Today’s The Day…

Today I start my creative writing course at University.

Over the past few years, I’ve written 3 books – Creatures, The Next Stage and Blindsighted –  and in that time, I have learned a lot about being a writer, but now I’m doing something that will help me improve even further; I’m heading to university to do a course on creative writing.

A year ago, I never would have thought that would be happening. I thought I’d lost my love of IT, and I wouldn’t find anything else that I could genuinely get into, but I was wrong. Despite no longer liking working in IT, I thought that I would inevitably drift back into it as it was the only thing I’ve ever known and that I was good at.

Writing came out of nowhere as a hobby and something I would do after my day job or at weekends. But it soon became bigger than that, and I wanted to take it further by making it my career.

I’m by no means the best of writers, and I’m not so up my own arse that I don’t think I could learn more about the craft, so when the opportunity came up to go to university to study it, despite being sceptical at first, thinking I wouldn’t get in, I jumped at the chance.

Today is what this past year has been all about. It’s all been leading to this point. The beginning of a new journey in my life. One that I want to make the very best of and one I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

Today is a big day for me. I’m excited and anxious as all hell, but I’m going to go and put everything I have into it.

This week is going to be a big adjustment for me. It’s the first week in a long time that I’ve had to be somewhere and not be able to do my own thing. It’s been over a year since I quit my 9-5, and I still don’t think that I’ve adjusted to a new routine. Now I’m throwing myself into a new one, and I’m hoping that my brain doesn’t implode. I’m just lucky to have someone who is always behind me and supports what I want to do. Alex is always there for me and encouraging me, and I couldn’t have got here without her. Sorry to be soppy, but my wife is the best 😊

So now, I’m away to start on the new road my life has taken; wish me luck!

Coming Next Week: University!

Next week I have the start of all things university. I’ll be beginning my induction week on Monday, where I will learn more about my course and meet some of the people involved in it.

I’m simultaneously both looking forward to this and dreading it.

My anxiety is hitting the roof right now and only seems to be getting worse the closer I get to starting. This is usually the case when I have to do something, especially something new, but I’m generally okay once I start, so I’m hoping this will follow previous patterns.

I can’t wait to start, it’s a whole new adventure for me, and I look forward to everything it brings.

I’ve had my schedule through for when the course actually starts, and I’m not in all that much – in fact, I’m only in 2 days. As I’ve not been in full-time education for years, I’m doing what’s called a ‘foundation year’. This will ease me into uni life slowly and teach me how to study again (something that I’ve never been great at historically). I would imagine that my schedule will be a little busier when I start my true first year of the course.

For now, though, two days where I’m required to be there isn’t too bad and depending on what I have to do for uni, I will be able to continue with my current schedule of writing and blogging, at least for a bit. However, I’m sure I’ll eventually have to work out something new to take into account my course requirements.

As I said, I’ve got a mixture of hope and fear going into this course, but I’m mainly trying to stay positive. It will help me with my writing and maybe even help me get a job in the future.

While I’m studying, make my day even better by picking up a copy of one of my books. Each book bought puts a smile on my face, so head over to Amazon and check them out.

What To Write?

Being a writer sometimes means that you have to juggle your different ideas. I recently asked my fellow writers on Twitter how they decide which idea to work on;

I currently have around 9 ideas that are in various stages of development. Some are just a very basic idea, some have a number of notes written for them, and others have several chapters done.

I tend to flit between ideas often. If I have a new idea that I want to develop, I will spend some time working on that before continuing with previous ideas. Some stories come easier than others. For example, I got a bit stuck with my story It’s All in the Eyes, and then I had the idea for Blindsighted. I found the latter flowed smoother and quicker, and I could fully develop that into a release.

At the moment, I’m working on, And Then I Killed Her, which for now is coming freely. However, if I get stuck, I may move on to one of my other ideas.

Having said that, if I come up with a new idea – for example, I came up with an idea for a new story the other day that involves a homeless wizard – I may spend a few minutes writing a few sentences or jotting down the basic premise, but I won’t spend a great deal of time working on it.

Some books, like The Next Stage 2 and Creatures 2, are coming off the back of a previous entry, so I have a few ideas bouncing around of where I can take the story, but because – in my mind – they have to live up to the book that came before I spend a bit more time figuring things out. Creatures 2 is around halfway written, but I got a little stuck and decided that I would move on to something else rather than struggling with it.

It can be a blessing and a curse to have a lot of ideas bouncing around. On the one hand, it’s great because you’ve always got something to work on if you have issues with a current WIP. But on the other, it can be a pain because I want to work on several at a time. For example, I’m really excited about my wizard story, but my current serial killer WIP is going so well that I don’t want to stop writing it if I lose my flow.

As I’ve found from asking folks on Twitter, everyone has a different way of figuring out which story they will work on at any given time. As with many things, what works for one, might not work for you, so find your own method.

My University Journey

If you’ve read some of my previous blog posts, you’ll know that I’m starting university in September. I’ll be off to The University of Salford to study a creative writing course, and I honestly can’t wait. Although a part of me is quite nervous.

I applied for my course back in December 2020 as I had left my job earlier in the year and got a little disillusioned with working in IT. I needed a change, and as I had found something I loved – writing –  I wanted to do something that would help me further my skills and perhaps stand me in good stead for a future job role. I was tentative to apply because I’d obviously already had my A-Level results, and they weren’t the best. I was worried that the length of time between now and college was too long, too.

It was an easy process to go through, and although I didn’t have to wait until my results came in, I still had to wait to find out if I had a place or not. I had a pretty decent personal statement that I tried my best to sell myself with, though, and I hoped that this would be enough.

The waiting for the application deadline and the university’s response was unbearable. I just had this feeling that my poor results and age would go against me.

The deadline for a response from the uni was May, and just before it was up, I got a conditional offer. This offer was based on me proving what grades I got at A-level. Now came the fun part; finding the evidence. I knew that I had them with my ROA (Record of Achievement), but as we’d just moved house, I had no idea where that was. After a bit of digging, though, we found it, and I sent it over. Although that was the only thing I had been asked to do, I still had a feeling that it was going to go wrong in some way. So, when an unconditional offer came through just a few days later, I was over the moon. I’d done it; I’d got into uni.

There wasn’t much for me to do in the following few months other than sort out my student finance and wait to start. But as time passed, I began to get more and more anxious about going. As much as I was looking forward to it, there was always that small part of my brain telling me that they’d realise their mistake soon and I won’t be able to go after all.

Thankfully, that time hasn’t come, and I’ve recently registered properly for my course and have received my student card through. I now feel like I can relax and stop thinking that they’ll rescind their offer, but now I’m just really anxious to start.

It’s only a matter of weeks until I start, and I’m trying to get myself prepared. I’m going to spend my time putting together blogs that I can schedule and reading up on my modules and whatnot for the course.

For the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to my future (work-wise), and I can’t wait to get going.

Publishing: It’s Your Decision

Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen an increase in people talking down to or just downright insulting those of us that self-publish our books. I don’t understand this mentality. There are many reasons why someone might choose to self-publish their work and several different ways that they can do it. None of these reasons means that they are any less of a writer or that they deserve to be talked down to or treated like crap.

For me, self-publishing was always the way I was going to go. So when I wrote Creatures, publishing using KDP seemed like the logical choice. It was my first book and something that I just wanted to get out into the world. I didn’t fancy spending hours trying to bag an agent or a traditional publisher, and it meant that I could have more creative control over the story, look and feel of the novel. Yes, there is a lot of work required for marketing your self-published book, but even that is nothing compared to querying multiple places.

Creatures did alright going the self-publish route, so when it came to my next novel, The Next Stage, it was a no brainer, really. Even though I knew that this was a better novel than my previous one, I still wanted to have complete creative control over my work.

Being a traditionally published author doesn’t mean that your work is any better than those that choose the self-publish route. I’ve read some brilliant self-published stories just like I’ve read some shite traditionally published ones.

Editing of self-published books is another thing that has been dragged through the dirt. Many self-published authors do so without any financial backing. They have to do everything from writing, editing, cover creating and marketing themselves. Sometimes things slip through the cracks editing -wise. I get less annoyed by errors in a self-published book than I do when finding them in traditionally published books that have professional editors behind them. Plus, the good thing about self-publishing your book is that if you or someone else spots an error, it’s a simple case of editing your manuscript and re-uploading it, whereas God knows what it would take to change a traditionally published book.

I’m not mentioning any names, but one person in particular on Twitter has been kicking up a stink recently and trying to rip self-published authors to shreds. However, when I looked into their publishing, they’re using a hybrid publisher. A hybrid publisher is a publishing house that wants you to pay and do all the work, but they take credit for the work. In other words, you pay for the privilege of being a self-published author. In simpler terms, you get ripped off! Maybe this method works for some people, but it seems too dodgy to me. It certainly doesn’t give you the right to piss all over other people’s hard work. I got an offer from a hybrid publisher for The Next Stage, but I didn’t have £3000 – and wasn’t willing – to throw at them to basically do nothing

I guess what I’m trying to say in this blog post is simply this; stop being a dick. People have reasons why they take the route they take with their work, and it’s not for anyone else to comment on.

I’ve had it said to me that self-published authors aren’t real authors and couldn’t get traditionally published if they tried. The thing is…I don’t want to try. I’m happy – as are many other people – with the way that I publish, so I say again; stop being a dick.

This post turned into a little more of a rant than I originally planned, but I get fed up of idiots gatekeeping being an author. If you write, you’re an author. Whether you publish your work or just have it in a notebook that only you look at. Don’t let anybody tell you what route to go with your work. At the end of the day, it’s your time and effort that’s gone into it, so do with it as you see fit.

Whichever way you decide to publish your works, remember one thing – don’t be a dick.

The Joys of Physio

Yesterday I went for my monthly physiotherapy appointment. Over the last week or so my hip has felt a little worse than it has done and it’s felt like the exercises I’ve been given have just been irritating it. I mentioned it to my physio and he had to do his usual range of motion stuff and he told me that my hip is starting to seize up slightly. I’ve now been told to add some rolls into my exercises…It just gets more and more fun!

One good thing, though, is that I’m seeing the consultant on the 20th of September to hopefully discuss surgery. I feel like this has been dragging on for ages now, and I’m totally fed up with having to take pain meds multiple times a day. There are days that it really gets to me. If they’re still going to drag their feet with the surgery, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Don’t get me wrong, the thought of having surgery fills me with so much anxiety that that alone sometimes tips me over the edge, but it’s either that or being in pain even longer; and if rather not be in pain any longer than I have to.

But, looking on the bright side, in further along with the whole thing than I was a few months ago, so there’s that.

This time next month I will have started university. I’m hoping that this will keep my mind occupied and away from my hip pain. I just hope that all the moving around won’t make things worse for me.

I’m trying to stay positive, but sometimes it’s hard. For now, I just have to throw myself into my writing and hopefully I’ll be getting my surgery before I know it.

That’s it for me this week. Have a good weekend all.

Ghostly Occurrences in Apartment 42: Part XIII

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII


Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII


In last week’s post, I finished going through the YouTube videos and all that I experienced whilst recording them. I also talked about why I stopped filming. This doesn’t mean that things stopped happening however.

I would see and hear things around the flat daily, but because of being scratched and fearing for what else this unknown entity could do, I no longer wanted to film anything.

Several visitors to the apartment would also experience things from shadows and noises to cold spots as time went on. But there wasn’t anything that felt as bad as that night did.

This would change, however, when Alex moved in with me.

I didn’t wait long before I showed her the videos and explained everything that had been happening. She freely admitted that although she didn’t think I had any reason to make it up, she didn’t necessarily believe me, that is until things started to happen to her.

It wasn’t long before she started to see shadows similar to the ones I’d seen – in the corner of rooms and at the front door.

In summer – a few months after she’d moved in – she was going for a late-night cigarette at the Juliet balcony. When she came back into the bedroom, she asked if I had just been out and stood in the doorway. I told her I hadn’t moved, and she explained what had happened. While she was stood at the doors, she heard footsteps on the carpet behind her and saw someone stood in the doorway. She said that it felt like someone was watching her. It was like I had come out of the bedroom, stood at the door to the lounge for a few seconds and then went back to bed. The feeling that she had lined up with the way that I had felt on numerous occasions. This was just the start of things.

In the night, we both started to see a shadow in the bedroom just behind the door. It wasn’t just a shadow; it looked like it had some substance. When a car would pull into the car park that was behind the flat, headlights would shine into the room, but they wouldn’t light up the shape. It was as if the blackness just absorbed the light. This shape would appear nightly and would move to the front door if we left the bedroom to go to the bathroom. Over the following weeks, this shadow would move closer to the bed and eventually would be stood by the bookcase right at the end of the bed. This closeness left us with a feeling of being watched by something intrusive.

One night when we were both asleep, I awoke to the sound of Alex shouting. I was pretty out of it after taking my meds, but I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she had woken up to seeing something over me. When she described it, she said it was a person with white eyes and their mouth hanging open – she kept repeating white eyes. I didn’t feel anything, and I couldn’t wake myself up, so I ended up going back to sleep. The next day she told me all about what she had seen. She explained that it was a person that she could still picture. It was hovering above me with its mouth wide open and had bright white eyes. She said that when she saw it, her fight or flight had kicked in and she was ready to fend off a person in our flat. When she had shouted out, she said that the thing turned its head to look directly at her and then slowly retreated down the bed and faded away into the darkness of the room. To this day, she can still picture the thing that was over me. I wish I had been more awake or that I had seen it too. I’d never had anything so clear. The only person who had seen an actual face was my friend Mark.

This night left an impression on Alex, and she started to experience a lot more strange occurrences. Like me, she would be in the bathroom having a shower and would see shadows on the other side of the curtain. One time she heard a hard banging on the bathroom door; thinking I was back from work, she called out to me, but there was no answer. The front door was locked, so no one could have got in.

By now, I wasn’t really experiencing all that much. I would occasionally see the shadow behind the front door if I got up in the night or the shape at the end of the bed, but nothing to the scale of what I had previously had.

We both were now of the impression that since the night she had seen the thing over me, that whatever this was now knew that she was there and had started to lock more onto her.

The next thing that would happen would freak Alex out to the point where she nearly left the flat.

One wintery evening, when she had got back from work, Alex was sat on the bed reading her phone in the dark, when she saw something move at the end of the bed. When she went to investigate, she saw that one of our giant microbes had moved off the bookcase. It was on the lower shelf and couldn’t have just rolled off. She had seen it enter her eye line before it fell to the floor. When she looked at the corner of the room, she could see the shape blocking the doorway – by this point, an oppressive feeling was emanating from it. Using her foot, she lifted the microbe back up onto the shelf. She quickly put the torch on her phone and made a dash for the door, and ran to the lounge, putting lights on as she went. She then called me. I was at work but was coming to the end of the day. I could hear the fear in her voice, so I left work without a second thought and made my way home. On my journey, we spoke on the phone, and by the time I got home, I half expected her to be sat in the car park. But when I got back, she was seated in the lounge.

When things like this had happened before, I could feel it when I entered the flat, but this time everything felt normal. I said hello to Alex and quickly went into the bedroom. When I turned the light on, the microbe was back on the floor and was now a few feet away from the bookshelf. I called Alex and asked about it, and that’s when she told me about putting it back. I picked I up and put it back on the shelf again. I could see that Alex was visibly shaken by what had happened. It certainly felt like it knew she was here now. This being said, things seemed to quieten down for a bit, with only the usual shadows being seen.

A few months later, we were having a drunken music night in the lounge after spending the day packing, ready for our imminent move. The night was foggy, and still, there wasn’t even the sound of cars outside. It had gotten quite late, and I went to the bathroom while Alex had a cigarette at the patio doors. When I left the room and passed the spare room, I heard a rustling noise coming from the centre of the room where we had stacks of boxes. Paying this no mind, I went into the bathroom. A few seconds later, there was an almighty noise. I thought that someone in the flat upstairs had slammed a door. When I came out of the bathroom, it was dark. It was then that I noticed that the door to the lounge was shut. I opened it up and saw Alex stood at the balcony. When I asked what happened, she told me that the door had just slammed. Now, when I left the room, I had opened the door wide and left it that way. There was no reason that we could see why the door slammed with such force. There was no breeze outside as it was foggy, and neither of us was near it. I remembered the noise from the spare room. It was as if something had seen us split up and wanted to keep us separate. I went to the spare room and closed the door. After that, we were on edge, and it felt like something was there with us.

A few nights later, we were watching a film in bed when we heard some pots rattle in the kitchen. We sat for a moment, stunned by the noise before we went to investigate. We couldn’t see anything out of place, but we sat for a bit and talked. Then, as we were in the lounge, I saw a bright white light seemingly pass through the hallway. I turned to Alex to ask her about it, but I knew that she’d seen the same thing I had without her saying anything. When we saw this, we didn’t get the oppressive feeling we’d had before, though.

As I said, we were in the middle of packing boxes ready for our move. Years earlier, I had bought some magnetic words and letters for the fridge – the kind that you can make poems and sentences with. We had taken all these off the fridge, put them in a sandwich bag and put that in a box. One day we were making food in the kitchen. We had been to and from the fridge multiple times. At one point, I went to get a drink and saw that right in the middle of the fridge door was one of the magnetic words. It was an ‘a’. I asked Alex about it, and she said she hadn’t noticed it either. We spent a while trying to work out where it had come from. It can’t have been left there, and it can’t have been dropped on the floor and somehow stuck itself back up there. It was dead centre on the top door of the fridge – we couldn’t explain it. But it felt like it was a message. That whatever this was knew Alex was here and had turned its attention to her.

On our last night in the apartment, we had packed everything up and to make things easier for moving in the morning; we had dismantled the bed. The mattress was heavy, so we dropped it on the floor, and instead of moving it to someplace different, we slept on it where it was. At some point during the night, Alex told me that she woke up to feel that the duvet was no longer covering one of her legs and something about it felt weird. She didn’t pay much attention to this, though and soon went back to sleep. It was a long day the next day, and by the time we had moved all of our belonging over to our new house, we were shattered and in need of a shower. I had mine first, and then Alex had hers. When she did, she shouted to me and told me to come and look at something. During her shower, she had noticed something on the inside of her thigh. When I looked at it, it looked like a handprint, and when I matched my hand up to it, you could see the fingers and palm prints. We had no idea how this could have happened. It was in an awkward place, and for a hand to leave that kind of bruise, it would have had to have hit it with some force. A chill went through us both. This felt like a parting gift from whatever lived with us in Apartment 42.

This ends the strange occurrences that happened to myself and others in Apartment 42. However, because of all that happened, we have since thought of contacting the current occupiers to ask if they’ve had anything like this happen. We haven’t done this so far.

For me, it’s a comfort to know that friends, family and other tenants in the same building experienced things. But it doesn’t explain what went on. And to this day, I’m still not sure what to make of it all.

What are your thoughts on my experiences?

University Nerves

Come September I’ll become a student for the first time since I was 17 as I head off to university to study creative writing.

I had my place confirmed several months back, but when this week I officially registered, it all became real; I’m actually going. Although I’m excited to go to uni and study something that I love doing, there’s still a part of me that’s very anxious about going.

I quit my job in IT back in May of 2020 as it was having an adverse effect on my mental health. After working in the industry for around 13 years, I had gotten to the point that I really didn’t want to work in IT for the rest of my life. I had started to resent it. It was a big step for me to take, as work had always been the one constant in my life, and it’s what got me through some tough times. So when it no longer helped, I felt lost.

I had no idea what I would do, but I knew that I wanted to give writing full time a try. However, there was always something in the back of my mind telling me that I’d probably end up having to go back into IT, even though I didn’t want to.

When it got to Christmas, I felt like I had to do something; otherwise, I’d spend my life feeling kind of worthless, so after discussing it with Alex, we decided that I should apply for uni.

Again, I didn’t want to do anything IT related; if possible, I wanted to do a course that would help me with my writing as I felt that I could really make a go of it. After browsing some courses online, we came across the creative writing one. After reading it, I was excited about the possibilities that it could create for me. I already loved to write, but I wanted to get better, so why shouldn’t I give the course a go.

I applied that night, but there was still a part of me that thought that I wouldn’t get in. Due to some pre-diagnosis struggles with my mental health back when I was doing my A-Levels, I didn’t get the best grades and thought this would hold me back as there would be someone better that could take my place.

I spent the next few months on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear back. Of course, I knew I would only hear after a certain date, but that didn’t stop me from checking the UCAS portal daily to see if there had been a response.

Pretty soon after the end date for applications had passed, I got an email offering me a conditional place. I didn’t know what this meant, but I already dreaded what I might have to do to get a confirmed place. Luckily, the only thing they wanted was a copy of my A-Level results and not long after I had sent this in, I had a full unconditional offer for a place. I couldn’t accept it quick enough – I’d done it.

There was still that annoying part in the back of my brain that was telling me that something would go wrong or that it had been a mistake, and they’d soon realise and rescind the offer. But they never did.

With my place confirmed, all I had to do was sit back and wait. I’d gotten my student finance sorted pretty quick, so now I just looked forward to starting.

So, here I am now, a month or so away from starting, and it’s hit me – I’m going to university. I never thought that I would ever have the chance after f!cking up my A-Levels so spectacularly and never having the confidence just to apply. This is one of the biggest things to happen to me in my life, and I still can’t believe it.

I don’t think the anxiety will leave me for a while yet. I know once I start, I’ll probably be fine; it’s just the anticipation and not knowing that kills me. It will all be new to me, and I’m never great with new things. But I want this so much that I’m willing to fight through the anxiety and my stupid brain to get where I want to go. I’m going to make the most of this opportunity that I never thought would happen.

Over the past few years, I’ve done several things that I never thought I would do, get engaged, write a book and now go to uni. Despite all the issues I still have to fight with, I feel that my life is actually going somewhere now, and I like it.

I’m going to spend the next few weeks putting together blog posts and continue work on, And Then I Killed Her, as I don’t know how much time I’ll have for these things when I start my course.

I leave you with this if there’s something that you’re thinking of doing but haven’t yet:

Ghostly Occurrences in Apartment 42: Part XII

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII


Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII


After an uneventful couple of months, things started to happen again. As always, it seemed worse in winter. Then, when November rolled around, strange things would happen daily. I would see shadows moving around the apartment, behind the shower curtain, knocking on walls and doors, rattling in the kitchen and unexplainable cold spots.

One night in late November, things started to really kick-off. The spare room, in particular, appeared to be the centre of things.

In the evening, I was having a shower when the taps at the sink came on full blast, spraying water everywhere. I turned them off and resumed my shower; after half a minute or so, something punched the shower curtain in, making me jump.

With things happening regularly, I decided to start recording in the spare room. I set up my camera on the arm of the sofa while I lay on the bed. I sat mostly in the dark, but I left the hall light on, so I had some light for the video camera.

When I was set up, I sat there for some time, asking for whatever was there and doing these things to do something for me now while I was recording.

Things seemed to go quiet, and there was a heavy feeling in the air that I couldn’t explain. It was tense and could feel something in the apartment with me. It was like someone was constantly watching me. Something trying to work out what to do.

I sat in silence for some time. Then, after around six and a half minutes, I felt a sharp pain in my side. It was as if something jabbed me hard in the side, but it also felt like an electric shock. When I looked at the area that I had felt the pain, I saw that I’d been scratched by something. Shocked, I recorded as the marks became more pronounced and blood started to rise to the surface.

Now feeling terrified, I quickly leave the room to take a look at what had just been done. The room felt off, it was a strange feeling, but I knew I had to get out.

As I looked at the scratches, I started to see more of them. The whole experience was enough to freak me out and make me feel like I could no longer film what was happening.

When I went through the video footage, I noticed several more things that the video had picked up that I hadn’t noticed at the time.

For starters, while I’m talking at the start of the video, a voice comes out of nowhere saying either “no” or “go” I wasn’t able to discern which.

A few seconds later, when I’m talking about the taps turning themselves on, I hear what sounds like the words “shut up” as well as the usual distortion of the video.

The next thing is something that will stay with me; at the point of the video where I hell out when I feel something hit me, there is a laugh. Not just any laugh, but an evil sort of chuckle. Like whatever did that to me, was really amused by it.

Finally, when I’m out of the spare room and examining the marks, I place the camera on the other side of me. What I didn’t notice at the time, is that there were two scratches on the other side of my stomach, which I didn’t feel. These also look fresh and like they are bleeding.

The entire experience of that night felt different from previous ones. This one felt like whatever this was, was getting fed up with me filming and so had to do something so that I would stop. Well, it got its wish. So after that night, no matter what happened, I never recorded anything again.

For a while, things seemed to quieten down, and I had only the odd experience.

Next week will be the final post in this series and I will talk about some of the other things that happened when other people were there and the things that happened just before (and after) we moved out.

Below are the videos discussed in this post, take a look and let me know what you think;

Well frig! (Recording 26/11/12)

A Laugh? (26/11/12)

Another Noise (26/11/12)


Nothing like starting the day off with a Monty Python reference.

I’m starting today what I’ve been dreading and putting off for a week now; rewriting what I have of my current WIP, And Then I Killed Her.
I’m only around five chapters in, but I feel like the pace is off. Things are moving way too quickly, and the tension I’m trying to build just isn’t happening. I’ve got ideas of how to fix it, but it’s just felt way too daunting to start on. But I know I have to do it sooner or later, so I figure I just have to make a start on it and see how it goes.
What I’ve written is good, and I like it a lot; it just doesn’t flow as well as I’d like. And as I’ve moved the story along a little bit quicker than I expected, I’m unsure where to go next. I’m hoping that spending some time on it over the next week or so will get me back on track.

I still want And Then I Killed Her to be my next release, so whatever I have to do to it, I will; it might just take me a little longer than I had initially thought to get it finished. But these things happen and can’t be helped. I suppose it’s all part of my chaotic writing style. Maybe if I planned things out a little more, I wouldn’t run into these issues. Maybe…

With going to university in September, I want to try and get as much done on this novel as I can before my time is taken up by uni work. Perhaps all of this will help me prepare for uni and the course to come.

Back to it now, I guess.

Before I go, though, I just want to let you know that the Kindle versions of my novels The Next Stage and Blindsighted will be available for free over on Amazon this weekend. There’s no particular reason for this; I just want to get my books out there to as many people as possible.

Have a good weekend!