Gary Davison

ADIOS!

My new blog is at www.gary-davison.com. Cheers for all your input at this one, but times are a changing and I'm trying to stay with the times! See you over there.

Return of The Mac

HELLO! One is back after some seven weeks. SEVEN WEEKS! I can't believe it's been that long. Is there anyone that still bothers to pass by these parts? Tumble weed? Mmmm. Got to agree there's not been a whole lot going on except I've had my head down doing book number 3, and was there anything else to report?

Ah, that's it, I remember now, I have a certain date for a certain release of a certain debut novel. 26th September 2008 sees, at last, my first novel hit the shelves. Fat Tuesday is finally going to get aired and I can't wait. I said at the start of the year I'd use this blog to tell you what it's like getting published, good and bad, ups and downs, the whole 11-yards.

The disappointment of it not coming out in February is a distant memory and here we are a matter of 8 weeks away. I met with paperbook publishers yesterday down in London to go over promotional ideas and was buzzing when I left. So much so, after missing my first scheduled train I decided to hit a bar along from King's Cross to celebrate my good news. To cut a long one short, instead of arriving back in Newcastle at 5.15, I got back at one a.m, absolutely plastered and matted to a seat fast asleep. The only saving grace was the train terminated in Newcastle and not Edinburgh.

May I also take a little opportunity to congratulate my good friend and fellow paperbooks' author Paul Burman on the imminent release of his debut novel, out on 30th August 2008. Glasses up Paul, all the best, mate.

GONE FISHING

FLAT OUT WRITING NOVEL NUMBER 3. BACK IN A FEW WEEKS. CHEERS FOR STOPPING BY.

You Couldn't Not...

...Laugh at this. It's a collection of short stories by Scottish Beat writer James Kelman. This was first published in 1973 and was Kelman's first collection of short stories. The stories are all based in and around Glasgow bars and bed-sits and so far have had me laughing my head off. Here's a taster:

God love us, step into a bloody puddle, dirty filthy water and dogs' pish gets over the tops of your shoes soaking your socks and feet and you can't even shout fuck. Ach I'm really sick of it all. Must get a job, this would never have happened if I could afford a bus. What a life. Oh man this is really bad. I'll be squelching and sliding in my shoes all day now. Wonder how far it is to Blackfriars?

'Excuse me passer-by, how far...' The girl walked on hurriedly. Jesus you'd think I was going to rape her or something. What a look, an honest simple question. Wish I knew what was with some people. Wonder how long it takes to cross the road. Man, look at this face. God love us. Imagine having a one like that. Course he'll have money though - that's the difference. I'd take his face in a minute, if his money went with it. Ah the poor old bastard, probably got a heavy mortgage - over-drawn at the bank - wife pregnant for the seventeenth time and every one a mongol...

Morning giggle

This got me chuckling this morning, landed in my email from my mate Stevey:

> I was walking past the mental hospital the other day, and
> all the patients
> were shouting ,'13....13....13'
>
> The fence was too high to see over, but I saw a little gap
> in the planks
> and
> looked through to see what was going on.
>
> Some bastard poked me in the eye with a stick.
>
> Then they all started shouting '14....14....14'...

Hang on in there!

All of you that still bother to visit this near dormant site! Changes are happening and it looks like a big gust of wind is going to be blown into our sails at last.

I remember at Christmas sticking a post up thanking everyone for visiting my blog and promising to give the low down, punch-for-punch, on what happens when you get published. I was ready to shoot from the hip on the highs and lows, using good old honesty as the only tool for an exciting blog.

Since then nowts happened. Zilch (is that how you spell zilch???). Not a sausage and consequently fellow authors, Paul Burman excluded, have thrown the towel in on the blogging front and I don't blame them. I'm close to tossing it in myself and admitting defeat in keeping things going when there's not a whole lot happening.

But just hang on, there is something happening. I, like the rest of the authors here at paperbooks, have just signed another contract, a sort of extension to our current deals, with the new owners of paperbooks. What's more I've had a chat with the very approachable new owner and my chins up and I'm excited once again about this publishing business. I might as well stick my neck on the line and say there's a 60-40, no, 70-30, no 50-50, chance that my book will be out this year.

Sounds so long away, doesn't it? But it's not that far away. It's May now, so you're looking at twenty-odd weeks. Let's convince our selves it's nothing, then maybe with the added input of the new owners and the inevitable revamp of the website, and the meetings down in London (yes a provisional invite to get round the table and discuss promotion of the book etc has been extended), we might yet breath some much needed life into everyone here. Who knows, by Christmas there could be seven or eight authors here knocking out blogging posts like there was no tomorrow, discussing sales figures, highs and lows, having laughs at events and festivals, just like our sister company, Legend Press.

I'm up for it, if you are. Let's get some excitement back, after all, getting published is a big deal, isn't it? Too right it is.

It's red hot here in Newcastle today, so I'm off to the pub with my mates. Happy days.

Books Books Books

I've never been through such a spell of ditching books without finishing them. Here are a few that made it into the charity bag in the last month or so:

Don't mind someone getting it all of their chest, especially when there's a promise of some decent sex scenes in the back of a truck, but this ranting and raving was ridiculous. Had my head ringing and went after fifty pages.

Amelie Nothomb's Fear and Trembling is a favourite of mine, but her latest effort was a real let down. It was a big hit in France, but I couldn't get past thirty pages. It was about a reality show where the contestants get a good hiding and no food. So stiff and constructed. Not for moi.

Onto some that are hitting the mark.

Thoroughly enjoying this one, from William Maxwell. Reminds me a bit of In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, another one on my top shelf. In, So Long See You Tomorrow, first released in 1980 in New York, two farmers destroy each other with murder and suicide, and of course a woman is at the centre of it all. Two teenage friends are separated by the events and never speak again. The beauty of this novel is the writing. Effortless, simple and takes you along at a pace that makes you want to lie back and chill out. Then something happens and you sit up and re-do your pillows and take notice. Only halfway through, but this could definitely make it onto the top shelf.

After doing a post on Charles Bukowski, I picked up Locked In the Arms Of A Crazy Life. A biography of the forever pissed-up author of some great books. What caught my eye with this was the person writing it, Howard Sounes. In the preface he let you know that he hadn't met Bukowski, wasn't going to idolize him, just going to give it to you straight. He had visited just about every person known to still be alive that had met Bukowski and even went to the trouble of trying to write this book in the sharp, short sentence style of Bukowski. Despite not being a fan of Ham On Rye, Bukowski's autobiography of his younger years, I decided to give this a go and I'm pleased I did. Flew through the first 100 pages and I'm dipping in and out of it in between other reading. I enjoy reading about successful authors and how they had people they admired and how they couldn't get published and nearly chucked it in. Inspirational to know that those that made it to the top were one day just as eager and hung up as the rest of us and secretly admired others. Yes, they were human too.

Here are a few on the shelf, ready to read (apologies for the amazon covers, it's the best I could do):

I know, how the hell have I got to this age and not read a Clock-Work Orange? It's that bloody first paragraph, isn't it? You know that, my three droogs and rassoodocks carry on. Well, it's been bought and when I've got a really clear head I'm going to give it a shot.

They don't get any easier, do they?

HANGOVERS! To recover from, I mean.  Aggggg! The mighty Newcastle United were playing Sunderland on Sunday, and the night before was one of mate's birthdays - added together it meant a drinking roll-over which is killing me today still.

Why was it that ten years ago all it took to get rid of a hangover was a few pints at dinner time and a decent feed and now it takes four days of eating and dragging my body around like I've gained five stone?

I know there'll be a scientific explanation, but getting old is the basic answer, isn't it? Or older, I'm not chucking the towel in just yet. Although I feel like it today. And I've got a French lesson tonight, which I'm actually looking forward to despite the banging head.

This French course Karen and I have been doing since September, we really enjoy. It's conversational, holiday, sort of one before GCSE, standard, and no matter what kind of day either of us have had, we always have a laugh at french. Tonight's a tester with the hangover, so I think we're going for a quick bite and a pint before we go in.

When ever I'm hungover, the reading goes out the window for a few days (apart from the Sun newspaper) and I'm onto the sky-plus planner to see what my numb head can handle. Yesterday, despite not being a fan of horror or sci-fi, I tucked into 5 straight hours of Ray Bradbury's Horror shows, or terror shows, on the horror channel. All based on his short stories. They were old and nasty with titles like Invasion, which was the longest by far, but had me gripped. Great seeing Aliens walking the land and letting out deadly green mist that missed you if you were two-feet of the floor. It was the only good thing about this hangover!

Guest Blogger 4 - The Banker's Back!

BANNED FROM SUBWAY

As some others seems to have recounted some lifetime experience, I thought I would do the same………………..

“We just didn’t turn up……utter pants”.

That was the only way I could describe our performance. My mate Matty gloated as only a true Carlisle fan would after seeing his side thrash my beloved

Brighton

3-1. We were lucky to get the one. Gutted.

I knew the day was never going to be a good one. The day started promising enough meeting my mates Matty & Davy in Wetherspoons at 10.30am for a few early morning pints & an unhealthy breakfast. Then over the road to the rail station to board the “Thunderer”. No, this description of the train has nothing to do with sheer speed, but the bloody noise it makes – have you ever been on the boneshaker of a contraption that takes you from Newcastle to Carlisle. I actually use the word “train” very loosely.

Sitting on the train-thing, watching the sheep in the field trot quicker than my chosen mode of travel proved troublesome enough for me to spill my beer several times on my

Brighton

shirt. By the time we reached

Carlisle

, I was already feeling slightly under the influence and there was still a couple of hours to go till kick off!

More pubs to visit, more beer to consume. A quick trip to the bookies (of course) for a modest wager on the Mighty Seagulls to thrash the Cumbrians – I suspect that was the only bet the bookie took in favour of Brighton … I’m sure I could hear him sniggering. Mind, that might be due to the fact that I left my mobile phone behind & had to run back to the bookie’s to retrieve it later!

Anyway, the game came & went (given the result, you don’t really expect me to expand on the finer details do you?). I had a good old sing song with my new found mates in the

Brighton

end whilst Matty & Davy cheered the home side on – gits! We lost so what could I do. Oh, of course, head back to the pub.

More beer followed together with an Alan Hansen-esque analysis – can that man ever review a game without using the words “pace, power & strength”? Watch him next time – he says it every time, so much so I think he gets a bit a jolly out of it. Do it, watch it & he’ll say it.

The “Thunderer” was due to take us back at 7.30 so the hunger pangs started. Subway. Yes, Subway would be a good idea we thought. A plan of drunken action was quickly formulated. Davy & I would head to Subway whilst Matty would go to the off licence to obtain the liquid refreshment for the journey home…well, obviously we would need something to wash our nourishment down! We went our separate ways, still with pint of beer in my hand and agreed to meet back on the corner in 10 mins. Seemed a simple enough plan?! Wrong.

Oh how very wrong.

Davy & I walked into Subway…....admittedly after a bit of a hassle trying to open the door – I’m sure the “Push” sign was written by someone with a crap sense of sarcastic humour. We studied the menu. Meatball marinara…it sounded like a delicacy, yes, we would order three of them. But what, no staff in sight. What sort of eatery was this? I peered around the back of the counter and spotted some lady doing nowt in the back. I tried to gain her attention by waving my pint at her. No joy and she remained oblivious to our desperate state of hunger.

Aha, I knew what to do. I decided to open the hatch thing & walked behind the counter & picked up the carving knife. I decided I would have a joke & pretend to make my own sandwich – yes, that would certainly get the attention of Mrs Oblivious.

How so very wrong. Instead of the attention of the master of sandwich making, in swooped two policemen. They literally burst through the doors. Now I am the first to confess that, as I span around from behind the counter, pint in one hand, carving knife in the other, that it didn’t exactly look too good!

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur. My protestations fell on deaf ears. I mean come on……..surely they could see the joke…………. Did they seriously think I was going to murder the staff of Subway with a carving knife………..perhaps they did. Davy then made the situation ten times worse by stating that he would not be moved until be had three meatball marinara’s in our possession. I half expected him to chain himself to the salad bar.

Anyway, long story short (although admittedly I haven’t kept it short so far), we got away by the skin of our teeth by explaining that the train was due any minute. This placated the police as they made it clear we were not welcome in

Carlisle

anymore. What are they seriously implying that being kicked out of

Carlisle

was some sort of punishment. Irony more like it. Nonetheless, we walked out sheepishly, managing the door no problem this time, only to face another torrent of abuse from Matty, calling us greedy gits for eating his sandwich. It took a bit of explaining.

I boarded the “Thunderer” and it wasn’t long before I nodded off into an alcohol induced state of dreaming of my meatballs!

Happy days!

If I followed the style of Rod, I would now reveal my identify, but for fear of reprisal from Subway staff and the Cumbrian “massive”, I’ll stick to Banker. I’m a Corporate Banker (yes, ordinarily I am serious) and been mates with

Gary

since school. Likes…life, dislikes……..miserable sods, Jamie Oliver & Alan Hansen, Harley Davison bikers amongst numerous other things.

Onwards and upwards.

Our company, Paperbooks, has been sold to Legend Pess. Paul Burman sums everything up very nicely on his blog this week. Couldn't have put it better myself, and won't try. At least now everything's in the open and all involved can look to the future, us lot included. A quick raise of the glass to Keirsten Clark who has worked so hard with paperbooks and has done a miracle job on my novel, Fat Tuesday. Yes her imput and vision was that good. I've thoroughly enjoyed working with Keirsten and wish her all the best.

And a quick hello to all at Legend Press if you're watching. You've got to be you've just bought us!!!

And just as important, if anyone's tuning into the final round of the Masters, I've got 20 quid on Stewart Cink at a massive 80 to 1. He's 5 under through 1 and playing with Tiger. Six of the lead but owt can happen.