I Must be Mad

Firstly, I would love to reveal why I write the way I do. Now, you won’t be taken by surprise upon discovering that I have had absolute zero formal training in creative writing. No fancy certificates or prestigious letters following my moniker.  If I were foolhardy enough to submit a composition to Lancaster University, they would no doubt certify me as clinically insane and call for the men in white coats to cart me off to the nuthouse.

As I mentioned in the previous chapter it was my discontent at not having a ‘pot to piss in’ that was the driving force which galvanised me into reinventing myself as an author. I have been banging away on my old laptop keyboard ever since that gutsy decision many years back but still haven’t got my hands on any brass. At least I have a pipedream in my heart I suppose.

Anyhow, by supplying you with an insight into how my madcap thoughts end up in black and white I am hoping that it furnishes you with a deeper understanding of what makes me tick, and why my scribble is the way it is. Fingers crossed these revelations will make for a more rewarding and pleasurable read.

Well, my fellow “Rock n Roll Star” you will have surely spotted a “Supermassive Black Hole” full of musical references scattered amid my work. Why, do you include so many, you Muse?  Well, I have freaked out, headbanged, pogoed and foot tapped throughout my music-mad life.  And after stepping in dog shite my moonwalk is second to none. However, I have never attempted breakdancing, robotics, or God-forbid, body slamming in a thrash metal mosh pit. And nothing, not even a sexy cowgirl in tight blue jeans, wearing a tartan shirt with the top three buttons undone would get me to take up bloody line dancing. I would be blind to her ‘come and get me goo goo eyes and her ‘kiss me quick’ gob because “I would do Anything for Love, but I Won’t do That”

I am ashamed to admit that on one occasion when I was sloshed, I put everything in out in out and shook it all about doing the hokey-cokey. I also did something similar later that evening with my then girlfriend my one-track mind recollects. I recall waking up the following day feeling like shit. I had a terrible drunkover – I didn’t know whether I was still drunk or just hungover. “Ha-Ha Said the Clown.”

It is plain to see that I am a music head and my skull “Just Can’t Get Enough” of that shit-kicking music. I get my “Teenage Kicks” by sliding in subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle music connections throughout my scrawl. Even the book title and the chapters are named after songs. “I Must be Mad.”

Fortunately, the feedback from book one sings my praises with many readers trumpeting that they loved the bop down musical memory lane. Some even banged the drums pleading for more to be included in book two. They won’t be disappointed.

I write straight from my heart as I bare my soul. I feel that I am writing just for you. I picture myself as a wandering storyteller sitting with you besides a campfire on a jet-black starless night. The heat from the glowing embers, the crackling of the burning wood and the smell of smoke make for the perfect backdrop as the tale begins. I focus on the tiny orange flames flickering on your captivated eyeballs as the magical journey transports you to another world.

There are dark morbid moments of terror and despair causing an icy shiver to creep up your spine. You shudder and look away noticing that the firelight has painted a nightmare of red and yellow twisting monsters wickedly dancing on the nearby black tree trunks. You start to panic worrying that the mushrooms we foraged and ate earlier were hallucinogenic.

A split-second later you are sitting pretty in a fantastic wonderland that vibrates with happiness and love. When you stare back to the trees you see twinkling golden angels sparkling with magic and joy. You gaze back into the fire as your blissful thoughts are carried up to heaven along with the twirls of dark smoke. A wise smile covers your radiant face because you now know that the ‘trip of life’ is all in the mind.

So, that is a specimen of my dreamy descriptive penmanship but at other times I will knock you flat-out by pulling no punches in moments of anger and pain. There will be words of wisdom and spiritual insights as I dive deep into my soul seeking enlightenment. Expect several anecdotes concerning my vegan lifestyle and animal rights beliefs. Add to the mix, shit loads of obscure slang, quirky idioms, outlandish jokes, colourful profanities, and titillating innuendos.

Surprisingly, this chaotic jumble of “Bits and Pieces” seems to “Come Together” like a completed jigsaw puzzle. Readers reportedly love it, gushing that they feel “Glad All Over” because it is real and unique. It is probably a good thing I never studied creative writing after all. isn’t it?