Owen Atkinson's Blog: Easily Distracted

Happy almost Easter, y'all!

As I work hard to consume by body weight in chocolate (as Ishtar intended, I'm sure) I've also managed to find time to scratch out a little more of my second book.



The four horsemen of the achonkalypse.

The next in the Blood Bounty series, the working title is Dead On Your Feet. I love the ongoing development of Garrett's character as he changes the lives of everyone he meets, for good or ill.

As promised in the title, here's a quick paragraph I wrote this morning:

Garrett crept through the camp as silently as his ruined body would allow. In addition to the steady dripping of his bleeding gut wound, his bad knee had begun to give up the ghost as well, making his foot drag along the ground with an audible scuff. The bandits, for their part, didn’t seem to mind; none of the dozen arranged around the embers of a campfire stirred as he slipped deeper into their ranks. In light of the recent ambush he couldn’t trust that they were all such truly sound sleepers, so he kept both hands inches from his guns at all times, just in case.

Thanks for reading, and remember to feast!

Of course the End is coming
We ushered it right in
Let it put its feet up
And served it shots of gin.

We knew it was approaching
We paved the way with gold
Yet somehow we thought it would wait
Until our kids were old.

But we aren't ready!
We plead unto its heart
No one ever is, it shrugs
When grand adventures start.

It checks a pocket hourglass
The End says, Well I'm nigh.
Order your affairs and quick,
It's time to say goodbye.

Fun news, friends. My friend Sandra Zambo has started interviewing various interesting folk in her life, and I volunteered to be the first! We had a delightful chat about my book, influences and writing in general.

If you'd like to hear my booming baritone do self-serving ASMR for twenty minutes, click the link below and give her a Like and Subscribe while you're at it.

The link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svzNy...

I thought I'd start this off on a high note and tell you about how my cat Nessie dropped a deuce right in the middle of my writing desk.



The face of no regrets.

Now in her defense, Nessie did go in the litter box as the gods intended. However, she is remarkably fluffy and the one drawback of this trait is that sometimes things stick to her when she (or I) would rather they didn't. Case in point: the poop.

Image redacted.

So Nessie leapt up onto my desk as she is wont to do, unaware or unbothered that she was carrying a stinky stowaway that was about to jump ship. As her paws hit the keyboard level and she readied herself to make the second jump to her designated lounging area, a brown nugget the size of my thumb dislodged from her posterior and planted itself firmly in the dead centre of my work space.

Once I was done laugh-gagging, I cleaned it up and got back to work. On that note, a sudden rainstorm helped me break my writer's block! Yay! I wrote about rain.