So you think we’re remotely interested?
It’s time to start pre-publicity for my next story release, but first: It was a busy weekend on Symi with the children’s dance show on Saturday, the school football team winning matches over on Rhodes (I think they are in the semi-finals now, but of what… you would have to ask a parent or football follower), and with the May 8th parade in Yialos, celebrating the end of WWII. The wind died down overnight Friday/Saturday and Sunday dawned clear, sunny and breeze-free – though cloud soon started to creep over.

But back to the next book. We are still working on the final edits/proof, but I have now had the proofs for the first eight chapters and the editor is doing a grand job. We’re cutting out some of the ‘dead wood’ and repetitions, something I find hard to do, and it’s tightening up the pace and chapters to give us a clear, comic read. I have still laughed out loud at least once in every chapter (where I am meant to) and have smiled quite a bit too. Contrary as it may sound, this is a good thing: if I can still make myself laugh at something I thought was funny after 18 months or so, then it must be as I intended it. Whether you will laugh or not… that’s another thing.

The title of the next book is, ‘Remotely‘ and it is a coming of age comedy. I am still working on the ‘blurb’ and book-back, but here’s what I came up with early on Sunday morning:
“Britain’s newest and most pointless TV talent competition is coming to Middlestone-on-Sea, a dying seaside backwater on the Kent coast. ‘So You Think We’re Remotely Interested?‘ has taken Friday night viewers by storm as it streams live variety shows from remote, provincial theatres across the country. The theatre with the most audience votes means regeneration and revival for the winning resort and Middlestone’s hopes rest on the shoulders of two ex-best friends, Gary (gay) and Stag (straight).
The visiting guest judge, the mysterious and timeless Miss P, knows that for all to be well, this friendship must be mended, but there is no success without trial. She magically swaps them into each other’s bodies with only four days to go before the live ‘Remotely’ grand finale. Gary now finds himself in the straight world of Stag and Stag finds himself dealing with Gary’s gay life and issues. Comedy ensues, mayhem happens, and the all-important finale draws near. But will the two boys learn enough about each other in time to heal their broken friendship and body-swap back and save the day?”

That’s a very rough opening synopsis and it’s not a full one of course, as I don’t want to give the ending away. It’s been great fun to write this one: putting opposing characters in each other’s bodies (which brings the challenge of making sure the reader knows that Gary, for example, is speaking/thinking while the other characters in the scene see him as Stag), coming up with the complications and reveals, and timing it all in to a believable timeline. There was also the fun to be poked at British television shows. I’ll leave you with a slightly censored example. All you need to know is that this scene takes place in Stag Hunter’s family kitchen: his dad, who swears a lot, his older brother Tod (only one ‘D’ because his dad is called Rod and Rod Hunter’s spelling isn’t very good) and Stag, are at breakfast, with Hunter reading the paper. This is also only a small part of that scene.
‘They call it reality television,’ Tod said. ‘It’s all that’s ever on.’
‘Reality s***e.’ Mr Hunter turned a page. ‘Here you go, this week’s telly line-up. “I’m A Celebrity Ancestor.” New show on Monday mornings. “I’m a has-been please help me pay for my coke habit” more like. Bunch of w*****s. What’s real about this? Look,’ he slapped the page as his two sons looked on over the rims of their coffee mugs. ‘They’s calling this one the next biggest show on telly: “Britain’s Got Brains”, a new quiz show. If Britain had brains it wouldn’t be watching this kind of s***e and paying a license for the privilege. You know,’ he was starting to roll, ‘I am so effing p****d off with the c**p they put on these days in the name of, what d’you call it? Reality TV. Pah! It’s just a bunch of spotty university toffs, sitting in telly-office-land, pretending they’re interesting, deciding what we watch and passing off an hour of cheap b******s and calling it entertainment.’
‘Yeah, but…’ Stag said.
‘Look at this!’ His dad’s eyes went wide as he stared at the paper. ‘Grand finale of “The Great British Oven Race”? Who the F wants to watch some hopeless ex-children’s telly presenter bake a f*****g muffin? D’you realise that half the country tunes in to watch some bloke – who we only heard of ‘cos he got caught in a shag-house in Balham hours after turning up drunk on Children In Need – to watch some bloke cry his eyes out because his fruit cake only scored six out of…’
[A bit later in the scene:]
‘Yes you are, Dad,’ Tod persisted. ‘You’re worried that if Middlestone wins there will be a film crew making shows from the theatre every week, and while they’re here they will film some other stuff. A documentary about the failing fishing boats of Middlestone, or what kind of people work from home in a seaside town and oh look!” There’s Rod Hunter getting paid to fix up cars, best tell the Social and bang, there goes my dad’s beer money. They could call that one, “Pop Idle”.’
‘Remotely’ should be available on Amazon and elsewhere within the next couple of months and I will let you know when you can pre-order your copy.














