Ludicrous, nonsensical writing... who exactly is it aimed at?

I dunno... I would say absolutely anybody... even maybe the most discerning reader; I mean... everyone needs a little nonsense in their life every now and then. Don't you think?

After a very interesting exchange of emails with a fellow blogger who read my nonsensical little book that I’ve always been a tad embarrassed by because I would hate for a first time S P Mount reader to think that was normally the kind of writing I turned out, I have reconsidered my whole take on it. It's okay to own it.

I took this book down some months ago until I saw her review on Goodreads recently, a person herself who studies, quite arduously by all accounts, the art of writing, and who actually enjoyed this book, likening it to 'Confederacy of Dunces ...but without as much cohesion’.  There were things though, that could be improved, she said, a new paragraph here, a period there, for a better reading experience 'but minor compared to the quality of writing and fresh point of view'.  And she'd be right about where some of it could be improved (although all done now!)

As I alluded to, this person very wisely told me that I should be willing to own anything I put out there.  So thinking about this, I have always thought that I do and I don’t when it comes to this particular anthology; I kind of apologized for it.  These are only my scribbling’s after all, ludicrous stories with no point to them other than being for pure nonsensical and mindless entertainment.

But apart from that, it got me thinking; was that the only reason I didn’t want to own this book one hundred per cent - maybe not?  I think that that last few per cent was to do with the fact that I didn't exactly give these stories (which are the result of what I do to take a break from my real writing, strangely enough) as much attention and a final wax as I do everything else I write – again, not taking them too, too seriously, just for fun.   And that’s how I've always promoted them.  But still, if it is out there in the big slush pile, I should indeed own it.  Be proud of it.

However, given the fact that she actually went on to say that if she were an agent, she’d recognise the talent in this book, that gave me the spurt of confidence that I knew in my heart was always there about this kind of writing - which, apparently, is far more difficult to do than one might think - at least that's my impression from what other writers have said. But I allowed myself, over time, to care too much what in fact those in the writing world might actually think of something like this, and largely because I became involved in the sophistication of that world myself.  But me?  Really?  A person who usually does what I want when it comes to my art, who normally could care less what anyone would think?  First and foremost I do write for myself and this was a good reminder of that.  Perhaps I've been starting to lose my way and that sense of individuality that I started out with, the further along I get on the writing journey, reminding me of a blog post I wrote about remembering to bring something of the amateur you along for the ride (you can see that here; entitled: Me, Me, Me).

But it also begged the question, because of my unusual styling, just who else do I write for; just who is my target audience?  And I came to realise I've never really considered that.  I’m a person who writes in multiple styles and genres, and again, reiterate that indeed, I do write for myself, but if I want to take it further, maybe I should be looking at the bigger picture.  I might be naïve, in fact I know I am, but I would like to think anyone who enjoys one of my books will enjoy the others even if they are written in different styles and genres, trying to get by on the tagline that 'all S P Mount works have humour beating from the heart of them'.  Which of course they do.  But I do have a propensity to be literary sometimes - the least popular kind of book out there, apparently (bloody typical) and even before I exchanged emails with this person, I had already decided to try and be less so, to simplify at least some of my works to appeal to a wider readership.

So, because I am a bit obsessive compulsive, I spent the day (and night) going through all of the stories in Little Nut Jobs, correcting little things, rewording here and there, making more sense of the nonsense if that makes sense, and even adding some funny pictures to enhance a few of the stories - and actually getting a few belly laughs along the way because these had all been written some time ago and I'd mostly forgotten them - but good to know I can amuse myself if nothing else!

And so now I do own it.  Proudly.  It’s still an absurd collection, but again maybe not without some merit in the bigger scheme of things, and at the very least, a reminder that I do write in many, many styles because I love to for personal reasons, anything more, as a result, is a bonus.

She almost mentioned the (original) cover being hard to see, and she was right, one of my early attempts at photoshopping, it was more than just a bit busy, a zany cover with a lot going on which, like the original draft of the stories, I didn't really polish too much for a public audience as I should've if I was going to put it out there.  And so the cover you see here replaces it, and I have to say, given the nature of the stories, strangely, accurately represents the entire anthology.

Finally, thanks to my blogging acquaintance - you know who you are - I also found your advice  more helpful in many other ways - has made me think outside of simply writing for my own pleasure.

Little Nut Jobs is free on Smashwords; go get it here and enjoy with my compliments.  I can't make it free on Amazon, but eventually they will, right now it is 99c there.

Listening versus Reading?

I haven’t done a piece on my writing journey for a while, but after something that happened last week, it brought to the surface an instance that annoyed me greatly from way back in 2011 when a ‘so-called’ reviewer – and I mean an unqualified person who advertised themselves as such in exchange for free books – 'reviewed' one of my books based on only having listened to it as opposed to actually having read it in the traditional sense; having her e-reader’s unemotional voice relay it, while, I imagine, she did her vacuuming or something. Don't get me wrong; I know audio books are popular; I just don't write them, but if I did I can imagine I'd need to bear that in mind during the writing process; make it listener friendly. How do I know she listened to it?  Part of her review made mention of how funny it was to hear the e-reader speak in Scottish vernacular where I'd used that.  Granted that would be funny, but to say so in a review as one of the things she enjoyed most?  Huh.  Perhaps I could have had a wheel going round and round for her amusement instead of the clever interaction of the characters that I did.

I said nothing about it at the time because I’ve learned from the writer’s site that I used to participate in through the early years of my journey, not to engage in conflict over the Internet – usually nothing good coming from that – but the situation from last week pushed me over the edge a little, and so I do have to vent at least a little – I mean, after such good behaviour online for years, I feel I’m entitled to a minor rant every now and then; gives me character (or at least displays more of its true nature.)  Lol.

But really, I do find that pouring out my occasional woe into the vastness of the blogosphere is like a tourist in Mexico pissing into the ocean; the acidity of a day drinking cuervo dissipates into nothingness almost instantly there as you go back to basking comfortably in the sun.  And talking of oceans, certainly this person’s ‘review’ from all that time ago has clung like a barnacle to the debris from Japan washing up on British Columbia’s shores right now.  Time to clean it up, air it out, power wash the crap away like they did from that Harley Davidson motorcycle.

Don’t get me wrong, her review was actually quite good, she enjoyed the story overall and even said that a certain demographic would love it, the content just wasn’t for her; calling it ‘man humour’ and slagging off ‘the so-called ladies’ in that book for having the odd audacious thought – which was, largely, the entire point I made in its synopsis (back then). She gave it three stars, which isn’t bad, and in fact balances the five and four stars there.  Yet, shortly after, I saw her rave about Fifty Shades of Grey; giving it a resounding five stars whereas the majority of readers have slagged it off for the poor writing, and where, rather ironically, I thought, she loves that the female MC gets up to all sorts of crude and lewd activity – from what I understand; the sample chapter being quite enough for this discerning reader.  What… because the book is more geared towards the female interest in sex?  But I can totally see why one could ‘listen’ to such a book; there is, apparently, nothing literary in it to get any juices flowing other than the obvious ones.

My point is, I’m more literary than most, I have come to realise that I need to simplify my stories for a more laid back kind of reading experience, and I can understand why many people these days are actually able to ‘listen’ to a book - from what I’ve seen emerging as the new norm – in that most indies are written in an amateur first person style such as Fifty Shades is: ‘I did this, I did that, I blinked… etc.’ Fine, easy to listen to, perhaps the only way to ‘read’ such stories, but when a writer implements deeper meaning, creates sentences perhaps intended for the reader to sit and contemplate, even re-read, then it has to be digested by the eyes to be absorbed into the soul; these are intended to put the reader into the story.  I mean, listening to your girlfriend’s description of some hunk that came by to take care of her dripping pipe wouldn’t be as satisfying as actually standing over that plumber while he was on the job now, would it?  Admit it.  Same thing.  But I don't mind; after all, I take solace and pride in the fact that my writing has been mentioned by notable people in the industry, a Poet Laureate, international best selling author over decades of the books 'Princess' and 'Growing up Bin Laden' among many others, Jean Sasson, to mention but two.  Why, I even passed with flying colours, the entry tests set by a company in San Francisco - Hyperink.

But back to the point of all this, recently I answered a call for submissions; writing 10,000 words in 24hrs because I only saw it the day before, I could have written 5000 but went full steam ahead, and long story short, the publisher loved it and is going to use it as the title/cover story for one of the anthologies.  The story was as perfect as I could make it in that short time frame, albeit in my traditional style, a tad complex, and one that many don’t, or yes, can’t, use, but the writings of H G Wells were given as an example of what was actually wanted for these intended books.  Fine, that’s right up my alley.  Usually I’d take weeks, months even, to pour over anything, but it was alright; the rubric said that first drafts were entirely acceptable as they’d be going through the editing process anyway.

So, anyhoo... after all of this, now in the actual process of it all, despite me putting the publisher in touch with a professional editor who’s agreed to work with one of the anthologies, what do I get?  A wannabe editor who’s taken some classes and whom immediately I worried would not be able to get my style after looking at her own website, and, let's just say, less than stellar writing in the samples of her own works there.  However, fine, I will go with it and see what happens; easygoing for the most part about such things; one is usually better with other people's stuff than their own work after all.  In the meantime the publisher sends her all of the stories he wanted her to content edit, mentioning that one of them was a story that another editor refused to work with.  She assumed, when she came to mine, that was the one he was talking about, no doubt because I didn’t use a ‘cat on the mat’ style of writing, and the way she referred to it and to me was highly insulting in emails that were probably never intended for my eyes; assuming that I have never written anything in my life before, and referring to my piece as my ‘little darling that I probably wouldn’t want touched,’ also saying that it was too old fashioned; that I needed to write for a modern reader – and by that I can only assume she means YA, or the lesser educated – which I don’t generally do - but anything more literary, out of her realm - and most certainly wouldn't want touched by her.

Although, in those emails she admitted that she'd only had her machine read it to her – bear in mind that this is a highly complex story, containing actual physics, backstory, deep meaning about the future of humanity and all kinds of other sophisticated stuff that was, quite simply, obviously beyond her comprehension; the notes she did make, even from the simplicity of the first paragraph, making it clear that she hadn’t actually ‘listened’ to it at all, saying that it was 'all telling' – something I do not do; well versed in various forms of exposition thank you very much, but misinterpreting the fact that it was written in omniscient voice and not the first person voice she no doubt expects or is used to.  I get it, they're on a tight budget; but the cost of having my work messed around with by a person like this, is far too high for me to pay.

The two thing she got right, was in saying, ‘she wouldn’t have a clue where to start,’ and that 'this could be a much larger book.'  The publisher wrote back to her telling her that he loved the story, which was why it was to be the title story, the style being what attracted him to it in the first place; that he completely connected with everything, the character especially, that she mentioned had no substance.  Hah!  Characterization is what I'm (semi) famous for.  As a result, the subsequent emails from her changed their tune even if they were now trying to save face; willing to work on it all of a sudden.  Hah!  No chance!  If he sent me her emails, then no doubt she received my choice words in response too; no way could she ever look at my story objectively now, not even by actually reading it, for that’s the impression she gave me about who she was – the quintessential mean girl who slags people off behind their backs and retains resentment, despite the initial sugary sweet and, apparently, helpful email she sent to introduce herself.  But further, while I am always open to critique and suggestion, completely welcome it; part of the never ending writer’s journey after all, I have come too far to have it thrown into the hands of someone less qualified than me who simply want to exercise their community college course training in their first editing job ever.  Overzealous, not to mention not trusting her own opinion; backtracking on realizing this was not the questionable story mentioned by the publisher.  But then, the point of this little rant is just that; I can’t help but feel many people who advertise themselves as reviewers and editors are no more qualified to do so than many writers out there are who have never taken even a writing class to learn the fundamentals yet blatantly advertise themselves as successful authors - and the mood I'm in I so wish I could name names right now, but will exercise decorum.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I really don’t feel an editor or reviewer should simply switch on a robotic voice to read a writer’s work to them while they go about their other business… doing the dishes… whatever.  .. when it is not in fact intended as an audio book - and maybe not even then.  And in the case of reviewers, such as the one I mentioned earlier, if the genre of the story is not one to your taste, then perhaps discern that from the synopsis, or at least comment on the level of writing as well, don’t just concentrate on the negative, the aspects of someone’s hard work that you personally don’t like to read; take the time to learn what a real review should be; earn your free lifetime supply of books if you're going to call yourself a reviewer.  In this case though, I really don’t mind; anyone who thought Fifty Shades of Grey was the best thing ever really doesn’t belong in the same circles as me; I can see why my writing wouldn’t appeal to her, and so have removed myself from her social media - and since, systematically doing the same with others as I come to see posts and statuses that have no bearing on who, or where, I am on my own personal journey, and, using the ocean analogy, avoiding that tsunami of irrelevant to me information that you see daily and have to cling to a tree trunk to survive.

Getting back to my 10,000 word story; I have told the publisher that I will not work with this person and that I remain indifferent about having my piece in the anthology if he has a problem with that; I will withdraw it.  My first hissy fit actually, and making me rather uncomfortably seem like a prima donna, because I’m not... truly I’m not; can look at my own work objectively, know what’s good and throw out what’s crap; I do it all the time; I love people more trained than myself to offer pointers and to critique honestly.

Where am I left?  He really wants the story, and has invited me to take the time, given the 24hrs in which I wrote this draft (thankfully now with the privilege of a few thousand extra words that will help me to simplify it, and which I know really needs done for easier reading in general as I can be convoluted, I fully realize that – but then, the very reason my work should be read and not ‘listened’ to - grammatically correct as it stands or not).  He suggests that I work with someone on my own if I want, that if we can get it to a publishable state then it won’t need to go through another editor – but even if it does… I welcome it; just make sure they’re qualified more than I am to judge/wanna change it; I don’t write half-heartedly; to coin a cliché, I put my heart and soul into everything I do write (and don't orate).  It would be nice to have that reciprocated by so called professional reviewer/editors - their resulting opinions, good or bad - but then, the people I mention here are hardly professional, are they?  I suppose we have to get used to that.

Prickly Scots Pt I - temporarily free.

In a competitive market such as the indie publishing world, the CEO of Smashwords - one of the major e-book distributors to Barnes and Noble, Apple, Sony etc. - advices that the best marketing strategy for an author is to make at least one of their books free for a number of months.  By doing so, this should greatly increase an author's visibility as well as being a great way for them to get much needed reviews that would aid future sales.

And while currently focussing on my latest release of "The Hairdresser' trilogy, and other new works, taking time away from marketing my older books, I've decided to try this technique with the first one I wrote - Prickly Scots Pt I - a personal favourite - which does enjoy regular sales, but would indeed like to try and increase the visibility of.

So if you haven't read it - or if you have it already, it has recently been revamped - Prickly Scots Pt I will remain free on Smashwords for the foreseeable.  Amazon Kindle will at some point, when they notice this, make it free also... but who knows when - however it's easy enough to transfer it to your Kindle, or in fact any other e-reader from Smashwords.  If you do, and you enjoy it, reviews would be greatly appreciated.

*

Prickly Scots is a very special book to me.  My first born, it remains a favourite.  It took me through the early years of my writing journey; evolved alongside my skill, until finally, having become an overbearing ‘parent’, I had to let it fly free into the world in order that I might concentrate on other works.

But as a result, it retains the inimitable dedication and wonder of a writer starting out, a fledgling imagination that flew beyond the nest to come to roost as this epic adventure that contains my all-time favourite elements of what I believe any gripping adventure should.  Quite simply, amid all that goes on, this story is intended to make you laugh aloud, whisk you away from real life, and as one reader said, is…

Perfect to send you to sleep at night with a big smile on your face regardless of what ails ya.’

Innocent, intelligent, tongue-in-cheek funny, this book will immerse you in the unpredictable and colourful world of its many wonderfully nuanced characters over three time periods so that you might just feel you’re right there in the book alongside them.  In fact, and I tell no lie, from time to time I still drop in on them just to visit such as I would old friends, and so I hope you enjoy getting to know them all even half as much as I did in creating them.

Enjoy.

Get Prickly Scots Pt I for free here:

Or go here to get Pts 1 & II at half price while this promotion lasts.

Synopsis

Shattered by constant mental abuse, an ugly duckling with an eidetic memory accidentally murdered her parents on her sixteenth birthday.  A bittersweet event, plunging the course of her life into a dark aftermath of loneliness, alcoholism and bitterness while presiding over the residents of the orphanage her family estate becomes.

But Sadie Wallace gets the ultimate opportunity to change everything when an inexplicable celestial occurrence appears over Scotland bringing with it a charismatic young couple that never seems to age.

Secretly residing in a castle on Mouse Island from which it disappeared in the 16th century, now fully-loaded with alien technology and occupied by an outrageous flower species, the MacGregor's are back to mastermind the latest incarnate of their son to whom they must reveal that his destiny is to complete a series of bewildering tasks that'll eventually free them all from an ancient family curse - not easy when dealing with a sarcastic, iniquitous being that even their know-it-all companions, 'The Unpronounceables', have no knowledge of.  With absolutely no idea of how to time-travel, the secrets of which are closely guarded by the law of a galactic community that detest an unsuspecting humanity, no one said it would be easy.

But it's not only Sadie who changes beyond recognition, caught up, and in search of acceptance, family and even love, a motley crew of irascible but delightfully droll characters - some of whom should never have existed at all - changes beyond recognition as parallels intermingle in the chaos of the 'butterfly effect'.

Two New Releases - The Hairdresser

Announcing the release of the first two standalone stories in 'The Hairdresser' trilogy. 

Reversal of Fortune.

Movie star looks on the exterior, a dark, psychopathic mind beneath, a narcissistic young man, born on the wrong side of the tracks, decides to combine his God-given skills to achieve an über-luxurious lifestyle.

After a drug-infested life on the street, intent on claiming everything and anything that the universe has cheated him out of, at the suggestion of a conniving, gold-digging girlfriend, Jens becomes a hairdresser in a high-end salon with the intention of manipulating its rich clientele.

But if he wasn't mortal, he'd be a deity; could never be content with clinging to the middle-to-top rung of the socioeconomic ladder.  No, it'd take a disgusting amount of money to surpass the heights where people like Lady Agnes Cragthorpe and the undeserving Douglas Chypmunk perched - the family money of whose combined, would put the Bank of Canada to shame.  Yes, the target in Jens' crosshairs might just take a sliding ladder to reach - in fact, one that reached all the way to the heavens.

The sexual desire of both this elderly woman, whom Jens greatly admires, and aging gay man, for whom his contempt is hardly contained, becomes the crux of his convoluted plan; preoccupied by latent libidos, they're determined to literally kick up their heels before they kick the bucket.  And so when Agnes drags home an ugly young gigolo in his thirties from a luxury cruise, it's all Jens needs to bring to fruition a most outrageously concocted plan designed to double-cross Douglas and push him into a murderous situation.

Seeing Red

A memoir from the perspective of a sleazy prostitute on the lam across Canada.

But one must forgive the candid nature with which Jennyfer delivers her shocking narrative; her dreadful say-it-as-it is politically incorrect disposition, for what does a working girl without the benefit of education or any semblance of guidance know about matters of prose or decorum?

A used-up sex addict for as long as she can remember, getting by on carefree attitude, this sorry soul is probably the most appalling creature you could ever hope not to meet, but, at the same time, might just develop a degree of sympathy for.

Now, under the 'prison' wing of a caring mentor who saw potential; teaching her how to read and write, was it possible that Jennyfer could've been so much more; a skilled writer, a politician even, for certainly, amid describing her seedy exploits, she has no problem digressing to suggest exactly what's wrong with this country today.

Sadly it's much too late for rehabilitation; a price to be paid for that happy-go-lucky brashness with which she approached her life, but determined to leave some kind of legacy before going to the big street corner in the sky, the intimate details of her life, she suspects, might just becomes her ultimate 'climax', not soon to be forgotten - even if she does suspect that her scandalous propensity for the use of profanity will be watered down considerably.

Available on Amazon and Smashwords

Second sneak peek of 'The Hairdresser' - Seeing Red

Ernest Hemingway once said that a writer should create a character and not a caricature.  Good advice.  But what happens when you blend the two?  And while the true sentiment of those words hasn’t escaped me, when it comes to stories about the deranged, I feel there’s something to be said for painting them overly colourful - their undertones are a tad murky after all….

‘The Hairdresser’ series concentrates on the unsavoury, largely delving into the inner machinations of disturbed mind-sets, and while maintaining my usual brand of humour, expletives, adult situations and depravity abound in this particular series.

If that sounds like your kind of reading, I hope you enjoy.

This collection concentrates on the unsavoury, largely delving into the inner machinations of disturbed mind-sets, and while maintaining my usual brand of humour, expletives, adult situations and depravity abound - especially in the following story, the second excerpt from 'The Hairdresser' - where an excess of profanity is used quite deliberately, but then... it is being narrated by a highly unsavoury woman... but you'll need to read the entire story to understand why exactly.

I advise you not to read if you're offended easily; outside of the profanity, the nature of this particular character is politically incorrect to the extreme.

Seeing Red

Vinegar Tits told me just to write what I know and I’ll reach a climax naturally.  Hah… I should be so fucking lucky.  But she has faith in me; thinks I’ve got inborn skill.  Yeah, right bitch… inbred more like it - or at least that’s what people used to say.  Cheeky bastards.  She said she’d help with the punctuation and shit if I need it but has absolute trust in my ability to tell my story well even if I do have a tendency to make the odd faux pas – whatever the fuck that means – me being her star pupil and all.  Huh… bet she tells all us bitches that.

But time is running out; only a matter of days now before my blocked toilet of a life will be flushed away for good - hah, she’ll be proud I used a metaphor there - so no putting it off anymore; only this weekend to get it done.  Pity though; I’d love to see her face in class on Monday when she reads it; see how pleased she’d be at how far I’ve come.  But man I hope she’s right… about faith in general I mean eh… otherwise spending all that fucking time on my knees – and not in the good way neither – will have been a waste of fucking time.

And anyway, I wanna show her I can do it by myself.  But fuck, a comma here, a semi-colon there; intermix long and short sentences, I mean… come on bitch… it ain’t fucking rocket science is it?  Huh, if I’d known writing was this easy I might’ve learned to read when I was a kid.  Pity though; since I’ve been here I’ve loved reading books, the newspapers even; finding out what’s going on in the world.  Who fucking knew?  But anyway, here goes; my own story, my great big life adventure; what they call a memoir; all that’ll be left after I’m gone; a great big fucking skid mark down the side of life's toilet bowl - and yeah… she told me not to say things like that; to watch the swearing; not to overdo it, but make your mind up bitch… what happened to your other pearl of wisdom about just being myself.  Find my own fucking voice you said.  Well, this is it.  Take it or fucking leave it.

She’ll probably mess with it after I’ve gone anyway, scrub it clean with a toilet brush, disinfect it, and no doubt put it in a collection with all the other sorry fuckers’ stories she’s encouraged over the last year or so; make an anthology out of them; entitle it ‘Confessions from the fucking Grave’ or some fucking thing.  Opportunistic bitch.  Nah, I’m only messing; I kinda like her really, and even if she does get rich, we-ll then, fuck, she could do with a good old girls gone wild holiday in Vegas or Cancun or somewhere with all her do-gooding buddies, that’s for fucking sure.  Anyway, money’s no good to me now, not no more eh?  Fuck, I never thought I’d hear myself say something like that; it brings the reality of my situation home.  Huh... home... it wasn’t much, but I wish I could go back just one more time.

But at least by doing this the memory of me will last longer than a box of tissues on a teenage boy’s bedside table – yup… she taught me about allegories, nope, not to be sneezed at, and I’m sure she’ll be proud of me for that one for no way would she approve of what I really wanted to say there.  Hah, stupid bitch calling me her Eliza Doolittle - whoever the fuck she is when she’s at home.  But I do have mad respect for Vinegar Tits, the only person that ever saw potential in me, and so the least I can do here is try to write something she’ll be fucking proud of.  Hah, hark at me, I actually sound as if I give a shit.

So, Vinegar, props to ya bitch for having the patience to teach me, but fuck – hah butt-fuck… get it… who knew I would’ve liked learning so much as I did?  Out of respect, I’ll try to keep it all as clean as possible; say stuff that means something else entirely like you taught me, similes and shit, so don’t wet your virgin panties at how good it might be now, will ya?  I hope you like what I called it, as you can see, a fitting title for my own ‘book of revelation’.  Hah!  Clever dat.

The Whore of The Yukon – hah!

I must’ve been flying really high when I arrived in Vancouver a couple of years ago now, because, for a minute or two, I honestly seriously thought it might’ve been Hong Kong; space-rocket skyscrapers pretty much everywhere and most of the people Chinese or some fucking thing.  Ye-ah, I get it now; that’s why the filthy redneck that gave me a ride through the Prairies laughed when he called it ‘Hongcouver.’  Hah, been here for two years now and Asians still all look the same to me.

Get 'Seeing Red' on Amazon or Smashwords

Go here for another excerpt from the Hairdresser - Reversal of Fortune.