Merry Christmas, John Hudspith!

How would you describe your Christmas in only three words? 

John: Merry. Bloated. Family.

If you could have a relationship with a literary festive character who would it be and why?

John: Sally Skellington. I’d have her in stitches. Or maybe Mrs Claus. Santa only comes once a year. I reckon she’d be grateful.

If you had to exist for a week in a Christmas story … which one would it be?

John: Maybe It’s a Wonderful Life – partly so I could experience being black and white. And partly to enjoy being mesmerised by James Stewart’s Donald Duck voice whilst crying at the beautiful side of humanity. But then again that chick in Gremlins is pretty hot. Yeah, give me Gremlins instead.

Dead or alive literary Christmas lunch: who would you invite, and what would you serve? 

John: I have over fifty writers on my books, hardworking…

In which I’m made to eat my words as I come full circle through the maze of publishing to discover that the grass isn’t necessarily greener over there; it’s still mostly desert scrub from every direction…

Last year I wrote a general post about the publishing industry which resonated with a lot of independent authors: https://janruthblog.wordpress.com/2015/02/27/my-affair-with-john-hudspith-and-why-i-had-to-leave-self-publishing/

It came about through sheer frustration at the lack of visibility and the cost of producing books. A turning point came when a small press offered a contract for Silver Rain. This is it, I thought. This is the change of direction I need… but be careful what you wish for! Don’t get me wrong in that I had huge delusional ideas at this stage. I was simply seeking greater visibility and some respite from the nuts and bolts of self-publishing.

And all the outward signs were good: they took five back-catalogue titles and one…

Just Writing

sat all afluff a plump chump on his horse
grinning aloof for the writing of course
nets filled, gathered at speed
delighted with the merrytoed ease
but the rain came thicker than who would know
hidden beasts bicker outside and in
scrumple it, fill the bin
eject erase reject you are
hammers down knives slash truth hurts bah
get moving and shaking and keeping ajar
the forests clear, seas ebb, grains be seen
bingo sings atop the toil
and dawn floods the truth does hurt for some
not merry not sherry not lingo savvy
truth claims
truth wins
just writing