A New Year, A New (Newsletter) Schedule
With 2022 coming to a close, it’s time for a moment of reflection about the Toasted Fiction newsletter, and a look ahead at the new look Toasted Fiction going into the New Year with our new schedule and format!
Our newsletter only started in April this year and it’s the first time I’ve consistently used one of these writing websites - I love it! It feels like a natural home for writers and readers to connect with writing (and writers) they enjoy. I’m grateful to the community of readers we have started to build here at Toasted Fiction and look forward to seeing it continue to grow.
This year, we created a launched a monthly schedule with four regular newsletters, The One-Shot Stories, The Screenwriter’s Studio, The Draft Diaries and The Next Chapter (exclusive serialisation of my novels for paid subscribers). I then added another few semi-regular newsletters, Conversations By The Clyde and The Sketch Show That Never Was. It’s been a good reflection of myself as a writer, one that thrives in variety and writing in different genre as well as formats.
Having looked back at what readers seem to enjoy the most and also what type of stories I’ve enjoyed using this platform to write the most, I’ve found the short fiction to be the winner - and the shorter the better! So, with that in mind, I’m going to shake up the schedule and strip Toasted Fiction back to basics. Toasted Fiction was originally created as a platform to write and share my short stories and nano stories (50-Word Fiction). I then started to write Six-Word stories on top of this. These short blasts of fiction, mixed with the traditional short stories are what Toasted Fiction will feature going forward, with The Next Chapter continuing for paid subscribers - where I will be debuting my new novel in a serialised format next year (exciting!) - with the occasional Conversations By The Clyde.
Without further ado, here are the three regular short story collections you will receive in the newsletter as a free subscriber of Toasted Fiction: Six-String Stories, Five-Bar Fifties and One-Track Tales.
With Six-String Stories, these will be six words only, Five-Bar Fifties will be 50 word stories and One-Track Tales will be traditional short stories of varying lengths.
You may be wondering, why the references to music? Are all your short stories going forward going to be about music or bands? Well, no. Nearly all of them won’t - maybe a few will. I’ve named the collections these for a few reasons. 1) With these short pieces of fiction, they should be like the story equivalent of a song - telling a tale in a short space of time. 2) I love music (particularly the guitar which I dabble in) and some of my favourite writers are musicians (particular shout-out to Tom Petty, Luke Morley and Lennon/McCartney) so this is an ode to my love of music and songwriters. 3) It’s always my aim when writing a story - in any length of format - that there should be at least a line or two in the story that feels like a lost lyric to a forgotten song that, a song that nobody’s heard or a reminder of your favourite song.
So, that’s all! The new schedule will start properly in January, with Six-String Stories at the start of the month, building to One-Track Tales and ending with The Next Chapter. Likely, it’ll be one story each week to make it manageable, rotating each story type.
Thanks for subscribing, sharing and spreading the word!
A Festive Short Story - Now On Substack
🎄 It’s December! Which can mean only one thing, it’s time to read the Toasted Fiction Christmas Story, Tree Toppers, written by me and available on Substack.
Get in the festive spirit!
Announcing My Substack Newsletter - Toasted Fiction with Chris Patrick!
That’s right, I’m now on Substack!
With so many great writers joining Substack with their very own newsletters dedicated to their writing, I thought I’d join them.
You can sign up to my newsletter, Toasted Fiction with Chris Patrick, for FREE here and receive stories of all shapes and sizes directly into your inbox! There’s also a paid subscriber option also, but more on that later.
If you don’t use Substack, fear not, because I will be using this website to create my own newsletter for those of you who are subscribers to this website. You can sign up to the newsletter for this website using the form below!
For the announcement, and my thoughts behind it, visit Toasted Fiction with Chris Patrick and for more info, have a read below.
Welcome to Toasted Fiction
Toasted Fiction features stories of all shapes and sizes from the non-award-wining writer himself, Chris Patrick.
Who?
Fair enough. Chris is the series creator, writer and exec producer of SEARCH, and the author of 5 books. He is also the writer of over 10 sketches for BBC The Social, reaching over half a million views and a playwright who has written such plays as Fools On A Hill, Big Bang Billion & Full Stop. Is that enough?
Never heard of him, but I’ll give his writing a go.
Thank you. I think.
Why should I subscribe then?
Subscribe to get stories of all shapes and sizes direct to your inbox as soon as they are published. Featuring new stories (and old), you’ll receive direct access to my collection of writing
What’s the difference between a free subscription and a paid subscription?
I want people to have as much access as possible to the stories here, so a lot of what will be posted will be available to free.
The key difference for paid subscribers will receive access to my novels, released here in serial form. Not only will my already published novels be available here, I will be releasing a brand new novel in serial form exclusively to paid Substack subscribers.
Of course, there will be excerpts for free subscribers to read, but the full novels in their serial form will only be available to paid subscribers.
Also, as a paid subscriber, you will receive exclusive sneak peeks of works-in-progress as well as screenplays.
What Kind of Stories? And don't say of all shapes and sizes again.
Point taken. You’ll have access to short stories, nano stories, chapters from my novels, humour writing, rejected jokes, sketches that never made the cut, scripts that have been produced or unproduced, updates on what I’m working on, behind the scenes stories about writing or behind the scenes stories about making a new story - whether it be a play, a sketch, a book, a podcast, a film or TV pilot. Occasionally, there may be the odd non-fiction piece of writing (more likely a review or a feature from the archive or my thoughts on a particular project I’ve worked on). You might read a story on a success or a story on a failure.
OK I’m in. How do I get kept up-to-date?
You won’t have to worry about missing anything. Every new edition of the newsletter goes directly to your inbox. Sign up here or over at www.chrispatrickwriter.com to find your next story.
Is that all?
As ever, thank you for the support. As with my stories, your support comes in all shapes and sizes. Whether it be continuing to subscribe to this website, subscribing to my Substack newsletter, buying my books, reading my stories, listening to my podcasts or simply telling a friend about something of mine you’ve read, watched or listened to, I am really grateful.
SEARCH: SERIES ONE NOW AVAILABLE
SEARCH: SERIES ONE NOW AVAILABLE
Discover the mystery of SEARCH - created and written by Chris Patrick.
Series One is now available to listen in full from The Big Light or all of your favourite podcast platforms.
"Where did they go?" When Journalist Matt McNair receives footage of a mysterious figure appearing throughout Scotland, he travels the country to investigate the mystery, and discovers Scotland's untold secrets, including the truth of his fathers disappearance many years before. What Matt uncovers is only the beginning, and there's no going back.
The search begins - subscribe, follow and unfold the new mystery with all it’s twists, turns and cliffhangers. For more info, go to: www.search-the-series.com
Funded by The National Lottery Through Creative Scotland.
A Few Words About Search
This was me at the table read for SEARCH the mystery-thriller podcast I created and wrote all 8 episodes of. This was me hearing the scripts for Series One read for the first time. It was nerve-wracking, scary, overwhelming, fun, hilarious, emotional and absolutely amazing.
11 years prior, I wrote down an idea on a bit of receipt paper when I worked in Tesco. And here I was, sitting in a room full of incredible talent reading a story full of characters and dialogue that I had written. And here I am now, writing this, as the finale to Series One drops on your podcast platforms, with the entirety of Series One now available to listen for the first time.
This has genuinely been the best creative experience of my life so far and I've worked with a fantastic cast and brilliant creative team that are not only the best at what they do, but ones that I'm lucky enough to call friends.
To the cast - Colin, Kirsty, Paul, Natalie, Euan, Andrew, Cameron, Karen, Jasmine, James, Stephanie, Kim, Lucy, Scott and Liam. You brought the characters, and the world, to life so brilliantly. It was a blast working with you all. And I hope we work again together soon.
To the creative team - Fraser, Lisa, Ossie - you worked so hard on making Search exactly what how I hoped and imagined it would be and found our audience along the way.
To Creative Scotland for believing in the project enough to fund it and allow everyone to have a job doing what they love.
To The Big Light for inviting us to be part of their network of amazing Scottish podcasts, and making us feel so welcome and like we belong amongst those podcasts already there.
To BBC The Social and the team there for believing in the idea enough to support me as a writer as I developed and wrote the project before finding a new home for it.
To Jamey Claffey, the script editor of Search as it was developed, you gave me great notes and really helped me grow as a writer.
To my family and friends, for being the first to subscribe, listen, spread the word and for all your support - including keeping my feet on the ground.
To my Mum and Dad and brother for listening to my first stories and encouraging me to tell more - it’s your fault!
To my wife, Rachel, for believing in me when I don't believe in myself, for all your support & love, for Podcast Takeaway Tuesdays and, of course, keeping me grounded and sane - and supporting me to produce my first podcast series as we planned our wedding. For everything.
To the listeners, our audience, our fans - thank you so much for being all three of these. The response has been amazing and yer nothing without your audience - so thank you for all your subscribes, likes, reviews, ratings and for spreading the word.
To the giants who's shoulders I stood on - all the writers, musicians and actors and directors who inspired me to write, to keep on writing and to write Search - thank you.
And to the fans who haven't yet begun their Search journey yet, thank you in advance. Buckle up, it's a hell of a ride.
That's the beauty of telling a story this way - the weekly episode drops might be over, but the story is just beginning for some.
Thank you. Here's to what the future holds for Search, myself and the team. I truly hope we get the chance to come back and do it all over again.
Cx
Birds-Aye
--whit d'ye suppose they're daen?
--whit dae I suppose who's daen?
--them up there.
--the birds?
--aye.
--
--
-- aiming.
--aiming?
--aye. aiming.
--whit dae ye mean?
--ever known a bird tae miss their target?
--naw they're awis raining shite doon on folk but they don't aim surely
--ye asked what I thought, there it is
--fine but I don't think----ah shite
--told ye, right in the birds-eye. They never miss
An Extract from Work-In-Progress Conversations By The Clyde.
Hooked: An Extract from Work-In-Progress 'Conversations By The Clyde'
Whilst I’m busy working away on a couple of projects - which I’m very excited to share when I can - there’s not been much of anything new to read on here.
So, let me give you something new to read - from one of the projects I’m in the process of writing, one which is taking a lot of time (by design) but one which I’m also very excited to share at some point down the line.
Check out an exclusive extract of work-in-progress Conversations By The Clyde, below.
Enjoy
Cx
Hooked
--Ah fuck sake.
--Whit?
--Ah gies a hand here will ye.
--Whit for?
--Just gies a hand!
--Why whit have ye--JESUS CHRIST, whit have ye done?
--I've went and caught this seagull on the hook of this fishing rod havent a?
--aw for fu--what dae ye want me tae dae
--Just haud it doon
--haud it doon?
--aye. I'll get the hook oot
--right, ARGH!
--whit have ye done?
--whit have a--the wee bastard bit me
--well o course it bit ye, it's in distress int it?
--it's in distress?
--well aye it's got a hook up the arse doesn't it?
--well--here dae seagulls have arses really--
--well they shite good luck fae somewhere--
--true, they've goat a hole they've got an arse I suppose but--
--look this isnae the time tae wax lyrical aboot the anatomy of a fuckin seagull eh?
--right aye fair dos. Dae ye want tae haud it and I'll get the hook out
--aye bit hurry up eh?
--how
--well they porpoises in the water there are lookin on and they're takin the piss now it's embarrassing
--ah hardly think they're taking the piss--
--ye ever saw a porpoise stop in the wan place? Naw. They're takin the piss.
--right. Haud it. Almost there. Goat it. There it's flyin awae
--guid
--aw FU--
--whit
--it's jist awae the fish I caught.
--aye, they'll dae that.
--should have left the hook in the bastart
--ach dinnae be like that eh?
--aye fair enough.
Pint-Sized Plays and Milestone Moments
Absolutely over the moon (get it?) to be able to share my short play, Big Bang Billion.
To say I’m excited to be part of the excellent Pint-Sized Plays by the legendary A Play, A Pie & A Pint would be an understatement. As a Scottish writer, ye grow up and work in the knowledge that A Play, A Pie & A Pint is synonymous with new writing, but also excellent writers. Having a wee piece I've wrote selected and shared amongst a roster of incredibly talented folk, is a real wee milestone moment for me.
Genuinely delighted by the response it’s received so far. There’s a lot of love for it and it seems to have really resonated, which is all ye can ask for.
Moments like this are truly magic as a writer - never take them for granted.
Thank you to anyone and everyone who has shared, watched or reached out with a kind word. It means a great deal.
Have a wee watch/listen if you haven’t already. Massive thanks to A Play, A Pie & A Pint, and especially a huge dollop of gratitude and praise for Colin Little & Natalie Clark. They really did knock it out of the park. You could say out of this world (I did it again).
Thank you and enjoy.
Cx
Conversations By The Clyde: A Work In Progress
--"Whits this?"
--"A dunno. Suhin he's writing."
--"Is he naw awis writin' suhin?"
--"Aye"
--"Whit is it?"
--"Some sorta book."
--"Is he naw awis writin" some sorta book?"
--"Aye."
--"Whits different aboot this?"
--"Just conversations n that. Us chatting. Mibbe other folk."
--"Awrite. When's it comin' oot?"
--"Dunno. He's only really just started writin' it, eh?"
--"Awrite. Will it come oot then?"
--"Ach who knows. Probably."
--"Awrite. Whits the point of this then?"
--"That naebody knows. Jist to tell folk he's daen suhin."
--"Awrite. Bit pointless that eh?"
"Aye."
A work in progress but something I'm very excited about. It'll happen eventually.
Works In Progress & Sneak Peeks!
In case anyone was wondering what it's like to be a writer (or this particular writer), here's a glimpse.
There's easily at least 5 works-in-progress battling it out for top billing. It’s taken me a long time to realise that this is a key part of my writing process and not focusing on one thing completely, actually works, for me anyway.
It usually means that, whenever I finally finish a first draft of a project (whether it’s a book, or a screenplay or a TV pilot or a play). it means I can send that out for folk to read and instead of waiting around for people to read and give notes, I can jump into the next project.
It means I’m always writing, which is the best place to be.
Currently, I’d say about 3-4 books are fighting for focus, a few TV pilots, a feature screenplay (or two) and a few plays, are all percolating. And it’s taken me a long time to realise that not only is this part of my process, but I’d say 90% of writing for me isn’t actually sitting down at the desk and typing it out - that’s the 10%. The bulk of writing for me is thinking about it, letting the story and the characters develop. Jotting down story notes and ideas, lines of dialogue, emotional beats, and then eventually collating that together and writing.
As there’s loads of projects, I’m going to occasionally post little sneak peeks and extracts here on the site! So keep your eyes peeled, and when there are sneak peeks, let me know what you think of them if you read them! It always helps to know when their is an audience out there waiting for your work.
Thanks for the support and reading!
Cheers!
Cx
An Extract from The Quest For Perfection (Is A Damn Fine Thing)
For everyone who purchased a copy or downloaded the free kindle version over the weekend - THANK YOU! `It’s genuinely always a really amazing feeling when you see folk order a copy of your work. So massive thanks.
For those who missed out on the free version this time, or are thinking about getting it, I thought I’d drop a little extract here for you to read.
Hopefully it whets the appetite and leaves you needing to read more.
And if you have ordered the book and are waiting on it making it’s way to you - here’s a sneak peek of what to expect.
Enjoy
Cx
Foreword from J.P. McNair
I’ve tried to tell this story the best I could. There are few people left alive to tell it and those that are don’t want to put their names to paper, nor do they want to put their mind back where it once was. The story of The Fredrick Street Five, The Wells Foundation and the events that took place both close to home on a small Scottish island and simultaneously far away are mostly unknown. Until now. What follows, is the truth, or as much of the truth as I could muster. Usually, when writing a story based on a real event involving real people, it’s a lot easier. Survivors will talk to you. Information is, if not easy to find, at least it’s there to find. Not this. For a story of this horror, tragedy and sheer human cruelty I would have hoped I wouldn’t have to imagine it so much. I would have hoped I wouldn’t have had to write so much. But the information was scant, those left alive even fewer. But I’ve done my best with the few interviews I managed to undertake, the slim writings on The Wells Foundation, newspaper clippings, extracts from essays and articles. But of course, much of the story appears as written like a book of fiction. I hope this doesn’t detract from the truth too much. I had to fill in the blanks with the information I had. Events may not have played out exactly as this, but it will be as close as we will ever get to the truth of this quiet horror. And I hope you find the truth in here as I did.
J.P. McNair, Journalist and Author of The Fredrick Street Experiments
Transcript of Interview with Sarah Barr. August 25, 2015. Conducted by J.P. McNair.
I had approached Ms Barr several times for an interview to discuss what she remembers of Fredrick Street. Several times she rejected. The other survivor has all but fallen off the face of the earth. Without an interview with Ms Barr, the project is dead. Without her, I have nothing substantial and this may as well be a work of fiction – and will probably be seen as such.
I was persistent though and finally, she agreed to meet with me and tell not only her story, but the story of the others, as much as she could. None of the court records after the incident are public record. The record details everything from the Fredrick Street Five, Dr Tom and Isabel Archer, Ray Samson, Harold Wells & The Wells Foundation. If I want to piece together the events, and what happened, Sarah Barr is my only hope. I approachedthe interview with great caution. She lives alone, in a bungalow in a quiet and sleepy Scottish town, with views out onto the river that runs between here and Glasgow.
When I visit for the interview, one look at her tells me she’s been through a lot; it looks like she’s lived life twice over. Her hair is slightly frayed and her is skin taught, yellowing ever so slightly through years of misuse. Whether it be self-inflicted or as a result of what happened, I don’t know. Not yet, at least. She offers me a cup of tea. The china jingles on the saucer as she brings it to me shakily. When she sits down, she tries hard to smile.
Are you nervous?
She nodded. “A little.”
Don’t be. I won’t push you to tell me anything you don’t want to.
“OK.”
Can I start by asking why you finally agreed to meet me?
She thought for a minute before answering. “I guess, I hope, when I tell you the story of what happened, then it might help me to forget.”
How much do you remember?
The question seems to elicit a shiver. “Of what happened to me? Everything. The rest, I know from what I read in the media coverage, after, and from what I heard during the trial. Will that be enough?”
Yes, of course.
Then she caught me off guard by asking a question herself. “Why do you want to tell this story?”
I had to approach this answer carefully. It was a question I was often asked by the people I interviewed for my books, particularly as I wasn’t a journalist, and the way I tell my stories are framed as fiction. Most of the time, my subjects are just happy to get their story out there, but on the rare occasion, they’re concerned that people won’t believe it because it’s listed as being Based On A True Story.
When I was initially forwarded the story of Fredrick Street and The Wells Foundation, I was sceptical myself.After I read more about what had happened though, the inherent tragedy and trauma apparent within the events that transpired, I wasgripped and appalled. I felt the story deserved to be told and to be told to as many people as possible. Not everyone is interested in the truth, unless it’s dressed up in fiction. And what happened to you and to everyone else, deserves to be told.
She didn’t say much after that. She simply nodded.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much and was concerned that perhaps the fictional manner in which I write my stories may make her uncomfortable. I have spent years pursuing this particular story and didn’t want to let the opportunity I now had slip away.
If it makes you feel better, I plan to include within the book excerpts of our conversations, something I have not done before,to cement the fact that what people are about to read is a true story. Would that be OK?
She nodded again and seemed happy with the offer.
We sat for a few moments, drinking tea and looking out onto the view. I observed Sarah closely, trying to form my first question carefully. It was she, though, who broke the silence first, fixing me with a steely gaze.
“Where do you want me to start?”
From the beginning.
I took out my pen, and started writing.
I
The Strangeness Of Fredrick Street
1
For the residents of Fredrick Street, life was just perfect and just perfect was just so. Everyday, they woke how they wished and worked where they had always dreamed of working. Everyday, they lay with whom they loved and slept like a baby in the womb. Everyday, they were exactly the person they had always wanted to be. Life was nirvana and nirvana was life as the hours rolled on by like tumbleweed on a dusty desert track. Everyday felt like the day before and that, to the small community of Fredrick Street, was sheer perfection. They each had the life of a snake charmer with an eternity of missed bites.
It was flawless.
So flawless, in fact, that they didn’t notice what was going on around them. They didn’t notice that the lights in some of the houses on the street hadn’t been switched on in months, some of them close to a year. They didn’t notice that each night they dreamed a similar dream and woke with no memory of what they’d seen and of where they came from. They didn’t notice real life as it passed them by, because they were living their best one.
Each day and each night however, they were watched. They were watched by a man who dreamed of nothing more than living his perfect life. This man knew more about them than each knew of them knew about themselves. This man had a job to do – one he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to do yet. For as he watched, unseen, by the residents of Fredrick Street who were hiding secrets even they never knew they had, this man wanted nothing more or less than what the residents of the street had. He longed to be able to stay in bed a little longer and watch his partner sleep with her grumpy frown and her leg draped over his. He wanted to check on his sleeping angel of a daughter after he tucked her in goodnight with a bedtime story. He wished he could surprise his girls with a duvet day on the couch or a trip away to the place of their dreams. But that’s all they were, to him. Dreams. Wishes. For they would no longer come to pass – his life was not lived like the people he had been watching. He knew the tragedy of real life.
As he watched Sarah with her beautiful kids and athlete in training body, Kim with her movie star career and baby on the way, Kim’s husband Mark with a surgical career to rival any, Jessica with her simultaneous popularity and burgeoning academic career and Albert Molineaux with his wife of 60 years, this man wondered if these people had any idea what lay ahead of them, or indeed, behind them. When they started to remember, that’s when the problems would begin. When he started to make them look a little closer at the life around them in their sweet little cul-de-sac, that’s when everything may fall apart. It’s not that he, The Watcher, wanted them not to be happy – it was just the way it was. And the job he had come here to do.
For the residents of Fredrick Street, life was just perfect and just perfect was just so.
Unfortunately, the world had other plans.
It's Taken Two Years...But Let's Do The First Draft Done Dance!
After two years of developing and writing, I have FINALLY written THE END on the FIRST FULL DRAFT of my next play.
YAS! It’s time to do that dance you do when you’ve finally finished a first full draft of a script. It feels so good. I danced. I made myself a cup of tea and a cheese, ham and salsa toastie, and I put my feet up.
I write a lot, and work on a lot of scripts or projects at the same time, until one becomes more fully formed and puts on it’s running shoes to sprint to the finish line. This is one that started out as something very, very different a number of years ago, which I started from scratch two years ago. And now the first full, unedited draft is ready for people to read.
The new play is a dark comedy, and is the follow-up to my 2017 play, Fools On A Hill. It’s a stand-alone story, of course, but feels like a continuation of some of the themes that Fools On A Hill dealt in, and would act as a good companion piece to that one.
It's been simultaneously fun and terrifying write. It's definitely my most ambitious piece to date - I mean, it has more than 3 characters for a start, which for me is a BIG change. It’s a script that contains a lot of themes, ideas, characters, dialogue and topics that feel like were challenging in a number of ways; not least of which being adhering to my number one priority when writing - make it entertaining, funny and shot through with emotion. Above all; it has to be a good story, if not a great one.
I’m excited, and of course apprehensive about people reading it - but mainly excited.
And I very very much hope that it will see an audience some day in the not too distant future.
But as always, it’s a long road with any script and any creative project.
As much as it feels good to finish a script, I can’t linger on this feeling for too long. The rewrite will bring me back down to earth.
But in the words of the great President Bartlet, as written by Aaron Sorkin, made immortal by Martin Sheen.
What's next?
Introducing...Unproduced Scripts: The Ones That Didn't Make It
Sometimes scripts are written and they don't get made. But sometimes they're not terrible and don't need to stay in the drawer.
Introducing Unproduced Scripts: The Ones That Never Made It as part of what you can now read on my website.
The first one, Good Things, is already up.
The second one, High Ceilings, is now live.
Check it out at here at Scripts: Unproduced.
Another Week, Another Bunch of Rejected Jokes!
Yes! Another week means there is another few rejected jokes to read from yesterday’s news!
Head over to the Humour section of the site to read the latest jokes, straight from last week’s headlines!
I’m nothing if not current and potentially unfunny!
Enjoy…hopefully!
Cx
WandaVision Review Now Live
Artwork by Matt Ferguson
@Cakes_Comics
Today marks the finale of the first Marvel/Disney+ show, WandaVision. And as I absolutely LOVE IT, I’ve reviewed the series over in The Watercooler section of the site!
Wait until you’ve watched it, then head over to The Watercooler to read my review.
Read my review of WandaVision here.
In Celebration of World Book Day
Photo By: Jaredd Craig
As it’s World Book Day, I thought I’d join the chorus of voices around the world celebrating our love for books and for fiction.
We’ve always needed books and stories, and perhaps we’ve needed them more than most over the past year.
As a writer, and a reader (and a biscuit eater) I love books. I miss going into a bookshop, browsing the shelves and leaving with three - my rule of leaving with three books is solely down The Pagemaster.
That time will come again. But for now, we wait. And we read. And we escape into other worlds, spend time with fictional friends or explore shared experiences.
To celebrate World Book Day, from tomorrow until Tuesday, four of my books will be available to digitally download for free on Amazon. To get the download, head over to the Books section of the website, have a browse and follow the link.
As an extra treat, and because it is the only of my five books not available to digitally download for free, there’s an extract of the opening of my novel, The Quest For Perfection (Is A Damn Fine Thing), below.
Happy reading.
Enjoy
Cx
Extract From The Quest For Perfection (Is A Damn Fine Thing)
Foreword from J.P. McNair
I’ve tried to tell this story the best I could. There are few people left alive to tell it and those that are don’t want to put their names to paper, nor do they want to put their mind back where it once was. The story of The Fredrick Street Five, The Wells Foundation and the events that took place both close to home on a small Scottish island and simultaneously far away are mostly unknown. Until now. What follows, is the truth, or as much of the truth as I could muster. Usually, when writing a story based on a real event involving real people, it’s a lot easier. Survivors will talk to you. Information is, if not easy to find, at least it’s there to find. Not this. For a story of this horror, tragedy and sheer human cruelty I would have hoped I wouldn’t have to imagine it so much. I would have hoped I wouldn’t have had to write so much. But the information was scant, those left alive even fewer. But I’ve done my best with the few interviews I managed to undertake, the slim writings on The Wells Foundation, newspaper clippings, extracts from essays and articles. But of course, much of the story appears as written like a book of fiction. I hope this doesn’t detract from the truth too much. I had to fill in the blanks with the information I had. Events may not have played out exactly as this, but it will be as close as we will ever get to the truth of this quiet horror. And I hope you find the truth in here as I did.
J.P. McNair, Journalist and Author of The Fredrick Street Experiments
Transcript of Interview with Sarah Barr. August 25, 2015. Conducted by J.P. McNair.
I had approached Ms Barr several times for an interview to discuss what she remembers of Fredrick Street. Several times she rejected. The other survivor has all but fallen off the face of the earth. Without an interview with Ms Barr, the project is dead. Without her, I have nothing substantial and this may as well be a work of fiction – and will probably be seen as such.
I was persistent though and finally, she agreed to meet with me and tell not only her story, but the story of the others, as much as she could. None of the court records after the incident are public record. The record details everything from the Fredrick Street Five, Dr Tom and Isabel Archer, Ray Samson, Harold Wells & The Wells Foundation. If I want to piece together the events, and what happened, Sarah Barr is my only hope. I approachedthe interview with great caution. She lives alone, in a bungalow in a quiet and sleepy Scottish town, with views out onto the river that runs between here and Glasgow.
When I visit for the interview, one look at her tells me she’s been through a lot; it looks like she’s lived life twice over. Her hair is slightly frayed and her is skin taught, yellowing ever so slightly through years of misuse. Whether it be self-inflicted or as a result of what happened, I don’t know. Not yet, at least. She offers me a cup of tea. The china jingles on the saucer as she brings it to me shakily. When she sits down, she tries hard to smile.
Are you nervous?
She nodded. “A little.”
Don’t be. I won’t push you to tell me anything you don’t want to.
“OK.”
Can I start by asking why you finally agreed to meet me?
She thought for a minute before answering. “I guess, I hope, when I tell you the story of what happened, then it might help me to forget.”
How much do you remember?
The question seems to elicit a shiver. “Of what happened to me? Everything. The rest, I know from what I read in the media coverage, after, and from what I heard during the trial. Will that be enough?”
Yes, of course.
Then she caught me off guard by asking a question herself.
“Why do you want to tell this story?”
I had to approach this answer carefully. It was a question I was often asked by the people I interviewed for my books, particularly as I wasn’t a journalist, and the way I tell my stories are framed as fiction. Most of the time, my subjects are just happy to get their story out there, but on the rare occasion, they’re concerned that people won’t believe it because it’s listed as being Based On A True Story.
When I was initially forwarded the story of Fredrick Street and The Wells Foundation, I was sceptical myself.After I read more about what had happened though, the inherent tragedy and trauma apparent within the events that transpired, I wasgripped and appalled. I felt the story deserved to be told and to be told to as many people as possible. Not everyone is interested in the truth, unless it’s dressed up in fiction. And what happened to you and to everyone else, deserves to be told.
She didn’t say much after that. She simply nodded.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much and was concerned that perhaps the fictional manner in which I write my stories may make her uncomfortable. I have spent years pursuing this particular story and didn’t want to let the opportunity I now had slip away.
If it makes you feel better, I plan to include within the book excerpts of our conversations, something I have not done before,to cement the fact that what people are about to read is a true story. Would that be OK?
She nodded again and seemed happy with the offer.
We sat for a few moments, drinking tea and looking out onto the view. I observed Sarah closely, trying to form my first question carefully. It was she, though, who broke the silence first, fixing me with a steely gaze.
“Where do you want me to start?”
From the beginning.
I took out my pen, and started writing.
I
The Strangeness Of Fredrick Street
1
For the residents of Fredrick Street, life was just perfect and just perfect was just so. Everyday, they woke how they wished and worked where they had always dreamed of working. Everyday, they lay with whom they loved and slept like a baby in the womb. Everyday, they were exactly the person they had always wanted to be. Life was nirvana and nirvana was life as the hours rolled on by like tumbleweed on a dusty desert track. Everyday felt like the day before and that, to the small community of Fredrick Street, was sheer perfection. They each had the life of a snake charmer with an eternity of missed bites.
It was flawless.
So flawless, in fact, that they didn’t notice what was going on around them. They didn’t notice that the lights in some of the houses on the street hadn’t been switched on in months, some of them close to a year. They didn’t notice that each night they dreamed a similar dream and woke with no memory of what they’d seen and of where they came from. They didn’t notice real life as it passed them by, because they were living their best one.
Each day and each night however, they were watched. They were watched by a man who dreamed of nothing more than living his perfect life. This man knew more about them than each knew of them knew about themselves. This man had a job to do – one he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to do yet. For as he watched, unseen, by the residents of Fredrick Street who were hiding secrets even they never knew they had, this man wanted nothing more or less than what the residents of the street had. He longed to be able to stay in bed a little longer and watch his partner sleep with her grumpy frown and her leg draped over his. He wanted to check on his sleeping angel of a daughter after he tucked her in goodnight with a bedtime story. He wished he could surprise his girls with a duvet day on the couch or a trip away to the place of their dreams. But that’s all they were, to him. Dreams. Wishes. For they would no longer come to pass – his life was not lived like the people he had been watching. He knew the tragedy of real life.
As he watched Sarah with her beautiful kids and athlete in training body, Kim with her movie star career and baby on the way, Kim’s husband Mark with a surgical career to rival any, Jessica with her simultaneous popularity and burgeoning academic career and Albert Molineaux with his wife of 60 years, this man wondered if these people had any idea what lay ahead of them, or indeed, behind them. When they started to remember, that’s when the problems would begin. When he started to make them look a little closer at the life around them in their sweet little cul-de-sac, that’s when everything may fall apart. It’s not that he, The Watcher, wanted them not to be happy – it was just the way it was. And the job he had come here to do.
For the residents of Fredrick Street, life was just perfect and just perfect was just so.
Unfortunately, the world had other plans.
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Snow Cat
It was March 2018. Instead of looking forward tae spring and summer just around the corner, the clouds were kicking aff big time; aye, I’m talking about SNOWMAGGEDON.
Pain in the arse, eh? Noo I like the snow. It’s no bad if you’re sitting nice and cosy with a wee drink and some munchies. Or a cup of tea and some toast. Nae need tae brave the cold. Jist keepin’ yerself nice and warm as The Beast From The East tears through Scotland.
But naw. That wasnae me. That wisnae whit I ended up daen. Instead, I end up chittering away like wan of those wee bastards in Ice Age. And here’s why. And aye, it’s because of cat again. Aye the same cat. The wan that came back frae the deid. Dinnae remember? Well that’s another story, and ye don’t need to know it the noo, suffice tae say it’s no the first time the wee shit’s caused havoc.
Anyway, Beast From The East. I’m sitting there, quite the thing when I start hearing panicked gasps and yelling. It’s my Mum. She’s shouting and balling. So I run in tae the living room and there she is, hands over her mouth staring out the windae intae the street.. “Whit’s wrong? Whit’s wrong?”
She’s looks at me, ashen white like the snow that’s fell aw aroond us. “It’s the cat. It’s Ringo. He’s stuck, he’s out in the middle of the road in the snow. Oh my god he cannae move, Chris.”
Right well that’s me. That’s aw I need tae hear before jumping’ intae action. No way is that wee bugger goin’ tae fall victim to this Day After Tomorrow-pish.
So I fling my shoes on and fucking high tail out of the house. It’s freezing. I’m no even properly wrapped up. I’m forcing ma way, sprinting through 2 feet of snow, no caring that I’m in my joggy bottoms and a t shirt you can piss through. I’m on a mission. I’m running tae rescue oor cat. I’m basically John Wick. I’m running like…like Tom fucking Cruise - except Tom Cruise efter a heavy meal.
I see the neighbours start coming tae their windae’s. Watching me. Looking on. Hands covering their mouth. “Oh my”, they must be thinking. “Such bravery”. I hold my hands up – to tell them, “Naw, it’s awrite. I’m nae hero – am just doing the right thing.”
I’m almost there, he’s starting to come into view properly now. I can see him scuttling about in the snow in the middle of the road, trying tae escape the cold handed grip of the snow. I’m shitting myself. What if he’s hurt? What if something bad has happened? I get closer, hands stretching out, ready tae rescue. But…something isnae right.
So I start squinting my eyes in the darkness, as I get right up tae him. And that’s when I see it.
It isnae oor cat at all. Turns out it was a bloody bin bag and Ringo was sitting in the house the whole time, sleeping.
Honestly, that cat. He really is suhin else.
For more funny stories head over here on the website, or check out my books.
The Watercooler Review: The Meg (2018)
A big blockbuster B movie with a bundle of thrills, fun, dumb, edge of the seat action that will have you paddling your feet along with The Stath.
A likeable bunch of characters, and a script sprinkled through with quips and humour. Doesn't take itself too seriously, but takes itself seriously at the right points.
It is exactly what you want it to be; a popcorn movie about a big fuck-off shark and some utterly crazy set pieces.
A few moments don’t land exactly where the filmmakers may have intended, including what feels like a slightly jammed in romantic subplot and a few ‘emotional’ moments between characters but overall, it’s worth watching because it is a lot of fun.
Roll on the Ben Wheatley directed sequel.
Rejected Jokes: Yesterday's News, Today #2
Photo by Tom Mossholder
Another week, another little packet of rejected jokes!
Hopefully they give you a giggle!
Cx
Yesterday’s Jokes, Today
Irvine Welsh said work needs to start on a Trainspotting 3 film before the cast all become OAPs. Although if they do wait, we could see Begbie brawl in a bingo hall and the famous tagline change to Choose Life…Insurance
Singer Eddi Reader and some SNP MPs have hit out at a new Netflix series for branding Scots ‘stingy and miserable’. Plans for a protest to be organised outside the offices of Netflix have been scrapped however, as “there is nae way we’re paying THAT to travel over there.”
A giant teddy was kidnapped by jokers who demanded two sausage rolls for his release. Rainbow the bear vanished last week before a ransom note was found on a pavilion bench. Conspiracy theorists believe that Paddington may be behind it all, because he’s absolutely sick of being fed marmalade.
A letter revealing how Albert Einstein predicted the evils of Adolf Hitler almost a decade before he came to power is tipped to fetch £1500 at auction. Many now believe that E=MC squared stands for Evil = Mein Kampf, squared.
Mamma Mia actor Dominic Cooper has had his fourth car stolen in the space of a year. He’s sending out an SOS.
Gwyneth Paltrow has been mocked for claiming she started the ‘trend’ of wearing Face Masks. As long as she doesn’t store them where they does her candles, she can claim all she wants.
A conservative think tank has called for an independent inquiry into Boris Johnson's fiancée, Carrie Symonds, and her "possible influence" in government. That’s an adaptation of Lady MacBeth that nobody wants to see.
Rejected Jokes: yesterday’s news, today
Photo by Bruno Bučar on Unsplash
Hello!
For the past wee while, I’ve been writing and submitting jokes for a comedy show covering news headlines.. Haven’t yet made the cut, it’s possibly one of the difficult of writing styles I’ve attempted, those who an do it are immensely skilled, but some of the jokes still make me giggle.
So, here’s a semi regular segment that I’ll start posting - Rejected Jokes: Last Week In The News.
Any jokes that I’ve written for different opportunities or shows that don’t make the cut, I’ll post them on here.
Might give you a giggle. Might make you groan.
Sometimes the best ones make you do both.
Enjoy
Cx
Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash
Yesterday’s News, Today
A concerned animal lover told Edinburgh Zoo she’s spotted a fallen penguin on their live stream, but it turned out to be a rock. Apparently she wrote to make sure they p-p-p-p-p-picked up the penguin.
Baby Boomers now have their own radio station offering nostalgic tunes from the golden era of pop. Baby boomers are excited to tune into the new DAB station, just as soon as they find out what a DAB station is.
Sir Andy Murray has mocked his Mum’s cooking skills – after she praised ready made dinners online. In other words, he had no love for his Mum’s cooking and took fault in what she served. Sorry.
A couple who got hitched during lockdown told how their only wedding breakfast guest was a pet rabbit. Later that day, they were joined by a hare, a dormouse, a woman named Alice and the Mad Hatter.
A priest in the Republic of Ireland has made takeaway ashes available for parishioners to administer at home on Ash Wednesday. Fr Brian Brady teamed up with a shop in Clomany, County Donegal to provide holy ashes in sauce containers. Did somebody say Just Pray?