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Born right on the edge of the Lake District. Fifty metres (yards) further West I would have been in the Irish sea. Spent thirty years there, the first fifteen or so studying hard to get a job in a factory. Got the job in the factory and at the weekends knocked about around the Lake District, which is why you should read my books about them ... don't read the boring ones.
Then I left the area and ended up in Coventry. I had heard that the streets were paved with gold. They were! But, it was a type of gold I'd never seen i.e. it wasn't yellow or shiny and had the texture and looks of dirty concrete. Nevertheless, I decided to sit down and write things. The one book I didn't write was 'How to lose weight by not eating'. It went like this, 'write a best seller and then eat'. Simple formula. I died of starvation and then came back as a zombie, so I wrote a zombie story. Over the years I've wondered why I'm still plump and not a skeleton. I've also wondered why all the crap things that happen to you make better stories than nice things. There again, the crap files are towering above the nice file. If we were talking A4 paper I'd say the four foot pile of crap things tower over the one sheet of the nice thing. You just have to keep going and hope that the great muse of storytelling one day gives birth to you. Does all of that sound insane? That's ok then because I think I am ...
NO I didn't have time to spell check this, so forgive me ... I'll do it later, I promise.