Last night it rained so hard the fish were jumping out the river to get wet and ‘Chancellor’ GB was wishing he never jumped at all at the offer to zoom-time GWC. The motley crew assembled barely looked up from grooming their cats (not a euphemism) and it was a coin toss as to whether they’d shoot him or go back to sleep. GB knew he had to grab his audience fast and hard or it would be him ending up sleeping with the fishes. I’ve only got 3 pieces of advice for you, he snarled, but you’re gonna have to stick around like a bad smell if you wanna score from this one-armed bandit. Mhairi (The Accountant) Gilchrist narrowed her eyes, counted his arms, divided by two and seemed satisfied with the remainder. There were a few raised eyebrows and a mumbled wisecrack from the Big Palooka Pettigrew herself but no one walked out on the gumshoe from Simshill. With 8 novels and a lifetime of bottled support from Tenants, GB’s credentials were enough to get his size 10’s stuck in the door. Only time would tell whether his little piggies would get hammered or not.
Bloody Scotland! cried GB, raising a few suspicions looks from GWC members. Jim (The Phone) Daisley raised his head from his meatball dinner to throw a steely look GB’s way like a sock on the jaw. Reeling but not down for the count GB added, I’m talking about the self-promoting festival for crime-writers. Forget your establishment publishers. You wanna make a name for yourself in the writing world then you’re gonna have to roll up your sleeves and get stuck in yourself. GB explained that the Big Cheese Publishers will only promote you for so long before brushing you aside like a fat canary and moving on to the next guy. And as for the Small Potato Publishers they didn’t even have the resources to deep fry a Mars bar.
There was growing unrest in the cyber room. GB may have been telling it like it is but that’s not what they wanted to hear. NEVER STOP WRITING. That’s rule number 1, announced GB. He could see that while he may not have their undivided attention, no one had stated shooting at him – always a good sign. It’s all about timing. You never know when a a book will take off. So if you keep churning them out like cannoli and if you’re lucky you might NOT have to shoot a police captain to get your just rewards. The curtailment of her 2nd amendment rights may have annoyed Big Mags, who shot a forlorn look at the familiar bulge in her knitting bag, but she let it slide this time.
GB sensed he was losing them again so he thought he better throw in a sweetener for his second tip. WRITE ABOUT WHAT YOU ENJOY. Designer Grahame, the data manipulator, smiled at the suggestion with every lip on his face. GB knew he had them now. Like stealing milk from a baby. Even if its rubbish! GB gave a pointed look Morris the Moose. You can always learn something from your mistakes. The other GWC members all started nodding and one or two even started pointing their guns at The Moose, who unsuccessfully tried to slip down out of screenshot while claiming he had a sound problem.
He should have quit while he was ahead but GB always took things one step too far. SET YOURSELF A TARGET – 2000 WORDS A DAY. Well you could have dropped a barrel load of pins and heard them all (unless you were Morris the Moose). Telling a bunch of freeloading hacks that the key to success was hard work was always the mother of bad ideas. GB glanced at the door. If he could just distract them long enough with a quick question and answer session he could still make it back to Spain where he could relax on the beach, sipping margaritas and earning 20% a day on his Lee Child impressions. It was touch and go for a moment but a 50 word character building exercise clinched the deal and GB escaped the zoom meeting intact. Half a dozen margaritas later GB allowed himself a wry smile as his latest book began to sprawl across the page, inspired by the motley crew of GWC!
Next meeting is on 8th December – A Social Writing Group night featuring the adjudication of competition 1 plus GWC members are encouraged to read out Chrismassy stories, poems and flash fiction.
Ho Hum, onwards and upwards