Monsters #1 (Prologue. Part One.) Eighties racist hatred. Birds ‘n’ kids too.

I’ve ummed and ahhed about whether or not to upload this as is or to just re-record it, but I’m thinking I’m happy with what this is – my first attempt at a reading from ‘Monsters.’

My concerns are that it’s rough as all fuck and hardly up to the quality of an audiobook, but then even the act of doing something – even if it may be futile – is still very good for your mental health.

Continue reading “Monsters #1 (Prologue. Part One.) Eighties racist hatred. Birds ‘n’ kids too.”

Without Form and Void | Chapter 2 ‘Blue Green Rock’ | Audiobook

So I thought I’d have a go at this audiobook lark since authors are apparently supposed to play an active role in the promotion of their own work.

I’m considering recording the whole novel but as the rest of the story follows a more traditional narrative written from a woman’s perspective it might sound a bit odd drawled through a shit beard. This chapter here is more a fever dream anyway but what the hell, it’ll give people an idea of what to expect.

I’ve got a good feeling though. I mean it’s this kind of hands-on, can-do attitude that may actually sell a few more goddamn books. If, however, it doesn’t I may actually just rent a caravan on the shores of Loch Ness instead and skag mah wee heid into oblivion before going monster hunting with rocks in my pockets.*

Continue reading “Without Form and Void | Chapter 2 ‘Blue Green Rock’ | Audiobook”

Eight Stories in an Evening

I asked friends to give me a word each so I could build a story from three. It just seemed like a good idea because wine and I’m not saying these wee tales are any good but they made me feel good writing them and that was lovely, thank you. Written in six hours or so, so go easy.

 

SLUG SUGAR SWEAT

They called it a slug, you know, that round that goes in the gun or whatever. I called it a bullet and they all sniggered, sniggered at how I held it, how the sweat poured down my face as I aimed the cursed thing.

One thing’s for damned sure – ain’t no one gonna be callin’ me sugar no more.

 

Continue reading “Eight Stories in an Evening”

Tinder. A Sociopathic Short Story.

The photo showed a woman whose make-up struggled to cover the years, let alone the rest. She clung proudly to a rough looking teen I assumed was her son. The little treasure himself wore a glare that said, ‘Don’t you dare even think about fucking my mum.’

I swiped right.

Game on, ladies.

Without Form and Void

wfav blog lrg

Here we go again.

What began as All But One of Those Lights in the Sky are Dead and very nearly became Fucking Danish Girls sorted itself out once I’d started pretending to be an unhinged lesbian living in the future. I hope it’s as enjoyable to read as it was to write.

Paperback out now; eBook too (with dodgy looking preview—cheers, Amazon.)

Thanks for reading xX

Halvtreds

Halvtreds
Halvtreds means Fifty in Danish.

It’s Dave’s birthday tomorrow and there’s a cunningly subtle clue in the title of his latest work as to his age. Since editing poetry is like fashioning a ladder out of live cockroaches, this is pure Dave, his own unadulterated pure self. I just made it look pretty.

If you haven’t already, check out his Facebook page.

Halvtreds and his previous three novels are all available here.

Thanks for stopping by xX

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