"It's a bag of bollocks," said Rob, as he put down the last page..

It probably wouldn't have hurt so much if it were a poem, or a short story, something that I hadn't been working on for.. well.. ever! No. Who am I kidding. It hurt like hell, and it would have hurt like hell whether it was the novel I've been working on for the previous four years or a note I'd just written for the milkman, and for a few hours after that incident I seriously considered ditching my writing, my friend - possibly both.

Then the morning came. And as I read through the manuscript I began to realise there was every chance that Rob was.. right - goddam it!

That was a couple of years ago, and since then I've been working hard to remove said bollocks from my work. Have I succeeded? I sincerely hope so because several thousand words have been carefully laid one after another since then, and whilst I'll admit that one or two of them might be at a jaunty angle, or don't quite fit, I'd still like to think that I haven't been entirely wasting my time.

Don't take my word for it of course - see for yourself. You'll find the first three chapters on this website (here, here and here), and as ever I'd value any comments you might have. "Bag of bollocks" or otherwise.

Thanks for visiting

Peter
September 2009

Liz. Where do I start?
I suppose the end is as good a place as any.

Yes, I broke up with her.
Right after that first date I gave serious thought about the prospect of a relationship with Liz, and quickly concluded it was never going to work.

And five years later, I finally got around to telling her.

click here to read this chapter in it's entirety

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