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)

Saturday, 4 June 2011

Cheers Alfie!

Luckily, I'm an early riser, and recently it's been glorious at seven or eight in the morning, being on the boat with no sounds except only for some sea-gulls squeeeee-wawk-wawk-wawking - and my paint-brush painting.

For these first couple of hours even I can be impressed with my own productivity.

In Wivenhoe, we are lucky enough to have our very own barbers, run by the amiable Alfie. As well as being at the cutting edge of his profession, he's also damn fine behind a lens and doesn't miss a trick.

I become thirsty and decide to pop round the corner to get a Coke, and as I go past Alfie's I tell him how much painting I've got to do on the boat today, and I rush back, eager to get on.

But then as the morning develops, so do the number of people around the quay. It would be rude of me not to pause from the task in hand and natter to a few.

It's only a matter of time before there are rumblings in my tummy, and I may as well stop for a while, have some lunch on the rear deck and soak up some rays. I invite Pete, one of my nautical neighbours, over to join me. We sit and eat and chat, and chat some more, as the tide gently comes in.

After an hour or so I get up. 'Right, Pete. I've got to get on now. I've got a lot of painting to do'

Pete returns to the jobs on his boat and I pick up my paint-brush one more time.

Then my phone goes. It's 'Erindoors. 'I'm coming over to join you while you're working'. 'No, no, no'. I protest. 'I've got to get on with this painting.'

I obviously didn't protest strongly enough, and she arrives a few minutes later, and asks me if I'd like a Guinness.

'I'll just have the one then. But only one. I've got to get on with this painting'

And then Alfie the Barber walks by and catches me 'at work'. I finally give in in to the powers of the black stuff and put away my brushes.

There's always maƱana. That's what it's all about here. Cheers, Alfie.

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