My latest book, which is currently up to 11,000 words (44 pages), is coming along nicely, but I can't tell you anything about it, because I have to keep it a secret until HarperCollins have read it. If they tell me to shove it up my jacksy, then I'll let you know what it's about (I can tell you it features a serial killer.)
On the subject of serial killers, I have a book at the moment entitled Without Conscience, The Disturbing World Of The Psychopaths Among Us, by Robert D Hare, Phd. Which is quite scientific but gives an excellent insight into behavioural patterns of the aforementioned.
The Facebook Killer series is still selling well, with over 2,000 sales in the past fortnight (Amazon & Apple) FBK3 is still not available for Apple readers because Smashwords informed me that chapters 22 and 38 did not have a Cnox. What the hell they mean by that, I don't know, but someone is on the case and I hope when FBK3 is eventually published it will rocket up to the number one spot. When I first self-published, I thought a book would have a lifespan of maybe two - three months, especially if it was selling well, and especially in the UK where the official number of ebook readers stands at 415. But I'm pleasantly surprised to see FBK1 is back in the Apple top 100 today, after eight months. Anyway, that's the trumpet full of saliva, so I'll put it down.
For me, today is a day to celebrate. Did I buy a new Ferrari? Another beachfront house? No. Nothing like that. Today I connected to an ADSL landline. Having spent years connecting to the internet via satellite, and spending embarrassing amounts of money in the process, I can now unashamedly enable pictures and not worry about a £20 top up only lasting an hour. I feel like a blind man who has been given the gift of sight, a deaf man who has received an iPod implant. To quote the famous song, I can see clearly now the white box with the little red cross in it has gone. I'm in picture heaven. I can Youtube to my heart's content, I can see how beautiful my Twitter followers really are and, more importantly, I now know what David Cameron looks like.
Which leads me on to a point. I will, one day in the future, embark on writing a book in the old style. It will be done without the use of any electronic apparatus. I'll research the story via libraries, telephone calls made from public phone boxes, and handwritten letters. The final book will be written on a typewriter, and published in 2042. It will be priced at five shillings and available exclusively from Woolworths.
As my diehard followers know, this blog began as an experiment for self-promotion. Little of which, if any, I have done lately, preferring to get on with writing books. When I published my first book, "The Sunday Club", ten months ago, I was part of a gaggle quacking on about our new releases. I've noticed since then most of those geese are still going on about the same book, whereas I've managed to write a further four since then [ML Stewart picks up trumpet]. Don't worry, it's still sopping wet. My point is, we can waste our time banging on about our books, or we can write a new one.
I've wasted enough of your time. I must finish this synopsis. Time's running out.
Thank you my friends.
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