Prentice sleeps rough in a derelict coal cellar in Brighton UK. From one drink to the next, his aim is survival. Fully distrustful of authority, he has a humorous take on life.
In between battles to obtain booze, smokes, and money – by whatever means necessary – he is obsessed with the need to talk to his friend Mark. There’s something he needs to say to him.
Mark, however, is having problems of his own. These are only getting worse with his association with the repulsive dealer Phil Stringer. Everybody hates Stringer, but are too frightened to say so. Even the Police.
But Prentice and Mark share a very, very difficult secret. What can they say to each other when they finally meet up again? Will Prentice find anywhere to live and the companionship he craves? Will he find the next can of Super-Strength Lager?
And what about the enigmatic girl Sophie, interweaving through their lives? Is she just another victim, waiting to be run down by the juggernaut of exploitation? Or is she tougher than she looks?
This is a fast-paced noir epic of the Brighton streets. Funny and scary, it portrays addiction and survival, friendship and betrayal, punishment and getting away with it.
Through the eyes of Prentice we see Brighton and the world itself as we’ve never seen it before.
my queer noirish drunk novel now available on iBooks, as well as Kindle…
changed the colour to this weird flesh-colour for some reason
removed my novel from fixed title-page as it seemed a bit tiring having it there all the time
My novel is out on Kindle. Just doing the iBooks version. I hate advertisements.
“Do you feel like you’re getting stronger, darling?”
“No, not really.”
Well I’ve crept along to the next page of my Kindle e-publication. God this feels so counter-intuitive. For all of my loudness, indiscretion, and social awkwardness – I sometimes wonder if I have an Asperger’s diagnosis – I am actually a preposterously shy person. A terrified neurotic.
But nevertheless, it’s getting there. After submitting the manuscript to numerous agents – and getting replies that ranged from the encouraging (Curtis Brown) to the no-reply-at-all (many, who shall be nameless), I shall now try Kindling my novel.
It will at least feel like the completion of a process. I am also intending to publish on other platforms – but Kindle is a start. Writing the blurb has been surprisingly fun.
But a cover? Oh yes?
And as I have purchased a few ISBNs, shall I call myself a publisher? What name? Now that’s something it might be fun to ponder.
Looks beautiful out, from the window beside me, but there’s a cold wind. I’m thinking of my friend with benefits in Scotland and wanting to escape up there. At least start messaging with him.
But – hey – it’s good to do something counter-intuitive isn’t it? In fact, essential.