Thoughts and scribblings of an overactive mind.



Well, here we are again. First of January 2013 was the last time I posted on here, three and a half years ago. And look at what I’m going on about! Change! I’m going to change, blah blah, I mean it, blah blah.

What a load of bleeding old rubbish! 

For those who haven’t been in my life, I’ll fill you in. I haven’t change. I’m still the dictionary definition of procrastination and the poster boy for never seeing anything through. Okay, I’m older, I have a few grey hairs now (less than 5% of the total my hairdresser tells me, so no need to reach for the Grecian 2000 just yet), I own a house and I’m married. But the core of who I am: exactly the same.

This does irritate me, because I do want to improve. I really do get cross with myself, I get really hacked off sometimes because I tell you what, the amount of epiphanies and “shit’s gunna get sorted now” moments that I’ve had and still nothing’s changed or happened, it’s ridiculous. And those moments, they start losing their shine after a while. There’s only so many times that you can say “that’s it, I’m changing. Shit got real. Things are going to happen! #yolo” and it actually have some credibility before it just becomes a meaningless mantra.

You know I still love Ugly Betty and I still like to imagine I’m having a moment like Wilhelmina does towards the end of season 4 where she snaps out of being a bit nice and finally goes after the success and power that she so desperately wants. “I want the whole damn company”, she utters with a delightful, silky venom. I like to think I have moments like that where the metaphorical gloves come off, but the truth is it hasn’t really lead to anything fruitful yet. I have the same uninspiring job and my books still aren’t selling – #unsuccessful – so I’m obviously not doing enough.

I don’t know what it is! Why!? Why!? Why can’t I get up off of my lazy arse and get on and do something? Why do I sit on the sofa and stare at my laptop of an evening rather than switching it on and writing something? Why don’t I update my CV? Why don’t I pop into the recruitment agency on my way home? I walk right past it!

So anyway, those are my frustrations du jour. No fixes here. No thoughtful summing up paragraph at the end where I have yet another epiphany. No. No answers. Just questions. 


Hotel GB Review

I’ve been dipping in and out of hotel GB the last few nights. I don’t know quite what to make of it if I’m being honest.It’s entertainment, there’re no bones about that. Who doesn’t love watching useless youngsters embarrass themselves and then getting into trouble with Mary Queen of Shops or Gordon Ramsey from cooking? But I’m trying to figure out its worth, from a humanitarian point of view. And I’m struggling.

If I’m being honest, I’m more than a bit suspicious of Mary. She’s trodden these boards before, promising to turn young lives around and help youth unemployment. She’s the Mother Teresa of the job centre. There was her clothing range, her knicker factory – her grand crusade to get Britain manufacturing again! Yes! But wait…….where are those people now? Do they still have jobs? Is Mary still showering them with that tough love lesbian affection she does so well? I’m not convinced.

I think, I think it’s because I know there are no quick fixes to the “jobs” problem. These sort of shows seem to be performing miracles when in reality they’re not really. Dusting down a few ex-cons and alcoholics and giving them a job for a week is quite easy really. If they screw up, they get fired and another social down and out for whom our hearts are meant to bleed gets shipped in. Easy. Then at the end channel 4 can pack up Paddy McGuiness and leave, and all our poor down and outs will be down and out again (except for a grand total of two who will get jobs.) Gordon quite assuredly tells them they’re getting a years work experience in a week, which to me is like trying to square a circle. A week is a week. What, just because you’re celebrities your time is worth 52 times as much? You can’t substitute time, there just isn’t a quick way round it. Experience speaks volumes but you have to have proper experience. Just because you’ve been helping to get breast milk for David Guest (bluergh don’t get me started) it doesn’t mean you’re now an experienced hotelier.

Still, it is entertainment like I say. I think if it had just sold itself as that then maybe I’d be a lot more agreeable to it.

Oh and on a side bar, I started my promotional short story last night. It wasn’t a huge start and I may have to rewrite a bit of it already. But it’s a start.

Matthew out.

A story about Destiny

And so here I am this evening with my laptop in front of me and I’ve had success!! As predicted in my previous post, I haven’t used any of my mentally scrapbooked ideas. Instead I’ve come up with something brand new and, if I might say, rather brilliant.


“The Destiny of Melissa Smith” will horrify, excite and hopefully upset you into the bargain as well. Going to try and write it over the next week or so, hopefully you won’t have to wait too long to read it. I won’t write much about the plot here, but suffice to say it involves a girl with her whole life ahead of her – until she meets a certain fortune teller, and a certain young man!

Look out for more details at

Matthew out.

When all else fails….


I’m sitting on my bed. Well, more like lying on my bed. Well, more like reclining. Sort of a half sit, half lie. Anyway, I’m relaxing, that’s the point. Have been since about 7.30. I’ve been flicking from iplayer to 4OD to wikipedia to digitalspy to facebook, looking at this and that and racking my brains for something to be interested in, but nothing’s really sticking. I keep stealing glances across the room at my special laptop. I say special laptop because the screen’s a bit wobbly (it won’t shut,) and I only use it for writing. It sits on my desk now, no longer the portable old machine it once was. I remember the first night I got it I took it across to Stephs house, just cos I could. It was portable, why the hell not!! Now it sits, stationary. Which is sad, but fine, it serves a purpose – like I say, I only use it for writing and it makes a good writing laptop. But I keep looking at it because I know really I should haul myself off of this bed and sit at the desk and write something. Okay I’m writing now, fine, but this is procrastination writing. This really is. This is so I can go “dum di dum, this is nice, my fingers clacking away on the keyboard, look at me, writing my socks off” when really it’s just mindless drivel that’s spouting from my noggin and takes not even an iota of effort to put together.

The point is there are things I know I really should be doing and I know 100% that I will feel better for doing them. So here’s the question. Why aren’t I doing them? Why am I just sitting? Or reclining? Or whatever. If I know I’ll feel good and it’s for the best, why aren’t I doing it? I’m………I’m……….I’m………….unsure I can write anything? Panicky that I’ll sit down and think “oh crap I have no idea what to write.”? No, no that’s not true. Even if I did get stuck I could easily send off my gubbins to another agent or something (side bar: new favourite word. Gubbins.) So it’s not through fear of not being able to do anything that I’m not moving. So what else is it? Ah.Ahhhhhh. I think I know. I think that a part of me (one of those stupid illogical but really rather powerful parts of the brain,) is thinking that if I keep going with this and get really into it and get all excited and obsessed, and do loads of work and put in loads of effort that I’ll just be even more gutted when nothing happens. The plant grows but no fruit appears. That’s the fear. I could sit down now and write a chapter or two, or submit to an agent……………but then when nothing happens, or it comes back “NO,” then I’m further down a path that’s leading nowhere.

Of course that’s crazy talk. That’s just mad insecure talk, I know that. Completely illogical and stupid because logical and rational matthew knows that if you want something hard enough and long enough then unless it’s something impossible like invisibility or being able to fly, you’ll likely get it. If Joe Bloggs down the road has got it, then so can I. I know that. But like I said, it’s that illogical stupid part of the brain that actually manages to have quite a loud voice. It’s self-preservation at it’s heart, but ironically it works through self sabotage. Nothing ventured, nothing lost.

But I have to fight this. I have to. Everyone has to. I absolutely have to. It’s scary because it means literally throwing your hopes and dreams out on the line, completely exposed. There’s no half ins, half outs. You have to be 100% on board in terms of your faith and belief. Have to be. Otherwise a tiny part of you has already accepted that you’ve failed (for want of a better word.) And it could be just that tiny bit that could end up letting you down.

Good, good. Great advice Matthew. Now take it.


Okay, I’m just feeling a bit shakey so I need to write. Just bear with me. It’s going to be a bit of a ramble, and it might not make sense, but I need to do this. It’s that time of the month again. Writers panic time. Yes, it’s the old “will I ever get published” business again. I sit and stare at my manuscript, just about held together with its treasury tags, lying there on the desk. It just looks so flat and stupid, like it’s nothing. Now in my heart I know it isn’t nothing, I know it’s so far from nothing. But some horrible part of my head says that right now it is nothing. I mean it is, isn’t it? Right now, sitting on my desk in the treasury tags, it is nothing. It’s just a mad little story that I dreamt up. And then even more horrifically that’s a reflection on me. The book is nothing because I am nothing. Blimey that’s self-involved. But then we all are really.

Oh I don’t know, I know these things can’t be rushed. I could be doing more, and I should be doing more, but I’m doing it the best I can. It’s just that niggling insecurity isn’t it? I imagine everyone feels it. Will you make a difference, will you achieve, will you make your mark and do what you want to do. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr I don’t know, it’s horrible stuff. I’m certainly feeling a bit shakey at the moment, but I know it will pass. I just have to stay focused, keep faith and keep believing that I can and will acheive all that I want to. My books aren’t nothing. They’re not. They’re definately not.

Getting to Grips

FINALLY getting to grips with Book One. I’ve been writing Book Two for so long that I think I’ve just been in a Book Two headspace, but now I’m getting much more into Book One again, which is good, because it will be Book One that will attract the publishers and get me a deal. It has to be good. And you know, re-reading it, I think it is. I thought I’d be tweaking and editing everywhere, I thought it would be pretty much a re-write. But apart from the odd little thing which just doesn’t make sense or could make more sense, it’s actually pretty good. Like I’ve read parts of it and actually got sucked in, forgetting that it was me that wrote it. It’s lovely when it’s like that. When you can read something that you’ve written, something creative, and in your mind it plays like a film – the characters, the places, the events. And there’s music! In my mind there’s , always music that accompanies what’s happening. Lots of dramatic orchestras and choral piecesĀ – lovely! Not that the story needs that to come alive, but that’s just how I read it, and when I’m writing that’s how I see it. I always think that I don’t really write, I just transcribe. I see everything happening in my head, with sound effects and music and everything, and I just write what I see. Hopefully one day they might get made into films – then I can see what I write! That’s why when I think about the end of allllllllllll the books that I’ve already planned, and I get those tears in my eyes (there will be tears! Lots! But I’m not saying if they’ll be happy or sad ones!) I know that that is the only way it can end, because that’s just how it does end. That’s how it ends in my head, in that reel of imagination going round in my brain like a projector in an old cinema. So that’s just how it has to end. I don’t have a choice – I’m just the writer. Funny that. There’s a lot more to this writing malarky then just putting words together so they make some semblence of meaning. Lots more – as anyone who’s ever written will know.

Anyway, just a few random Friday night thoughts for you there.

Also, I’ve been finding it hard to get to sleep lately. Plagued by thoughts that I can’t quite pin down. It’s the past I think, burrowing its way in. Flashes and snapshots of memory. It’s disturbing. Hopefully writing about it here might get rid of it.

Well, enough talk like that – time for more book writing!