. I've also made sure that my sample pages are as good as I can possibly make them (as well as being justified) and improved my Product Description.

The shop window's been done out well, in other words.

This time round I ran my free promotion over five consecutive days, and made sure to advertise it on a raft of websites advertising free Kindle giveaways. I also signed up to a few Facebook groups (blues enthusiasts and Kindle peeps) and splashed the promotion round on there as well.

Results?

Close to 5,000 downloads on Amazon.com, with 80-odd on .co.uk and .de. A much higher take-up, in other words. For several days the novel was the 3rd most popular free download on Amazon.com's General Fiction: Humour page, as well as shooting straight to the top of the free download Music section.

As I type it is currently the second most popular PAID purchase in the .com Music: Blues section, right up there with Buddy Guy's autobiography. Which is kind of cool.

There have been several paid purchases of the book (now reset to .99p/$) since the promotion ended on Friday, and already I've had two great reviews comes in.

So all in all, a fairly pleasing result. It will be interesting to see whether this leads on to more consistent sales. For now it's just nice to se some of the modifications, editing and endless screen time paying off.

I'm happy to leave Coyote be for a while now, and sense that it has at least gained a little traction in the market. In that respect the KDP giveaway has most certainly been of use.

Review: 'Aurora' by Glover Wright

Having read and enjoyed Glover Wright's Hound of Heaven in paperback version I was pleased to spot some of his thrillers have recently been made available as e-books. Described by Jack Higgins as a 'remarkable and also quite terrifying thriller writer' Geoffrey Glover Wright has seven published novels to his name, with - I am told - more on the horizon.

I'm no expert on thrillers, and generally steer clear of the genre, having been moved to near-nausea by the nursery school prose of James Patterson, bored and bewildered by James Baldacci and only marginally more impressed with Lee Child (all international bestsellers, all extremely wealthy, more fool me). That said, I had no hesitation in downloading Glover-Wright's Aurora, guessing from previous experience of his work that I could expect something more intelligently textured - a 'literary thriller,' even.

And if I was wrong? Well, feel free to smash my jet into a swamp and feed me to the crocodiles - which is pretty much what Glover Wright does regardless some third of the way through the book. Before then we've had oil tanker explosions, desert shoot-outs and desperate scrambles from shallow graves, the very stuff that defines this genre, yet all delivered with such assuredly flourished prose that I found myself pausing to savour the ride rather than simply flying headlong through the pages.

At heart Aurora is about journalist Corrina Vincetti's quest to unravel a mystery that has seemingly brought her grandfather - and his secret - back from the grave. What is the Aurora Project? Who are the Keepers? Who was the flaming being that fell to the Nevada desert back in 1945? Allied with ex-military doctor Tom Mathison our heroine finds herself unravelling the mystery of her family's past whilst attempting to flee the clutches of murderous government officials.

The closing acts of the novel satisfy, and the expository pay-off - when it comes - is a chiller. As with Hound of Heaven I admire the delicate balancing of science and the paranormal; there's enough here to raise the hairs yet at no point does Glover Wright strain the bounds of plausibility.

All in all a highly entertaining work by a great author. Check him out if you haven't already.

Muddy Waters Ate My Wife

Having gazed a few times at my author page on Kindle and feeling a little sorry for a lonely looking Coyote Jack I decided to pen a novelette to keep it company. Okay so part of my nefarious plan may have been to create a short, catchy little number to snag potential readers' eyes and draw them in (cue reverb-laden villainous laughter) to the novel via a link at the back...but if it was I'll never tell.

As it was I ended getting up quite engrossed in this little tale, a diabolical tale of voodoo witchcraft as woven by one of Coyote Jack's minor characters a good few years before the events of that novel. I've always found it a thing of wonder that Muddy Waters actually did play on Jersey in 1980, and this novelette was a perfect way of highlighting his visit to the Channel Islands whilst paying homage to the man himself.

And come on...that title's a doozy. Great artwork as well, courtesy of Jersey's very own Kartoon Faktory. Gets my mojo workin' sho 'nuff.


DOWNLOAD HERE

Review of 'Against the Tide' by John F.Hanley

An excellent novel from Jersey-born John F.Hanley. The prose is crisp, the characters well-defined and the historical setting of pre-Occupation Jersey sketched with remarkable attention to detail. As a protagonist Jack Renouf is both believable and likeable, and I found myself genuinely gripped by his dealings with the novels' central characters - flighty siren Caroline, rival love interest Rachel and red Uncle Fred, whose horrific experience at the hands of fascists leads the novel into darker waters. The main thrust of the plot - smuggled Nazi diamonds - is well worked out, even if its introduction is left a little late in proceedings, though I did find myself struggling a little towards the end with the multitude of characters involved in the resolving melee. The action is welcome, however, as are the surprises awaiting, and it is to Hanley's credit that the main twist, when it comes, was both unexpected yet credible.

The book's title is a clever metaphor for the rebellious movements of its heroes as they set their shoulders against the inevitable surge of Hitler's war machine. It is also a nod to the sea, which - as any islander can attest - is everywhere. Renouf is a swimming champion, Rachel and Caroline competitive divers, and much of the novel is set in the cold and choppy waters of the Channel. Love is made, shots are fired and minds made up within the brine, and the immersion is a welcome one - I can't think of a novel that I've read in recent times that so completely captures the essence and influence of the sea on a fictional psyche. Dive in.

Review: 'Tess of Portelet Manor' by Roy McCarthy

A confession. As a Jersey-born writer I feel it my duty to pay attention to my fellow landlocked fiction-smiths, and it was out of this notion of camaraderie that I downloaded Tess of Portelet Manor. Ever since Hardy and Bronte at university I've given a fair birth to novels about headstrong female hut-dwellers (a hangover from my time in the SAS bare-knuckle boxing Corp) so I started Tess with a deep breath and in the hope that at the very least the author would do me the favour of making a half decent job of plot, prose and character.

Bingo. I had nothing to worry about. Roy McCarthy is a fine writer, and within several pages I found myself settling down into what proved to be a gripping and ultimately rewarding read.

We join Tess in the mid nineteen-thirties at the age of sixteen, living with her mother in a ramshackle property on Portelet common, full of grade issue teenage angst and painfully aware of her lower social standing. A likeable and (impressively) well rounded character, we are privy to her hopes, fears, failures and triumphs for the following decade as Tess finds her way in the world. It would be impossible not to ponder McCarthy's Tess without hearing an echo of her famous literary cousin, and the author's simple, elegant prose and frequent depictions of Tess's relationship with her natural world are similarly reminiscent of Hardy's approach to storytelling. I'm guessing McCarthy's a fan. I'm also guessing that the elder writer would have approved of McCarthy's portrayal of Tess' sexual appetites; this is a courageous, red-blooded heroine, not afraid to dish two fingers and a 'yer Mum' to a pack of ill-mannered Nazis or rip some lucky fellow's trousers off as the mood takes her.

As a historical novel Tess of Portelet Manor is a solid outing. McCarthy has obviously done his homework, with Pre, Mid and Post Occupation Jersey skilfully rendered through his descriptions of the island and the characters with whom Tess shares the novel. Islanders like myself will learn new things about familiar places, though the novel's pace and vibrant characterisation ensure that this isn't specifically a 'Jersey' novel (I couldn't resist a smile at Tess' career arc; from goods production and farming into property development and financial services - allegory intended?)

A final, though important note that speaks volumes about the author's approach to his craft; the e-book was beautifully formatted, and lacking any of the grammatical or presentational flaws that mar many of the self (and, unbelievably, professionally) published efforts I have encountered of late. A small point, but for me an important one. Roy McCarthy has worked hard to write a novel that both entertains, educates and engages, and in this he has most definitely succeeded. Give it a go.

AMAZON LINK TO PAGE:

http://tinyurl.com/p2gcq3s

Review: 'Bluesman' by Annie Reed

Thought I'd check out this short story. Twenty-seven year old Johnny is an aspiring musician, who is slightly unnerved by a poster bought for him by his mother featuring a group of musicians and an eerie demonic crowd that appear to meld and move with each repeat viewing. At first I was reminded of an old Stephen King story about a demonic dog attempting to leap free from the photograph that binds it (similar to Lovecraft's Hounds of Tindalos), and began to anticipate some serious nastiness ahead. As it transpires this story is fairly mild, revolving around the spirits of musicians who never made it seeking some kind of representation in this world.

The story is nicely written, and Reed clearly has considerable skill as a narrator. It's a nice conceit as well; adding a supernatural twist to that notion of rock and roll's 'twenty-seven club.' My only gripe was that it was a little bit tame - having set the tone for a nice dose of horror I felt the ending lacked a little punch. Oh yeah, and the 52 pages listed on the description...god knows what sized font the original used as I raced through this in under ten minutes.

As such I'm not sure if I'd recommend paying over 0.99 for this, though wouldn't hesitate to recommend the writer if her longer works are written to the same standard of prose.

Link to Amazon page here: http://tinyurl.com/og9jkxo

Clout Wanted

I’ve been battling the vague uneasiness that the original front cover of Coyote Jack – however much I like it – lacks sufficient oomph to punch through the pack when reduced to thumbnail size and listed with a bunch of other books. There’s too much detail, not enough conceptual clarity, a general softness of tone that I’m not sure does it any favours. Up close it’s lovely, and really captures the essence and theme of the novel, but does it hook the eye in that nano-second of attention given it by a passing browser? Not sure.

As such I’ve opted for a complete change, designing a cover instead that features one central and instantly comprehensible image, the broken guitar (connotations: music, conflict, violence) coupled with a sparse colour scheme and the highlighting of the word blue/s (connotations: blues music). I’ve kept the ‘wild west’ font for Coyote Jack as I think it hints at Texas and his origin story, and found a nice blob-funky font for the Bluebirds.

All of these overlaid on black presents a starker, more simplistic cover, though one which I am hoping will have a bit more screen-clout.

Damn Right I Got the Blues

I remember going to watch Buddy Guy live at the Manchester Nynex back in the nineties. Guy had always been one of my favourite blues musicians - so raw, so musically unpredictable, such a charismatic performer - and on that night my friend and I left sparkly-eyed and babbling. It was an amazing gig, and one that even BB King and band (incredible as they were at the same venue some years later) failed to knock from the top spot of my favourite blues concerts attended.

Buddy Guy's Chicago club Legends has been going for years now, and is pretty much regarded as one of the premier blues venues in America, if not the world. They've got a great affiliated website as well, and one on which I happened to spot some extracts of blues-based fiction. One email later and I got a warm response from the site's admin; yes they'd be keen to publish an extract from Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds if I could send one along.

I duly sent them three to choose from, though as luck would have it they've decided to publish all three over a period of months, with the first going on line yesterday, about which I am as happy as I am grateful. Damn Right.

http://bg.buddyguy.com/private-lessons/

Review: 'Future Queens of England' by Ryan Matthews

Like I said in a previous post; it's high time I started paying attention to some of my fellow indie Kindle authors. As such I found myself scrolling away just over a week ago, keenly trying to seek out something worthy of my time. Taking a mental machete to the wall of romantic fluff that seems to constitute a large majority of what's on offer at the Kindle book store I leapt straight in, tumbling down the face of that digital skyscraper and admiring all the pretty coloured windows flashing by.

I'm not sure what lead me to Future Queens, if I'm honest. The vibrant green of its cover, perhaps, or maybe just the rather cool title; either way I found myself face down on this particular ledge and the price being right - it was a done deal.

Having ignored the blurb it was with a mild jolt of alarm that I realised several pages in that the Future Queens in the title are a class of homosexuals completing a one year course in the gay arts at the specialist college that our chief protagonist, hirsute lager-swilling alpha-lad Tony, is sent as punishment for an incident of aggravated assault. This could get very silly very quickly, I thought, which would be a shame; I'd been initially impressed with the poise, clarity and pace of Matthew's prose.

I was right...and wrong. It does get silly, but what an enjoyable silliness it is. No sooner has Tony begrudgingly checked himself in to the school for Future Queens when he is introduced to the band of gay men who will be his room-mates for the next year, a motley crew including the pun-obsessed Bruce, the icy uber-gay Uwe, and our secondary protagonist, the insecure Hugh, whose own story arc runs parallel to that of Tony's.

The real laughs for me came in the first half of the novel, as Tony struggles to maintain what little dignity he can muster; some of the slapstick scenes in which he (literally) falls victim to his own needless paranoia are particularly funny, Matthews' dead-pan delivery serving up some genuinely laugh out loud moments.

I must admit that I began to struggle around halfway; the strange phantom drawings that keep appearing around the college add a mystery element to the plot, though other than this there isn't a huge amount driving the story forward. The Future Queens' efforts on the hockey pitch, where we find them slugging it out against a Weightwatchers team and a particularly vicious crew of Lesbians, are fun, if a little repetitive. Tony's conversion from gay-hater to 'Bender Defender' is nicely done, and his romance with tutor Louise adds a further (if a little predictable) dimension to the novel, though at times I just felt that we needed something bigger and more dramatic to happen - or failing that for the book to be twenty percent shorter.

That saying, I would not hesitate to recommend this book to readers gay and straight alike. Of course there are some out there who will take offense at Matthews' use of pejorative language (I think pretty much every term of abuse one could find for homosexuals, male and female, is to be found within the pages of the novel) though at the glowing heart of this novel is an emphasis on friendship, empathy and understanding, a genuine warmth that allows the reader to put aside all thoughts of political correctness and just enjoy the experience for what it is - funny fiction, eloquently written, and well worth the time.

Click here for 'Future Queens' Amazon page

More Tea, Hilary?

Three months have sped since the first Kindle upload of my novel Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds, and it's been all go since then. For a few days nothing much happened - in my own small and selfish world, anyway - until one day I peered inside Outlook to find an email from Bono - yes THE Bono - saying how much he feckin' well loved my novel. Attached was a picture of him and David Bowie hugging in close over a Kindle whilst in the background Madonna (or someone looking very much like her) could be seen kicking off about the hijacking of her device.

Things moved pretty quickly after that. There were the television interviews, the magazine spreads and that bloody Booker nomination fiasco (the suggestion that they make room for a second winner this year was the cause of much controversy, though Hilary made it perfectly clear to me over tea and scones (my shout) that she wasn't all that bothered). The movie adaptation is on its way - Denzil's just left, as it happens - my family and I have settled into our new home in the Bahamas and I finally got that tattoo done on my back, you know, the one of the flaming Kindle Logo that I'd been promising myself for years.

So yeah, reader, there you go. Job done!

This is me signing out - it's been a ride. x

- - - - -

Lies. All of it. None of that happened (apart from the bit where I uploaded my novel). In fact nothing very much happened at all, save for several kind friends downloading, reading and (purportedly) enjoying the book. I've managed to cajole a few pleasant reviews (with only one being sweated out at gunpoint) and a two day promo via the Kindle Select Promo saw me rocketed into the stratospheric heights of the top 30 Free Kindle Downloads for Literary Humour, before the inevitable plummet back down into the inconsequential void of dark and broiling nothingness.

Which is cool. Rome, builders, days and all that. Those two promo days saw my novel downloaded a couple hundred times, and I'm sure that somewhere in amongst that lot lurks the odd global megastar whose next big project will centre around the all-important promotion of my writing career (once they've finished abolishing third world hunger, saving the rainforest, blah blah etc yawn). Failing that I can only hope that some of those downloads result in happy readers who go on to post positive reviews. (I had to smile when I read about the experiences of a fellow Kindlite at http://www.jcmells.com/authors-corner/ with regards asking friends to post a review. Whilst I am eternally grateful to the handful of mine that swiftly typed their thoughts on my novel to Amazon I still perform a daily review-dance around the wig-wam in my back garden in the hope that I can somehow telepathically motivate all those others to contribute twenty words in as many seconds.)

So yes, there we are. Book up, first free promo done, novel spread like a thin layer of literary marge across a Google-clinging gnat's Ryvita, leaving me with the dilemma facing all those other thousands of millions of trillabilly-Kindle-indie authors out there...namely, what now?

Well, we'll see. To be honest I'm actually just enjoying having a nose around the online Kindle self-publishing scene, and have already earmarked several selfies that I'm looking forward to downloading and reading. I've had some bad experiences with 'popular' published novels recently (The Slap in particular left me in need of counselling and The Hundred Year Old Man That Climbed Out of a Window Just to Piss Me Off succeeded) and it's time I started paying some real attention to the indie Kindlehood. I'm part of it, after all.

PB

Ormerland

I'm extremely grateful to Ross Weston at www.ormerland.com for featuring Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds on his excellent site. For anyone that hasn't had a good old digital rummage around Ormerland then please do; you'll find all sorts of wonderful artistic goodies from Jersey and our sister isles. We're quite a creative bunch over here, when we're not busy evading taxes, polishing yachts or milking cows.

The feature can be found here:

http://www.ormerland.com/home/coyote-jack-bluebirds-paul-bisson/

Coyote B Goode

Two weeks have settled since I uploaded Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds to KDP. Now there it is, looking nice and, well...there...on Amazon. I've yet to start marketing it (whatever form that will take), though have sent it out to a few friends to get some early input and hopefully one or two nice reviews before I pump up the jam and get this party started.

The mechanics of formatting and uploading to KDP were pretty straightforward, though with hindsight I could have saved myself a few squinty hours in front of the monitor screen if I'd known how to set up the book for Kindling beforehand. The Table of Contents handed me a small mug of warm shit at one point - for some reason every time I saved the file as a hyperlinked document all traces of my digital docu-webbing were erased the minute I reopened it. In the end I was forced to redo the sodding lot and export it still quivering, though I got there in the end.

The plus side is that some of my friends purchased a version with a broken TOC, and have therefore unwittingly set themselves up for life. That file will be worth millions in years to come. Millions.

Another colossal pain in the arse was the sheer number of typos hiding in the syntactical shadows like little twatty ninjas. You'd have thought that three solid edits by myself and two external proof-reads would have been enough to smoke the word-assassins out, yet still there they were, a bucket load of the little swine, leaping like fleas from the shaggy hide of my novel as the Spellcheck combed them free. Should I happen to find any survivors I will have no choice but to adapt the applicable grammatical or spelling variation into my everyday life in the vague attempt to nullify the typo by rendering it the norm.

Anyway, I'm pleased to have The Bluebirds up and out there, and looking forward to hearing what people think. Go go go...go Coyote, go go go...

Cover Story

Et voila. I'm really pleased with this, and think that the graphic designer did a great job of bringing the brief to life. I had the notion of presenting some kind of 'do-it-yourself-bluesman' kit, though had no real idea how this was going to translate in pixels. The final effect is, in my opinion, rather pleasing, and does a good job of representing the novel's central conceit. 

The faded brown graph paper was an afterthought - the initial cover used a bright blue background that stood out well when reduced to thumbnail size and slotted into the Kindle Store yet was fairly garish when viewed up close. Though somewhat toned down by comparison, this final version has a much more professional feel to it. 

The strapline 'They Woke Up This Morning' was an after-afterthought, intended to provide some sort of curiosity-arousing enticement to delve into the novel. As well as connoting the blues via reference to that old cliche it can also be said to apply to each of the central characters, who literally do 'wake up' to themselves throughout the course of the novel.

Of course the red guitar is meant to represent a phallus firing up into the fertile concavity of that hat, whilst the black of those boots is a direct reference to Thanatos, the Greek personification of death. Hidden within the green dot of the fag packet is the all-seeing eye of Freemasonry, and if you count all the squares on the page and divide them by the number of frets on the guitar multiplied by the dashes around the bottle you get 11, which happens to be the scrabble score for the word COYOTE. 

And you thought it was just a standard book cover. Tsk.

It's All White

Snowmageaddon has hit Jersey, a good two inches of the stuff. I've already been out with my four year old son making the obligatory snowman, a dwarfish and mai oui carrot-nosed monstrosity that I look forward to watching melt in the days to come. Of course the camera came out and of course my instant thought was to upload said picture to Facebook, accompanied hard on by its sister thought disgust (the two occur almost simultaneously these days) and yet another rumination on how our entire lives seem to have bifurcated into two distinct strands - experience as we are living it and the burning desire to somehow document the moment and share it with others on the internet.

Sure enough within a few hours my timeline was clogged with the snowmen - sorry, snowpeople - of my friends, and what lovely snowfolk they'd created. And photographed. And uploaded to the internet.

I have a lovely idea for a short story featuring an alien race that descend in their big glowing ship and ask a group of humans to be taken to their nearest leader. The humans instantly get their smart phones and laptops out to begin the inevitable process of uploading pictures of the aliens to Facebook and Twittering about the #alieninvasion and making extraterrestrial fatties on Fat Booth and sampling the the noise of their spaceship as a clip on Soundcloud etc until the aliens get so bored and frustrated that they simply climb back upon their craft and fly away again. 

Anyway, in an attempt to counter these cynical thoughts I decided to log on to this blog and talk to no-one about stuff that no-one yet as heard of. And what jolly good fun I'm having.

The multi-faceted mission that is Coyote Jack and the Bluebirds moves into its final stages. My lovely wife is doing a slow but painfully precise proof read for me, and thank goodness for that - it's amazing the errors that slip through. Enquiries into a cover design have lead me (via a series of mind-blowingly expensive quotes) to an old friend with a talent for graphic design who for a nominal fee is currently working on a 'deconstructed bluesman' graphic. I'm looking forward to seeing how that goes.

Speaking of short stories (as I believe I did earlier) I've just written my first few in what must be nearly ten years. A.Po's Trophy is a short first person piece about a serial killing teacher with an apostrophe fixation, whereas Our Daily Bread is a ten thousand worder featuring two priests at feud. I'm pretty pleased with both, and may well send one or both of them off to see if I can't get myself published somewhere nice and sexy.

Been reading lots too. This past few months have seen me smash Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov  (amazing book, stylistically deranged though featuring some exquisite moments and utterly memorable scenes), Sam Mills' The Quiddity of Will Self (enjoyable yet more a linguistic exercise in metafiction than anything I really cared about), and Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut (love that man). Currently I am reading Short Day Dying by Peter Hobbs and enjoying it very much, for all its existential bleakness and comma-less gloom.

Right, that will do for now. Time to turn the video camera off and upload this video of myself blogging about internet fixation to Youtube. 

Stay warm people.