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)

Thursday, 1 July 2010

Why Didn't I Think Of That?

Top Bloke of Wivenhoe, Martyn Carrick, was chatting to me the other day and said that he thought I was doing it all wrong, when he asked me how I was planning to get the boat from Alresford to Wivenhoe on July 18th.

'I'm going to be towed by my brother-in-law's's speedboat, my step-dad's motorboat, or Paul's sailing boat, or perhaps all three', I said.

'Pah', said Martyn. 'You should bring The Boat For My Potplants under its own steam'.

'But I only have a 4hp motor', I explained.

'Then we should borrow a larger one', retorted Martyn.

I was slightly taken aback. I was in my comfort zone of thinking that by being towed it was all down to someone else. Martyn brought me out of that comfort zone, by making me realise that, yes, actually, he's damned-well right. Now why didn't I think of that?

The Boat For My Potplants is worthy of more than being simply towed. After all this hard work, it bloody well ought to make it to Wivenhoe on its own.

On Saturday I went out on a boat to get some practice for all this mullarky. And now, I've got to find a motor...

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