Writing update...

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This heat...its hell closing in on me...

....is the title for my first proper novel.  I finished my 'two zero one four' writing project on the 31st December last year and am pleased with the outcome.  More than anything, it forced me to write every day.  Anyway, moving forward to 2015, I have given myself a whole year to write my first proper novel.  It is basically a culmination of everything I have been through with a view of finally putting a lid on it all and starting a fresh in 2016.


What I am trying to do though is push the boundaries of what a novel should be.  Using inspiration from films like Birdman and Interstelllar through to TV shows like American Horror Story and The Walking Dead to music from the likes of Devin Townsend and Aphex Twin...my intention is to create something that is visceral and real but also fantastic and out there.  So far, it is going well and I am following a natural story and feel.


Other exciting things happening is my continued success from my erotic/naughty writings - a current short story accepted by The Erotic Woman and available for your reading pleasure by the end of the month.  I have already been to 2 amazing concerts this year...Queen with Adam Lambert and Slipknot supported by Korn.  Both were bloody awesome but Slipknot just killed it...visually and sonically!  I have also finally re-joined the gym and my absolute intention is to lose weight and add some more years to my life through fitness and good eating (I am now meat free as well).  I went to see Fantasia live with an orchestra, watched Whiplash and Birdman in the cinema (both bloody awesome films), continue to be fascinated with Twitter and have just joined Goodreads.  All in all, a good start to 2015.  Anyway, I will leave you all with an excerpt from my new novel 'This heat...its hell closing in on me'.

'A lone saxophone draws me awake and eases me into the land of the living.  A soft whispering wall of background noise caresses my tired eyes allowing light to creep in.  I begin to stretch my bones and muscles and feel my heart beat to the sound of rhythm bass; steady and strong.  My breathing is calm and regular which just a very slight skip to it, accompanied by a foghorn of music that combines into one glorious chorus.

My soul is becoming bright and warm with every passing second, a rainbow of joy and complication with its own specific dance and sway; a click of the fingers, a shift of the hips.  I stand tall and stiff reaching up to the very stars that adorn my surroundings and reach for one that is engulfed by flame and pulsating with energy; is this Eden?  I jump high, I jump higher, I jump as high as I have ever done and I am off, floating towards this possibility of peace and desire. 

I drift past the lost ones, the ones who need someone to live by; the rockers and the rollers.  I see the young…no!  I see the ‘far too young to be here’ with their painful expressions and forced smiles clawing their way upwards.  I see them as they see themselves and it breaks my heart.  I see the marks on their arms and the trail of tears they leave behind.  Their soundtrack is one of string and organ, melancholy and sad but with a sharp bite that hits hard.  Whatever led them here in life begins to peel away the skin they cling onto and a new one forms; divine and beautiful.  And they sore with a purpose once missing, now reclaimed; god speed'.

  

Indeed...

...it has been a while again.  Concentrating on my current writing project, holding down a full time job and getting through the everyday trials of life has meant I have neglected my blog unfortunately. 


As my current project /two zero one four' is now coming to an end, I thought I would reflect on it.  I began it as a way of pushing myself to have to write every day...the nature of the project was basically a diary but in poetry form.  With this respects, it has succeeded and I believe I have written some of my best work and have improved my writing and really thought about what I am attempting to get across with my words.  But...I have found that I repeat myself a fair bit.  I think the reason for this is just the mundane nature of life sometimes...get up, go to work, come home, have tea, go to bed and then do it all again.


I am still very proud of what I have done so far and with a matter of weeks till it is complete, look forward to reading it as a whole.


It is what comes next that is really getting my excitement boiling though!!!  My first proper novel!!!  A project I began last year as a rough outline and a project which is not only the sequel to my self published book 'Love Or Suicide and the Life In between' but also an honest and open outpouring of the darkest period of my life so far.


Anyway, a few treats below from 'two zero one four' - see you soon!!

31^st October

all you need is six lines

part 31

so did I emphasise the detail?

did I bring all the sins of emotion?

do you need more than six lines

to dig through the piss and shit,

six lines bleeding with hurt and pain,

six lines breathing with life and death…did I?

1^st November

Questions

Don’t dare question what you are not willing to change,

your thin honour wants to be part of this world

but it isn’t willing to help it; a stab in the back.

 

Ignoring the suffering,

complaining about the lack of luxury

in your world of comfort,

not even realising the strings…

 

…black, infinite, unbreakable.

 

The endless cycle of hushed tones,

guessing this and that,

putting too much faith in stories,

putting too much faith in words,

putting too much faith in men.

 

And so you end up running away from you

instead of facing the piss and shit.

You end up accepting the strings dangling

with swaying menace and control.

Watching innocence pay the price,

listening to the wrong answers

and mourning the wrong people…

…universal hope is never too far away.

 

Can you set yourself free?

Can you cut the strings?

Can you?

Been a while...

...since my last post and for very good reason - THE MOVE!!!


Yes, we finally completed the move and it took a good 5 months.  Since then we have been making sure the house is fully furnished and finished to the standard we feel comfortable with and yesterday the final piece of the puzzle was complete...the dining table.  We now have everything we wanted and are only left with a few cosmetic improvements.


Am I happy?  Yes!  Although it has taken me a while to fully adjust, I reckon I am about 90% there.  It was, and still is, sad to have moved out of the house I have lived my entire life (37 years as of now) but it was the perfect time to do it.


So, my writing...how has that been going I here you ask.  Well, pretty damn good.  This year was to be the year I wrote every day and to create a project of poetry, similar to a diary, of each day, what happened, how I felt etc.  And apart from a handful of days, I have so far managed to stick to this and it is turning out to be a very interesting piece of work with some of my best (and worst) work.  I am determined to continue this till the end of 2014 and then look at publishing in some form or another.


Below, there is some morsels for you to digest...enjoy:

9^th June

Hollow

Swallowing darkness choking on swine,

this hollow dream a startling reality,

stumbling with each step forward,

falling backwards to that final cut,

no one to catch me, no one but

the shadow with the knife in his back,

a reflection of future mistakes,

a sorry lost mind - his only crime.

 Suffocating on this vast landscape,

this hollow isolation burns with paranoia,

whispering words of fear and hate,

turning warm brown eyes cold and distant,

connection gone, final communication sent,

tear stained ticket tape of blood,

lights on, nobody home,

a true victim of self-inflicted rape.

 Slipping down ropes and noose,

this hollow victory laced with razors,

perfect sense with deserved judgement,

in this end there remains a nothingness,

memory of me is gone, a coward no less,

as time wipes the slate clean and they forget,

don’t look so surprised, it’s only business,

just another numbered statistic let loose.

 

2^nd April

Surgeons words

Crackling heartbeats pulsate in my ear,

the beep beep of monitors reducing

time we patients have in this life,

a resolve of harmony and destiny

twisting language with forked tongues,

let’s clap along and dance about,

let’s ride this wave of thunderous chops,

the bells calling, the last gasp fading,

specimens battle worn and trapped

beckoning and scraping your teeth,

burrowing into every nerve, naïve

a very nasty bedside manner

demanding the space you occupy as their own,

burning dying senses with prism voices,

a marker in black lowering a fant o mas

and a ping tells us we are done,

echoing with an eternal surgical sound,

no more screams, no more shouts, no more nothing,

reduced to ticks of a clock and tocks of a memory,

murmurings of wobbly sci-fi eeriness

on an ocean explosion of denial and loss,

the white noise of death taking us in,

up above or down below we swirl,

our surgeons words punctuated with a whistle

and a museum of discarded rubber gloves.

 

18^th March

Noise

Barbaric screeching pulses,

a hypnotic beat leads the way,

half words prey out and about,

strings scratch and stutter

and an angel serenades.

 Garbage collides with fire,

breezeblock of flutter screams,

distant cries feed fear,

echoes of torture resonate

and a wall implodes.

 Eerie waves vibrate inside,

clown music tinkers on,

playful ghouls dance,

layered voices pile in

and form disembodied growls.

Safety dribbles all over me,

the floating keys bobbing along,

hints of the industrial age swell,

whooshing from ear to ear

and opening a vortex of sound.

 Bring on the jazz vibe,

the lonely guitar sings,

pinging electronica pings,

madness and beauty swim

and create a dev lab.