JOHN-J ANDERSON

Nothing Happens at home.  No demands or job descriptions. No mandatory interactions or ceremonies. My home is a place where warmth is the hourly rate and comfort is my job. I can read books in silence. I can write epic stories no-one will ever read. My home is the place I can discover my real self.  My home is the place I can be the strongest man in the universe or the bubbliest man in the tub. I can cuddle my cat and tell her she's loved now. I can watch my turtles swim in silent sploshes. My home is full of things I can eat, without ever checking the labels. My home is the place my family can always find me, it's my lighthouse when life's a storm. I can lose myself in a record. I can sit quietly at my desk. My home is the place I will always be missing. My home is the centre of the universe. I can forget that all else exists. By John-J Anderson

I can hear the heating kicking in, its a cold February morning. Tanya has just left for work with half a day ahead of her. The cat is nestled into a cute little ball on her tree and Wheezy Waiter is recapping some of his videos on the telly. Its a slow start, I got up late much to my dismay and chose a black coffee. It might be a day of once more planning to get my habits in order and organise a routine that might never make it out of the day.  But that isn't what I want to talk about today, because that is boring and everyone has boring shite going on. Why would you come to some writers blog and read about his boring routine when you have your own? Yesterday I wrote four and a half pages of work for Bulldog 3, I then read them back and hated every premise I was building for the ending chapters of Franks story. So I deleted them all and started again. I felt better deleting it then I did writing them, which is a new feeling for me and I wanted to investigate that. This idea that ki...

Wednesday, the final day off before my work week begins again. Got lots on my mind today so lets get this all going before I spin out in uncoordinated madness. I wanted to discuss some quick topics that are floating around inside my aging skull, starting with my writing projects. Bulldog 3 is taking very real shape, the Frank chapters have been coming along at a rate I was not expecting and with the addition of a new character, the fire has been stoked. With the waking realisation that this book will be the closing chapter in the series, I find myself excited to get this done. Bulldog started as a side project, just a short story based on a nightmare I had one restless evening, but as often these stories do, it grew legs and climbed from the grave to disturb my calendar. Now I am looking at over a year into this project and the third book approaching its final draft. I have loved writing this series, I have loved the characters and the horror. But I will not be sad to see this finished...