I’m writing the book I was always destined to write. Of all the writing journeys we take, they can normally be linked back to a pinnacle moment in time. Many of us hold the memory of it close and dear, we’re protective of it, for some of us it has grown alongside our own personal growth much like our dreams. It feels far away from now and it could be that manuscript sitting in a drawer, or a file unopened for years on an old computer. It may not have ever graced the writing process and sits forgotten whilst we have moved on. What if that story stayed in the back of my mind since this whole deal began? What if I never forgot what it did to inspire my writing efforts. What if everything I did in writing was for that story inside me?
So what good is it just sitting forgotten when really it’s the purpose of all of this. We cannot take our dreams with us, so why the hell should it sit gathering dust on the mind?
This blog and my writing is the most successful it has ever been right now. If I could ever define my efforts as a writer it would be one of a chancer who takes the risk from opportunity that is sometimes presented by circumstance. Holy shit that sounds technical but I know what I am, I always have. Slowly people are taking that on with appreciation, and I very much admire the efforts people make to tell the world about my work, I am thankful also.
I started this whole deal when I was twelve years old on a rainy Sunday afternoon facing a windows 98 computer. It was an escape and that was when I typed the initial words about a character named Jack Thorn who fought against robots in the future. The story and premise grew up with me and took on many incarnations from a handwritten Tesco value notepad to a fully typed up first attempted draft of 40,000 words when I was fifteen and should have been studying. 40k aint bad considering it was attempt numero uno.
Still this story and those within it stayed alive in my mind. Even back then I vividly remember sighing and looking at the keyboard whilst muttering “What the hell have I got myself into? Writing books is hard…”. Even when life took center stage I was reading, Crichton, King and Conan Doyle who were residing on my growing shelf.
I moved house, jobs, had tough times and good. Witnessed great successes and losses, I lived until the dream of writing fully gripped me. Still that story stuck out, even when I started again with a character named Clark Thorn, I learned to write by figuring out his journey. Those first few years (2012-2015) I was writing 4 hours a night. You have to find the ability to write within, it cannot be taught, anyone who says that is a bullshit merchant no matter how subjective. I found my voice during those years, my starry eyed belief thought a literary agent would pluck me from the slush pile and I would be on Graham Norton in two years time. Pipe dreams are nice, but they are not reality. I’ve only ever got anywhere by rolling up my sleeves to prove that I can write, I know I can and so do my audience.
It’s going to take a lot of work to convert an old time action story to today’s audience, there will need to be a balance, but Jack Thorn is home to me, it always will be, and his story will reside in serial form on this blog from next month. It’s a story of humanity intertwined with the destiny of those who look to defend it. This is the book I have always aspired to write, and write it I will!
In the future there will be robots…
(Jack Thorn will premiere on Thursday Evenings from March and will be serialized through this blog. Next year I shall be querying agents with my story of the future. Do not fear though, I have at least 3 other writing projects currently in development for I am the writing machine! And I’m still reading and reviewing indie stuff)