‘If it was anyone else I’d say let’s accept that.’ My boss’ way of complimenting me on the first draft of The Forgotten Son chapter one. Of course, what followed was a comment about because it’s me, and the series is what is is, we have to be better than just great. A sentiment I absolutely agree with.
After a very long phone call about the ’60s and how to capture that vibe in prose, I swear, if I didn’t know better I’d think Shaun Russell lived in the ’60s. Except he’s a little younger than me! (Not that you’d know it to look at us — see pic below.) 😉
So that was tonight’s little update on the progress of the book. Chapter one, draft one, is complete and comes in at just under 5,000 words. Tomorrow I shall be listening to The Who, The Kinks, Small Faces and Jehtro Tull, as well as looking at pictures of 1960s ephemera such as money, phone boxes, cars, rubbish strewn streets, and grubby kids. Who says my job isn’t fun?
The Welsh-Londoner's Literary Adventures 