Writing in the Cold – What am I working on?

I hope you are having a great season. It’s cold and wet here. I’m enjoying a regular writing schedule again after some time away from it. After all, what is being a writer if not writing!

Well the projects I was working on, namely Beach Town: Survivors [Part II] have ended up being a little longer than expected and I’m not finished yet. Yesterday I took the decision to kill off a few characters in rapid succession – quite a distress I must say. Given the story a novel would have been a possibility. It’s got a focus on two groups this time, both surviving through the day with various consequences. We can see from the fact that it’s the end of the world that it has turned people both crazy and stupid. Maybe that’s what it’s about, just people and the struggles they go through.

All that blood and guts doesn’t end there though. I hoped to release it before the end of the year but it’s quite likely to be in the new year when I release it. As always your support of the work is greatly appreciated in the form of downloading and reviewing on release. I have to finish the story and then edit. Apologies for taking longer than expected. It’s still planned to be a mini series, with Part III estimated now for a spring release.

I already have a new year goal to finish some of my work in progress novels. I’ll tell you why – because then I’ll have more stories to share with you. It’s not that they aren’t stories I believe in that has caused me not to finish, it’s simply me switching to different things and taking time from writing them. Also, I don’t publish everything, so when I have something that I want to publish I take a very different approach to it; more detailed writing and editing, more feedback, more cuts and edits etc.

Talk about writers procrastinating.

So many people want to write and following a brief post I made yesterday I believe anyone who writes a story to be a writer. Published or self published or not, you write a story you are a writer. I don’t like seeing people online getting discouraged because they share their story to find people call them aspiring writers. Sure the title of author is a little different, and published author makes you think of the big cats raking in millions. IN general though, you are a writer even if you finish just one story. Keep at it.

There’s a wide range of resources available online. The following link provides a general guide to actually starting a story:


This link provides tips to actually writing a novel, a bigger more in depth task than a shorter story:


Thanks for reading this short post!

You can navigate to my author page from this link too where you can find my other books.

Decision Time

The time has come

the here and the now

it's time to make a choice

to stand tall or to fall

to begin to regret or embrace it all

now is the time for change

now is the time to let go

of all that you desire

that can't pass through the fire

that wouldn't look good to the King of Tyre

now feel those waves

passing slowly overhead

and breathe deeply

but don't forget those weeply souls

those who never got old

because I have to give

but a mere penance of life

that vanishes in the blink of an eye.


A field of likes,
superficial dopaminic rushes,
catching each blow brushed against your weakened ego,
a like is a thousand kisses, blank, black.

A lifetime of not feeling, seeking never ending reassurances,
but the feeling, a feeling so slim, so fleeting,
is all you are ever needing,
for those feelings, 
lie in the valley of deception,
your tiger eyes,

Do you need each brief hug or embrace,
a brief encounter with your fate,
like icicles in the sky,
every teardrop a dying cry,
can darken the skies,
or enlighten those turning times.


Stems from the soil,
the hands had pressed solidly,
sprouted from time immemorial,
to lands long forgotten,
a surging current,
snaking around your mind,
a creative daze,
you could always find.

Art cometh the hour,
and hand to paper,
a story from  dust,
to dust thee shall return,
to the pit of writers despair it shall return.


When you stare down the blank cannon of confusement,
look blankly into the eyes of unknown and unforgiving pain,
shake at the sight of otherworldly emotions,
never losing faith.

Cornered into the pit of others despair,
feared for all you have undone,
cast outside for burning love so full.
of the wind and the trees,
and one last breath,
breathing lament into the sight of your faith.

A blackened mirror,
your sphere of negativity,
blasting onto others,
do unto them, as they do to nobody,
change step by step,
don't be afraid of faith,
or fearful of transparency.

Sometimes an open book,
can be read with eyes closed,
just as an open heart,
always beats in the dark,
the darkest of places,
finding faith.

And if you are ready,
your transparent soul wished to heaven.