Stranger than fiction

Strange things are happening these days.

When I say "strange" things, I don't mean anything bad or problematic, just that I seem to be moving into a strange world recently - the world of computer literature, Amazon and Kindle accounts, all of which is a bit strange to me.

It would appear that all of the years I spent writing, a lot of it drivel I must admit, but with a grand total of thirty-two novels, it wasn't wasted effort. Once written, and, in the writing, winning five awards with the five entries I made into competitions, the next step would logically be to start on the publishing trail. So that is the current plan with a little help from family and friends.

Incidentally the awards won were all Koestler Awards and they were The David Astor Award, The Galberg Award, two Gold Awards and a Platinum Award. So, it is fair and honest to describe myself as an award-winning author, is it not?

Then, through the kind patronage of a great friend of mine, I discover that I can actually put my stuff onto Kindle and folk will pay to download it to read - so that is the plan.

First, I need to have stuff in a format that lends itself to on-line publishing and we have no idea (yet) what that format may be. However, I know someone who does and when he turns up later this evening that is what we will be doing, putting something onto Kindle.

The novel I intend to begin with is "FREDDIE", the story of a young fellow and his upbringing in the roughest area of Sunderland - The Barbary Coast.

Let me tell you how it all started.

Originally I just wanted to write a sort of dedication to an area long since changed out of all recognition, so I wrote a letter to the Sunderland Echo asking that anyone who lived in the Barbary Coast and who had a story to tell should write to me. I got lots of response and the story more or less wrote itself. The oddest part is that the story, pure fiction I might add, has been named as the best account of life on the Barbary that has ever been produced. One fellow from Monkwearmouth has read it and swears he remembers some of the action in the book. He can't have - I made it all up. But the description of the area is so perfect that it seems to be true. And that, my friends, is the way to do it. The line between fact and fiction is so blurred that it cannot be seen.

As I said, things have been a bit strange lately.

The Voice In  The Wilderness