One of the last stories I am writing has been released on Amazonand Draft2Digital. I doubt I will be writing after this month as last year was so hard on me for sales of my e-books; I didn’t earn even $1 a month, and I haven’t had a payment from Draft2Digital for sales since March.
Cuddles and Clyde were sitting in the front room of their house, enjoying a coffee laced with whiskey, when Cuddles turned to his friend and said, “Do you recall the first Christmas Mass we went to?” Clyde smiled and replied, “Remember? How could I forget that wonderful evening? The service turned my life around, at the time I was living on the street and drinking a bottle or two a day; I would not have lasted out that year before we came into my life, and showed me there is hope. There was a feeling of warmth at the service that I’d never experienced before; people who I didn’t know were willing to talk to me, a worthless drunk living on the street as if I was an old friend. I had to admit at the time; I was a hardened critic of religion, life had kicked me down so often, all I wanted to see the end of my days. To say that night changed my life is an understatement beyond measure.” “I saw an excellent bear in pain, Clyde, you had been a friend to many, but few were there for you when you needed a friend, and you turned to the only thing you thought you could rely on, the bottle. I could see you were trying to deaden the pain of loss, and failing; I didn’t know what the pain was, but I felt I could at least try to help ease it for you by showing that someone cared for you. I am pleased that my act of kindness helped you see the light of day and changed your life to the good; the news on the street is you have a new story coming out next year.”
For various reasons most people have a favourite Christmas carol, mine is Silent Night.
The reason I chose this above “In the Bleak Midwinter” is because my grandfather fought in the trenches during World War 1 and this tune reminds me of the day the fighting stopped.
The book on show is a short story I wrote in honour of the men and women whose lives got altered beyond measure after those four horrible years.
To any grandchildren out there, appreciate your grandparents and learn from their wisdom; I never knew mine as my grandmother died when I was only three, and a few years later we moved away from our family in Yorkshire when my father got a job in Bristol.
The next news I had of my grandfather was that he died when I was 16, as I was at college at the time I was unable to say my goodbye to a man I admired, even if I didn’t have the opportunity to know him.
Six years ago, I was offered the opportunity to have a writing contract by a publisher in Miami; I turned the offer down, after weeks of second-guessing my decision I was still questioning what I did because at the time I was concerned that writing porn stories would damage my rep as a writer.
Now, at the end of my time, I think I should have accepted the offer even if the idea of writing for a publisher with few limits turned my stomach at the time. In the end, they were the only publishers who offered me a genuine chance to get published, what does that say about my writing?