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Writing is Serious

September 07, 2016

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The Big Daft Dog.

The big daft dog, bounced and flounced into my life in 2002. My life, such as it was, was very different back then. But the big daft dog wasn’t, he was the same then as he was yesterday. Age had not withered him, he still loved to play, he still loved to bounce, he still loved to flounce. If I looked at him in a certain way he'd be off the couch and next to his lead reading my mind before I’d thought the thought. He knew me better than I knew myself, he knew me like a shadow knows a shape, he knew me better than anyone who’s ever met me, he was my best mate. He saw the highs, he saw the lows, he saw my deepest depths and my highest highs, he knew when I needed a cuddle or when I needed to play. The big daft dog wasn't so daft after all. We went through a lot together; there was a time, a dark time, when we lived in a car together, long winter nights sharing a blanket. He didn't complain he just kept me warm, all he wanted was to b

Publication Day!

It's here... John Rossett is back! Always an amazing feeling when a book goes on sale. Even though this is the third in the John Rossett series, I still get butterflies when I think about the road that has brought to where I am now. Losing everything, homelessness, scrabbling back to my feet, finally picking up a pen after forty odd years of thinking about it, and then HarperCollins publishing my first novel and giving John Rossett a platform to jump off. It's been one hell of a ride. I've a favor to ask though, and I don't ask it lightly. I need your help in spreading the word, so please, can you like and share this post for me? Let's tell the world about John Rossett, and help make An Army of One a success. Thank you all so much for your support. Much love. Tony

That Feeling.

That feeling, the pit of the stomach, when it goes up and keeps going up, even though the rest of you has started going down. She wasn’t expecting that, although, had she thought about it before the event, it was the least she could have expected. What else would happen when a 747 exploded, bucked, bounced then fell apart at 32000 feet? Not that she knew she was at 32000 feet when her stomach had flipped and woke her up, she’d been running on a beach with that fat old Labrador that used to live two doors down the street when she was a kid. In the dream she’d wondered why the fat old Labrador had shown up after all those years, maybe sixty years, since she’d last patted its head through the gap in the fence as she walked to school. As a kid she hadn’t even noticed that its wheezing squeaky nose wasn’t poking through when she’d gotten home that night, it was a detail too small for a frantic eight year old brain to notice, but there it had been in her sleep, running and panting, slo

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Writing is Serious

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