I started all this in September 2018.

 

 

Claustrophobia, leg ache and searching these walls for secrets held to release a story.

I scrolled through photos captured on a Samsung. June 2020. A picture of my manuscript, bound and delicately placed on a kitchen counter, spotlights designed to illuminate the sifting of strong bread flour took on the creative direction of providing adequate glow to my work of fiction. As I examined the photo, I was filled with pride. It soon tickled my disappointment to think that it’s taken me this long. A year after, June 2021 is now what I considered to be a finished article. It took a further year of editing, formatting, proofing, reading, dancing with creativity and grappling with despondency to get this finally done.

To me it’s complete.

I’ve got my ‘microphone drop’ date. I’ve gone with the fourth of July. It’s fitting for Flagpole. Set on the fictitious children’s summer camp Red Oak and Silver Wood, beautifully within the New York hills. The central character Dylan Nemerov travels to camp under the ‘Sleepaway America’ program. He gets lost in his idiosyncrasies and all his obsessions. In a camp full of so many, he never felt so alone.

If you read that in a deep, whiskey soaked, and cigarette charred movie voice. It sounds so much better. You’ve got to think of catchy sentences. Paragraphs that articulate the narrative. That thing of an elevator pitch. Draw the reader in. Spit the riff raff out. Separate the wheat from the idiom and move on to one that will sell.

It’s scary to think this as a business. I can only ever picture Tony Robbins and he brings joy unto my life. See, he’s unassuming. He’s got that silky voice. The one who could sell a dream. Hey! Let’s not miss a trick. For he’s a jolly good fellow, he could surely sell my book.

Flagpole is a risk. But I am proud of it all the same. If I thought I was finished with this book at the point of printing that original copy in June 2020. Using up my entire month’s subscription to HP print services. The second day in one week that another replacement ink cartridge was dropped by our shorts wearing postman, holding packages at arm’s length, eventually leaving them on the door step, taking seven steps back. He’d wait for it to be collected each and every time. We were going through a little something something. It would be compared to nothing of concern, leading to well what will become simply known as ‘2020’. That could even be a question. Tell me what you think about me. I buy my own diamonds and well if you know the song, why not sing along.

 I wasn’t motivated by lockdown’s or new year’s resolutions. More I’ve been thinking about writing and completing this novel for so many years. In all my previous jobs, I’d discreetly mention to a colleague that I may have referred to as a friend. I’d share that I’m taking the week off to try and write a book. She laughed in certain intrigue, but she’d pronounce as in anger. Angelic though she may appear, someone will always attempt to hold you back.

 Funny us creatives, we’re rarely taken seriously. If you mention you write, paint or create, then you’re a dreamer, but you are the only one. Why don’t you get a proper job? What you need is a skill . I could be sat in my bedsit circa 2004. Back arched over my computer making words magically appear. I would shape a world I’ve imagined and watch Ricky Gervais as David Brent in the office. I’d have it playing on repeat. It was one of only three DVD’s I owned. The other’s being Phoenix Nights and Fight Club. I’d have my sash window up and open, letting in the concrete air. The room got hot in summer and freezing around November.

I’d escape my whisky drenched bedsit and go home for Yule tide Christmas cheer. When I was back at home in my dwelling place. My duvet at the bedsit could freeze and mope away. I’d open Christmas presents that included another notepad, this one smaller than the one before. Sometimes, they included a tiny pen. The best years were when I got legal pads. It’s all down to Ghost Writer. An early introduction to American after school specials. We watched it in junior school. In England, juniors is from five years old to eleven. A rare treat would be the school wheeled out the one and only massive TV in the entire place, shoved along on a scaffolding trolley. Plug it in, finger at the controls, insert a VHS and then this Ghost Writer show started. Courier font for the titles and a weird bouncing spirit thing. From Ghost Writer to John Grisham films. Legal pads were the thing to have. So, no joke I was happy when I received them.  It was what I did and what I do. Just write everything done from the way Sharon pronounces peninsula or even when you meet someone for the first time, if they describe themselves as being in the top five percent of ‘Goldeneye’. They’re a killer with proximity mines. Be sure to question them as they won’t listen when you speak.

Flagpole is my baby. As soon as I finish Autumn in Georgetown, the loose sequel to Flagpole. I’ll give this child up for adoption and concentrate on nurturing the next one. And, so on and many more.

This thing as been one hell of a process. A lot of things learnt along the way. It’s exciting to think this is only the beginning and I encourage anyone to take that plunge. Whatever it is you want to do. My advice would be, stop talking about it and get it underway. If you start today, in a year’s time you could have created what you only ever dreamt of. It’s a powerful gift to receive.

For all those that read this. It really does mean a lot. I thank you from my pepper pot and we’ll speak so very soon.

 

Until Next Time…

 

Do Good Things.

 

If you read Flagpole, be sure to leave a review. It’ll be available on Amazon KDP. I’d really appreciate hearing from you.