Broken will always be broken...

...is the title of my now completed third book. Fully finished, fully edited, front and back covers done...even the thank you page is complete!

I am very happy with it as it reads and flows well (despite the distinct style changes over the course of its three main parts), makes a sort of sense as the third part of the trilogy with my first two books, and, is an original, honest and at times, fantastical, piece of work. I am happy with the various drawings and photographs included in it as well as the short pieces of poetry and children narrative dotted about. It is at times, as expected, raw and brutal, uncompromising and painful but it also has a simple message at the end which I think a lot of people can relate to.

But, I hear you ask, what is it actually about? Well, our main character has found a way to traverse through "reflections" in his life in an attempt to make sense of his existence. He travels to the past and the future and gets trapped in the present for a period. We see the birth of our universe as well as the destruction of the Earth, spend intimate time with family as well as amongst the stars, and, raise the question of regret and how far we will go in order to put right what once went wrong.
Naturally, it is based on my life with 99% of the past and present sections pulled from memory having happened to me. The rest is possible future time lines with maybe just a dash of sci-fi thrown in for good measure. 

The next stage is self publication. I have shopped around but it looks like I will be once again using the same publisher I used for my other two books. This time though, I want it to be hardback and bigger in size...unfortunately that  means all the costs will be higher so it may be at least the end of February before I begin the self-publishing process!

Until then, see below for a little snippet of what to expect:

As he stepped out, the rhythmic pounding echoed in the distance and he could just about feel it through the ground. And yet despite the distance away the piston worked, evidence of the damage it caused was all around him, especially on the gravestones themselves; there weren’t any of them still intact. James shuffled through careful not to stand on any rubble and rock, his concentration remaining fully on the ground and how he walked on his swollen ankle. Eventually he arrived at the grave he was visiting. Even though it too had succumbed to the fracking piston, he had made some makeshift repairs using the pieces that had broken off mixed with fresh concrete. It certainly wasn’t pretty but its shape remained as close to its original and he was determined to keep it that way.

                He dropped to one knee and kissed the headstone before lightly brushing it with the feather duster he somehow suddenly materialised from the overlong and ripped coat that hung from his body. He then sat down with his back resting on the headstone and placed his palms onto the ground itself gripping the soil with his fingers and whispering words only she could hear. James could feel the rhythmic pounding rippling through his entire body sat in this position; through his fingers, under his bum, on his back…he imagined it was her heartbeat coming from the grave itself. As much as he wanted to sit here forever, in reality his legs were cold and his bum was numb after twenty minutes. As he prepared to make the struggle of actually getting up from this position, he noticed something new protruding from the ground a couple of yards in front of him. Crawling over to what looked like a white ball half sticking out the ground, he stopped sharp in his tracks when he noticed what it really was; the top half of a skull.

A new year...

...a new project! So, the last project I blogged about is coming to an end (7th January) so of course, I need a new project to get my writing teeth into. This time, I look for the future for inspiration.

To be honest, it seems that this new project will tag on to the end of my last 2 projects and will form a trilogy within a single book. The first part deals with my character managing to relive parts of his life through reflections whilst the second part has him stuck in one of said reflections living out the period I am living out now whilst the third part has him stuck in a future completely alone. Questions raised include identity, depression, loss, suicide, meaning of life, meaning of death, mental illness and the ramifications of actions and the absolute harm it does...heavy stuff!

The plan is to finish the second part in a few days then continue the third whilst revising and editing the rest. It feels like a daunting task but to be honest, I have pretty much revised and edited the first part and really just need to flesh bits out and tie it all up. The second part I have revised and edited on the go so that shouldn't need much work. And the plan for the third part will to keep it tight and fairly short. Below is an excerpt from the third part:

the future…

chapter one

A rhythmic pounding slow and steady rips through the dour brown morning. Every time the sun threatens to pierce the clouds, they slide across and block it out with a defiant glee and mischief. James stands in the corner of the garden looking out at nothing and everything waiting for the horizon to reveal the thing he is searching for. He narrows his vision and adjusts the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose fully aware that no amount of squinting or playing with the glasses will help his old eyes see into the distance. And then, just as before, she appears…and suddenly he is awake.

He stretches his body down the single bed grimacing as his bones crack and his muscles spasm. As usual, the sheets are damp with sweat and he knows the time without having to look; so routine and predictable are his sleep patterns these days.

The rhythmic pounding is still there. In fact, it never goes away.

Groaning as he sits up, he wipes the drool from his mouth and scratches out the crust from the corner of his eyes. A sudden pain strikes his chest causing him to grasp at it and regulate his wheezy breathing. As it subsides, he pushes himself to a standing position and staggers out the small room and into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet to piss for a good ten minutes is the norm now but at least it gives him the time to wake up as the urine spurts out in fits and starts stinging as it does. He flushes and watches his marmalade coloured piss get replaced by the murky stinking water of the tank before using bottled water over the sink to wash his hands.

A new project...

...came to mind a few weeks ago. I applied for, and got, a new job and started work last Thursday. It is different from my previous job and is, so far, only until the 7th January 2017 (which ironically is the same exact date I was made redundant this year). It is OK. I go in, do what I am told and come home. Simple.

Anyway, the new project will be similar to the diary part in 'this heat, it's hell closing in on me' in that I will be writing every day in entries entitled "Day..." and talking about feelings on that particular day. But it is also planned to be a journey even deeper into my own mental issues and the search for the purpose of life. Recently, I have felt that there is something just there, just out of reach that will explain this existence and give me the answers I desperately seek (don't we all) so I am hoping this new project will help. It is also something to keep me writing every day despite now being back in (virtually) full time employment.

I have also finally finished editing everything I have written for my 3rd book, the prequel/sequel to my first 2 books and even managed to continue with the story. This is the book I wanted to write after being made redundant at the start of this year which has not only matured from a children book into the beast that it is now but also been a complete nightmare to track and edit...but it is getting there. But for now, a little sneak peek at the new project:

Day - minus 2

How many steps are there in your house? I bet you count them every time you walk up and down the stairs. You don’t? Why not?! What the hell is wrong with you!

There are 14 steps in my house. I know because I count them every time I walk up and down the stairs (and because I have just checked…twice). And by the way, I am not counting the landing as a step. There are 14 steps when I go up the stairs and 14 steps when I go down them…simple.

How do you know something is real until you actually touch it? I look out my bedroom window and see green fields that stretch for miles; trees and bushes litter the landscape and the odd tractor or car trundles down the single track road. I have walked the fields and driven the road many times therefore at that point, they were real. But what about when I am merely the observer?

What happens to us when we die? I suppose it depends on beliefs and upbringings of the individual. Do we just rot away into nothingness or does our soul (if we have one) transcend and live on? Is the notion of “heaven” and “hell” a false notion or do they exist? Some will argue that during our lives we experience both as a direct relation to how we act and what we do. Surely chocolate and sex are versions of heaven whilst pain and the loss of a loved one reflect hell?

And what about the time we have on this planet. The norm has us working in a job we don’t like for the sole purpose of being paid. We spend the majority of our conscious years slaving away to maintain our material possessions whilst being treated like slabs of meat by those above us. Even the ones who keep us safe or mend our broken bones are not credited as they should be. 

Don’t get me started on how we treat each other, the animals we share the Earth with (yes…share) and the planet itself. I thought humanity was meant to be the most intelligent species on Earth, yet, it seems to be the only one to actually de-evolve over time!

broken will always be broken

I have lost the reflection I once had, cracked mirror all that remains.

Broken will always be broken, glass eyes are long forgotten.

No kiss can give life, tears dry and rock.

Dark breathe, take my hand.

What can I do?

Where can I go?

Home…

I feel the cold…only because I am not warm. Coffee helps. Coffee helps with a lot of things. Why is that? I drink a lot of coffee. I listen to a lot of music. Music isn’t just one of the pleasures in life…it is life.

Music is poetry sound tracked by living sound. I wish I could see music. Watch its colours spiral and spin, smell its emotions chop and change, touch its beat heart and soul. If there is a meaning to life, an answer to why we are here then it must be hidden inside music…possibly!

I went for a walk. My body pranced about amongst the trees and fields traversing the path nature had created whilst my mind toiled with my worthlessness, debated the point of me actually being here and reminded myself that no one gives a shit about me.

…my mind is fire,

a desire for destruction

aimed inwards,

wolves tearing pieces,

a savage hanging

of fresh scars,

and broken hope.

Designing front and back covers...

...for my books is always something I look forward to. 'Love or Suicide and the Life In Between' and 'this heat, it's hell closing in on me' had their covers designed and created by myself and related directly to the contents and subject matter in them.

There wasn't any point looking at stock designs or asking someone else to design them as it simply wouldn't work. Not that its a bad thing going down that route, more because I was the best person to portray the two books visually on the front and back cover due to the personal aspect of them. It helps that I am pretty artistic and studied Art as well as Design & Technology in College. For me, it also highlights the fact that the two books are self-published so every single thing...from content to layout, grammar to fonts and front cover to back cover...is all me. So, after completion of my third book, 'to be performed from under a table' came the task of creating a front and back cover.

First thing was first, the book was about my reaction to the world we live in, my place in it and the very real thoughts of suicide and how that would affect the people around me. So, the covers had to relate to this directly.
Secondly, I wanted something iconic and simple. Pink Floyd's Dark Side Of The Moon is so iconic, both musically and visually, and the cover of the album is so simple. On the other hand, you have Sgt Peppers by The Beatles which has a cover crammed yet is just as iconic as Dark Side.
And thirdly, I wanted to design and create it using the tools available to me just by switching my laptop on...I didn't want to download or purchase any fancy software.

My initial thought was a completely black cover with a small white hole in the middle...to signify a journey or passing over to the other side (go to the light). I decided against this though because I didn't think it would grab the attention of someone looking to buy it. Then I thought of incorporating a table (due to the title and the content) but again vetoed this for the same reason as the black cover/white hole idea. Then, I thought of a door. And then of a figure walking towards it. Inside the door could be a universe...which would signify either death or life. But then I came up with idea of showing, very clearly, that this figure had committed suicide by slashing his wrists. Furthermore, I wanted the title of the book on the front (but in a strange font) and for the first time ever, some blurb on the back about the book.

And so I set about creating and designing it. It didn't take me long and I didn't mess about with it during its birth. I had a clear idea of what I wanted it to look like and represent and I set about doing it. Yes, I could have easily gone over and over it adding little details or changes, but, like the contents, I wanted it to be raw, to the point and clear. Simple yet very effective. Open to interpretation and also very honest about what it was trying to say. So, here it is, the front cover for my third book.