A Boat For My Potplants

My nautical project took me to glorious places, metaphorically speaking. There were parties on board. There was The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station. Of course there were plants. And one day even a gorilla.
The boat also became my 'Writer's Retreat'. I decided to become an author, writing my debut novel aboard the boat. The book, called MUDDY WATER, was naturally set in Wivenhoe. Amazingly, several local people paid good money to have their names appearing in the book, and a lot of cash was raised for worthy charities - the RNLI, MIND, The Samaritans, and The Royal British Legion.
Now, my next multi-singular selling novel, FLORIDA KEY, is in 'production', due for publication in October 2017.
I'm sure to be visiting writers' block along the way, as well as euphoria, self-doubt and inspiration.
See how my book goes through all the stages - from initial concept to final print. I'll take you with me on my personal journey as I work on the words, on the cover, on the marketing, and on the publishing.
Maybe it will inspire you too to have a go at bringing out THE BOOK IN YOU. Everyone has a story in them, just waiting to be told, and after all, if I can do it, anyone can.
(Click on the tabs below to see more about the Writer's Retreat In France, the old Boat For My Potplants, Tallulah the Motorhome, Alfonso the Car, and Jane the Woman. And to find out more about MUDDY WATER the novel, click the cover to be transported to its Facebook page)

Friday, 18 June 2010

As Big A Plonker As Rodney

What a plonker I am! For hours today I have been repairing, re-making and renovating the windscreen for the Boat For My Potplants.

It had all come apart before the boat even got as far as Alresford Creek, so when it arrived I was faced with four sections of rotten-framed window. In fact five sections, since one of them had become two.

I hadn't a clue about which one went where, so I put on my thinking cap - and thought hard. Obviously I didn't think hard enough, for it was only when I stood back to admire my handy-work that I realised something wasn't quite tickety-boo.

There was a gap where a gap shouldn't have been. I tried to decrease the gap by screwing the screw tighter. The wood went snap. I said a naughty word out loud. Then I saw the light (through the gap), and noticed something odd with the angles. Why were they obtuse, when they should have been acute? (I now know that my O'level maths lessons would eventually come in handy one day).

I only got my port and starboard back to front, didn't I?

Watson, you absolute plonker.

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