So, I’m currently sorting through junk in the garage and came across a book I compiled over several years (I’ll get some extracts up).
I found this charming gem I wrote one night working for tesco
Three in one
It’s gets us all,
So have your fun.
Smoke it hard
Drag it deep
In that time my solace keep
You have killed me
I feel the bite
My lungs are tight
Well isn’t that just lovely.
So, over Christmas the girl became obsessed with Enid blyton after reading the faraway tree, personal favourite of mine when I was younger. She then kept nagging for us to write her stories, so I did.
Once upon a time there was a strange man called Pete. He was a bit weird.
One day he was loading some boxes into his van and scratching his bottom when he tripped over and got his finger stuck up his bum.
Hazel the Witch thought this was so funny that she weed her pants. Pete was being weird and tried to drink it so Hazel kicked him in the bottom.
This made his whole hand get covered in poo. He was still being weird and ate some of it.
Hazel thought he was disgusting and was sick on his head. Pete started to cry and then pooed his pants.
The girl did not approve, and gave me the following comment
not well done
Another of her obsessions being marking things like her teachers.
So, this is one I started when I was in the cinema, it was going to bookend a selection of broken stories I started and never finished. Currently Iv only found this, the start of the first book end, the ending and the broken tales haven’t been found yet.
He was injured.
The injuries may as well have scrolled across his augmented helmet lenses such was his awareness of his perfect form.
And his pain.
Broken right leg
Snapped left Achilles
Dislocated right shoulder- state of arm unknown
Left arm crushed
Not to mention the minor injuries not normally of concern.
He was broken.
But he was Astartes.
He was a Space Marine.
And space marines are infallible.
I really hope to find the remainder of this soon
So, whilst going through my big weird diary I found random lines of things Iv written, that may once have been the seed of a story, song, poem or just something that occurred to me. They all seem nonsensical to me now, but writing may trigger something
This city is my garden. (This I recall was something to do with living in Cardiff, but I have no idea about the significance of the garden- maybe something to do with potential)
Lions head mask (another Cardiff one, this referred to the lions head shape that spilt paint had made, Iv covered this in the past)
Rip it up, tear it down, stamp it out. (No idea)
This shits signed up doh doh (not the foggiest)
Better grab your bottle fill your tiny cup (nope, nothing)
Should we talk all night? (I can’t remember who triggered this one, but it was in reference to a night me and her were up all night chatting on the sofa when we could have probably gone to bed, but I’m glad we didn’t)
How about standing here and miming conversation (this one was after being at a really crappy student party where it was preferable to stand with familiar faces and do nothing rather than spend any time talking to any of the other guests.
Lost weekend, police breaking down, suicide, mental and physical breakdown, alcoholic, pissed on. (Really no idea here, I suspect it would be a standard plot for a British film, but no memory)
So, I have terrible terrible handwriting, bad enough that I really should have been a doctor. I didn’t always, I used to have fairly neat handwriting, but over time it became messier and messier as my writing sped up.
My standard writing looks something like this
Often I get told it’s unreadable, and if you look at it as a block that may well be true, but when you focus on individual words it soon pieces together.
However, when I get a few pints inside me it all goes wrong
Still if you focus on individual words it’s still readable, but it’s starting to become a scrawl.
A few pints later you’re in real trouble
The scrawl is fully established and it’s essentially unreadable without completely focusing on sections at a time and making sensible guesses and hoping you’re right.
I’m hoping I’m able to read it to translate it to the blog, so fingers crossed. But I may need to work on my handwriting if I’m going to write and drink at the same time
So, I joined in on a warhammer 40k role play on a website for a bit of writing inspiration (and an opportunity to actually do something). It was rubbish, you spend so much time waiting for other people to do something only for them to either not react to your writing or do something dull, but this was my post list.
Intro post (not mine)
Hey everyone! So similar rules to the first one, You get one commander and a group of support characters, All factions are available, you have one “Get out of death free” card, use it by post “miraculous survival at the top of your post. No god-modding, and the maze is basically player designed, you encounter what you wish, with a few presets to be encountered and announced later. Anyways… ON TO PLOT!
A section of Trazyn’s collection museum is losing power. You were frozen in it (or maybe you are part of the forces who are knocking out the power) everything living is escaping, you want to leave/knock out power/ kill things.
His swing finished and connected cleanly. It had felt like an eternity in the making.
The xenos beasts head hit the wall and sergeant D’Antine of the Thousand Sons lowered his force sword.
It had been an eternity. D’Antine had encountered all ten thousand years of his incarceration at the hands of Trazyn the infinite. Ten thousand years staring into the bestial eyes of the xenos creature he’d been battling when all had frozen. Ten thousand years in which he’d not been able to finish the hit. But now it was done.
And he was free, ten thousand years had passed, it was time to find his Primarch Magnus and rejoin him in the Emperors Great Crusade.
D’Antine paused, no, the great crusade was over, it would be ridiculous to think war would still be raging after so long, his brother marines wouldn’t have failed.
So what would be his purpose? He must make contact with Magnus.
D’Antine was steadily moving up a corridor with alcoves all around, each had a different occupant, or some had many occupants all arranged in a diorama of battle.
Seeing so many potential enemies of the emperor was almost enough temptation to kill all, but D’Antine knew he was currently alone and even a mighty space marine had to pick his battles occasionally.
Coming upon an alcove with a familiar silhouette inside D’Antine stopped. The armour was clearly a brother space marine but the marking weren’t right. This was clearly an imperial fist, but gone was the proud yellow, this armour was a dark blue and the fists were marked red. Perhaps a specialist? Perhaps tastes had changed in all the time away? D’Antine didn’t know, but he knew a fellow space marine would be a reliable ally.
Reaching out he hit a rune on the alcove door, green light spread away from his gauntleted fist and the stasis screen released the space marine inside
The marine took a second to adjust to movement he could now make and then threw himself bodily at D’Antine.
Both marines slammed into another alcove- crushing the occupant.
“Heretic scum” spat the marine in blue
“Brother space marine, what are you doing?” A shocked D’Antine replied fighting off the red gauntlets.
“Quiet scum, you are of the heretic thousand sons, I will destroy you.”
“Heretic…? No, we are loyal only to the emperor.”
“Chaos scum, you will be destroyed!”
“Chaos? What chaos?”
Something about D’Antines answer stopped the marine from fighting to reach his neck.
“You really don’t know do you?”
“Know what brother?”
The red fisted marine stood and offered his hand to D’Antine, he grasped it and was pulled to his feet.
“I am Brother Sergeant Lorenzo of the Crimson Fists, it would seem you are honest in your confusion. There is much you must know.”
“Sergeant D’Antine of the Thousand Sons, I’m not familiar with your legion, yet your livery is of the Imperial Fists.”
“There is much you need know, but my feeling is now is not up the appropriate time for it.”
“Very well, let us find a secure location, i need information.”
D’Antine stopped his advance and turned to Lorenzo,
“I feel something, an.. Emptiness.. And hatred…”
“Your legion disgraced itself with it’s warp powers, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I really need some new information from you.”
“Never mind right now, look.”
A green glow was approaching, several green glows.
Both marines readied their bolters and opened fire
*thousand son, not emperors children*
In the face of inexplicably returned fire both marines threw themselves down and scrambled for cover.
“D’Antine these are necrons, focus fire, one at a time, they regenerate”
“Thanks Lorenzo, watch this”
Responding to a taunt from the machine in front of him D’Antine rose from his cover and allowed the warp to flow through him, his armour iced over as flames enveloped his hands and a stream of flames blasted towards the necrons
Necrotic flame washed over D’Antine scorching red paint from the ceramite armour.
D’Antine stumbled back to Lorenzo who’d stopped firing at this point.
“D’Antine fall back,” Lorenzo shouted across the Vox, “we aren’t enough for this.”
“Not a chance Lorenzo, I can burn these to nothing.”
“No D’Antine, they regenerate, we need to find the source of their power.”
“Agreed, let’s go.”
D’Antine rose again, opening his mind to the warp and unleashing concentrated power at the nearest necron
there are some missing posts where I was attacked by a necron
So, this is my final man and boy (by tony parsons) reflection- at least until my partner decides she wants to talk about it. This ones less about the book and more about the ending it went for
There was something of a ‘positive Hollywood ending’ to it, everything slotted nicely into place, despite the depth and potential desperation of the story up until this point it all felt far too convenient and unlikely.
It’s tough of course to end a book satisfactorily without it being convenient and crap, and really the ending was nice, but it wasn’t the ending the book needed.
As it was his life had completely changed, and after all the changes and his growth as a
person father he’s given everything up and lost his girl, only for him to race after her and miss her. But then- shock horror- she appears, having changed her mind about leaving.
So how did the book make me feel? I enjoyed it as a story, but as a parent (not a single one thankfully- though it could be argued I have three children sometimes) I felt a variety of things, from disbelief to anger to empathy. I think it’s a credit to tony parsons that he’s been able to write something that can ring true to a dad, even when the situation is completely different. In an interview in the back of the book he said it’s mostly women that bought it, so I’ll be interested in hearing my partners thoughts. She read the book in two days but so far hasn’t mentioned it beyond “aw wasn’t that nice” so we’ll see how it goes.
The problem with finishing a book satisfactorily and not being too convenient and crap