#BlogTour #Review Motivation Matters by Wendy H Jones @WendyHJones #LoveBooksTours

Title: Motivation Matters by Wendy H Jones

Date Published: 21st May 2019

Genre: Non-Fiction

Description:

Has your motivation to write flown out of the window? Do feelings of self-doubt creep in and haunt your writing day? Looking for a way to beat the doubts into submission? Award-winning author and writing coach Wendy H. Jones shows you how, with 366 glorious exercises you can use to boost creativity and change the way you think and feel about your writing. Techniques that can easily be incorporated into your day, becoming part of your writing routine. It’s time to change the way you think and feel, in order to set your creativity free.

You Can Buy Your Copy Here:

https://amzn.to/2IsnOu2

motivation-matters

Review:

I want to thank Kelly over at Love Books Tours for inviting me on this tour and providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Motivation Matters is a fantastic book packed full of little tips and tricks to help break you out of that creative rut.

There’s 366 tidbits of advice, written in a fun friendly style that almost makes you think that you’ve got your own little personal coach, egging you on. You can dip in and out or work through them on consecutive days, it’s really up to you!

Like most writers, I struggle with procrastination and self doubt, Motivation Matters helped me step back a little, relax and not be so hard on myself.

Of course there’s going to be a bit of trial and error as you work your way through the book, not everything is bound to work for you but this book is really about helping you find out what does work.

I’d recommend Motivation Matters for anyone who needs that extra boost of inspiration to help you reach your goals.

About The Author:

Award Winning Author Wendy H. Jones lives in Scotland, and her police procedural series WendyHJones2018featuring Detective Inspector Shona McKenzie, is set in the beautiful city of Dundee, Scotland. Wendy has led a varied and adventurous life. Her love for adventure led to her joining the Royal Navy to undertake nurse training. After six years in the Navy, she joined the Army where she served as an Officer for a further 17 years. This took her all over the world including Europe, the Middle East and the Far East. Much of her spare time is now spent travelling around the UK, and lands much further afield. As well as nursing Wendy also worked for many years in Academia. This led to publication in academic textbooks and journals. Killer’s Countdown is her first novel and the first book in the Shona McKenzie Mystery series. Killer’s Crew won the Books Go Social Book of the Year 2107. There are now six books in this series with Killer’s Crypt being released in August 2017. The Dagger’s Curse is the first book in The Fergus and Flora Mysteries for Young Adults. This book is currently shortlisted for the Woman Alive Magazine Readers Choice Award Book of the Year. She is also a highly successful marketer and she shares her methods in the book, Power Packed Book Marketing.

Twitter:

@WendyHJones

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#BlogTour #Review The 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook by Morgen Bailey @morgenwriteruk @BOTBSPublicity

Title: The 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook by Morgen Bailey

Genre: Non Fiction/Writing

Description:

Over a thousand sentence starts, three per day, with writing tips at the end of each week to motivate and inspire, providing kick-starts to avoid the dreaded ‘writer’s block’. Useful for any writer at any level, whether they have 10 minutes or 10 hours, to start a new project. Also an ideal tool for writing groups.

With a combination of six first-person, six second-person, six third-person and three non-specific point of view starts per week, there are plenty to choose from. Beginning at ‘Day 1’ this book has been designed to be started at any time of the year, and regardless of whether the sentences are used in order or not. With a choice of three per day a writer can select one, two or all and see where it leads them.

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Review:

A huge thank you to Sarah Hardy at Books On The Bright Side Publicity for inviting me on this blog tour and providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

The 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook is a great book that really gives your creative spark a boost!

As the title suggests there are 365 days worth of writing prompts. You can do an exercise every day if you want to or like me dip in and out when you need that extra bit of assistance.

Each day you’re given three lines, in a different tense or point of view which you can use to start a story. The great thing is you can use as many lines as you want, you can even change the POV or names or tense, mix and match lines from different days, there’s endless possibilities!

When I got my hands on this book I was really suffering from maybe not full blown writer’s block but I’d really hit a wall with my writing. I used a couple of the prompts and while the stories I wrote were not the best, it really helped me get back into writing.

The 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook is a fab little book that every writer should have in their toolbox.

Author Bio:

Morgen Bailey – Morgen with an E – is a multi-genre author, freelance editor, writing tutor, writing competitions magazine columnist and judge, blogger, and speaker.2 Morgen July 2017

Her website is www.morgenbailey.wordpress.com, email is morgen@morgenbailey.com, she is morgenwriteruk on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

Her books can be found at Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Morgen-Bailey/e/B007SNIBF8, http://www.amazon.co.uk/Morgen-Bailey/e/B007SNIBF8 etc.),

Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/morgenbailey) and wherever books can be ordered.

 

#BlogBlitz #Review How NOT To Write Female Characters by Lucy V Hay @LucyVHayAuthor @rararesources

How Not To Write Female Characters by Lucy V. Hay

Title: How NOT to write female characters by Lucy V Hay

Date Published: 23rd August 2018

Genre: Non-Fiction/Writing

Description:

Female characters. When fifty per cent of your potential target audience is female, if you’re not writing them in your screenplay or novel? You’re making a BIG mistake!

But how should you approach your female characters? That’s the million-dollar question … After all, women in real life are complex, varied and flawed. Knowing where to start in creating three dimensional female characters for your story is extremely difficult. 

So … perhaps it’s easier to figure out how NOT to write female characters?

Script editor, novelist and owner of the UK’s top screenwriting blog http://www.bang2write.com, Lucy V Hay has spent the last fifteen years reading the slush pile. She has learned to spot the patterns, pitfalls and general mistakes writers make when writing female characters – and why.

In How Not To Write Female Characters, Lucy outlines: 

•WHO your character is & how to avoid “classic” traps and pitfalls
•WHAT mistakes writers typically make with female characters
•WHERE you can find great female characters in produced and published content
•WHEN to let go of gender politics and agendas
•WHY female characters are more important than ever

Lucy is on a mission to improve your writing, as well as enable diverse voices and characters to rise to the top of the spec pile. 

REVIEWS FOR LUCY V’S WRITING ADVICE: 

‘A timely guide to creating original characters and reinvigorating tired storylines. ‘
– Debbie Moon, creator and showrunner, Wolfblood (BBC)  

‘Lucy V. Hay nails it’
– Stephen Volk, BAFTA-winning screenwriter: Ghostwatch, Afterlife, The Awakening 

‘Packed with practical and inspirational insights’
– Karol Griffiths, development consultant and script editor, clients include ITV, BBC, Warner Brothers 

‘A top-notch, cutting-edge guide to writing and selling, not just practical but inspirational. Lucy’s distinctive voice infuses the entire journey. Quite brilliant. Here’s the woman who’ll help you make things happen.’
– Barbara Machin, award-winning writer & creator of Waking the Dead 

‘Delivers the stirring call to arms that writers must not only write, but take their work to the next level themselves, making sacrifices and taking risks if they want to see their stories on screen.’
– Chris Jones, Filmmaker, Screenwriter & Creative Director at the London Screenwriters Festival 

‘Writing and Selling Thriller Screenplays is a must-read for any writer, producer or director looking to create (or in the process of creating) a thriller production. It could also be immensely useful for those generally curious about the genre or looking to learn more.’ – Film Doctor

‘Lucy V Hay explains what a script reader and editor’s role in filmmaking, tells you to work on your concepts and that dialogue is the last thing to work on in her new book.’ – Brit Flicks

Review:

So as a wannabe author, I’m always on the lookout for books to help with my writing journey. How NOT to write female characters is definitely one of those books.

The focus of the book is looking at clichés surrounding female characters from kiss ass hottie to adding a female just for the sake of it.

Even though I am female, I still found this book extremely helpful and Lucy V Hay really uses her years of writing expertise to create this informative read. It’s a quick, straight to the point read, written in a no nonsense style which took me less than an hour to read.

I feel like a lot of the advice can be used not just for female characters, but to create any fully rounded character in general, so it’s definitely worth a read.

How NOT to write female character is a quick read, written in a clear and straight to the point style that I’d recommend to anyone who has an interest in writing.

About The Author –

Lucy V. Hay is an author, script editor and blogger who helps writers via her Bang2write How Not - hands in the air, looking upconsultancy. Lucy is the producer of two Brit Thrillers, DEVIATION (2012) and ASSASSIN (2015), as well as the script editor and advisor on numerous other features and shorts.  Lucy’s also the author of  WRITING AND SELLING THRILLER SCREENPLAYS for Kamera Books’ “Creative Essentials” range, as well as its follow ups on DRAMA SCREENPLAYS and DIVERSE CHARACTERS.

Social Media Links –

www.instagram.com/Bang2write

www.twitter.com/Bang2write

www.facebook.com/groups/Bang2writers

Happy New Year! #NewYearsResolutions #BookBlogger #Blogger #Resolutions2019 #amreading #amwriting #Goals

Happy New Year lovelies! As is tradition I’ll be making some new year’s resolutions today but first a quick recap of 2018’s resolutions and how I did:

Reading:

Do my first Goodreads challenge, I’m thinking of setting my goal at 60 books. (manageable I think). I actually set it at 75 but I surpassed that by reading 163 books! I’m stunned I read so many.

Read outside my comfort zone. Again I was successful with this one too! I read paranormal romance (a genre I hadn’t even heard of before). I also rediscovered my love of horror and ghost stories. I even read a book all about death and grief!

Read books that have been on my tbr list for more than a year. This one wasn’t quite so successful, I think I managed one or two.

Writing:

Take part in both Camp NaNoWriMo (the one in April not July) and NaNoWriMo again. I actually did Camp NaNoWriMo in April but I didn’t do the proper NaNo just because I was going through a lot with my dad being ill and lots of other stress. One out of two ain’t bad!

See if I can edit The Taken into something readable. Oh god I blocked my monstrosity of a manuscript from my 2017 NaNoWriMo out. It’s currently gathering dust on my hard drive! Fail on that one.

Post a short story/flash fiction on my blog once a month. Another fail. I started out with such good intentions but only to do four short stories throughout the year.

Carry on blogging! I definitely did that lol!

So I didn’t do too badly but I thought long and hard about this years resolutions. I decided to keep it simple.

2019

So my 2019 resolutions are:

Write a little every day.

Try more genre that I don’t usually read like:

Historical Fiction,

Non Fiction,

Romance,

Fantasy,

Fairytales,

Classics

Paranormal romance

(any suggestions within these genres are welcome especially fantasy or romance)

Cut down on blog tours.

Set my Goodreads goal for 100 books. The reason I only picked 100 is because I got to a certain point last year where I stopped enjoying reading, I want to take my time a little more this year.

Get my NetGalley feedback ratio up to 80%.

Attempt my first read along.

And that’s it! Wishing you all the best for the year to come!

Do you have any resolutions this year, let me know in the comments section!

bookss

#ShortStory A Cat Named Tiger by LJ Cassidy.

I dedicate this story to my mum who would have been 69 today and to anyone who has lost someone they loved too soon.

I had best wash these dishes,” said Marion looking pointedly at her daughter Heather, hoping she’d take the hint it was time for her to go.

Instead Heather picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

I’ll just see what’s on later, shall I?”

Marion stifled a sigh, as she gathered the cups and cake encrusted plates. She didn’t want to know what was on later, she just wanted to be alone. Not that she didn’t love her daughter’s company, but it was suffocating. By herself she didn’t have to pretend everything was okay, choke down cream cakes just to make it look like she was acting ‘normally’ whatever that meant. All she wanted to do was curl up under the duvet.

Her husband Pat wouldn’t have stood for this, he would have just told her outright it was time to go, in that blunt way of his. But Pat wasn’t here any more.

She could feel tears filling her eyes.

Need a hand mum?”

No, no,” she replied a little too brightly, “I’ll do us another cup while I’m at it. Tea or did you want another coffee?”

Tea’d be good.”

She managed to get to the kitchen before the tears began to run down her face.

Corrie’s on later mum,” called Heather, “d’you want me to put it in for record?”

No, she wanted to shout, I want my husband back but she daren’t say those words out loud.

Sounds good,” she replied.

Wiping her face she filled the kettle, flicking it on then plonked the dishes in the sink with squirt of washing up liquid.

Opening up the taps, she watched the bubbles rise, trying not to look out of the window that overlooked the back garden. It had been Pat’s pride and joy but now she knew it was tangled with weed and overgrown. It was where she had found him six months ago, not breathing. She’d tried her best to resuscitate him but it didn’t work.

A brain aneurysm, the doctor said. Nothing that could be done.

She turned the taps off and pick up a plate, scrubbing too hard.

A huge thump against the window made her look up.

She was staring into a pair of green eyes.

Marion let out a small scream, as the plate slipped from her hand back into the sink sending a cascade of water over her feet.

Heather tore into the room, panting slightly.

Mum are you okay?”

With a flash of ginger fur, the green eyes disappeared.

I’m fine, it was just a cat,” Marion replied, attempting a smile. “Gave me a funny turn, that’s all.”

Heather didn’t look convinced. “How about I finish the dishes off, ay mum? I’ll bring you a cuppa in, in a minute ‘kay?”

With that she ushered Marion out of the kitchen.

********

It had taken over an hour to get Heather out of the house the previous evening, having suspected that the whole cat incident was entirely in her mother’s imagination.

Marion was now back at the sink, filling it ready for her breakfast dishes when she heard the thump against the window again.

Moving slowly, she turned the tap off and looked up. The cat stood on the window ledge outside, poised to run, its green eyes glaring at her.

Marion didn’t know how long she stood there having a stare out with the cat before it sat down on the ledge, not taking its eyes of her.

Marion had noticed the ginger fur yesterday but in the early morning sun, she could make out the almost golden stripes in its fur.

Looks a bit like a tiger, she thought.

Pat always used to say, ‘easy tiger,’ whenever she was angry in a way that had always made her laugh and forget why she was mad in the first place.

The memory made her smile.

I’m going to call you Tiger,” she whispered, reaching towards the glass.

Her fingers brushed the window and suddenly Tiger bolted leaving Marion feeling a little empty.

********

It went on like that for days. She’d fill the sink and while the water went cold and the bubbles dissolved, she’d watch Tiger but every time she made a move to get closer, he’d run away.

She noticed that he seemed to be getting thinner and the absence of a tag around his neck suggested he didn’t have a home, which gave her an idea.

The next morning she grabbed a tin of tuna and spooned it into a bowl. Opening the kitchen window outwards she placed the bowl on the little ledge and ran the water as usual.

Sure enough, a minute or two later Tiger showed up. He was wary at first having not seen the window open before but the scent of tuna must have been too tempting as he was soon tucking in with gusto.

Carefully, Marion leaned over the sink and gently stroked his back, his fur was warm under her fingers. Tiger seemed to stiffen but carried on eating.

She did it again and again but he didn’t run away. instead he let out a long purr. Tiger sloped off as soon as he was finished but that didn’t matter to Marion, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time, happy.

********

The next day she laid out another bowl full of tuna in the morning, opening the window a little wider.

Lunchtime came and went, she’d filled the sink several times just in case but there was no sign of Tiger.

Marion left the window open until darkness began to fall and a chill began to creep into the house.

Have I scared him off? She thought.

Unlocking the back door, she went out and placed the tuna under the window just in case.

After a terrible nights sleep, Marion wrapped herself up in her dressing gown and slippers and went outside to check on the bowl.

She sighed with relief. The bowl was empty.

Picking it up she was about to go back inside when she spotted something in the tangles of weeds.

Orange fur.

Her brain flashed back to the moment she found Pat.

She rushed over to Tiger, who was lying on his side, his breathing shallow. He’d thrown up the tuna into the grass around him.

Marion picked up the stricken cat, wrapping him in her dressing gown and she shot out the front door.

Luckily the nearest vets was only ten minutes away, her slippered feet pounded the pavement and they made it in five.

She rang the bell and hammered on the hoping there was someone in.

Mum?” said Heather opening the door, dressed in her green veterinary nurse uniform, a look of shock on her face.

Tiger…sick,” she panted holding out the bundle.

Heather became all business, taking Tiger and ushering her into the empty waiting room.

Wait here mum,” she said, “I’ll get the vet to check him over.”

Still trying to catch her breath, she flopped down heavily on to the chair. She shivered realising she was only wearing her nightie.

Ninety minutes.

That’s how long she was sitting there until a very tired looking vet appeared.

Mrs Donovan?”

How’s Tiger?” She blurted out in reply.

He smiled. “We’ve flushed his system out with some fluid and we’re going to keep him in a couple of days to make sure whatever upset his stomach has gone but he’s going to be fine.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Oh thank goodness.”

His face turned serious. “Although I have discovered you haven’t had him microchipped. We can do it for you here, it is the law you know.”

Oh, he’s not my cat,” she then explained about the daily visits.

So what did you want me to do? Do you want to keep him or shall I phone the shelter?”

One Week Later.

The doorbell was ringing. Marion opened it to find Heather waiting with a box full of cakes. She gave her daughter a big hug, taking the cake box and guided her into the living room.

A little meow greeted them.

I see Tiger’s made himself at home,” laughed Heather, sitting down on the couch next to him and stroking his ears.

Marion sat on the other side and Tiger immediately jumped onto her lap.

How are you mum?” Said Heather.

I’m grand. I’ve got someone coming out to do the garden in the next couple of days. When the weather warms up a bit we can sit out there and have our tea.”

That sounds great.”

And I’ve a book club, get out of the house a bit. Obviously not too much, now I’ve got Tiger here.”

Heather reached over and squeezed her mum’s hand.

I got a some very surprising news off that vet of yours the other day. About Tiger I mean.”

Oh?”

He is actually a she.”

They both laughed.

Well, I think a change of name is in order,” said Heather.

I agree,” said Marion smiling. “I think I’ll call her Hope.”

Copyright © LJ Cassidy

I do not own the rights to the photo.

If you see any spelling/grammatical mistakes please comment below and I will fix them. Thank you for reading xx

#FlashFicitonFriday Waiting by LJ Cassidy #amwriting #writerslife

Olivia settled back into a comfy chair in the living room, opening up a book. With every noise outside, her eyes travelled from the page to the window overlooking the street. After ten minutes of reading the same sentence over and over, she threw the book down.

She hated waiting for things.

Getting up, she checked herself in the mirror over the fireplace. The blonde bob framed her heart shape face nicely, glad she’d decided on a quick haircut the day before. She smoothed the lines of her flowered dress, not her outfit of choice but she had to look good today.

There was a huge slam that reverberated through the house.

Rushing to the window, she saw the familiar sight of a grey van. It looked a little like a delivery truck, except this one had steel reinforced sides and bullet proof windows.

There was a heavy knock on the door, she almost thought it was going to come off its hinges.

Walking out into the hall, she took a deep calming breath before opening the door.

Olivia was faced with someone distinctly male looking, dressed head to toe in bulletproof armour topped off with a helmet.

The helmet’s black tinted visor was down so Olivia couldn’t make out a face.

He was carrying a long cardboard box under one arm.

Excitement coursed through her, she reached for the parcel but a gloved hand clamped around hers’ squeezing tightly. It felt like every bone in her fingers were going to snap.

Malcolm, let her go,” said a woman sternly, who appeared from nowhere carrying what looked like a clipboard. “Sorry about that, can’t get the robots these days. Are you Mrs Olivia Dawson?”

The robot obeyed the woman and let Olivia go.

Yes,” she replied, rubbing the feeling back into her hand.

I’m Agent Buckley.”

She turned to look at the woman, dressed in a sensible navy blue suit and white shirt. Olivia spied a black holster sitting snugly under her arm, the butt of a gun just visible.

Can we come in?”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded at Agent Buckley, moving out the way for them, trailing in their wake into the living room. The agent’s eyes travelled around the cosy room with large squashy sofas and bookcases lining the walls. It looked more like a library.

Where’s your wife?”

Oh, she got called into work suddenly,” Olivia said nervously. “She’s a doctor after all.”

Would they not give her the package? They wouldn’t take it away, would they? She was so close.

She frowned. “Most irregular. Anyway we just need a DNA sample to confirm your identity.”

Olivia placed a sweaty hand on the clipboard, which turned out a tablet, to give a sample.

The robot set the package on the floor.

You can leave us now,” said Buckley waving it away. The door closed after it with a mighty crash.

Can I see?” she asked excitedly.

It’s against protocol but I don’t see why not.”

Buckley pulled open the cardboard to reveal a sturdy plastic box that looked a bit like it was holding music equipment or something. She flicked open two catches and heaved up the lid.

Inside, lay the most beautiful baby Olivia had even seen.

She’s just to your specifications,” said Buckley reading from her tablet. “Blonde hair, blue eyes, rosy complexion.”

She picked up the sleeping baby gently. She was seven when natural reproduction was outlawed by the world’s governments, to curbed the swelling population.

She still remembered being wheeled into the sterile theatre and the pain in her stomach that lasted for weeks after they ripped out her womb.

Five years ago, the government told her that she wasn’t ‘stable’ enough to have a child whatever that meant. She had so much love to give, they didn’t understand.

Olivia was going to prove them wrong, she would be good for this child.

Hold on,” said Buckley frowning. “There seems to be a problem…”

Buckley went for her gun but Olivia was too quick. She pulled out the gun she’d been hiding behind the cushion on the couch. She shot the other woman in the head before she finished her sentence.

It was the same weapon she’d used to kill real Olivia and her wife earlier.

Somewhere in her brain it registered she was doing something wrong but she ignored it.

She was a mother now.

Thank you for reading!© LJ Cassidy

#ShortStory Bedside Confession by L.J. Cassidy #amwriting #writer #writerslife

So one of my resolutions for 2018 was to write a short story or piece of flash fiction for my blog each month, and here’s the first.  I hope you enjoy it and I’d love to hear what you think!

I nodded absently, adding the odd ‘mm I suppose,’ as my dad rambled on. I don’t know when he decided that every bowel movement, or lack thereof, deserved an in depth discussion but I suppose there wasn’t anything much else to talk about. At eighty-three his body seemed to be giving up on itself, and now he was confined to living in a nursing home where the only sources of entertainment were reading or staring mindlessly at the TV. Well, unless he overheard one the care staff dishing some salacious gossip, but that had gotten less frequent of late, now his hearing was as he described it ‘like having his ears stuffed with itchy cotton wool’.

Today was especially bad. After the simple task of getting out his chair had caused him to take a tumble two days ago, he’d confined to his bed to rest, which mean he didn’t even have the company of his fellow residents to break the monotony of his day.

His bedroom wasn’t much bigger than your average bedsit. A wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a single bed and a chair had been crammed into the tiny space. It was making me claustrophobic sitting next to his bed.

I remember as a child thinking how tall and indestructible he seemed now he looked so small and shrunken tucked up under his duvet cover. 

My eyes hovered over the bruise just above his eyebrow, covered most of his wrinkled forehead was turning from purple to a yellowish green, which was a good sign but the cut running the length of his forehead that I was more worried about. It had turned an ominous shade of black.

This was the man who used to make bad jokes, always telling me and my sister tall stories of when he was a pirate or a spy or some other such nonsense that kept us enraptured…

Kerry?” said dad, his weak voice breaking through my thoughts.

Yes, dad?” I replied.

You’ve got that look.”

What look?”

That worried look.”

I don’t mean to,” I sighed. “It’s just…how did you fall again?”

It was my dad’s turn to sigh. “I told you. I got up to go the loo and my legs decided they didn’t want to do that and I fell. Hit my head on old Bertie’s chair.”

Nobody pushed you?”

No, this is a good place this, no abuse here.”

Okay, then,” I replied, not entirely convinced.

Your mum was always a worrier when she were alive. I was a couple of hours late home one night, she called the police, the coastguard and she was trying to get hold of the army when I walked in.”

Down the pub, were you?” I smiled. I knew most of his stories and they always seemed to involve the pub in some way, shape or form.

I noticed him shift uncomfortably under his duvet cover.

Don’t tell me you cheating on mum?”

Your mum was the love of my life, I would have never done that,” he snorted indignantly. “It’s just well…it’s not something I’ve ever told anyone before.

Oh, go on,” I replied, “it can’t be that bad.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his bloodshot eyes staring me down.

Alright then,” he said eventually. “It happened when you were small, seventy four I think, the autumn or was it the winter…”

I could see him getting agitated, so I placed a hand on his arm. “It’s okay dad, the date doesn’t matter, just carry on.”

Anyhow, we were living in this lovely street, well, it was lovely apart from this one little sod. Matthew Carter.”

I nodded, wondering where this trip of nostalgia was heading.

I mean real scum of the earth. Couldn’t hold down a job, too bone idle. Beat his wife up, she was young too. Little slip of a thing. Always drunk and having fights with strangers in the street. I broke one up once, which was a mistake because that set me firmly within his sights.”

What happened?”

He started by shouting abuse in the street. He and a mate jumped me on the way home from work once too. Luck for me I could defend myself, him and his mate ran away with their tails between their legs, I can tell you. He didn’t like that. A week later he put a brick through our window, missed your sister Sue by an inch, she was only a baby at the time too.”

Didn’t you call the police?”

Could do anything, unless they had proof and nobody would testify against him.”

That’s terrible.”

Aye. Then I found out he’d been dealing drugs…selling them to kids too..” he said trying stifle a yawn.

Maybe you should have a rest dad, tell me the rest of the story later.”

No, no,” he replied. “I need to get this out. Anyway I followed him one day, determined to get proof, photographic proof, so I could take it to the police. He went down an alleyway and this girl came up to him, she must have been about fifteen at the most. She had that emaciated look that druggies have. She was obviously trying to buy something from him, I heard him say that she didn’t have enough. She begged him for the stuff. He replied saying that there were other ways to pay for things.”

As the kids say, eww.”

Exactly. But she was made of stronger stuff that girl, she refused but Matthew decided to not take no for an answer. She stand a chance against him.”

I gasped. “Did he…?”

I didn’t give him the chance. There was an old tire iron someone had dumped, picked it up and hit him, again and again and again until there wasn’t much left of his head.”

I could feel my mouth drop open. Did my dad just confess to murder?

What about the girl?”

Bolted,” replied my dad, his voice fading a little. “Never saw her again. I kept waiting for the knock on the door from the police….”

His head drooped forwards. I quickly leapt forward to check his pulse. It was still beating steadily.

He emitted a small snore.

I sat back down heavily, accidentally knocking into his bedside table sending some things flying.

Automatically I picked them up placing them back on the table.

My dad’s a murderer? I can’t believe it. What should I do?

I picked the last item up. A book. The cover caught my eye. It was of a man holding a tire iron. I checked the back. It had a strangely familiar synopsis. It was pretty much the same story my dad had told me.

I couldn’t believe it, he’d just told me the plot line of the book he was reading. He’d been having me on this whole time, just like when I was a kid.

I bent over his bed and kissed him on the forehead.

You got me dad,” I whispered.

I swear he smiled in his sleep.