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, 10 December 2010
Oh no. It's a Disaaaster!
I couldn't get on to the Boat For My Potplants. The structure upon which the planks rested had been pulled clear out of the mud by the nose of the boat at high tide.
Luckily, a very helpful man by the name of Mark knew exactly what to do. In an instant he shimmied down the plank into the mud and attached a rope to the timber structure, climbed back up the plank and attached the other end of the rope to his car tow-bar. Slowly but surely he pulled the the frame clear of the mud.
He must have worked in a circus in a previous life. I don't know how he managed, but somehow he repositioned the posts in the mud, then precariously stood on top of one of them while he whacked in the other with a sledge-hammer.
To top it all it was by now dark, and the boards were damp and slippery, but that didn't seem to bother him.
It seemed like a disaaaster to me at first, but then I realised that here in Wivenhoe people help each other out. Especially when you have a Boat For Your Potplants down at the quay outside the pub.
Posted by Neil Watson at 20:19