Below, you will find a snippet of the book I am currently editing.
If you want to see more excepts of my writing style, just type the word 'snippets' into the search box on the right of here and you will be presented with a whole host of posts with little tasters of all of my books, [some not yet published].
You will find the link to my books on Amazon etc, also on the right.
PLEASE NOTE : THE FOLLOWING EXTRACT IS UNSUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.
For a while pessimism is my constant, albeit unwelcome, friend. I spend a long time wondering what it is that Matt actually sees in me. I am uncool, unbrave, uneverything. Perhaps Phat would be a better match for him after all… I try to shake the feeling off but it’s persistent. Dwelling on my problems isn’t helping them be solved, instead it’s feeding my insecurities.
I spend some time helping Charlie with his maths. We make some progress and I think that he’s finally starting to grasp some of the techniques that have been evading him until now. I only wish the rest of life was so simple to sort.
Dinner for me is a makeshift affair – a bacon and egg sandwich. Mum doesn’t even raise an eyebrow when I tell her I won’t be eating with the rest of the family - just carries on peeling potatoes and chopping carrots like she’s robot who has been programmed to do only this task and make no response to anything else.
I wonder if she’s noticed that I am wearing one of her tops and whether she’s noticed the other one I put in the wash after wearing. If she has, she doesn’t comment on it. Neither does Dad. But then perhaps he no longer knows what’s hers or mine anymore, now that his attention seems to be permanently focused elsewhere.
“Where are you off to?” he asks, not bothering to look up from his newspaper at me, when I go to the lounge to say goodbye to Charlie.
“Just out to catch up with Millie,” I lie, and because I can, without either him or Charlie who is watching TV again, noticing, I stick two fingers up as I answer. ‘That’s for actually not giving a shit in truth,’ I think at him.
He nods as if the universe is colluding with me. “Have fun!”
Fun? Really? I want to slap him. How the fuck does he think I can just dismiss everything that’s happened, that’s still happening? Can he? Has he?
“I have a project to do in history, I thought maybe you could help me with it later tonight?” I don’t, but perhaps it will make him wake up, make him take notice of what’s going on around him.