I can scarcely believe it myself but the first draft of the new novel (my fourth) is completed. Weighing in at a healthy 70418 words it’s a shorter effort than my others but none the less a little corker. Plus it will probably get up to maybe 74 or 75000 by the time it’s edited etc.

I began this one on the 28^th May this year and it’s taken this long to do that many words. But it’s not been an easy time. We’ve had a lot of guests over the summer and my physical limitations have certainly gotten in the way. But today I feel elated at what I have achieved. When you consider that my first novel, the mighty Ah Boy, was published less than two years ago and that I now stand on the threshold of my fourth being out there it’s really quite marvellous.

It’s an Ingleby novel which means that whilst not a sequel to The Ghost of Lenton Wattingham, it is set in the same town (or literary universe if you prefer) as it’s predecessor. And I’m especially pleased with both the humour and the dialogue in this one. ‘Sparkling’ I think you could call it.

So what’s next. Well, I’m going to ignore the thing for maybe ten days or so and then come back and do the editing. That’ll leave me over a week to get a lot of other niggly little jobs out of the way I’ve been meaning to do. There’s a lot of promotional and research jobs that I’ve got to tend to and that’s where my focus will lie for a short while. But then I shall be taking out my red pen and editing for all I’m worth (which ain’t a lot really) and hopefully get it publication ready by the end of the month. Then I need my wonderful artistic people (Kenny and Becky) to do their magic and hey presto! Novel number 4 and the end of another writing marathon.

So, will I take a break from writing after it’s published? Maybe a very short one but then it’s back to Blessham to catch up with our old mate Joe Wilkie.

Watch this space.

In 1981 I was at the tender age of fifteen years. A somewhat reckless youth who had lost all hope in the education system and was kicking against pretty much everything except girls, fags and heavy metal. In ten short years, thanks to a combination of bullying and teachers who didn’t care, I had gone from loving school and being something of a prodigy to loathing every second of it and longing for the final exams to come and end my misery. I have my reasons and there are many of them which are perhaps best left to another time. The long and the short of it is that as the thrill of the electric eighties dawned, young Alan Stevenson yawned.

One day it was announced in school assembly, to a tremendous buzz of excitement, that the school was getting four computers in the science lab. This was 1981 remember and MS Office was still an expensive little twinkle in Bill Gates eyes. The computers the school were getting were Sinclair Spectrums which now seem almost stone age but at the time were the stuff of Star Trek to kids the likes of me. I didn’t even do science and had to actually ask where the lab was.

Once the lab was located myself and two mates (one tall, one ginger) made our way to the outside one lunchtime to view these amazing machines through the window. It was almost as if Sir Clive had delivered them himself such was the rush of adrenaline about the place and students and teachers alike who were knowledgeable in such things would gather in the lab to look and yes, dare I say it, even touch them. Such privilege wasn’t afforded to us though and so we had to stare through the window with our greasy teenage noses pressed against the glass to see these technological marvels of the twentieth century.

Our noses hadn’t been pressed for long before there was a voice behind us saying ‘What are you three up to?’ We turned quickly and saw Mr P___ standing with his hands on his hips. Mr P___ was a short, moustachioed little piss-quick of a man who taught woodwork. His eyes only came level with my chest but he clearly thought he was the staff hard man when it came to keeping kids in line. He once accused a friend of mine of smoking (who hadn’t) because, and I quote ‘I saw the smoke coming out of your ears boy!’ A neat trick if you can do it.

‘We were trying to see the new computers Sir.’ I said, cringing inwardly at having to call him Sir.

‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you Stevenson.’ He replied. ‘The likes of you will never have anything to do with computers.’

* * *

Fast forward forty years. I’m currently on my sixth PC in total, with another one waiting in the wings. I have done ECDL and passed with distinction and have taught countless others the basics of computing. I went back to that school as a 36 year old man and worked as a Learning Resource Assistant (Mr P___ had left by then) for the English Department and I’d say that 75% of my job was computer based. Add to that I have created three blogs, numerous websites and written three full length novels; ON A COMPUTER!!!

So, I think it’s safe to say that Mr P___, once again, was talking out of his scrawny arse. Computers have been a part of my life since 1991, only ten years on from that fateful day outside the science lab.

What has amazed me most in all that time is the rapid advancement of the technological revolution we find ourselves living in. If you had told that fifteen year old boy that one day he would own a telephone that he could carry around in his pocket and send texts and email from it and interact on social media and all the other wonderful things that phones can do now, he would have laughed on your face. But it’s true. The advances have been breath-taking.

About fifteen years ago I looked into the possibility of self-publishing. I had a book (not a great one but not bad) ready to go and I had been rejected by several publishers who all said the same thing – ‘we like it but it’s too short.’ It was 54000 words and I just couldn’t see how I could add another 16000 to get it to where they wanted. And so, self-publishing seemed the way forward. Back then of course, self-publishing meant finding someone to manufacture and print the damn things and then you would end up with 500 to 2000 copies of your book sat in boxes in your garage and be scratching your head wondering how on earth you were going to sell them all.

But, things have changed again. It has now become so easy (dare I say too easy) to get self-published via on demand printing through the likes of KDP, Ingram Spark and Lulu. You sign up, you upload and hey presto, you’re an author. An independent author. Not a fake, not a wannabe, not a plastic author. A real, bona-fide independent author. And that, Mr P___, is what that long-haired scruff who was eyeing up the Sinclairs has become. An independent author.

In fact, I’m writing this on a computer right now.

Changes are afoot in the village of Blessham. Well, not the village itself per Se but to the novel Ah Boy itself. So what are these changes, when will they happen and why? I’ll tell you.

Basically the changes are as follows. The size format will change from 9×6 to 8 x 5 so that it mirrors the size of my other novels which I published in that size. I think it looks better on the old bookshelf. Also, the inside format and page layout will be slightly different to the current one. And most importantly of all (drum roll please) the cover art will be changing.

Ah Boy! came out in the October of 2019 and therefore will be two years old in a couple of months. I can’t believe it, my first baby is nearly two. Where has the time gone? It’s had two baby brothers since then as well with another on the way.

So why the change? Well, a number of reasons actually. As I mentioned the size format is changing as it’s something I’ve never really been happy with. It was KDP that suggested that size because, as they said at the time, it’s the most popular. I’ve since found out it’s the most popular size in the US of A, not dear old Blighty. Ergo, I’m changing it.

Secondly, I’m a grown up and I can accept when I make mistakes and I can learn from them. And boy did I make some howlers when I published Ah Boy! You see, as an independent author I didn’t really have anyone to hold my hand and walk me through it. Oh sure, I watched a couple of YouTube videos on the subject and did some reading which just confused me even further but basically I tried to follow KDP’s instructions and as a consequence ballsed it up in places. For example: the first dozen or so books that were printed to order didn’t have page numbers on them (They are going to be valuable one day) and I didn’t even realise until a buyer pointed it out. Thankfully I hastily fixed the issue.

Then there’s the cover art. Now, I really like it and it was done by my step-daughter Becky so I’m obviously defensive over it. But some people have said it’s the one thing they don’t like about the book. Apparently you can judge a book by it’s cover after all and this one doesn’t shout ‘Ribald Comedy’ like it should. So with that in mind I’ve had a chat with Becky and a new cover will be done.

And then of course there’s the issue of typos. I’m a writer, not an editor. I’m also a struggling writer trying to get my foot firmly on the ladder and as such I have to do tasks like proofing and editing myself as opposed to hiring someone. And as an enthusiastic amateur I don’t think I do too badly really. However, as anyone who has read Ah Boy! will testify there are still a few blips and typos in there that got under the radar, e.g. the word ‘pun’ instead of ‘pub’ at one point and several others besides. So a re-release will give me time to iron those niggly little wrinkles out.

I’m excited about all this but of course, as always, I have to listen to my body and October is just an ideal date. It may be November or even December depending on how my FMS behaves between now and then but it is generally worse in the colder months. What is important to remember though is that if you want a first edition of Ah Boy! before these necessary changes come into play then you need to act soon.

I do believe in my books. Of course I do, I’m the author/father and I believe that one day they are all going to be big sellers and that the Joe Wilkie ones in particular will be made into either movies or TV series on Netflix or Amazon Prime (Hey! You’ve got to dream big) and those first editions are going to be worth a few bob. Know what I mean? Nudge nudge, wink wink!

Today is the 23^rd of June 2021 and I feel good. For a change I woke up this morning and I actually feel good. Well, as good as its gotten in a very long while. And why this sudden feeling of joyous good feeling? Well, last night I had my first session with my new CPAP machine to combat the sleep apnea and I’m pleased to say that it worked better than I could have ever imagined. I went straight through the night and didn’t turn it off until 5:30 when my bladder finally said ‘Come on now, enough is enough.’

My lovely wife Ange reports that there was no snoring. Nay, not even a single grunt and so I suppose it was good for her too. If you see what I mean. Oooh Matron! I’d been led to believe that these things were good but blimey! It’s astonishing. My head is as clear as a bell. Still a gross misshapen lump that looks like its got trapped in a door but clear inside and ready to take on whatever the day throws at it.

Of course I’m not for one moment going to start thinking that this is the end of my health problems. There’s still fibromyalgia to contend with and its early days as far as the CPAP is concerned but damn it, it’s given me cause for hope and that’ll do today.

Now, where was that fourth novel that wanted writing?

Well, I’ve been toying with the idea for absolutely ages and now it’s happened at long last. I done got myself a podcast people. Episode 1 is now online and I’m planning/hoping on making it a weekly thing. The podcast is called Blessham Hall (for obvious reasons) and over the coming weeks I’ll be talking about all of my books, my influences, my plans and also I’ll be having the odd special guest on as well. I’m really quite psyched about it.

I’m one of those people who can’t actually stand the sound of their own voice and so whenh it comes to playback time after recording I tend to sit here and cringe. However, my adorable wife, Ange, insists that I have a lovely voice, deep and comforting, and that I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I don’t know, personally, I’ve always felt I had a face for radio and a voice for silent movies but maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Because just this last week, since the podcast has been live someone else has contacted me to say how soothing they think my voice is too. Have I been hiding my light under a bushel all these years?

Where could it lead? I ask myself. Audio books, movie trailers, product placements, the world is a big fat oyster for me and my voice. But I digress. The podcast. You can here it for free here:

https://stevonet.podbean.com/e/welcome-to-blessham-hall

Please do have a listen. It’s only 8 minutes long and I’d love to hear your feedback on it.

Another one next Monday.

Here we go again!!!

Book number three is now published and is available as either a Kindle Download or a as a paperback from Amazon. Nine months in the making, which is longer than my original intention, but hey, there’s lousy health for you. So, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen I so proudly present to you… (drum roll please)…

The Pheasants Revolt.

The continuing saga of Joe Wilkie – everybody’s favourite country boy – who finds himself this time embroiled in a tangled web of local political intrigue. Well, the Frottersham council elections at any rate. Join Joe in this hilariously comic tale of riotous behaviour, angry mobs, confused affairs of the heart, desecration, an angry bull and rampaging game birds. It’s a feathery farce in which the laughs come thick and fast.

Warning: Contains high levels of toilet humour and sexual innuendo for which I make no apology.

It’s a coming!

Novel number 3 is imminent. Of course, when I say imminent I mean about three weeks away. However, everything is falling nicely into place. It’s nearly edited (half way), the cover art is coming along nicely, the back cover blurb is written (you have no idea how hard that can be) and I’m really pleased with the ‘flow’ of the book and how it reads. I won’t give the title away just yet but what I can tell you is that it’s the rollicking, trolloping, riotous sequel to the Joe Wilkie story Ah Boy! with many of the characters returning, plus a few new faces as well that you are going to love and hate in equal measure. Are you Game? Joe certainly is.

PS – A word of warning. This book comes complete with a ton of toilet humour, filthy language and sexual innuendo. But then, what else did you expect?

I’ve been on an unexpected and unplanned hiatus. I was only a mere week or so away from publishing my new novel and was feeling very excited accordingly. And then, out of the blue, I get a dose of pneumonia and end up hospitalised with tubes in (almost) every orifice and as weak as the proverbial baby cat. That was three weeks ago and fast forward to now. There has been a tremendous amount of bed rest and recuperation and that beautiful wife of mine has been quite the most perfect Florence Nightingale I could possibly wish for. I’m still weak and very breathless (as I write I’m waiting for a prescription for an inhaler) and I’ve done very little creatively in that time. It’s just been a case of getting my body back to some kind of place were I can write again.

Well, today is that day – I’ve fired up the laptop at last. Poor thing hasn’t seen the light of day for almost a month and had to be gently coaxed and soothed into working like a nervous rescued dog. It feels good though to be back at the old coal face once more. I’ve been working on the novel all morning, adding a few final amendments and then I thought I’d best churn out a quick blog post. And here we are. This afternoon I embark on the final proof read, the artwork is all done and has gone to be digitised and with a fair wind behind me I reckon I might be able to publish within a week or so. In fact, there’s a renewed, almost manic like fervour in me to get it done. Or should that be – a new mania! (Groan)

Watch this space.

‘Oh wow!’ ‘Jammy git!’ ‘Lucky bas- so and so!’

Just a few of the oft heard phrases I receive when I tell people I live on a narrowboat. And to a certain degree I lap it up. Like the times when it’s blazing sunshine and clear cobalt skies and my wife and I are in some secluded spot somewhere along the canal with a bottle of malbec sat between us and a view to die for all around. Yes! Then I am a lucky bastard.

But, fast forward a few months into December and ask me then how many lucky stars I’m counting. Ask me then about frozen water tanks and equally frozen gas bottles. Ask me then about falling on my arse trying to get off the boat in the ice and snow. Ask me then about being covered in coal dust after trying to light a fire in minus temperatures at seven in the morning as my breath comes out in sheets and my fingers go on strike due to the cold (my feet are ok because I slept with my socks on). Ask me then about emptying a plastic chemical toilet on a frosty night in a disgusting Elsan building that reeks like charnel house with the heating on full blast and no ventilation when my land living friends are casually flushing their porcelain Thomas Crappers with carefree, Toilet Duck fragranced abandon. Still think I’m so lucky? Thought not.

And that’s the boating reality folks. It ain’t all about roses and castles or Rosie and Jim (how I despise the pair of them). Cruising in the Summer is fun but just remember that Summer don’t last that long. Winter, in the UK tends to last a whole lot longer. But it’s my choice right? I made the decision to live afloat so maybe I should just shut up and stop complaining. Actually no, I’m still going to complain (it’s part of being British after all). You see, I knew what I was getting into before I got into it and despite the things that all boaters grumble about – fire, toilets, gas, water etc etc – I still love it. I mean, living in a house comes with it’s own set of particular problems. For example: I have no lawn to mow nor loft to lag nor boiler to explode and send a biblical torrent of water into the cellar (this happened to me). My life is far more simplistic and in many ways easier (except for the Elsan).

What I am finding difficult at times is writing, especially during this Covid pandemic and lockdown. Space is an issue you see. My charming and beautiful wife, Ange, works for the local council and as such now works from home and has done since March last year. For a while I worked outside, on the mooring, as she has many phone calls to make and needs privacy. That was fine during the rather good Summer we had last year. Over Winter, it’s not been so ideal and we’ve had to come up with a few counter measures so that we can both work in the cramped conditions of the boat and be productive. Firstly, we bought a folding picnic table which is big enough to allow us both the space we need to work, eat and of an evening put feet up on. Secondly we have bought a pair of industrial strength ear defenders for me to wear when Ange is making those phone calls. They muffle beautifully. Thirdly we have a veritable tagliatelle of cables criss-crossing between us to provide enough power for laptops, phones, tablets, lamps, fans and whatnot. And so far, it works.

And you thought being an author was glamorous. Nah!

For the last 17 years I have had a constant travelling companion on my journey through life. I don’t like him very much as he tends to get in the way a lot of the time and stops me from doing the things I love the most; spending quality time with my lovely wife and of course writing. What’s worse is that I’m addicted to both of those things so when my travelling companion raises his butt-ugly head for a sneer and to pull the rug from under my feet I get rather narked. His name? Fibromyalgia.

If you haven’t heard of fibromyalgia I’ll give you a quick medical lesson. It’s a common bedfellow of M.E and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome whereby it leaves you exhausted after very little exertion but it also comes with the added bonus of tremendous pain in the neck, shoulders, back, arms and legs. In addition he also brings on the most horrendous brain fog imaginable and terrible restless leg syndrome. A horrible little toe-rag he is but I’m stuck with him.

For example: I started my new novel The Ph… oops, almost gave the title away there; ahem, my new novel, on the 14^th July last year. Now considering that I want to write Monday to Friday and that my average daily word count is about 2000 words (all I can do really) then the first draft should have been finished by the end of September at the latest. And yet, here we are, into February 2021 and I’ve only just finished it. And the reason it has taken so long is my fiend Fibro (see what I did there?) keeps getting in my way and stopping me for lengthy spells.

Fibro first came into my life following a severe viral infection in 2003. Long story short; the virus nearly killed me and messed up my heart, my brain and left me with a generous dose of the aforementioned muscle condition. Over the years Fibro has varied in intensity. At times I’ve been able to hold down a job for a short while. At others I’ve been bed-ridden for days on end with little strength, no energy and in quite the most remarkable pain. He never lets up though. Even on a ‘good’ day or when I’ve been working he’s always there in the background gnawing away at me with his diamond tipped teeth.

I’ll say just one good thing for him though. He’s taught me patience and the ability to just let things go and pick them up at a later date. There was a time when I would have hated the thought of doing virtually nothing during the course of a whole day. Now, I’ve learned to be at peace, to accept my lot and look forward to tomorrow when, hopefully, he’ll go a bit easier with me. The b*****d!