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)

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

The Deed's Done


The price was agreed, and the date was arranged to collect the van from darkest, deepest South London. Our friends Ian and Sue kindly agreed to come with us. In fact they took us in their car, and Sue would drive their car back while Ian would drive the camper back - that is if we went ahead and bought the old gal.

Ian knows a thing or two about motors, and I was very grateful for his offer to check things over before we parted with the spondoolics.

We met the mechanic man, and Ian asked appropriate questions about things mechanical. His pre-arranged secret signal (a shifty thumbs-up) meant that I then spent the following twenty minutes arranging insurance. I later discovered that that premium rate number cost me over fifteen bloody quid!

But that didn't matter at the time, 'cos we were now the proud owners of a 'T'-reg campervan, with all mod cons included. Whether the mod cons worked, we'd sort out later.

For now the only task in hand was to get her home.

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