17 th June.

17/06/2007 19:54
After an Englishman had moved to Dublin, he needed to do some D.I.Y. in his new home.
He went driving, looking for a suitable store for materials, but was unsuccessful.
He stopped and asked a local man,
“Is there a B+ Q in Dublin?”
The Irishman took the time to consider the question, and replied,
“NO,”
“But there is two D’s in Dundalk.”
Belief is a choice.
It is far easier for people to believe that they are victims, because then it isn’t their fault if their life isn’t what they want it to be.

When you are in “flow” you are passionate about something.
You don’t ask whether or not you are sure of success.
You simply try to get there.
This is both not deluded and often successful.
You size up a potential goal and see it as merely possible.
At that point you explore to see if you can get there. If someone asks whether you will succeed you simply answer,
“We’re going to find out.
And have a good time doing so.”

Recommend Query format.
First paragraph is a sentence about why this agent is a good pick for you
if applicable, word count, hook, title and genre. The next paragraph should be your blurb.
Imagine what would go on the back cover of the novel in paperback form.
This should be intriguing and jazzy, summing up the conflict in your story. It should also be less than 200 words.The next paragraph should be about you and your writing credentials.
If you don't have any, keep it lean.
Don't write about your four kids and your stuffed marmoset collection. The final paragraph should close and thank the agent for his time.
Use his or her name again, at this point, and spell it correctly. That's it.
Using that formula and writing well, should guarantee you'll get some requests for partials.

The above is some pointers I picked up from an Agent’s site I was reading till the early hours of the morning.
I had stopped up yesterday till 1.30 a.m. took Zyprexa and awoke this morning at 10.20,
Quick piss and back to bed till woken up by alarm call from Father.

Cuppa, rollie, shave and went to parents for Sunday lunch, followed by 40 minutes of bliss, relaxing in a hot bath.

Returning home, I resisted the temptation to go to the club,
Got myself a can from the fridge and scored a £10.00 worth of gear to see me through the remainder of the day.

I had spent quite a long time last night, reading the Agent’s site, the comments and glancing through many of her archived subjects.




I recently added a tracker to my Blog.
Needless to say, it has proven to me what I already expected.
Very few people are stumbling across the site and even less taking the time to read any of it.

Did I ever expect anything else?
In the beginning perhaps no,
But as the project progressed I began to dismiss the idea of dismantling it, later, possibly trying to use the material to put together a book,

I then tried to inject my personality into the piece and provide a possible reward to anyone who has actually tried to read it in full.
I began to think of the possibility of a reader being present in the equation.
So I concentrated on providing a daily post,
Improving my typing skills, practising copy writing, whilst waiting for a style of writing to manifest itself.
One I could feel easy with, lacking of most of the restraints of accepted book genres.

The pages describe my daily life,
sometimes in depth and at other times, merely in passing.
My apparent failure to give up Alcohol, Cigarettes, and Cannabis is fully logged.
Each failure marked by the description of the waking hours,
(As distinct from daylight hours.)
My attempts to live frugally save money for times when mobility and frame of mind are in better favour.
My writing is such that it seeks not to offend or give instruction to anyone.
An often erratic tenuous thread leads the reader on a seemingly haphazard, ill planned safari of my mind.
It is very much Billy Connelly ish.
It is a guy thinking while typing, nothing more, nothing less.

My thoughts, my views, my fears both real and imagined.
My mental and physical breakdown is chronicled as being the starting point to my life changing decision to adopt a policy of,
“Less is more.”
As are the events leading up to and surrounding the episode,

(As manic-depressive, Cannabis fuelled psychotic incidents are now called.)

There are references to religion in this work, several in fact, all treated with respect.
Although my experiences of frightening Jehovah’s Witnesses away by answering the door with a six-foot Python around my neck, may give others, ideas.

I do not advocate the above, neither do I preach about the use of Cannabis as a no brainer alternative to the socially accepted Alcohol.
A lot of the work however is written while I’m stoned.

Again I wouldn’t suggest the reader has to be in a similar condition to read it.
But I would suggest it needs an accompaniment of sounds and for that,
777 Radio will provide, the meditation, Lounge, Chill out vibes.
I apologise,
But I do have commitments to some advertising contracts.

I enjoy a good belch after a mouthful of lager and decided its time for number two to come out of the hanger.
I skin I spark.2
See apparently if your site isn’t all singing and dancing with extra features is doesn’t climb high in the ranking and thus receives few visits.
You are then told to go out and find similar sites, dropping your site address into any convenient comment box and create links.
Take articles from Newspapers and expand, cut and paste articles and links, provide feeds, and exhibit photos and video.

I have in fact had a very open letter which told me my site was shite and that I should stick my Hindu beliefs up my fucking arse.
I repeat I mention religion several times,
And each is mentioned by its merit, its apparent aptness for the time and place.
I am by no means religious and hold no more respect for the Lord’s day than any other.
I believe religion touches us in its own particular way, be that listening to a Muslim sing out his prayers, read the sayings of the Hindu masters or listening to an unknown tongue singing gloriously whilst living rough next to a church.
I had a totally mind blowing, telepathic meeting of minds with the,
Pope no less.
And that was in the middle of a particularly heavy long session.
My head hurting from the effort of containing this globe of extremely bright light which had taken up residency for the duration of the exchange.
He spoke, I listened!

Couldn’t understand a fucking word of it,
I’m thinking, fucking great, people can’t get within of a mile of this guy,
And here he is, speaking to me in fucking Latin.
Despite not understanding the voice, (I saw no face.)
I could feel the weight of the words and feel the sincerity of it all.
It ended abruptly and I sat blinking, trying to erase the negative image of the light which now showed on the walls as I stared,
Mouth open, wide open, eyes large and round in disbelief.
I sat, staring at the wall,
“I’ve just had n audience with the Pope!”,
Those words went round and round in my head.

“Fucking hell, that was neat”,
I thought to myself and reached for the skins and dope.
As I raised the bag of grass to my nose to take an appreciation of its odour,
As one would do with any fine whisky no doubt.
It was then a smile crossed my lips, grew into a wide grin,
I looked at the packet of grass,
And thought, “yes, ya bitch”,
Fucking good name, “White widow”.

So kids in you want to steer clear of any such side effects,
And keep clear of annoying interruptions like an audience with the pope,
Unannounced.
Steer clear of the white widow when she is at the height of her power.
Or at least treat her with respect.

Honestly that gear,
Good grade, unadulterated,
Ideally farmed using organic principles and guaranteed to have been lovingly cared for during its short growing life,
Not locked in a shed with a few Vietnamese.
Like his style,
Is it that easy to pick up the refugees and turn them into slaves by threatening to expose them?

Now thinking to the future and anything I could do to lessen the burden I’ve become on the state.
An opportunity for employment for the disabled if ever I saw one.
Who would be better at travelling up and down narrow aisles between plants?
A guy in a wheelchair.
Never mind the refugees, two in wheel chairs will do the job much better.

Dream job eh,
Tending to the needs of the leaf.
You get a shock when you see a combine harvester waiting to cut the crop!
Now I’m not a political animal but I sense the farmers are getting a bit pissed of with all this EU farming policies, and cutting and changing parameters for grants etc.
Get it under hemp, tell its for making Charlie band.

Anyone not know what Charley band is, or heard of Charlie Tanner?
Just asking.

Yes the old white widow has a bit of a punch.
Two or three times it literally floored me, I was standing, then I collapsed like a tower block.
Definitely best appreciated on its own with an iced fruit drink,
Not to be taken before, during of after consuming alcohol.

I tell you, being floored, lying there sweating profusely, heart beating ten to the dozen thinking is this going to a heart attack job again.
You try to move but no part of your body is co-operating in the least.
Your head slides into the most comfortable position it can.
And you wait.

The heart is pumping and you see the red veins bulge and contract before your eyes on the inside of your eyeballs.
The vein in your neck, behind the ear is absolutely pounding your pulse out on a painful drum.
You are hot, the sweat runs into your eyes,
You are cold and shivers run up and down your spine,
These shivers become electric shocks and you wince as some are more pronounced than others.
Fuck me!
You think to yourself,
Your power of speech reduced to uttering pathetic ah! sounds.

You then of course take control.
Listen to the drum of the pulse and concentrate upon slowing it down, taking deep breaths whilst doing so.
And wait.
And while you wait your mind occupies itself with supplying audio and video playback of your meeting with the spine specialist.
According to him I should have been paralysed years ago.

His words come back to you,
His warning to take things easy or lose years off the first alternative guesstimate.
Fuck all I can do, it will happen, I’m sorry.
Those words take command.
I wait,
As I have done so many times before.

I make light of the situation by asking my friend to turn the TV over,
If was destined to lie here, I may as well watch something decent.
She replied by saying,
You do it you’re nearer.
I laugh at the ludicrously of the request.
I have no feeling in my body; only the head is able to move.

“You will be paralysed either from the waist or from the neck,”
That’s what he told me and that’s what I was remembering while laid there.
Waiting.

I settled and watched the TV and thought is this it?
Destined to be wheeled out every morning to sit and watch TV.
I thought of the pact I’d made with a couple of people(insurance),
regarding my chosen way of suicide if the worst came to the worst.
Would they really go through with it and use an empty syringe on me?

Have I cleaned the syringes?
I asked myself and remembered there were some new piercing needles and plenty of large syringes, normally used to fill the ink cartridges.
I tried to speak but my head was too heavy, I couldn’t form my words.
I laughed inside at my own predicament.

Just glad it didn’t happen outside.

See folks if you are going to use decent drugs, respect their power, and use them in a suitable ambient environment ,
Then its wise to stay at home.

I start to think of the scenarios arising from the consequence of this having happened outside,
Near, traffic, over a table of drinks, perhaps.

Eventually feeling returns and my neck relaxes, sensation surges to all parts, I flex different muscle groups, move limbs and make sure everything is working.
Then I realise my legs are still dead.
I wait,

Of course my mind has progressed to the life in a wheelchair train of thought.
I try to make light by thinking of turbo charged wheel chairs, air horns, and Bluetooth C.B. system to shout at the masses to get out of the fucking way.
Cripple coming through!

At least now I can move the upper body and I adopt a more comfortable position while being tormented by the over active mind trying to cope with the situation.
Its not knowing that fucks you up!
Is it another heart attack?
Is it the big paralysis?
Or is it the skunk?

I have to believe it is the skunk.
Simply have to.

The alternative frightened me so much.
I would lay there until someone,
Came, picked me off the floor and moved me wherever they fucking wished.

To become a head on a pillow in a bed which would become such a huge part of your life.
Even more than it occupies now and that is a lot.

Try not to do anything or make a move to antagonise it.
What exactly does that entail?
Taking it easy and looking out for it all the time.
He explained.

The quack.
Keep up!

Eventually the legs begin to tingle and slowly all is well again, I rise, take a few minutes to recover and enjoy the feeling of sheer relief which floods through every vein in my body making my skin tingle with the sensation.

The only other two people who were selected to share some with me.
(I am a tight arse old Hector when it comes to giving good gear away!)
Both enjoyed it very much and agreed the pollen may have something to do with it.
And both elected to take cabs home.
Usually wisest option after visiting me.

One was my computer Guru, a college student studying complicated Physics,
I have mentioned him before; he guided me through all the different changes we made to the computer and the set up.
He installed whatever I wanted into a later purpose built machine.
He enjoyed, a smoke, a listen to the sounds, occasional glass of whisky or rarer a drink of home made brown ale/barley wine.

I would be sat there equally stoned or pissed, notebook in hand asking him to explain the various items of interest which had caused me confusion.
He told me what things did and often as not what was stopping me from making it do this!
That was the way I progressed, went in every direction possible, exploring all avenues.
W e would be there on hands and knees,
No, not stoned,
We would have cables round necks and in between teeth as we made even more changes to the yards and fucking yards of cables and wires,
All power being supplied from two double wall sockets.
One being occupied by fridge/beer cooler and freezer.

Here’s a fucking great tip for you.
You’re sat in you office and the old neck is giving some gip.
Put one of those huge plastic, fucking plastic again!
Lemonade bottles in the ?
Can’t remember if fridge or freezer works best.
Chill it down,
Can’t remember if full or part empty,
Either way if you fancy a cold drink leave something in,
Put it behind your neck and press backwards in your leather office chair and chill for a while.
Or until it gets too cold.
So must have been freezer, I tried it in!

This guy was as cute and likeable as a box of monkeys.
He knew how to get into almost anything and he demonstrated his methods with skill.
I couldn’t pay his hourly rate,
Fuck me, see how much they charge?
But in return for booze and dope we would have sessions beginning around 7 and lasting till the early hours of the morning.

It was like going on holiday with someone,
Who has been there before.
No honestly, stick with me.

He could direct me to where I wanted to go and stop me from taking detours because he had been down that route and knew what to expect.
Thus, I covered less sites and learnt a hell of a lot in a short time.

At about the time I was heavily studying security with regards to computer use.
He informed that he had taken some of my enquiries to his head of department for advice.
I was apparently talking about things he had no knowledge of and therefore wasn’t able to advise me further.
He actually thought I was “Losing it” for a while,
Until his head had told him my ideas were based on sound judgment.

He was interested in Archaeology and would try and teach me a little each time,
Dropping subtle hints like “seeing as you have the car wouldn’t mind a lift to the moors sometime. Show you examples of what I’m talking about.

Knowing the chances of getting me away from the computer were next to nil and falling.

The advice given last night was visit similar sites.
I tried and did, and my eyes were open to the obvious dissimilarities.

Yes, the old white widow can be a bitch at times.
Other times she will hover over you radiating calm and contentment, infusing a sense of well being into your aching body.

Apparently the agents ask for a few pages to have an initial look.
Fuck! Which pages would you choose?
I’ve got no idea what’s even on each page.

If the pages pass scrutiny then a larger example is asked for and if accepted they become your agent and oversee all publishing deals and generally look after your interests by scrutinising every section of each contract.
They come to agreement with the acceptance and publishing fees, and negotiate important time related clauses.
They also act against piracy, which sadly exists.
They also self regulate; scammers are actively sought out and indeed punished.

They are simple human beings, like you or me who have an eye for a good thing,
They understand what is wanted and what has missed the boat or indeed is ahead of its chosen time to be popular with the masses.
No doubt they put the same amount of energy into your prepublish publicity and guide you through the necessary public appearances etc.
For that I’m sure would be enough for most grateful would be authors.

But no they go further and foster a personal interest in your future.
Dropping your name into the right ears when present at one of the many Literary based occasions she attends.
Lunches, nice bottle of wine and discuss your future prospects with representatives.
Possible assist in the extremely long transition period of getting written word onto the big screen.
In return, all she asks is that you put some thought into the letter when making a query; demonstrate to her your skill, If skill you think you have but are too frightened to ask.

She will then either answer Yes or No.
Who knows?
One day it could be your name slipping out of her lips as she tells of someone she once rejected, may be of use, to her dining companion and his firm.
I read the comments from many different would be authors mixed in with the ones who have made it to print and they were lapping up every word of this woman’s blog.
I pause to try and find it; will not be easy!

Kristin’s blog,
At Nelson literary institute.

All in all a useful ally out there in the world of rip off merchants.
I would describe my work as being similar in content to what you have just read.


Do you seem to recall growing up and thinking I’d like to do that.
But only rarely think, it must be great to get paid for doing that!

That I presume is the reward.
Must be great when someone comes along and tells you that with a little work they can cut you a deal.
I remember buying a very slim copy of a fake hide bound book, called
The Glory Of Stalingrad and other poems.
Was a beautifully crafted little book, very few pages, eighth of an inch thick?
I remember thinking I bet that author was proud when they saw that for the first time.
I got it because I liked the parchment outer.
I later came to like some of the contents, but only after many repeat readings.

Visit forums and drop links, save comments,
Do any one of a thousand different things to get your site noticed.

Or stagnate into putrification and get absorbed by the inner being of the web.
Sounds nasty!

Well the old lord’s day has passed nicely without too much fuss.
I rise, slowly approach the toilet, carefull not to startle it with any sudden appearances.

Have an upright stoners’ piss, think about adult diapers as I flick it dry and wipe the drops from my hands onto the front of the jeans.
Walk out, scratch my arse, and enter the kitchen, picking up a can of lager I opted for the excess baggage allowed rule of play, and duly left the plastic, ring on the work surface; not wanting to add to the pile of rubbish which has taken up residence on the right hand side of the recliner.

I really can be a right slob of an Old Hector when circumstances allow.
Who would live like this never mind choose to work among it?
I presume most writer’s must work in similar circumstances, because how else could you?
Produce anything.

I still cannot put myself into the mind of say, a fantasy writer,
If he enjoys writing and has a mind capable of coming up with such obscure plots
Of imagination then he must have a hell of a time.
No. shit I couldn’t have thoughts for a fantasy book going round my head all day till silenced by being written down.
Drive yourself crackers.
Apparently vampire related projects are popular,
Getting a bit, old hat but still popular.

564 pages and counting.

I spent 16 hours on the computer yesterday, writing and taking the opportunity to read as many blogs as possible.
I’ve already mentioned the one which held my attention for such a long time,
Whilst providing a lot of information,
But I chose to read many of the titles which took my fancy as they passed, ticker tape style before me.

Did a shit load of reading, one site was by a law enforcement officer who tracked criminals down and visited them in prison after sentencing.
He had such a variety of people he met in everyday service that he said he was spoilt for material.
Very easy to read.
I followed up the sites for Blogger awards and looked at some of the winners.

There’s a distinct chill in the air and the night draws in as I decide enough.