Stench of Evil

I've just published my novel, Stench of Evil, on Amazon as a Kindle download and a quality paperback. You won't find it in any book shop because I decided to give up on traditional publishers after trying and failing to get any of them to even view my new book. How is it that someone who has previously published 18 books, of which many sold foreign rights, newspaper serial rights and book club rights, found themselves in this position?

In the last few years print publishers has made a fundamental change in how they solicit new books. Unless you're a celebrity, or are already a top-ten best selling author, they will no longer deal with you personally. They will only deal with you through an agent.

I never needed an agent - even if I was approaching a publisher for the first time, after all that's someone else to dip into your advance and pocket their share. But now publishers have decided that's what you have to do - and it is all about saving money. If a publisher is relying on agents to sort the chaff from the wheat, they don't have to employ readers and support staff to handle queries from would-be authors.

The problem is that there are far fewer agents than publishing companies. Most of them are one man or two man (or women) outfits, already with a full list of clients. Becoming a published author has always been an uphill struggle - but it's even harder now. A lot of very talented writers will give up after trying in vain to attract the attentions of an agent. There will be dozens of best sellers out there which will remain as a file on a PC, and will never see the light of day.

Thankfully, for both published writers and newcomers, there is now another way.

It costs virtually nothing to put your paperback on Amazon, and your ebook on Kindle - if you do all the technical stuff yourself. You retain the copyright, and the only niggle is that the paperback can only be purchased from Amazon.com and not Amazon UK. But you can use your credit card to pay in dollars, and it will take longer to ship, but that's all. Some authors who spent years having their work rejected are now selling very well on Amazon.

I could have carried on in my attempts to find an agent, but even if I was successful, they would then have to get a publisher for my novel - and the fact of life is that from start to finish it can take months or more likely years before it is finally published. With Amazon it just takes days.

Read my paranormal thriller; Stench of Evil available only from Amazon:

UK paperback & Kindle ebook: https://goo.gl/VQOVuS

US paperback and Kindle ebook: http://goo.gl/7JYgG

Can be downloaded to Kindle, iPad, iPhone, Blackberry, Android devices, PC, and Mac

28 weeks later...

It's almost 28 weeks since the Rage Virus spread through a large section of the voting public - and along with other colleagues - I lost my seat on Sefton Council.

During my five years as a councillor I've always given 100%, refusing to sit on the wall when difficult decisions had to be made, and championing residents causes when they were the victim of council bureaucracy. I even got some policy changes made which benefited local people. My achievements, and those of my former ward colleagues, are a matter of record. Many residents appreciated the hard work I put in, and contacted me to give their personal thanks.

So what happened on May 5th was that the Rage Virus turned people's heads towards central Government, and they wanted to send the Liberal Democrat coalition partners 'a message'. No cuts!  They did that by voting for the candidates of the party that is responsible (along with the bankers) for the financial mess we're now in.

Well, that makes sense then. But you can't expect logic when people are infected with the Rage Virus. Ask Danny Boyle.

We could let the economy go the way of Greece. They've already made cuts which are ten times higher than those being made by The Coalition - and are on the point of disappearing down a black hole. That's not to mention Italy and Spain.

The infected also wanted to send a message along the lines of: You traitors - why have you gone into government with the anti-Christ!

We could have let the Tories rule on their own. No doubt they would have won a second, autumn, election with a bigger, working majority, as the Millibands were still arguing over which of them was to be leader of the Labour Party. That would have been great. A right wing Tory government let loose on the country again - with no one to moderate them, and no implementation of Liberal Democrat policies like raising the tax threshold to £10,000 for the low paid or the extra £2.5 Billion funding for a million of the most disadvantaged pupils.

That makes sense too.

Their message also included: You reneged on your promise not to raise tuition fees!

That does have my sympathy. It was mismanaged - but Labour (who introduced tuition fees to begin with) have since said they would raise them too - capped at £6000 - a huge increase from their position during the election, when Ed and his buddies said they only needed to be increased by just a few hundred pounds! After studying the small print, the National Union of Students have now said that the changes made by The Coalition are 'relatively progressive'. That's thanks to Clegg and other LibDem ministers.

What was personally interesting for me, was how people reacted when I lost.

Several Labour councillors at the count shook my hand and said that it was not personal (having just shafted me!), and that I would be 'missed'. I received almost 60 emails from disappointed residents, plus letters, cards and phone calls.

While a number of my former LibDem colleagues contacted me to offer condolences - there were several others, who I thought I had a personal resonance with, who to this day (28 weeks later) have made no contact at all.

Perhaps their reaction was a consequence of how some people have a problem in dealing with other people's grief. They don't know what to say - so it is best avoided. Or perhaps they just decided to write me off. I seem to have been deleted from some email lists.

That's politics I suppose. Life's a bitch and then you're deleted.

Spontaneous Human Combustion

I came back from France last Friday on the day that West Galway coroner Dr Ciaran McLoughlin ruled that Michael Faherty who had burned to ash had died by 'spontaneous human combustion'. What makes this doubly remarkable is that this is the first time that a coroner has publicly cited SHC as a cause of death.

Having written a book on the subject with Jenny Randles in the 1990s, reprinted as a paperback in 2007, I was contacted by the Daily Mail who wanted me to work with them on a feature. What followed was the inevitable phone calls, emails, discussions, drafts and re-drafts until the piece was finally published today.

Within the constraints of space I think the article is a good overview. I have no intentions of repeating it here - but there are one or two points I would like to enlarge upon.

As I discovered - even during cremation, bones remained,
which are then ground up in a cremulator (c. Peter Hough)

The 'wick' or 'candle effect' suggests that in a closed airtight room a body can smoulder over 16 hours or more until it is reduced to ash. This was first demonstrated in a QED documentary broadcast in 1989, and has since become the favourite weapon of the sceptics. A hallmark of classic SHC is that even bones are reduced to ash - something that  crematoria cannot achieve. Despite claims to the contrary, bones still remained in the pig used to demonstrate the theory.

We investigated QED and talked to several of the participants. Even the sceptics complained that the programme had been edited to make them appear more sceptical than they really were - and that the experiment  was only partially successful. We were also told that the producers 'had an agenda'. There was a follow-up programme some years later, and taken at face value, it too was persuasive. But I'm afraid QED had blotted it's copybook - and as we didn't investigate this one, it is hard to comment further.

I'm not saying that the candle effect doesn't have its place as a partial explanation in some instances, but it is wrong to claim it is a 'catch all' for so-called SHC deaths. There are too many incidents which didn't occur in a sealed room, where the time frame was minutes rather than hours and where the victim survived to tell the tale. Then there are the cases that go beyond 'mundane' SHC and step into the realms of the paranormal - challenging even an open-minded soul like me.

The cremated remains of Mr Flaherty was found near the fireplace - but it is unclear whether there was a lit fire or not. Coroner Dr McLoughlin would have thought very carefully before coming to his conclusion - indeed he carried out extensive research first. Perhaps different explanations are required for the gamut of mysterious fire deaths that we put under the umbrella of 'spontaneous human combustion'.

Confessions of a canvasser...

We've been doing quite a lot of doorstep canvassing over the last few weeks, and on the whole we've received a very good response. There's almost 6,000 households in Victoria Ward though, so we can't get around to everyone. We have been pleasantly surprised by how many residents do actually read our Focus newsletter - and find it informative too. They also appreciate the hard work we've put in.

However, one thing you learn with canvassing, is that not everyone loves you!

I knocked on one door, and introduced myself to the gentleman standing there, then held out my hand. He looked at it and curled his lip.

"I don't shake hands with politicians," he said, looking me up and down as if I was a piece of dirt.

You don't argue with someone like that, you just turn and walk away. Which is what I did. What I felt like saying was:

"It's okay, I've washed my hands, and I don't have any contagious diseases. If you want to stick labels on me I'm also a husband, father, son, professional writer, walker, cyclist and a caravanner. Perhaps you wouldn't shake hands with any of them either?"

What a nice man - I bet he goes down a hoot at dinner parties.



One way to persuade men to vote
 - we use Focus

I don't mind the people who say they're voting for another candidate, or party. What does wind me up are people who proudly boast: "I don't vote." Or, "I don't bother voting in the local elections - they're not important."

Imagine writing out a cheque, for say, £1,500, without exercising any say or influence on how that money will be spent? That's what the 'no voters' do every year when they pay their council tax. Weird!

The subject of not voting came up on the doorstep with a lady who made the valid point that "women have died to give me the vote." I also reminded her of the people in Third World countries who walk for miles, and queue for days to elect their leaders. Then, I have to admit I got a bit carried away (which I sometimes do), and added:

"It would serve the 'no voters' right if a fascist government were elected, and they were the first to be put up against a wall and shot!"

A bit extreme, but you get my drift?

The day we met Norman Lamb, over a hog-roast...

I must admit that the day we met Norman Lamb, we didn't know who he was. What a difference a few years make.

Iain Brodie Browne in his blog was asking why the LibDem North Norfolk MP wasn't given the Health Minister's job - after Andrew Lansley was ordered by Cameron to 'pause' the Health & Social Care Bill for two months consultation and reflection.

Lamb, an acknowledged expert on the NHS, has publicly opposed the handing over of the NHS budget to GPs. The wounded Tory minister now looks inept and doesn't have the backing of nurses, after their vote of  'no confidence'. That's why the web is alive with twitterings saying that Lamb would make a far better job. Ironic then, that it was Lansley who blocked Lamb from having a ministerial job in his department during the coalition negotiations.

It was the summer of 2005, just a couple of months after the General Election, and we were caravanning in Norfolk. When we're away, we like to attend local community events. We'd spotted a poster outside a care home saying that they were having a fund-raising garden fete on Saturday, and that 'Norman Lamb MP' was opening it.

We thought that was our kind of thing, and indeed it proved to be the case. There were stalls selling all sorts of things from local beer to paintings by Norfolk artists, knitted animals, food and cheeses. Traditional games were evident too; smack the rat, hook a duck, hoopla and there was a coconut shy.

What was different about this traditional English garden fete, which at the same time enhanced it, was that the Asian staff were turned out in their 'Sunday best'. The women wore very colourful saris, and the men were resplendent in sarongs and kurtas. These young people were very caring towards their patients who obviously had psychological and physiological problems.

As soon as we were there, Linda spotted the home made cake stall and headed straight for it. After buying a large chocolate cake, I decided to take it to the car for safe keeping (from Linda). I arrived back just as the manager of the home was introducing Norman Lamb.

Norman was dressed smart but casual, in a jacket and open neck shirt. As he spoke in an easy and entertaining style, we speculated which party he represented. We knew it was historically a Conservative part of the country, but that we had made an impact over recent years. Certainly the MP didn't look like a Tory, and he didn't sound like one either... so if it didn't look like a duck, and didn't quack like one - then perhaps it wasn't one?

After the opening speech, I approached one of the senior staff, and asked her who he was. A smile beamed across her face, and she explained he was their Liberal Democrat MP. She said they were genuinely delighted when he accepted the invitation to open the fete, because, she explained: "This is only a modest event, and we didn't think he would be interested in coming along!"

Vegetarians turn away - Linda checking the hog-roast

Norman spent over one and a half hours talking to people, and having a go at some of the games. We were hovering by the pig roast when he came over and ordered some pork in a bun together with the delicious stuffing and apple sauce. He turned to us, and we introduced ourselves as Liberal Democrats from Crosby near Southport. His eyes lit up.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Well, I said, "we heard you were opening the fete and hopped on the train."

It was at that point I discovered that people standing nearby had been listening in, because they all laughed. After a long chat, he said:

"Give my regards to John Pugh, we were both elected for the first time in 2001, and have become friends."

He was still shaking his head in amazement, that out of all the garden fetes in all the world, we should have turned up there...

There I was, just minding my own business...

It's not every day I get a public dressing down, but at last Wednesday's planning meeting in Bootle Town Hall, that's what happened.

There was a heavy agenda, with several petitions, so the public area was packed. We were dealing with an application for War Games activities at the back of Shorrocks Hill Country Club. The lady who had presented a petition against the application was being questioned by Formby Tory councillor, Barry Griffiths. In true Barry style, his questions seemed more like prompts, designed to encourage the petitioner to make the most of her case.

Cllr Paul Tweed gave me
a public dressing down

My colleague, Cllr Jim Byrne, made loud comments to this effect to Cllr John Dodd on his left. Unfortunately, I was sitting on Jim's right. My nose was in the agenda when the Labour Chair, Cllr Paul Tweed,  reacted to what Jim had said:

"You are wrong, these are questions, and we need to hear the answers. And councillor Hough, don't interrupt the proceedings again - you should know better than that!"

At that point I looked up and said indignantly: "Excuse me Cllr Tweed, I haven't said a word!"

Jim put up his hand like a naughty school boy and said. "It was me!"

The officers, particularly Andy Wallis, the out-going Planning Director, were doing their best not to break out into laughter.

Paul quickly apologised and we moved on.  A few minutes later Peter Cowley, Sefton's Principal Solicitor, appeared at my side with a hastily written apology from Paul. I can only assume that Peter had warned him I might sue for defamation of character if he didn't put it in writing. I looked across at Paul and smiled.

After the meeting, somewhat embarrassed, he repeated the apology. I told him not to worry, we all make mistakes, and was it okay if I printed his apology in Focus?

This time there was loud laughter from several officers.

Do you fancy a Scafell blond?

'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy', wrote hotel caretaker Jack Torrance, before trying to sort out his wife and son with an axe, in Kubrick's film of the Stephen King novel; The Shining.
Not wishing to end up like Torrance (Honey, I'm home!), I thought a few days break from all the electioneering would be spiritually uplifting. And so it was.

Us on a sunny Bowscale Fell

Linda and I (and the cat) dragged the caravan up the M6 to a lovely little site by the River Caldew near Hesket Newmarket in the northern Lakes. There we were joined by Cllr Mike Booth, his wife Clare and their pooch.

Hesket Newmarket was featured on Country File last year when John Craven visited The Old Crown which was Britain's first pub to become a cooperative. Prince Charles called in too a couple of years ago. To save it from closure, over a 100 locals bought shares in the pub - which has it's own micro-brewery. It produces such beers as Doris' 90th Birthday Ale and Scafell Blond. I know which one I prefer!

Mountaineer Chris Bonnington also lives nearby - and we bumped into him last time we visited, up on the fells. I remember it well. We were wearing all our outdoor gear, with heavy rucksacks stuffed with waterproofs, drinks and butties - and he walked past bidding us good day, wearing just a jacket and slacks!

This time the weather was glorious, and we did two cracking walks. On Friday we climbed up Carrock Fell, and refreshed ourselves in the pub on the way back. That evening (knowing a good thing when we see it) we returned for a very reasonably priced meal and more of that ale. Saturday saw us climbing about 2000 feet onto Bowscale Fell. It was a hard slog, but the views were terrific! We finished the day with a barbecue and a glass or two of wine.

The simple pleasures are the best.