When I was 6, I wrote novels. By which I mean I used to elaborately write out the chapter name of 20 individual chapters (“A nasty shock”; “What’s in the box?”; “Simon gets his comeuppance”*) and the first sentence of each, then staple them together, intending to fill in those pesky details later. This is the earliest example I can remember of two recurring themes of my life:
- wanting to be an author; and
- being bloody lazy.
Thirty odd years later, I am, I guess, well on the way. I’m still lazy (that’s a journey, not a destination), and my first book, City Of Lies, is coming out in July 2018. This blog is sometimes about writing, frequently about my love of all things SFF, and regrettably often my pointless rambles about whatever ad is bothering me on TV at the moment.
Ever noticed how authors often have this brilliant list of jobs they’ve worked or places they’ve lived in their bios? I am something of a failure in this regard, as my real-life bio is so boring my eyes are glazing over just thinking about writing it. This makes me feel like something of a fraud. How can I be a writer without having worked as a journalist taxi driver meat packer amateur sleuth?
Anyway, because an actual bio would be dull here I’m going to instead list a bunch of things I do or am or just made up and you can paint a mental picture of my life from that. What, haven’t you got an imagination? Geesh.
- I have a lovely spouse, K; two children, Loony (6) and Mischief (4); and two dogs, Brown Dog** and Gold Dog. We live in a house made entirely out of Weetbix and mango smoothies. Or possibly that’s just what it feels like today, since those substances seem to be smeared on every surface I can see.
- I have a black belt in jujitsu. Or maybe just a black belt that goes with some of my pants. You decide.
- I love animals and once fantasised about being a zookeeper until I realised how difficult it was to get a job at a zoo (I said I was lazy) and that I’d have to spend all day outside, including in summer when the temperature during the day varies between ‘eyeball blistering’ and ‘lip melting’. But I have a deep fear and distrust of ducks, having been outwitted and tormented by a flock I used to look after for a friend’s parents during holidays.
- If I ever had to pick my hands out of a lineup*** I’d look for the elaborate collection of cheese slicer scars.
There. It’s no lion tamer glass blower peanut butter factory manager, but it’s as good a summary as I can manage.
* I almost certainly used words like ‘commeuppance’. I was drawing heavily on my most common reading material (Enid Blyton novels). Also, I was slightly obnoxious.
**Dog may not actually be brown.
***What, you’ve never thought about this? Hasn’t anyone ever said to you they know something like the back of their hand and then you wonder how well DO I know the back of my hand, and where did that expression even come from? No? Just me then.