Jonathan Hill - Author
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New writing, personal update and some Christmas freebies!

18/12/2023

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As we near the end of 2023, I thought it would be good to update you all after what has been a period of big change for me.

This year, I made the decision to leave my job of managing a community pharmacy. After reflection, I decided that, although the sixteen years I spent there had been such a massive part of my life and one that never stopped being rewarding despite the stresses, it was time for me to move on. There is much I miss about the job, mainly the people. And the outpouring of thanks and heartfelt goodbyes from the many patients I helped over the years genuinely moved me and made me realise how much I love working in healthcare. As for where I go next, 2024 will hold the answer. With a clinical diploma and independent prescribing qualification under my belt, the opportunities available are certainly exciting.

Being technically unemployed for the first time in my life has felt odd and at times scary but I now view this time off as a sabbatical, during which I have managed to achieve so much I could never have done while in work. As a keen runner, I was able to train most days, and in October I ran the Manchester Half Marathon in 2 hours 2 minutes 20 seconds. The final few kilometres were brutal but the brilliant crowds really drive you on. (Not literally, that would be cheating.) I started off running with Couch to 5K several years ago and I never imagined I could achieve this. The feeling afterwards is incredible. Next year, I'm 'fortunate' enough to have a place in the London Marathon. I look forward to that with a mixture of excitement and terror, lots of terror.
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Showing off my Manchester Half medal
In addition to exercise, I've been able to devote much more time to my artistic side, and I entered a painting into the Manchester Open 2024 event, a biennial art exhibition. Unfortunately I didn't get through, but it gives me great pleasure to present the painting to my sister and her partner. (Well, it is of them!) And some of you may know I crochet. I've done lots of crochet!
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My entry into the Manchester Open 2024 (acrylic on canvas)
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One for Heartstopper fans - portrait of Kit Connor (acrylic on canvas)
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Crocheted blanket to commemorate the King's coronation
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Crocheted raccoon - his name is Pom-Pom!
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Mr Gingerbread Man
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Boo! the ghost
And now for the bit that's really relevant to this blog. November is NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month - and this year I decided to take part for the very first time. For those unfamiliar, the challenge is to write 50,000 words throughout November. I relished the structure this gave to my time off, part of each day set aside to write. Some days were harder than others, especially earlier on in the month. I recall at about the 15,000 word mark, I was ready to quit, but I managed to keep going, and at this point I have to thank my good friend Kath Middleton, who spurred me on daily. Other days, the writing poured out of me, and I'd look up from my computer four hours after starting and be in a daze! By the end of the month, I'd hit over 60,000 words. As of now, the novel stands at 96,000 words, by far the longest work I've produced. (FAG, my next longest work, is around 75,000 words.) 
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Badge for hitting 50,000 words in November
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FAG's 10th anniversary is in 2024
I'm hugely excited to release the novel into the world early next year, and this neatly ties in with FAG's tenth anniversary. I am still hugely proud of that novel and the impact it had on readers, some going as far as to message me to describe the effect it had on them. As I go into editing my new story, I am quietly confident this will be at least as striking and compelling. I look forward to sharing details in the near future, but for now I'd describe it as relationship drama meets thriller.

And now to Christmas! I wish all my friends and readers a happy and healthy festive period. From today (19th Dec) through to 23rd Dec, I've made most of my Christmas reads FREE on Kindle. And if you don't own this e-reader, you can still download the books free of charge onto your device using the Kindle app. The free selection includes my ever popular Maureen festive shorts and a laugh out loud Christmas coming out tale. And if you prefer your stories a little darker (or perhaps a lot darker) try The Anniversary, also free to download. The links to all these are below.

Christmas freebies

Lonely this Christmas - a Maureen comedy short story

Mo Mo Mo! Merry Christmas, Maureen!

A Surprise for Maureen

Maureen Gets Crafty

A Christmas Outing

The Anniversary
​I hope you all have a wonderful time. And see you early next year!

Jonathan
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Manchester Musings

1/7/2018

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Idle on a Saturday night for the first time in ages, I went for a long walk around Manchester city centre. Along the way, I recorded snippets of what I encountered, each a fleeting detail or a tantalising glimpse of a bigger story that you’ll have to make up yourself.

Here are my ambulatory scribblings:

A young Chinese lady sobs uncontrollably outside a hotel, while a young man stands opposite, his hands hovering, unsure whether to commit to holding her.

A seagull, lost, flies down Market Street, window-shopping.

A young couple seated outside an Italian trattoria. They gaze longingly at each other's food, he in an outfit too daring for it to be a first date.

An unseen coin falls noisily to the ground; no one stops.

A fire engine crawls cautiously past a vape shop 'open 'til late'.

A young bearded man sits slumped on a bench, legs blood red from a day of sun, and two white bands peeping out of his shorts.

Ghosts dine free of charge at a now closed coffee shop.

The last of the light catches on rippling waves, the canal an old television set with poor reception.

Canadian geese glide silently by, only one interested in my presence enough to turn its coat hanger neck.

A man in a dress stands mid-pavement; he is wearing a handbag so garish it dares the world to think.

Giant boulders rest before a church, God playing marbles around his flock.
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A theatre in darkness and an echo of the last clap.
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A (nasty) surprise for Jonathan

9/12/2017

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It was supposed to be Maureen's big comeback. Two years since Maureen last graced the pages of your Kindle and she was back last week with a festive short story, free for five days, a) as a little Christmas treat for readers, and b) as a means of generating further sales.

The launch went well, the book shifting nearly 500 copies in the first couple of days. Then the downloads came in more slowly. Much more slowly. Okay, I've peaked and that's it, I thought.

Until I checked the book's product page on Amazon.

My rank had disappeared. I'd been in the top 100 chart for a couple of days, and this exposure is so valuable for generating further downloads. Once you reach the top 100, it can have a snowball effect. But my ranking had gone. Hence, my exposure had gone.

I contacted Amazon, a reply taking me past the end of the promotional period, at which the book increased to 99p and entered the paid charts... god only knew where because the book still had no rank.

The reply from Amazon was as follows:

We detected that purchases or borrows of your book(s) are originating from accounts attempting to manipulate sales rank. As a result, your sales rank will not be visible until we determine this activity has ceased.

While we fully support the efforts of our publishers to promote their books, we take activities that jeopardize the experience of our readers and other authors seriously. Please be aware that you are responsible for ensuring the strategies used to promote your books comply with our Terms and Conditions.  We encourage you to thoroughly review any marketing services employed for promotional purposes.


Now, obviously I can reply to this (and I will) denying any intention of trying to manipulate chart positions and book downloads, but so would someone guilty. And from previous experience, trying to reach a person and not a robot can be difficult. Trying to get a reply that isn't copy and paste even more so.

The bottom line is this. I realise I am largely powerless and at the mercy of Amazon, and if I am innocent (and I am) then I will be treated as guilty, with no chance of appeal before the punishment.

In this case the punishment was being stripped of chart rank. Which basically means, my book didn't show in any chart listings on Amazon and the only way to know about my book would be to search for it manually. The effect has been crippling and, although my book is now showing again, I've completely missed any knock-on paid sales from a successful promotion, as well as missing a large chunk of audience while the book was still free. Further punishment, if I am unlucky enough to be convicted again of something I have no control over, is removal from Amazon altogether.

I am not alone.

This article is excellent and further evidence of authors being under the control of the Amazonian god we cannot contact or reason with. 

Further anecdotal reports from fellow authors have shown my case is not isolated by any means.

Why I have been targeted, I'll probably never know. Either a large volume of downloads has triggered a robot to suspect foul play, or - more sinister - someone has targeted my book with a robot to make out as if I'm encouraging mass downloads unfairly. Either way, I'm snookered and what was a hugely successful book launch has evolved into a sales graph that would look pretty much the same if I'd not released a book at all.

Now, I'm a full-time pharmacist. I don't generate a huge amount of income at all through books and I don't write for money. But there are people who DO rely on Amazon income and this sort of issue could be catastrophic.

I have no answers, other than a refreshed inclination to look elsewhere to showcase my books. Amazon, I'm ever grateful to you for allowing me to self-publish and find a readership, but this is not how I expect to be treated.

I must extend my sincere thanks to those who downloaded the Maureen book and, if you haven't and wish to do so then please follow this link. The reception has been great and I appreciate my loyal readers so much. 

And, for the first time my novella, The Anniversary - a festive jigsaw-like psychological thriller, Maureen this ain't - is free for a short while. (I set up the promotion before the above shenanigans began.) Please take a look and download if it appeals. But I find myself wishing for chart success now with the dread of repercussions beyond my control.

Maybe I should hope that some of you download the book, and not lots...

Till next time.

Jonathan
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The Author on the Train - an update and an extract

13/5/2017

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I think it’s time for another blog post, mainly to explain why on earth I’ve not yet released the book that was ready for release ages ago!

But first, a bit of background. So, back in December, the success of A Christmas Outing surpassed my expectations, flying high in the freebie charts during its launch week. The comedy short, which focused on a teenager's coming out to his dysfunctional family, was well-received and I wasted no time in writing a sequel - titled This Crazy Thing I Call My Life - which I have since edited and passed on to several kind people (who’ve thankfully been positive about it!). The book is basically ready for release. So why the delay?

Well, life got in the way, and um… more writing. On a train to London a few weeks ago, I started typing a scene from a book I’ve had in mind for some time. This has evolved somewhat rapidly and now stands at over 30,000 words. I’m really pleased with it so far and it will be my second novel, the first being FAG.

So what can I say about this novel? The title and cover I’m keeping under wraps for now. (Sorry!) But I can tell you that the opening chapters are set in pre-war Berlin. I’m really enjoying researching and writing it, even if some sections are tough (emotionally). I’m hoping I can draw you, the reader, into this dark and tense world, on the brink of so much horror, much as many of you were drawn into the claustrophobic boarding school life of FAG. If anything, I think this next novel will take you on an even bigger rollercoaster ride!

Okay, so now I need to promise that I’ll release the other book, the comedy sequel (which works marvellously as a standalone story!) soon. So… I promise. I just need to read through it once more and decide how I’m going to launch it. But it will be soon!

And then it’s on with finishing the new novel. I can’t wait to share more details with you soon.

Thanks as always for your support and patience. And in the meantime, below is an exclusive extract from This Crazy Thing I Call My Life.

Jonathan

This Crazy Thing I Call My Life

I remember dancing and falling and laughing and then I remember walking home in boxer shorts and holding a leg torn off a pair of jeans. I remember waking and I remember the queasy thrill of finding his library card in the pocket and knowing that I’d have to see him again to return it.

This is how it began.

Not how it properly began, of course. It began, as things so often do, the night before, but this is how it began in the sober light of day.

I know I’ve just used the word ‘began’ a lot. You know that thing when you suddenly take notice of a word - actually properly take notice of it? And the letters start to sit uncomfortably alongside one another so that you’re not even sure you’ve spelt it right, or that it’s even a word? That’s what it’s like with me now.

Began.

It doesn’t look right. Or is it just me?

I think it looks more like a Bulgarian first name. Or maybe an exotic food that you pretend to like because it’s exotic, but in reality prefer to taste your own vomit, which you may well do after eating the aforementioned exotic food.

My English tutor at secondary school told me always to open a piece of writing with a hook. “If you lose your reader in the opening paragraphs, you lose him for good,” he’d said, his tweed jacket reeking of tobacco. I remember wanting to ask him what had happened to the female readers, and also why the hell he was wearing a tweed jacket at the height of summer. But I wasn’t suicidal.

I’m well aware that the award for Best Hook will never be given to the overuse and resulting re-evaluation of the word ‘began’. I like to think of it as a little two-fingers to my English tutor (RIP), who never gave my essays more than fourteen and a half out of twenty. The half mark, he’d written in his old-fashioned just-about-legible scrawl, was for the uniqueness of my idea that Bill Sykes in Oliver Twist was a closet homosexual. (Which was why - spoiler - he killed Nancy - so he could be with Fagin.) In fairness, my essays
were rubbish, but still…

​Anyway, I sense I’m losing you already, so let’s get back on track. It began - no, started - with finding his library card in the pocket of half a pair of jeans. And so opened a new chapter in this crazy thing I call my life…

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Q&A with Author Kath Middleton

9/4/2017

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What's a book release without a crazy interview?

Precisely.

Firstly, Mrs Middleton, to prove you’re not a robot, please type the words you see below and hit ‘enter’.


LoNg $po0n

LoNg $po0n

Good. You’re not a robot.

No, I'm not a robot. I'm (allegedly) a human with a smashed up enter key. Why did you make me hit it? And why am I so literal?

So, what the hell is this new one about then?

It's about students and legal highs. Those they buy, initially, then make and sell for huge profits. The saying, 'If you sup with the devil, take a long spoon,' means that if you play in murky waters you'll become tainted. Ed (the main character) thinks it's just a way to easy money and no harm done. Once harm begins to be done, he talks himself out of believing he's at fault. It's also about redemption. It's intended to be largely funny but with an underlying message. It has a short title because it's not 'a gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist you will not see coming'. I mean, real life's not like that, is it? I like to write about people you might actually meet.

Sorry about the tone of that question. I must have got out of bed on the wrong side. So… you’re widely known for writing 2.4 novels per week. Are you showing any signs of stopping?

I only seem to write 2.4 a week to people who only write 2.4 per decade. When I'm writing a new story I go at it like a bull at a gate till the first draft is finished. That's my manic phase! Then I leave it, sometimes for months, and go back and re-work it where I think it needs it. My editor will then tell me what areas need further work (thanks, David!) and he often sees things in my writing I didn't know were there. So I don't really write huge lots per year but I have a backlog of unfinished/unedited work which would keep me going for a few years if I never wrote another word. But you can't, can you, once the bug has bitten?

Might I enquire as to what the rest of 2017 holds in store for your fans?

In the autumn I'll be publishing a novella (35k words) which is a Sci-fi/horror combo with satirical overtones, so I'm told. Its title is Beneath the Ink and it's broadly speaking about tattoos and what goes wrong with them. It's NOT Tattoo Fixers, by the way. It's scarier than that...

And now for some random ones. What’s your favourite punctuation mark and why?

The apostrophe. The poor thing suffers from so much abuse. It's shoe-horned into plurals or popped the wrong side of an s when indicating possession. Gives me the creeps what they do to the poor thing. That could be the subject of a horror story all by itself. Did you hear of the man in Bristol who has spent thirteen years adding and obscuring apostrophes on public signs and notices with the aid of his little folding ladders and his sticky-backed plastic. He uses an instrument he calls an ‘apostrophiser’. He's a national treasure! I got told off by my husband for 'defacing' a notice in a museum when I added an apostrophe. I stand by my actions. We need standards!

How many long spoons do you personally own?

One. I bought it for the cover photograph.

How many long spoons do you currently have in your house but they’re not officially yours? e.g. you may have borrowed one from a neighbour and ‘forgotten’ to give it back.

None. I'm not big on long spoons. I like to be closer to my food than they allow. 

What’s your favourite punctuation mark? (Just checking the accuracy of your answers.)

It's the interrobang?! It used to be the apostrophe but that bloke in Bristol's got it in hand. I need worry no more. 

Choose the one story you’ve written and published so far that you’d MOST like to see on the big screen. And who would play the main characters?

Now there you've got me. I very rarely see films. I think Shaun the Sheep was the last and I had to sit in an auditorium full of sticky tots and their raddled carers to watch that one. If I picked one of mine, I'd have no idea who to choose for actors. It might have to be left in the hands of Nick Park and his plasticine mountain. So probably Top Banana - the one with the massive spider. 

Do you get recognised in the street and asked for autographs?

Only in the village where I live. And the last autograph I was asked for was on a cheque to pay my subs for one of the groups I belong to.

Please may I have your autograph, Duchess of Cambridge? 

Ahem. I'm a tad older than she is. And her mother! We just share a name. In fact, we don't even do that these days as she'd now a Windsor.

What? You’re KATH Middleton? Shit.

Err, yes, Sorry about that. I hate it when I disappoint young men! Didn't used to happen. I used to be young, once... And he doesn't even give you tea and biscuits. Call this an interview (Interrobang?!)

And that's it. Go buy the book now (click here). It has an introductory price of 99p, for god's sake.
What more do you want? And visit Kath's website here: www.kathmiddletonbooks.com 
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Pet Peeves of a Writer

11/12/2016

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I've been tagged by friend and fellow author, Bernard Jan, to write a blog post on writer pet peeves. As you're reading this, it means I have accepted the invitation, and am always keen to get a bit more use out of my website.

Before the whinging begins, I should add the disclaimer that not even an infinite number of pet peeves would make me give up writing. The process of writing and publishing, and the resultant reactions of a real-life reader elicit a response more potent than any drug.

So, what pet peeves do I have as a writer? As I sit here in my writing room, the blackness of night having descended at some ridiculous afternoon hour, an IKEA desk lamp illuminating my laptop, writing a blog post about pet peeves, I’d perhaps feel fraudulent quoting lack of time as my biggest peeve. Why, I hear you cry, do you not write your books instead of this, admittedly witty and thought-provoking, blog post?

But lack of time is a real issue, of course. However, that aside, I’ll try to pluck from my mind several other annoyances involved in being a writer. And, it being night, please don’t expect a structured post. It’ll be a mind vomit, but I’m a writer and I can claim that it’s for artistic effect, right?

Okay, you need to write a new character. Why, out of all the names that exist in the world, do you only remember about five first names? You finally choose one. No, can’t have that. That was the name of the hero in your previous six books. (This is why random name generators are useful.) 

So, you’ve banged out your first draft (steady!) and now you have to edit the thing. The first edit feels good as you see things coming together. The second edit is good too. You’re tidying things up, tying up loose ends. You know the story pretty well by now. After all, you wrote it. Any further edits which may well be necessary are nevertheless a form of torture and sometimes you’d rather gouge out your writerly eyes than edit the damn thing. And so what that you noticed your character was wearing two different outfits in the same scene? You know the story inside-out, back-to-front and upside-down. There are times when you feel sick at the thought of looking at your book again. And yet, of course, you do.
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Pet peeve face
Your book is nearly ready to be released. You’re browsing on Amazon and you notice that - shock, horror - someone has just released a book with the same name as your own. Yet when you chose your title months back, it was unique. Now it isn’t unique. Some nasty individual has stolen your title. He or she may be and probably is perfectly pleasant and well-meaning, but your title is no longer unique. He or she is a nasty individual.

You release your book amidst waves of euphoria and nausea. Your first reviews roll in. You can now relax, once your blood pressure has returned to normal after stressing over the reviewer who was shocked your gay novella with specified word count was a not-novel-length book about gays and stuff.

But the biggest pet peeve of them all is when you blog about stuff and have to find an image to break up the text and nothing really is suitable so you just paste a frankly embrassing selfie into your post.

You ask yourself why the hell you put yourself through it all. You’re exhausted, wrung out, mentally finished.  But your subconscious is a nasty individual too. And it’s scratching around for plot pieces and characters and, before you know it, you’re working on your next book and you’re loving it.

Despite all the pet peeves, you’re loving it.

You’re writing because.

Because you’re loving it.

And you need to.

Jonathan Hill's latest book - the hit comedy, A Christmas Outing - is out now.

He kindly nominates authors, Andrew Barrett and Debbie McGowan, both terrific authors who have wowed him with their literature, to write about their pet peeves.
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A Christmas Outing -   a 'Thank you' message

4/12/2016

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Christmas came early for me last week when I released my latest book, A Christmas Outing, a comedy short story. After battling with infuriating technical issues, I was finally in a position to announce publication last Sunday. I made the decision to release the story free for the first five days, mainly as a thank you to you readers for your support over the past year. What followed exceeded all my expectations.

A Christmas Outing went on to hit well over 2000 downloads throughout the five-day period and, at its peak, it was #26 in the overall Amazon UK charts, #1 in short stories, #1 in gay literary fiction and, over in the US, the book hit #1 in the LGBT short reads chart. In both the UK and the US, this was my most successful book launch yet.

'But the book was free,' I hear you cry. 'You won't have made a penny from the 2000+ downloads.' This is true and at the same time not. Of course, I didn't make any money directly from the promotion, but sales of my other gay literary fiction books - FAG, Pride, Not Just a Boy - have been boosted. How long this will last, I cannot say, but it's hugely rewarding to witness, knowing how much hard work has gone into every book publication.

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I have a full-time job at present. My aim in writing is not, and has never been, to make money; it is to share my work with readers, and reaching out to people, entertaining them and making them think is something I cannot put a price on. Of course, I'd love to be able to reach the point where I can rely on book sales financially, but for now I'm more than happy just to have people read my books.

Thanks must go to Book Hippo, a UK-based newsletter that featured my book and undoubtedly boosted downloads, and to all who shared A Christmas Outing on social media. And of course, to everyone who downloaded the book!

Happy Christmas and thanks for reading!

Jonathan x

Download A Christmas Outing now from Amazon.
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Cover and blurb reveal + opening chapter

14/10/2016

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I spent much of 2016 (I know we've not left the year behind yet but it feels close to Christmas, right?) working on an as-yet-unannounced novel. I finished its first draft and got part way through the editing process when I stopped and switched to another project. Why? Because my heart just wasn't in the novel at that time. Writers will know that if you don't feel a story as you write it, it just won't work. At best, you'll get it finished but the reader might detect a lack of passion.

So, with full intentions to return to and release that novel in 2017, I have a couple of further releases up my sleeve for this year, the first of which I am pleased to announce here. Readers of FAG, Pride and Is it Her? will know I'm passionate about writing gay characters. I hesitate to categorise my recent work as 'gay'. It isn't. It's literary and involves gay characters but much of the stories I create could quite easily be translated to other walks of life. My writing is for everyone and I am keen to reinforce the fact that well-written fiction should not be categorised but open to all. That said, I look forward to my gay readers experiencing another of my books and I really hope that others will read this for what it is. A quietly moving coming-of-age story.

Enough waffle from me. Readers, meet my next book... Not Just a Boy.
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Not Just a Boy

There was precious little evidence, and certainly nothing concrete, to confirm that I liked boys. I just knew that I’d fallen for him. And if he’d been a girl or a… or a frog… maybe I would have felt just the same love towards her or it.

When two friends move to a new school, they expect some change but nothing like the events that unfold over several terms. 

A schoolboy crush takes hold and refuses to let go, propelling both boys towards a moment so devastating it will change their lives forever.

A gripping and moving coming-of-age novella from the author of the award-winning novel FAG and the novella Pride.

Opening chapter: Running

I have been running for only a minute, maybe two, and yet their frenzied shouts are oddly distant, as if they originate not only from another part of the wood but from another time entirely. 

Every inch of me is riddled with pain and if I stop to think how bad the pain actually is, it is enough to make me want to tear off my limbs with my own teeth. But the pain in my head - inside my head - is worse and I have only managed to run this distance at all because the agony from that physical exertion comes close to overpowering, even if only temporarily, what’s going on in my mind. 

I chance looking back and see (or think I see) movement in the trees. They are coming after me. But, no, it is just a bird freeing itself of the claustrophobic tangle of trees and flying high into the sky where the world must seem that much purer.

Oh, to be a bird.

I turn back to face the way I’m heading. A steep incline, the top of which is the road. My road out of this hell, but I am all too aware that my hell might only just be beginning.

I take stock while my breath returns. I have lost a shoe. My trousers are caked in mud, my shirt torn and bloodied, my schoolbag abandoned. 

Of course, I cannot see my face, but if I had a mirror, I would not dare look into it. 

I can taste blood.

I can smell blood. And dirt and lavender and sweat. My sweat, his sweat, their sweat…

I am panting more softly now and my lungs feel less likely to explode or implode or whatever they felt on the verge of doing while running. Running, fleeing full speed, twisting my body this way and that and ducking branches so efficiently it was as if my unconscious mind had been anticipating them before I even saw them.

The adrenaline of an escape.

It is now fading and my heart still beats strongly but with a force less likely to punch a hole in my fifteen-year-old chest.

I assess the slope, uncertain whether I have enough energy to make it to its peak. But I have no choice. It is either up here or back there. And while a part of me more than anything wants to be back there, thinks I even deserve to be back there, that part is nevertheless dying by the second. My instinct for survival is painfully intertwined with cowardice and, to my mind, they are now one and the same.

My first attempt is weak. It is as if I’m trying only half-heartedly to mount the tilt of soil and woody debris. I am trying, but… the pain… the agony and the exhaustion and the urge to lie down and sleep and wake and discover that none of this ever took place…

The second attempt is successful and, despite slipping back twice, after which I kick off the remaining shoe to grip the slope better with my toes, I make it before my legs threaten to give up altogether. As I reach the top, new tears start to trickle down my face and then they gather speed, forming rivers that roll over my cheeks to a sea that simply doesn’t exist. Never have I been so relieved and yet so afraid to have reached somewhere… something… someone…

I hear the lady before I see her and the blurred pulsating blue just behind her informs me who she is. I wipe away the tears from one eye and look down at the muddy, bloody mess on my hand. Then it all goes out of focus again as fresh tears fall.

I feel like a small boy - five or six - an adult come to my rescue. I hope she takes pity on me and treats me that way. Like I’m too young to know better.

I don’t want to take responsibility for this. I shouldn’t have to. More tears.

She is saying things that I can’t hear, but I am not frustrated. I am just glad she is there. That is enough. And I don’t mind if I never hear another human voice again. At one point, my ears tune into what she is saying but it is impossibly brief, like when a dial touches on a radio station for a fraction of a second before moving on. It is an upward inflection. She is asking me a question. Or questions.

But still I do not hear. Or is it that I do not want to hear?

She is bending a little and looking into my face, which must be a cakey mess of mud, blood and lipstick. In comparison, her own face is a glowing pink orb of fuzziness, eyes and nose and lips each coming into focus independently of one another and for only a second at a time.

A muffled squawk penetrates my skull and I blink faster to clear my vision for long enough to make out the bird to my right.

She is still talking to me, still asking me questions, but all I can do is wonder whether it’s the same bird as before, come to reject freedom and enter the wood’s confines once more. 

Stupid bird. 

Stupid, stupid bird.

Unless it knows that back there, in the clearing, is a freedom greater than that which lies ahead. In which case I am the stupid one.

“I need to know…” she is saying.

What does she need to know?

I want to know too, whatever it is…

And then I collapse at her feet.

Not Just a Boy
The new novella coming soon...

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Writing Update

17/5/2016

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I thought it time I updated my website as I see that the homepage still advertises The Anniversary as my latest release. Since then, I have released another book (alongside Kath Middleton) - Is it Her? - a duo of novellas, each inspired by the same enigmatic painting. The book has been critically well-received and such great feedback has re-confirmed that writing for readers is a complete and utter joy!
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The Anniversary
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Is it Her?
So, where am I up to now?

A few years ago, writing a novel was something unthinkable for me and now, with a few books under my belt, I have just passed the 50k mark for my current work in progress. I'm so pleased to have written two novels now (the first being FAG). It's not easy to get to this point as the material has to grab you and have potential to be developed and I'm pleased to say that both are true in this case!

It's now time to take a step back and look at everything I've written. I'm fairly confident that most of the first draft is usable but it all needs a thorough editing and polishing. I've actually written the book completely out of order, picking scenes to suit my mood and so the whole novel is a mishmash of chapters which whizz back and forth in time. And no, I don't intend to leave it like this as per The Anniversary!

I recently managed to set up a printer in my writing room - Okay, it's a spare room in which I write - and now the printed manuscript is scattered over the floors of my apartment. It's far easier to organise that way than shift about files on my computer, although the danger of slipping and breaking my leg is now infinitely higher.
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The first draft - hot off the printer
​I'll confess. I did write this blog post a short while back and am now adapting it just before publishing it as much of it was out of date when I came to it just now. (Printer still in box, word count less than it is now, apartment floors not a danger to this author's legs etc...) So apologies if it seems disjointed. It is, in fact, being edited and updated much like my work in progress! So it aptly reflects what I'm doing at the moment... although the book is better, I promise.

Today I edited the first four chapters, adding around 2700 words and titling the chapters as I went. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the chapters will be titled and not numbered. I have to say, for someone whose mind wavers all the time about his writing, I'm pretty darned pleased with it so far and have printed those edited chapters out again, just in case my paranoia of computer failure turns fact and also because I didn't think there was enough paper covering my floors.

So... onward with making this first draft a seamless novel. I can't wait to share it with you!
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Announcing my next book...

27/2/2016

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Hi folks,

It's been a while! Before I get my teeth into my big 2016 writing project, I would like to announce my next book release, an exciting collaboration with my friend and fellow author, Kath Middleton.

​While looking for artwork for my apartment, I stumbled across an artist whose work immediately struck me. Rod Buckingham - check out his work here - is a talented painter of busy Lowry-esque scenes and calmer, more contemplative pictures. His enigmatic painting 'Is it Her?' graces the cover of the book and Kath and I have each written a novella, without collusion, inspired by the scene. Two very different stories now sit side by side!

The cover and blurb, along with quotes from the book, are below. I hope you like them.

​Jonathan
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One painting
Two authors
Two very different stories


Inspired by Rod Buckingham's enigmatic 'Is it Her?', Jonathan Hill and Kath Middleton present two novellas, their own takes on this painting.


Is it Her? - Jonathan Hill

The celebration, as Violet so determinedly put it, is falling away before their eyes. Her attempt at buoying up everyone has resulted only in her being drawn farther into a web so complex that no one thread can ever lead to the entire truth. Violet. Cliff. Tom. Jack. Each holds and withholds. Each knows and doesn’t know. Each chooses what and what not to say. The picture can never be complete for any of them. Never.

Tonight four sit round a table playing cards. Tomorrow two leave to fight. Over an evening already fraught with tension, emotions run deep and life-shattering secrets threaten to escape.

Is it Her? - Kath Middleton

I’m quite ashamed to remember how rarely we spoke about the politics of the day. The dark cloud that loomed over all our futures. We were simply looking the other way.

Frank and Vera fall in love the summer before the war. They vow that when it's all over they'll marry. But war has a way of tearing lives apart.

Coming soon...
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