The big 500 and patrick Ness

Merry Christmas!  I'm saying this because it's basically the most efficient thing I've ever done.  Instead of having to write all those Christmas cards that I'd probably still be delivering next Christmas (Since my school schedule is all weird, I probably won't get to see everyone that would be on my recipient list.) I can just put one giant Christmas card here.  Done.  So, here it is.

Dear everyone who reads my blog

Merry Christmas!

from Joe



Yeah, I like to keep it short.


So, the blog now has 499 pageviews.  Close enough!  I'll celebrate the big 5-0-0, plus Christmas, as I usually do.  Some writing.  But instead of posting my usual short story, I'll make it special.  below is the first chapter of my book.  Well, two chapters if you count a prologue as a chapter.  Have fun!

Two more things...

Yeah, I've started a new book.  I reaaaaally wanted to write this as soon as I thought of the idea, and it took me an evening before I gave in.  It's an epic fantasy (I literally mean epic here, i'm not just bigging up my book) that i'm really enjoying writing.  It's quite a challenge since there are so many fantasy books, and you really have to try hard to keep it original.

Secondly, Starlight recently contacted my favorite author, Patrick Ness, and yesterday he sent me a box of goodies, including a card written from him.

 Among the things he sent me were audio books of the chaos walking trilogy (I highly recommend it)  And a monster calls (I also highly recommend that), a monsters of men T-shirt, a signed copy of a monster calls, and of course the card
Methinks it's time to re-live the magic of the chaos walking series for a second time.... (I talk like gollum when i'm excited)



Left:  The audio books
Below: Everything in the package.


The card read:

Joseph:
(Which is my brother's name by the way)

Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
I've heard nothing but wonderful things about "The world" (From people who wouldn't lie!) and in fact it sounds like some of it isn't a million miles away from my own next book for teens (called "more than this") I wish you the very best of luck with this and cant wait to get my own signed copy one day!  I hope you like some of this stuff I sent along (No worries if you don't) but also, just to say, you've picked the best job in the world.  Some writers complain but I get the sense from the things you've said that you and I know better.  Great to have you along for the journey fellow traveler!
All the best and happy holidays,
Patrick Ness

Thanks to Patrick and Starlight for that!


That's it for now.  I'm not feeling too great at the moment so I may not be in school tomorrow, so if I don't see anybody, have a great Christmas, or a happy Hanukkah, or a lovely Ramadan, or any other holiday that you celebrate.

Stay frosty,

-Joe




Here's my book, by the way.  I'd love to see what everyone thinks so leave a comment below if you have something to say.

The world by Joseph Wills

Prologue

South London, 18^th November, 1986, 8:30 PM

Herb James silently cracked open the door to the basement. He had been waiting for this moment for months.  Months of snooping. Hours and Hours of planning.  What happened here could affect the lives of thousands.
 Herb scanned each corridor looking down the barrel of his hunting rifle, making sure that there were no traps.  Tripwire mines, trap floorboards, anything that could pose a threat to him.  He slid open a door and quickly capped two guards in the leg trying to control the heavy rifle as it almost flew out of his hands.  He was filled with anger and pain, taking him away from his friends and family as they became aware of what he was doing.  Herb knew he was getting closer when he saw a sign, displaying the character 4.  Loads of people had infiltrated the building, and the few that had got out had said the lab was at level zero.  He suddenly felt something; he sensed that he was not alone.  He knew that any soldiers were shooting to maim, not kill, but it could be the end of it all if they got hold of him.  And then, as he opened a metal door to a giant storage room, he was struck with immense force in his stomach.  A boiling sting spread across his torso, the pain gripping onto his breath, taking it away from him.  And as he fell to the ground, blood pouring from his stomach and staining the snow covered floor, he knew it was over.   As the guards began to shout to each other, a few of them taking shots towards him, he crawled over to a huge steel crate, Tears rolling from his eyes and blending into his blood. 
He had one smokescreen left.   With luck he could get past these guards and just get to the mainframe before he bled out. 
After about two minutes getting ready, Herb decided to go.  It was only his first time using weapons, and he had never used a smokescreen before, but he had remembered what he and his friends had said about them.  Pull the pin, wait for five seconds for the smokescreen to fill, and then go.  He pulled the pin off and feebly threw the capsule around the crate.  He began to count to five in his head.  While he was doing so, he thought about what had happened in the past few months.  One.  Two.
How stupid it was to stage a break in.  Three.  Four.    How he had given it all up for some stupid conspiracy theory.
Sensing what could be his final moments, he stood up with great difficulty.  Five! Herb dashed out into the warehouse, wheezing and sobbing in pain, but he still ran.  He looked up to see a walkway, and realized that all the soldiers were up there, with that; he sped up to a very fast run, still weaving around boxes and crates.  And finally, with about two seconds to spare, he reached a second metal door, slid it open, jumped inside, pulled it shut as hard as he could, and jammed a nearby chair under the handle.
He was physically, and mentally, broken.  He was going to die.  He was certain of it.  He couldn’t walk.  He couldn’t even move his foot.  His heart had only stopped pounding when he looked up to see a single soldier pointing a pistol at his brain.  Herb didn’t care anymore.  “G-g-g-g-g go o-o-on. D-d-do it.”
The soldier lowered his weapon and pulled the piece of fabric covering half of his face down to his neck, revealing a calm and sympathetic face. 
“You’re in a fatal state.  And I’m sorry for that.  I truly am.  But I have to do this.” He pointed the gun at Herb once more.  “It’ll save you.”  And with that, Herb realized that it wasn’t a normal gun. “N-n-n-no.” 
“Y-You can K-kill m-m-me.  B-but y-you’re n-n-never putting m-me in there,” But it was too late.
Herb didn’t even have time to scream before the soldier’s finger pulled on the trigger.

South London housing estate, 12^th April 2011, 4:45

Laura Graham had no idea what was going on.  A group of men had just stormed into her flat, brutalized her roommate, and were now chasing her through the back streets of the estate which she lived in.  Her heart was pounding from fatigue and adrenaline as she hopped a wooden fence into someone’s garden and sprinted across it.  She wondered if she should just see who the people were, but when she considered stopping, her mind dismissed the idea.  She quickly glanced behind her before vaulting the fence at the other side of the garden.  They were just meters away.  Laura landed on the other side of the fence and collapsed in the street.  And then, when she saw the situation, desperation streaked inside her.  The men were closing in from all directions.  She had nowhere to run.  She slowly began to realize who these people were.  Why they wanted her.  And when she did, she wanted to cry.  There was a sudden explosion of noise behind her and a second after something hit her foot.  Laura squealed in pain and instantly lost her balance.  Her foot suddenly felt so warm.  And then the pain came.  She realized that someone had shot her in the foot.  Weeping from the pain, she could do nothing but watch as a masked man in full body armour began to bandage her foot as another man injected her with something.  A few seconds later she was out.

Cambridge, 14^th of April, 2011, 8:36

John Ronen had just clicked on the link for the conspiracy site he had become addicted to when his mother called up to him in his room. 
“John, there’s a man here to-“ His mum was cut off there.  What followed was a loud thump.
What the hell? John thought.  He got up from his office chair and cautiously walked to the door.  He put his hand on the handle, but shockingly, it swung open before he could do it.  There, at the door, stood someone who John didn’t expect in his wildest dreams to see.  A man in full body armour.  As soon as he saw John, the man plunged a syringe into his arm, letting him fall to the ground soon after.  In John’s last second of consciousness he realized what was happening, and tried to scream.

Chapter 1

“Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine!”  Daniel Edward’s eyes burned as a figure pulled open a pair of curtains at the far end of the room.  “What?  Where am I?  Who are you?”  The last thing he had remembered was being in the houses of parliament, on a tour.  Now he was laying in a huge king sized bed in a house he had never seen in his life. 
The man who had opened the curtains causally strolled to the bedside and perched on the end of it.
“How ya’ doin? That head o’ yours alright?”  The man seemed very friendly to Daniel, almost as if they had known each other for years.  Daniel didn’t think he had ever had so many different emotions at once.   Angry, scared, shocked, puzzled, excited, and mostly in a state of complete disarray.  He needed answers.  “Who the hell are you!? What happened to me?! Where’s my mum?”  The man stayed calm. 
“Alright, settle down now.  Name’s Herb. Pleasure to meet you!” Herb eagerly stuck out a hand, which Daniel took reluctantly after some hesitation.  “We saw you wandering around out there, presumed you were a newcomer.  So we did what any neighbourly person would do.  We took you in.  Oh, and you had a nasty scar on your forehead, so I patched that up for you!”  As a reflex, Daniel reached to his forehead, feeling tiny stitches across his brow. “But where’s my mum?  What happened to London, because that’s not London,” He said, pointing to the window that was revealing a wide road, dotted with colourful houses sitting at the pavements.  A female English voice suddenly called out from downstairs.  “Come get it!” 
Herb then stood up from the bedside and walked towards the door.  “Why don’t you come down for some breakfast? No rush though. Just come down the stairs, second door on the right.”
“But-“Daniel was just about to erupt, but the look on Herb’s face told him to play along.  So Daniel kept silent.  Herb creaked open the door and slipped out of the room.  After 5 minutes, Daniel managed to get out of bed, feeling oddly numb, and limp over to a long mirror on the right wall.  He inspected his head.  His dark brown, slightly long spiked hair looked like it always did.  Underneath his hair, on his forehead, there was a scabbed over scar, as Herb had said.  There were about five stitches woven neatly into it.  He took a peek at what he was wearing, a dark blue open robe with striped pyjamas.  He worked up the courage to leave the bedroom, shaking with fear, and get down the huge wooden staircase, and into the kitchen.  He was struck by light as he entered.  A huge window covered the whole of the far wall, light flooding in, blinding Daniel temporarily.  After adjusting his eyes to the light, he looked down to see a small wooden table with four chairs.  Herb occupied one of them, smiling politely at him.  His lightly wrinkled face and cropped blonde hair were illuminated perfectly in the light. “Daniel! Come in! Sit down.” 
“How do you know my name?”  Herb produced a laminated piece of paper from his pocket, like a driver’s license.
“Had your ID card on you,” Herb started to read information from the card.  “Name: Daniel Edwards, Age: 16 years.  Mother: Rose Edwards, Father: Nicolas Edwards-“Daniel cut in, shocked.
“Where did that come from? I never had an ID card, and if I did, who made it?” 
“Hey, we all got ID cards.  Gotta carry em’ around or you have to go all the way to the capital, up north-“
“Entry time? What’s that?” Herb quickly shook his head in a shut up kind of way, and with a nervous chuckle, spluttered the words “All in good time, Daniel,” and inserted the ID card into his pocket.
Daniel was still in complete shock.  He had woken up in a place that felt far away from London, in a house of complete strangers, someone had printed every detail of his life onto a piece of paper, and just had to ‘play along’.  But he was so scared, he decided that listening to Herb was the best thing he could do at the moment.  All the time he had been talking to Herb, he hadn’t realized, another two people were in the room.  A girl, around 19 years old was standing at a stove, flipping bacon around in a sizzling pan, and a boy, who looked more Daniel’s age, sitting across the table from him.  “Of course! I forgot to introduce you t’ the other members of the house.  Daniel, meet John.  John, Daniel.” John smiled awkwardly and held out a stiff hand, which Daniel took.
“And this here is Laura.  She’s an excellent cook.”  Laura instantly seemed friendlier.  “Hi! Pleasure to meet you.”
“Erm.. Hi,” Daniel was still trying not to shake from the confusion of the weird place.
Herb delved into his pockets and brought out two more laminated cards.  “Two outside passes.  How ‘bout you skip education today and I’ll show ya’ around your new home?”  Soon after a very appetizing breakfast was served.
It looked like two rinds of normal bacon, but as soon as Daniel bit off a piece, he discovered it wasn’t bacon at all.
“What is this-“Daniel blurted before realizing what he was saying.  Herb looked puzzled.
“Are you sure you didn’t hurt your taste buds last night?”  Herb replied sarcastically.  “It’s good old fashioned Rhubarb flavoured bacon.” 
Daniel tried to act as if he had heard of the disgusting idea.  “Oh! Sorry.”  He looked at Laura.  “No offense.”
“None taken.”  Laura replied cheerily.  She was acting as if Herb took strangers in daily.
After choking down the horrible bacon, Herb and John got up to get dressed, but as Herb walked out of the room Daniel grabbed him subtly by the wrist and whispered, “I want answers.”

Daniel flung open the huge mahogany wardrobe across the room from the bed.  Surprisingly, there wasn’t much variety.  A pair of suit trousers, a worn T-shirt about two sizes too small for Daniel, a pair of grey cargo trousers, a huge hoodie, and a Women’s frock.  In the end, Daniel settled for the cargo trousers and the small t-shirt. 
Daniel collapsed onto the bed.  What had just happened?  Where was he? Where was his family?  And who was Herb?  Was he a murderer?  Had he locked up his Mother? Or was he dead?  Was this heaven?  Daniel had to hold back tears.  He would play along until Herb gave him answers, and if he didn’t, Daniel would run.  He would call the police.  He would find his mother.  Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Herb crept in.” Are ya coming or are you gonna lie there all day?”  Daniel reluctantly stood up, the tiny shirt choking him.  It was a crimson red, with the word football printed across the front in white.
They descended the giant winding staircase and watched as John and Laura flung open the door and disappears down the road, which, as the name suggested, was scattered with maple trees.
Daniel got really creeped out when he stepped outside.  It was humid.  Normally, Daniel wouldn’t have even thought about it twice.  But something caught his mind.  It was winter.  He had seen the weather.  It was supposed to be bitterly cold for the next few weeks.  Everywhere in Britain.  So that came down to two things.  He wasn’t in England anymore.  He had been given a sleeping pill and shipped off to a warm European country.  Or, he had been in some sort of coma.  Asleep for weeks. Months.  Maybe even years.  But, Herb had said he had seen Daniel stumbling across the street last night.  The very night before.  He couldn’t have been asleep for that long.  This was too weird.  Daniel followed Herb down the driveway, taking in his surroundings.  It looked like a normal day.  The next door neighbour was gardening.  A man wearing a brown jumpsuit was getting into his car a few doors up.  Laura and John were strolling down the road, accompanied by two other kids.  There. In the corner of his eye.  A man wearing body armour.   Dead white, full body armour.  A full face helmet displaying different accessories.  A thin, blacked out visor covered his eyes.  Just above that, a torch was taped neatly onto the metal that covered the man’s face.  Two small metal grills were fixed onto the metal helmet, displaying the man’s mouth.  That was the only part of the man Daniel could see.  He had to be police.  Or military.  But either way, Daniel didn’t think twice.  He launched himself forward, just about to shout out to the man, when Herb pulled him back with great force.  One small yanking motion and he was back where he was in the first place.  That was it.  He couldn’t trust Herb at all.  Why else would He stop Daniel from interacting with the police?  He had to get away.  But before he knew it, Herb had shoved him into the passenger seat, locked the door and pulled out of the driveway. 





Daniel glared at Herb as he drove through the identical streets of maple drive, chattering happily as he did.  After a while, Herb realized that Daniel was staring at him and mumbled,”What?”
“Why did you just bundle me up and throw me in the car?”  Daniel replied bitterly.
Herb continued to stare at Daniel blankly.  After about twenty seconds Daniel huffed and said, “When I was walking up to that policeman!” Through clenched teeth.  “Oh, that was just an Abrexi corporation officer.  There good, they protect us, but they just don’t like to be annoyed.”  He said it in a kind of nervous tone.  “No offense.”  Herb added.  Daniel remembered the man’s armour.  He had never seen a police officer that looked like that, not even on the news.  He looked like Robocop.  That old movie.  Daniel was definitely considering that he was in the future.  Even though Herb had said he had seen him last night.  But Herb could have been lying.  Easily.  Daniel didn’t remember a thing about last night.  There was no time. Daniel had to move.  And fast.  This madman was going to kill him, he knew it.
Daniel didn’t even wait a split second.  He spun round and tugged at the door handle. Locked.  He glanced out the window.  And his heart skipped a beat.  The dreamy, residential area they had been in minutes ago had been replaced by a dead, barren desert.  It had all gone.  Daniel gave up.  Forget about Herb killing him, he was about to kill Herb. 
Tears streaming down his face, Daniel broke down.  “Where are we??!!”  Herb stayed silent.  Ignoring him.  “What’s happening?! Tell me!!!!”  Then Herb halted the car and started talking.  Quickly and seriously.  His voice had lost all tone of Cheeriness.  “Listen very carefully and don’t interrupt.  You are in great danger here.  We all are.  Not from me.  From them.  Abrexi.  If you show any sign that you want to get outside, they’ll kill you.  They even monitor conversations.  I’m not even sure we’re safe talking now.”
Daniel started to feel different.  It was the urgency in Herb’s voice.  Daniel suddenly felt like he could trust Herb.  Like he should trust Herb.  “Daniel, I am extremely sorry for that this has happened to you.  But you have to trust me.  In ten days, I can explain everything.  I will help you find your mother.  And I’ll get you out of this god forsaken place.  But you have to trust me!” 
Daniel had temporarily forgotten about his mother.  “Where is my mother?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure she’s safe.  And your father is-“Herb pulled the weird ID card from Daniel’s pocket, stared at it for a few seconds, tossed it back onto Daniels lap and finished off his sentence. “Still dead.”
Daniel didn’t have another option.  He had to stick with Herb.  Something told him that it was the right thing to do.
“Ok.” Daniel said wearily.
Herb smiled and nodded at Daniel.  He was going to stick with Herb for ten days.  That’s when Herb promised that he would explain everything.  If he took any longer than that, he would give Herb one chance to explain himself, and if he didn’t, he would run. 
The sound of a car stopping filled Daniels ears.  When he looked out of Herb’s window, he saw a car idling next to the one they were in.  Daniel saw two Abrexi officers sitting in the car.  After what Herb had said the look of them sent a chill down his spine.
“Everything all right here?”  Asked one of them. 
And then Herb went back to the way he was when Daniel woke up.  The cheery Londoner.
“Its fine, officer, my car stalled is all.”             

(Keep in mind I was ten when I wrote that part, so be nice)                                   

Some info on the book

Sorry I haven't been posting in a while.  It's because I- well, i just haven't been posting in a while.

Here's a nutshell sized update on my life since my last post-

Still getting book published

Still writing Red Zone

Getting tempted to write some short stories

Started reading the diviners, making it the fourth book i'm currently reading (The power of six, the true tale of billy dean, the hobbit, the diviners)

Caught a cold, or a virus, or an infection or something

That's it.

Oh yeah, I got some clarification on publicity for my book when it's going to be published.  If you're planning on buying it, it'll be on amazon, on kindle and adobe glassbook (I didn't know adobe had an e-reader) and hopefully in mainstream book shops.  The reason for the "Maybe" is because it's the book shops choice to stock it or not, so we'll see.  Of course, you will be able to find it in libraries as well.  Me and my family can pursue any publicity ideas we want to as well, so that's cool.

People have been asking what the book is about a lot, and when they do, my brain decides to turn off and then I have no idea what the book is about.  So I'm gonna put a little description here so I can tell people to come here if they want to know.

This is the "blurb" an editor wrote me for my gift copy at penguin (still loving that, by the way):

Daniel Edwards wakes up in a world that is not his own.  There are people he doesn't know, a school he doesn't understand, and, most worryingly of all, policemen who are willing to kill.  One thing's for sure:  If he stays here, he'll die.

But how will he escape the Abrexi- a corporation with seemingly unbelievable power?

He must put his strength, intelligence and courage to the test against an enemy he could never have imagined.

That pretty much sums it up well.  It's better than my mum's explanation (Kind of a future setting) and mine, that's even worse (It's quite hard to explain)

Finally, I'm going to start putting some of my writing on wattpad, so check out my profile (http://www.wattpad.com/user/The7OfClubs)  regularly if you want to read some more of my stuff.

Wow, this blog has steered right into the direction of "All about my writing" now.  That was not intended.

That's all for now.  Thanks for reading.

Stay frosty,

-Joe

Challenge.... Completed

"I would love to be have a book i've written published by time i'm 13, at the most."  That was the challenge I set myself in year 5 of primary school when we had to give ourselves targets for the future.  Well, Challenge completed.


On Friday we got a call from Sarah at starlight.  My mum answered and I knew that something was going on as she talked.  As it turns out, Live it publishing, a company dedicated to getting new authors off the ground, loved the book and want to publish it.  Cue (happy) scream.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that in two months time, my book will be on the shelves for anyone to buy.  I can't comprehend that a professional publishing company has read my book, and is prepared to put a lot of money into it because they believe it can sell.  It still feels like The world (That's the book, by the way) is just a daydream, and that really, it'll never be successful.

Thanks so much to starlight for securing this deal, to live it publishing for believing in my book, and to whoever was round my house the day I came up with the idea.  I think we had a Nerf war and then I dreamed about Nerf wars that night which led me to the dream that spawned the idea.  Phew.


Also, my internet blogging crusade thingy is not yet over.  I still need to get the blog even more popular so people can find out about the book.

Well, that's it for now.  Keep coming back here for information on the book and notifications of events / where to buy the book when it comes out.


Oh yeah, and I've began my journey through the pile of books that penguin gave me.  First up:  The true story of Billy dean.  I'm about halfway through and i'm considering started the power of six as well.


Stay frosty!

-Joe

Puffin/ Penguin books

Books.  From the moment you walk in to penguin offices at the strand, they're everywhere.  On the walls, in the tables.  I just wanted a make a massive pile of them and fall asleep in it.

So, this is the anticipated "Penguin books" Post.  Settle down, because it's gonna be a long one.  Make some tea, or coffee.  If that's not your thing, then maybe just some water.  Or milk, everyone loves milk.  Orange juice would be okay, if you fancy it.  I wouldn't say to break out the liquor though.  If you're drinking before 3 then you got yourself a problem.

But enough about beverages, here we go.

At 4 'o clock yesterday afternoon, Me and my parents met up with Sarah, the wonderful person from starlight who's been working on my wish, and arranged the visit, and entered 80 the Strand (You know something's going to be posh when the building's name is it's address) as we entered the reception we were handed VIP badges and clipped them to our clothes.  I suddenly felt very special.  After 5 minutes in the reception we met Laura, an editor at puffin.  as we navigated the confusing and disorientating halls of the magnificent building (I'm still dizzy from it) I was surprised to hear that she had read my book.  It sounded weird to actually hear the opinion of it from someone I didn't know.

The tour started off like most tours do.  We were lead through what could possibly be the best office in the world, at least for me.  I mean, the books.  Seriously, THE BOOKS! I'm tempted to do one of those beloved children's poems where it's a list.  They were...
On the counters...

I was taking pictures on my ipod so forgive me
for the shoddy quality.

And that's pretty much it.  But still, it was amazing how many there were.  I met a woman who gave me an insight on the process of picking the size, paper and font of the books and their covers.  I was sent off from this stop with my very first gift of the occasion, a nice hardback copy of the latest diary of a wimpy kid book.  I also met a woman who worked on creating picture books, who demonstrated how they put together children's books. (Not literally)  After that I met Ben, one of Penguin/Puffin's designers.  He gave me some books which he had designed the cover for (I wasn't sure if I could have it or not, so I was just standing awkwardly with the books until it was confirmed I could take them)  Ben then came along with us to the top floor, where we entered a spacious private conference room with a great view and some giant surprises.  I am talking, of course, about the plate of Ben's cookies on the table.  Not really, but that was a perk.  Firstly, we stepped out onto the balcony to admire the amazing view of a lit up London from above.  It was a rare opportunity to see the unusual beauty of the city from an amazing viewpoint like that.  Plus I could swear the building to the left was where that last scene of Skyfall was filmed.

That was the best shot I could get of the skyfall building.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Once we were back inside it was time to address the   two gift bags I had spotted before.  Ben handed me a book from one of them and I stared right through it.  At first I didn't recognize it, and my mum and dad were talking amongst themselves.  But then I recognized the name on the book.  When I regained consciousness 20 minutes later, I was ecstatic.  It was my book.  Let me explain.  Penguin has, very generously, printed 3 copies of The World, my story, complete with a cover Ben designed, and a blurb an editor wrote, and gifted them to me.  I'd like to step out of this and thank everyone at penguin very much for taking the time to read my book and print it for me.  Later on, on the way home, we were discussing about what to do with them like they were the rings from "Lord of the rings."  "We'll give one to the dwarves, one to the      hobbits, and the third one can go to that Sauron bloke.  He seems nice."

Me and Ben with the book.

I unloaded the rest of the gift bags, which were full to the brim with stuff.  Today we calculated I was gifted £170 worth of penguin books.  Here's what they gave me:

Assassin's creed: The secret crusade by Oliver Bowden
Assassin's creed: Revelations by Oliver Bowden
Assassin's creed: Forsaken by Oliver Bowden
Colin Fischer   by Ashley Edward Miller and Zack Stentz
The true tale of the monster billy dean telt by hisself by David Almond
No easy day:  The navy seal mission that killed osama bin laden by Mark Owen
The serpent's shadow by Rick Riordan
The power of six by Pittacus Lore
The three musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

I love a big book.

Gladiator: Fight for Freedom by Simon Scarrow
The sacrifice by Charlie Higson
Fairy tales from the brothers Grimm
Diary of a wimpy kid: the third wheel by Jeff Kinney
A DVD of I am number four

Amazingly, out of all those books, there's only
One I have already, and all of them i'm
interested in reading.

All of my goodies together.

After all this gift giving I had a long talk with Laura and Ben about my writing, the book, how I like to write, and about my new book, when suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and the biggest surprise begins (This one is up there with the cookies) A woman announces that there's a visitor for me and in pops Charlie Higson (I'm sure everyone knows him, but if not, he's a famous adult and young adult author who has also written and produced TV shows)  At right about this point my already dropped jaw falls off.  He takes a seat and explains that he's read my book and that he really enjoyed it, and what followed was a long talk about reading and writing.  It was amazing to talk to a famous author who's books I've read and to know how he plans his books and how long it takes to write them.  Charlie signed my copy of his latest book in "the enemy" series (Check those out, they're pretty damn good) and was on his way.  and so ends the epic tale of  gifts, cover design, authors and cookies.  

I'd like to thank Sarah and the starlight foundation for arranging this amazing experience, and helping to make my dream come true.  Thank you as well to Penguin for the opportunity, taking the time out to  create an early copy of my book, to Laura for the tour and Ben for creating the cover of the book and the tour as well.

This has been an amazing experience.

I'm off to go and surround myself in books.  Hope you enjoyed this extensive post.

Stay frosty

-Joe

London!

I really should think before I write.  Remember the last post I did (or the one before that.... I don't remember) Where I said I'd be writing a new book?  Well, change of plans... I've really been enjoying writing Red Zone and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to write the other one or not.  I wanted to write a book, but not the one I had planned.  So yeah, I decided to write Red zone as a full book instead of a short story! Yaaaaay! But yeah, this is gonna be a great book, and I'm having real fun writing it.  I'll still put the first part on wattpad for all to read.


On a completely different note, is it only me that chooses everything they want for christmas and then try not to think of anything else in fear you'll change your mind?  That keeps happening to me.  I've decided I wanted a kindle and then I hear what others are getting and I'm like, "Damn, Do I REALLY want a kindle?"

I'm gonna put this hear to stop me from doing this.
"Yes, I do want a kindle."




 I'm going To PENGUIN TOMORROW! Sorry, that was an unnecessary usage of caps.  Anyway, it's extremely excited.  The tour starts at four, but I get the day off school to avoid me becoming a potato for the week.  That was a bad simile/metaphor/ whatever that was.  Potatoes don't get tired.  So that'll be fun.  On Wednesday/Thursday I'll make a post and tell you all about it.  Apparently I can take pictures so it'd be great to get them on as well.

That's all for now people.

Stay frosty.

-Joe

Ok, Ok, here's the writing

It's saturday (I'm so clever) but I know it as "Counter Strike Saturday."  Over the last month I started this.  Let me clarify.  Counter-strike: source is a cult ten year old PC game that was originally a mod.  People still play on it today, including me.  I'm not sure when I started, but now every saturday at eight o clock I put the headphones on and prepare to play counter strike.  I have to admit, it's freaking fun.  Anyway, i'm doing this now because I got bored of counter strike early today.

In other news, there's a wind farm being built near my home.  Everyone thought that they were going to be terrible, they would be an eyesore and they would be so loud no one would be able to sleep.  They're absolutely awesome though. (I was never against them, by the way.  Alternative energy sources ARE the answer!) I think when people are about to say something bad about the wind farm they look at it and get hypnotized by the turbines spinning and then suddenly start spouting positive things about it.  it was their plan all along! Spread the word!!!

Thirdly, I've decided to start using twitter properly.  If you want to hear me talk about things in 140 characters (i'm opposed to the word limit by the way.  I'm very vivid in descriptions...) then go to my twittering account at the link below:
https://twitter.com/
I heard that people do flash fiction on twitter also, capitalizing the small word limit.  I might just have a go at that.

Ok, now, what everyone's been reading to.  Some writing.  Anyone here heard of a competition called "Around the world in 80 words?" Well you have now.  It's a short story contest for children from schools all around the UK to compete in, and like suggested in the title, the stories must be 80 words.  Yes, you heard me.  That's.... Difficult.  Not Mental maths difficult (Admit it, if someone asks you what "6+8 is" you need some time to think) but getting a cat in a santa hat difficult.  Anyway, I wound up writing 6 of them.  Here they are!

#1

You wake up to banging on the door.  As soon as you open your eyes you remember what happened last night.  Your heart leaps in panic and guilt.  The only memory you have is hazy.  You remember a flash of light and a scream.  On your bedside table is a gun.  It confirms your worst fears.  There’s another knock.  A voice from outside says they’re police.  They’re here.

Police at the door. Gun on the table. What do you do?



#2

If you don’t make it out of here then the world has ended.  All that you’ve done has lead up to this.  Now you need to escape.  As you vault a log you hear the harrowing swish of their capes.  They’re not far behind now.  You can see the clearing ahead.  You’re almost out. Weaving in and out of the giant trees, you suddenly stumble over something, a tree root.  You can’t get back up. 
It’s all over.

#3

The floor tremors and everyone is thrown around.  You hit the ground with a thump, your head spinning.
“The hull is almost breached!” Shouts the engineer.  You stagger up and peer at a monitor on the wall.  The hulking enemy ship is suspended in space. 
“We need to fire the missiles.” Says the strategist.  You need to issue the order.  No one on the ship can survive otherwise.  100 people on this ship, or 100 on the other.  Can you?

#4

You stumble across the burning room, coughing heavily as you do. You can hear the engulfing fire crackle, a noise so loud yet so quiet you can feel the heat up against your body, making you feel like it’s everywhere.  You can barely see through the smoke stinging your eyes.  You finally make it to the open window.  You have to jump out, or you’ll be killed in the fire. 
You climb onto the ledge, close your eyes, and jump.

#5

A monster’s howl.  A ghoul’s groan.  I’m sure something’s inside.  The sheets are drenched in sweat.  It’s just the wind.  It’s just the pipes, I tell myself, but I don’t believe it.  The floorboards creak.  It came from the stairs.  Someone is coming up.  And another one.  I try to take in a breath, but I can’t.  I need to get out.  I’m too terrified to move.  There’s another cackle outside. More creaking.
It’s coming.
It’s not pipes.
It’s coming.

#6

 There’s nothing inside the truck.  That was my only hope.  After the second one, there are hardly any more people.  My throat feels dry and raspy already.  It’s only been five hours since I ran out of water.  I need to push through.  However thirsty I am, I have to get back to the town.  See her one more time.  I reach the top of hill and what I see in the distance shocks me.

A shadow in the distance.

I'd like to know which ones you, the readers, think are best, so comment with which one you like. I'll leave a link below to the around the world in 80 words competition if anyone's interested.  As for now....

Stay frosty!

-Joe

http://www.youngwriters.co.uk/80words-secondary-competition.php

Some news!

This week is one of the shortest school weeks for me.  I get Wednesdays off, as I said earlier, and then today is "academic planning day" at my school, where you meet with your tutor and "Discuss your progress and goals."  Let me show you an average academic planning day.
Tutor:  So, hows school going?
Me: Good.
Tutor:  Are your lessons going well?
Me: Yep.
Tutor: have you joined some clubs?
Me: I have.
Tutor: Do you have any problems you have to discuss?
Me: Hmmmm... Nope.
Tutor:  Okay, that's great.  see you next week.
Me: Bye.

Now because of that, we get the rest of the day off.  Yaaay!  And Friday is teacher training day.  Again, Yaaay!

I want to start this post with a thanks.  The blog of joe has been up with a week and since then had 205 pageviews.  It's safe to say this is the most popular online venture I have done.  Well, excluding a water fight video I filmed and posted on youtube that got 1,300 views.  Anyway, thanks to everyone for reading the blog, sharing it on facebook and telling your friends about it.

Also, it's that time again.  More writing at 250 pageviews! I have some things i'd like to share on the blog that I wrote earlier this week.  They're 6, VERY short stories- I've said too much already.  Wait till 250 views.

Finally, there's a big decision that i'm thinking of making.  Well, when I say thinking of making, it means i've pretty much made the decision.  I have a habit of quickly picking things without looking around for other stuff.  So if I was shopping for, say, a kindle, somebody would tell me the keyboard one has free 3G on it and i'd just be like, "Ooh, I want that one!" Without looking at the others.  (Glad I didn't decide I wanted the keyboard one, apparently it's the worst.)  I'm rambling again, aren't I?  Gotta stop doing that...
So, back to this mystical decision of mine.  I've heard that since I wrote my book, my writing skills have improved dramatically.  Hearing this, I'm starting to contemplate writing another novel.  Yes, I only just finished my last book, but if you love doing it and it doesn't hurt anyone, why stop?  This idea is one i've been sitting on since 2010 when I first envisaged the world it's set in (That sounded a little pretentious, but i'll go with it.) Ever since I sort of built up the world's lore as a hobby.  i've changed it and changed it around so much to make it feel right.  For this reason, it seemed like a really good book idea where i've got everything set to go.  I really didn't want to muck it up and after about two failed book attempts, I decided to wait until I felt ready to do it.

Now is that time.


Damn, that was epic!

But i have to refrain from writing this first, because I still want to finish Red zone, my 4 volume short story i shared with y'all the other day.  I'm really enjoying writing it and I don't want to abandon it because I get caught up in "Novel Fever."




That's all for now peoples.  Keep on sharing!

As always, Stay frosty.



-Joe

There's no feeling like mild excitement...

Everyone probably knows that in a school science lab the chairs are backless stools.  now, because of my hypermobility, I can't sit on these for more than five minutes before i'm in agony from back pain.  So, it was arranged that a stool with a back would be given to me in my science lesson.  The only problem is, though, in other lessons the other kids take it to their places, so when I come in the teacher tells me to get the chair for myself and I end up doing a walk of shame down the classroom with my chair, because to everyone else it looks like i'm just taking the chair.  I just want to clarify that to everyone in my science class.

In other news, Someone threw a football at my head today.  Ow.  It was intentional as well.  I know, right?
If the people who threw that at me are reading this, i'll give you some friendly advice.  Don't do that.  It'll probably come back to you in a bad way.

Anyway, when I said I was mildly excited, That was another lie.  It was a good blog post title. I'm actually very excited.  Remember how I said the starlight foundation was trying to get my book published?  Probably not.  Just a reminder in case you don't remember: They are doing that.  Well, they approached a buttload of publishers (Buttload, so poetic) about the book.  One of them was the extremely popular publishers penguin.  They didn't want to publish my book, but they did offer me a tour of their offices.  And, it's next week.  By the way, they scheduled that months ago.  It's not that short notice.
So yeah, super pumped for that.

Also, I though i'd give you an update on how the search for a publisher has going.

Have you seen that picture on facebook, where it says need experience to get a job, need a job to get experience?  That sums up publishing a first book.  So starlight suggested to go down the self-publishing route.  For those of you who don't understand just how literal self-publishing is, it's where one would print their book their selves and promote it themselves.  We're really thinking of doing this because it's a great way to get your name out there in the authoring world.

That's all for now.

Stay frosty,

-Joe

150 Pageviews!

Welcome! (again) I'm still trying to find a sign on phrase.  I'm starting to think welcome (again) is actually pretty good.  It's no "How's it going bros" Though.

I've hit 150 pageviews!  yaaaaayyy!  It's been such a long... three day journey.  Like I promised, I'll post some writing on here for everyone to read.  This time, i'll give you the first few pages of a new short story "event" That I'm working on.  Sophisticated, am I right?  The idea is it's four short stories that carry on from each other, and when you put them together, it makes a very, very short book.  It's called Red zone.  Fun fact: I originally named it dead zone, but I have been informed that Dead zone is a Stephen King novel.  That guy is always stealing my ideas....

The story is set on another world, and about a teenage boy called Milo, who grows up generations after a cataclysmic event that threw civilization back centuries.  He's left his "Hometown" (hinting at something with the quotes there) to go on a pilgrimage across the country, but to get where he needs to go, he must pass through the "Red zone," which isn't exactly a holiday resort.  What was once a giant metropolis, is now a place full of warring factions, ash storms and collapsing buildings.  Have fun!

Just a footnote:  When I said "Goes on a pilgrimage" earlier, it may sound like it's a massive plot hole I can't be bothered to patch, but the idea is you find out where he's going later on.  Anyway, enjoy!


RED ZONE: DO NOT ENTER…  Reads the sign standing on the side of the road.  I stare at it, squinting through the ash flying through the air.  It’s a rusty old sign.  The message on it has been painted over some directions that the sign had originally been used for, by the looks of it.  It’s scrawled in red paint.  One of the only memories I have of my dad, my real dad, was a piece of wisdom he gave me.  If something is written in red paint, listen to it.  But I can’t this time.  If I ever want to see him again, I can’t.  I take my rusty old hunting rifle from the bonnet of the car that I had put it on and continue down the highway, as I have for an hour or two now.  It’s raised up on a bridge and it leads right into the city.  Below me is just wasteland.  I tried walking down there, and I almost sunk in the ash.  Of course, there’s still ash up here on the highway, but not as much.  The road is littered with abandoned cars that are rusted down to the core.  Dust covers all of them like a blanket.  I weave in and out of them quickly, expertly jumping over debris and navigating parts of the bridge which have fallen down.  I walk for another half an hour or so, trying not to think about the dangers that lie ahead, but also not being able to stop thinking about it.  In the ten years I lived in Lawson, I heard stories about the dead zone.  I heard stories of monsters that lurked in the sewers and came out at night for food.  I heard rumours of savages who lived inside, of people who ripped each other to shreds with their bare hands.  Of course, I dismissed all of them, but now, it seems pretty hard to do that.  There’s something about this place.  It’s quiet, like everywhere in the world, but for some reason, it seems like it shouldn’t be quiet.  I tell myself it’s just nerves and carry on.

About an hour later I spot a truck down the road.  More of a large van than truck.  It sits sideways in the road, two other cars jammed into its side, denting the metal.  I decide that it might be a good idea to take a look on the top of it, see where I am.  At the moment I can only see a few meters in front of me.  There’s an ash storm raging.  I climb up onto the bonnet and place my hands on the roof of the cabin, lifting myself up right onto the roof.  I thought that maybe from up here I could see further, But it’s not much different.  The ash flies much quicker from up here though.  I pull the cloth wrapped around my neck further up my face so that I don’t inhale any.  The soft, dust like particles blow into my eyes though.  I don’t have any sunglasses, so I have to wipe my stinging eyes every few seconds.  I stand up there for a few minutes, trying to see what’s up ahead, how long I have to go.  I want to find shelter by night.  Then, in the background, I begin to hear something.  Like a mechanical purring.  Then in gets louder, beginning to form a roaring sound.  Then, I hear crashing and metallic scraping.  Panic begins to rise inside me.  I grab the strap of my hunting rifle and pull it so the gun swings from my bag, resting on my chunky pack, to my front, where I grab it and hold it tightly.  My mind goes through all the different myths I heard.  Maybe it was one of the automated metal flying machines that I heard about at the marketplace a year or so ago.  I suddenly catch myself thinking about all the stories and almost pass out from the fear.  It’s getting closer.  I see lights appear on the road.  I have to move.  I run across the top of the truck and fall to my butt as I near the edge, sliding right off the edge.  I’m about to roll as I fall to the ground but my muscles won’t work with me, and I land flat on my face.  I know I don’t have any time to inspect how hurt I got from the fall.  I’m on the very left side of the highway, a few meters away from the barrier that separates me from the wasteland.  For a second I think about jumping over, but instead I pull myself behind a car.  I try to stay strong as I hide in cover, trying to fight the “Why did I do this” thoughts.
  At first, I don’t dare to look up, thinking that whatever this hulking thing is, is going to see me and I’ll be dead before I can run.  But I have to know what it is.  Riddled with fear, I raise my shaky head and look through the glass-less windows of the car out to the road.  And there, pushing a car in front of it, it comes into view.

It’s a truck.  Not like the one I was just standing on.  A hulking, giant truck.  It’s about 20 meters long, the metal it’s made of rusted.  Flags with symbols scrawled across them in red paint hang from the side windows.  The carriage the truck is pulling behind it is painted in some places with black and red paint.  Attached to the front is an ash plough that goes all the way up to the windows of the cabin.  Stuck on the front of it is a wreck of a car, making a horrible scraping noise as it gets pushed along the highway with the slow moving truck.  Then I spot something I can’t believe I didn’t see in the first place.  There are people sitting on the top of the truck, legs dangling over the edge.  They’re all armed with rifles, machine guns, pistols and machetes.  They start shouting to what I think is each other, until I see there are more of them on the ground.  Just feet away from me.  Patrolling the highway.  I suddenly feel unsafe in my hiding space, but don’t dare to move.  I keep watching to see what’s going to happen as they get nearer to the van blocking the way.  The truck keeps plodding along the highway at about five miles an hour, smashing anything in its path until it gets close to the truck.  Then there’s a sinister hissing followed by a gut-wrenching screech and the truck rolls to a stop.  The engine randomly cuts out and the men begin to climb down, shouting as they do.  I listen carefully to what they’re saying.
“I don’t care how, just find a way through!” The man driving the truck shouts to his friends.  I see there are five from the truck and four more on the road.
“We could use the explosives, but that could mess up the whole bridge.”
“Boss, can’t you just push it out of the way.”  Calls out a voice dangerously close.  I realize he’s right on the other side of the car I’m behind.  I reflexively duck down, but still listen to what they’re saying. 
“I don’t think that’s gonna work, bro.  There’s a whole pile up on the other side of this truck.” One more, distant voice replies.  My heart sinks in dread when I hear they’ll be stuck next to me.  I have no idea how to evade them without them seeing me.  I think for a second that I could always just reveal myself from hiding and hope they won’t attack me, but my hopes of doing that are dashed when the man in the cabin shouts, “If you find anyone, you know the drill.  Leave ‘em, or shoot ‘em!”
I try to fight the idea that this is it.  That my journey’s over before it’s even started.  I just sit behind the car.  Listening to see what’s going to happen next.  In my head, I’m trying to plan what I’m going to do, thinking so hard, going over all the scenarios.  I’m thinking so hard that I hardly notice when one of the men comes over to where I’m hiding.  I see him just in time. He’s just about to round the corner of the car and see me, but I react quickly.  I fall to the floor and roll under the car, ripping my long overcoat on shards of glass on the tarmac as I do.  I silently watch the man’s feet as he walks past the car from under it, fear constricting my muscles and my breath.  I wait a good minute or so before I even dare to breathe again.  My hands are pressed up against the bottom of the car.  There’s so little space under here my nose touches it.  I compose myself and come up with a plan.  I’m going to get back out and find out just how many of them there are.  With any luck, they’re moving the truck and they’ll be out of the way.  I begin to shimmy out from under the car, making sure I don’t even make the slightest noise.  I reach the edge and peek my head out, praying the men are gone.  It’s clear down the side of the road.  I roll out and pull my pack with me.  Now I’m sitting on the side of the road, head down and rifle clutched in my hands.
I can hear sounds coming from behind me, and I see that all the men except the driver of the truck are behind the van, trying to move the piled-up cars next to it.  I begin to survey the road ahead of me, noticing the ash storm has died down a bit.  This allows me to see a site which puts a shred of hope back inside me.  About 100 meters ahead, I spot the outlines of buildings which hulk over the highway, all lined up against a road cutting through the one I’m on.  It’s the outskirts of the city.  I’m trying to remember the map I bought from the market in Lawson, fearing that if I try and retrieve it from my pack, I’ll make noise and be seen.  I know that a few miles from here, the actual city starts.  I summon courage from the sight.  I know that I can make it out alive.  If I make a run for it down the highway and find a way down, I might be able to outrun these guys.  I take a minute to plan my route through the cars, knowing I just have to get out of the driver man’s range of hearing and I’m clear.  Then, I take a deep breath, spring into a crouch, and swing my rifle onto my back.  I stay in that position for a few seconds, thinking I’m going to go but not actually moving my muscles.  Then, at a complete random time, I put my hands in front of me and forward roll from the car, landing behind the next one.  I check that driver hasn’t seen me, my body pumping with adrenaline, and break into a silent run, going up the highway.  I vault over the bonnet of the next car and spin away from the one after that, that’s parked sideways on the road.  I reach a point on the road where the bridge it’s supported by has split into two.  It looks like the part I’m on disconnected from the next part, as the road is a meter or so higher than it is on mine.  To get up, I have to scale a concrete ledge that was once attached to my road.  I don’t even plan my jump.  I spin left, swiftly pull myself up onto a car bonnet that’s pressed up against the jump and leap across, swiftly rolling on the hard ground and landing in a crouch.  I scarper over to another car to get cover and then stay there for a few seconds.  Now that I stop I can’t believe what’s happening.  There are men a few seconds away from me who want to kill me.  I’ve never been so vulnerable in my life.  At this second I begin to question what I’m doing.  Why did I ever want to leave Lawson in the first place? I remember hating it there, but now, Thoughts of that huge town just bring feelings of regret.  Regret that I ever left.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost scream when I hear someone call out to me.  A shiver leaps from my feet and jumps through me.  I pull myself together and nervously look around the edge of the car.
I can’t believe my eyes when I see more.
More men.

They look like they’re from the same group of people before.  They’re talking to the driver, who’s coming towards them.  I don’t bother to listen to their words.  I’m panicking so bad I can’t even come up with a plan.  There are even more than before.  There closest one is a mere ten meters away from me.  In about ten seconds he’s coming to run right into me.  My head frantically spins around, looking for a way out.  A pile up of cars 5 meters away. A gap in the barricade a ways down the line.  I’ll never make it there.  I have to keep looking.  Nothing; no way out.  Wait… there’s a power line running along beside the highway.  The poles just about reach above the road.  Except a little bit down the line, the electric wire must have snapped.  It’s dangling down like a rope, and It leads straight onto the road below.  I check to see where the other men are.  I only have a few seconds.  My mind assesses what will happen, but at some point, my body takes over again.  I don’t even think about stealth.  Half crouching, I stumble across the road.  I’m too scared to look behind me, I just go.  And then, just as I think I’m clear, it all goes wrong.  Pain shoots through my ankle and I go tumbling to the floor, my head smashing into a car door as I descend.  The pain in my head is indescribable, and my eyesight can’t line up.  There’s two duplicates of everything, and there’s no way to know which one is real.
I’m screwed now.  I think to myself.  Tears well up in my eyes.  It was too quick.  I thought I could at least make it into the city first-
“Hey, there’s someone here!” A slurred voice announces.  Three looming figures appear in front of me, one of them real.  He has a gun in his hands.  And when I see that, I conjure up some sort of defiance inside of me.  I have to try and do something.
I think of the rifle and shiver.  But I know I have to.  I have to do it.  My trembling hands go behind my back.  My eyesight’s regaining now.  I see three people standing over me.  Two have their rifles aimed at me.  The others have their weapons holstered.  I can’t believe they haven’t shot me yet-
  I clasp the rifle on my back.   I can’t believe what I’m doing.  I don’t know how I’m going to escape even if I do use it.  One shot loaded.  Four men in front of me.  But my hands still pull begin to pull the rifle in front of me.  I do it slowly, so they don’t see what I’m doing, but then, as I reveal what’s on my back, it happens so fast.
One shouts in alarm.  I’m already pulling the bolt back.  The men holding their rifle bring their fingers to their trigger, but they don’t shoot.  It’s like they can’t.  I’m simultaneously standing and aiming the gun.  At my hip, I line it up with the rifle man on the left.  Bring my finger down to the trigger, hold it there for a second as the gun shakes violently in my hand, and then-
BANG.
What have I done?  Utter horror consumes me as the man looks down to his stomach, where blood is spraying everywhere, and collapse to the ground.  His eyes so empty.  The others begin to kick into action, and before I know it, I scramble over the bonnet of the car and sprint to the wire.  Behind me, A hundred tiny explosions erupt.  Bullets smash into rusted metal around me. 
What the hell have I done what have I done what have I done-
I blindly dodge the tiny metal cylinders that come screaming towards me and just run as fast as I can.  I don’t know how I’m ever going to outrun those men.  There’s an entire army of them.  I reach the end of the highway and jump up onto the thick barrier.  I don’t even have time to plan my jump.  I close my eyes, crouch, and propel myself off the side.  But as I jump panic causes me to seize up.  My feet slip.  I falter.  And then I fall.  It’s a jump that barely lasts a second, and I don’t know how it even occurs to me in that second to stick my hands out in front of me.  I feel something.  The line.  I force my hands to tighten and my whole body goes from falling head first to clinging to the wire.  I involuntarily zip down it and land at an extremely high speed onto the ash.




The short stories will be going on the website wattpad, where people can upload their writing and others can see it.  I hope you enjoyed these first few pages.  I'll bring you updates on how i'm doing with the story and tell you when It comes onto wattpad.

For now, Stay frosty.

-Joe


(Good news, I have a sign off phrase!)

ATS and stuff

Having a blog is sort of like an autobiography.  I recently read Michael Mclyntyre's autobiography, and then afterwards found myself thinking about writing things that happen to me in a future autobiography as they happened.  After about a week of this, I was confident that sometime in the future, I could write one, but then I realized that all these thoughts that I would fill the book with are completely random, unconnected things about probiotic yoghurt and architecture. (The two most random things I thought of while I was doing this post)  I had no way of linking all these things together, so i guess the blog is easier.

Welcome! (Again)

There's gonna be one of those (^) At the start of every post.  Just a random thought.

Now, If I may drill down to the bedrock of this post.

I'd like to thank everyone, firstly and... foremostly... That has viewed my blog and shared it on facebook.  In a night I've had 93 pageviews.  Keep sharing!
Also, I said I was going to post some of my writing on here, and I intend to keep my promise.  At 150 pageviews, I'll put something On here!

Anyway, down to a serious matter. (If this was a TV broadcast the lights would dim and it would go to a close up of my face right about now) I wanted to share with some of you information about my condition, Arterial tortuosity syndrome, or ATS, if you like abbreviations.  It's a very rare condition and I would like to clarify what it is, how it works and the other conditions attached to it.

Arterial tortuosity syndrome is a rare congenital connective tissue condition disorder characterized by elongation and generalized tortuosity of the major arteries including the aorta. It is associated with hyperextensible skin and hypermobility ofjoints-

Jokes, I'm not gonna make you read a wikipedia entry.  Like it says above, arterial tortuosity syndrome is a VERY rare heart condition.  There are about 50 people in the world with it.  It basically means the arteries are tortuous, or kinked.   This doesn't cause many problems (lie), at least for me it doesn't.  In America, there are quite a lot of other children with ATS. Most of them have an extreme case of ATS, or, I suppose, you could say I have a mild one.  Most of them have all had operations on their hearts to make their arteries wide enough to pump blood.  I could further show the tragedy of this situation by stating almost all of these people who have had operations are below 10 years of age.

Now you're probably thinking mine must be nothing compared to all this, but it's still very bad.  This is very complicated to explain, but another condition usually attached to ATS is hypermobility, or "Double jointedness." And another condition attached to THAT is chronic fatigue.  Now, if you have ATS, you might not have hypermobility, and If you have hypermobility, you might not have chronic fatigue.  Not for me.  I wound up with all three.  I want to explain all of these individually, so I'll split this into three groups and tell you about each one.

Arterial tortuosity syndrome (ATS)
One of the worst things, personally, with ATS, is the fact that my body needs all the energy it can to help deal with it, so I end up with a low immune system.  Bottom Line: I catch a virus like a hardcore football fan catches a ball accidentally shot into the stands by a player on the pitch.  This leaves me sitting at home a lot.  Another thing about ATS is because of my arteries, it's too dangerous to play any contact sports, but that's not too much of a drag.  I guess when you grow up without sports you don't really care when you can't play them.  Although the majority of my friends are lovers of sports.  That complicates stuff.

Finally, ATS causes flabby skin and droopy facial features. Now, some of you may be familiar with the common teenager's need to mock anything that looks different to them.  I've been left severely angry (Refraining from using stronger... vocabulary here) when people mock me.  Let me elaborate here.  People have said I had "Bingo wings," or mockingly asked me, "What's wrong with my eyes."  Of course, when they do, I turn round and explain to them angrily that it's the result of a serious condition and that only a sick person would judge someone like that, leaving them to walk away feeling extremely guilty.  Then I realize I only did that in my mind.

Hypermobility syndrome (double jointed)
Not as amazingly rare as ATS, in fact, it's extremely common.  This makes my joints, In layman's terms, all "Wibbly Wobbly."  My joints are prone to "clicking out" a bit as a result.  I can't write much because when I do my thumb painlessly dislocates (Picture that without cringing.  I dare you.) Which means I use a computer quite a bit to write at school.  This also means I can't walk very far either.  My joints won't take it.  Of course, this is one of the worst symptoms of all these conditions.  When i'm out on trips with my friends it's always a concern i'll get tired of walking.  The same thing happens on school trips, and a teaching assistant is always allocated to stay behind with me in case I lag behind the group, and believe me, i do.  I sometimes even have trouble keeping up with a group of friends walking to and from lessons at school.  The good thing is in 2010, I went on a two week intensive physio course.  Basically, I did leg exercises at great ormond street.  It was a really life changing fortnight.  I really strengthened my legs, met a lot of great people who also had hypermobility, and most of all, got an extended summer holiday.  Win!

Chronic fatigue syndrome
The worst of the bunch.  This is tiredness.  The severity of this conditions ranges from getting tired after a long day walking non-stop, to not being able to get out of bed in the morning.  Chronic fatigue is terrible.  At a lot of times, I can't manage a a full day of school.  I have to limit playing out with friends on the weekend to an hour, tops, or I won't be able to get out of bed the next day.  If I go to a shopping center for a day I'll be so tired when I get home I won't be able to think straight.  I cannot stress how bad chronic fatigue is.  Last year, my attendance at school was 40%.  I know, right?
I always have trouble convincing people I'm not just lazy.  usually when people ask about it, I just give them a half-baked answer and decide to tell them later.  Sorry about that.
After I get viruses, I tend to get very tired.  Recently, for example, I got ill for a week, but it's taken me more than two weeks to get back into school for two hours.  usually, I get Wednesdays, the middle of the week off, to rest and ensure I can go in for the rest of the week.  On the first two days of the week, I go in at ten.  and after all of this, it's still a rare occasion that i'll make it in for the four days I'm supposed to go in.


So that completes the complicated trilogy of conditions.  bad, huh?  I have to admit, though, although I really don't like all this, If someone offered me the chance to just be normal, with no complications or conditions, I wouldn't accept that offer.  It's made me who I am, and I know without them, I'd be a completely different person.

That was dramatic.  Let's lighten the mood with... KITTENS!

Aw, the little thing can fit in the glass!


Anyway, Thanks for reading.  May the forks be with you.  Isn't that the line?

-Joe