Zakarrie Clarke's Blog: Wafflish..., page 4
October 9, 2018
October 5, 2018
October 2, 2018
Hangover and Halloween 🎃
Happy October! 🎃
Hangover is Out... Release day feels a mite akin to the moment after you leap from a plane. The freefall part, before you know whether the pesky parachute will open. Or not. It might even be worse, because you wouldn't have to worry about that for long. A few minutes is a very lot less than months of mithering yourself half daft about what tomorrow might bring—or not—on accounts of being a tad dead, an' all.
Having never bestirred m'self to step from an aircraft mid-flight, I can't vouch for the authenticity of said simile. Let's call it a guess. I have p'raps careered downhill in a shopping trolley while squished into the kiddie seat, which might've got a bit sticky had I crashed. I was p'raps too tipsy to care a toot for consequence at the time so, I can't, in all good conscience, claim it as a feat of daring-dos.
I was not the slightest sozzled when I deemed it a mighty fine plan to submit Hangover from Hell to a publisher. I just thought 'oh, why not indeedy.' I'm strangely sure those will be my very last words afore I pop my clogs. Oddly 'nuff. It's much easier to muster 'bravery' when you don't know what the bejeezus you're letting yourself in for. So, it might be less terrifying to leap from the aforementioned plane for the first time, rather than the second. Being a wee bit oblivious is a splendid boon on the fretting front, cos you can't indulge in a fully informed flap.
Ignorance might not be bliss, but it's way more comfy. When you know full well how it feels to plunge to your possible doom, you have to pull up your big boy pants a helluva lot higher. Until they can multi-task as a scarf - or snood - is about your best bet.
Quite where I was going with this, is anyone's guess. A spookily familiar state of affairs, it must be admitted, which might explain why I feel as if I've sat m'self down in the stocks and invited peeps to pelt me with past-its-sell-by-date produce. Scary? Halloween has nothing on this.
Oh, there y'go. I got somewhere in the end. Somehow. If you squint a bit, with a very kindly eye...
🎃🎃🎃
Hangover is Out... Release day feels a mite akin to the moment after you leap from a plane. The freefall part, before you know whether the pesky parachute will open. Or not. It might even be worse, because you wouldn't have to worry about that for long. A few minutes is a very lot less than months of mithering yourself half daft about what tomorrow might bring—or not—on accounts of being a tad dead, an' all.
Having never bestirred m'self to step from an aircraft mid-flight, I can't vouch for the authenticity of said simile. Let's call it a guess. I have p'raps careered downhill in a shopping trolley while squished into the kiddie seat, which might've got a bit sticky had I crashed. I was p'raps too tipsy to care a toot for consequence at the time so, I can't, in all good conscience, claim it as a feat of daring-dos.
I was not the slightest sozzled when I deemed it a mighty fine plan to submit Hangover from Hell to a publisher. I just thought 'oh, why not indeedy.' I'm strangely sure those will be my very last words afore I pop my clogs. Oddly 'nuff. It's much easier to muster 'bravery' when you don't know what the bejeezus you're letting yourself in for. So, it might be less terrifying to leap from the aforementioned plane for the first time, rather than the second. Being a wee bit oblivious is a splendid boon on the fretting front, cos you can't indulge in a fully informed flap.
Ignorance might not be bliss, but it's way more comfy. When you know full well how it feels to plunge to your possible doom, you have to pull up your big boy pants a helluva lot higher. Until they can multi-task as a scarf - or snood - is about your best bet.
Quite where I was going with this, is anyone's guess. A spookily familiar state of affairs, it must be admitted, which might explain why I feel as if I've sat m'self down in the stocks and invited peeps to pelt me with past-its-sell-by-date produce. Scary? Halloween has nothing on this.
Oh, there y'go. I got somewhere in the end. Somehow. If you squint a bit, with a very kindly eye...
🎃🎃🎃
September 30, 2018
Hangover and Out..now
Hiya,
Hangover#2 has been released by MLR Press. Hangover and Out
I'm chuffed to bits. I really hope you enjoy it.
Here's an excerpt if you wish to read it...
Hangover and Out
Chapter One
Callum
The most godawful racket accosted Callum’s eardrums, snatching him from a sodden slumber. Fuck. Reluctantly prising his lids apart, he groaned when a shaft of sunlight promptly scorched his eyeballs. The assault on his senses did, at least, seem to be coming from outside his head, rather than in it, which was always a plus–but showed no signs of abating any time soon–which was not. Daniel was blissfully oblivious, lost to his world of dreams, a beatific smile playing upon his cherub pout.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT. F’fucksakes�With a grunt of disgust, Cal tossed back the duvet and half-fell off the bed in his unadvisable bid to scramble out of it. Visitors, before three morning cuppas, and their accompanying smokes, were about as welcome a prospect as piles. Callum was, quite possibly, wearing what Dan called ‘the scary glare� when he scooped his bathrobe off the floor and shrugged it on while staggering down the spiral stairs. The bloody knocking grew ever more insistent, so Cal was more than a mite miffy by the time he’d descended the second set and stomped to the front door to yank it open.
“Good morning. I have a delivery for Messrs Carter and Flynn,� breezed the far too cheery for-this-time-of-the-morning florist. Talk about stating the bloomin� obvious. The owner of those dulcet tones was hidden behind the biggest embarrassment of a bouquet Callum had ever seen in his goddamn life. “I have some more in the van for you, if you’ll just sign for these,� she trilled.
Ѵǰ�? Cal hadn’t even begun to get his head around that, when it belatedly dawned on him that the florist was not alone on the doorstep. The assault of flora and fauna had blotted out the sunlight, let alone the press pack jostling for position behind it.
“CALLUM!! Caal! How d’you feel this morning?�
Oh Christ…Pissed off.
“How’s it feel to be back home? Are you enjoying life as a married man?�
Bloody Irritating. I had temporarily forgotten; awoken as I was by your fucking racket and a rainforest on my doorstep. Cal didn’t actually say any of that aloud. He did think it very loudly though.
“Where’s Daniel? Was he okay after you socked him one? How’s he finding married life?�
“In bed. Yeah, he’s fine…� Cal sighed. Stone the soddin� crows…and all the journalists. At least, there were only about half a dozen today. The poor florist, however, appeared to be wilting beneath suffocation by cellophane and the onslaught of cretinous questions, so Callum attempted a somewhat creaky smile of gratitude and relieved her of the flowers. “There’s more?� he asked incredulously. She nodded, teeth glinting in a scary ‘isn’t it delightful, dear� smile. No, it really wasn’t. Not before a morning cuppa and a smoke.
“Gents, please make yourselves useful and help the lady with the flowers…while I attempt to muster up a few marbles with which to answer your questions.� Two crows with one stone. Not bad for stupid o’clock, on the whole.
The next few minutes might have been highly entertaining, had Cal been in the mood to watch the Carry-On floristry chain-gang rustle up the Attack of the Triffids on the doorstep. He was not. Oddly ’nuff. He did wish Daniel hadn’t missed out though, because his deadly beloved would have been tickled pink by the parade of press that began to trundle up the path, laden with bouquets and bobbing balloons emblazoned with Just Married.
“Goood Mornin�!�
Oh hell. Cal rolled his eyes upwards. Daniel’s face was grinning out of the studio window, waving merrily (his face wasn’t waving, the hand wafting cigarette smoke Cal’s way was).
“Dan! Toss the packet down, for chrissakes!�
“‘Kay!� His tufty head vanished for a few seconds, then reappeared alongside the cigarettes that came sailing out of the window…to land not far from Cal’s feet. Dan was a damn good shot. Callum bent to retrieve the packet, just as the lighter bounced off his head. Of course. This was the day that just kept giving…Cal a bloody headache. “Ooops! Sorry!�
“Daniel! How are you this morning? How’s your lip? How’s married life?� Hollered a hack.
“Bloody brilliant, I’m very well, thank you. ‘Twas my own fault, for sticking my face in front of a flying fist. ‘Tis never the most circumspect of decisions, oddly ’nuff.� Daniel breezed, a wide grin stretching his scabby lip to splitting point. Worse still, there was a huge fucking love bite decorating his neck. Virulent violet. With flashing fairy lights around it…and a ‘look at me� signpost.
The bouquet bearer of bad tidings chose this moment to thrust a clipboard Cal’s way, so he grimly signed for the flowers while she thanked the ‘gentlemen� of the press for their assistance. You really couldn’t make this up. His life was ludicrous. Callum shoved a cigarette in his mouth and lit it before inhaling deeply. Aah…thank fuck for small mercies.
“Cal! So how’s married life? It sure looks all right from where I’m standing.� The journalist glanced pointedly at Daniel, still grinning out of the window, resplendently splotched and scabby. He resembled one of his own self-portraits.
“It is bloody brilliant actually,� Cal found himself confessing as he turned back to his inquisitors.
“What do your bandmates think of it all? Did they know you were together?� The hack asked, with leering emphasis on the last word.
“They are fine. Yes, they knew,� Cal ground out through gritted teeth.
“Had you already come out to your family, Callum? Was your record company aware you’re gay? Your manager?�
Grrrrrr. Cal clamped his lids shut and dragged in a jagged breath. He could still see their huge-ass birdbath, emblazoned upon the back of his eyelids. It would look so much better imprinted on the back of the bastard’s head.
“Yes. They all knew we were together,� Cal informed him, before incomprehensibly spewing a shit-for-brains word salad he had no recollection whatsoever of deciding to unleash. “Why the hell are you so obsessed with slapping labels on everyone? I fell in love with Daniel. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was a man, woman or Martian, okay? I am so done…I have some flowers to shove in a bucket. Is that gay enough for you?�
“Callum, you know they’ll look delightful in the pink Waterford crystal, dahling.�
Oh…for crying out loud� Cal snapped his head around to spear his husband with a death stare.
“Daniel. I am going to kill you when I get up there, you demon.�
“Oooooh…� he purred. “I’m off to sharpen your blade.�
Callum gaped, agog. What the fuck!? Daniel just winked. Much to his chagrin, Cal spluttered out a snort of laughter. Dan beamed and blew Cal a kiss before his soot-brush head vanished. Rolling his eyes in rueful resignation, Callum turned to face the firing squad. Or…not. They all looked more likely to start taking bets and sporting team colours as they cackled away, cameras whirring furiously.
“I never had a hope in hell,� Cal muttered. “Right, you lot, I’m off� I have a husband to stab to death.� He smirked. Evilly. If you can’t beat ’em�The world was teeming with bloody nutters�
Hangover#2 has been released by MLR Press. Hangover and Out
I'm chuffed to bits. I really hope you enjoy it.
Here's an excerpt if you wish to read it...
Hangover and Out
Chapter One
Callum
The most godawful racket accosted Callum’s eardrums, snatching him from a sodden slumber. Fuck. Reluctantly prising his lids apart, he groaned when a shaft of sunlight promptly scorched his eyeballs. The assault on his senses did, at least, seem to be coming from outside his head, rather than in it, which was always a plus–but showed no signs of abating any time soon–which was not. Daniel was blissfully oblivious, lost to his world of dreams, a beatific smile playing upon his cherub pout.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT. F’fucksakes�With a grunt of disgust, Cal tossed back the duvet and half-fell off the bed in his unadvisable bid to scramble out of it. Visitors, before three morning cuppas, and their accompanying smokes, were about as welcome a prospect as piles. Callum was, quite possibly, wearing what Dan called ‘the scary glare� when he scooped his bathrobe off the floor and shrugged it on while staggering down the spiral stairs. The bloody knocking grew ever more insistent, so Cal was more than a mite miffy by the time he’d descended the second set and stomped to the front door to yank it open.
“Good morning. I have a delivery for Messrs Carter and Flynn,� breezed the far too cheery for-this-time-of-the-morning florist. Talk about stating the bloomin� obvious. The owner of those dulcet tones was hidden behind the biggest embarrassment of a bouquet Callum had ever seen in his goddamn life. “I have some more in the van for you, if you’ll just sign for these,� she trilled.
Ѵǰ�? Cal hadn’t even begun to get his head around that, when it belatedly dawned on him that the florist was not alone on the doorstep. The assault of flora and fauna had blotted out the sunlight, let alone the press pack jostling for position behind it.
“CALLUM!! Caal! How d’you feel this morning?�
Oh Christ…Pissed off.
“How’s it feel to be back home? Are you enjoying life as a married man?�
Bloody Irritating. I had temporarily forgotten; awoken as I was by your fucking racket and a rainforest on my doorstep. Cal didn’t actually say any of that aloud. He did think it very loudly though.
“Where’s Daniel? Was he okay after you socked him one? How’s he finding married life?�
“In bed. Yeah, he’s fine…� Cal sighed. Stone the soddin� crows…and all the journalists. At least, there were only about half a dozen today. The poor florist, however, appeared to be wilting beneath suffocation by cellophane and the onslaught of cretinous questions, so Callum attempted a somewhat creaky smile of gratitude and relieved her of the flowers. “There’s more?� he asked incredulously. She nodded, teeth glinting in a scary ‘isn’t it delightful, dear� smile. No, it really wasn’t. Not before a morning cuppa and a smoke.
“Gents, please make yourselves useful and help the lady with the flowers…while I attempt to muster up a few marbles with which to answer your questions.� Two crows with one stone. Not bad for stupid o’clock, on the whole.
The next few minutes might have been highly entertaining, had Cal been in the mood to watch the Carry-On floristry chain-gang rustle up the Attack of the Triffids on the doorstep. He was not. Oddly ’nuff. He did wish Daniel hadn’t missed out though, because his deadly beloved would have been tickled pink by the parade of press that began to trundle up the path, laden with bouquets and bobbing balloons emblazoned with Just Married.
“Goood Mornin�!�
Oh hell. Cal rolled his eyes upwards. Daniel’s face was grinning out of the studio window, waving merrily (his face wasn’t waving, the hand wafting cigarette smoke Cal’s way was).
“Dan! Toss the packet down, for chrissakes!�
“‘Kay!� His tufty head vanished for a few seconds, then reappeared alongside the cigarettes that came sailing out of the window…to land not far from Cal’s feet. Dan was a damn good shot. Callum bent to retrieve the packet, just as the lighter bounced off his head. Of course. This was the day that just kept giving…Cal a bloody headache. “Ooops! Sorry!�
“Daniel! How are you this morning? How’s your lip? How’s married life?� Hollered a hack.
“Bloody brilliant, I’m very well, thank you. ‘Twas my own fault, for sticking my face in front of a flying fist. ‘Tis never the most circumspect of decisions, oddly ’nuff.� Daniel breezed, a wide grin stretching his scabby lip to splitting point. Worse still, there was a huge fucking love bite decorating his neck. Virulent violet. With flashing fairy lights around it…and a ‘look at me� signpost.
The bouquet bearer of bad tidings chose this moment to thrust a clipboard Cal’s way, so he grimly signed for the flowers while she thanked the ‘gentlemen� of the press for their assistance. You really couldn’t make this up. His life was ludicrous. Callum shoved a cigarette in his mouth and lit it before inhaling deeply. Aah…thank fuck for small mercies.
“Cal! So how’s married life? It sure looks all right from where I’m standing.� The journalist glanced pointedly at Daniel, still grinning out of the window, resplendently splotched and scabby. He resembled one of his own self-portraits.
“It is bloody brilliant actually,� Cal found himself confessing as he turned back to his inquisitors.
“What do your bandmates think of it all? Did they know you were together?� The hack asked, with leering emphasis on the last word.
“They are fine. Yes, they knew,� Cal ground out through gritted teeth.
“Had you already come out to your family, Callum? Was your record company aware you’re gay? Your manager?�
Grrrrrr. Cal clamped his lids shut and dragged in a jagged breath. He could still see their huge-ass birdbath, emblazoned upon the back of his eyelids. It would look so much better imprinted on the back of the bastard’s head.
“Yes. They all knew we were together,� Cal informed him, before incomprehensibly spewing a shit-for-brains word salad he had no recollection whatsoever of deciding to unleash. “Why the hell are you so obsessed with slapping labels on everyone? I fell in love with Daniel. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was a man, woman or Martian, okay? I am so done…I have some flowers to shove in a bucket. Is that gay enough for you?�
“Callum, you know they’ll look delightful in the pink Waterford crystal, dahling.�
Oh…for crying out loud� Cal snapped his head around to spear his husband with a death stare.
“Daniel. I am going to kill you when I get up there, you demon.�
“Oooooh…� he purred. “I’m off to sharpen your blade.�
Callum gaped, agog. What the fuck!? Daniel just winked. Much to his chagrin, Cal spluttered out a snort of laughter. Dan beamed and blew Cal a kiss before his soot-brush head vanished. Rolling his eyes in rueful resignation, Callum turned to face the firing squad. Or…not. They all looked more likely to start taking bets and sporting team colours as they cackled away, cameras whirring furiously.
“I never had a hope in hell,� Cal muttered. “Right, you lot, I’m off� I have a husband to stab to death.� He smirked. Evilly. If you can’t beat ’em�The world was teeming with bloody nutters�
September 26, 2018
Hangover and Out
❤🧡�
Hangover #2 will be out on Friday. In the meantime, here's an excerpt...
❤🧡�
September 20, 2018
September 16, 2018
Hangover and OUT on 28.9.18
Hangover and Out (Hangover #2) will be released on 28th September... 😊
September 2, 2018
Interview & Giveaway
Hiya,
I've done an interview on author J.Scott Coatsworth's website, if you wish to read it.
❤🧡�
I've done an interview on author J.Scott Coatsworth's website, if you wish to read it.
❤🧡�
August 28, 2018
Hangover and Out
Hiya,
Hangover and Out is off being formatted as I write, so I should have a release date soon. In the meantime, here is the blurb:
Hangover and Out
Callum and Daniel have flown home to face the music, management, press and public after waking in Vegas with a Hangover for life and very much Out. Cal has finally allowed himself to snatch the fate he craved more than he can permit its consequences to count; even a future beond his control and his ability to safeguard it. Whether Callum can now survive the wrath of the-world-and-his-wife, Paul's proclamations of doom and the mind-boggling dexterity of the hellfire tongue, unleashed? Is quite another story...
***
The contract is signed for my next novel 'Darkness Dawns', and I've sent the final draft of my stand-alone Christmas story to my editor. 'Twill be entitled 'Full O'Festive Spirits'.
While those are being edited, I'll get to work polishing up Hangover #3 for submission, afore focusing on the concluding part of Darkness Dawns. All o'which should keep me out of mischief for a wee while, mehopes...
***
Hangover and Out is off being formatted as I write, so I should have a release date soon. In the meantime, here is the blurb:
Hangover and Out
Callum and Daniel have flown home to face the music, management, press and public after waking in Vegas with a Hangover for life and very much Out. Cal has finally allowed himself to snatch the fate he craved more than he can permit its consequences to count; even a future beond his control and his ability to safeguard it. Whether Callum can now survive the wrath of the-world-and-his-wife, Paul's proclamations of doom and the mind-boggling dexterity of the hellfire tongue, unleashed? Is quite another story...
***
The contract is signed for my next novel 'Darkness Dawns', and I've sent the final draft of my stand-alone Christmas story to my editor. 'Twill be entitled 'Full O'Festive Spirits'.
While those are being edited, I'll get to work polishing up Hangover #3 for submission, afore focusing on the concluding part of Darkness Dawns. All o'which should keep me out of mischief for a wee while, mehopes...
***
August 10, 2018
A Hat-trick of Happy
Hiya, I hope you're having a splendiferous summer.
🌞
I had the bestest news last night. A couple of blog posts ago, I mentioned a story I'd written about a blind man named Leo; much miffed with the world and hell-bent on shutting himself off from it. A cunning plan that is an itty bit derailed by the new care assistant he's sent by Social Services. I submitted it to the angel misfortunate 'nuff to be my editor a few weeks ago...and it was accepted for publication yesterday.
Having waffled for 80 chapters (and an epilogue), I feared that might be something of a slog to trawl through, so I've split it into two parts.
The first of these; Darkness Dawns, introduces us to Leo & Ben, and our heroes to one another. It focuses on the impact of their meeting and follows their first few days together. The sequel will detail Ben's efforts to 'give Leo the world'. Literally.
I really hope t'will be worth a read. Although it is the story of two men brought together by bitter consequence, t'is not a jot grim, I promise. It is, quite possibly, just as daft as Hangover in its own way. Oddly 'nuff.
All edits on Hangover & Out (#2) are now done 'n' dusted and it has now gone off to be proof read. After which, it will only have to be formatted for release.
Lastily, I've polished up the final draft of my novella, 'Full o'Festive Spirits'. We'll soon be starting work on readying that for a Christmas release. So, there you go. Three new novels in the pipeline; a hat trick of happy indeedy. 😊
🌞
I had the bestest news last night. A couple of blog posts ago, I mentioned a story I'd written about a blind man named Leo; much miffed with the world and hell-bent on shutting himself off from it. A cunning plan that is an itty bit derailed by the new care assistant he's sent by Social Services. I submitted it to the angel misfortunate 'nuff to be my editor a few weeks ago...and it was accepted for publication yesterday.
Having waffled for 80 chapters (and an epilogue), I feared that might be something of a slog to trawl through, so I've split it into two parts.
The first of these; Darkness Dawns, introduces us to Leo & Ben, and our heroes to one another. It focuses on the impact of their meeting and follows their first few days together. The sequel will detail Ben's efforts to 'give Leo the world'. Literally.
I really hope t'will be worth a read. Although it is the story of two men brought together by bitter consequence, t'is not a jot grim, I promise. It is, quite possibly, just as daft as Hangover in its own way. Oddly 'nuff.
All edits on Hangover & Out (#2) are now done 'n' dusted and it has now gone off to be proof read. After which, it will only have to be formatted for release.
Lastily, I've polished up the final draft of my novella, 'Full o'Festive Spirits'. We'll soon be starting work on readying that for a Christmas release. So, there you go. Three new novels in the pipeline; a hat trick of happy indeedy. 😊
