Taking comfort in chaos.

I don't know about you guys, but even today, I have this romantic image in my head of the British Writer.

They wander, diverted by writers block around their Notting Hill townhouse (Hollywood seems to think we all live like that, along with a piano and a pushbike in the hallway...I should be so lucky!). Their top-flight agent always on the phone to them, demanding a submission date for their manuscript. Craving creative inspiration, the besieged author, now dressed like a librarian flees their home, laptop and notebook in their arms to seek like minded humans in leafy laned cafes, where creatives tend to muster if only to flood their Instagram and Tik Tok with easy on the eye images of them hard at work creating the next big thing...

What a load of bollocks.

Let me tell you about this British Writer. I'm sat in the spare bedroom of a former council house in Portsmouth, writing this piece because of writers block. I never thought I would ever get it, after all, I'm working on my Twelfth novel. I have 'Robert aged two' sketches on my notepad, battle scenes with matchstick men and arrows scribbled all over, so I don't confuse myself with my own fictional gunfight.

I've got Alexa playing classical music, no particular reason, I just happen to like it. I have it quiet loud since I have no fear of my agent calling me demanding my manuscript because he is dead. My dear friend and agent Steven Smith died from Cancer some time ago... so as of this moment, I'm self publishing.

Agents I've approached appear not to find 1940s wartime fiction appealing. Extreme violence, racism, genocide, ethnic cleansing, homophobia, xenophobia, sexual violence, misogyny...why bother reading the Bible when you can just read a World War Two novel instead?

When I've got a good rhythm going, but need a toilet break, my cat takes it upon himself to edit my work in my absence...twat!

My daughter, now blessed with a 5-month old asks if I can have her whilst she runs errands. If I say yes, productivity and progress with the manuscript ceases.

My son, late for college because the bellend decided to game all night now needs a lift or he'll be late.

Cat has vet appointment shortly.

Food shopping needs doing.

Dinner needs cooking.

Disclaimer...my good lady wife works very hard so that I may sit at home and do what I love. I am blessed.

In summary, writing isn't all about sitting in cafes with the bustle of first world issues rippling through (I've tried writing in a Costa...noisy sods! How on earth anyone else armed with a laptop gets any work done is beyond me!)

Writing is hard work, especially with a family and a house to run. Ask any of the big names out there, and they will tell you the same thing. I'm sure even today, Stephen King and JK Rowling get broadsided with first world family dramas whilst biting their lip as they fight their way to the end of a manuscript.

Rant over...thank you for reading. Also, if you happen to know a Literary Agent that isn't too woke or squeamish to back an Historical Fiction Writer, please put in a good word for me. Thank you.

Oh...one more thing...Fuck You Cancer!