Tag Archives: Linda G Hill

Reblog: I’m out

Linda G Hill is a supportive and inspirational blogger who is always happy to offer advice and guidance to other writers, so it’s only fair that I reblog this post for her.

I shall no doubt be dropping some none too subtle hints about my published work in the lead up to the annual gift buying season, but for now, please find the time (and your spare change) to order a copy of Linda’s first novella, All Good Stories. Thank you.

I’m out. Of money, that is. It’s official. I went to the grocery store today to pick up some essentials and I got the dreaded “Insufficient Funds” screen on the debit machine. Though it’s killing me to do so, I’d like to ask a favour.

If you haven’t already, please buy my book. If you have, or if you have a friend who might like it, please direct them to it. Reblog, share on social media, have a parade down the main street of your town or city, whatever it is you normally do to get attention. If I can get to $100 in royalties, Amazon will pay me next month – they hold smaller amounts.

If you know me, you know I never ask for anything. I hate asking for anything. Please, just share this post. And if you have 99¢ and want to read a really funny book…

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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

Today’s one liner repurposes another old word, for use in a modern world;

“Approbation” – The trial period for new mobile phone software.


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Posted by on September 28, 2016 in Guest spots., Humour, One liner Wednesday


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Stream of consciousness Sunday: The accumulator, part four…

Here we go again; it’s time to plunge into the literary lucky dip that is SoCS and continue this strange tale by pulling out a prompt from Linda G Hill, who this week left us this to play with…

” “bus.” Use it as it is, or find a word with the letters “bus” in it. ” 

Well, at least three didn’t turn up at once…

The Accumulator, part four.

Scene: A large, comfortably furnished living room. It is a pleasant late summer afternoon and sun streams in through the window, which looks out across open countryside to a line of low, rolling hills in the distance. It is twelve years ago. 

The young man is sitting in an armchair, smoking a cigarette while he reads a book. He is dressed in a loose cotton shirt with short sleeves and pale chinos, for there is still some heat left in the September sunshine, so our attention is caught by the fact that he is also wearing a pair of black leather gloves.

The shot holds steady on the young man as he reads, then a voiceover comes in:

“I look pretty content don’t I..?”

We realise it is the young man’s voice we can hear and, as he continues speaking, his image fades and the scene is replaced by that of the white room. 

Two medical staff are assisting the young man as he tries to sit up, swinging his legs round and helping him stand next to the bed, where he sways unsteadily and looks blankly at the mirrored wall. Then the voiceover returns and images unfold on the screen as the young man continues his story.

“…But I wasn’t having such a happy time three years ago;

I spent another two days at the house in the country, before I was transferred to a facility run by The Department. I don’t remember much about those first few days in my new home, only that I was glad to be away from Dr Braithwaite and his “treatments” (little did I know that it was to be but a brief respite from the horror) and that I was left alone for the most part.

Perhaps before we go any further I should introduce myself. My name, if the good doctor is to be believed anyway, is Patrick Busey, although that fact is largely irrelevant, all things considered. But I know what it’s like with these first person narratives; you always feel more personally connected if you know who you’re dealing with, more invested, if you like. And I’m not kidding when I say I need all the personal investment I can get at this point, because let’s face it, I think this is going to be my swan song. 

Ok, so I might have left it a bit late to provide some context to all these flashbacks and fancy narrative devices, but, you know; being in a coma and all that, it kind of puts a crimp in your chronology recall and I was waiting for a hint or a nudge to the old sleeping grey matter. Well, those EST sessions were just the nudge I needed, the memory of that certainly kick-started some neurons into life. I reckon I could probably now bring you up to speed on the rest of my backstory myself, without having to resort to any more clever jump-cuts and SFX editing than absolutely necessary. So if you’re still interested and since we appear to have broken that mythical “fourth wall” that seems so de rigueur at the moment, I might as well tell you how I came to be trained as an assassin by a shadowy international organisation…”

Scene: A hospital room, seen from above, the present day.

The flashback scene dissolves, fading back to Patrick Busey as an old man, still lying, handcuffed to his hospital bed, his eyes still staring blindly up at us. But now there is the hint of a smile on his lips…


To be continued (using next week’s prompt)…


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Reblogged from Linda G Hill: I’M PUBLISHED!! (almost)

The extremely wonderful Linda G Hill is about to publish her first work and I can’t think of anyone who has been more instrumental in nudging me in the direction of writing fiction than Linda, so I’m glad to present her introductory post here.
Congratulations, Linda, I wish you every success.

And now I’m at a loss for words.

It’s been an interesting time to get to this point, and someday I’ll write about it. For now, I’d like to introduce you to my amazing cover, designed by the even more amazing and lovely Belinda Borradaile, to whom I’d like to express my profound thanks. You can find Belinda’s stunning artwork and her amazing writing at

Book Cover For Linda G HIll

All Good Stories is a romance novelette that was begun as a project for the A-Z April Challenge in 2014. It was originally written entirely off the cuff and posted on my fiction blog unedited.

As best friends, Xavier and Jupiter have always been supportive of each others’ romantic relationships. But when Jupiter meets Bob online, Xavier can’t help but feel he needs to come to her rescue. There’s just something about Bob. In the process of preventing Bob from wooing Jupiter away, Xavier…

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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

It’s been a lovely couple of days, with sunshine, balmy evenings and other, season-appropriate climatic conditions, so this week’s entry in the alternative dictionary is suitably summery in theme;

“Discontent” – Losing one’s frisbee whilst camping.


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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

1linerwedsbadgewes.jpgNot sure if today’s alternative definition is going to require a bit of googling on your behalf, but here it is anyway;

“Microscope” – An optical instrument I use for watching the Corvid family.


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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

1linerwedsbadgewes.jpgOnce again it’s Wednesday, so it must be time join Linda G Hill for a one liner and to redefine another word from my newly inaugurated alternative dictionary project;

“Notable” – A picnic.


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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

1linerwedsbadgewes.jpgSo, having inaugurated my new one liner format last week, I’m hoping you’ll already be in the correct frame of mind to appreciate today’s second salvo of silliness, so here goes;

“Assassination” – A country containing 2 donkeys.


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One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary…

1linerwedsbadgewes.jpgOk, so I’ve come up with a new format for One liner Wednesday, which appeals to my rather individual sense of humour, so you’ll have to bear with me until you get the hang of it;

“Insinuate” – If you’re catholic and you had dinner before going to confession.


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Posted by on June 1, 2016 in Blogging, Humour, One liner Wednesday


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One liner Wednesday: Sh*t my daughter says…

1linerwedsbadgewes.jpgAudrey talks in her sleep all the time, occasionally having what sound like entire conversations; we often hear her chattering away for five or ten minutes at a time, leaving pauses for what we assume to be answers from her imaginary nocturnal companions.

But it seems as if we may have been mistaken, at least as far as Audrey’s awareness of events is concerned, anyway.

She had been mumbling away quite happily to herself, prior to waking up the other morning, when Rhonda went in to get her up for school and have a quick snuggle. Thinking that she was addressing her, Rhonda responded to one of Audrey’s questions, waking her up in the process. She looked at Rhonda without any obvious surprise and said;

“Oh, I knew I was awake, when I talk in my sleep, nobody answers.”


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